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the barber predicament— s. harrington

pairings: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

synopsis: when steve complains that he can’t find a new barber after his old one retired, eddie recommends you; an old friend of his that’s a stylist. and you seem to know the way right to steve’s heart-through his hair. based on this request.

warnings: reader and eddie are besties, brief mention of eddie and max’s shitty childhoods, probably incorrect depictions on what it’s like to be a hair stylist, FLUFF to the max and terrible writing

a/n: I really really don’t like how this came out but I loved to request so much that I forced myself to finish it. everything I know I about being a hair stylist is from getting my hair done so much and from tiktok, so I tried to keep the details I wasn’t sure of vague. I apologize if anything is wrong, please let me know if it is. also I completely guessed on how much hairciuts were in the 80's so sorry if thats wrong too. otherwise, like always, i’d love any feedback you guys give me

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“Steve, I sympathize with you, I really do, but if I have to listen to you complain that you can’t find a barber for another second, I will tell Keith that you’ve been letting pretty girls get away with their late return fees.”

Steve’s jaw fell open, staring dumbfounded at Robin. “W-well, excuse me,” He stuttered, offended. “For wanting to confide in my best friend about my troubles. Truly, Robin, I don’t know why I assumed you’d be supportive.”

The blonde rolled her eyes, shaking her head lightly at her friends dramatics. “I was supportive up until the fourth time you talked about it. What’s the big deal, anyways?” She asked. “There’s like 3 different barbers in town. Go to one of them.”

Steve stared at her incredulously, as if she’d just told him to shave his head. “Are you being serious? Do you know me at all?”

Robin sighed, pulling the bin of returned movies out from under the counter. “Yes, Steve, in fact I do. I know that your hair is weirdly important to you. But what do you expect me to do about the fact that you won’t trust any of the barbers in town?” She asked, organizing the movies by genre on the rolling cart next to her.

“You looking for a barber, Harrington?” The additional voice caused the two Family Video employees to jump, looking over to see Eddie leaning on the counter casually.

Recovering from the startle, Steve nodded skeptically. “Yeah, I am. Why, you have someone you know?”

Eddie nodded with a grin. “Indeed I do. This girl that graduated the first time I was supposed to. She was in Hellfire. Went to school for hair and everything. Even does mine on occasion for a discount.”

Steve’s eyes shot up to his hairline, head nodding slowly. “Right.” He said, drawing out the vowel. “Well, listen, Munson. I mean no offense when I say this, but I don’t know if I trust someone with my hair that leaves you looking like that.” He explained, gesturing to the other boys head.

Eddie looked at him blankly. “Offense taken.” He deadpanned. “You think I want my hair like this simply for convenience?”

Both Steve and Robin stayed silent, giving Eddie knowing looks instead. He sighed in defeat. “Okay, fine, that’s partially why. But, I also have to give credit to my ultimate role model, Kirk Hammett.” He grinned.

He received blank looks from his friends and the metal head threw his arms up in exasperation. “Really? Kirk Hammett? Lead guitarist of Metallica? Nothing? Why am I friends with you guys?”

Before either of them could respond with a witty remark, Max came skipping up to the counter with two movies in her hands, throwing them down onto the counter. “I’m ready.”

“2 movies?” Eddie glared at the redhead. “Really, Maxine?”

Eddie and Max had a very odd brother sister relationship that was built almost entirely on a consistent basis of bickering and shoving each other around. Still, they looked out for one another, and Eddie felt responsible for making sure the little bit of Max’s childhood that was left was positive. Which he did so in different ways, including bringing her to rent movies for their movie nights.

“Yes, 2. Because you still owe me for the last movie night you forgot about.” She spit back. Eddie gritted his teeth, sliding over the correct amount of money to Steve for the movies.

“As I was saying,” He sent the redhead one last glare. “Even though my hair is convenient for my lifestyle, I ask for it to look a certain way to resemble someone I look up to. She’s the only one who’s ever gotten it to how I want.” Eddie told Steve, snatching a pad of sticky notes and a pen from behind the register.

He scribbled down a series of numbers before sliding it back. “That’s the number for the salon she works at. Give her a call. If you want.”

-

You were on your lunch break when the call came in. On a Wednesday, there was no need to have many stylists in the salon at once. Most appointments and walk ins would happen in the afternoon and as a younger stylist you were more often than not told to come in during the day for walk ins. The other women in the salon were older, more experienced stylists that didn’t need the extra cash you normally got for the services.

The food on your fork was midway to your mouth when the phone rang and you let it fall back onto your plate with a sigh.

“Thanks for calling Hawkins #1 hair salon, how can I help you?” The slogan spewed from your lips like a broken record.

“Uh..hi.” You straightened at the deep voice that came from the phone. Of course, you had men in the salon, usually though just to wait for their wives or kids to get their hair cut. There was the occasional male client, but most went to the local barbers and wouldn’t be caught dead getting their hair done in your salon. As if getting a haircut from a woman made them more feminine.

“Hello!” You chirped. “How can I help you today?”

The man on the other line hesitated for a second. “I’d like to book a haircut? With, um…Y/N.”

You perked up at the sound of your own name, a bashful smile appearing on your lips. Someone had recommended you?

“That would be me.” You chuckled. “Can I ask who referred you?”

The nameless man gave you a polite laugh, the deep timbre of the sound sending a warmth to your cheeks. “Uh, yeah. Eddie? Eddie Munson? He said you guys were friends in high school. Said you were good at what you do.”

The kind words certainly did nothing to quell the heat in your skin, but you still beamed at the mention of your friend. “Yeah, Eddie, of course. I’ll have to give him a discount the next time he comes in.” You joked. In all seriousness, you already didn’t charge Eddie the normal amount that you did for haircuts, fully aware of his financial situation. “But, yeah, I can put you in for a haircut. What day were you hoping to come in?”

“Is tomorrow okay? It’s my only day off.”

You opened up the binder that kept track of all appointments, making sure there were openings for the next day. “Yeah, it says here I have an opening at 10am and another at 1. Either of those sound good?”

The line went silent for a second too long, and you have a feeling the man nodded before remembering he was on the phone. “1pm would be great, thanks.”

You grabbed a pen and crossed out the 1pm slot. “Awesome. What’s the name I can put down for you?”

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

-

Steve was irrationally nervous for his haircut. Never mind the fact that he was risking, in his opinion, his best feature, but the thought of meeting you was annoyingly nerve wracking. The way your voice sounded over the phone was borderline angelic, and he could only imagine what kind of beauty you radiated in real life. Not to mention, you and him briefly walked the halls of Hawkins High at the same time, and he wondered if you were aware of his reputation back then. He couldn’t recall your presence, but then again, he had his head so far up his own ass that he didn’t recognize most people from high school.

He was so antsy that morning that he was ready to go by 11, leaving him to pace and try to find little things to keep himself busy. The second it hit 12:50, Steve was sprinting out the door, making it to the salon in a record 5 minutes.

The bell above the door rang as soon as he stepped in, alerting the few stylists and customers that were there of his presence. One of the stylists, an older, heavier set woman took a glance at him as she blow dried her client.

“Y/N!” She called towards the back of the salon. “Your 1 o’clock is here!”

A second later, a woman stepped out, who he could only assume was you. You emerged from a beaded curtain, a sight to behold. Steve felt his breath hitch and he tried to wipe the sweat from his hands on his jeans.

You weren’t doing much better. Of course you knew who Steve Harrington was. He’d been a year younger than you, but he’d quickly climbed the social ladder in school. Every party was a big deal when it was held at Steve’s house and if you were friends with him, you were automatically cool.

You hadn’t cared much about the social aspect of school, focusing only on passing your classes and playing DnD. It’s where you met Eddie, who had easily become your best friend. It had been upsetting when you found out he wouldn’t be walking the stage with you, but you’d been supportive of him ever since.

And like every girl, you’d had a crush on Steve Harrington. How could you not? He was a total dreamboat and you’d be crazy not to find him attractive. You’d always been able to push that desire to the back burner, considering your best friend was continuously labeled as The Freak and you certainly didn’t gain any popularity by being associated with him.

When Eddie told you that he’d befriended the former King of Hawkins High, you truly believed he was fucking with you. But he claimed that the man had changed; matured. He told you that Steve’s best friends were a senior girl who Eddie knew band from marching band and a freshman that was in Hellfire. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious about this new man Steve Harrington had apparently become.

Oh, and that crush you had? Definitely still there. That much was evident by the dryness of your mouth that occurred the moment you laid eyes on Steve.

He was even more handsome than you remembered. Long legs clad in light blue Levi’s, polo shirt fitted nicely to his toned chest and big brown eyes looking back at you with an expression you couldn’t read.

Steve wished he remembered you. He couldn’t help but wonder if things had been different, would he have noticed you? He wanted to kick himself for not having. You were probably the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, and he realized now that describing you as angelic didn’t do you justice. You were ethereal–otherworldly.

He could see why you and Eddie were friends. Your outfit was mainly made up of black articles with a few splashes of color here and there. Your makeup was dark, creating a contract between the black eyeliner and the color of your iris’s. You were stunning, to say the least.

“Hi!” You exclaimed breathlessly. The sound of your voice broke Steve from his jumble of thoughts, only making his brain fizzle further. Your voice was even sweeter in person. “Steve, right?” You asked, though you knew the answer.

