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infictionalwonderland · 10 months

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Hey, I hope you’re having a good day! I had an idea, Marvel cast flirting with y/n for x minutes?

. . MARVEL CAST FLIRTING WITH Y/N Y/L/N FOR 10 MINUTES STRAIGHT!

Coming home from an extremely long and stressful day/week was unfortunately something very familiar to you—so familiar that you and your best friend (your not famous best friend who was your pilar through all the chaos fame brought) had created a little routine; she’d send you various videos and links to movies and online books she knew would relax and amuse you.

So, cuddled up in your bed with your pyjamas and your star lights on (a true child at heart, always) you opened up your chats with them and eagerly swiped to see that they’d sent.

‘Marvel Cast Flirting with Y/N Y/L/N For 10 Minutes Straight!’ was the video for tonight.

Immediately you cackled to yourself, hurriedly sending your best friend thanks in the form of ironic emojis and frantic proclamations of undying love, before loading up the (true to prior word) ten minute long video.

Surely this was an exaggeration.

The video began, large letters in a cute font appearing on the dark screen ‘the marvel cast all being in love flirting with y/n for ten minutes’. The quick ‘AS THEY SHOULD’ before the clips started playing made you giggle to yourself.

The first clip was from some years back, you were pretty sure this was a premiere for The Avengers, given how you looked and the quality—you were standing opposite on interview, smile on your face and dressed in a pretty outfit the same colour of your character’s aesthetic.

“How do you feel about your costume?”

Before you could even answer the interviews question, Scarlett intercepted your interview—hair in a short red bob and a smirking grin at her lips as she wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Well I know how we all feel about this ladies costume, it’s a beautiful piece that just makes the women wearing all the more beautiful. If that’s even possible.”

The edit quickly gave Scarlett beating heart eyes for you as she didn’t tear her eyes away from you for a second—making present time you laugh.

With that she kissed your cheek, leaving a red mark of her lipstick and walked away, dramatically winking in your direction.

The second clip was a blooper, from .. Captain America: Civil War, you thought. You were on Sebastian’s shoulders, thighs locked over his head—in character, as your character and his were mid fight.

He stumbled back over a table accidentally and you let out a startled yelp, hands flying to steady yourself in his long hair and one of his landing on your arse cheek to steady you as he steadied himself with the other.

“Is it bad that I’m loving this?”

“SEBA—“

“Cut!”

The third clip was you and Lizzie (Elizabeth Olsen) reacting fan tweets; Lizzie unrolled the piece of paper, her eyes lighting up as she giggled with a little smirk.

“Elizabeth. .” You wearily trailed off, looking at your friend.

“Sorry, sorry. Okay! This tweet says if i could just pretty BEEP please with the juiciest most mouthwatering cherry on top get a not kid friendly scene of Wanda and (Your Character) I could die peacefully, my wish fulfilled. I implore you marvel, listen to your dying fan.”

“That tweet had over fifty thousand likes as well.” A feminine voice added in from behind the camera, laughter in her tone.

You and Lizzie turned to each other at the same time, grinning.

“I mean the fan is dying babe. .”

“Right? We should totally make this happen, like, totally.” She gave you a cheeky once over, eyes appreciating all of you. “Because it was the fans wish, not mine, duh.” Lizzie added.

“Mhm.” You hummed with a smirk.

The fourth clip was a evidently some sort of ‘guess the body part’ game: a photo of what you were pretty sure was your bottom half was the picture currently used for guessing, in the picture you were leaned over in a pair of yoga pants and in your personal opinion, you looked good. Well, your arse looked good (amazing, otherworldly—you humbly added)

Lizzie was the first person to answer, the video showing each persons turn one by one and immediately she said, “that’s my girl. Y/N.” Then giggling she added, “now get my girls booty off the screen, I don’t need you all ogling her. We get enough of that, sometimes causes a strain on us. But we’ve remained strong together.”

Paul Rudd was next and he stared at the picture of you for a few solid seconds, “it’s Y/N.” He sheepishly admitted. He pointed an accusing finger dramatically towards the camera—“I only know this because of all the edits you guys make!”

“You don’t have to watch them.” The interviewer pointed out innocently; Paul pouted, grumbling.

Next was Anthony who instantly answered, “That’s Y/N right here!” He hyped you up, grinning. “Don’t even try and make it creepy, we do glutes together man, it’s why we’re the best asses in the cast. Up top!” Anthony exclaimed, holding his hand up towards the picture as if pretending to high five you or something—the interviewer timidly gave him a high five.

Sebastian was next as you (and everyone) watch his eyes flicker and grin that was more of a smirk spread across his cheeks, “that’s definitely y/n.” He assumed instantly. “Would’ve been able to tell you that blindfolded.”

“But—“

“I’d have just sensed her.” Sebastian giggled.

Chris Evans was next—a grin picked up on his face immediately, eyes trained on the photo of you and he ran a hand over his beard, lightly biting his lip (HEELLLOOO????)

“That’s Y/n.” Chris stated confidently, smirking lightly and the camera caught some of the team in line of sight exchange raised eyebrows.

The fifth clip was of Brie Larson who was being interviewed on some sort of premiere event again—presumably or her (marvellous) movie, Captain Marvel, smiling at the interviewer.

“Out of all of the people on the Marvel Cast, those who you’ve met, do you have a favourite out of them?” The interview questioned.

“I’m not really one for favourites but I would definitely say I’m closest to Y/n! She’s—she’s just so lovely and funny and she’s like a ray of sunshine, honestly. She’s been a great help in the filming process as well, she coached me through everything with so patience—I would’ve strangled me if I was her, but no, she just had that adorable smile on her face. She’s truly an amazing person and a better friend than I thought possible.” Brie answered enthusiastically with a soft smile.

“Awwww! We love to hear that—are any of the rumours about her true?”

Brie blinked, seeming taken aback for a brief moment— “Yes she does smell amazing, she’s always effortlessly beautiful, she’s unfailingly hilarious and yes no one in this world deserves her. But like. . if she’s open to it,” Brie paused, winking at the camera and making a call me sign with her hands and mouthing the words with a flirty grin.

The sixth clip was of you, Tom Holland, RDJ, Paul Bettany, Zoe Saldana and Pom Klementieff on Jimmy Kimmel, tasked with drawing your characters. The clip started just as you turned around the drawing of your character and well, it was actually surprisingly good in your own opinion—the audience immediately erupted into loud and obnoxious cheers.

“As great as that is, love, it still doenst capture the extent of your beauty.” Tom Holland, who was sat to your left, grinned cheekily at you and the audience practically shouted and hooted.

“Would anything ever?” Zoe shot back from your right side, twirling a lock of your hair affectionately and smiling as she leaned against you.

“I sincerely doubt that anything could.” RDJ piped up, giving you an unapologetic grin when you looked over at him with fond exasperation as the crowd was practically inconsolable in their glee and enthusiasm, shouting out your praises. “Give it up for sunshine, people. Our gorgeous ray of sunshine!”

“I—“

“They are quite right, Y/n.” Paul Bettany spoke over Jimmy who was obviously going to try and calm down his crowd.

The seventh clip started playing: it was a clip taken from Jacob Batalon’s story, clearly in a party setting—the video showed you and Zendaya in the centre of the dance floor, everyone around you clearly watching you both as you danced up against each other to the sounds of Yeah! by Usher.

“Mate I think your girls about to be stole.” The voice of Tom’s friend, Harrison, sounded from beside Jacob and presumably Tom himself and to empathise Harrison’s words, Jacob zoomed in on your faces, wide grins of ecstasy, and the way Zendaya was admiring you.

“Right in public as well, the scandal.” Jacob cackled.

The eighth clip was an interview of Chris Evans and McKenna Grace (you adored that little girl to pieces). The two of them were answering the ‘Webs Most Searched Question’s’ together.

“Who was.. Chris Evans, date at the Oscars?”

McKenna immediately ooed, smiling teasingly and Chris laughed from beside her.

“This is getting juicy!”

“Well, it was my mom one year and then my sister last year—“

“He wishes it was Y/n though.” The little girl laughed with a beaming smile on her lips and you, present time, arched a brow.

Chris bashfully chuckled with a smile and you swore you could see a genuine red hue on his cheeks, “I mean—it’s Y/n. Anyone would be happy to go with her.”

“I would be!” McKenna excitedly exclaimed as she grinned so sweetly you were now going to make sure you took this sweet child with you to the Oscar’s, Chris seemed to melt as well, recovering from his brief flustered moment.

The ninth clip was Sebastian and Anthony reading out their thirst tweets in a Buzzfeed interview, the clip started as Sebastian was pulling out a tweet from the large bucket.

He read it to himself and blushed faintly, Anthony’s eyebrows practically reaching his forehead as he tried to lean over and read it but Sebastian jokingly shoved him back.

“Oh for—That scene where (Your Character) chokes baby Bucky out with her thighs, his—his head all up in there; the shit I would give to be her, I would give my soul, my fridge, my moms purse, my dads golf clubs. Please, sir. Put your face between my legs like you did Y/n.”

By the end of the tweet, Sebastian had a deeply awkward and slightly perturbed look on his face and Anthony cackled at his side.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he was more than happy with it being Y/n, wouldn’t change it even for your dads golf clubs.” Anthony laughed.

“That’s. . I’m gonna have to decline that, um, respectfully.” Sebastian spoke in regards to the tweet, ignoring Anthony.

In turn, Anthony ignored Sebastian as well and just dramatically kept winking at the camera.

The tenth clip was Cobie Smulders, who was being interviewed on some sort of carpet event, smile on her face as she spoke to the interviewer before her.

“How does it feel knowing that the lesbian community, myself included, are firmly rooting for your character, Maria and Y/N’s character (Your Character) to end up together?”

Cobie’s smile turned genuinely delighted, “I love it—we love it. Y/n and I actually have made so many PowerPoints and presented them to the Russo brothers, but alas. I do really want to end up with her—oops, sorry, wait. I really want my character to end with hers. . would be the appropriate wording. But I’m all for inappropriate if Y/n wants.”

Cobie jokingly bit her lip at the camera and you, watching the video, could not contain your laughter as the interviewer practically burst out with excitement.

The eleventh clip was a blooper from your filming of the avengers—you were standing next to Chris Hemsworth who had an arm around your waist, holding you to him as in the scene his character, Thor, flies the both of you away. But Chris quickly tugged you in front of him and began tickling you mercilessly, hysterical giggles falling from your lips as the people around you laughed as well.

“Chris, HAVE MERCY!”

“Aw, but I enjoy hearing your laughter. It’s a very pretty sound.” Chris laughed to himself, finally stopping his attack and letting you slump against his, back to his front. “I particularly like this as well.” He smirked down at you.

“CHRI—“

In the twelfth clip, you and Tessa Thompson were reading out thirst tweets together: “The feminine urge to fall asleep cuddled into Y/n’s boobs is too real, pls come here mommy.” You read out, giggling all the while.

“The urge is so strong.” Tess commented, nodding her add as she sneakily glanced at your chest with a innocent smile.

“Come here, baby.” You joked, laughing as you opened your arms for her and she practically leaped into them, resting her head on your chest.

“I’m living the dreams of millions right now and it feels amazing.” Tessa gloated jokingly, pulling away from you with only final squeeze and a little wink the camera caught.

“I concur.” You grinned back.

The thirteenth clip was you and Tom Hiddleston, talking with an interviewer on a carpet event. His arm was around your waist and both of you were wearing smiles greeting the interviewer.

“So, obviously, you both act in marvel movies, but not really close together! If you could, would you want to work more closely and have you characters be more involved?”

“I absolutely would.” Tom immediately replied with an honest, heartwarming smile. “And personally, it’s not even a fact of our characters being intertwined it’s more that working this fantastic woman beside me is a gift I have come to deeply cherish, truly it’s an honour. And I suppose, if our characters were to get involved, so to speak, that I would enjoy that because this is the y/n y/l/n, I’d be a mad man not to want that.” He finished charmingly.

You grinned, taking a bow, and both Tom and the interviewer laughed before that clip cut as well.

The fourteenth clip was at Comic-Con, mostly everyone on the cast had already been called out and taken their seats and then your name was called, the audience erupting into loud cheers.

Sebastian, who was sat next to your assigned seat, hopped and and jogged over to offer you his arm as you grinned and waved at everyone—the crowd screaming louder at his actions.

The screams only increased as Chris Evans and Don Cheadle got up to pull out your chair for you to sit down in—you pretended to swoon into Sebastian before kissing all of their cheeks and taking your seat.

“Where was the treatment for me?” RDJ joked.

“Man, they’re just whipped. But, like, who isn’t for Y/n?” Anthony stage whispered back to him and the crowd literally roared in excitement.

The fifteenth clip was Aaron Taylor-Johnson being interviewed with Lizzie for the Age of Ultron press, most probably.

“So, Aaron, obviously your character—spoilers, sorry—isn’t with us anymore but if you had the chance to explore Pietro more, who would you have wanted to explore a romance with?”

“(Your Character) definitely, Y/N.” Aaron answered with a little sheepish grin at the speed and Lizzie giggled into her palm.

“I’m not making fun, I agree, for myself.” Lizzie commented unprompted.

“Why is that?” The interviewer questioned.

“Why—mate, I think it’s pretty obvious. Y/n is such a stunning person, inside and out, I would have loved to—and obviously her character is extremely sick and I’m certain the relationship between her and Pietro would’ve been the stuff of legends but. . come on, Y/n Y/l/n is my real reason.” Aaron joked.

“Get your own girl, she’s mine.” Lizzie glared.

There were still many minutes left of the video left and that alone astounded you; overcome with cackles, you forwarded the video the your Marvel groupchat—so yall bitches like obsessed with me or sum 🥰🥰🥰

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seven-stars-in-his-palm · 2 months

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analyzing some images (for fun)

so i found this pair of promotion images for good omens season 1 on the good omens reference library server and it’s hooked me so so bad im having feelings about it. we’re analyzing them now. not really for meta purposes just fun to see the parallels and differences :)

everything under the cut !

unique traits

aziraphale:

1) his plank background. its older, its crisp, it smells like wood from the screen. mmmm

2) the pencil shavings at the bottom. he does a lot of writing honestly, so i like this. also adds a messy and cozy vibe he always seems to have in that shop…. i like that blessed shop fr

3) his SUSHI. little soy sauce drops near it too—just the right amount of deliberate mess. our first formal introduction to aziraphale in the present day and beginning the Tomfoolery just happens to have sushi... i watch that scene and i go “yeah, that sums up aziraphale i suppose” very nicely. (they dont have sushi Up There) (im literally never gonna forget that)

4) the ray of light shining on the scene. tiny thing, but a bit of the heaven is peeking through..it also sort of blurs the whole image but i think thats just me.

5) and we’ve saved the best for last: the big whopper. the nice and accurate prophecies of agnes nutter, witch. I LOVE THAT BOOK!!!!!!! i cant remember if that ring stain was there but if it isnt in the show on the actual book i’d assume thats to add that ‘thy cocoa doth grow cold’ thing. ALSO. you know what’s being used as a bookmark in the pages?? a check for the ritz. he bookmarked their one chance for living . with a ritz check . MMMMMM. my GOD. that means so much to me even if i cant convey it in words. he KEEPS THE CHECKS 😭😭😭😭😭😭

crowley:

1) let me get my favorite out of the way. crowley’s glasses have fire in their reflection. we’ll talk about the glasses themselves later but the REFLECTION IN THEM. fucking FIRE, BOOKSHOP fire, PAIN, SRIVING THROUGH THE M-25, HELL, I DONT KNOWIM HAVING FEELINGS!!! i do believe this is a bookshop fire reference though, the flames feel too Familiar. the lengths people will go to to attack others 🤧

2) the leather seat background!!!!!!! probably meant to look similar to the bentley’s seats but i cant recall their texture, exactly. maybe just meant to convey modernness—unsure. still, its there <3

3) the tiny little crisp plant </3 its trying his damned best to stay perfect. it might a specific plant that means something, but i cant tell at thsi angle, so i’ll assume its a mini version of the ficus he keeps in the flat. its so SMALL and sitting in ANOTHER POT i CANT

4) the snake slithering!! black and red (in this image it looks orange lol) bellied scales!!!! slithering there, chilling, being crowley, showing hints. love it

5) QUEEN RECORD!!!!! TRYING TO OVERRIDE IT WITH TCHAIKOVSKY!!!!!! the tape over it does a reminisence to crowley’s handwriting, but in a clean ‘this made made to be a font’ way. not exactly just yet. ive become a fan of tchaikovsky recently. amazing darling wonderful crowley, trying to push the rock up the hill for eternity 😞

6) HIS LITTLE DEMON KEY THING. HOLDING A TINY LITTLE BENTLEY CAR KEY OHHH. thats how he doesnt lose the tiny key despite probably not needing one of those. and he CHOSE that intentionally probably. little wings and red circle….URGHHHHHHH

similarities

mmmmm now here’s the good shit. similarities! i’ll bullet point most of them but ohhhhh. ohhhh these. i’ll go from top to bottom as best i can….

1) one of their shoes, obviously. crowley has them iconic snakeskin shoes while aziraphale has his old loafers like the old loafer he is /pos

2) chateauneuf de pape wine bottle labels! (crowley’s is under his glasses, aziraphale’s is next to his shoe). oh my fucking god theyre MATCHING. the labels are old, battered, of course labeling the drink’s age, but mmmmm its these tiny details that get me going….

3) their respective drinks in their mugs—crowley’s a black mug coffee (or what looks to be coffee) and aziraphale’s angel mug tea (or what looks to be tea). i think about that mug sometimes. where did he get that from?? mystery for the ages….

4) their glasses, of course. crowley’s iconic sunglasses and aziraphale’s reading spectacles. i cant really tell the reflections in this pair, but if its supposed to be fucking fire, im done with this. im giving up forever

5) their own watches! aziraphale’s is visibily older while crowley’s is visibly modern, but they function just the same. also, crowley’s is set to 2:56:59 (presumably PM), which is around the time we see when crowley starts checking his watch at warlock’s birthday party. its almost time for disaster to strike!! 😃

6) and finally….their ties!! they have their own ties!!! or more accurately, neck accessories, but i digress. i mesn i assume its crowley’s neck tie, because the fabric looks… different. either way, crowley’s neck thingie is very whispy and aziraphale has his funky little bowtie i love so much,,,

okay thats it. there’s no canonical implications, any fantheories, none of the sort. just saw a pair of images and my mind went GOD DAMN!!!!!! theyre very important to me. i need to look at more promo material 😔

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable spouses #dont have an analyzing tag so. this is it for now

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astermath · 2 months

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hiya! i’m a really big fan of your stranger things work and I was wondering, if youre comfortable of course, a steve x reader period imagine where reader tried to hide their period from Steve, but he finds out and is super fluffy and sweet about it? thank you!

HAHAH wow i have let this ask stew in my inbox since last year thats CRAZY im so sorry my dear,, i was going through old asks and i rlly like this prompt actually so here u go, i hope u enjoy!!!!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

tags: established relationship, obv mentions of periods / menstruation, reader is referred to as female, steve being dense at first lol, regular sized font below!

wc: 1.4K

notes: while the reader in this fic is female, i am well aware not everyone who has a period is a girl, and not everyone who's a girl has a period!

Steve is one attentive boyfriend.

It’s the early stages of your relationship, the golden era, the honeymoon phase. And while you’re a still a bit nervous about it all, you couldn’t be happier, because he does it all right.

He knows your favourite snacks, what music you like, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry. He’s starting to figure out your ins and outs, and it’s almost crazy how quickly he’s catching on. You have no reason to feel judged by him at any point, he truly is comfort poured into the shape of a person.

So then why are you staring at your phone right now, struggling to dial his number and just tell him why you can’t make it to your date?

It’s not usually this bad, at least it hadn’t been for a while, so why now, of all moments, must you be forsaken to be terrorised by your period?

You bite your lip, laying flat onto your bed, hand over your lower stomach. It's right where the pain is just gnawing at you, just like the guilt is. But you know you’d feel even guiltier if you just stood him up, he doesn’t deserve that. You sit up, a tad slowly to save yourself from another cramp, and swallow your nerves for now.

“I’ll just… Tell him I’m sick. Yeah… Yeah I can do that.” You think to yourself.

The combination of his number had started to feel natural to your fingers now, unlike how anxiously you pressed the buttons the first time, triple checking before finally pressing call. You're triple checking again now, more so because you're not sure you can handle hearing the defeat in his voice when you tell him you can't make it.

The phone barely gets a moment to ring before he picks it up, and his all too familiar sweet voice comes through the device.

"Hey babe, everything okay over there?"

You pause a moment before replying. "How did you know it was me calling?"

"Lover's intuition." He chuckles, and it makes your heart flutter. It's not fair how easy it is for him to do that to you, but you enjoy it nonetheless. "So, what's going on?"

"I, uh..." God, getting the words out is like pulling teeth. But you'd rather die than let him think you just got cold feet about your movie date. "I'm really not feeling too well right now, Steve... I'm-- I'm so sorry, I'm gonna have to cancel for tonight." Your eyes are welling up with tears before he even gets a chance to reply, just imagining his pretty face losing its bright expression when hearing your unfortunate news.

"Oh," damnit, he does sound sad, "that's okay, uhm... Is there anything I can do? What kinda sick is it?"

Shit, he's gonna make you say it, isn't he? You know Steve is a mature guy, he knows about periods, knows how they work, but you've been told to suck it up and get on with it before... A part of you is still disappointed that you just can't.

"U-Uhm... It's more like, a stomach thing, I guess?" It's the best way you can put it for now, hoping it'll put his worries to rest.

"Okay, I see..." You can nearly hear him thinking, the subtle noise of bags being moved and a fridge being opened coming through the phone. "Uh, how aboouuut... I come over to yours, and we just watch a movie at home? I still got a couple of tapes we haven't gotten to, and I can bring some light snacks that won't upset your stomach too much."

The thought of Steve caring for you while you're sick sends a warm feeling through your entire body. God, how does he just keep getting better? But you can't lie to him, right? It's not like you're really sick, unless you count the curse of menstruation as a symptom.

Before you get a chance to explain, he's talking again, and by the ruckus in the background you can only guess he's rushing to grab all his stuff. "I'll be heading out in a bit, I'll stop by the corner store too, stay put for me alright? See ya in a bit!"

You're sure he didn't realize he wasn't letting you talk, but frankly, you probably couldn't even come up with a response on time anyways. Right now, you just have to worry about looking somewhat presentable, and maybe figure out a way to tell him you're not actually sick.

By the time you've brushed your hair and brushed some mascara onto your lashes, you're already hearing the doorbell. You just manage to pull a fresh shirt over your head, before stumbling down the stairs and stopping in front of the door. With a deep, loaded, sigh you open it, to reveal your boyfriend.

Hair messed up, plastic bag in hand, jacket haphazardly thrown on. He clearly rushed to be here, still panting a little, but in your eyes, he's the image of your guardian angel, your saviour in need.

Before either of you know it, you're crying again, your freshly applied mascara now leaving thin black streaks over your cheeks. Your hands go up to cover your face, embarrassed, not even sure why you're sobbing all of a sudden. The feelings just hit you like a freight train, rocking you before you even have a time to rationalize.

Steve's expression falters, the bag he had in hand dropping to the floor in an instant, stepping in closer so he can carefully wrap his arms around you and pull you to his chest. Not too tight, he doesn't want to startle you. He's a bit distraught; he's really only seen you cry at a sad movie scene before, so he's a bit unsure as to what's caught you to be so upset right now.

"I-I'm sorry..." you manage to mutter through your incoherent sobs and sniffs, effectively ruining the front of his shirt in the process.

"Hey, hey..." His big hands go up to your face, gently cupping your wettened cheeks as he looks into your teary eyes. Hell, the image of you is almost enough to make him break too. "What're you sorry for? You can't help it that you're sick, right?"

The reminder of your lie makes you want to break eye contact in shame, but it's hard to force yourself to lose sight of that soft, caring gaze of his.

"I," sniff, "I lied, I'm so sorry Steve, I-- I'm not sick, I just... I have..."

He watches you expectedly, not upset, just curious. You'd surely have your reasons if whatever caused you to cancel is making you this upset.

"I'm... I'm just on my period and it-- it hurts really bad, it's not even usually this bad, and I felt like I was overreacting and I feel so bad and--" Your ramble gets cut short by his chuckle, the same one that nearly caused you to melt over the phone earlier.

"W-Wha... Why are you laughing?" You're not sure if you should be happy or worried, you're already experiencing so much at once, it's hard to pick one emotion to feel.

"Nothing, it's just, well," he picks up the bag he dropped, opening it slightly to show the bars of chocolate, candy and your favorite chips inside. "I had a feeling."

The sight of it makes you snap out of your state of distress, and you can’t help but crack a smile through your tears. “Seriously? How?”

