LAVISH

LAVISH. nineteen. she/her. scorpio. book lover. isfj.

mcu, formula 1, djo, steve harrington, asoiaf. linktree

masterlist | oneshots

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dividers credit:

lavish lessons: I've seen some vamp!osc trending recently and wanted to try my hand at some. I kind of want to keep adding to this au. So if you like it, we'll see where we go.

pairing: vampire!oscar piastri x fem!reader

genres: romance, formula 1, vampires, fluff

warnings: vampires, fangs, blood & drinking blood references, death and immortality references.

wc: ~630

When Oscar first became a vampire, the amount of times he would accidentally catch his fangs on his lips was infuriating!

He would be sitting on the lounge, scrolling through his phone, when all of a sudden he'd hiss like the neighbours' cat.

"Ahh! Fuck!"

He'd bring his hand up to his mouth and run a finger across his bottom lip, coming away with a drop of blood smeared on his fingertip.

You'd have looked up from your book, watching him intently.

"Nick yourself again?" You'd ask, putting the book down and coming over to inspect his wound.

Oscar would have those adorable puppy eyes, reaching into your soul.

You'd tut, holding his face in your palm. "It's not deep. You'll be okay."

He would stick his injured bottom lip out into a pout. "Kiss it better for me?"

Your breathy chuckle would make him smile, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. The taste of his injury transferred to your own lips.

"Better?" You'd ask when you pulled away, to which he'd nod, pulling you down onto the lounge besides him.

He'd wrap his arms around you, resting his head on your shoulder.

And you'd bask in the silence together.

Oscar had a preference for A+ blood.

He swore he could taste the difference, the same way humans say we can taste M&M flavours.

Luckily for him, A+ is the second most common blood type, meaning it was never hard to get. Whether you were at home, at a race in another country, or back to his hometown in Australia, there was always an A+ blood bag walking around.

Oscar was TERRIFIED of getting a wooden splinter.

He said they were cousins of wooden stakes, and if he got one, he was certain he'd die.

So when he did get one, in the paddock, while getting up off a wooden chair in hospitality, the whole world zeroed in on that small piece of wood sticking out of his finger.

Even though he may not have been "alive", he could physically feel his "phantom" heart speed up.

You were nowhere nearby at the time, so as he ran through the paddock (looking very weird to the fans, mechanics and staff as they watched him), the only thought repeating in his head was "I need to find you before I die."

A little romantic, right?...right?

So when Oscar finally found you, talking with Alexandra about the upcoming race, he didn't hesitate. Grabbing your face and smashing his lips on yours.

Alex, as speechless as she was, just kind of awkwardly shuffled away to give you two a moment.

"Hey", you started as he pulled away, "what's wrong?"

Oscar didn't speak, just held out his splintered finger for your eyes.

Your heart clenched for him.

"Oh baby. You're okay."

You looked around the paddock, finding a quiet corner you could slip into where no one would see.

You pulled him along with you, cradling his injured finger. And when you stopped, you lifted his chin so he was looking straight at you.

"Hey, look, you're okay. No ashes, no death. You're here. With me."

His breathing slowed, realising that yes! He was still alive. He was still here with you. And this only made him feel stupider.

"I'm sorry, baby." He whined, hiding his face in your neck.

"It's okay, Osc. It was scary. First time."

He laughed lightly against your shoulder. "I looked like an idiot."

"Maybe a little." You teased, earning a squeeze against your sides from his hands resting on your hips.

"Will you be okay?"

Oscar raised his head, adjusting his cap as he smiled, guilty. "Yeah, I just needed to find you."

You smiled back, kissing him on the cheek.

synopsis: At Aunt May's F.E.A.S.T. gala, Peter just wants to be with his gorgeous girlfriend. But no one can know they are together. When Aunt May is tired of Peter's sad looks across the hall, she gives him the all clear to swing by his girl. haha pun, get it?

content: peter parker x fem!reader, peter in a tuxedo, pining!peter, totallyinlove!peter, cantgetenoughofyou!peter, need I say more? peter wants to keep your relationship private, reader loves teasing peter, flirting!peter, aunt may loves your relationship

notes: who else has gotten either into or back into peter parker fanfics after the new spiderman bnd trailer release 🙂‍↕️ cause I have!

806 words

inspired from hush hush by the band camino!!

It's a gala for Aunt May's F.E.A.S.T. organisation.

Peter is wearing a nice black suit. He looks really good.

You're wearing a satin dress in a deep blood red. 'For Spider-Man', you tell everyone who asks you about it. But really, it's for Peter.