Steve cleared his throat, nodding. “Yeah, that’s me. You’re Y/N?”

You grinned so brightly it nearly made Steve’s heart stop in his chest. “That would be me. You can come sit at my station.” You said, patting the chair you’d stopped at.

He obeyed silently, taking a seat in the chair. You had to crank the lever a few times, lowering the height of the chair to accommodate for his large stature. You tried not to focus on the intoxicating smell of his cologne and he tried not to focus on your hands taking through his hair.

“So, what were we thinking of doing to your hair?” You asked, leaning your arms on the back of the chair.

Steve made eye contact with you through the mirror and hoped you couldn’t tell how red his cheeks were, because he definitely could. “Um, I was hoping to keep most of the length. Shorter on the sides, longer in the front?” He was really just spitting out words, hoping they made sense. Honestly, he was finding it difficult to focus on your question when he felt your fingertips on his scalp.

“So..we’re thinking Swayze but longer?” Steve’s jaw fell slack, staring at you in awe as you put his thoughts into words with incredible ease. You really did know what you were doing.

“Yeah, exactly.” He responded quietly, a little stunned.

You sent him that brilliant smile once again. “Cool.” You stared thoughtfully at his reflection, head tilted to the side. “Can I-could I suggest something? And you can totally say no, but I personally think it would look really good.”

Steve thought that you could ask him to commit arson and he’d say yes. “‘Course. What is it?”

You pulled a couple of strands around his face, trying to visualize your idea. “How would you feel about getting a little bit of highlights?”

His eyebrow cocked in questioning. “Highlights? Don’t only chicks get those?”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes a bit, and Steve’s stomach immediately dropped. He fucked up, he offended you, he–

“No, silly. There’s actually a lot of actors recently that have been getting them. It wouldn’t be any drastic, just a few streaks that would be a shade or two lighter than your natural color. I think it would compliment your skin tone, bring out your eyes.”

The boy found himself nodding before he really considered what you were telling him. “Yeah,” He blurted, realizing he had yet to give you a verbal response. “If you think so. I trust you.”

“Great.” You laughed. “I’ll get you mixed up.”

Steve didn’t know what that meant, but he did know that his haircut had now upgraded to a lengthier process, and he was just happy to have a reason to be around you longer.

As promised, you came back out a couple minutes later, using a brush that looked like a big fork and mixing up a gooey mixture in a bowl. You were quick to start slathering the light purple substance in his hair, carefully applying it to chunks that you had placed over a piece of foil. Each section was enclosed and folded into a little square.

“So what brings you to me? I know you said Eddie referred you, but guys aren’t usually very willing to go to a stylist rather than a barber.” You said.

Steve shrugged a little. “I had a barber before, but he retired and moved out of Hawkins. He’s the only one that’s ever gotten my hair exactly how I want it.” He blushed, reluctant to reveal the reason he’d agreed to be there. “My hair is kinda important to me, I didn’t wanna go to just any barber and risk them fucking it up. Eddie said you were great and I really just needed a haircut.” He explained.

You nodded understandingly, finishing up the last couple sections of his highlights. “I get that. Hair has always been really important to me too. Obviously.” You gestured around you. Steve laughed and you felt the sound bring a warmth to your chest. “It’s always been the easiest way besides my clothes to express myself. And it’s nice to have control over something as an adult when so much is out of your control.”

Your eyes met in the mirror once again, his big doe eyes staring deep into your soul with an understanding that only came from shared experiences. You didn’t know much about Steve’s home life, only what you’d heard during school. His parents were loaded but were often never home. As a teenager, that’s the best thing that could happen to you, but as an adult, you saw how that could get pretty lonely.

The time passed by far too quickly for either of your tastes. You and Steve hadn’t even noticed the time flying so quickly as you talked about anything and everything. It was crazy to think that this man, this sweet, charismatic, beautiful man, used to be a douchebag in high school.

Steve was in heaven as you washed his hair, not even bothering to hide his bliss as your fingers massaged the hair products into his scalp. He could die happy right now, he was sure of it. You held back a giggle as his eyes closed and a convent hum came from his throat. Not wanting to embarrass him, you refrained from commenting and continued your routine.

After a few cycles of shampooing and rinsing and conditioning and rinsing until Steve’s hair was clean and silky smooth, you shut the water off and gathered his hair in a little towel.

“Okay, all done. I’m just gonna blow dry your hair, style it a bit and you’ll be all set.” Steve couldn’t help the frown that appeared, not wanting your time together to end.

It seemed like you read his mind, commenting as you dragged a hairbrush through his brunette locks. “If you’re happy with how your hair came out, you can always come back for trims, o-or touch ups on your highlights.” You stuttered, smiling sheepishly and silently praying that he couldn’t tell how desperate you were to see him again.

“Yeah?” He asked. You nodded, biting your lip shyly as you refocused on his hair. You sat in a forced but comfortable silence as you blowdried his hair. Once it was all nice and fluffy, he watched as you poured a series of liquids into your palm, raking them through his hair. You messed with the strands for another few minutes, doing stuff he didn’t understand but somehow styling his hair exactly how he likes it.

He had to admit, you were definitely right about the highlights. They brought a brightness to his complexion that hadn’t been there before. He felt like he looked younger somehow, which was surprising, considering the kids he always hung around with made him feel like he was pushing 80 sometimes. He told you as such, reveling in the sweet sound of your laughter.

“Well, that’s my job. Just glad you trusted little ol’ me with your most prized possession.” The words came out teasingly. Steve grinned back at you through the mirror, shrugging slightly.

“Guess I owe Munson, huh?”

You agreed, guiding him back to the front to check him out. You typed something into the register at the counter. “Your total is gonna be $10.”

Steve’s eyebrows almost touched his forehead. “That’s it? For the haircut and the highlights?”

“Yeah, it’s with a discount. You are Eddie’s friend after all.” You were almost charging him just for the haircut, and Steve was not having it.

He frantically shook his head in protest. “No, no, Y/N. You don’t have to do that. I can pay you the full price, trust me.”

“Steve,” You chuckled, “It’s okay. I don’t give out many friends and family discounts, it’s not like I’m losing all that much money.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you challengingly. “Oh yeah? How much is the full price for highlights.”

You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, reluctantly mumbling out the price, which was much larger than what you were asking. “Absolutely not. Charge me the right amount.” Steve was not about to leave and let you basically have a free service. Not when you worked so hard.

“I’ll just tip you the rest if you don’t.” He smirked, eyes peering at you fondly when you sighed in exasperation.

“It’s seriously fine. I offered the extra service, you don’t have to pay for it.”

A lightbulb lit up in Steve’s head, eyes shining at the obvious opportunity. He’d be an idiot not to take it.

“Fine.” He sighed dramatically. “At least let me do something to pay you back for it. A service for a service, huh? What do you say?”

The corners of your mouth tilted up, betraying your efforts to keep a serious face. Steve was clearly not backing down. “Okay. What’d you have in mind?”

A pink rose to Steve’s freckled cheeks. “Let me take you on a date?”

Your breath hitched. You certainly felt the tension between the two of you ever since he walked in, but you really weren’t expecting anything to come from it.

Steve took your silence as a negative reaction. “Or-I could do anything else. Doesn’t have to be a date, really. I could buy you lunch one day or-“

“I’d love to.” His big brown eyes snapped up to meet your in surprise.

“Really?”

You nodded gleefully, unable to keep your grin from growing. You could feel your cheeks beginning to ache with how much you were smiling.

“Okay.” He whispered, ducking his head bashfully. Steve quickly pulled his wallet out, handing you the 10 dollar bill.

It took less than a minute for you to input his money in, ripping the receipt that printed it. Before you could hand it to him, you grabbed a pen and scribbled something on it.

“My house number. Give me a call?” You asked in a hopeful tone.

“Definitely.” Steve grinned and you repressed the urge to swoon. He sent you a cute little wave, leaving you in the salon smiling like an fool. As soon as he was out the door, your fellow stylists squealed, crowding around you and demanding details.

Steve faintly heard the high pitched noise, smirking to himself. Sliding into the drivers seat of his BMW, he sighed happily. “Yeah, I definitely owe Munson.”

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dead wrong — steve harrington x reader

summary: steve harrington is down horrendous for you, his best friend since he was a scrawny pre-teen. turns out, his love is not as unrequited as he thinks.

contains: best friends to lovers, mutual pining (but mostly steve pining), steve’s pov, fluff galore, idiots in love, reader is good with the kids, reader is a skater like max, reader hurts her wrist and steve is a worried lovesick idiot. cw! descriptions of wounds/blood, mentions of hospital, reader wears steve’s clothes. she/her pronouns used.

a/n: first long fic yay!! I am extremely proud of this so pls love it 🤍

fem!reader 5.3k words

gif by @barneswayne

Steve Harrington is totally, most definitely, not in love with you. Just friends, he thinks, best friends. Best friends who hold hands and sit far too close together.

Speaking of, you push further into Steve’s side, your scent washing over him. Your hand squeezes Steve’s, and he thinks, never mind. Maybe he is in love with you. So in love with you it fucking hurts.

A chorus of shouts erupts around him. You and Steve are watching Eddie, Robin and the kids play beer bong, only without the beer. It’s soda. Dustin starts doing a stupid victory dance while half of his peers laugh and the others cringe. Steve cringes. You laugh. All high and lilting and adorable. Steve has to remind himself to breathe.