He shrugs, a sheepish smile adorning his face. “I told you, lover’s intuition.” He pulls you back to him and kisses your head. “There’s another bag in the car with chicken soup in case I was wrong.”

You both laugh, just hugging on your doorstep for a moment. You have to let it sink in, that maybe Steve just is that sweet and considerate of a guy.

“D’you wanna go inside, or does standing outside help with cramps?” He pulls back a little, and you fight the urge to poke him in the ribs for his sarcasm. You love it either way.

“Yeah, let’s go inside. We can watch When Harry Met Sally and I can cry my eyes out again. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

#tysm for the ask!#stevemath #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington writing #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington comfort #serpentwithatardis #aster replies

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mysterystarz · 2 months

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kiss me maybe:

summary: finding a flier for the volleyball's kissing booth was surprising for two reasons. a) kuroo had created one of the worst fliers known to mankind and b) oikawa tooru, the school's resident pretty boy was capitalizing off the rumors surrounding him. still, you couldn't deny your attraction to the setter, and he couldn't hide that you were the only one he wanted to kiss

pairing: oikawa tooru x g!n reader

word count: 12.6k (please give this a chance)

genres + themes: college!au, sort of friends to lovers(?), fluff, angst, kuroo being an occasional menace, iwaizumi being the sexiest friend you can have, kiyoko being an icon, romanticized college experience, oikawa being an idiot but yours

warnings: cursing, a tad suggestive in some parts, absolutely not proofread

a/n: hi there i am back with a long fic. anyways this thing is my lovechild and probs the most fanfic thing ive written. its really just a fluff monster (lol) and i hope you give this a chance <3 also dedicated to @chimielie because her stuff gave me the inspo to write ily lia thank you for being so talented

It was said that Oikawa Tooru’s kisses were mythical.

Some claimed that one press of lips from the kingly setter was like a hit of a drug, sudden in a way that sent you reeling.

To some, his kisses tasted like the finest candy, hand served on an ornate dish.

Most magically, it was claimed that a kiss from Oikawa Tooru could heal even the most broken of hearts. Just one thread through sun bronzed hair could make you forget about the most painful memories.

And of course, like any celebrity would, he knew about each and every rumor.

Naturally, you reckoned you were bound to see the dreaded flier sooner or later. It sat there still, taped onto the tiny bulletin board outside of the Organic Chemistry I room. It was the worst godawful flier you’d ever seen in your life. In front of you was a myriad of colorful borders, and even more whimsical fonts atop of a cardstock page. It seemed to call out to you with its boldness, as if to say “kiss me” with its scrawling typography.

Mystic Kissbooth, it read in an infuriatingly ornate font. Come and kiss your woes away (and kiss ours away too – a mutually beneficial fundraiser!)

“I see you’ve seen our handiwork,” chuckled a voice. You didn’t have to turn around to recognize Kuroo, who simply leaned against the bulletin board in an attempt to catch your expression.

Not that he would. You weren’t going to give him that luxury.

“No wonder it’s such shit,” you laughed, gesturing to the list of names at the bottom, “I’m honestly ashamed to even know you.”

“Hey,” he frowned playfully, ruffling your hair as he began his signature large strides. Curse him and his stupidly long legs. “That was heavily inspired by your Canva templates…..you know….the bad ones.”

You let out a long and dragged out sigh while you followed your best friend (unfortunately) to one of the secluded benches on campus. Beneath the hustle and bustle of students as they sprinted to class, it was almost peaceful to rest your legs for just a moment.

Relaxing onto the bench, you placed your backpack at your side, creating a wedge between you and Kuroo, who’d taken the seat right next to you. He didn’t seem to mind, simply casting a grin in your direction.

For starters, you weren’t sure how to feel about the Canva invasion. Yes, it was a design platform, and yes, you’d tried (and failed sometimes) to create infographics whenever Kuroo needed a helping hand. It was just a tad surprising to discover that Kuroo had drawn his inspiration from your least successful works.

“What’s this whole thing about?” You decided on asking after a lengthy pause. Kuroo cast his gaze to meet your own, his grin almost glued into place.

“Well, not that we’re in any trouble, but the volleyball club could use some funds. We’ve been trying to set up some pretty competitive matches and practice games, but we need the fuel to do it. Oikawa thought this was a great way to make use of all the attention we have.”

“No wonder. He’s probably the most popular one on the team….though Iwaizumi is honestly the one to be looking at.”

“Rude,” Kuroo huffed, “There’s a lot of other people to be interested in, you know.”

“Hopefully you don’t mean yourself,” you chuckled, dodging a playful hit on the arm from Kuroo. “But in all seriousness, a kissing booth?” Kuroo paused for a moment, seemingly mulling over a proper response, when Iwaizumi entered your frame of vision.

There were times you wondered why Iwaizumi Hajime didn’t consider a career in modeling. From where he stood, the sunlight almost seemed to caress his skin, tanned and sun bronzed from a summer spent playing volleyball on the beach. Upon seeing you and Kuroo on the bench, he extended a quick wave before jogging over, arms flexing as he got closer.

“Stop ogling him,” Kuroo smirked, “You could stand to be a bit less obvious.” “Shut up,” you muttered just as Iwaizumi ended his jog to stand in front of you.

“Nice to see you here,” he beamed, his eyes meeting your own, “I barely see you around these days. Did Kuroo scare you away from the club?” “No not at all,” you smiled, moving your backpack to make space for the handsome spiker. Some of the students on the nearby path stopped to turn at the three of you, and Iwaizumi, none-the-wiser, took a swig from his water bottle.

He was never aware of the effect he had on people. That was exactly what contributed to his charm.

“Y/N wanted to know a bit more about the booth,” Kuroo started. “I think you’d explain it better than I could.”

Iwaizumi raised a brow, “It’s just a club fundraiser. I mean, it's the only decent idea that Oikawa’s had in a while.”

“So he really was involved, huh.” You said (more to yourself than anyone else). The two men looked at you confusedly, before Kuroo finally spoke.

“You know, you always seem to get a bit fidgety whenever someone mentions Oikawa. And you always try to be away from him when you come to our practices…were the two of you involved or something? Because if you were, I am honestly offended you didn’t tell me.”

You aggressively shook your head no, warranting a chuckle from Iwaizumi. “Well, if they were, I think it’s had an impact. You start to see him for who he really is.”

The three of you laughed, choosing to enjoy the fresh breeze.

However, even despite the simple beauty of this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about the booth.

Oikawa stood at the front of the lecture hall, spinning his pen while meeting the eyes of his teammates. At his side was Kuroo’s flier, whimsically colorful in all the ways a magical kissing booth (like this one) was supposed to be. Iwaizumi sat in the front, close enough for Oikawa to catch the teasingly judgy stares of his best friend while he waited for everyone to settle down.

Finding a free lecture hall had been no problem. All he’d had to do is smile nicely at a few eager students, verify with a few professors, and send a frantic “MEET NOW” to the club group chat.

The real problem was convincing the rest of the team of this idea in the first place.

“Hey guys,” he beamed, putting the flier down on the desk closest to him, “Thanks for showing up on such short notice. You guys are the best.”

“We didn’t come for you,” Makki snickered. “We’re just here to see what crazy justification you have for this.” “Well,” he began, “We’ve been in the spotlight for quite some time now. A lot of us have been featured in the campus newspaper, we’ve made it onto our university’s podcast, and have you even seen the instagram fanpages for us? They’re absolutely insane. So, what better time to take advantage of this?”

“And this has nothing to do at all with the rumors?” A voice asked. Oikawa turned to meet the eyes of Semi Eita, who sat on the left corner closest to the door.

The team laughed as Oikawa shook his head in faux denial. “Absolutely not. Why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Because you're smart!” Oikawa was almost surprised to hear the remark from Bokuto, who sat near Kuroo with his own flier. “And it’s a lot of fun.”

The team murmured their respective agreements before the room fell silent again. Oikawa, ever the opportunist, slid into the silence with an explanation.

“I was thinking we set it up as sort of a de-stress day after midterms. We could get the other clubs to join in their own mini fundraisers…like a carnival of sorts. We’ll set up the booth with colorful signs and posters, and we kiss based on the cash. We can take shifts to make sure the two of us aren’t running the whole show. All proceeds are for our matches and practice games. Sounds good?” “A question. Are you going to make people line up to kiss you?” Matsukawa asked casually.

“You mean us Mattsun. And yeah, a line works just fine.” Oikawa stopped for a moment to admire the unanimous cooperation of his team. “I’ll talk to the other club leaders and see if we can come up with a date. If that’s all the questions you’ve got, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow!”

With this, his team filed out the door. He caught Kuroo animatedly discussing a design to attract customers to their booth with Bokuto, mentioning that he had a friend who’d know just what to do about it. In the midst of his rant, he’d mentioned a name.

Yours. A name he hadn’t realized he missed hearing.

A faint smile crept onto his face at the thought.

Kuroo was a menace. From the minute he’d found you at the library, he’d been nagging you the entire day, practically begging for you to come to their practice.

“Y/N please,” he whined, attempting his own version of a pout, “If you see us, you could help design the poster to attract customers.” “I don’t think you need help with that.” That much was true. Especially with Oikawa headlining the event. They were guaranteed strong profits.

Somehow in the midst of all this pleading, you’d ended up right outside the gym. The sounds of volleyballs hitting the wooden floors resonated off the walls, the sound so clear that you could hear it from your spot near the door.

“You planned this,” you glared, watching Kuroo’s smile twist into one of faux innocence. Bastard.

“What can I say? I am the master of distraction.” He opened the door, swapping his shoes out at the front and walking into the gym to the greetings of his team. You followed closely behind him, carefully striding across the polished wood and shutting the door behind you.

The gym had always been grand. Your university’s colors were plastered onto the bleachers, with a wide curtain separating the different sides of the gym. There was space – so much of it – and the team spread out to practice various skills.

For a brief moment, you allowed yourself the childish awe of standing in a space so big.

“I forgot how long it’s been since you’ve been here,” a voice greeted, “But it’s good to see you Y/N.” You knew that voice. You’d know that voice like the moon knew the stars. You’d know it anywhere.

“Oikawa,” you said, turning to acknowledge the brown-haired setter. “Long time no see.”

As much as you didn’t want to, you drank him in. He seemed to be in high spirits this afternoon, hair artfully tousled in the way he always did, and lips so perfectly smooth that they seemed out of a Chapstick ad.

“You don’t really come around anymore,” He said, taking to walking with you around the gym (much to your own surprise). “I was getting a bit worried actually.”

“What do you mean?” You stared at a spot a bit beyond the setter, watching Bokuto’s cross court spike slam into the floor with dizzying speed.

“Well….we talked a bunch. And you came here at the beginning of the year. You suddenly stopped though….so I wondered if something happened.”

“You noticed?” You scoffed. “I’m surprised you paid attention.”

“Why wouldn’t I pay attention?” Oikawa raised a brow in confusion before suddenly, the answer seemed to smack him in the face. “You’re petty about that?”

“You barely paid me any mind,” was all you said, meeting Oikawa’s warm gaze, “It was like we’d never met at all.”

You’d met Oikawa Tooru on the flight to university. You’d waved your family goodbye at the gate, hugging them tight to your chest and memorizing the feel of them against you.

You walked steadily, pulling your suitcase along as you made your way to the security check in.

“Everything goes in a bag! Belts, shoes, phones! Take off your shoes and step aside. Laptops can stay in your bags! Move along!”

You hauled your suitcase into the bin, placed your phone and wallet beside it and sent it over to the TSA associate, taking a minute to place your jacket and shoes into another bin and sending that over too.

The gray bins were plain, old and rackety and classic, comparable to a washed out 1930’s movie. You trodded through the metal detector, feeling the cold floor through your socks.

When you finally made it through check in, you were met with a TSA associate over your bag, looking straight at you as if you’d committed some heinous crime.

“Excuse me,” the TSA officer asked, gesturing to your bags, “Are these your bags?”

“Yes,” you affirmed, almost nervously. “Is there an issue?”

“You seem to have some liquid above the restricted amount. I’m going to have to take a look.”

For a moment, you were startled. What did you even bring? You’d diligently packed your belongings and made sure everything was secure….surely there had to be some mistake.

Your breath wavered the minute the officer pulled out your favorite body wash.

In the midst of your packing, you’d forgotten you’d slipped it into your carry on.

“Oh.” Your voice shook as you meant the TSA officer’s eyes, “I’m sorry. That’s my favorite one.”

“I’m sorry.” For a moment, it almost seemed like the man had sympathy for you, “But I’m going to have to ask you to pour half of it out. If you refuse that, you’re going to have to give it away.”

Every step towards the outside garbage felt like a punch to the chest. While you kept composed on the outside, pouring away half of your prized wash felt miserable.

A dying rose. A dying star. Something dying slowly and surely inside.

Now you’d have to get another one. Brand new packaging lost to your honest mistake.

This sucked ass.

You meandered through the security area again, more ghost than person and collected the rest of your belongings. While your voice wavered, you didn’t shed a tear, and simply walked along.

Somehow, in the midst of all your wandering, you ended up in the departure lounge. In front of you were an array of connected seats with their generic cushioning and the customary TV screens telling you what flight was taking off when.

The glass paneled windows to your right showcased the hangar, and from your spot, you could see planes parked out in front. The sun set down in the distance, leaving a watercolor blend of pinks and oranges in its wake.

You could almost call it picturesque.

You leaned your suitcase against a wall for a moment, scanning the lounge for an available corner. Unfortunately, your plane was packed.

The chatter of students was overwhelming, and without a choice, you settled into a seat at the far corner of the lounge next to a pretty-boy who you were certain wouldn't speak to you.

They normally never did. Why should it be any different now? And honestly, you didn’t want to talk.

“This plane is probably fully booked.” A voice (the perfect blend of warm and deep) said. You turned to meet the eyes of said pretty boy, a surprisingly lovely shade of brown. Light and bright and inviting. Almost like a mocha. Or a latte.

“Tell me about it,” you laughed, slightly amused by the novelty of the situation. It wasn’t common for pretty boys to talk to you. Even less common for you to entertain any conversation, especially when you felt the way you did. “When I waved ‘goodbye’ to my family, I wasn’t expecting this much of a crowd to tell them about.”

“Yeah?” Oikawa smiled, the corners of his mouth lifting upwards invitingly. “I was more surprised at the lack of seats.”

“You’d think they’d anticipate a college student stampede.”

Oikawa laughed, the amusement lighting up his whole face. It was a simple laugh — chiming and lovely in the way that all laughs were, but you were certain you’d do anything to hear that again.

His presence had a way of putting you at ease.

The two of you coincidentally had seats right next to each other on the flight. As the plane lifted off, you snapped a picture of the city lights, twinkling their tiny goodbyes as they faded from view.

The cabin’s lights were dimmed, yet even in the haziness, you could make out the features of the boy next to you.

High cheekbones. A defined cupid’s bow. Lips that seemed even softer than the lather of that soap you loved so much.

You’d mourn your soap later. Even if it was an object, your attachment to it simply showed a care for your belongings.

What could be more human than that?

Oikawa turned to you, gaze friendly as the plane began its mounting ascent.

“You know, the TSA can be real dicks sometimes.”

What the fuck. Who was he? A psychic?

“What did they do to you?”

“They made me pour out half my expensive hair gel. I insisted it fit the requirements but they refused to accommodate me. So mean.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the pout he wore. It seemed even someone as vivacious as Oikawa couldn’t charm himself out of aviation regulations.

Somehow the whole thing made you feel a lot better.

You and Oikawa (Tooru as he later insisted) shared many conversations throughout the flight. Some revolved around human existentialism (with him quoting the “we were infinite” from The Perks of Being a Wallflower). Some revolved around space.

Some even revolved around clubs, with him sharing high school volleyball stories and pledging your university’s team to greatness.

When fatigue finally claimed you, the comfort of his shoulder was unmatched by anything you’d ever felt. He’d extended an invite for you to come and see them practice anytime, and laid his own head atop of yours.

Of course, when you showed up for said practice, so had a bunch of other fans. He’d barely spared you a glance, let alone spoke to you when you’d tried to seek him out.

A grand gym and an even grander boy.

You just avoided him after that.

“Im really sorry about that,” Oikawa said. While his expressions were genuine, you weren’t sure how much you were going to trust it. Certainly, in all the time you’d spent apart, he must have changed at least a bit.

To think he was the exact same boy who you met on the plane would be foolish.

“Yeah, water under the bridge.”

“No, not really.” Oikawa paused to study your expression. Beneath all of your nonchalance was something fragile. Admiration? Loathing? He doubted it. “How long did you plan on avoiding me?”

“As long as I needed to.” You answered matter-of-factly. “Then again, that was when I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

“How could I ever do that?” Oikawa’s expression morphed into a worried one, eyebrows knitted together and mouth downturned as if to say damn that’s an accusation.

“Well-“

“Look I meant to seek you out after that day. I saw you there, wanted to come over, but at that point you’d gone off to continue chatting with Kuroo and met Iwa. And classes exist.”

“Okay. Water under the bridge for real.”

His eyes lit up. “You mean it?”

You nodded in approval, only to be dragged away by Kuroo, who’d suddenly appeared behind you.

“What the fuck?” You yelled, not caring much for your use of profanities. Some of the nearby team members snickered as you were pulled to the corner of the gym, in front of an array of poster boards.

“What?” Kuroo asked, “You and Oikawa seem to be fine now, so I thought I could ask you some questions about stuff that really matters. Namely posters.”

You were met with various shapes and sizes of poster boards. Some were Elmers Tri-Folds. Some were the cheap foam boards you sometimes saw while grocery shopping.

“If you want a design for your freaking booth,” you began, looking at Kuroo, “Give me some time.”

Oikawa was in the podcast studio. The room was secluded, plastered with posters and heart decals of all shapes and colors. Right beside the door was a framed picture of the volleyball team, with their silly faces frozen in motion.

Shimizu Kiyoko walked out from behind the desk, nonchalantly acknowledging Oikawa with a nod. “Oikawa, what can I do for you?”

“Hey,” he winked, unaffected by her lack of reaction, “Have any idea where I can find your host. I’d like her to do me a favor.”

“Advertising.” Kiyoko said bluntly. “I don’t think your booth needs any more attention. Our socials have covered it already.”

“We always love the extra coverage.”

“Doesn’t your friend help with all the designs? I think they’d be the perfect candidate to help with all this.”

“Y/N?” He asked, almost dumbfounded by how obvious that answer was.

“Yes,” Kiyoko smiled. “They’re very nice. I’ve seen you talk a few times, though it honestly seems like they don’t like you very much.”

“Not true.” He huffed.

“Well it makes sense. Especially if the rumors are true.”

People saw Kiyoko’s beauty and shyness and mistook her for a soft and innocent podcast manager.

Anyone who’d dealt with her enough knew she was actually a force to be reckoned with.

“The rumors are whatever you make of them. I’m simply an opportunist.”

Kiyoko chuckled and for a moment, Oikawa felt accomplished. “You don’t need to tell me this. I already know.”

He leaned against the door, and stretched out his arms in front of him before resting them at his sides again. “Would you at least consider telling the main host to help us out?”

Kiyoko shuffled the papers in her hands, before meeting his eyes. “I won’t give any guarantees, but something tells me that if you do set up a de-stress carnival, your club will be the central focus of our broadcast.”

“Thank you!” He beamed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. “I could kiss you for that.”

“No thank you,” Kiyoko declined, “I’m not interested in confirming the rumors.”

As Oikawa left the studio, Kiyoko walked into the recording room, a tiny smile on her lips.

Your Canva page lay woefully blank before you.

You’d promised Kuroo a design if he gave you time and Kuroo, ever the considerate friend, actually stopped bothering you about the poster. He seemed to trust in Oikawa’s judgment, and it seemed that the rest of the volleyball club did too.

As a token of thanks, you’d come to the library, your brain and Pinterest providing you at least a vague idea of what it was you wanted to do. However, when it came time to put pen to paper (or more fittingly, hand to mousepad), it seemed that your ideas had been wiped clean.

Your disappointment felt like a leaky faucet. Despite the minuteness of the feeling, it seemed to pool the more you thought about the situation. While designing was never an obligation, you owed it to your friends.

You sighed, placing your bag onto the hardwood library table and casting your eyes outside. A slowly setting sun was what greeted you, a medley of pinks and oranges appearing onto a slowly disappearing blue sky.

How cliche. Considering one's disappointments next to a sunset.

“Y/N?” A voice called, almost saccharine in the silence of your surroundings.

And there he was. Draped in the setting sun like a painted figure, cloaked in a veil of sunlight that skimmed his skin like silk. Oikawa’s eyes were almost honey colored in that lighting, and beneath the darkened shelves, he was almost a mystical apparition.

“Oikawa,” was all you said, cursing every possible force for him appearing now, looking like that, when you barely had anything to show for it.

“Kuroo told me you’d offered to help us put together some signs for the de-stress carnival.” Oikawa walked over, stepping away from the sunlight and placing his bag down at your table, opting for a seat across from you. “Which, in case you were wondering, I got approval for. A lot of the other clubs are going to be there.”

“That’s good.” You allowed yourself a glance at him. Your pettiness had all but dissipated, but you were still wary of looking at him for too long. He was like the sun, golden and lustrous and magnetic. You weren’t quite ready to be pulled into his orbit.

“So,” Oikawa said, taking a glance at your computer screen, “Rough designing?”

“Yeah. Inspiration has been hard to find and your club is counting on me.”

“If it means anything to you, we wouldn’t have asked for you to do it if we didn’t believe in you.” You looked up to see Oikawa’s gaze set firmly on your own, as if tracking your expressions. Under his stare, you felt raw. Vulnerable. If you were a cake, and he was cutting you open.

You weren’t sure what to say.

A beat of silence permeated the space between you, and the two of you made no effort to stop it. It was somewhat comforting. Unsaid words of yours were understood by him.

“It feels like a lot of pressure,” you finally admitted, letting out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “I want it to be worth your while.”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Oikawa was closer. His breath was soft, fanning over the side of your cheek like a secret.

“I’m not sure.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper.

Oikawa paused for a moment, as if contemplating something before decisively placing his hand on top of yours.

For a moment, you were startled by the warmth of his palm, grounding you in some way that didn’t quite make sense to you yet. Something about this was intimate in all the ways it shouldn’t be. Amidst a darkening sky and a slowly dimming library, you could almost consider this clandestine.

You waited for the rustle of a book’s pages or the resounding footsteps of the librarian to break down the moment, but they never came.

Oikawa looked at you, seemingly memorizing your features. He said nothing, but a slight smile appeared on his face the second he spotted a stray lock of hair by your ear. You could feel your face progressively heating with every moment spent in this proximity.

Damn celebrity setters. Damn stupid stupid beautiful men who do this. Damn that Oikawa Tooru.

Gently, as if touching something fragile, Oikawa smoothed down your hair, brushing the tip of your ear with his fingertips. He held your gaze fondly before suddenly, making an incredulous face.

“What the-“ He said, looking at your hair again. “It’s back up again.” He looked at his hands in horror, as if their magic didn’t work. “Damn it, that’s not how that goes.”

You couldn’t stop the laughter from erupting out of you at his antics, You swiftly flattened that pesky strand and looked back at him, feeling the amusement pool in your chest at his dismayed expression.

“Sorry man,” you laughed, syllables coming out breathless, “Sometimes stuff doesn’t go to plan.”

Oikawa seemed like he wanted to melt into the floor, and feeling the need for some fresh air, you dragged him out of the library. Upon leaving the double doors (and air conditioning), you were met by the lit sidewalk and found the wooden benches by the line of trees.

You sat down, gesturing for him to join you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before,” Oikawa mentioned off-handedly, “I mean I’m here a lot, but I’m not sure when this was put here.”

“It’s been here…?”

Oikawa sighed, tilting his gaze to the now dark sky. “You do have an eye for good things.”

You raised a brow. “What does that even mean?”

“The stuff you make is adorable. And Kuroo’s always said that everywhere he brings us are all places you found.”

“Really?” You leaned your upper body onto the bench. “I didn’t expect credit from him.”

“He cares about you,” Oikawa said. “He gave a lot of shit when he realized that we’d talked on our plane and then not again. But I deserved that.”

“I was petty. But it’s not like I can actually walk up to you.”

“What?” Oikawa seemed puzzled, as if this was something impossible for him to fathom. “Why not? I don’t think I’m that bad.”

“Iwaizumi says otherwise.”

“Mean. But seriously, why?”

You’d forgotten how refreshing Oikawa was. Even though you were sitting on a bench, you felt practically weightless.

“Rumors,” was all you said, gesturing to him.

Understanding seemed to flash into his eyes, and slowly, like connecting pieces of a puzzle, it all fell into place. He paused for a moment before meeting your eyes with a grin.

“You know they’re just rumors right?” He smirked, “I went to a party a while back to kick off club season. There was this one girl who really wasn’t leaving me alone, so I ended up leaving. Turns out she’d told her friends that she and I made out at the party and gave me a whole lot more credit than I was expecting. Not that I mind making out, but I’m picky.”