Peter, who is standing across the room next to his aunt. He can't keep his eyes off you. He's been itching all night to touch you, to kiss you, and to tell you how much he loves you. But he knows this is important to Aunt May; he can't just slip away with you in tow. What would the guests think?

No one knows about your relationship. Other than Aunt May, MJ and Ned. Peter would like to keep it that way. Unless he can sneak you away without anyone noticing...

Aunt May notices he hasn't said anything in a while and follows his gaze. She feels guilty, keeping him away from his girlfriend.

He's supposed to change into his costume and swing by and say a few words. This is only maybe 10 minutes away. May sighs, gesturing towards you. "Go on then. But don't be long!"

Peter widens his eyes. "Seriously?! Thank you, May!"

Screw what the guests think!

You're standing with some sponsors, listening to them mansplain investing and the best stocks to buy at the moment. You couldn't be more bored. But you just can't find it in you to excuse yourself. It would be rude.

Peter calls it 'the goodness' in you. He says it radiates from you. You don't know whether he was being serious when he said that or whether his spider-senses were just in overdrive.

Luckily enough, Peter manages to grab one of your hands that was fidgeting behind your back and whisks you away from that exciting conversation.

"Excuse us!" He calls back to the men.

You follow him to a secluded hallway.

"Hi." He breathes, smiling widely as he takes in your dress.

"Hey," you smile back, "nice save, Spider-Man."

Peter's eyes widen, and he puts a hand over your mouth to hush you. His eyes scan around for any guests, finding none.

"Don't do that!"

He's exasperated. And you're enjoying every second of it. He removes his hand, lacing your fingers together.

"I can't thank my boyfriend for saving me from the clutches of mansplaining terror?" You tease, bringing your other hand up to trace his jawline.

Peter shivers, only to pull back out of reach. "You can; you just can't call me...you know." His eyes are everywhere but your own.

"You're cute when you're stressed."

"You're captivating in that dress." He smirks, watching as it's your turn to become flustered.

"I wore it for Spider-Man." You try and say matter-of-factly.

"Oh yeah? A shame he's not here to see it then." Peter flirts, running his hands down your sides, the satin bunching in places.

He's leaning in, eyes closing as he breathes in your scent. It always sends him crazy. Like his senses are tuned specifically to you.

You grab his collar and pull him down to meet your lips. It's hot; it's heavy. It's like fireworks are exploding between the two of you.

It feels like a century since you last kissed, but in reality it's only been a couple hours. Still, you're enjoying every second of it. His smell, his taste, the softness of his lips. It's all very him. Very Peter. Your Peter.

Too engrossed in each other, neither of you notices the guest that shuffles into the hallway, probably looking for the bathrooms. She is stunned, her eyes hovering over the nephew of the gala organiser and a girl.

Peter's senses alarm him, and he quickly pulls back from your lips. You look down the hall and see the woman, whose face is shocked, and then she disappears back into the event.

Peter looks guiltily back at you.

You laugh breathlessly. "I guess we've been caught."

You reach up and flatten his messy hair down, and he catches your wrist and kisses it. "I'm sorry." He mumbles into your skin.

Shrugging, you smooth out your dress. "It could be worse; I could have been kissing Spi—"

Peter has already smashed his lips back onto your own, effectively cutting off your sentence.

"Peter!" Aunt May is the next to round the corner. "Go and get changed; you have 2 minutes!"

He laughs, pulling back to whisper an "I love you" before rushing off down the opposite side of the hall.

"I love you more," you whisper into the air, laughing to yourself as you turn to Aunt May.

You ask her with a shy smile, "Do I look okay?"

She smiles widely, pulling you to her side. "You look in love."

That leaves you smiling bigger as you walk back into the gala.

𝐓𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐞

summary: Sitting by the campfire, you and Steve have been together for a year. Kisses are shared and in the heat of passion, declarations of love are said for the first time.

notes: S1/S2 Steve, I find I write best with song inspirations...

content: fluff, fem!reader, Steve yearning/simping, Steve gets embarrassed, saying "I love you" for the first time

1k words

Crackles and warmth overwhelm your senses. The fire in Steve's backyard burns brightly, stoked a few minutes ago with some more logs. You've pulled two pool chairs beside the campfire, lying back as your eyes admire the flames as they dance.

Steve's eyes are admiring something else.

The way your hair fell perfectly across your shoulders, your eyes sparkling as they observed the ancient dance of light and shadows on the trees surrounding you.

You met Steve in junior year; at the time he was still pining over Nancy Wheeler and butthurt over his fight with Jonathan.

That's when you walked into his life.