He brings your joint hands to rest on his knee. Your rings push into his skin, almost like harsh reminders that he can’t hold you like he wants to. He frowns.

“Steve?” Your voice brings Steve out of his thoughts like it always does. You give his hand a shake. “You okay?”

Steve looks up and prays you can’t see the hopeless devotion in his eyes. You’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, with your messy hair and your eyes lined with glitter. Rosy cheeks, glossy pink lips that he stares a beat too long at. He’s known you for years, and yet he’s never gonna get used to how gorgeous you are. He swallows, forces his eyes up to yours.

“I’m okay,” he says, though he’s really not. He never is, because you never won’t look like that. “Are you?”

There’s another explosion of noise from the soda-pong players, but you don’t seem to notice. You frown like you don’t believe him. He’s being too obvious, he knows.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you sure, Steve?” You stretch your free hand across your torso to touch his face. Steve heats like an oven under your hand as you press your palm to his forehead. “You’re not feeling sick, are you? You feel sort of hot.”

Steve grabs your wrist, harder than he means to. He loosens his grip guiltily when you give him an alarmed look.

“Sorry,” he says quickly, lowering your hand gently. He can feel your pulse, only just, underneath his fingers. It’s damn sure slower than his. “I— uh, no. I’m not feeling unwell. It is pretty hot in here though.”

A total lie. The only reason he’s burning up is you.

Your frown deepens, a push of your bottom lip that makes Steve want to kiss you. It’s such an overwhelming feeling that he has to blink multiple times to make it go away.

“Oh,” you say. You look around the room and then back at Steve. “Do you want to go outside?”

Steve has a bit of a dilemma. If he says yes, he’ll be alone with you. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. If he says no, he’ll have to stay in this stuffy room with yelling teenagers and ping pong balls flying at him every five seconds. He decides on the first option.

“Sure,” he says as nonchalantly as he can. Then, to make you laugh, “Smells like boy in here anyway.”

You giggle. Steve feels like copying Dustin’s lame victory dance.

“You’re a boy, Stevie,” you say teasingly.

He wrinkles his nose at you. “No, I know, but it’s like … adolescent boy.”

You laugh loud, your mouth pulled up in a staggering smile. “Oh, okay,” you say, as if anything he just said made any sense.

Steve is starstruck for a second before you’re pulling him up from his seat, your hand in his a familiar, heart-aching weight.

Steve finds himself sitting side by side with you on the hood of his car. He can’t exactly remember how he got here — on the way, all he could think about was your hand in his and the fact that your thumb kept brushing over his knuckles in very distinct lines. Whether you’d meant to or not, he doesn’t know. He hopes you did.

“Any better?” You ask quietly, stretching your pinky across the small gap between your hands to tap his.

Steve feels something like an electric shock where your skin touches his. It baffles him, how such a tiny touch can cause such a big reaction throughout his body. He stares at your hand when he answers.

“Much,” he says honestly. He looks up at you. “You didn’t have to come with me, you know. You can go back in if you want.”

Secretly he hopes you’ll stay here with him forever. But that would be selfish, and if Steve is anything when he’s with you, it’s not selfish.

“Eurgh, no.” You pull a disgusted sort of face that makes Steve grin. “I could barely stand it when you were there. Without you, I think I’d die from the smell alone.”

Steve laughs. Really laughs. The words without you, I think I’d die, float around his brain like fish in a fish tank. When he’s done laughing he catches your smile, all pretty and wide, and his heart does one of those funny backflips that he’s never gonna get used to.

Steve watches as you brace your hands on the edge of the car and push yourself up the hood, pulling your shoes up to rest on the metal. Your skirt is short enough that Steve can see half of your thighs, more when you shift yourself like that. He stares for two seconds too long and then feels so guilty he almost apologises.

Instead, he says, “Aren’t you cold?” He points at your skirt but doesn’t look.

You shrug. “No, not really.”

With a sigh you let yourself fall back against the hood of the car. Your skirt rises even more and a half inch more of your skin is exposed — Steve feels like the universe is out to get him. His only escape is to fall back next to you, his right shoulder brushing your left one. You smile when he does, head rolling to the side to look at him. Face to face now, Steve can feel every small breath coming from your parted lips.

“See any stars?” He blurts, because your face is much too close and he’s scared if you look at him like that any longer, he’ll kiss you stupid.

You look up at the dark, empty sky and wrinkle your nose. “No.”

“Wait, look, there’s one.” Steve lifts his arm to point at what he thinks is a star.

You squint in its direction. “That’s a plane.”

“What? No it’s— oh.” He trails off when he realises the ‘star’ is moving. It disappears behind a cloud a second later.

You laugh, breathless and pretty, and drop your head onto Steve’s shoulder. Your perfume fills the air around Steve and he has to stop himself from leaning closer. You bring a hand up to fiddle with your necklace, a cheap, plastic ‘S’ charm that sits directly on your sternum. The fake diamonds are falling off, half of them gone already, but you’ve refused to take it off after all these years. Steve has one of your initial, too. You got them from a dollar store when you were twelve and pinky promised to be best friends forever.

You slip your necklace safely beneath your top and then stifle a yawn behind your hand.

Steve gives your elbow a nudge. “Tired?”

You shrug one shoulder and then droop further into Steve’s side. Every point of contact between you burns.

“You’re tired,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

You make a noise that’s probably meant to be a sound of protest but comes out more like a tired moan. Steve chuckles lightly, reaches over and rubs your arm.

“Alright, sweet girl. Let’s go home.”

‘Home’ really means Steve’s house, because you’ve left your car there and because you’re over so much it’s become your second home. By the time Steve is pulling up the driveway, you’re so dead beat he doesn’t even consider letting you drive yourself home. You practically hang off his waist as he walks you both inside.

“M’tired,” you mumble as you pass the living room.

Steve has to bite back a laugh. “Uh-huh, I can tell.”

You look up at him and squint like you know he’s laughing at you. Then you say, “Can I sleep in your bed?”

Steve’s heart skips. Sure, you’ve slept in his bed before, but every time you have Steve lay awake for at least half the night. He’s not above admitting that he’s watched you sleep more than once. He’s seconds away from telling you to take the guest bedroom when you pout dramatically.

“Please? You’re so warm.” You push into his side, your arm tightening around his waist like you don’t ever want to let go.

Steve hates himself for nodding, but he can’t help it. “Yeah, okay.”

He drags you up the stairs and into his room. Your makeup and stray jewellery is strewn across his dresser — you’d gotten ready at Steve’s before the party. If you could even call it that, Steve thinks. He plants you on his bed and you fall back immediately, eyes shut tight as your hair splays across the sheets.

“You’re like a zombie,” Steve says amusedly, his gaze all fond and mushy as he looks down at you. “From like, Day of the Dead or something.”

You pull a face, faux offended but your big grin gives you away. “Ew. I’m not that ugly, am I?”

Steve hums long and high like he’s thinking about it. This makes you gasp and throw a hand to your chest like he’s wounded you. Before Steve can get half a laugh out a pillow is hitting him straight across the face.

“Hey!” He exclaims, glaring at you. You’re still lying down, eyes screwed tight like you’re pretending you didn’t just brutally attack Steve. He laughs because you’re fucking adorable. “Zombies don’t throw pillows, Y/N.”

Your words are plagued by a yawn as you say, “This one does.”

Steve sighs at your antics, picks up your murder weapon (his pillow) and replaces it on the bed.

“Oh no,” you groan suddenly, like you’ve remembered something awful, hands flying to your face in despair. “My makeup, Stevie. M’too tired to take it off.”

Your words stick to each other like taffy in your tired state. Steve remembers the last time he let you sleep in your makeup. He didn’t hear the end of it for days. He’d rather avoid your wrath this time round.

Steve sighs, knowing full well he’s about to put his foot in it. “Well, will you let me do it?”

You open one eye blearily and look at him. “Would you?”

Steve shrugs, though the thought of being that close to you makes him feel nauseous. Luckily, you’ve closed both eyes again so he can blush all he wants. Plus, he’d do anything for you. Even endure the overwhelming urge to kiss you breathless.

“Sure thing, babe. I’ll get the stuff.”

Steve ends up sitting on his bed with you across from him, crossed legs pressing up against his. You’re sitting so close you’re almost in his lap. He ignores this for the sake of his dignity.

You’ve got your eyes shut and your hair up in a clip. A lock of hair has tumbled out of its knot and Steve pushes it away from your face, fingers hooking behind your ear and lingering. He keeps his hand on your jaw as he raises his other hand, a wet cloth ready to clean your sparkly makeup off.

“You sure about this?” He asks hesitantly. He’s dead terrified he’ll do something wrong, like get glitter in your eye.

You smile softly, your eyes staying firmly shut. “Yes, Steve, it’s fine.” Your tone is half reassuring and half exasperated.

Steve bites the bullet and goes right in, pressing the wet cloth to your cheekbones first. You’ve got blush and glitter there, sprinkled on your cheeks like fairy dust. He smooths the cloth along your skin and it comes away sparkly and pink.

“Okay?” He asks, pausing worriedly.

You nod slowly, your head starting to droop in his hand. “Yeah, Steve.”