“Picky how?” You asked, words leaving your mouth before you even had the chance to think them over.

“Picky as in there’s really only one person I’ve even wanted to kiss since I got here but haven’t got the chance to. I’m hoping they come to the booth. Just so I’ll get to know what that’s like.”

You felt a subtle twist of something in your chest, though you weren’t sure what to make of it. Of course he had his eye on somebody. It was bound to happen eventually.

“Why are you making a booth to do mass kissing then?” A valid follow up question. A guy like him could successfully pull whenever he wanted to.

“Because I’m an opportunist,” he sighed, “And I’m not even sure if I can make a move properly. I don’t function like I normally do when they’re around.”

“Of course you can. Anybody would say yes to you, Tooru.”

With this, something in him seemed to snap and he immediately pulled you closer, your faces just an inch apart. His hands were firm around your waist, and the sensation was nearly searing. You could feel everything, from his hands to his breath to even the way his eyes seemed to scan your face.

The way he looked at you now was like worship.

“What are you doing?” You whispered shakily. With him all around you you could barely breathe, let alone think.

“Making a move.” His eyes were on your lips. His hand gently left your waist to skim your arm before placing a hand on your cheek. “May I?”

Your nod was nearly imperceptible before he captured your lips in yours.

Soft, was your first thought as you felt his lips brush yours ever so lightly. You leaned into him, relishing the vaguely sweet taste of strawberry Chapstick on his lips as you swiped your tongue over his lips.

Oikawa Tooru was a mystic. His fingers tangled in your hair and his lips searched for yours as if he was a lost man and you were his savior. He traced the curve of your waist and kissed you passionately, nibbling your lips when you pulled at his shirt.

You could kiss him forever. You moved to nip at the tip of his ear, and his shaky breath had you considering if you should bite down harder. He pulled you back in and you melted into the feel of his lips and hands and the way his touch seemed to awaken something inside you.

The way he held you was reverent.

When you finally split for air, Oikawa held you close, his smile never wavering. He rubbed a thumb across your cheek, and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead.

“That was magical,” you murmured into his shirt, and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit happy to hear the laugh you liked so much.

You reckoned you’d be able to put together a solid design after tonight.

Oikawa had a skip in his step the following morning. He’d aced every assessment, finished all his homework, and made major breakthroughs at practice. His sets to Bokuto were so flawless that Bokuto could hardly believe he’d made those shots.

Everyone on the volleyball team was certain that something had happened, but Oikawa refused to let up.

He didn’t kiss and tell after all.

“What is up with you?” Iwaizumi asked good-naturedly, tipping back a water bottle. “You’ve been in a surprisingly good mood all morning.”

“It’s been a good day,” Oikawa smiled, offering no other details while picking up a few stray balls on the court. The gym floor seemed exceptionally shiny today. He’d be sure to thank whoever waxed the floor for their services when he could.

“Something definitely happened.” Kuroo chimed in, scrutinizing Oikawa like he was something under a microscope. “The question is what.”

“Am I not allowed to have good days?”

“No you are,” Kuroo smirked, “But a day this good only happens after a sudden surge in popularity which —last time I checked— didn’t happen, or……did you make some breakthrough?”

“With my sets, yes.”

“No,” Kuroo smiled knowingly. “I’m gonna curse them out for not telling me anything.”

Oikawa hid his surprise with a flash of indifference, though internally he cursed the middle blocker. It seemed that he was just as good at reading people as he was at read blocking.

Iwaizumi caught on almost immediately, casting his eyes to his longtime friend, who all of a sudden, was acting like a deer in headlights. He found it odd that the nature of your relationship with Oikawa had transformed seemingly overnight.

It seemed that you never truly harbored any resentment against him.

Still, he resolved to approach you about it as soon as he could.

The minute that you walked through the gym’s double doors, the entire team thought that they’d summoned you with all the prying they were doing. You hauled something large through the door and placed it against the wall, proud of yourself for the herculean effort it took to bring it through.

The minute he registered your presence, Oikawa’s face looked like a puff of cotton candy. His cheeks were rosy with all the teasing and the memories of last night, and when he saw what it was that you’d leaned against the wall, he thought he should run over and kiss you out of pride.

“Good morning guys,” you beamed, a smile so radiant that Oikawa had suddenly lost all the focus he’d had all morning.

“Morning Y/N,” Iwaizumi greeted, walking over to greet you with a hug and a slight gesture to the object that was now leaning against the wall. “Is this it?”

You nodded excitedly. “I got the inspiration to put it together last night. I think it captures the magic of the booth.”

Iwaizumi leaned to flip over the posterboard and decided that he’d never seen anything more fitting in his entire life.

The sign was a pastel wonder, a pale blue at the bottom and moving to a light pink at the top. Across the poster were small and light volleyballs, somewhat transparent against the background as if the pattern was a part of it. The borders of the poster were filled with various lip prints (and even funnier, some hidden Chapsticks).

The font at the center was a far cry from the scrawling archaic font that Kuroo had used on their initial flyers. It was a simple block font, a shade of pink with a glow filter and a pattern that made it look like a light-up sign on the part that really mattered.

The Volleyball Club presents, the poster read, written in a smaller font. Right below that, the light up letters spelled out The Mystic Kissbooth. Help kiss us to greatness.

The team crowded around the board, marveling at both its quality and its thoughtfulness.

“Y/N….” Bokuto trailed off, his eyes nearly bursting with amazement, “This is crazy!”

“Yeah,” Semi added, “This is ridiculously good. Kuroo, where the hell have you been keeping them.”

Kuroo simply crossed his arms and smiled with pride. He’d always believed in you.

Oikawa stood shell-shocked at your work, feeling all the days of preparation finally coming together. He looked at you and smiled a smile so genuine, you were glad you’d finally pulled through.

You looked to the floor bashfully for a moment before meeting the team’s eyes with renewed confidence. “Thank you. I’m glad to help.”

Iwaizumi stood at your side, smiling fondly at you before turning his gaze to Oikawa. “Hey. Oikawa. What is the deal with the de-stress carnival? When is it, where is it, and where are we setting up?”

Oikawa, still elated, looked around the gym at the team. “If you want details, I think we should call another meeting.”

”That is a great idea,” you chimed in.

“Wanna join?” Oikawa asked (hopefully).

”I’m sorry, I don’t think I can. I’ve got a date with Kiyoko.”

The team went silent. “You have a what?!”

The evening hues only made Kiyoko more beautiful. She was dressed casually, wearing classic blue jeans, a tank top, and a cardigan that only accentuated her figure. When she saw you approaching her, a smile appeared on her face instantaneously.

“Y/N!” She greeted, “It’s good to see you.”

You jogged up to her and pulled her into a friendly hug. “It’s good to see you too!”

You and Kiyoko fell into step naturally, opting to have dinner at one of your favorite places outside of campus. It was a quick walk from where you’d chosen to meet up, and in such good weather, it was a crime not to spend more time together.

“I have a lot to tell you about,” Kiyoko began, “Starting with Oikawa Tooru. He showed up in my room and asked for the host. He’s got to know it’s me right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I know you use a modulator to stay under wraps so people take the podcast seriously, but he’s had a very good track record for being perceptive.”

“That’s a pain” she sighed, “I hope he’s not going to spread it around.”

“He won’t,” you assured her, “Oikawa can understand rumors better than anyone.”

Kiyoko smiled relievedly, though she raised a brow at the mention of rumors. “Are those true?”

You fought the heat that seemed to emerge onto your face the minute she mentioned that. You just hoped it would go unnoticed by her.

Her blue eyes, unfortunately, were just as perceptive as they were pretty.

She smirked, crossing her arms and stopping on the sidewalk path. “When did that happen?”

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s keep walking.” You wish your voice had come out more strongly than a murmur.

“When?”

“Last night.” Damn Kiyoko for getting answers out of you.

“And…?” She raised her brows expectantly.

“Rumors are baseless but I confirm them. He is magical.”

“I ought to say something about that,” she giggled, and you wanted to bury yourself into your hands to avoid her teasing.

“Shush.”

The two of you had a lovely dinner and opted to grab a quick drink from the speciality beverage store next door. Kiyoko grabbed a strawberry milkshake and you opted for a tropical fruit floater that they’d just created. Thanks to Kiyoko, both drinks were on the house.

She nursed the straw between her lips and took a drag of her milkshake before meeting your eyes. “I have some information on the de-stress carnival.”

You urged her to continue, and Kiyoko did.

“Looks like Oikawa and the other members of clubs decided to officially name it the Cool Down Carnival. They’re just going to refer to it as Cool Down for ease. They’re planning to organize it the Saturday after midterms and they’ve been working on concessions like cotton candy, caramel apples, popcorn, and a whole boatload of stuff. Administration is also totally fine with this.”

“Wow,” was all you could say as a response. You were honestly impressed with Oikawa. He put so much thought and care into a silly rumor that had transformed into one of the school’s biggest upcoming events. He was an alchemist of opportunities, taking a rumor of lead and transforming it to gold.

“Yeah,” Kiyoko nodded, “I’ll get social media to cover it for me. So far, nobody doubts that I’m the manager of the ‘Cast, so it should be fairly reasonable for me to do.”

“Out of curiosity, do you know anything about how they’re planning to do the shifts of the booth?”

“All I know for certain is that Oikawa said he probably wasn’t gonna do a headlining shift…or a shift at all. A lot of the other members were perfectly fine with taking this on, but there has been some backlash.”

He was planning on not headlining the booth?

Your heart was suddenly very warm and fuzzy in your chest.

Kiyoko knowingly smiled at you before tipping at the front register and dragging you outside. The breeze was oddly pleasant, something a bit uncommon for this time of year. It was approaching colder weather, but it felt nearly spring-like.

“The weather isn’t making sense,” you said, enjoying the feeling of freedom that came with nighttime out.

“It hasn’t been making sense,” Kiyoko smiled, “We’re anticipating a fresh fair.”

Springs and falls blended together. You found a beautiful leaf on the sidewalk and pressed it to your palm, preserving the feel and look in your memory.

“I’m looking forward to it,” you’d finally tell Kiyoko as you parted ways, meaning each and every word.

When Oikawa had showed up at your doorstep in the morning, your sleep-addled brain could barely fathom the reason as to why he would do such a thing.

That was, until he walked into your room carrying breakfast in a brown bag.

“Good morning Y/N.” He said, voice still slightly raspy from a good night of sleep. (You weren’t going to forget how that sounded forever).

You greeted him with a morning greeting of your own and sat on your bed, stretching your limbs and analyzing the boy who—at this present moment—seemed like the happiest guy on earth.

“Feel free to help yourself,” Oikawa grinned, grabbing a bagel and a pack of cream cheese from the bag. “I have some updates for you.”

“Does it have to do with the Cool Down?” You walked over to the bag and grabbed something you liked from the inside.

“Wow. How did you know about the name?”

“I have my sources,” you winked.

Oikawa simply laughed. “I know it’s Kiyoko dumbass. She’s one of the sneakiest podcast hosts of all time.”

“So you do know.”

“Obviously.” Oikawa lounged on the chair in your corner. “Nobody else is ever working in that office. She should get some people to join her.”

You nodded and shifted to sit next to him on the couch. His warmth was a surprisingly pleasant addition into the morning, and you found yourself leaning into him. He didn’t make any move to stop it, opting to pull you in and place his arm over you.

“We have classes soon,” you said groggily, “But I don’t want to move.”

“We don’t have to right now.”

“Thanks Tooru.”

“Of course, Y/N.” He smiled. “Though we do have an afternoon meeting on how to divide the shifts. I’m not sure what we’re going to be doing about me.”

You suddenly felt a lot more awake. You shifted your weight onto your unsupported arm and looked up at Oikawa. “Are you planning to take a shift?”

Oikawa shifted nervously in his seat. “I’m not sure. I may have to for the sake of demand. Everyone is expecting me to live up to the expectation. I think we would be less successful without my involvement.”

You felt a twist of something. Not jealously, but not comfort either. Something between the two. You rose away from Oikawa, walking over to the opposite side of the room where your bed was and met his eyes.

“Do you really have to?” you asked, feeling partially unfair. There was nothing official between the two of you at the moment, but you’d thought after the kiss two nights ago…..you thought you had a chance.

“I might,” he gulped, “But you know you’re the only one I’ve ever wanted to kiss.”

You sighed exasperatedly. “I know that you came up with this as a business opportunity and because you thought we’d never…get anywhere, but a long shift is going to be a lot of people.”

“I know,” he sighed, meeting your eyes with an expression in his own that looked a lot like sadness. “But the fundraiser might just have to come first for now— no that’s not what I—“

“Please leave,” you said, voice wavering a bit, “I don’t want to deal with the whole priorities thing right now. We can say we kissed once for fun. Headline it if you must. Later Oikawa.”

You turned away from him and walked towards your closet to find appropriate clothes for the day. You couldn’t even stand to look at him right now. Things would become too complicated for you to handle.

“Y/N, I’m really sorry.” Oikawa said from behind you, “That is genuinely not what I meant.”

You turned to face him again, not even able to meet his eyes. “There’s got to be some semblance of truth in what you said earlier. You love your team Oikawa. They are important. I don’t expect you to throw away opportunities for me. We’re not even dating.” You laughed dryly. “I’d like a bit of space. We can talk a bit later.”

Oikawa seemed like he had a lot more to say, but he wordlessly slipped out of the door, leaving your room noticeably empty.

Once he’d left for certain, you collapsed onto the floor and let loose the dam of tears you’d held in for so long.

When Iwaizumi found you in the library, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Your eyes were reddened ever so slightly, covered over by a splash of cold water to the face (most likely), and your usual cheerfulness when you greeted him was a lot less lively.

He took the seat beside you, surprised by your lack of response.

”Hajime,” you said softly, turning over to smile sadly at him, “Good to see you here.”

Correction: something was horrifically wrong.

“What happened?” He asked softly, wondering what was enough to dampen your normally resilient spirit.

“Fucking Oikawa,” you laughed sarcastically, “Look at me saying I’d never get caught up in his web, and then doing exactly that.”

Iwaizumi wrinkled his brow. That day on the bench, he’d known enough to discern that you and Oikawa had some sort of history. That much continued to be made obvious by Oikawa’s constant urge to see you and include you in everything that he and Kuroo didn’t think was important enough to invite you to.

However, he wasn’t sure when you and Oikawa became more than a past set of acquaintances….and that stung a little. He understood your reasoning though. Especially if it was as complicated as you seemed to feel at the moment.

“Were you guys dating?”

“No.” You turned to face him in full, and he was struck by the magnitude of just how magnetic you were. Iwaizumi was guilty of being stuck in your orbit. “Just a kiss. Because he sweet talked me into thinking he wanted something.”

“Knowing him, he probably did.” Iwaizumi said, “Oikawa has a tendency to be obsessive to get what he wants, but also be blinded by obligations. This was definitely about him headlining the booth, right?”

You nodded, feeling a sudden tightness in your throat at the thought. You weren’t ready to confront the morning’s events quite yet.

“That dumbass,” Iwaizumi groaned, “If he’d told us that he liked you and had actually managed to make a move we would’ve gladly taken his shift! Who gives a fuck about what the college body wants? Half of them thirst over everyone!” You laughed a bit at the truth of that statement. “Yeah, and Kiyoko told me she was also planning on making a little appearance.”

At this Iwaizumi raised his brow. “Oh that’s about to be carnage.”

“Absolutely,” you giggled, “Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the lucky person.” Iwaizumi laughed, a sound that was low and sweet and comforting. “I think I’ll leave it to some of the other boys. They deserve a chance after all.”

The two of you grinned at the mental imagery of the team fighting for a chance to interact with your beautiful friend, and suddenly, Oikawa’s shittiness seemed like something far less relevant.

Still, even with the humor of the situation came the very uncomfortable realization that you and Oikawa–-whatever you were–-were done if you didn’t come to some consensus.

You shoved your hands into your face, wondering how the hell you’d managed to go from avoidant and unattached to too attached. Maybe the rumors had some merit. A kiss from Oikawa was all that it took to get so jumbled.

Iwaizumi’s warm palm on your back was what brought you back to your senses. He rubbed his slow circles and sat there patiently until you emerged from your cover of shame.

“What am I going to do?” you asked, voice raw and vulnerable and everything you’d rather it not have been.

“Whatever you want to do.” Iwaizumi’s gaze was genuine, soft eyes studying you. “You’re entitled to your own decisions. Kuroo and I would never ditch you for Shitty you know.”

“It’s for the team,” you whispered, feeling tears threatening to spill over your cheeks. Your vision was hazy, and you blinked slowly to clear the water from your eyes. “So then why do I feel like this?”

“Because you care about him, Y/N.” Iwaizumi squeezed your shoulder affectionately, “You and him clearly bonded on some intergalactic level, so having that be suddenly shattered in favor of something seemingly less important is going to feel like shit. In fact, he is the real piece of crap here.” “The team matters.” “The team is all about relationships.” Iwaizumi said firmly. “I have a hunch there’s someone in this tournament that he needs to beat. That’s why he’s been obsessively orchestrating the perfect way to raise money to have a practice match beforehand. Still, I won’t deny it. Oikawa is an idiot for doing this to you. You have all the rights to move on with your life.”

“I think I’m gonna take my space from him for a few days,” you eventually responded. “I think I’ll also not visit the booth. I’ll give Kuroo the sign in advance so he can help with setting up?”

Iwaizumi nodded solemnly. “If that’s what you need to do, I’ll be your number one supporter. I’d still love it if you could stop by though. We love having you around.”

You nodded at him. “I’ll be there for you and Kuroo. Always. And you guys can hang out with me at the Cool Down when you’re off shift.”

“Of course,” Iwaizumi smiled, “For you? Anything.”

“How do you say, ‘I’m angry’ in French?” The ping of the recording microphone tapped on as Oikawa paced quickly around his room.

“Je suis fâché.”

“How do you say, ‘I like to go out with my friends’ in French?” “J’aime sortir avec mes amis.”

“How do you say, ‘I went to my friend’s house’ in French?”

“Je ne veux pas continuer.”

“Oui Monsieur. À Bientôt!” His phone’s recording feature switched off, leaving him in a silent room once again.

He was regretful, so much so that he paced around in his room in the hopes that it would give him some sort of clarity. As much as he wanted to approach you, he knew you weren’t ready to talk to him right now.

“Shittykawa,” he heard from his door, opening with a subtlety and closing with a bang. Classic Iwa move.

He turned to face his best friend, who at this moment, seemed to be quite irritated with him. He could feel the lecture as certain as one could feel a thunderstorm in the air.

Iwaizumi stood, arms crossed in Oikawa’s room, leaning against the wall and pinning him with a look so strong it might as well have been a thumbtack. Oikawa felt rooted in place, and all the words he initially planned on saying left his mouth.

“So Ushijima Wakatoshi happens to be at a school just a bit over,” Iwa started, “I did my research. Why not play a practice match with them to start to see their setting style? Break down their setter, practice receiving from a left-handed person, and maybe we can beat him, right?”

Oikawa sighed, feeling all the fight leave his body. He made his way over to his pale blue rug and sat down. “I know. It’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is what you did to Y/N.” Iwaizumi glared at him. “If you’d said something about liking them and actually successfully getting them to like you, then we would’ve been perfectly capable of handling the shifts. Hell, even Kiyoko is coming. That alone will give people incentive to come and kiss us.”

“I made a mistake,” Oikawa cringed. He didn’t even want to think about the morning. What was intended to be a romantic gesture ended up being a horrible memory. His attempts to distract himself were futile, and he couldn’t help but wonder how Iwaizumi had found you. “But they probably don’t want to talk to me.”

Iwaizumi looked at Oikawa sadly. “They’re planning on skipping the booth. They’ve already decided to give their poster to Kuroo so he can help us with set-up. So don’t plan on seeing them.”

He grimaced. “Not coming? Really?”

Iwaizumi nodded. “I was pretty unhappy about it, but we’ve got to give them space to process everything.” The minute you’d smiled at him in the airport, talking about “college stampedes,” Oikawa knew he wanted nothing more but to know you better. He’d thanked every lucky star for the seats you had next to each other and relished every moment spent with you.

He wondered why you avoided him for the next months, always daydreaming about what he’d say to you when you finally reappeared at practices. He’d searched for you in your classes, but he always missed you.

When you walked into the gym on that fateful day, he thought he had a genuine chance. You were perfect. Your thoughts were exquisite, your smile radiant, and everything about you felt right. When he kissed you, he could’ve screamed to the heavens that his heart was yours.

Perhaps that was why his heart seemed to tear a bit at Iwaizumi’s declaration. You wanted to move on from this.

“Oikawa…you can still fix this you know?” Iwaizumi pulled him up from the rug, noting the reignited spark in his eyes. “You should probably get the fair set up, find Y/N, and explain yourself. I’m certain they’ll understand.”

“It’s the least I can do,” he said solemnly, “And if they still decide they want nothing to do with me, at least I did my part.”

You found him at Kuroo’s place at night when you’d stepped through his door uninvited (like you did at times). In your hands was your laptop, a few pencils, and the sign you’d made for the booth. The last thing you’d expected was to see the person you’d been trying so desperately to avoid.

Oikawa, for a moment, looked like he’d seen a ghost. He looked at the door, brown eyes concerned and scanning you as if you’d just walked in through the wall.

Nobody said anything. You stood still, too shell-shocked to process the fact that a night before the Cool Down, Oikawa was spending time with Kuroo. In fact, you could barely believe Kuroo had ever allowed Oikawa into his place in the first place, especially when he knew that you were planning on popping in at some point.

Kuroo’s eyes followed your gaze, finding it landing right on the floor next to Oikawa (as opposed to straight at him).

“Well,” Kuroo began softly, “I didn’t warn either of you.”

“You could have,” you said, looking back at Kuroo, “I would’ve liked to know before I got here.” “But then you would have never showed up.” Oikawa’s voice was clear, slicing through the silence of the room with a blade of decisiveness that you hadn’t heard from him. He looked you over, seemingly analyzing your health since the day he’d fucked up.

“I wasn’t planning on running into you,” you admitted, finding the courage to meet his eyes. “In fact, I was literally just coming to drop off the sign for your booth, talk to my best friend, and then go to bed.”

“Please let me explain myself.” Everything about Oikawa seemed pleading. His face harbored an expression of guilt so boundless that you weren’t sure how to react.

You wordlessly sat down in the corner chair closest to Kuroo’s door, setting your stuff down on the surface closest to it.

“I’m sure Iwaizumi must have told you what it was that we were raising money for.”

You nodded.

“I never had the chance to tell you more about what I struggled with in high school," Oikawa said quietly. “I was surrounded by talented players. Some of them are so talented that I thought I never even stood a chance. I realized at the end of my matches that I deserved to be on the court just as much as anyone else.”

“You’re a damn good setter Oikawa,” Kuroo interjected, “And even Semi admires your sets. He’s from the same school as Ushijima too.”

“Thank you,” Oikawa laughed softly, but even the sound was sad. He turned to meet your eyes. “I was out of line trying to say the volleyball club mattered more to me than what we were getting to be. I was worried they’d be weird at me for flaking, but they’re my team. Iwa told me they’d always have my back. Happy setter happy tosses right?”

You took a moment to process everything that he was saying, ultimately coming to one conclusion. He really did feel bad.

“Why are you so obsessed with having a chance to beat someone you had a rivalry with in highschool?”

Oikawa paused, contemplating your question. His brow was furrowed, and his hands clutched anxiously around nothing, seemingly finding the best words to phrase—whatever it was—that he was feeling.

“It was to give myself the confidence to know I can still beat tough opponents,” he said quietly. “But it was never worth losing you.”

You gently moved onto the floor, kneeling your way over to where Oikawa sat. When your fingertips skimmed his cheek, cool from the fall time air, he seemed fragile.

You gently curved your fingers to tuck a lock of his hair behind his ear. “Are you sure you mean it?”

“Every last word.” Oikawa whispers, and maybe against your better instincts, you pull him into an embrace.

As far as Oikawa was concerned, you weren’t coming to the booth today.

Cool Down’s set up began bright and early, and despite last night’s emotional clarity, Kuroo was still the one who showed up with the sign.

The booth was placed in a central location, but deep enough into the carnival so that after a sweet kiss, everyone could go and support the other clubs. He hadn’t been able to spot Kiyoko quite yet, but he was certain they were bound to cross paths eventually.

He walked across the grassy area where the carnival was being set up, watching the glorious “Cool Down” sign being placed at the front of the admit area. Many sports teams and board members of academic clubs were helping organize their own booths.

“Hey Oikawa! I can put up the banner!” Bokuto shouted from across the field, jogging up to their area with a rolled up “Mystic Kissbooth” backdrop.