Leather heels, lip gloss, Farah Fawcett hair. You were the girl of his dreams. And not just his normal dreams...

Steve pulls a box of cigarettes from his pocket and lights one. He takes a slow drag and tilts his head to exhale it up into the night sky. Your eyes admire the curve of his jaw; tilted back, you can see the muscles tightening and loosening as he thinks.

He holds the box out to you, raising his eyebrows in a silent "Want one?"

You shake your head, readjusting yourself on the pool chair. "My mum smokes. I hate the smell. Brings back bad memories."

Steve raises his eyebrows comically and all but jumps to stamp the cigarette out on the floor, his new pristine Nike shoe covered in soot. "I'm sorry," he mumbles.

"Don't be. You didn't know."

Steve's smile is crooked and embarrassed as he runs a hand through the back of his coiffed hair.

Earlier in the day, he had taken you to a diner, got your favourite meal and listened to you talk about whatever was on your mind. He was actually a great listener—when it came to you anyway. If it was Dustin, he'd have zoned out after the first sentence, but not with you.

He wanted to know everything about you, your likes and dislikes, your fears and dreams, and even your self-care routine. He'd never felt this with Nancy or any of the other girls. He chalked it up to being this weird effect you had on him.

Although you had never mentioned your dislike of smoking.

You could see he was embarrassed, the way he seemed to grow even more quiet than before. How his knee began to shake up and down, and his hands fidgeted in his lap.

He thought it was over. He thought he'd done it. Ruined it. Smashed it into tiny pieces. All because of a stupid cigarette. He should've known better. He should've noticed the way your eyes squinted and your jaw tightened whenever he held a cigarette. He should've tried harder.

You sighed, "Steve."

No answer.

It always ended like this. Everyone would leave him. His parents always left. Nancy left him. His other ex-girlfriends left him. Dustin would eventually leave him to go to college or something. It was a cycle, dooming Steve to loneliness for eternity.

And yet, you stayed.

He didn't notice at the time, too consumed by his raging thoughts.

"Steven."

No answer. Wow, he must've retreated far into his head.

You got up from your chair, crossing the small distance between you. He didn't even notice. Not until you kneeled down beside his chair, cupped his face in your hands and kissed him. Hard.

That brought him back to life.

His hand flew to the back of your head and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss while you crawled onto his lap. His eyes fluttered closed, a sigh escaping his throat. He smelt clean, a mixture of his hair products, cologne and aftershave. He tasted a little like smoke from the cigarette, but you pushed through your dislike for him.

Him.

Steve Harrington.

The boy who slipped on his first attempt to ask you out, clumsily ramming his body into the set of lockers beside yours. The boy who brought you flowers on the first date that were already wilting and looked sad. He'd pouted and said they were fine when he bought them; that's when you had introduced him to vases. And the boy who would willingly ditch Dustin the moment you said you were home alone. To be fair, that alone was an achievement for him, considering how close the two were.

Steve was burning – his face, his chest, and his hands. He felt as hot as the fire that danced beside you two. But it wasn't painful; it was...nice. Like something had clicked into the right place. That something was the way your bodies melded together, two becoming one. Sure, you were still fully clothed and in no way sexually touching each other, but he felt that he had finally found the one.

Coming up for air was the hardest thing. The sparks that ignited as soon as your lips crashed on his were addictive. This was a new development, something you had never felt before.

You smiled at him, lazy and silly, as you watched the fire's reflection in his eyes. He gave a breathy laugh, capturing your face with his hands on your cheeks. He rubbed his thumb across your skin.

"I love you." Steve whispered, eyebrows furrowing like he meant it.

The words felt foreign on his tongue; he'd never said them before. Not to you.

The weight of the world lifted off your shoulders.

"You won't believe this, but I think I love you too."

He laughed, giving you his best smile. "You think?"

You fell into the crook of his neck, mildly embarrassed, giggling at yourself. "I know."

"Ah," he teased, "that's more like it."

The rest of the evening was spent cuddling on the one pool chair, arms encircling one another, legs tangled, and soft kisses pressed wherever you could reach.

𝟏𝟏:𝟏𝟏

summary: you and Steve go to the beach at night, and he has a surprise up his sleeve.

notes: partially inspired by a song, lemme know if you can guess it.

content: fluff, fem!reader, surprise proposal

1k words

The ocean roars before you, salt and spray mixing with the copious amount of hair products you've used. Steve's hair is not much better, battered by the raucous wind. He keeps running his hands through it, muttering under his breath about "Mother Nature having it out for me." He's annoyed. You've told him multiple times that his hair looks amazing.