Steve grins fondly at your face, screwed up in exhaustion. He tightens his grip on your jaw to keep your head steady, thumb hooked under your chin. Carefully, he begins to dab at your eyelids, also painted with silvery glittery eyeshadow.

Your face dewy and makeup-free, Steve thinks you’ve never looked prettier. So pretty it drives him mad. He stares, really stares, for far too long but he’s worried if he opens his mouth, breaks the silence, he’ll never get to see you like this again. Your hair all messy pretty, your eyes shut and eyelashes kissing, your pink lips turned in a half smile.

He’s not surprised when your soft voice drifts into his thoughts.

“You done?” You open your eyes, eyelids heavy and head heavier.

Steve snaps out of it. He lets go of your face quickly, slides off the bed even quicker.

“All done,” he says, almost tripping over his own feet.

You smile, seemingly oblivious to his clumsiness. Or maybe, it’s just happened so often that you’re not surprised. Either way, your smile is sickeningly sweet. Steve is torn between the desire to kiss you or run as far away as possible from you.

Your voice matches your honey-smile when you say, “Thank you, Stevie.”

You reach out to touch his forearm, your hand a heavy weight on his skin as you wrap your fingers around his arm and squeeze.

He grins lopsidedly, and he’s sure he looks like a lovesick idiot but he can’t find it in himself to care. “You’re welcome.”

You drop your hand and Steve’s arm suddenly feels cold as ice. He wants to touch you again but knows he shouldn’t. He strides to his bedroom door and pauses to turn and look at you.

“I’m gonna get you a glass of water,” he says. Your eyelids are drooping again. He laughs fondly. “Get in bed while I’m gone, zombie-girl.”

Your giggle follows him all the way to the kitchen.

When Steve gets back, a glass of water in each hand, you’re still as a statue on your self-appointed side of the bed. You’ve swapped your outfit for a grey t-shirt that you totally stole from him but deny every time he asks about it, and the shortest shorts known to mankind.

He switches off the light and shuts the door with his heel. Pointedly avoiding looking at your bare legs, he rounds the bed and sets the water down, then bends over you.

“Y/N?” He whispers.

You hum softly, though Steve can’t tell if it’s a hum of acknowledgement or just a sound you’ve made in your sleep. He leans closer, listening to your breathing. You’re awake, only just.

He brushes his hand over your upper arm, touch as light as a feather. He thinks he feels goosebumps on your skin but doesn’t have time to wonder why. You’re lifting your chin slightly, lips parted.

“Goodnight, Stevie,” you whisper, so quiet he barely hears you. Steve’s heart swells. “Thanks for … everything.”

A few moments later you fall silent and your breathing grows steady, and Steve wonders how the hell you always fall asleep so fast.

He rubs your arm, kisses your forehead because he knows you won’t remember this part. His lips buzz as he pulls away. “Goodnight, sweet thing.”

-

You’re outside Family Video. Steve emerges from the back room and spots you so fast it’s like he’s got a third eye. He’s both shocked and pleased — he hadn’t expected to see you until after his shift.

You’ve got the kids with you. You and Max are zooming around the carpark on your skateboards while Dustin and Lucas are poised on the hood of your car, poring over comics.

He watches you skate with Max. Like some lame rom-com cliche, your hair is blowing in the wind and Steve swears you’ve moving in slow motion. You’re laughing and joking with Max and Steve stares and stares. Stares until Robin sidles up next to him.

“What’re you— oh.” Steve can hear the smirk in her voice even though he refuses to look at her. “What’re they doing here?”

Steve shrugs and makes an ‘I don’t know’ sound, moving to the counter to put down the box of videos he’s carrying. Robin follows.

“You’re not gonna go say hi to Y/N?” Robin asks slyly. Steve can hear in her voice what’s coming. “You’ve been staring long enough.”

Steve blushes furiously despite himself. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Oh, sure.” Robin hoists herself onto the counter, peers into the box of videos and picks one out at random. “Just like you weren’t holding her hand on Tuesday night?”

Steve can’t exactly get himself out of that one. He snatches the video from Robin with an annoyed tsk, slotting it back into the box. Her laugh is devilish.

“You are hopeless, Steven,” she says, whacking Steve over the head as she hops off the counter.

Steve rubs his head and glares at Robin. If looks could kill she’d be dead meat. “That’s not my name.”

Robin gets this look on her face that Steve knows all too well. He wants to pummel her before she’s even said anything.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, all sarcasm. “What is it, then? Stevie?”

Steve’s blood boils. Only you’re allowed to call him that.

“Y’know what, Robin?” He says loudly. He turns on his coworker, seething. She’s totally nonchalant, a stupid smirk on her lips. “Why don’t you just leave me—?”

“Steve!”

A shout of his name from the door. He turns and finds Lucas standing there, looking panicked.

Steve’s brow furrows. Then he notices you and Max are no longer whizzing around the carpark. “What—“

“Y/N fell,” Lucas says, out of breath. “We think she hurt her wrist.”

Steve’s heart drops. “Shit.”

He goes flying out the door and into the parking lot. You’re sitting on the concrete, one knee pulled up to your chest, your skateboard dormant next to you. Max is kneeling over you, and Dustin has graciously abandoned his comics for your sake.

“Y/N!” He damn near shouts. He runs over to you and Max and gets on his knees. He’s probably just ruined his jeans on the concrete — he doesn’t give a single fuck.

“Y/N,” he says frantically, a tentative hand landing on your shoulder. Both your knees are scraped something awful and a nasty gash blooms on the outside of your wrist. Steve’s worry is loud and his heartbeat twice as much. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened? What’s—“

You look up. Your eyes are shining but you’ve got a dopey smile on your lips.

“Steve,” you say breathlessly. You blink and a tear falls from your eye and over the bump of your cheek. “Hi. Good to see you.”

Steve stares at you in horror. How can you be making jokes at a time like this? You laugh wetly and Steve looks at Max, totally alarmed.

“What happened?” He demands.

Max is much calmer than he is. “She went over a bump or something,” she says. She’s rubbing your back and Steve feels a rush of gratitude for the younger girl. “Fell on her left arm. Her wrist might be sprained or broken, but—“

“Broken?” Steve repeats. He’s pretty sure his soul just left his body.

“I said might,” Max says through her teeth.

“Y/N?” Steve slides his arm around your shoulder, carefully avoiding your left wrist, which you're cradling in your uninjured hand. “Y/N, baby, can you get up?”

You make a noise like a scoff but it’s muffled by your sniffly nose. “‘Course I can.”

Steve helps you anyway, Max on your other side keeping a firm hold on your jacket. You hiss as you straighten your legs, knee-wounds sprouting fresh blood. Steve bites down on his lips so hard he almost bleeds himself.

“Are you gonna take her to the hospital?” Max asks. There’s genuine worry in her eyes that Steve barely sees. Dustin, Lucas and Robin appear, looking equally worried.

Steve puts on a brave face. “Think so. What do you think?” He asks Max. “You’re the skateboard expert.”

She grins so quick Steve almost misses it. It disappears when she looks at you in your bloody and bruised state. “Yeah. Just in case.”

Steve walks you over to your car, half dragging you. Not that you need him to, he just can’t bear for you to hurt any more than you already are. He deposits you in the passenger seat, ducks his head in to pull your seatbelt across your torso. He’s seconds from ducking back out when you stop him, your uninjured hand on his chest, right over his racing heart.

“It hurts,” you say, quiet enough that only Steve can hear. Your eyes are welling up again. Steve feels like crying himself.

“I know,” he says, nodding vigorously like it will make a difference. “I know, sweet girl. It’s gonna be fine. You’re gonna be okay.”

At this point he’s talking to himself as well as you. You nod in an exhausted sort of way and Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. Slow and soft and as close to your lips as he’s ever kissed. He has to take a few seconds to compose himself before straightening up and turning to the others.

“I gotta take her,” he says, sending an apologetic grimace in Robin’s direction.

Robin nods once and surprisingly, doesn’t say a word. She looks about as sympathetic as Steve has ever seen her. He turns to the kids.

“Help Robin,” he says. He’s trying desperately to make his voice sound normal but falling short of the mark. Everyone notices but nobody comments. “Don’t mess up the store.”

He gives a grateful smile to Max and then rounds the car, hopping in and starting the engine.

-

You’re half asleep on Steve’s couch, your head in his lap. You’re wearing his yellow sweater — the one he bought only because you’d said he’d look good in yellow. You’ve just woken up from a post-hospital nap and Steve’s hand is in your hair, brushing slow strokes over the side of your head.

He’s feeling a lot of things. Relieved, for starters. The doctor had said it was only a sprain, they’d bandaged up your wrist and you’d left the hospital in far better conditions. Steve was in far better conditions, too.

Steve looks down at you, at your bandaged wrist and the huge bandaids on your knees and thinks, fuck. He thinks his heart is about to claw its way out of his chest. He doesn’t think he can take this love thing any longer.

You stir and take a long breath, turning your head in Steve’s lap to look up at him. Your eyes are tired but you’re smiling.

“You okay?” Steve asks softly. He doesn’t want to break the silence. It feels good, to sit in silence and comfort with you. He runs his fingers through your hair again.

You nod. “Mhm. I’m good.”

“Hurting?”

You shift in his lap. “No, not right now.”