“Be careful!” He yelled back, “We can’t have one of our best spikers getting hurt. I need those cross court and straight shots in perfect condition!”

Bokuto grinned so widely that Oikawa couldn’t help but grin back. “You can count on me!”

He took a moment to slouch against the now filled bouncy castle by their stand, clutching his clipboard to his chest. He could practically sense the excitement seeping into the space as the nearby club members set up their stands.

He’d had the opportunity to survey the space beforehand, and was quite pleased with the nearby stations.

The art club created a paint gun bullseye game to win handmade trinkets and jewelry. The president stood proudly at the set up side, excitedly loading up paint into the guns. He could already predict the boyfriends who’d attempt to win there.

To the other side of them was the statistics club’s probability stand. They’d set up numerous games: cards, a wheel, and even ring toss for the chance to win huge prizes. At the present moment, Kuroo was inquiring about the legitimacy of the airpods in one of the member’s hands (and yes—they were legit).

“This is pretty amazing, huh?”

Oikawa snapped out of his reverie, only to see Mattsun sporting his classic smirk. He looked around for Makki, but didn’t find him.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “I’m honestly surprised our little flier accomplished this much.”

“I’m not,” Mattsun chuckled, “You’ve been like this since high school Oikawa. Everyone here is really grateful for the rumors. Speaking of which…think the culprit is going to show up today?”

Oikawa snorted, momentarily horrified at the sound

that escaped him. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not planning on being a headliner. Iwa’s got that covered.”

Makki walked into view just a few moments later, looking thoroughly confused. “Where’s the rest of the team?”

Kuroo walked over at the exact moment, clapping Makki on the back. “We decided to give them a little break, considering they’re going to be doing all the kissing later.”

The group gathered together, and Mattsun pointed to the castle. “Who’s running this thing?”

“Oh it’s just a free fun thing the school is putting up.” Oikawa smacked it for good measure.

“How did midterms even go for you guys?” Kuroo laughed, “I pulled what I wanted in all my classes. Somehow. Orgo was a fucking miracle though. I genuinely thought I failed.”

“I was mostly fine,” Mattsun chuckled, “Though we won’t talk about history. Freaking liberal arts.”

Oikawa’s midterms had gone more or less to plan, but the added emotional stress had made it much more difficult to keep cool.

Standing there in that grassy field, he felt more at peace than he did the rest of the week.

Maybe today would be okay after all.

You and Iwaizumi were in your room trying to devise a plan on how to attend the carnival. The cool wood of your desk hit your wrist as you spread out the makeshift blueprint of the event that Kiyoko had so graciously given you.

Iwaizumi paced along the floor, inspecting outfits that you picked out while you devised a mental list of everywhere you wanted to go to maximize your enjoyment. Economic principles were literally designed off of utility, and you wanted to make sure all your contributions would have the best outcome for the clubs and yourself.

Midterms had been stressful, and while last night’s talk had fixed most of what had contributed to that stress, you still wondered about Oikawa.

Iwaizumi was the event’s new headliner, so what did that mean for Oikawa?

You weren’t sure.

The Saturday morning filled your room with sunshine that was comforting. From your window you were greeted with the multicolored leaves of campus, some floating down leisurely to hit the grass.

Iwaizumi, it seemed, had finally picked your outfit.

“Here,” he gestured, pointing to one of your favorites. “You rock this one.”

“Why thank you,” you smiled, tossing him the blueprint. “I’ve finally figured out the order I’m going to tour the Cool Down.”

Iwaizumi caught the paper in one arm, muscles flexing ever so slightly as he did. You nodded appreciatively. He was going to generate a shit ton of money.

He put a pen between his lips ever so slightly as he read the marks on the page. “Cotton candy. Art booth. Bouncy castle. Stats games. Chemistry lab. Apple dunk to win candy apples. Physics coaster.” He handed the page back. “That’s a pretty solid list. I think you’re missing something though.”

You pulled the pen out of Iwa’s mouth (surprised at your boldness) and smiled gently at him. “I’ll be sure to pop in at some point or be nearby to support you.”

Iwaizumi nodded, “Of course. I just need to beat you at any and all games we visit after my shift.”

You snickered. “Not a chance.”

Iwaizumi simply smirked in response.

“Hey, I need two tickets!” A student hollered to her assistant, who at the present moment, was working on acquiring more admit tickets from the roll they’d customized for the event. “We have quite the line here.”

“I’m working on it!” The assistant hollered back, jogging over with the entire row.

The line for the Cool Down was large, and you were thankful you’d had the foresight to arrive early enough to avoid a majority of the crowd. Being friends with Iwa had its perks too–the minute that the admitting team had spotted him, they’d immediately ushered you to the front so you were in a position to visit him later.

Soon enough, you were at the front of the line.

“Well hello there friend of Iwaizumi,” the girl at the front smiled, “How many tickets do you need?” “Just one,” you said, surprised at the lack of prompt to pay the entrance fee. “What about the entrance fee?”

“Oh, Iwaizumi took care of that already,” the assistant grinned, handing you a beautifully designed cardstock ticket and tying a wristband around your wrist. “So you can walk straight in.”

You smiled graciously at the duo. “Wow. I’ll go find him and pay him back. Thank you guys.”

Stepping around the ticket distribution center, you walked straight through the decorated entrance area and walked in.

For a moment, you were awestruck. The usually empty grass fields were filled to the brim with activity. All around you were the booths of various clubs, all with lines to try them out. You could smell the sweet and tart scent of caramel apples in the distance, and saw a couple trying out the physics club’s make-shift coaster with a cotton candy in their hands.

The late afternoon was brisk and fresh, and you felt the possibilities of the evening unfurl around you. As the sky darkened its hues, the fair would begin to light up from the fixtures that trimmed everyone’s areas. Everything, from the food areas, to even the Mystic Kissbooth would create a movie-like scene.

You decided right there and then that the Cool Down was the best fair you’d ever attended. You’d never seen anything as well thought out as what you saw today.

You made your way to the popcorn area, finding new booths that you hadn’t seen on the blueprint. In front of you was a simple dart-throw, with the guarantee of winning a special edition Cool Down shirt if you hit within a certain range.

This was intriguing.

“Hi there,” you said quietly, walking up to the booth. “Can I give this a whirl?” The booth’s president looked up at you shocked for a moment before nodding.

“Of course!” He said excitedly, elbowing his shift mate. “Y/L/N Y/N, right? We are huge fans of your work. Kuroo has told us so so much about you!”

“My work?” You asked curiously as they pressed a dart into your palm. “Like my fliers?” “Hell yeah,” the president grinned. “Pay if you win okay? I honestly want you to get our design out of it. We were inspired a bit by your Mystic Kissbooth sign.”

In the spirit of good fun, you aimed the dart as best as you could, so surprised when you hit a spot very close to the bulls-eye.

“Hey!” you shouted excitedly, “I actually got in range!” The president smiled excitedly. “Amazing! What’s your shirt size?” You told him your size, tucking a good amount of money into the jar. As soon as the soft shirt fabric hit your hands, you were immediately overcome with a sense of pride. The design was beautiful and simple, capturing the essence in the fair in just an image.

“You’re the design club?” You grinned, “This is amazing!” “Ah thank you,” the president said bashfully, “It’s an honor to get a compliment from you. You’re more than welcome to join us. Canva art is still art we love.”

“I’ll be sure to consider it!” You waved goodbye to the design booth as you made your way deeper into the fair, a t-shirt in hand.

“Hey there! Want a chance to win a cool plushie? Come right over!” You turned your head to be met with the sewing club with something that looked a lot like “Bop-It” set up with sheets of papers next to them. Out of sheer curiosity you made your way to the booth, finding a larger crowd than you anticipated. “Okay,” one of the members began, “Here is how this works. You and your competitor will receive a pre-programmed Bop-It machine. Follow the color scheme as closely as you can and note the last color in each sequence on your sheet. If you don’t mess up before your partner, you win ANY handmade plush of your choice!” In front of you, you spotted a couple tucking money into the jar and competing against one another. The round was quick, ending when someone clicked the wrong color. The handmade plushie of the winner was adorable.

Somehow, all your observations had led you to the front of the line.

“Hello,” a student smiled, “Do you have a competitor with you?” You were about to share a response when you heard a voice behind you. “Yeah, they do. I’d like to play please.” You were pleasantly surprised to find Kiyoko grinning as she tucked a hefty amount into the jar. The student at the front seemed enamored, and so did the entire line.

“Shimizu Kiyoko is here…” they all whispered.

“Hey Kiyoko,” you smiled, placing your own money in the jar. “Planning to beat me?”

“Of course.” She grinned mischievously, “I ran a volleyball team. I am competitive enough to beat you.”

The game began as soon as the students got a grip of themselves. You frantically hit the colors and noted them down, only to tie with Kiyoko. You’d both walked away with adorable plushies, though Kiyoko had forcibly had to ensure that they didn’t hand her an extra.

“I’m glad to run into you,” you smiled, walking with her further into the grass. “I had no idea what time you were planning to get here.”

“I’m glad I found you.” Her smile was infectious, and soon enough, you stood in front of a candy apple stand.

“Are you planning to visit the booth?” You asked her, watching her pay for her apple.

“Yeah,” she smiled, “Oikawa begged me to cover, so I was feeling nice. Though he’s been sulking lately.” You raised a brow. When you saw him last night, you could feel his fatigue. You felt the stress melt out of him when you pulled him in for a hug, but you hadn’t realized the extent of his distress.

“He hasn’t kissed today at all,” she smiled knowingly, “I think he’s saving an appearance for a special someone.” “He’s….not headlining?” You were shocked. After everything, it seemed that he really meant what he said.

“Nope,” Kiyoko wiped some caramel from her lips. “And the booth’s sales have been spectacular.”

Standing there in the field, you were hit with the intense urge to see him. “Go,” Kiyoko smiled, “They’ve been waiting for you to show up.” “We’ll catch up.” You smiled as you took off in a jog towards the booth. The wind swept your cheeks as you ran, and you could see the evening sun dip into different colors. Beautiful, you thought, feeling the adrenaline pump through your veins.

He really had meant everything. You needed to see him.

When you arrived at the booth, you were shocked at the line. So many students lined up, money in hand as they waited for their chance to kiss a volleyball player. You were shocked to see the crowd, watching someone hand Semi a particularly large bill before leaning in for a kiss.

You surveyed the booth for Oikawa, but you couldn’t find him anywhere. You couldn’t stop the thrum of your heart in your chest from overpowering your senses. Where was he? What if you were too late? At that particular moment, Oikawa walked out from behind the stand, putting some Chapstick onto his lips. And then, he saw you.

You stood in line, a large bill in hand and an expression that seemed almost desperate. Oikawa has never seen anyone look more perfect than you did right now. You held a handmade plushie and a shirt, lips flushed from biting them.

You met his eyes, feeling your heart shock at the sensation. There he was.

Before you even had a chance to think about what you were doing, you ran out of line to him, shoving the bill into his hands.

“Tooru,” you said breathlessly, looking at him with an expression he’d never seen before. “Kiyoko told me you weren’t headlining. I was afraid I wasn’t going to find you. I’m sorry for not trusting you.” Oikawa could hardly hide his shock as the words tumbled from your lips. He studied your cheeks, and smoothed out your wind mused hair with a soft smile. “Hey, it’s alright.” You exhaled, looking at him like he strung the stars. “I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.” Oikawa simply grinned before pulling you in for a passionate kiss.

This was different from the last time you kissed. He cupped your face softly and wrapped his other arm around your waist, tracing a small heart into your back. You could feel the curve of his lips as he kissed you softly, pulling you deeper when you smiled back into it. Everything about this was soft, almost loving. It felt like a truce. It felt like a confession.

It felt better than both of those things. When you finally split for air, his smile was nearly blinding. He looked at you like you were a poet and he was your poetry, a product of your purest affections.

“Go out with me sometime?” He looked nervous, standing there like he hadn’t just kissed you like you were the most special person in the universe.

“Of course,” you grinned, pulling him down for another kiss.

if you got this far, thank you for reading <3!!

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rizsu · 2 months

Text

fuck my life; hold me tight. model!gojo satoru ⭒ fem-reader.

satoru came back after his two-week long trip for his modeling gigs. he's the same, but who's this ‘saori’ lady with a thorny stick up her ass? wc : 6.2k · usage of y/n.

+ love ‘su: thou shall not lie, thou shall not cheat! 😝 i left this without the small font bc it's lowkey a lot tbh

one › who's this?

undoubtedly, today’s the most important. you’ve been impatiently crossing off the days on the calendar until satoru returns. familiar with your excitement, he called you prior to hold you back from coming to the airport. it was strange, but nevertheless you thought less of it.

with your day now free, you spent it preparing for satoru. his favorite dishes were made, charcuterie board prepared, and the series you both watched together can be resumed. every time the thought of seeing satoru with your eyes again comes about, you get goosebumps. it’s almost sickening how he’s plagued your mind, becoming the balance-shifting object for your moods.

your eyes shift to the clock, realizing that there’s only an hour until he walks through the door. 4:00 p.m it reads, you’ve yet to shower — let alone choose an outfit. some may say your actions are too much, but nothing is ever “too much” when it comes to satoru. have you lost your marbles? not all, but perhaps you’ve become slightly boy crazy (with justifying reasons!)

4:58 p.m: you’re anxiously switching between apps on your phone, trying your best to not stare at the clock on the top of the screen. it’s insanely tempting, but you won’t give in. there’s no better distraction than window shopping on websites for items you’ll never set free with your credit card.

the door slams open, and soon a cheerful voice follows. they both jerk you out of your trance, leaving you with the pair of a palpitating heart and widened eyes.

“BABY!” a disheveled satoru shouts, recklessly dropping his luggage at the front of the door.

he walk-runs past the furniture, dodging the table corners until he’s nearing the sofa you’re situated on.

“sa-SATORU?!” you’re shocked even though you expected his arrival.

you unconsciously stood up, abandoning your phone as you moved to him. satoru mirrors you, being the first of the two to engulf you into a heartfelt hug. he squeezes you hard, burying his head into the junction between your neck and shoulder. his hand cups the back of your head, pressing softly into your hair.

“i missed you,” he whispers, letting out a shaky breath. “it took an entire week to sleep properly without you.”

“you’re addicted,” you joked, lifting a hand to ruffle his already-ruffled hair.

“not funny.”

“okay, okay, sorry. i missed you too.” you pull away from satoru, smiling at his pouting expression.

your hands move to his shoulders, gripping his puffed jacket to pull them down. he helps you by moving his arms out of it. once it’s off, he rolls his shoulders back, rolling his neck around to stretch his muscles. he’s been cooped up in a sitting position for twelve hours; the last thing he needs are stiff muscles and a sore body.

content with the new, relaxed feeling, satoru looks around. everything’s the same, as expected. nothing changed other than the charcuterie board on the coffee table and the dishes on the dining table. immediately, he recognizes the food. how could he not? it’s the food he labeled as his favorite even when it wasn’t.

in multiple attempts to please your mother on the first meeting, he went along with her words.

the soap opera she’s caught up in? oh, he’s been watching it too!

short videos she found on social media that are painfully unfunny? actually, it’s hilarious!

the lunch she cooked? it’s now something he’s been craving for weeks.

the salad? to you, he hates greens since they’re ‘flavorless’. to your mother? golly! put more on his plate!

he spent the week at your parents’ gaslighting himself until it became the truth. he became a new man after the meeting. lemon water was his new go-to (influenced by your mother) and card games are his forte (influenced by your father).

ever since then the main dish your mother cooked up became his true favorite. maybe it’s because of the warmth that came with it, or maybe it’s because he’s still gaslighting himself. nonetheless, he’ll always eat it.

“did you make all this yourself?” he questions, stealing a bite before you could’ve plated his food.

“hands off,” you slapped his hand, “i didn’t, though. i asked my mother.”

“ah, my mother-in-law. i miss your parents, too. we should visit,” he suggests, rubbing his hand that you heartlessly slapped.

“mhm, soon,” you agreed, sliding his plate to him. “let’s sit and eat.”

──

the plates are cleared, the charcuterie board’s three-quarters finished, and you’re on the final episode of season one of the show. satoru’s head is on your lap, busying his hands by poking at your thigh’s skin. your hand’s following suit, busying itself by playing with his hair strands.

the show was long forgotten, being demoted to background noise the moment you asked satoru to tell you all about the trip. you’ve heard the details beforehand during your calls, but it’s different to hear it face-to-face.

you intently listened as he talked, giving him mhms and yeahs to let him know you’re listening.

“oh, and i met a new co-worker? friend? i dunno but we’re acquainted now,” he speaks, looking up to you.

“really? i’m glad. is he a model too?”

“yeah, but it’s a she.”

you paused for a second. a she? that’s new. you’re not the type to anger yourself over your boyfriend befriending the opposite gender, but you’d still like to see her.

“i’d like to meet her,” you said, looking down at him with a soft smile.

“are you free in two days? i have a meeting that day. she’ll probably be there — no chances though, i never asked about her schedule...” his voice trails off as he ponders, trying to remember if she mentioned anything about being in a meeting after the trip.

“of course i’m free. i took a sick leave on purpose for this week.”

satoru laughs at the new information. you took a sick leave just for him? at your position of head assistant? he’ll never find someone who loves him like you do.

— two days after : the meeting.

you’re walking hand-in-hand with satoru through the hallway. you’re a little — no, incredibly nervous. it’s your first time officially meeting satoru’s business buddies. they know of you, you know of them, but that’s about it.

you dressed yourself up professionally, trying to match the classy rich vibes. it’s times like these you appreciate satoru’s over-the-top, multiple-zeros gifts. you’ll have to remember to give him special thanks for this.

“okay, we’re here,” he says, knocking you out of the nervousness.

“if you start feeling uncomfortable, squeeze my hand, okay? i’ll take you out of there,” reassuring you, he gifts you a peck on your forehead, topping it off with his genuine smile that’s only for you.

his hand turns the door knob, walking in with his model smile as he greets the members. you’re tailing behind him, trying to hide. the sudden energy shift didn’t match yours, so your instinct to hide behind satoru kicked in. unluckily for you, your boyfriend was set to formally introduce you. he uses a hand to hold your wrist, pulling you to the side of him.

“you brought a plus one with you i see,” a guy notes the obvious, smiling at your shyness. he already has an idea of who you are.

his words catch the attention of others. within seconds every pair of eyes landed on you. unfamiliar with the amount of attention, you squeezed satoru’s hand, placing a fake smile to mask your uncomfort.

“nuh uh, get your own. that’s too much staring,” satoru complains, squeezing back your hand. he steps in front of you, leading you both to two reserved seats at the table.

“i’m assuming that lady must be the one you talked everyone’s ears off about,” a lady suggests this time, stretching out her arm to you as she’s on the opposite side, but directly in front of you.

you stretched your arm out to her, accepting her handshake.

“i’m (y/n), pleasure to meet you.”

“it’s a pleasure to meet you too. call me mia,” she introduces herself, ignoring the heated glare of a man who doesn’t like sharing.

similarly, you’re ignoring the gut feeling of someone glaring through your soul. the situation feels similar to your teacher staring at you during an exam when you secretly have cheating materials with you.

the meeting continues on. you were introduced to everyone and met with questions. some complained about satoru to you, and others asked how you’re able to tolerate him. of course, satoru took offense. he flipped them off with the finger that has your matching rings on.

an hour later, you’re in the building’s cafeteria with satoru. it was okay; the atmosphere was friendly — minus that one person who glared at you. you don’t know who they are, nor what they look like as you avoided that corner. your social battery is drained, and you’re hungry for a light snack.

“baby, can you order for us? i gotta let it go. real bad,” satoru says, balling his fingers into a fist to hold back the feeling.

“uh, sure, but what do you mean let it go?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“piss, baby. piss. love you, bye!”

with that, satoru speeds off, almost colliding with another worker in the process.

gathering your order, you looked around for an unoccupied table to sit at. unfortunately, they’re all unoccupied. it’s a little awkward, but you’re left with no other option than to ask someone if satoru has his own office.

“ah, mia!” you called out, spotting her outside the smoking room.

“(y/n)! need anything before i smoke?” she smiles, pointing at the door.

“um, do you know if satoru has his own office?” contrary to your nervousness, your voice came out perfectly.

“take the elevator and press number ten. turn left and stop until you’re at the third room; that’s his office.”

“thanks much, mia!” you gave her a bright smile, turning around to find your new destination.

“no problem, (y/n),” she waves you off, entering the smoking room.

you followed mia’s directions, taking the elevator to floor ten and entering the third room on the left. it’s no doubt that the office is satoru’s. the pineapple-framed mirror confirmed it all. that mirror is the same mirror satoru try to convince you that it’s “in style”.

settling down in his office, you can finally be at rest. placing the food his desk, you plopped yourself down on his chair.

‘it’s comfortable, but surely it doesn’t take that long to pee,’ you think, suspecting that satoru may have gotten caught up in a conversation.

the door clicks, opening to reveal someone. your mind thought of satoru, but it was indeed not. it wasn’t even the right gender. a beautiful girl entered; her aura was a cool, mysterious, “i’m better than you” feel. confusion poured down on you. who is she and why is she here?

you don’t strike a conversation. instead, you simply watch her walk into the office until she’s in front of the desk.

“do you need some—”

“you must be gojo satoru’s bitch.”

“excuse me?” not only were you cut off, you were called a bitch. clearly, she’s not on friendly terms, and who does she think she is?

she looks down at you, placing a taunting smile on her lips. you don’t care since you’re the one on his chair, but who is she calling a bitch?!

“compared to satoru, you’re… low, to put it kindly!”

“okay, but who asked you that?” you questioned her, rolling your eyes.

if you were in a fantasy novel, she’d be the main villainess who’s engaged to the male lead for political reasons. you’re the female lead who’ll become victim to the villainess’ antics as the male lead, satoru, fell for you.

flustered at your sentence, she scoffs. compared to the shy persona you displayed at the meeting, you’re all bitchy now.

“i don’t need someone to ask me something in order to speak my mind.”

“oh my god. i didn’t ask you that, nor do i want your input.” you rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your drink.

“i don’t like you. you’re not good enough for satoru,” she voices her (unwanted) opinions, scanning you up and down.

“it’s gojo to you, missy. who’s the girlfriend here?” you noted her mistakes while making your position obvious.

she rolls her eyes, offended at being called ‘missy.’

“and it’s saori, not missy. get it right.”

“why must you disturb my tranquility with your nonsense ? please exit, missy.”

“i said it’s—”

“saori? why are you here?” satoru enters, removing his coat in the process.

“that’s what i asked her,” you said, looking at her up and down with a raised eyebrow.

“i wanted to meet your girl-friend, satoru!” suddenly her tone changed. the space she put between the word girlfriend didn’t go unnoticed by you either.

this is ridiculous.

he slowly nods, thinking that the deliberate pause between girlfriend might’ve been his imagination.

“oh, i was gonna introduce you guys. you beat me to it,” he pouts, walking over next to you to give you another kiss.

you smiled at satoru but smirked at saori.

irritated, she huffs, “i’ve seen enough, call me when you’re free from that, satoru.”

both of you watch her walk out in silence. satoru’s now confused.

“what’s that about?” he asks, scratching his head.

“is she the friend you talked about?” you answered his question with your question.

“yeah, but i don’t know why she has such an attitude all of a sudden. did her boyfriend argue with her?”

“pfft— she has a boyfriend?” you scoffed, learning that she’s not only the bitch, but potentially unloyal. why else would she bother you, who’s satoru’s girlfriend, if it wasn’t because she likes him?

he nods, shrugging off the curiosity to know what’s with her shift in behavior.

“whatever, let’s eat, baby.”

──

it’s way past your bedtime, and you’ve just arrived home. the day was eventful, minus the missy encounter, but nonetheless you had fun.

although you’re glad to be acquainted with satoru’s peers, you couldn’t shake off the suspicion that sao-whatever-her-name-is has been making advances to satoru while your presence was absent.

you can tell that satoru holds no affection to her, but you’re still worried. satoru’s loyal, yes, but he’s an oblivious idiot. if he nor you isn’t the one flirting, he wouldn’t notice anything. that’s why her behavior change whenever he’s around is seen as “friendly” and not “i want you so bad” to him.

you sighed, shaking your head to rid it of her. what’s important is that satoru isn’t interested in her. you can sleep with that comforting image in mind.

now that satoru’s home, you’ve been attached to each other like the north and south pole of two magnets. inseparable. it’s been like this for a week, but something changed.

two › is it just you or…?

the sao-still-don’t-remember-her-name missy has been ringing satoru’s phone down whether it’s by messages, voice messages, or calls. at this point, it’s annoying. satoru himself was one call away from blocking her, but he couldn’t.

aside from satoru himself, she’s the other key member in the new project. if he suddenly draws a line between them it can become what kills the project. thankfully, the conversations have been limited to work-related topics… or so you believe.

you’re on the sofa, indulging in a new show as you peeled an apple. the show’s plot became so intense that your eyes are glued to the television instead of the apple.

satoru jugs down the stairs, grabbing his car keys and running over behind you. he bends over to place a kiss on your cheek, notifying you that he’ll be meeting up with saori. not paying any mind to him, you bid him goodbye without thinking.

it’s only after he exits the door you register what he said. ‘meeting up with saori? that bitch? ew,’ you shuddered at the thought of her. she’s not scary, definitely not ugly, but sure as hell is a bitch. at least you remember her name now.