It's nighttime; constellations litter the sky in unique patterns. The beach is deserted, except for the twin heartbeats lying on the shore.

It was your idea to come to the beach at night. You'd always wanted to listen to the crashing waves and fall asleep under the stars.

Steve was less enthusiastic about it but wanted to keep you happy. And so he let you pack a picnic rug into his beamer, did his hair with even stronger products than usual, and drove you out of Hawkins to a little beach a half hour away.

You were smiling the whole time, telling Steve about your dream to lie underneath the stars and listen to the music of the ocean. He nodded, keeping one hand on the wheel and the other resting on your thigh.

You had worn a yellow sundress, which had almost made Steve drool at the sight of you. He had worn his usual jeans and jacket, opting for comfort. He didn't have to impress you.

Steve manoeuvred an arm and brought you flush against him. He smelt like cedar from his cologne and lavender from his aftershave. You sighed, burying your face deeper into his shirt.

"You okay, baby?" Steve asked, lifting your head with a hand on your cheek.

His dark brown—no...chocolate—eyes were shining against the darkness of the ocean. And he held so much love and devotion in them that you could feel yours welling up with tears.

"This is everything I've dreamed of." You whispered loudly against the quiet of the night.

"Everything?" He chuckled, sitting you up to rummage around in his jacket pocket.

You knit your brows together in confusion, watching him produce a small, blue box with gold lace wrapping the edges.

Steve tugged at the lace with his teeth, pulling until the fabric came loose and bunched in his hand. He looked up at you sheepishly, lifting himself onto one knee with a deep breath.

You gasped, realising what he was about to do.

"YN, baby, my angel. You are the greatest thing to ever happen to me, and I am so glad that you walked into my life..."

If the tears weren't falling before, they definitely fell now.

"I was a stupid kid. I had no purpose. I worked any job I could to survive. Lifeguard, Scoops, The Squawk. That was until you happened. And just like that, I had a purpose."

You sniffled, wiping a tear that had fallen with the back of your hand.

"We've battled monsters, psycho wizards, even senior biology together."

A wet laugh escaped your lips, remembering helping Steve with his biology homework in senior year. He wanted to quit messing around and do his best, and you were his number one cheerleader, hanging around after school with cue cards to help him understand.

"My favourite set of stairs is the one up to your room. And you make me the happiest man alive when I'm with you."

Only Steve Harrington could propose to someone and still be a sex fiend.

"The kids adore you, especially Dustin, who actually encouraged me to quit being a coward and go for it."

You laugh at the image of Dustin giving Steve a pep talk, much like the ones Steve has given the kids in times of need.

"So, I guess what I'm asking is...do you want to spend the rest of your life with me?"

Balanced on one knee, hair a mess, scared smile gracing his pink lips, Steve couldn't have looked more perfect in that moment.

You pounced, grabbing his collar and smashing your lips on his. He chuckled and kissed back just as hungrily, smoothing a hand down the back of your head. He tasted like peppermint and a faint hint of smoke that you guessed was from an anxious cigarette drag somewhere along the way. He had hidden that pretty well, considering he'd told you he'd quit smoking.

Your hands wandered to the back of his neck, where you played with his hair, swallowing a blissful sigh that escaped his lips.

Teeth clashed, and the ring box fell onto the sand beneath you as your bodies collapsed, breathy laughs escaping you both as you pulled back and admired each other.

You ran a hand down the side of his face, grazing his jaw with your fingertips. He pushed some hair out of your face that had fallen in the heat of passion.

"I guess that's a 'yes'?" Steve chewed on his lip, running his other hand down your shoulder.

"That was a goodbye kiss. I'm breaking up with you." You squinted at him, said monotone, and even leant back a bit to make space between you.

His goofy smile fell, instantly replaced by a pout. His hand stilling on your shoulder.

A grin broke your features as you grabbed his face and pulled him closer again.

"Of course it's a 'yes', dingus! I want to spend the rest of my days with you!"

You punctuated your statement with a deep yet soft kiss to his pouting lips.

Steve's hands found the ring box discarded between you and managed to open it and place the gorgeous silver diamond ring on your finger. All while not breaking the kiss.

He really was good with his hands.

Breaking apart, you rested your forehead against his, a gigantic smile gracing your lips. Your eyes admired your new piece of jewellery.

Steve pecked your lips again, once, twice, and spoke, "How do you feel, soon-to-be Mrs Harrington?"

"Like my wish has come true, Mr Harrington."

"Is this everything you've dreamed of?" He joked, earning a playful shove from you.

11:11

steve harrington

peter parker