You fall silent and Steve doesn’t know what to say. He wants to tell you how worried he was about you, but you could probably tell. Anyone with a pair of eyes could tell he was nauseous-level worried. Then he thinks about telling you he loves you. It’s a stupid reason, really, but it was all because a nurse had asked if he was your boyfriend. He’d wished he could say yes.

“Steve?”

Steve hums and meets your eyes. You move to sit up and Steve helps you, knowing you won’t let him stop you. A firm hand between your shoulder blades, his palm sliding down your back as you straighten yourself. You shift so you’re facing him, your legs crossed beneath you and your injured wrist resting in your lap. Steve is careful to avoid your wounded knees.

“What is it, babe?” Steve asks quietly. He brings his hand up to caress your cheek, dragging his thumb over a spot where your tears had smudged your mascara earlier.

You melt into his hand, eyes falling shut as a long, deep sigh falls from your lips. You raise your good hand to cover his, holding it to your face. Your hand burns stars onto the back of his.

“Is it your wrist?” Steve asks. You’re acting strange. He puts it down to your injured state. “Your knees? Do you want more ice? New band-aids?”

He’s being a total worrywart, he knows, but who can blame him?

You shake your head, eyes open but cast down. “No.”

“Just feeling bad?” He asks through a frown. In a strange parallel to a couple of days ago, he lifts his free hand to press his palm to your forehead. You feel warm but not hot.

“It’s …” you start, then trail off. Both yours and Steve’s hands fall to your lap.

Steve’s concern spikes. You’ve never been one to hide anything from him. “Yeah?”

“Um, it’s … it’s silly but—“ You take a deep breath and let your eyes raise to Steve’s. You get a look on your face Steve doesn’t quite understand, but it makes his heart leap to his throat anyway. “You know today, when that nurse asked us if you were my boyfriend?”

Steve laughs embarrassedly, too loud and too sudden. So you’d been thinking about that, too. He pulls his hand away from your lap and rubs the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that was kinda weird, wasn’t it?” He says, though it wasn’t really. Almost every new person he meets thinks you’re dating him. “I was—”

“I wanted to say yes, Stevie.”

Steve stops talking abruptly, his mouth slamming shut. He hadn’t really known what he was about to say, anyway. He searches for words but all he comes up with is a garbled, “What?”

You laugh, all soft and slow and distorted by fatigue. You raise your hand to rub your neck, a mirror of Steve only a moment ago.

“I wanted to say yes,” you repeat, like it’s obvious. Even the second time, Steve doesn’t believe what he’s hearing. His chest feels like it’s on fire, worse when you say, “I want you to be my boyfriend.”

For once in his life, Steve has nothing to say. He gazes at you like you’re some sort of angel on earth. Maybe he’s dreaming. Maybe he’s in some cruel dream and he’s about to wake up with his chest aching.

“I …” Steve‘s voice catches on the words. His throat burns so he mustn’t be dreaming. He tries again. “Y-You … you do?”

He’s not even embarrassed by the stuttering. Just when he didn’t think he could be any more in love with you, you giggle. He was dead wrong. His heart grows about three sizes too big for his chest.

“Yeah, Steve,” you say, fondness smothering your fake exasperation. “Do you … do you want me to be your girlfriend?”

What Steve wants is to kiss you. He wants to kiss you til you can’t breathe and then some more after that. Silently, he takes your injured wrist in his hand and gently shifts it so it’s out of the way, resting on the couch cushions. Then he grabs your face, fingers splayed over your jaw and neck. He can feel your pulse. It’s almost as quick as his. He leans so close he can hear every breath you’re taking.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over yours. “That okay?”

You laugh a giddy, breathless laugh, surprised at his suddenness. “Please do.”

He slams his eyes shut, darts forward to kiss you and fucking misses. Your noses bump. A surprised giggle bubbles from you and Steve goes red.

“Wait, I’m sorry—“ He tries again, tilting your head to one side and angling his head to the other. This time it works perfectly, and your giggling is swallowed up by Steve’s mouth, lips fitting together like they were made for each other.

You sigh and go all melty and Steve’s heart skyrockets. It feels like everything in the world is falling into place. It’s years of longing, eternities of lingering touches and offhand compliments and longing glances all rolled into one life changing kiss. Your good hand has jumped to Steve’s chest, first bunched in the material of his t-shirt and then spreading over it, palm atop his wild heart. He thinks he might die on the spot. Or like, catch on fire or something.

Steve is losing breath but he won’t stop just yet. He drops his hands to your shoulders and pulls away a hair’s breadth. Then he dives back in for one, two, three kisses that you respond to with all the eagerness in the world. Your kisses are so lovely they make him light-headed.

When Steve pulls away (for oxygen, nothing less) you chase his lips with yours. He laughs, all fondness. He’s dizzy with love.

“Woah, hold your horses, cowboy,” he says through a woozy laugh. He’s finding it hard to speak. He barely hears himself. For all he knows, he’s talking in an alien language.

“Sorry,” you whisper, not sounding very sorry at all. “So … was that a yes?”

Steve has to laugh. He can’t help it. “Are you kidding? Yes, Y/N. That was a yes. I—“

He’s rudely interrupted by someone banging on the door. He thinks he knows who it is. Only one person he knows knocks that hard.

He sighs morosely but he can’t keep the grin off his face for very long. “I’ll get it.”

He heaves himself off the couch and makes for the front door. You stop him before he gets very far, a hand in his bicep.

“Wait, Steve.”

Steve turns, puzzled. “Yeah?”

You’re lifting your chin up, lips parted. Steve knows exactly what you want.

His grin grows impossibly wider as he bends at the waist to kiss you once, chaste and slow and just as perfect as the kisses shared moments ago. When he pulls away you’re smiling so big he’s worried you’ll get stuck like that forever. He wouldn’t mind.

Another round of banging from the door. Steve sighs, squeezes your good shoulder once and then marches to the front door, just about ready to kick the intruder off his front porch. He opens the door and finds his suspicions were correct. It’s Dustin.

He’s holding a handful of flowers that look suspiciously similar to the ones that grow in Steve’s mom’s garden.

“Those for me?” Steve asks. He shoots his arm out to stop Dustin from barging in, hand gripping the door frame.

Dustin pulls a face. “Ew. No, they’re for Y/N.” He steps aside and more kids appear, plus Robin and Eddie. Eddie’s van has been parked haphazardly in Steve’s driveway. “Can we come in or are you gonna stand there and guard the door like that all night?”

“She’s tired.”

“But we bought chocolates.”

“Well—“

“Dustin?” You call from the living room. Oh, great. Now Steve’s gonna have to let them in. “S’that you?”

Dustin beams and gives Steve an expectant look. Steve drops his arm with a defeated sigh and Dustin goes marching in like he owns the place. Max, Lucas and even Mike follow. Mike, who never shows up to anything. Though Steve shouldn’t be surprised. You’re Mike’s favourite, out of the older ones.

Eddie comes next, then Robin, who stops to give Steve a grimace.

“Sorry,” she says wryly. “They really wanted to see her.”

Steve shrugs good-naturedly. He’s on cloud nine and much too happy to care all that much. He follows Robin into the living room and finds everyone crowded around you, Max on your side and Dustin getting down on one knee to present you the probably-stolen flowers like you’re the Queen of England. You look the same as Steve feels — kiss bitten and with your head in another world. But you’re pleased by the company, he can tell.

Dustin moves to give you one of his bone-crushing hugs and Steve goes all panic mode.

“Please be careful with her!” He says urgently, his panic obvious under the usual demanding tone he takes with the kids.

But you’re laughing under Dustin’s hug, and Steve can’t stay mad when you look like that. You meet his eyes over a mop of curly hair and your gaze goes all mushy and sweet. Steve’s legs feel like jelly. If he keeled over dead right now, he wouldn’t be surprised.

He’s sure someone will see but he doesn’t really care. Grinning from ear to ear, he mouths, “Love you.”

He’s said it before, of course he has, you’re his best friend in the whole entire world. This time though, it’s all the more different. It’s better. You flush, oblivious to the noisy chatter around you.

“Love you too,” you mouth back.

Steve can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

thank you for reading! feedback is appreciated!! reblog this and I’ll kiss you on the mouth mwah

Why do you like sharks?

ABSOLUTAMENTE SEM CHAAAAO

As descrições das percepções dos meninos 😭😭😭 que tudoo. Se um homem pensa daquele jeito sobre mim, derreto na horaaaaa

Ansiosíssima para os próximos capítulos

paring: enzo, matias & agustin x fem!youtuber!leitora summary: sua viagem para espanha com certeza foi uma aventura, uma a qual você apenas se arrepende de não recordar. writer: deixando aqui o primeiro de mamma mia, espero que gostem.