──

after that day, satoru’s free time has been occupied with her. you’re now sure it’s not “just work” that’s been going on. you trust satoru, but you don’t trust her.

there’s no reason for someone to meet up with their co-worker every day for work. work is never that interesting. it’s not like they’re in charge of the project either; the project is within the authority of mia and some other guy.

everything about the situation at hand has been bothering you. was she attached to satoru like this during the trip? were they always within arms length of each other? not even you were that clingy to satoru.

the idea to raise alarm bells to satoru crossed you, but the potential argument that may follow is what has you hesitating. you don’t want to suspect satoru’s friend, but her behavior needs to be discussed.

you waited until satoru’s home, showered, and comfortable in bed to bring forth the question. your palms are sweating, but it needs to be done.

“say satoru, can i ask you something?” you hesitated, looking at him.

“yeah, why not?” he replies, eyes stuck on his phone.

“what do you think of that girl?”

“who’s that— do you mean saori?” he laughs, “she’s cool, if i were to be honest. she’s fun to hang around with.”

“has it ever crossed your mind that she likes you?” you cold sweat, worried that he’ll take offense.

“who wouldn’t like me? i’m sexy,” he jokes, winking at you.

you playfully slap his chest. “i’m being serious here!”

“i don’t think she does— or at least i hope she doesn’t. i don’t want to be her boyfriend’s archenemy,” satoru truthfully responds, feeling his pores raise at the thought of a taken man’s enemy.

if you were to like another man satoru would honestly write a will and erase himself from history. so, it’s only natural that he hopes saori doesn’t become her boyfriend’s pain.

you hum, satisfied with his answer. it’s clear as day now. satoru doesn’t view her in any romantic way, but you know she has a thing or two for him.

not wanting to push your luck, you end it there. pulling satoru’s phone away to throw your body on his.

three › wicked witch of the west.

it’s almost as if the conversation with satoru triggered a chain reaction. for whatever the reason may be, you’ve now seen this woman more than your own parents. she invites herself over almost every day.

every time you open the door it’s her snobby face. it sickens you. you ordered a package recently and whenever someone knocks on the door, you think it’s the delivery guy, but nope! it’s the wicked witch of the west!

today it happened again. someone knocked, you opened, missy appears, satoru unwillingly follows her for the sake of the project, you’re left with murderous intent.

it’s time you talk about this with someone. that’s right, you’ve kept your worries inside you but this is just too much! there’s no reason for a taken lady to follow another man like she’s his shadow — far less for a taken man!

frustrated, you phoned your friend.

“hey, utahime.”

“(y/n), my baby! how are you?”

“i’m okay-ish, how about you?”

“i’m good, but what’s up?”

“well… can i come over? i’ll tell you there. i just need to get out.”

“of course you can! you were always here before that thing of a man took you over.”

“all right, i’ll be there in ten!”

──

utahime’s home always brought you comfort; it’s where you go when you needed to escape. due to her dislike for people outside her circle, not everyone knows of her address— especially not satoru.

she engulfed you in a hug the moment she opened the door. you can’t hide anything from utahime, she knew you were out of it from your face.

“i’ll put ramen on the stove, go make yourself comfortable,” she ordered, closing the door behind you.

you followed her words, throwing yourself face first on her sofa. you loudly groaned, annoyed at the idea of saori getting all touchy-touchy with your satoru.

“let’s talk about it,” utahime speaks, pausing the television before she sits on the floor next to you.

you lift your head to look at her, open your mouth, and close it back. ‘let’s not question it,’ you think, knowing that utahime prefers the floor at home ever since you knew her.

“so… there’s this girl named saori—”

“i knew i should’ve ran over satoru yesterday.”

“and then— wait— HUH???” you sputtered, shocked at utahime’s words.

“i saw him crossing the street by himself yesterday. it took a lot of convincing to not floor the gas pedal,” she sighed, knowing she missed the jackpot. “anyway, continue.”

your mouth hangs open for a few more seconds before you regain yourself.

“right… anyway. she’s satoru’s new co-worker and i don’t like her. on our first meeting she called me ‘satoru’s bitch’ and after that she’s been occupying his free time every-fucking-day. she has a BOYFRIEND! like damn bitch! move away from my boyfriend,” you dumped the information on utahime, shoving your head back into the cushion.

“my baby, just said the word,” utahime faces you, moving her hand to pat your back.

“for what?” your voice comes out muffled.

“to put a bounty on their heads.”

a groan leaves you. there’s no hope.

“i’m kidding, i’m kidding. we can devise a plan, however.”

your head perks up. your attention has been successfully gained. utahime stands up, a bright smile adorns her face. you have a major feeling that something mischievous is going to play out real, real soon. utahime never smiles so brightly unless she’s plotting something despicable.

you squint your eyes at her, watching her back as she walks to the kitchen.

“‘hime…”

“don’t worry; just trust me.”

6:43 p.m: you’re now being a sack of potatoes on utahime’s bed. the day flew by and you haven’t heard from satoru ever since he left. no way it won’t leave a sour taste in your mouth, but you couldn’t find the energy to care at this moment.

you're preoccupied on utahime’s laptop, carefully choosing the perfect inner-walls design for the house game you stumbled upon. interior design might just be your new job.

deep into the game, your phone rings. you groan in annoyance, picking your phone up to see who decided it’ll be a good time to bother you.

satoru is calling you.

clicking your tongue, you slid on the green button.

“satoru, what’s up?”

“babe, are you home?”

“i’m not, why?”

“whyyyyy? i brought food for you.”

“i’ll have it when i’m home. sorry i’m not there right now, satoru.”

“oh, i almost forgot. saori’s here too.”

“ew— i mean, okay. don’t let her near my stuff nor our room.”

“yeah, bye baby. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

“that’s so disgusting. get out of my house,” utahime voices her feelings, screwing her face up at the sight of you being lovey-dovey with satoru.

you laughed at her, returning your attention to the game. utahime walks to her closet, choosing an outfit for the night. she’s fresh out of the shower, wet hair wrapped up in a towel. you can hear her grumbling something along the lines of “i hate couples” as she threw clothes on the floor to look for “that one black pajama shorts.”

once successful, utahime threw herself onto the bed. she took over your phone, going into your messages for her chat to send herself photos you’ve long forgotten to send. never will she ever ask you for photos after the hangout.

“by the way,” she says, “what did that man call for?”

you sigh, looking at her with a blank expression, “saori’s gonna be there.”

“does she even have her own life? that saowhore or whatever you said her name is.” utahime rolls her eyes, her mood immediately soured.

shrugging, you click your tongue, “it is what it is. this game is more important.”

──

it took not one, not two, not three, but five attempts to convince utahime to let you go home. she was completely against the idea of letting you drive home alone when it’s 10 p.m.

you would’ve given in if it wasn’t for the dreadful feeling that you need to be home. you basically sped through the roads, and most definitely ran a red light accidentally. nevertheless, you arrived safely.

suddenly, your heartbeat races. a heat creeps up the back of your head; you can feel a headache in the making. something’s telling you that you’ll need to confront a certain someone.

opening the door as quietly as you can, you stepped in, removing your shoes and tiptoeing inside.

maybe you should’ve let utahime go through with her plans.

the sight before you disgusts you as much as satoru disgusts utahime. why, just why, is this woman still here? is she crazy? why are her legs on satoru, and why is he allowing it?

“goodness, if i didn’t know better i’d ask you if you’re homeless,” you sarcastically spoke, taking the remote to turn the television off.

“get,” you took hold of one of her legs, shoving it off satoru. “off my fucking boyfriend.”

satoru watches, shocked at the scene. his eyes are unfocused; it’s evident that he zoned out a long time ago.

saori scoffs, moving her leg back on satoru’s lap. “why should i?”

you tilt your head, smiling angelically. the smile lasted milliseconds before it dropped. you’ve had quite enough and she’ll be subjected to your anger.

grabbing her arm, you roughly dragged her off the sofa. saori wasn’t one to accept such treatment. she retaliated, shuffling her arm around until she’s off your grip.

“are you fucking crazy?!” saori yelled, eyes wide with heavy breaths.

“not quite!” you pointed towards the door. “get out before i drag you myself.”

satoru’s silent. afraid of angering you, he stays put and watches from a distance.

“fuck off,” saori speaks, “satoru, text me when you’re off your dog collar.”

your anger reached its peak. grabbing the closest thing, which happened to be a mug, you threw it in her direction, aiming to miss her but hit close enough to her.

“ARE YOU INSANE!?” saori’s stumbles to the side, clenching her jaw, looking down at the broken pieces of the ceramic mug.

the scene alarms satoru, he decides to do something. standing up, he reaches for your wrist, pulling you to him.

“i think it’s time you leave, saori. i didn’t even know you were still here,” satoru’s voice is calm, but filled with authority. his words hold truth to them, he zoned out a while ago, unaware that saori’s still around.

clicking her tongue, her eyes twitch. she couldn’t muster up anything to say. being left with no choice but to listen to satoru, she saw herself out.

the quietness settles in. you were right about the headache, it’s definitely coming in.

“baby—”

“save it,” you stopped him, “but who the fuck is she to think i have you on a dog collar? i’ll put her on a collar.”

guilt settles in satoru, he shouldn’t have brought her in.

“i don’t why she said that. you don’t have me ‘on a dog collar’ i swear,” he rambles, placing a hand on his chest.

your gaze settled on satoru. you’re tired, a headache is there, and you probably went overboard. you’re not in the mood to hear him.

“satoru, i trust you. but i don’t trust her.”

“i’ll make her apologize.”

“ew, no.” you shivered at the thought of her apologizing. “i don’t want you near her anymore. her intentions are too fucking obvious.”

satoru physically hesitates. swallowing a gulp, his words come out quietly, “i can’t ignore her just like that..”

just as you were about to walk away, your head whipped to satoru as if you were slapped in that direction.

“what?”

“the project’s still ongoing, baby. i can’t ignore her just because you want me too.”

“fucking hell. kiss my ass, satoru. kiss her ass too while you’re at it,” you spat, flipping him off as you walked away.

if he can’t ignore her “just because you said so” then he can be ignored by you. maybe he did said something to make her think he’s on a dog collar.

you hear satoru calling for you, but you gave him no attention. you’ll deal with it tomorrow.

four › satoru’s new piercing idea: a bullet through his head.

satoru fucked up. he knows he fucked up. he should’ve said that after you calmed down. it couldn’t have gotten worse than this. the night flew by with you facing your back to him, the morning came with you acting as if he’s invisible.

sure, he fucked up, but at least reply to his good morning?!

he doesn’t know what to do. this is the first time you were angered to this point. usually, he’d be the one to better your mood, but he’s apart of the reason you’re as mad as you are.

your behavior went on for three days. far longer than satoru had anticipated. he’s given you your space, but now he can’t focus on his job.

his co-workers knew something was off with satoru. he’s not his usual self. they knew something happened the moment he declined a free meal. secretly, they gathered around, holding a confidential meeting to discuss satoru’s behavior.

everyone gave their opinions until an agreement was made: a couple’s argument had occurred.

evidence to support? satoru refrained from mentioning you, gave awkward answers when someone asked about you, and sulked when he looked at his lockscreen which was you.

saori, however, advanced her advancements to satoru. today was another day of her throwing her cleavage at him.

the photoshoot theme included two persons, but they weren’t meant to touch. they needed to act like enemies, but saori’s touching satoru as if he’s an all-you-can-touch event.

her hands slid down his chest, stopping at his abs. satoru doesn’t react— his eyes are empty, it’s clear that he wants the photoshoot to be over.

mia observed the two ever since the business trip, and she came to the conclusion that saori’s craving a place she was never meant to have.

“well aren’t you a little handsy, miss saori,” mia calls out, stopping the cameraman. “had i not known your boyfriend, i would've thought you were single.”

“who asked?” saori gives an attitude, but she moves her hand from satoru. the mention of her boyfriend bothered her.

the staff goes silent. a tension forms in the atmosphere. the calm before the storm, as they call it.

mia walks towards the two, placing a hand on saori’s shoulder when she nears her.

squeezing her shoulder, she leans down to saori’s level, “who’s the boss here? you’re chatty for a little girl who wants others’ belongings.” mia taunts, her voice cold.

saori gulps, slapping mia’s hand off her.

the action doesn’t bother mia in the slightest. instead, she leans to saori’s ears, whispering the unfortunate truth to her, “satoru will never want you, saori. remember that.”

straightening her posture, mia turns around to walk back to her designated position.

“back to work, everyone!”

with her order, everyone returns back to their previous doings. the tension is still heavy, and satoru’s still holds his empty gaze.

──

a thirty-minute break was called. at this moment, to each their own. the staff scrambled around, but satoru stayed put.

“saori,” his voice drags, “let’s talk alone.”

her expression brightens, feeling the butterflies tingle in her stomach. but little does she know, satoru’s about to act out of the character she knows him to be.

“s-sure! let’s do it in your dressing room,” she suggests, pulling satoru there.

once they’re in, she locks the door behind them. satoru sighs at the sight, but he doesn’t say anything about it. there’s something else he came here for.

“saori, do you like me? romantically?” he asks, leaning on the wall with crossed arms.

“i do,” she boldly confirms.

“then stop. you’re getting in between my relationship with (y/n),” he glares at saori, deciding it’s time to draw the line.

“ha, you’re still on that leash i see,” she scoffs, walking towards satoru until they’re face-to-face. “i’m better, satoru. you should choose me.”

satoru unfolds his arms, using one to push her away.

“saori, i’ve thought of you as nothing but a co-worker, a friend. you cannot be (y/n). so please, stop.”

clenching her jaw, saori tugs at satoru’s shirt’s collar, “i don’t give a flying fuck! you should be mine.”

satoru feels disgusted, a chain of chills cover his body. has saori always been like this?

“you have a boyfriend, for fuck’s sake!” he slaps her hand away, moving towards the door.

before he unlocks the door, he stops, turning around to clarify something before he forgets to, “oh, and if anything, the truth is that i’m the one who placed a dog collar on myself. so watch your mouth.”

with that, he leaves her alone, walking to where mia’s positioned.

“mia,” he calls for her.

mia turns to him, eyes wide for a second before she returns to her usual expression.

“need something, lovesick boy?” she teases, raising her eyebrows at him.

“if saori isn’t withdrawn from this project, then i’ll withdraw myself,” he threatens, running a hand through his hair exposing his forehead.

‘i’m not sure if this is unexpected or expected,’ mia thinks, not surprised at satoru’s request. it was only a matter of time.

“i’ll withdraw her. she pissed me off, too,” giving satoru her answer she pauses, and then continues, “but you really need to learn how to tell apart platonic actions from romantic.”

satoru cringes at her words, “ugh, leave me alone. i’m leaving.”

“you’ll be penalized for leaving during working hours!”

“blah blah blah.”

──

satoru’s destination was obvious. it’s your shared home. he would make his business to break the ice first.

messily unlocking the door, he kicks his shoes off, immediately looking for you. you’re not on the sofa, not in the bathroom, not in the kitchen, where the fuck are you?!

checking off your usual spots, he’s left with one: the bedroom.

quietly opening the door, he peeks in, observing the room for you. once he found you, he tiptoed in.

your back was turned to the door. whether you were sleeping or not was the least of his problems. he’ll wake you up if he has to.

“baby,” he carefully speaks, sitting on the edge of the bed with a hand on your blanketed figure.

you don’t answer him, but you do turn around to face him.

“i talked to saori. we won’t be in contact any time soon.”

“oh wow,” you said.

he clears his throat at your sarcasm, “ahem— anyway, i told her off, and asked for her to be removed from the project.”

“what made this sudden change? i thought you were glued to her.”

“she was glued to me!” he clarifies.

“tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.”

ignoring your snarky remarks, he continues, “i told her about the ‘dog collar’ comment. i even told her to watch her mouth. i’ll cut contact with her on my phone, too.”

“so she’s gone? completely?” you questioned, removing a hand from under the blanket.

“yeah, i received a divine revelation and came to my senses. really, i thought she saw me as platonic as i saw her. i swear!” he confirms his innocence, staring at you with sadden eyes.

“you’re still a bitch,” you said, “i almost allowed utahime to go through with her bounty plan.”

sitting up, you took one of satoru’s fingers in your hand, “i’m glad you did that, but i’m still mad. you made me want to tell you to go fuck her and done with it.”

satoru’s mouth hangs open at the newly gained information.

“i didn’t, as you can see. i still love you so such words would never be spoken.”

“‘still’ she said.”

“don’t push it.”

a laugh escapes him. not listening to your warning, he pulls you into a hug. this time, it was a hug of desperation and relief. his head’s buried in your neck, breathing in the body mist you always wear at home.

“i’m sorry,” he apologizes.

“dear god, fuck that bitch i hope she dies,” you comforted satoru, returning his hug and patting his back.

do you have an issue with satoru? no, but he did set you off when he refused to cut contact with her when you asked.

it took him quite some days to see the vision, and you’re glad he did.

hey guys 😣 if anyone’s confused about this part:

“what made this sudden change? i thought you were glued to her.”

“she was glued to me!” he clarifies.

“tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.”

it simply means “what’s the difference?”

when (y/n) said she thought satoru was glued to saori, satoru responded with “she’s glued to me!”

(y/n) says “tomato, tomahto. potato, potahto.” because it doesn’t matter how you pronounce it since it’s the same word. there’s no difference.

satoru was glued to saori and vice versa so what’s the difference fr

hope this helped 😜

#+ rizsu: jujutsu kaisen.#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru angst #gojo angst #gojo oneshot #jjk oneshot #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff

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tkttkt · 2 years

Link

#video editing #fonts #free tools #graphic design #graphic designer #art #artists on tumblr #best fonts #best font pairing tools #typefaces #websites #creative #design blog #thekoffeetable

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charles-leclerizz · 4 months

Text

🏎️ ๋࣭ ⭑ peaches

🏁 Pairings : Lando Norris X fem! Reader

🏁 Warnings : none! just fluffy times

🏁 Word Count : 4.0k words (4070 words)

🏁 Author's note : This is probably the most chaotic thing i have ever written, so I hope you can make sense of it (hope being the key word) Make sure to lilke and reblog (anything is appreciated, but comments and reblogs fuel this sad little writer). The word dividers this time are also from @plum98!

🏁 Music player : This will be by Natalie Cole

“God he’s hopeless.” Oscar observed his entranced teammate stumble over his words from beneath the shade of the umbrella set up to the side of the filming area. Having finished his own media duties, he was now watching, unimpressed, as his friend attempted to use his remaining two braincells to blubber at you, like a fish out of water.

To be fair, you were also blubbering, your cheeks were red and hands shaking as you sorted through the white, glossy cue cards that had the signature McLaren logo printed on the back. You shuffled the cards mindlessly, humming under your breath after the third question was answered and Lando had maintained eye-contact with you for a minute too long, staring into the depths of your irises when the last syllable had left his lips causing your heart to stutter at a pace that had to be confirmed as medically concerning.

“U-um, right, okay so.” You attempted for the sixth time, your fingers finally finding purchase on a new piece of cardstock that contained the fourth question printed on one side in large, sans-serif font.

“Ehm-“ You cleared your throat, flipping a piece of hair over your shoulder as you looked back up at the driver who sat in front of you, enthralled by the minute movements you made. Like the arch of your brow, the dip of your lip and the curve of your collarbone that lay exposed, thanks to the strapless, silk corset you had opted to wear.

“Right, the fans want to know Lando. Who’s your favourite thing to eat?” You said with. Pseudo-confidence, oblivious to your mistake.

Lando’s eyes widened as a few chuckles bristled around the small crowd of camera technicians and other personnel that filled the McLaren media pen “Excuse me?”

“Huh-“ You blink a few times, “Oh shit- no.” You begin to wave your hands in front of your burning face, “I meant, what. What is your favourite snack, or meal to eat before a race?” You blurt out the correction.

“Oh- oh thank God. I don’t think I would have been able to say that.” Lando chuckles, despite the rogue blush that had spread from his neck to his ears, “Normally, I like to have snickers?” He offers, “Especially before a race, it’s a tradition. My dad used to buy them for me, during my karting days” Lando smiles at you, bracing his elbows on the arm rests of his seat whilst tilting his head boyishly.

You go silent for a few minutes, staring at him as your mouth opens and closes uselessly, your mind was fuzzy, and you could swear that you could hear the blood rushing past your ears.

With a heart beating wildly you plaster on a dazzling smile, “Watch the stock prices shoot up.” You joke, focusing on his shirt instead of his face, to protect yourself from his irresistible gaze, “Well Lando, I wish you the best for the race, here in Singapore later in the week.” You lift your eyes from the very interesting speck of dust on the front of his McLaren jersey to meet his hazel eyes, “On behalf of the entire Sky sports team, of course, not just me, that would be weird-“

He cocks his head at your rambling, huffing out an amused laugh, “Thank you,” he returns, as if your well-wishes were probably the only thing that made him want to participate in the race.

But that’s ridiculous, right?

The media segment had finally ended, having collected enough material for the next week in Singapore and you were thankful for it.

The few hours that you had been interacting with the driving duo was excruciating, not only from the sweltering afternoon that you found yourselves in, but also the fact that Lando was always in your line of sight, laughing at something that Oscar had said or screeching hysterically over the periscope goggles that he was struggling with. He was always there.

Some may say that it was “your job” but frankly you found it insulting. Because he wouldn’t let you do your job, you were either blushing too hard, sweating too much or your heart was about to end your existence with its erratic beating.

“I’m just glad it’s over” You pout to May, your producer. She was sweet and imaginative, always carrying around a leatherbound, flowery notepad to scribble new and creative ideas for interview styles to attempt with the 5-year-old men that you were tasked with interacting with.

“It wasn’t that bad” She comforted you, handing over a chilled water bottle whilst an on-set assistant dabbed at your forehead with a damp towel, “I honestly thought that you were having a heart attack, couldn’t even tell that you liked him.”

“She’s right y’know” A third voice burst into the conversation suddenly, which caused you to jump and clamp your hand down on the half open water bottle, sending the cool jet of water straight up the man’s nose.

“Oscar!” May shouted, holding a hand over her daisy detailed blouse with shock as she signalled to another assistant to grab a towel for the driver, who was currently holding his nostrils and attempting to plunge out the of water that had lodged itself up his nose.

“I’m fine,” He snorted whilst dripping onto the sizzling concrete and dabbing the cloth on his face, “For the record, I was worried for your health halfway through that painting task. But that was before I noticed you drooling over Lando.”

You groaned, running both hands up your face to your hairline before threading your fingers through your scalp and pressing the strands away from your forehead, “It’s not fair,” you whined, “He was distracting me throughout the whole thing. I probably look like a mess on camera,” You press the pads of your fingers against your temples.

The whole ordeal made you want to cry, or vomit perhaps both? It was hellish having to endure him staring into your soul the entire interview segment and endearingly answer all your questions with unnecessary detail.

What a jerk.

“Nah, you looked good.” A fourth voice popped in. And much like Oscar’s intrusion, it made you jump, but instead of squeezing your bottle and waterboarding the person, you shrieked and swung, as hard as you could towards the source. Making impact with the side of their face.

A very familiar face which had whipped around like a grape on a toothpick. A face that emitted a groan whilst a hand came up to soothe the quickly forming bruise.

“Fuck me” You groaned, bending over to help Lando who was still checking for any blood that may be leaking from the side of his face.

“Well, I would be honoured, but I think you did permanent damage,” He joked, standing to his full height whilst you brought your hand up to tap the purple-ish skin with a light, albeit panicked hand.

“Oh Lando,” you hissed when he clenched his teeth as you pressed against his cheek, “I’m so sorry.” You whispered on instinct, continuing to stroke the skin whilst May came up to the two of you, having recovered from the shock of you assaulting Lando and rushed to procure a bruising ointment.

You turned around quickly, thanking your friend as she handed of the white tube into your palm, not noticing that half of your hair had slapped the man in front of you in the face, “Oh come on,” you heard him garble through the clumps of hair that had made its way into his mouth.

“Shit, sorry,” You apologise for the umpteenth time in the few hours that you had spent in the close vicinity of him, “I can’t get it together for some reason.” You offer the dull explanation whilst stepping closer with a thick strip of the ointment spread between your fingers.