[ masterlist ]

sua amiga ( amora ): quer contar pros seus seguidores o que você fez na Espanha?

você realmente abriu uma live no meu perfil pra me humilhar? ta bom, eu oficialmente fiz a pior merda e a maior besteira da minha humilhada vida todinha. . . eu quis dar uma de voar voar, subir subir perto demais do sol e agora minha menstruação ta atrasada e eu estou sendo obrigada a fazer testes de gravidez, mas eu não me arrependo.

sua amiga ( amora ): a querida pra dar a vida a uma criança e não se arrepende, gravidez na adolescencia é foda

ai bi, se liga, um tempo na Espanha e três homens lindíssimos para me divertir por pelo menos uma noite . . . você se arrependeria?

sua amiga ( amora ): isso mesmo que ela deixou entender, ela não sabe quem é o pai, ela nem mesmo lembra dos pretendentes e possíveis papais

bom, agoras vamos atrás de aguls testes e tentar colocar um nome nos possíveis papais, me arrependo apenas de não estar sóbria o suficiente durante minha estadia na Espanha . . . foram noites que realmente precisavam ser lembradas, parece até aquele seu filme favorito

sua amiga ( amora ): você vivendo mamma mia, apenas atitudes de diva nessas férias, me leve da próxima vez

PRECISAMOS, gringo é maluco pirado em brasileira, mulheres, nunca se importem com o coração partido, sempre tem um gringo muito gos esperando você lá fora.

curtido por amorinhavv, martinilarisssa, vinecollapin e 18.818 outros

yourusername como pode, um colonizador europeu que ainda tem monarquia ser lindo assim, tipo assim compensatorio ( líderes espano latinos, to aqui, qual o próximo passo da invasão?

view all of 8.513 comments

amorinhavv próximo passo é você viralizar em Portugal e terminar o plano que o Lucas Netto falhou em terminar

snamoraaxx elas panejando colonizar os colonizadores breenasillva reparação histórica mggfandomm finalização do sotaque português

sociedadeseunome amo esses ínicio de viagem dela que são meio culturais

syraxbr mãe saiu de casa pra passar o rodo na europa

snsfandom vem ai o maior vlog de viagem de todos os tempos

glyyynda aquele cast bonitão não ta na espanha agora?

snhourly é a cara da diva viajar pra europa e só ir atrás de latino

primeiro story respostas na dm do instagram

vroginwifey homem do céu pecado você postar essas coisas

madmaxxxx CASA COMIGO

gonzagapipee COMO EU QUERIA SER ESSA FRUTA

aguustrival QUEM TIROU ESSA FOTO?

recaltthinker os meninos não estão com você então quem tá?

pardellaarchive SÓ UMA CHANCEEEEE

segundo story respostas na dm do instagram

valen.laiiin QUEM É ESSA?

vogrincicthinkeer ENZO???

matiasrecalt alguns dias de passeio e você já encontrou alguém?

agustinpardella moço onde você está moço???

pardellathinker SOFT LAUCHING???

missusvogrincic EU NÃO ACREDITO QUE PERDI

À medida que Enzo continuava a massagear a perna da garota, ele se deixava levar pelas sensações que aquele momento proporcionava. Seus movimentos eram fluidos, quase rituais, como se estivesse dançando com os dedos sobre a pele dela. Cada toque era uma expressão de cuidado e ternura, uma maneira de mostrar a ela que estava ali para proporcionar conforto e bem-estar. Enquanto seus dedos exploravam os contornos delicados da perna dela, Enzo não podia deixar de notar a beleza que emanava dela. Seus pensamentos vagueavam para além da superfície física, mergulhando nas profundezas de sua alma. Ele se perguntava sobre os sonhos, medos e esperanças que ela guardava dentro de si, ansioso para descobrir mais sobre a pessoa por trás daquela aparência encantadora.

A garota, por sua vez, parecia relaxada e à vontade na presença de Enzo. Seus olhos encontravam os dele de vez em quando, transmitindo uma mistura de gratidão e vulnerabilidade. Ela sorria timidamente, como se estivesse tentando esconder a intensidade de suas emoções, mas Enzo podia sentir a sinceridade por trás daquela expressão. Enquanto o silêncio confortável pairava entre eles, Enzo pensava sobre como suas vidas haviam se cruzado da maneira mais inesperada naquela tarde. Ele lembrava vividamente do momento em que a viu pela primeira vez, como se o tempo tivesse desacelerado apenas para permitir que seus destinos se entrelaçassem naquele instante. O quarto de hotel, com suas paredes acolhedoras e o aroma suave de lavanda pairando no ar, criava um ambiente propício para a intimidade e a conexão. Era como se o universo estivesse conspirando a seu favor, guiando-os suavemente em direção um ao outro, mesmo que seus caminhos parecessem tão distantes até aquele momento.

A viagem de Enzo para a Espanha foi uma aventura que ele jamais imaginou que o levaria a um encontro tão significativo. Quando decidiu embarcar nessa jornada, estava buscando novas experiências em meio a divulgação de seu mais recente trabalho, talvez um pouco de descontração e, quem sabe, um pouco de inspiração para sua vida cotidiana. No entanto, ele não esperava encontrar alguém que o deixasse tão cativado e conectado em um lugar tão distante de sua casa.

Desde o momento em que colocou os pés em solo espanhol, Enzo se viu imerso em um mundo completamente novo. As ruas estreitas, os aromas tentadores da culinária local e a cadência melódica do idioma espanhol o envolveram em uma atmosfera vibrante e acolhedora. Ele se permitiu mergulhar de cabeça nessa experiência, absorvendo cada detalhe com curiosidade e entusiasmo. Foi durante um almoço casual em um restaurante local que Enzo teve seu primeiro encontro com a garota. Ela estava cercada por colegas, todas animadas e falantes, e ele se viu atraído pela energia contagiante dela. À medida que conversavam, Enzo se surpreendeu com a facilidade com que se entendiam, apesar das diferenças culturais e linguísticas.

O tempo parecia voar enquanto eles trocavam histórias, piadas e segredos, cada risada aproximando-os ainda mais. Enzo se pegou compartilhando detalhes de sua vida que nunca havia revelado a estranhos antes, maravilhado com a sensação de ser compreendido e aceito tão rapidamente por alguém que acabara de conhecer. À medida que o dia avançava e a tarde se transformava em noite, Enzo percebeu que havia encontrado algo especial naquela garota. Ela era mais do que apenas uma companhia agradável; ela era uma alma afim, alguém com quem ele poderia se conectar em um nível profundo e significativo.

Enquanto refletia sobre sua viagem à Espanha, Enzo se viu grato pelas reviravoltas do destino que o levaram até ali. Ele nunca poderia ter previsto que uma simples viagem ao exterior o levaria a encontrar alguém tão interessante e especial, alguém que faria com que cada momento valesse a pena. E, enquanto olhava para a garota ao seu lado, ele sabia que essa viagem tinha sido muito mais do que ele jamais poderia ter imaginado. Era o começo de algo extraordinário.

Enzo sentiu uma onda de ousadia tomando conta de si quando, de repente, ele se viu deitando sobre a garota. Seu corpo se moldou ao dela de forma natural, como se fossem duas peças de um quebra-cabeça se encaixando perfeitamente. Ele podia sentir o calor emanando do corpo dela, envolvendo-o em uma sensação reconfortante e familiar. Enquanto sua cabeça encontrava o abrigo no pescoço dela, Enzo não pôde conter um sorriso travesso. Seus lábios roçavam suavemente contra a pele dela, enviando arrepios pelo seu corpo. Ele podia ouvir as risadinhas dela, música para seus ouvidos, enquanto suas mãos buscavam por áreas sensíveis para provocar mais risos.

As cócegas se transformaram em uma brincadeira divertida entre os dois, cada toque provocando risadas contagiantes. Enzo se deliciava com os sons melodiosos que escapavam dos lábios dela, uma sinfonia de alegria e cumplicidade que preenchia o quarto de hotel. Enquanto continuavam nesse jogo de carícias e risadas, Enzo sentiu-se completamente à vontade na presença dela. Não havia espaço para preocupações ou inibições, apenas a pura alegria de estar junto a alguém que o fazia se sentir vivo e feliz.

E quando finalmente pararam, ofegantes e sorridentes, Enzo olhou nos olhos dela com uma mistura de admiração e ternura. O momento em que Enzo finalmente se inclinou para beijar a garota foi carregado de eletricidade e expectativa. Depois de compartilharem risadas, conversas profundas e momentos de intimidade, o desejo havia se acumulado entre eles como uma correnteza pronta para se libertar.

Enzo sentiu seu coração acelerar enquanto seus lábios se aproximavam dos dela. Cada centímetro que os separava parecia uma eternidade, mas quando finalmente se encontraram, foi como se o mundo inteiro desaparecesse ao seu redor. O beijo foi suave e delicado no início, um toque de lábios que transmitia toda a ternura e afeto que ele sentia por ela. Mas à medida que o calor do momento se intensificava, o beijo se aprofundava, tornando-se uma expressão ardente de desejo e paixão. Enzo se entregou completamente ao momento, perdendo-se nos lábios macios e no sabor doce dela. Cada movimento era uma dança perfeita de sincronia e harmonia, uma fusão de duas almas que se encontravam em meio ao turbilhão de emoções.

curtido por jordaniaaa_, diminitrino, ln4looover e 25.231 outros

yourusername beach day com biquini brasileiro.