“Yeah” He murmured, eyes more focussed on your concentrated expression that was barely millimetres away from him, “I can tell.” His breath tickled your ear as you stood on your tiptoes and rubbed the ointment onto his face, it made you blush and realise how close your faces were. How easily you could turn your neck and graze your lips against his, or bump your noses together like a sweet, long-term couple who were used to your clumsiness.

Fat chance

You stepped back, taking one of the discarded towels from the table to the left of the pair of you, “I’m so sorry again,” you apologised, wiping away the remaining cream from your hand and moved to pick up your purse from the surface next to you.

“You could make it up to me?” He offered, shoving his hands into his pockets and rocking on the balls of his feet.

You cock your head, removing the hand that was rooting around in your purse- searching for your phone and let it hand limp “How?”

“What are you doing today?”

“Nothing much,” you offered, shrugging, “Not my first time in Singapore, I’ve been working with F1 for a year. Just wanted to hit some stores that I didn’t get to last time.”

It was true, last year was your first year and like the dedicated rookie you were, you holed yourself up in your room doing pre-liminary research for the upcoming days on all things related to the Singapore track along with the prestigious millionaire drivers that came attached. This was despite the long list of high-end stores, cute cafes and boutiques that you had made in your apartment back home, before the season began.

Luckily, you had managed to hit one or two of them up before the next race. But there were many remaining which you were desperate to visit.

“Let me take you out then,” His eyes glittered with enthusiasm as he unpocketed one of his hands and reached towards yours, brushing against your soft knuckles and running down the divots of your hand before dropping to his side, “Anywhere you want.” He promised.

“I have a long list Lando, and you have a race, or have you forgotten?” You tease him despite your barely inflated lungs and dry, anticipatory throat.

“Haven’t forgotten,” He argues, “I don’t have to-“ His breathe hitched as he watched you reach out to intertwine your fingers with his, gently as if your movements were a fleeting butterfly and could easily be lost as such, “Don’t have to be training the whole day- just give me your number and text me the places you want to go?”

“Okay,” You settled, keeping your pinkie fingers locked together as you stepped impossibly closer to him and handed him your card, a small glossy cardstock with the sky sports logo printed on one side whilst on the other had your name, number and “Formula 1 presenter and interviewer” centre-aligned in black font.

“Cute,” He flipped the card over in his free hand before looking up from the paper and into your eyes, bouncing his pupils over your entire face as though he was memorising each feature up close and personal, “I’ll see you later.”

You nod, biting your lip as your stand on your toes again and press your glossy lips against the scruff of his cheek, “I hope so.”

You had handed off your contact details to Lando on Tuesday. Throughout the passing days, you both had texted each other constantly, any free treasured minutes in your schedule would be spent chatting with the other. It was now Thursday and still he had not brought up the date.

The “not-date”

Thankfully, you had managed to check off nearly half of your destinations on your list and the bags in your hotel room were evidence of such. Odd, thick shopping bags that were brightly coloured and bent in ways that could merely hint at their high-fashion origins, had taken over the bedroom, slowly pilling up by the dozen.

You stumbled out of the sleek, metallic elevator and winced with each step you took through the 20th floor foyer and down the corridor, each light-wood slab of the miscellaneous rooms had been allotted a cluster of numbers that morphed together in your tired eyes. It had been nearly four hours of running around, collecting information and small video snippets from all the teams as the entire PR team was rushing to put out the last round of pre-race content.

Your stiletto heels clicked to a stop when you finally reached your door, the electronic card reader waiting patiently for you to tap the key on its matte black surface. You rooted around in your purse, holding it open with one hand as you searched for the damn card, fearing that you may need to bother the sweet receptionist for another duplicate key.

Whilst looking around in your seemingly endless bag, your phone vibrated once...twice...thrice.

You unsheathed the device and clicked on the notification that popped up on your lock screen. Lando. He had left a small string of messages that made your heart flutter as though cupid had just struck you.

You looked pretty today.

Not that I was stalking you- I saw you when you came to garage.

I’m free for the rest of the day, can I take you out?

On a date. If you want.

You smiled to yourself, reading the messages repeatedly, imprinting them in your mind as you felt your blood swim through your arteries and blossom a deep red blush across your cheeks.

“Is it possible for someone to be this beautiful?” A familiar British accent sneaked up behind you, caressing the skin behind your ears as a minty fresh breath followed suit.

“I don’t know, maybe you should ask yourself.” You teased, turning on your heel to rest your back against the door, to face the handsome man that was currently grinning down at you. You clutched your phone to your chest, soothing the fluttering butterflies that escaped your stomach to scuttle throughout your body, suddenly, you weren’t very tired anymore.

“I would rather ask you,” He smirked, reaching to tuck away a rogue piece of hair that had escaped from your ponytail, his finger lingered on your nape, allowing his entire hand to cup the back of your neck and ghost the pads of his fingers across the expanse of your skin.

“Hi Lando,” You smile at him, leaning into his touch.

“Hey.” He whispered, more focused on analysing the tantalising swoop of your eyelashes and sleek slant of your nose. As one does.

“You ready to go?” he tilted his head at you.

“Well, I have an idea about where I want to go with you, I just need to change and re-do my makeup.”

“Okay, you want me to wait out here?” He offered, watching you as you brought your purse between your bodies, flitting through the mess within to finally, triumphantly present the room key. He giggled at the victorious squeal that escaped your lips as you brushed the card against the reader and skipped into the room.

“No, it’s fine. You can come in, just don’t judge the amount of shopping.” You warned him, already cautiously stepping over the French boutique bags that greeted you.

“It would be hard to fit my judgement into the room, there’s so much stuff,” He commented beginning to pick up various bags and place them onto any free surface as an attempt to clear the walkway.

“Ha Ha,” You laughed sarcastically, twisting your neck to stick your tongue out at him, “Let me find something to wear,” You bent down, searching through the few bags that sat on the bay window sofa.

“Do you have the directions to the place?” Lando inquired, watching you with interest as you held a small, teal bag over your head and went over to the other side of the room to search for shoes.

“Yeah, it’s a frozen yoghurt cafe, 0 sugar and vegan, I figured it will be good for you. Since you’re on a strict diet.” You shrugged, unaware of his touched expression. He was enamoured with you from the first time that you had sat down in front of him, stuttering over your questions despite your once cool, calm demeanour with his teammate. But the fact that you had considered his diet requirements was like the cherry on top.

“Oh- you didn’t have to. I could always break away from the diet.” He half expected you to jump at the opportunity to go someplace else.

“No no, it’s fine. I heard such great things about this cafe. I’m excited. Plus, I would’ve gone with or without you,” You snickered, walking towards his place, perched on the edge of your freshly made bed. Apparently, room service had conveniently avoided your shopping but had happily tackled the other features of the area.

“If you say so,” He relented bundling the soft comforter in his fists to stop himself from looping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. Luckily, you rested your arms on his shoulders and intertwined your fingers together at the start of his spine, burying them in his hair and twisting the curly strands with one digit.

“I do say so,” You nodded your head sharply, before retracting your arms and began to walk towards the bathroom, “Be right back,” you promised, slinking through the washroom door.

You pushed the sliding slab shut and flicked on the warm yellow light before pulling out the compact package of tissue paper, held together with a white, cream silk bow.

The paper crinkled loudly as you undid the ribbon to reveal the milky white dress that lay nestled within the packaging. A long, floor length number that contained embroidered butterflies on the final organza layer, layered on top of a chiffon slip with a middle veneer of muslin. The empress waist had folded over fabric that sinched in the silhouette along with emphasising the carmen neckline that sat sultry with the help of thin, pearly straps.

You slipped on the elegant dress, smoothing over the divoted attire whilst pulling and pushing at the material until you were satisfied. Your hair flowed freely along your back as you leaned forward towards the mirror, touching up your concealer and swiping generous amounts of your glossy, lip balm before slipping on a pair of black, matte kitten heels.

Finally, you were ready.

The door squeaked open as you stepped out, short heels clicking on the marble floor as you stopped around the bend of the wall, calling out for him, “Lando?”

He turns towards your voice curiously, floppy brown hair bouncing with his movements, “Yeah?” He answers, standing up and pocketing his phone.

“I’m ready,” You reveal yourself to his gaze, smiling happily when his mouth pops open and eyes widen substantially.

“Wow, you look amazing.” His eyebrows furrow as he takes in your outfit, biting his lip whilst walking towards you, “Glad I asked you out when I did, otherwise I would be in trouble.”

“Yes, you are quite lucky,” You agree, patting his chest as you adjust the collar of his shirt, “Let’s go?” You offer, hooking your arm with his by the elbow.

He looks down momentarily before smiling toothily, “Let’s” He nods and opens the door.

Lando held the large cup of frozen yogurt in his palm, itching to dig the small plastic spoon into the tall peak of cold, white cream that was covered in melted dark chocolate, “You got the photo?”

“Yes, sorry,“ You tuck your phone back into the inefficiently small purse that hung from your shoulder, “You taste it first, I feel like you’ll burst if you don’t” you chuckle at his expression as he fills the spoon with the cold dessert and places it in his mouth, he groans pleasurably as his eyes roll back.

“Holy shit that’s good.” He compliments, holding out the paper cup to you.

“I would hope so, looks like you just orgasmed,” You take your own plastic spoon and taste the treat, “Never mind, your reaction is valid, it’s so good.” You hum.

“I know right?” He continues to eat, keeping his right hand steady as he shuffles around you from your left to the other side, so that his free hand could intertwine with yours.

“I could’ve just moved?” You giggle, swinging your hands up and down as you lean to take another bite.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.” He shrugged, licking his spoon free of the remaining frozen yogurt as you continued down the street and across the street towards Pearl Hill Park.

You both continued to chat animatedly, taking bites of the sweet yogurt between the two of you as you enter the park and walk down the foot path, admiring the large canopying trees and delicate flower’s that littered the shrubbery which lined the walkway.

“You’ve never had a boyfriend?” Lando clarifies, his eyes bugging out with shock.

“I mean, guys have liked me, and I’ve had crushes. But boyfriend? Never had anyone that serious,” You confirm, unbothered with his reaction.

“How?”

“I don’t know! I never asked and I never have got asked,” You defend your single status.

Lando nods, squeezing your hand in his as he kicks a small pebble beneath his feet, “But you’re so beautiful.” He murmurs penultimately beneath his breath.

“What?”

“What?” He looks at you, surprised that you heard him.

“Nothing,” You dismiss, your chest warming with the compliment, the sensation made you giggle to yourself and press your lips together.

The skin of your lips seemed dry against one another, causing you to stop walking, pausing the lazy travel around the man-made lake that you both were taking and remove a tube of flavoured lip balm from your purse. Lando pauses, watching you press the tube of the glossy moisturiser and lay a generous amount on your lips before twisting the top back on and dropping it back in your bag.

“What flavour is that? It’s so bright.” He snorts at the light pink coating that covers your mouth.

“Oh, is it too much?” You go to remove your compact mirror before you feel Lando hold your wrists gently, stopping you.

“No, you look perfect,” He assures you, softly laying his thumb beneath the swell of your lip and pulling the skin down slowly, “I was just curious of the flavour.” He muses, supressing a grin at your dazed expression as you fight away the feeling of your eyelashes fluttering closed in anticipation for his lips on yours.

“Um..I think it’s peach?” You offer.

“Really?” He snorts, moving his face closer to yours, analysing your face for inhibitions towards his actions, only to be met with your rouge ears and innocent doe eyes looking at him, “Let me try,” He whispers, finally bringing his face closer to yours, allowing his breath to fan over your slightly parted lips. You finally connect your mouth together, one of your hands loops around his neck whilst the other hold his wrist as you savour the sweet taste of his lips against yours.

It was as though the blossoms that surrounded the two of you had begun to bloom within your mind, bursting with new life and innocence as the water rippled in the summer sun, casting glowing streaks against your faces like crystalline diamonds shimmering beneath a spotlight. This moment seemed to paint itself on the canvas of your mind, permanently memorised to never be forgotten.

Lando pulls away all too soon, resting his forehead against yours, “I can agree-“ He pants, “That it tastes like peach” he pulls away minutely to grin at you.

You grin back, licking your lips slowly, “Yeah, I guess it does.” You agree, pressing your mouths together again, desperate for the sacred dopamine that he filled you with. He smiled against your lips before you became conscience of your surrounds and broke apart. His eyebrows furrowed but nevertheless he caressed your cheek, enjoying the feeling of your soft skin beneath his finger.

Lando stepped back, taking your hand in his again to resume the slow, lazy steps around the lake, “You’ll watch that race then? From the garage?” He asked hopefully, looking down at you from your position on his shoulder.

“Peach?” He called out.

Your heart grew three times bigger at the nickname as you lifted your head from his body and looked at him earnestly, “Of course, I’ll be there in the orange.”

📻 Kcccchh.... come in.... come in...translatiion unavailable...over

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55sturn · 3 months

Text

✮ OH, BABYDOLL.

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis: in which a night of drunken celebration between matt and his best friend turns into something more, something they both yearned for.

warnings: swearing, alcoholic consumption, making out, use of y/n, slightly suggestive (?) touching, pet name [doll], drunk confessions.

THIRD PERSON POV

everyone has someone in their life that they’ll never really get over, whether it be an ex friend, or an ex lover, there’s always going to be lingering feelings for that person. for matt, it was his best friend.

at first he figured that he was only attracted to her physically and sexually because he was pent up. so the day he noticed that he kept checking her out, he sent a text to an ex hookup and got the job done. but the next day, he was backing to wanting her in such an animalistic and carnal way that it was hard to be around without all the blood rushing from his head to somewhere else.

but the longer his attraction went on, the more confused he ended up. he searched for her in every room, after every joke he told in hopes that he’d find her laughing. he began immediately seeking her the moment he’d step into the house after a rough day.

he realized it became something more when he found himself driving to her apartment complex without prior announcement the moment he received good news about his yesterday’s problem project.

he realized it became something more when he crafted journals for his own personal brand based off the journal she carried with her everywhere.

and he realized that he’s never really wanted anyone the way he’s wanted her, and once that was revealed to him, he tried to move on. he dated girls far and few in between, and none of them never really ignited the flame that lay dormant in the pit of his stomach the way y/n did. other girls never stirred up the butterflies that lay peaceful in his chest every time he was away from her.

he realized that he was fucked. he loved you and there no changing that.

so when he began noticing that she seemed so different after starting her new assistant job, he begged her to quit. it changed her into a dull shell of the lively, bright, and happy person she was. he really believed that it had caused her to lose that sparkle in her personality that made her everything he loved, and honestly he loved her regardless, he just missed her bubbly personality. he had noticed that even her eyes seemed dull.

when you called him later in the day, muttering something along the lines of “i didn’t think the day would come but it did and i don’t have to get up at nearly five in the morning tomorrow!” he couldn’t fully make out the words because of how jumbled you become whenever you’re excited.

“doll, you’re getting all jumbled again, can you repeat that?” he hummed, the pet name you knew all too well that still managed to have the tips of your ears turning pink and hot slipping from his lips, sounding sickeningly sweet. he started calling you doll not too long after you guys met, every time he picked you up when he asked to hangout, you’d come out singing babydoll by dominic fike because it was a song you were obsessed with, but the real reason behind was the night you guys met at some party, you were wearing a cropped raglan style baby tee that read babydoll in the iconic bratz font. the sleeves and collar were bright pink, and the text matched.

he felt that calling you “babydoll” made him sound a bit too much like a boyfriend, so from then on, he coined that nickname “doll”, and it stirred up a sweet and delicate feeling in your chest but it also caused your head to fall fuzzy to the utmost dangerous thoughts about your best friend.

but honestly, you were entranced with the sentimental feeling that bloomed in your chest every time he spoke the nickname.

“i said,” you start, dragging out the “a” as you turn on to his street, “that the day where i quit my job has finally come! so i’m outside because we’re gonna go to some bar or club and celebrate. that’s why i told you to get ready earlier and order an uber.”

“holy shit i cant believe you actually did it!”

“same now get the fuck out here!” you giggled, ending the call and climbing out of your car, waiting against the driver’s door as matt stepped outside, making quick strides over to you, and pulling you into a hug as the uber he ordered came into view.

the two of you sat in a comfortable silence, not wanting to talk about too much with a stranger in the car, knowing very well it could fall on the wrong ears when another passenger climbs into that very seat.

you were beginning to question whether or not getting drunk with matt was a good idea, you had been harbouring so many things directed toward him for the last little while, and you were about to combust. you knew that if you had even the tiniest bit of liquid courage in you, your deepest secrets would come tumbling out like word vomit.

as if matt could sense your worry, he placed a hand on your thigh, squeezing the soft flesh as if to say “you’re okay.” and in all honesty, you were both convinced you each had a sixth sense when it came to one another, you could easily read matt and figure out what he was feeling or thinking after a split second of looking at him, and vice versa. your internal spiral was cut short as yours and matt’s favourite club came into view.

you both quickly thanked your uber, giving him a perfect rating before making your way into the club.

“what are we drinking first, doll?” matt hums, however his words fell on vacant ears, you couldn’t stop yourself from zoning out on the way he looked tonight, his shoulders look broad and defined beneath the dark muscle tee he wore, and the pants he paired his shirt with were your favourite pair of anything he owned. they were his black carhartt carpenter pants, paired with his notorious key ring attached to the belt loop, and his white airforces. matt noticed the way you were watching him, and he couldn’t help but feel a surge of confidence flow through his veins.

“huh?” you sputter, finally meeting his eyes with your face turning a deep pink, but you were glad the strobe lights in the club were red.

“what are we drinking first?”

“i need a shot of tequila and a vodka redbull.”

“make that two shots, a vodka redbull for her, and i’ll just have a jack and coke.” matt calls to the bartender, having to raise his voice over the loud music and chatter surrounding the bar. once again, as you wait for your drinks, you finding yourself falling into deep concentration, unable to tear your eyes from matt as he leans against the bar. matt turns to hand you your shot, only to find you roughly feeding half of your bottom lip between your teeth, your stare vacant but determined.

“doll, you’re gonna split your lip, stop doing that.” he murmurs, loud enough for only you to hear as he presses his thumb against your lip, pulling it from your teeth, slowly becoming hypnotized by the way it recoils back into its natural pout.

“sorry, the realization of everything is settling in you know?”

“that’s why we’re gonna take our shots, chug our drinks, order more shots, and then dance.”

“matthew sturniolo? offering to dance before anyone else? did i trip and fall into an alternate universe?”

“shut up.” he laughs, downing his shot after clinking his glass against yours, and once again you’re entranced by him, watching the way his adam’s apple bobs slowly as he swallows, finding it incredibly attractive how he hardly makes a face after the shot is gone. before he can meet your stare, you down your shot, followed by your drink, getting rid of both quite quickly, and ordering two more shots for you and matt.

about an hour passes, and you’re both quite tipsy as you dance and scream along to the music, laughing at the moves you both pull out, not caring if anyone sees or judges. but you’re about to tap matt on the shoulder to tell him you’re going to order another, when babydoll comes on. you’re shocked to say the least, it’s not really a clubbing song but you’re thanking whatever being above compelled the dj to play it. matt watches you dance along to your favourite song with a dazed grin, his eyes beginning to become hooded as the alcohol takes over his body.

as you’re singing along, you make eye contact with him and it feels as id the entire world stops, like time was standing still as you slowly gravitate toward him. you’re watching him with through rose coloured glasses as his hands fall to your hips, pulling you flush against him with your hands on his shoulders, and rocking your bodies back and forth. the heat emanating from his palms against your hips and lower back makes your head spin in the best way as you lean in close, your lips ghosting over his as you mumble the words,

“oh babydoll, i cant move on.”

the words almost act as if they’re an unspoken confession, because matt’s nodding along to your words, understanding the underlying meaning behind them. and matt humming the next line, his lips pressing just the slightest bit more against yours, and you’re understanding everything he’s implying.

what started out as an innocent celebration between you two, has now become a flustered mess, your lips are so close, and yet neither of you are ready to cross that line as the next song begins playing, and it’s a raunchy and filthy song, making the moment all the more erotic.

“i need to kiss you, matt.” you whisper against his lips, the torture of having them so close yet so far was causing your head to spin, and you couldn’t wait anymore. and as if to tease you more, matt’s tongue darts between his lips, wetting them, the tip of it brushing ever so slightly against yours. and he couldn’t help smirk as your eyes flutter shut at the smallest amount of contact. and all your self will goes out the window as you hook your fingers around his silver chain, tugging his lips completely against yours, your mouths moving in sync as you reach the moment you’ve been craving since you met matt.

the kiss is sloppy, warm, and extremely hot. it was a mess of clashing teeth, spit swapping, and tangled tongues. matt’s the first to pull away, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth ever so gently, loving the way it bounces back. he loves everything about your lips, the fullness, the shape, and god their shade of pink drives him crazy.

“you don’t know how long i’ve wanted that, doll.” his whispers, his voice think with want and fulfillment as he stares down at you, his left hand moving from your hip to your jaw, his thumb resting against your lip as you smile at him.

“i think i have an idea because i’ve wanted it just as long, matty.”

the two of you don’t break too far apart for the rest of the night, allowing yourselves to sit comfortably in the purgatory of staying the same or indulging in something more that you’ve turned your friendship into. you’re sure to regret letting yourself give so easily into wrecking your friendship with him in the morning, but right now, you couldn’t be bothered, especially not after finally kissing him because right now, all you want to do is keep kissing him. the way his lips fit against yours has almost become addictive, loving the way his lips taste slightly like your lip glass with remnants of coke and rum.

you weren’t sure how you were going to navigate the new change, but what did know was that you were going to be utterly fucked when you wake up tomorrow and remember that you made out with matt.

taglist: @dylsdunbar @verosivy @florcult @flynnriderishot @33sturniolo @sugrhigh @rootbeerworshiper @soursturniolo @spencerstits @meanttomeet @bluesturniolo333 @graciereid @abbie13sworld @ghostofbrock @l9vesick @mylifeisevenstranger @bethsturn @ifilwtmfc @themattgirl @lovingmattysposts @lacysturniolo @freshloveee @fawnchives @cindylcuwho @freshloveforthefit @freshsturns @forevergirlposts @sturniolo-fav-matt @cupidsword @lustfulslxt @sturnifyed @teapartyprincess4two @mangosrar @querenciasturniolo @pinklittleflower @ellie-luvsfics @strniolo @junnniiieee07 @hearts4chris @evie-sturns @nicksmainbitch @gnxosblog @sturniolopepsi @wronqness99 @sturniolossss @hesvoid3434 @mattsfavwh3re @inlovewithmattstur @melanch0lybby

#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo oneshots #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo oneshots

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holylulusworld · 5 months

Text

Dinner for three

Summary: You and your husband eat together to celebrate something special

Pairing: AU!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, pregnant reader

Catch up here: Dinner for two

Dinner for … masterlist

“The usual?” The hostess chuckles at the insider joke. “Your table is ready, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.” She guides you toward your table. “I hope you’ll like our new menu. We have a few new desserts.”

“New desserts,” you hum. “Maybe I’ll try something new tonight. What do you recommend?”

Bucky chuckles next to you. He knows you’ve got a sweet tooth when it comes to desserts.

“Oh, I’d recommend the new tiramisu with cherries. Not everyone likes it, but it tastes like heaven. It’s alcohol-free too if you do not like your tiramisu with alcohol.”

Bucky pulls the chair for you, still smiling as you keep on talking to the hostess. He pecks your cheek and whispers something only you can hear.

“I love cherries,” you exclaim. “And it’s a plus that the dessert is alcohol-free. I do not like alcohol in a dessert.”

“We already decided on the dessert then,” he says and sits down to have a look at the menu. “What about the main course, doll? Salmon maybe or lasagna?”

You grin. “The usual please, Clarice,” you say before Bucky gets the chance to decide on what to eat. I’ll take the chicken parmesan and my husband will take the usual.”

“You know me so well,” he grins and closes the menu. Bucky gently grabs your hand to bring it to his lips. “It’s been five years since we first met here. I can’t believe I met the love of my life by chance at my favorite restaurant after I got stood up.”

“Mr. Barnes are you trying to seduce me with your charm and pretty smile,” you chuckle. “You know we are already married, right?”

“This doesn’t mean that I’ll stop complimenting you, Y/N,” he flashes you a smile. “I got a surprise for you too, baby doll. I want to celebrate our anniversary.”

“I want to celebrate something too, baby. It’s a surprise,” you return his smile and bat your eyelashes. “I think this is the perfect moment. But let’s eat first. I’m starving.”

“What? No…you can’t just do things like that and leave me hanging, Y/N,” he pouts, making your resolve crumble. “Please tell me.” Bucky is giddy like a child when you refuse to tell him about the surprise.

You will take your time and wait for the perfect moment. For now, you are damn hungry and want to enjoy dinner with the man you love.

“…and then you just sat down and had dinner with me and my bear,” you giggle at the memory. “If you think about it, I should’ve thanked my unfaithful ex for cheating on me. If he wasn’t such a horrid person, we’d never met.”