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fourtooommy Eu amo ela nessa viagem

yummyseunome segunda parte da viagem, ela estará chapada na praia

sncliquee como pode a mulier mais linda do mundo?

snthinker PRONTA PRA ESCANDALIZAR OS GRINGOS

gonzalizztos qual o livro da diva pra ler chapada?

primeiro story respostas na dm do instagram

pardellabbg VOCÊ TAMBÉM???

missrecalt NÃO É POSSÍVEL

gonzagacarloos um dia você, outro dia o Enzo???

beetyytrival eu conheço essa pessoa

kukuthinker O QUE TEM NO AR DA ESPANHA?

archivelatinos EUROPEIA SÉRIO????

segundo story respostas na dm do instagram

javvogrinciccc GOSTOSO, com todo respeito a sua nova namorada

kukuthinkeer você ficando chapado com um novo alguém 😫

matiasrecalt agora pronto, espero que esteja se divertindo, porque depois é você que vai ficar com o Enzo e coração partido dele

franromerofran aqui, é verdade que uma menina saiu antes do Enzo acordar depois deles dormirem juntos? O kuku não sabe contar fofoca direito

luvsimonthinker Espanha tá divertida divo?

pardellassswifey FOI ELA QUEM TIROU ESSA FOTO?

Agustin e a garota se encontravam em uma praia paradisíaca e secreta, praticamente vazia, a pessoa mais próxima deles juntava suas coisas para ir embora a pelo menos 1 minuto de caminha da de distância, ou mais, onde o sol dourado pintava o cenário com tons de calor e aventura. Ele se acomodava confortavelmente na areia macia, enquanto a brisa marinha acariciava seu rosto, trazendo consigo o aroma salgado do oceano. A menina, deitada em uma canga listrada, usava um biquíni preto que realçava sua pele bronzeada, e um boné verde que protegia seus olhos do brilho intenso do sol. Com um sorriso nos lábios, Agustin admirava a figura da garota sob os raios do sol, apreciando a maneira como a luz refletia em seus cabelos e como os contornos de seu corpo se destacavam contra o fundo arenoso. Ele podia sentir a energia vibrante do verão pulsando no ar, enchendo-o de uma sensação de liberdade e euforia.

Enquanto ela lia o livro com concentração, ele observava cada movimento dela, capturando cada detalhe com seus olhos atentos. Cada gesto, cada expressão era uma obra de arte em si mesma, uma sinfonia de beleza e graça que o deixava hipnotizado. O som das ondas quebrando suavemente na costa fornecia uma trilha sonora serena para o momento, enquanto o cheiro fresco e revigorante do mar se misturava com o aroma do tabaco, criando uma atmosfera única e envolvente. Entre uma tragada e outra, Agustin se deliciava com a cena à sua frente, absorvendo não apenas a fumaça do cigarro, mas também a energia contagiante da companhia da garota. Cada suspiro era um suspiro de contentamento, uma celebração silenciosa da vida e de todas as maravilhas que ela tinha a oferecer. E à medida que a tarde avançava e o sol começava a se pôr no horizonte, eles se encontravam imersos não apenas no livro, mas também na companhia um do outro.

Conforme as cenas mais picantes do livro se desenrolavam, Agustin sentia a tensão no ar se intensificar. Com um toque sutil, ele começava a acariciar o ombro dela, deixando os dedos traçarem padrões suaves sobre a pele bronzeada. A proximidade entre os dois aumentava gradualmente, com ele movendo-se mais perto dela, seus corpos quase se tocando. Sem dizer uma palavra, Agustin encostava seu corpo no dela, compartilhando o calor e a intimidade do momento. Ele inclinava a cabeça para mais perto, até que sua bochecha roçava suavemente contra o ombro dela. Então, com um gesto deliberado, ele colocava sua cabeça no ombro dela, como se quisesse ler as palavras do livro diretamente de suas páginas.

Com um movimento suave, Agustin se deitou por cima dela, cuidadosamente, como se cada gesto fosse uma dança sincronizada. Seus corpos se encaixavam perfeitamente, com ele abraçando sua cintura com ternura, enquanto mantinha sua cabeça apoiada em seu ombro. Seus olhos estavam fechados, mas sua mente estava alerta, acompanhando as palavras que saíam da boca dela com uma atenção fingida. Enquanto ela lia em voz alta, Agustin captava as palavras-chave sobre a cena do livro, sua mente divagando entre a narrativa fictícia e a realidade palpável do momento. Cada respiração, cada batida do coração, parecia ecoar em harmonia com as palavras do texto, criando uma sinfonia de sensações e emoções.

Enquanto as palavras do livro fluíam suavemente entre eles, Agustin sentiu o impulso irresistível de explorar a pele macia da garota sob seus lábios. Com delicadeza, ele começou a distribuir beijos suaves atrás da orelha dela, onde a pele era especialmente sensível, causando arrepios que dançavam ao longo de sua espinha. Os beijos lentamente desciam pelo pescoço, trilhando um caminho de carícias ardentes até alcançarem o ombro dela. Cada toque era uma promessa de prazer, uma expressão silenciosa de desejo que se materializava na forma dos lábios de Agustin contra sua pele.

À medida que as carícias se intensificavam, a garota começava a perder a concentração na leitura, suas risadas manhosas preenchendo o ar como uma melodia envolvente. Os beijos de Agustin provocavam uma mistura deliciosa de sensações, fazendo com que ela se entregasse ao momento de prazer e brincadeira. Entre beijos e risos, eles se encontravam perdidos em seu próprio mundo de intimidade e diversão, onde a literatura e o desejo se entrelaçavam de maneira irresistível. E enquanto o livro continuava esquecido, eles se entregavam ao calor do momento, saboreando cada instante juntos com uma paixão avassaladora.

curtido por _anahikari, franromerofran, lechaiirrrr e 35.331 outros

yourusername festinha de despedida da Espanha na piscina.

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lannylover queria estar assim com os espanhois que eu gosto ( carlos sainz, carmen mundt e fernando alonso apenas.

seunomelover atividade de gostosas

yuuummyenzo ela finalmente voltando pra casa

snthinker MÃE VOLTE AS CRIANÇAS SENTEM SUA FALTA

otanoloveers gente, alguém mais ta acompanhando a viagem dos meninos do cast pra espanha está pensando o mesmo que eu?

recaaltmeumarido como assim? otanoloveers você andou vendo os stories? olha o do matias agora e veja a timeline desta diva aqui

marimarina um sonho

recaltweed último dia da diva bebada

primeiro story respostas na dm do instagram

matiimatias ONDE VOCÊ ESTÁ?

missussn espero que esteja se divertindo reizinho

gonerecalt EU TE AMO TANTO

matirecthinker espero que esteja se divertindo divo

recaltarchive vai virar meu fundo de tela sim

segundo story respostas na dm do instagram

valen.laiiin VOCÊ TAMBÉM

kukuthinkeer três membros do cast publicando alguma mulher

agustinpardella eita, agora somos três

franromerofran você tá em uma festa na piscina né?

pardellathinker eu sinto que reconheço ela de algum lugar

Matias estava imerso em uma experiência que transcendia qualquer descrição trivial. Enquanto a festa pulsava lá embaixo, com suas luzes coloridas e batidas vibrantes, ele se encontrava envolto em um mundo à parte, um universo particular moldado pela presença da garota diante dele. Cada detalhe, cada gesto, ganhava uma intensidade quase palpável sob a luz suave que filtrava pelas cortinas semiabertas, criando uma aura de intimidade ao seu redor. O beijo entre Matias e a menina era como uma coreografia celestial, uma dança de lábios e línguas que se entrelaçavam em um ritmo único e hipnotizante. Cada movimento era meticulosamente calculado e, ao mesmo tempo, espontâneo, como se seus corpos estivessem respondendo a uma sinfonia invisível de desejos e emoções. Não era apenas um encontro de bocas, mas sim uma fusão de almas, uma comunhão de sentimentos que transcendia as fronteiras da linguagem.

Enquanto seus lábios se encontravam em um fervoroso intercâmbio de carícias, Matias podia sentir uma corrente elétrica percorrendo seu corpo, deixando-o arrepiado e ansioso por mais. Cada toque da pele dela contra a sua era como uma descarga de adrenalina, despertando sensações há muito adormecidas e alimentando o fogo que ardia dentro dele. Era uma experiência avassaladora, que o fazia perder a noção do tempo e do espaço, deixando-o completamente entregue ao momento presente. Os sentidos de Matias estavam aguçados, captando cada detalhe do ambiente ao seu redor. Ele podia sentir o perfume suave que emanava da pele dela, uma mistura delicada de flores e especiarias que o embriagava e o fazia querer se perder naquele aroma para sempre. Podia ouvir o som distante da música lá embaixo, um murmúrio suave que servia apenas para enfatizar o silêncio íntimo que reinava entre eles. E podia ver nos olhos dela o reflexo do mesmo desejo e paixão que queimava dentro de si, uma chama ardente que ameaçava consumi-los por completo.

Enquanto suas mãos exploravam os contornos do corpo dela, Matias podia sentir a textura macia da pele sob seus dedos, cada curva e cada linha uma promessa de prazer e êxtase. Cada toque era cuidadosamente planejado e executado, como se ele estivesse tentando decifrar um enigma complicado, desvendar os segredos mais profundos e ocultos do corpo dela. E a cada resposta que recebia, a cada suspiro abafado e gemido suave, ele se sentia mais próximo dela, mais conectado a ela de uma forma que ia além das palavras e dos gestos.