“I’ll send him a gift hamper,” Bucky smirks and dips his head to watch you get something out of your bag, “but instead of confect or wine, he’ll get a turd, so he knows he’s a piece of shit.” He whispers the last part.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” You raise your index finger. “You won’t poop into a gift hamper. That’s not…” You struggle not to laugh. “We should stop talking about my ex. I have a surprise I wanted to share with you.”

“Before dessert?” He asks.

You open your hand to reveal a business card with his name on it. Bucky cocks a brow when you place the card on the table and shove it toward him. “What’s this?”

“I made your new business cards,” you casually say. “Why don’t you read it? I chose a nice font, and the paper is eco-friendly. Maybe you should read your new title first.”

“New font, huh?” Bucky wonders aloud as he looks at the business card. “Hmm…James Buchanan Barnes, best soon-to-be dad in the world.” He swallows audibly. “Is this real?”

“I got to know this morning,” You get a tiny shirt saying Daddy luvs me out. “I didn’t feel well over the last days, and I was overdue.” You lick your lips. Bucky and you talked about having children, but now you are a little nervous. “I was seeing my gynecologist and they confirmed that I’m five weeks pregnant.”

“I-“ he looks at the tiny shirt. “Really?” Bucky hiccups. “You are not joking?” He jumps up, knocking his chair over to pounce on you. Bucky wraps you in his arms and whispers your name.

“Buck, are you happy? I know this is sudden and—” Bucky cups your face and presses his lips.

“More than happy, baby doll,” he smiles, and tears are in his eyes. “I guess this means we are having dinner for three soon.”

“We already have dinner for three, baby. They are with us, and enjoyed every bite,” he laughs and kisses you again.

“Dinner for three,” he whispers. “I can’t wait to tell them our story…”

Part 4

Tags in reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #Dinner for three #au!bucky barnes x reader #pregnant reader

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carriesthewind · 1 year

Text

Good evening everyone! As I said in an answer to a previous ask, there wasn't a public call-in line to listen to the Show Cause Hearing in Mata v Avianca (the ChatGBT lawyer case) today.

However, while we are waiting for a transcript of the hearing (because there was a court reporter! yay!) and a written decision by the judge, we did get this absolutely anxiety-inducing live tweet of the hearing:

(Caveat: this thread was not an official transcript of the hearing and should not be taken as such. It is possible the actual events and statements made in the hearing differ significantly from this report - i.e., take this with a grain of salt and reserve final judgement for the actual transcript.)

I'll put the full thread with some (light) commentary below the cut.* But the overall impression I am left with is that the judge seems to feel this pair of attorneys are treating their duty of candor toward the tribunal with the same seriousness with which they are treating their duty of competence to their clients. (And in this case, that's a very bad thing.)

*The full thread except for a soon-to-follow part 2 because I ran out of space for images again.

(All of the following screenshots are from the above tweet thread by Inner City Press @ innercitypress on twitter, made on June 8, 2023.)

Normally I would overlook that "you, personally," but in this case, you really get the feeling that the judge is concerned that LoDuca might just start talking about what Schwartz did again.

Establishing LoDuca's base of knowledge - he should know how to look up cases and check if they are real; he should know what a real case looks like.

The March 1 submission was the plaintiff's opposition to the motion to dismiss, where they first cited the fake cases.

How bad this answer is depends, I think, on LoDuca's wording here. Best case scenario, his statement about Schwartz was a specific statement about what inquiry was reasonable for him to do under the circumstances (which - for that first filing - I think is actually a reasonable argument. You don't expect your colleague to just make up cases). Worst case, this reads like him trying to wiggle out of his obligations. I will withhold judgement until I see the official transcript.

Rule 11, by the way, refers to Rule 11 of the Federal Rules of Civil Procedure. Rule 11(b) states:

(If you remember the Order to Show Cause, we are dealing with a Rule 11(b)(2) issue here. Rule 11(c) allows the court to impose sanctions for violations of Rule 11(b))

Oh no, bad answer. (If anyone reading this is good at photoshop, I cannot express how badly I want a version of the "this sign can't stop me because I can't read" meme with the sign being the quote from defendant's reply where they say, "The undersigned has not been able to locate this case by caption or citation, nor any case bearing any resemblance to it.")

Oh that is not a good way of characterizing those orders. (Those were the orders, remember, where the Court said, "By April 18, 2022, Peter LoDuca, counsel of record for plaintiff, shall file an affidavit annexing copies of the following cases cited in his submission to this Court: as set forth herein. Failure to comply will result in dismissal of the action pursuant to Rule 41 (b), Fed. R. Civ. P.")

I would simply perish on the spot.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention in my original attempted summary of "Varghese" - the first paragraph states that it is a wrongful death suit by the widow of the passenger. Then the second paragraph states that the passenger was denied boarding on a flight due to overbooking and thus missed his connecting flight and therefore incurred additional expenses. The case was such nonsense that I legitimately forgot about that inconsistency by the time I got to the end.

Your honor I plead "2 stupid 2 sanction."

(I believe the "different fonts" is in reference to the April 25 affidavit, in which the case names - and some of the surrounding text - are in a different font from most of the text in the affidavit. It seems like this is because they may have been copied straight from ChatGPT. See e.g., #3 below. It's hard to tell just based on this twitter thread, though.)

A short and simple answer! You did it!

"I have all the answers I need" is not a good sentence in this context.

Very genuinely: shorter is better here. At least I don't think he hurt himself with that statement.

Judge Castel: How do you conduct legal research?

Schwartz: I research cases.

Judge Castel: Do you read them?

Schwartz: Well, I may have once upon a time, but after hearing you ask that question in this context, I have decided to retire from the practice of law forever and also possibly sink into the ground and die. Also, by answering "yes," here, I just realized that I'm either admitting that I read the cases I submitted and therefore must have known they were fake, or else I just possibly committed perjury. Oh shit oh fuck.

Oh god I'm cringing myself into a pretzel just reading this.

Hey, by the way? You can actually use google (esp. google scholar) to do legal research. (It's not a good tool and you will miss things, but it will do in a pinch.) But. Um. If you know that...why didn't you double check your cases at very least on google when you were told they seemed to be made up?

So, once again, I am going to withhold judgement until I see the actual transcript. That said, if Schwartz did say this, I would like to compare it briefly to a part of the chat transcript he provided to the court. Here is the first question asked about the Montreal Convention in the provided transcript:

"analysis"

Oh god. I can't even provide commentary on this one. I hope this is worse than the actual transcript will prove to be. I'm reading through my fingers like I'm watching a horror movie.

"Misperception" (or "misconception") doesn't work once you have evidence that should cause you to doubt - like not being able to find a case that was supposedly published in the Federal fucking Reporter.

This is overshooting "2 stupid 2 sanction" into "too stupid to function."* You either looked for "Varghese" or you didn't. If you looked for "Varghese," it is not credible that you continued to have a good faith assumption that ChatGPT couldn't lie. If you didn't look up "Varghese," you just lied to the Court under oath.

*Just to be clear: for an ordinary person, this would be a very understandable lack of knowledge issue. A lawyer has no excuse not to know this.

Judge Castel: Mr. Schwartz, I think you have the fucking audacity to try to lie to me to my face in my fucking courtroom.

Honestly at this point I'm surprised he could still talk. I think screaming, "I'm melting, I'm melting!" as he vanished into steam, leaving his crumpled suit behind, would be an appropriate response.

NO.

Oh no, oh honey.

Ok. Two options here (again, assuming he actually fucking said "They said they couldn't find them," in response to the Court asking, "When Avianca said you cited non existent cases?"):

Schwartz is once again trying to purposefully downplay what the defendant's reply brief actually said and dodge responsibility.

Schwartz honestly, truly believes that when the defendant filed a reply containing the line, "The undersigned has not been able to locate this case by caption or citation, nor any case bearing any resemblance to it," they were just asking for assistance with their legal research?!??!

I honestly don't know which is worse.

Oh no....

Oh man, I haven't gone over it here yet, but I think that "I looked up the judge" is a panicked attempt at bringing up a talking point the Professional Responsibility Lawyers raised in their memorandum of law. (Again, I'm giving this reading of his response with the caveat that it is based only on this thread, not the official transcript, which might read very differently and contain different/more info.) The Professional Responsibility attorneys noted in a footnote that two of the judges listed in the "opinion," including the "author," were actual 11th circuit judges, and the other is an actual 5th circuit judge. My read of this footnote was as an extra little detail tossed in by the Professional Responsibility attorneys to try to dress up their argument that the "opinions" had various "indicia of authenticity."

But here's the problem. If Schwartz is telling the truth - if he was reading carefully and critically enough that he bothered to look up the judge (why would you do that if you didn't think the case might be fake?!) there is no way he could have missed that the case was gibberish. Again, if this is really what he said at the hearing, he either lied in the hearing, or he must have know the "opinions" were bogus when he gave them to LoDuca to file.

"Did it cross your mind" - if the court actually said this, oh my god.

Hey, that's the point that I made in my original post(s)!

This whole thing about the "+h" to "th" with the notary date is from the recent affidavits filed on 6/6/23, you can read them about them if you want, I'll be honest, I don't really care as much about the notary stuff so I'm going to skip it for the moment.

....and I've run out of space for images again. Part II to follow shortly!

#ai bs #2 Stupid 2 Sanction

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swapmeetsimming · 2 months

Text

Nail Art Set + Freebie!

The nail art set is up for EA! Here is a direct link to the public preview on Patreon with more pictures and information! The freebie is at the bottom

Or, here is the information all here if you don't want to click:

The Set has way too much tiny clutter items. If I had half a brain, I'd have done what other people do and made clutter "groups" instead of making everything individual.

Like always, all simlish text was made with the wonderful fonts from https://franzillasims.tumblr.com/

The set features a "travel" workstation on two variations. The open version is a mini-desk, and is fully functional as one, and is base-game.

The closed version is basically a tall end table. it has six small deco slots on the top, surrounding the handle.

Both versions have 11 swatches. Make sure to have bb.useobjects enabled to access all the slots! :)

A small rolling cart. six slots on each layer. 4 swatches.

An UV curing lamp. This turns on and off, and only glows from the inside. 3 swatches.

An Arched desk lamp. This is so cool - I would have loved one when I was customizing dolls and minitures! Glows only from the bottom and slots onto the desk!

Two neon lights. The pink one is a false light, it kind of has the illusion of glowing, but just looks pretty. The blue one is an obnoxiously bright light, that illuminates everything around it. Looks best outside! ^^ The blue one is free now!

A handheld nail drill with bits, or a dremel if you are familiar with the tool. :) The drill and bits are separate items, both in 3 matching swatches.

A dust vacuum/collector - this is absolutely necessary when you a using a drill and filing nail tips. It sucks up all the harmful residue the drilling creates. 3 swatches.

Tissue/wipe dispenser. 5 swatches.

And a whole TON of clutter.....

A stand for displaying and working on nail tips.

A nail brush and clippers.

A set of cuticle tools.

A set of files and buffers.

A set of fine brushes.

A small glass for ...something.

A small container of glitter.

A magnet wand for cat-eye effects.

A tube of nail glue.

A bottle of gel polish with 20+ swatches

A bottle of Base/Topcoat/Matte Effect. Three swatches.

A set of polishes that can also slot into the workstation top.

A set of nail stickers. 5+ swatches.

A roll of metallic detail tape. 3 swatches - silver, gold, rosegold.

A little round storage wheel for rhinestones.

A toe separator.

A pair of fine tweezers for setting tiny details.

An orange cuticle stick

You can get the obnoxiously bright neon light as a freebie, right now!

It's at the bottom of the Public preview post!

#sims 4 cc #sims 4 creator #sims 4 maxis match #the sims cc #sims 4 mods #maxis match #sims 4 clutter #simblr #sims 4 free cc #ts4 simblr #ts4 custom content #ts4cc #ts4mm #ts4 maxis match #ts4ccmm #thesims4cc #the sims 4 custom content #ts4 cc #nailart

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kindaqueerngl · 6 days

Text

pjo characters as weird and dumb things me and my friends have said

Percy: what the fuck is cockblocking like I can't block ur cock on Snapchat

Will: UUUUUUUGH MY ASS HURTS- ooh look a butterfly

Leo: I CANT FIND MY PRETTY STICKER- AW FUCK- SHIT- MY VAGINA- OOAOoOoOOooAHAHHAgh

Jason: I can't actually believe I just agreed with you but hey here we are

Reyna: why the fuck am I friends with any of you hoes

Piper: should I...? too late I did it

Will: the best way to rizz someone up is by rizzing them up *turns to friend, winks horribly* hey baby girl

Rachel: one sec getting my anger out *aggressively splatters paint on canvas*

Annabeth: sometimes I'm smart. When I'm smart, I'm smart. *awkward thumbs up and grimace*

Octavian: fuck the gays they should all die ... I mean I could fuck some gays

Hazel: I'll make you tea but not in a sweet way I'll make it so hot in burns your tongue and you can't speak for a week

Frank: hey guys check me out I'm a furry on drugs *WOOOF WOOF BARK BARK BARK WOOF WOOF*

Grover: I love plants :3 specifically magic mushrooms but like

Leo: I mean I would totally fuck you but like respect man

Will: Ugh fuck my life I hate everything *coldplay starts playing* I retract the previous statement I fucking love life

Jason: UGH UR ALL SO DUMB but I'm in

Nico: if u wanna kys clap ur hands *rapidly claps hands*

Piper: *hypnotizes u with my beautiful blue orbs* come over to my house

Hazel: respectfully hope you die <3

Frank: I'm on acid what's it called when a ton of cats jump on each other a dog pile or a cat pile

Reyna: OH THANK GOD- sike I don't believe in that motherfucker hahahha

Annabeth: I'm so smart *holds up the one good test I got in school* see the teacher even gave me an 11/10 because I wrote my name in a cool font

Leo: UUUUUGGGGGHHHH IM SO HORNY- *mom walks in* oh hi mom how are you

Will: we can just... fuck. as friends though no homo.

Rachel: IF I DON'T DRAW SOMETHING IN THE NEXT FEW MINUTES I AM GOING TO MAUL SOMEONE

Octavian: you all suck and I hate you *silence* no wait come back

Someone: haha ur gay

Nico: yeah??? and ur not?? like don't knock it until you try it dick is yummy man

Hazel: someone just told me what smearing is and honestly I kinda wanna die *fix you by coldplay starts playing* LMAO WTF

Frank: you sad ass emo dog just be happy

Percy: I Am OnE wiTh ThE oCeAn AnD HopEfuLLy aLL oF ThE hOt MerPeOpLe In iT

Leo: *talking to literally nobody* hey guys!! gonna go get my top surgery! *shows up at claires*

Reyna: I only wanna die sometimes and that's normal right

RIGHT

Will: *playing guitar* haha look guys I'm fingering A minor *strums violently*

Jason: screw men *eyes widen* I should start taking my own advice ngl

Will: *listening to a playlist that Nico made him* ugh my emo ass boyfriend and his stupid music I hate him *proceeds to write his name over and over again in diary with hearts around it*

Nico: what if I strangle someone with a pair of earbuds

Will: please don't

Leo: *in demonic voice* LeAf *eats it*

Nico: *pulls gay flag out of pocket* omg it's u

Will: *shuffles around in pocket, finds condom* ... it's u, vanilla flavoured

Leo: my name's Leo

Percy: and I like jugs

Nico: I'm mentally ill

Leo: and I'm on drugs :D

Jason: is there anything better than pussy

Piper: I thought you where gay

Jason:

Jason: my boyfriend's trans?

Will: the temptation to fuck an emo boy rn is killing me

Leo: the masculine urge to

Leo:

Leo: I forgor

Will: that's good!

Nico: like me in bed

*silence*

Leo: smash or pass Ryan Gosling

Nico: SMASH

Will: PASS

Solangelo: *glares at each other*

Nico: omg stop with that song

Will: but

Will: but you can take me hot to go :(

Annabeth: yeah

Percy: yeah

Annabeth: *in funny voice* yeah

Percy *hentai moan* yEEEAAAaaH

Leo: *pointing at Nico* EEEEEEWWWW AN EMOOOOOO EWWW

Jason: never ever look up what an eyesha erotica lyric means

Reyna:

Reyna: oh you poor soul *pats back*

Nico: I can't breathe

Will: just

Will: breathe air

Nico: I breathe drugs

Piper: I'm gonna go play basketball

Leo: haha play with my balls

Jason: already do

Leo: *chokes on air*

well that's all sorry for the torture, thanks to @localcosplaymushroom, @crowwolf8, @justagremlinoncaffeine, and @secret-mewtwo for all of the funny convos that went into this

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jgracie · 12 days

Text

HOW YOU AND SINGER!LEO VALDEZ CAME TO BE ♡ for giselle ( @pinkdiorluvr ), HEAVILY inspired by dominic fike

masterlist | rules

in which you date america's (self proclaimed) favourite singer

pairing singer!leo valdez x fem!reader

warnings my lack of knowledge on how uni works sorry im only 16 i fear, matty healy reference UNFORTUNATELY iykyk (i hate that man so much guys trust)

on the radio . . . dominic fike's whole discography tbh but i made a small playlist

an listened to dominic fike and made this as a result… lmk if u want more of them 😊

You never thought you’d actually get into your dream university. Well, to be more specific, you never thought you’d get off the waitlist

When you first discovered you got waitlisted, you’d accepted your fate. Sure, you already had tons of merch and had been dreaming of your life in California for years, but not all dreams come true. You chose another school to commit to and began preparing for freshman year of university. Who gets off of waitlists anyway?

Apparently, you. As soon as you got the email confirming your spot, you thanked the heavens and immediately changed your plans, giddily packing all your merchandise and adding to your California themed Pinterest boards

Until you realised you had nowhere to live. None of your friends and family lived in California, and you really didn’t want to live in a dorm after all of the stories you’d heard about communal bathrooms (they’re my biggest fear actually). Unfortunately, it was either that or go apartment hunting and pray you could find a decent apartment that didn’t cost a fortune

Whatever, at least you got into your dream university in the end. Sharing a bathroom with a bunch of other young adults was worth it. After a few days of letting the news properly sink in, you called your childhood best friend Piper to tell her the good news

“Pipes, you won’t believe what happened!” You nearly yelled into your phone, excitedly pacing back and forth in your room. Putting her on speaker, you put your phone down and continued packing your bags

Piper hummed, pretending to think before replying with, “you finally got with a hot rockstar like you insist you will?” You huffed, rolling your eyes - she’d never stop teasing you

“No, even better!” You said, “I got into Jupiter University!”

Cue the squealing. Piper congratulated you a million times over, now pacing in her own room somewhere in Europe or Australia or wherever she was, you could never keep up with that girl’s travels

Your conversation went quiet for a second before Piper connected two very important dots, “wait… that means you’ll be moving to Cali, right?”

“Well, duh, how else am I supposed to get to class on time?” At your confirmation, Piper’s face lit up (not like you’d be able to see it)

“Oh my God, Y/N, this is perfect! I just moved back to California and my dad gave me this giant apartment all to myself, you can live with me!”

Okay, now, you were convinced some God was smiling down on you. You and Piper had toyed with the idea of living together ever since you were pre-teens, but you never thought that fantasy would ever actually come true

You moved in the following week

Living with Piper was a dream. The two of you were the same person in different fonts, so discussing boundaries and house rules was a breeze

As soon as you’d arrived, she took you to all her favourite places in California. Did this result in the two of you spending a disgustingly large amount of money? Maybe! But it was fun, so it didn’t really matter

She also promised to introduce you to all her friends, since she knew a couple people who were also starting at Jupiter University that fall. After much negotiation, you all had settled on meeting at a restaurant nearby in two weeks time, since you still needed to settle

Little did you know, you’d be meeting one of Piper’s friends earlier than the rest

Singer/songwriter Leo Valdez quickly rose in the charts after people fell in love with his unique music and his charming personality. All the hype had fueled his creativity and resulted in him releasing many albums in a very short amount of time

However, after every high comes a writer’s block, which is where Leo was at now. He wanted nothing more than to write and produce new music, but nothing seemed to inspire him - no matter how many walks he took or people he talked to, nothing good seemed to come out of him

His favourite person to mope to about his predicament was none other than Piper Mclean. He and Piper had met at some event his publicist forced him to go to a couple years ago and hit it off immediately, bonding over their dislike for how the industry worked and love of authenticity

So, after nearly breaking his guitar in frustration, Leo decided to pay Piper a surprise visit - 56th time’s the charm!

Meanwhile, you were making yourself a quick breakfast and typing up a quick grocery list. Turns out Piper had only moved back to California a couple days before you called her, so she didn’t have much to eat in her kitchen. You planned to surprise her with a variety of groceries as a little gift for her hospitality

Finishing off your list, you chose something random to watch and began eating your breakfast - well, almost

Before you could get a single bite in, someone loudly knocked on the door, disturbing your peace and causing you to nearly drop your bowl of cereal. You took a deep breath, deciding not to let this stranger ruin your day, and went to see who decided to visit Piper so early in the morning

Leo was expecting an aggravated, half-asleep Piper to open the front door, glaring at him whilst mumbling about him ruining her beauty sleep. Instead, he was met with the girl of his dreams, who looked him up and down before giving him a tentative smile

“Hello,” you said. The guy in front of you was kind of cute - brown curly hair, big brown eyes and a warm aura that radiated off of him. Something about him charmed you instantly

Fidgeting with the rings on his fingers, he said, “Uh, hi… Is Piper home?” Leo wasn’t usually shy, but you were too pretty and it was really early in the morning, he couldn’t help but lose eye contact with you

Moving to the side, you said, “yeah, she’s just asleep, but you can wait if you want.” How could he possibly turn around now?

Leo didn’t have to wait for very long, as Piper’s a very light sleeper. Hearing the conversation happening outside, she rolled out of bed, already knowing who her mystery guest is

“Leo, I see you’ve met my new roommate, Y/N,” she said, stifling a yawn as she made her way to where the two of you were sitting, “Y/N, this is my friend Leo Valdez - before you ask, yes, he’s that Leo. Please don’t feed into his massive ego.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, you didn’t know of any Leo Valdez. Biting your lip, you began recalling all your past conversations with Piper. Various names and stories came up, but no Leo

“Am I supposed to know who he is? Sorry, I can’t remember…” you said hesitantly, hoping he wasn’t that important

For a second, everyone was quiet, then Leo said, “you seriously don’t know? I’m America’s favourite singer! Have you never heard ‘Hey Blondie’ by me? Or ‘Açaí Bowl’?” At your silence and Leo’s exasperation, Piper laughed, which earned her a very nasty glare from America’s favourite singer himself

You shook your head, now feeling bad. You really didn’t want to offend this cute guy on your first meeting, “I’m sorry, but I’ve never listened to any of your music before… I’ll definitely check you out though!”

Leo was just joking with you, but even if he were upset, he couldn’t stay mad at your kind smile and determination to make it up to him. At the same time, he felt a wave of self consciousness wash over him - what if you didn’t like his music? Leo was usually pretty confident in his abilities, but he found himself needing to impress you

Luckily, you were the inspiration he needed to start writing a new album. When Leo got home, the words seemed to flow out of him in just the right way

After that day, Leo started showing up at your’s and Piper’s apartment much more often, except now it was to see you, not Piper. When she asked Leo about the increase in frequency of his visits, Leo made up some excuse about needing you to judge his songs since you were new to his music so your opinions would be less biased

However, Piper knew the truth. Leo was in love. Was that a bit of a bold statement considering he only knew you for a week? Maybe, but anyone who knew Leo knew that when he fell, he fell hard

You were charmed by Leo too. As the days progressed and summer leaves turned brown, you and Leo got closer and closer. You began going over to his apartment every once in a while, or hanging out at parks and cafes, all under the excuse of needing to help with his songs

Just like the leaves, Leo’s songs began to shift. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t help but write songs about you - you were on the forefront of his mind. Leo was enamoured by your bright eyes and kindhearted nature, it was only natural for him to begin writing songs about you

So, he embraced it. It was now nearing the one year anniversary of when the two of you met, so why not confess? If there was one thing Leo learnt from all the mistakes he made during his teen years, it was that there wasn’t much point in hiding things

However, he was Leo Valdez, the bad boy supreme himself, which meant he couldn’t just tell you outright. No, this had to be a special confession for a very special girl

Luckily, Leo was a pro at special confessions!

“Promise me you won’t listen to the album until the show, Y/N. I need you to get the authentic Valdez experience!” Leo told you over the phone. It was the night before the release of his new album and, to celebrate, Leo decided to host a quick and small show only a few minutes from where you lived - one you had front row tickets to

You thought this was a bit of a strange request but obliged, knowing how much this meant to Leo. At some point during his album-making journey, he started consulting you less. When you’d asked why, he said he wanted some of the songs on the album to be a surprise, which was fair enough, so you didn’t pry

Leo wasn’t lying: he did want some of the songs to be a surprise. Why? Well, because they were about you. Never in his life did Leo Valdez think he’d be writing love songs like the ones he wrote about you, especially after the horrible experience he had with his ex, Callie (wink wink)

When the night of the show came along, you and Piper got dressed and headed to the venue, matching VIP lanyards around your necks. You were really hoping to see Leo before the show and wish him luck, but Piper explained that Leo had his own special rituals to do before the show started so you weren’t going to see him. Oh well, you’d texted him a good luck message beforehand anyway

Leo rarely ever got nervous whenever he’d perform - he was used to it, after all. However, as he made his way onto the stage, his heart was beating the quickest and loudest it ever had. He scanned the crowds for your familiar head of hair, but unfortunately couldn’t spot you. However, he knew you were definitely out there

There’s no time better than the present. The crowd went silent as the first song started. The strumming of a guitar filled the venue, followed by a voice that wasn’t Leo’s

The song begun with a snippet of a voice message he’d received from you: “Fine, Leo, you’re so lucky I love you,” followed by a few giggles

Your eyes widened and at that moment, Leo finally saw you. As he looked into your eyes, everyone else disappeared. It was almost as if a show full of his biggest fans had turned into another afternoon spent in your room - you doing assignments while he played his guitar

“This is for you, I love you too,” he said, giving you a wink before beginning to sing

The rest of the concert was a blur. Was the album fantastic? Absolutely, it was one of the best you’d ever listened to. Unfortunately, you were too busy replaying that moment from the beginning of the show to be fully listening

You couldn’t believe Leo actually liked you back. You also couldn’t believe he liked you so much he was willing to announce it to the world - even though there were only a few people at his impromptu concert, the news would spread like wildfire

Somehow, you made it through the entire show without passing out. While everyone else proceeded to file out of the venue, you (and Piper) stayed behind. This conversation couldn’t wait a second longer than it already had

The security didn’t fight you as you made your way backstage, where Leo was busy tinkering with his instruments. Seeing him there as he hummed the tune of one of the songs he wrote just for you, you were filled to the brim with nothing but pure love

Piper stayed behind and watched as you ran to Leo, pulling him out of the trance his guitar pick had on him

“Hey,” he said, a goofy smile which matched yours making its way onto his face as you gave him what might’ve been the tightest hug he ever received. Leo breathed in the familiar scent of your shampoo and waited for you to pull away before saying, “I’m assuming you liked the show?”

Excitedly, you exclaimed, “liked it? Leo, I loved it! I’ve never seen anything like it!” While Leo was happy you enjoyed his concert, he still wasn’t satisfied. He needed you to acknowledge the opening song

The two of you stared at each other silently, waiting for the other to bring that up, both of you too nervous to say anything. Luckily, Piper wasn’t nervous

“Oh my God, guys, just say you’re in love with each other already!” She said, her voice cutting through the tension and allowing you to let go of a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You smiled at her then turned to Leo, your smile growing at the mere sight of him

Cupping his face, you said, “I love you more, Valdez.”

#leo valdez x reader #leo valdez x you #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez #leo valdez x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson x reader #leo valdez fanfic #leo valdez headcanons #cynwrites #singer leo valdez #modern au pjo #modern au hoo

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astermath · 1 year

Text

second chance ₓₒ⋆:

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve decides to ask out the girl who he keeps seeing around hawkins with her nose in a book. he’s a little surprised when he gets brutally rejected, only to find out his “king steve” era is haunting him more than he expected. he attempts to make it up to you and show you he’s changed, even if it takes him a couple of tries.

word count: 4.8K (oops)

warnings: cursing, no use of y/n, bullying, regular size font below!

notes: first time writing for steve YES I HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH HIM! YES IT IS THE FAULT OF ALL THE GOOD FIC WRITERS ON HERE! and thus,, I had to participate,, I hope I got his character down, I might write more for him so let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content!

tagging some writers who have absolutely inspired me to write this with their own incredible fics, be sure to check them out <3 @hungharrington @sunshinesteviee @ghostlyfleur @lilacletter @stevenose

As a teenager, you’d grown to hate Hawkins. It was a mundane, small town with boring people, not much to do, not to mention the weird supernatural rumors you’d hear about every other week.

But nothing was worse than your high school, Hawkins High. There was a strong social hierarchy, with you firmly placed at the bottom. You were a class A nerd, getting good grades, and always reading to distract yourself from your lack of a social life. So naturally, you got picked on a lot. At first it was just some girls in your class, laughing at your big glasses and the way you dressed. But as you got older, you’d caught the eye of so called “king Steve” and his goons.

You’d heard plenty about him by junior year; how rich his parents were, how he was the best at sports, how every girl practically dropped to their knees when he entered a room. He’d started noticing you when his friend Carol pointed you out, sitting alone on a bench outside school, waiting for your dad to pick you up. His finger had pushed your book down so he could look at your face, and you were soon met with his all too cocky grin.

“Watcha readin’, four eyes?” The ego was nearly dripping off his words, making your stomach turn.

“None of your business.” you pulled your book away, keeping a finger between the pages you were on. “Doubt it’s near your reading level anyways, Harrington.” You may have been nerdy, but you were no pushover. If they wanted to be condescending, then you’d play their game right back at them.

“That’s no way to treat your king, is it?” Tommy chimed in, like a parrot on his shoulder. You were sure that guy would be nowhere without his friend’s reputation, considering he had the personality of a wet sock.

“My king?” You repeated, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t you just leave me alone?” You tried putting your book away, but Carol had snatched it from your hands just before you could reach your bag.

“Oooh, is this your diary or somethin’?” she flipped it open, shit eating grin plastered over her face as she ran her nail over your name written on the opening page.

“Do you mind? Give it back!” you’d reached out to grab it from her, but she’d already tossed it back to Steve, who was now holding it high above his head.

“Come and get it sweetheart,” He smirked. “Might have to get real close for it though.” Tommy laughed like a hyena at his taunting, and you swore you would have punted him if they didn’t outnumber you.

You scowled, ready to just grab your bag and make a swing for it. “Over my dead body, Steve.” You spat his name, and he grinned at your response.

“Ahh, shouldn’t have said that.” He dropped the book down into the muddy puddle in front of you, stepping on it to make matters worse.

You watched, mouth slightly agape as tears welled up in your eyes. Carol cackled while you stood frozen, clutching your bag as you watched the pages soak up the filthy water under his foot. You had every reason not to like Steve, he was like every movie’s description of a high school bully. But he’d destroyed something personal of yours. So now you had every reason to hate Steve.

And the bullying never stopped there. He’d laugh when Carol put her gum in your hair, when Tommy would bump into you extra hard in the hallway, when you’d turn around every time you saw him.

So when graduation came, you couldn’t be happier to get out of there and go to college.

Except your dad got fired from his job. And so, after just a year of college, you’d abandoned your dream of majoring in English literature and returned to the sad, miserable old town you grew up in.

So you’d taken on a job in your local bookstore, hoping to make enough money to rent an apartment anywhere else soon. You spent the rest of your time reading and writing, usually outside to get some inspiration. You weren’t surprised to see a lot of familiar faces, though you’d never actually spoken to most of them. College was expensive, and a lot of people from Hawkins were just going straight into working than bothering to study. Or maybe some were in the same unfortunate position as you, tragically locked to your hometown.

You were sat outside the backside of the mall, listening to people’s conversations around you. Though you were never much of a socialite, you were very interested in the way people interacted with one another, especially if they were from completely different backgrounds than you.

Two books sat besides you, knees brought up close to your chest as your papers leaned against your legs. You messily wrote down strings of sentences and words of inspiration, a description of what you were seeing too, every now and then. You were an aspiring writer, hoping your literary skills would one day break you out of your current situation, but with the current state of the world, that’s all you could really be. Hopeful.

You were daydreaming about the life you’d build for yourself, finger running over the tip of your pen. You were so involved in your own train of thoughts, you almost hadn’t noticed the sudden new presence besides you.

“Watcha writin’, pretty girl?”

The voice sounded familiar. A little too familiar for your liking, actually. You kept your eyes on the page, hoping you conveying your disinterest was working in driving the guy away. You sighed, clicking the pen a few times. “Do you really care, or do you just wanna bother me?”

You could hear a faint chuckle, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t sound nice. Still, you were working, and you preferred not to be disturbed when you were.

“You got me there,” the guy spoke, and you could tell he’d moved a little closer, because you could now smell a sliver of his cologne. “Was never one for books, but I’ve been wanting to read more. What is this, Pride and Prejudice?” He picked up one of the books, and you turned, about to take it from when your eyes landed on his face, freezing midway when you finally realized why he sounded so familiar.

Steve motherfucking Harrington.

Same cocky smile, same brown eyes, same somehow always perfectly styled hair, and probably same asshole altogether.

You squinted slightly, not sure if you were hallucinating or not. “... Steve Harrington?” You question, and you could tell he doesn’t quite know how to react at first.

Truth be told, Steve had changed. A lot. All the things he’d gone through, the connections he’d made, the ego checks he got, it made him a new man. Or so he definitely liked to believe. But he was also painfully aware of his reputation, his old persona still haunting him sometimes. Still, he’d never seen you before, so he hoped it was a relatively positive image you had of him.

“I guess my reputation precedes me,” he smiled, and you think it’s the first time you’d ever seen him genuinely smile. Not the smile he gave you when his friends were teasing you, no, this one was much softer. “Or maybe... We’ve met before?”

And then it clicked.

Steve had no clue who you were.

Sure, you’d developed a better sense of style over the years. You no longer needed braces, you had grown into your body better, and your glasses fit your face a lot more. But you didn’t think you changed that much. Besides, your personality had remained the same. You were still the sharp tongued, book loving, nerdy girl he’d bullied back then.

It was true, he didn’t recognize you. He was almost certain you were new in town, telling his best friend Robin that if he knew you, he’d definitely recognize a face that pretty. She had no clue who he was talking about, this mysterious girl he’d seen reading and writing all over Hawkins, so she just told him to make a move. So he did.

“So uh,” He leaned his arm over the backside of the bench, facing you. “I was wondering if you’d maybe like to go out sometime. Y’know, catch a movie, go to the arcade, whatever you’d like to do for fun, uh...” he flipped the book open on the first page, reading your name aloud. And then it clicked for him too. You weren’t new here, and you most certainly knew him. He looked back up at you, already getting ready to apologize when you snatched the book from his hands and got up.

“Go fuck yourself, ‘king Steve’.” You scowled, shoving your stuff in your bag and angrily walking off.

He had to admit, that stung, hearing you use his old nickname like that, and then watching you storm off. He was starting to realize that there were more consequences to his high school endeavors than he’d initially imagined, that he couldn’t just move on and pretend that he was a new person now. He had to make things right. Starting with you, the pretty girl with the glasses.

“And-- and then, wait for it-- I look into the book, right?” Steve stands behind the counter of Family Video, hands motioning vividly as he tells his friend about what had happened the day before.

Robin nods, mumbling some kind of “uhuh” as she continues to organize the shelves.

“And it’s her! It’s four eyes!” He exclaims, looking expectantly at his colleague, hoping for a big reaction.

“I’m sorry, who?” Robin’s face contorts in confusion, turning to face him with a hand on her hip.

“Shit, uh, she was like always reading and stuff, and she had these-- these glasses, they were way too big for her face, and--”

His sentence was cut short by the jingle of the door opening, and the two of them looked to see you there, who was clearly not expecting a welcome committee. Your gaze crossed Steve’s, and for a moment he felt like you were about to kill him with just your stare. You rolled your eyes, scoffing audibly and started looking through the shelves.

Robin looked at Steve, mouthing a “is that her”, to which he nodded stealthily. She replied by smiling approvingly, as if she now understood exactly why he wanted to make things right. You were really pretty, she could definitely see that.

You damn near slammed down the tape you wanted to rent for the day on the counter, avoiding eye contact as you looked through your bag for your wallet.

“Are you already registered at Family Video or—“

“No.” You cut him off, head snapping up.

“Alright,” Steve nodded, slightly intimidated. “I’ll just need your name and phone number for the registry.”

You stared at him for a few moments, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. Did he really think you were that stupid?

“Are you fucking—“ You looked over at his colleague. “Is he fucking with me?”

Robin shook her head slowly, slightly intimidated. Though she could see why he had to work his way up to talking to you, she had to admit, it was quite funny seeing Steve actually struggle talking to a girl like this.

“We need it in case you don’t return the tape.” He gave you a thin lipped, awkward smile as he got the keyboard out to type it in.

“Fine,” You huffed, “but if I get a personal call from you, I’m changing numbers.” You started to list your phone number and complete your registration. You just wanted to watch the Breakfast Club for christ’s sakes, this was taking ages…

“That’ll be 10 dollars,” he put on a sweet, almost customer service-y smile, “please.”

“Yeah, fine, just—“ You rummaged through your bag, brows furrowing when you still couldn’t manage to find your wallet. You were certain you had it, although you did grab your stuff in a bit of a rush that morning. “I swear it’s here, it’s just under all this other stuff…”

You were about to dump the contents of your bag onto the counter when Steve held up his hand, pulling out his own wallet. “It’s fine, I got it.” He deposited 10 dollars of his own into the cash register, sliding the tape back over to you along with a receipt. “Courtesy of Steve Harrington.”

You looked down at the tape, and something in you wanted to smile. You were still getting used to this, guys doing nice things for you because you were pretty, but it was different from Steve. You were mad at him, and rightfully so. Te, measly dollars wasn’t going to cut it.

You muttered a “thanks”, stuffing the tape in your bag and waving Robin a quick goodbye before speed walking back outside. Your cheeks burned hot, and you hated to admit it, but it was a really cute gesture from Steve.

“She seems nice.” Robin said, watching Steve’s expression falter with a bit of an amused grin.

Steve leaned his face into his hands, watching you leave through the window. “The nicest.” He sighed, lowering his head to rub his hands over his face. “I’m gonna have to give that another try though.”

Robin chuckled, going back to the task at hand. “Good luck with that, casa nova.”

And so he did. He kept trying. It wasn’t just because he wanted to prove something to himself, he was genuinely intrigued by you. Even back in high school, he wondered what was going on in that head of yours when you’d daydream in class, or when you were writing during breaks. But he knew he’d never hear the end of it from Tommy if he talked to you, so he chose the easy way out. Coping by making fun of you. At least that way, he never had to prove to anyone if he liked you or not.

But it wasn’t fair, not towards you, of course. He never should have treated you that way, and this was his chance of making things right. And maybe finally finding out what was always happening in that pretty mind of yours.

You were stacking books on the shelves at your job, humming a tune to yourself. You liked your job, you always got to buy books at discounted prices and read whenever it was quiet. It was a nice step-up to what would hopefully become a real writing job one day, having your own books sold in a place like this.

“Excuse me,” a voice stirred you from your daydreaming, “I’m looking for something new to read.”

You turned, and as soon as you once again caught sight of Steve, your customer service smile faded into a scowl. “You stalking me now, Harrington?”

He put up his hands in a defensive position. “Woah, jump to conclusions much?” He chuckled nervously. “No, I uh... Robin told me you worked here. So I decided to drop by.” He followed closely behind you as you walked to the back to start stacking the shelves there.

“So what are you really doing here, besides bothering me?” You turned, a book clutched to your chest. It reminded him of how you used to walk the halls, always with a book held over your heart. It was almost poetic, now that he thought about it. He knew books were your comfort, so it only made sense you’d always keep one near.

“Like I told you,” he leaned against one of the shelves, hand slipping down just a tad which almost made him lose composure, “I’m looking for somethin’ new to read.”

You raised an eyebrow, and you had to admit, he had your attention. “You?” You scoffed, followed by an almost mocking chuckle. “Shit, I didn’t even know you could read.”

He pretended to be hurt, hand over his heart as he said your name in an offended tone. “I’m wounded! I’m trying to explore more literature and here I am getting judged!”

You couldn’t help but giggle, blood rushing to your cheeks from embarrassment. You were supposed to be mad, not humor his flirting, no matter how cute he was. “I uh... Well, I read this book not too long ago. It’s about two lovers who travel the world playing the music together, and one of them dies, so the other has to like, find their own sound...” You realized you were rambling a little, wide eyes looking up at him. “Or... Something like that.”

“Yeah! Yeah, that-- that sounds great. Cool. Totally.” He tried his best to brush off how your eyes were making him feel. So pretty, even when behind your glasses, he could tell how much emotion they held.

“Cool, cool,” now you were the one trying to play it cool, fingers fidgeting with the hardcover you were holding. “I’ll, uhm-- go check our stock really quick.”

He let you do your thing as he looked around the store, flipping through the pages of random books he found. Truth be told, Steve hadn’t read a single book ever since he stopped being forced to because of high school. Not because he hated reading, he just... Wasn’t very good at it. He’d often mouth along with the words, sentence by sentence, sometimes even whispering them to himself.

You returned not long after, strangely enough, with nothing in hand. “So, I think we ran out, but uh...” You adjusted your glasses. “I can lend you my copy.” You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling nervously. “If you want.”

Steve was quite surprised by your proposal. He knew how precious your books were to you, but giving one to him? The guy who’d stomped on your own personal property not even that long ago? Damn. Maybe you were just that nice. Which made him feel even worse for treating you like shit.

“Totally! Yeah, uhm, I’ll take good care of it. Like, seriously, I’ll protect it with my life.” He grinned, and you hated how infectious his smile was.

“Good,” you handed him your copy, and he could tell it was well loved. “I better not find any mud on this one.” He nodded at your comment, swallowing down his guilt at the memory. There was a bookmark at the front, and he could tell by the dozens of sticky tabs sticking out that you were serious about your reading. So he decided to be serious about it too.

“You can give it back whenever you’re done.” You smiled awkwardly, subtly letting him know he could read it at his own pace. “Just come drop it off when you’re ready.” He was about to thank you, when you raised a finger to interrupt him. “In the exact same condition, Harrington.” Though your gesture was sweet, he could tell you still weren’t fully on good terms with him. That was fine by him, he was glad he was making any progress at all, really.

“Yeah-- yeah, for sure, no problem.” He stood there for a few seconds, book held under his arm as his other hand busied itself running through his hair. “I’ll uh... I’ll see you around.”

You smiled at how nervous he seemed. “Yeah, totally, see you around Steve.” You gave him a quick wave and went back to stocking the shelves.

Steve heart swelled with a familiar feeling as he walked out. He knew you were pretty, gorgeous even, but seeing you smile, and say his name like that... Man, he felt like an even bigger idiot for being such a douche to you back in the day. You were being so nice, and you had absolutely no reason to. He stood outside, thinking of your sweet voice and cute glasses, and clutched the book to his chest.

Huh. That did actually feel kinda nice.

And so he walked home like that, the entire way, with a tight hold on the book. He’d rather die than let it get damaged now.

One of the first things he did when he got home was go to his room, sit down on his bed and open the book. On the first page, you had your name written, and it brought him right back to when he first saw you again. Something inside him feels superficial and shallow for only talking to you now that you look different, but all the circumstances were different too. You’d both grown, matured, he just wished you’d give him more of a chance to show it.

But in a way, he supposed this was the first step to earning your trust.

He’d spent almost the entire night reading, smiling and even chuckling at some of your annotations. He was glad there was a key at the start, so he knew which color meant what. He’d even grabbed a dictionary from downstairs because he didn’t understand some words, but was eager to learn more. Reading your comments made it feel like you were right there with him. They were funny, making him crack a grin at how outraged you could be at some of the characters’ decisions.

He imagined your face when one of your comments mentioned you’d cried, and his heart twisted at the thought. Because he knew what you looked like when you cried, thick tears running over soft cheeks, lashes wet. He’d be lying if he said you didn’t still look pretty, but man, he was now more insistent on proving he’d changed than ever. Maybe his budding crush was helping that a little too.

A little more than a week later, he’d returned to the store you worked to return the book. Frankly speaking you weren’t sure if was actually going to bring it back, let alone in the exact same condition you’d given it to him in.

“So, what did you think?” Your face beamed a sort of excitement you’d only see when your interests were being discussed, and this was definitely one of them. Besides your boss, you never really had anyone to talk to about books. Though Steve was more of an unconventional choice, you enjoyed the conversation nonetheless.

What surprised you even more was that he’d actually read it. Like really, really read it, including your annotations and comments. It warmed your heart to know he had put actual time and effort into enjoying the whole thing, and he looked pretty cute talking about it too.

“But the ending broke my heart, seriously—“

“I know, right? How could she not have forgiven him for not leaving behind the music sheets? It was clearly to help her move on!”

“Ugh, I know! Man, you get it.” He laughed softly, fingers running through his chocolate colored hair.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” You laughed along, the noise in your throat slowly dying out as you got a bit too caught up in the sight of him. Steve Harrington was a handsome young man, that was common knowledge. There was a reason all those girls were always swooning over him, and you hated to admit that you could see where they were coming from. But you didn’t like the overly cocky, flirty side of him you knew in high school. You like this side, the soft, considerate, attentive Steve you’d been getting to know a little better.

Yeah, you were growing fond of him.

Which is exactly why you’d said yes to hanging out with him at the park the day after. Just “hanging out”, in his own words. He’d been careful not to make the same mistake he did the first time he talked to you, rather easing you into spending time with him one on one. He’d hate to break your trust now that you were finally able to look at him with something other than anger in your eyes.

It was already quite late when the two of you met up. You’d been busy with work, and him with helping out Dustin, so once the two you arrived at the park, it was already dark. You didn’t mind, though. Less chance of other people bothering you.

You settled on a more secluded area, Steve had even been nice enough to bring a blanket to sit on. You were initially just going to discuss the contents of the latest book he’d borrowed from you, but you had a feeling something else was left to be said.

And he was well aware of this too.

So when you were staring up at the sky, moonlight illuminating your features in a way he’d only seen described in the books he had read, he figured he couldn’t keep talking to you without clearing the air. You deserved that much.

“You know,” he cleared his throat, “I thought about what happened a lot.”

You bring your gaze over to him, tilting your head slightly. “My my, whatever could you mean?” You said, teasingly so. He knew you wanted him to just say it. And who was he to deny you of a justified apology.

He took a deep breath, fingers running through his locks. It had become almost a nervous tic to him.

“I’m really sorry about everything I did.” He said, in the most genuine tone he could muster. “Seriously, I-- I’m just kind of... ashamed, really.”

You could tell he was struggling to look at you, and you wondered how much thought he’d given this already.

“You never really realize how stupid and insignificant high school shit seems until you get out in the real world, you know? Like-- none of it matters, none of that popularity, shit, and-- and I wish I’d just realized that sooner because now--” He caught sight of your eyes and for a second, completely lost his train of thoughts. He realized he wasn’t getting to the point, suddenly understanding Robin’s need to nervously ramble entirely.

“Point is, I’m really, really sorry for the way I treated you.” His hand inched closer to yours, itching to grab it to emphasize his point. “I’ve changed a lot, and I hope that’s become at least slightly believable.” He smiled nervously, all kinds of possible responses you could give running through his mind.

They all came to a halt when he saw you smile.

That sweet, kind smile he’d seen back in high school and avoided because of how it made him feel.

The same smile that was currently reducing him to a nervous teenage boy with a crush.

“It’s okay, Steve.” You spoke softly, and the words came as a mercy to his overbearing thoughts. Your hand moved over his, and you ran a thumb over his knuckles. His hand was soft, warm, and a little clammy from what you could only assume to be the nerves.

“I’m not gonna make you beg for my forgiveness, don’t worry.” You chuckled, and his heart damn near melted at the sound. He secretly wished they could bottle whatever feeling your laugh gave him, so he could keep it with him in times of need.

“Really?” He tilted his head, brown locks falling in different ways around his face. “Because, like-- I’ll do it. Wait--” He got up on his knees and reached besides the blanket, plucking a stray flower from the grass and kneeling in front of you. He cleared his throat in an exaggerated way, before addressing you with your name. “My dearest, will you please forgive me for being a top shelf douchebag to you before?”

You couldn’t contain your laugh, feeling your face heat up at the sight of him kneeling in front of you. “Steeeeve!” You exclaimed, hands coming up to cover your face. “Okay, okay, I forgive you!”

He chuckled along with you, reaching out and gently tucking the flower behind your ear. “Alright, well--” he sat down again, now significantly closer than before, turned towards you. “would you perhaps do me the honor of going out with you then?”

You bit your lip, pretending to think about your answer as he looked at you in anticipation. Instead of answering, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his plush lips. It was better than you’d imagined, his hand finding its way on your cheek as he melted into it. He made a soft, almost pleading noise, once you pulled away, and you swore he’d never looked prettier.

“Sure, I’ll go out with you.” You brushed a lock of hair out of his face. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

He grinned. “I’d hope so, after a kiss like that.”

“Shut up.” You muttered, before connecting your lips again.

He would have done so either way. Because you’d officially rendered Steve Harrington speechless. And painfully in love.

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