Matias, envolto pela aura de intimidade que compartilhava com a garota, sentiu o impulso de expressar seu desejo de uma forma mais física. Com um gesto suave, ele deu dois tapinhas delicados na coxa dela, um convite sutil para uma aproximação ainda mais íntima. E então, algo mágico aconteceu: a menina pulou para o colo dele, como se fosse o lugar mais natural do mundo. A sensação do corpo dela se acomodando em seu colo despertou uma torrente de emoções em Matias. Pela primeira vez em sua vida, ele sentiu a necessidade de segurar alguém com tamanha delicadeza, de proteger e acolhe em seus braços como se fosse a coisa mais preciosa do mundo. Era um instinto primal, uma manifestação pura e incontestável de amor e cuidado.

Mas ao mesmo tempo, havia uma intensidade avassaladora em suas emoções, uma urgência ardente que clamava por expressão. Ele queria amá-la intensamente, perder-se no turbilhão de paixão e desejo que os envolvia, como se fossem dois corpos e uma alma fundidos em um só. Cada toque, cada beijo, era uma afirmação de seu amor, uma promessa de entrega total e incondicional. E assim, Matias e a garota se perderam em um mundo de sensações e emoções, entregando-se ao calor do momento e à magia do amor. Não havia limites, não havia fronteiras, apenas a certeza de que estavam exatamente onde deveriam estar, juntos, unidos pelo laço indissolúvel daquele dia.

e assim foi minha aventura na Espanha, com três queridissimos, e sim gente, eu tava tão chapada durante a viagem que eu tenho memórias curtas, normalmente já é péssima, mas com a quantidade de consumo que eu tive, não tem nada na cachola.

sua amiga ( amora ): tanto que foi eu quem publicava as fotos dela, as menos piorzinhas que ela colocava no drive, provavalemente a que as espanholas tiravam dela

na praia eu acho que foi o Agus que tirou, e eu tava tirando uma dele na camera dele.

sua amiga ( amora ): Agus é o da praia né?

sim, eu poderia ter sido presa por atentado ao pudor nessa ta, mas deus amado o que foi aquele homem

sua amiga ( amora ): Pelo amor . . .

Intenert, estarei dependendo de vocês, porque Amora não é cronicamente online pra me ajudar a achar eles, mas eu sei que vocês são. Provavel pai número um, Enzo, um deus grego, o olhar dele me fazia queria implorar sentar nele a noite inteira, ele é o mais cavalheiro dos três, depois dele teve o Agus, ele tinha umas tatuagens espalhadas pelos corpo, um cabelo cacheado sedoso, mas eu me lembro dele cheio de areia e um cheirinho de maconha, ele é com certeza mais amoroso, me fez rir o tempo inteiro, ai tem o Mati . . .

sua amiga ( amora ): o único que não é mais velho que a diva, aparentmente

ele tinha cara de novinho, possivelmente minha idade, tinha uma espanhola querendo ficar com ele, e já peço desculpas pra ela, mas nossa não me arrependo de deixar essa passar, o cabelo dele era preto, e ele com certeza é o menor dos três, não é muitpo mais alto que eu não.

sua amiga ( amora ): ajudem essa pobre donna a encontrar os três pais dessa sophie, antes que ela abra um hotel na Grécia e a menina vai crescer e depois chamar os três pro casamento.

I think I'm in love with giggling Bakugou... Loved your writing 😍

✝ 𝖠𝖫𝖫 𝖨 𝖶𝖠𝖭𝖳 𝖥𝖮𝖱 𝖢𝖧𝖱𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖬𝖠𝖲 (𝖨𝖲 𝖸𝖮𝖴) — 𝖪.𝖡𝖠𝖪𝖴𝖦𝖮𝖴

i was in the mood to write something fitting for this season, even though i’m not really a fan of christmas. thank you @dilfteracy for reading this and supporting me with your amazing commentary.

𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦. katsuki bakugou x genderneutral!reader

𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲. fluff, language, mentions of alcohol, underage drinking (listen, it’s legal to drink at the age of 16 in germany)

𝖬𝖠𝖲𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖫𝖨𝖲𝖳

I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need 

Bakugou scoffs into his cup of hot cocoa. He’s had about three of them now, spiked with a good amount of rum Mina managed to sneak past Aizawa’s observant eyes, but the alcohol has yet to unfold its effect to make the voice of Maria Carey somewhat bearable as she sings the lines to her infamous Christmas song for the fourth, no, fifth time that evening, warbling her high-pitched notes through the sound boxes Momo and Jirou placed in each corner of the common room for the party his class planned. 

To enjoy the last days of school together before everyone leaves to spend the holidays with their families, they had explained after he had nearly blown off the decorations a few days prior, bellowing at them why on earth they’d even want to throw a party as stupid as this one, but now, as he glowers over the rim of his mug, he’s convinced they set it up for the sole purpose of getting on his nerves. 

(and I) don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree

But despite his initial dislike of this party, he has to admit that his classmates did a decent job at capturing the festive spirit for this night — red and green ornament decorate the walls, colorful stockings that carry the names of his friends are filled with sweets and hang upon the fireplace and there’s a distinct smell of vanilla and cinnamon tickling his nose.

I don’t need to hang my stocking there upon the fireplace

Somewhere near the kitchen, Denki is fighting Sero over a batch of freshly baked cookies Sato brought, though their playful banter seems to be more to the amusement of his classmates who have gathered around them to watch their antics. With their red hats and equally ugly Christmas sweaters, they somehow resemble angry elves in Santa’s toy factory and despite trying to keep a stern face, Bakugou can’t help but crack a smile at his friends.

Yeah, they’re idiots, but at least everyone seems to have a good time.

Santa Claus won’t make me happy with a toy on Christmas Day

Between the cheers of his friends and the unwavering tootling of yet another Christmas carol, he can faintly hear your voice, laughing softly with someone. Instinctively, his eyes scan the crowded room to catch a glimpse of your face, but you’re neither standing among the group of students howling at Dunceface who has proceeded to throw cookies at Sero’s head nor does he find you talking to some of the girls sitting on the sofa and around the small table, happily reaching for the snacks as they chatter away.

“Were you looking for me?” You ask with a raised brow, pushing a plate of baked goods into his hand before you settle for a spot beside him, comfortably leaning against his shoulder. A smile creeps across your lips when he shrugs, suddenly far more interested in the pink marshmallows floating around his hot chocolate, though the treacherous blush that tints his cheeks and reaches the tips of his ears tells you that you caught him red-handed. “Hey, I’m talking to you, idiot. Are you enjoying the party?”

I just want you for my own

“Yeah, ‘s alright,” he mumbles softly. Blonde lashes flutter against his brow bone when he looks back at you, sharp gaze studying the curve of your nose, the space between your eyes and the smoothness of your cheeks, tracing each feature with a hint of secret admiration. A grin flickers across his lips, baring his teeth for just one second before it disappears behind his usual scowl and he slumps against your back, focuses on your body heavy and warm against his own — he likes it, the feeling of your shoulders touching and his fingers faintly grazing your hand as he stands there with you and suddenly Bakugou realizes he likes you. 

More than you could ever know

He actually likes you. 

Right, maybe he’s had too much of that stupid rum Mina mixed into that awfully sweet hot chocolate and a part of him is becoming aware of the blush that creeps up the back of his neck and seems to flush his entire face in embarrassing heat, but before he can stop himself, he’s fucking giggling. Tears prickle at the corners of his eyes as he tries to stifle the sounds behind his raised hand, clasped tightly over his mouth until he can’t take it anymore and drops his head on your shoulder, laughing quietly into your hair.

“What’s going on with you now?” You ask. There’s a teasing lilt to your voice that coaxes another fit of giggles out of him and you swear it’s the most beautiful sound you have ever heard. “Katsu, c’mon! What’s so funny?”

“I think I like you,” he wheezes, barking out a laugh. His hands find yours, fingers curl tightly around your wrists and then he’s sliding down the wall, pulling you with him to the floor where he gently knocks his head against yours. There’s a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth and you think you should be alarmed, because you’ve never seen him like this before or maybe you should take the empty cup out of his grasp and keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t get another sip of the spiked cocoa, but this is—

Make my wish come true

"You think?” You repeat quietly, full of hope.

“Yeah,” he mutters after a beat and turns his head. For a moment, neither of you dares to say more before he finally leans in to press his lips against yours in a clumsy kiss that faintly tastes like hot chocolate and rum and your heart punches your ribcage in excitement. “I like you, dumbass.”

All I want for Christmas is you

Sofiii, me encantan tus edits. Son las cosas más preciosas de este mundo. ¿Podrías hacer uno de Valentino Alonso, por favor? 🥺

Valentino Alonso 🤍

perdón por tardarme tanto pero me encantó como quedó

https://youtu.be/V4CRPvel2Vc

https://youtu.be/u5pTICZ2oeg

IT JUST DROPPED. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

definitely not me crying😌

Day 1 of productivity

Well, I decided to make a "journal" of my days of productivity starting today.

I'm a Psychology student and I started at the college last year, but with the pandemic I didn't have the opportunity to get the true experience of being a college student. Actually I'm having online classes, but is not the same thing. It's more difficult to me to focus and to study, so I guess that making this will help me in some way.

Today I did read an article about feelings, because I need to do a presentation about it. Also I did organize my notes about Psychology History... So, yeah, I think that was a good day.

Fun (?) fact: I like to read or make paperwork while listing music or podcast. Today I listened to Six (the musical), Hamilton and a podcast about true crime.