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januaryembrs · 12 days

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I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE | Marc Spector x reader

Request: @happyhauntt says - okay i am BEGGING for a fic based on the song 'forest fire' by brighton (be warned that shit HURTS) but i fully cannot decide between poe dameron, steven/marc or spencer reid so i am giving you full creative direction and i look forward to getting my heart ripped out!!

Description: Marc had always carried her with him, since they were small kids playing pirates in the yard, before things got messed up by grown up feelings and burdens. It's not until he sees her twenty years later, he realises he should have saved her.

length: 3.9k

Warnings: Heavy warnings for childhood / domestic abuse/neglect (both from Marc and also reader has a neglectful father) warnings for alcohol, the cave scene, drowning, death etc. you asked for angst, so I served!

authors note: sorry this took so damn long, today isn't even my day off and I have been too exhausted to even look at my computer, but I hope you like it!

Before Randall was too little to be part of his adventures, Marc used to play on his own in the yard.

Usually that entailed kicking a football at the wooden fence that lined their garden, trying to knock it off his chest when it would come bouncing back the way he’d seen the professionals do it, even if it had led to three milk teeth coming loose already.

But there weren’t kids on his street to play with, at least that’s what he thought until the one day he kicked his ball a little too high and watched it fly right over the top of the fence, bouncing into the neighbour's yard, a soft “ouch” meeting his ears.

In minutes, a little head appeared over the wall, beady eyes frowning down at him, and he realised it was a girl around his age, maybe a little younger.

“Did you lose this?” She held up his soccer ball he was worried he was going to have to kiss goodbye to forever, the small digits of her other hand holding onto the fence tightly.

“Yeah! Sorry, I didn’t mean to kick it so high,” Marc said, and with no more explanation than that, she threw it over to his side of the partition, and her tiny head disappeared back below the fence line.

He felt stunned. He knew there were moving boxes over that way a couple weeks ago, but as far as he could see there was only a man living there on his own, a scowl on his face most days. Marc had seen him shouting at the other kids on his block to stop riding their bikes in front of his house because it ‘upset the dog’, though Marc had yet to see for himself this canine friend he was speaking about.

But there was a girl living there! A real life girl who spoke to him; granted he had lobbed a heavy soccer ball at her, from what her distaste told him, and he wondered if perhaps, despite the grumpy look on her face he realised mirrored the man he’d seen living there, that she might like to even make friends with her neighbour.

“Wait!” He yelled, running up to the fence where she had slipped away from him, grabbing on to the top and pulling himself up to the point he was on his very tippy toes and he could only just about see her yard.

The grass was unkempt, which was odd because Marc’s own dad cut the grass every fortnight, and there were planks of wood with nails sticking out of them strewn across the side of the shed she had used to pull herself up with. He fought the urge to cringe in disgust, because there, looking up at him from where she was making a daisy chain in the long, dry grass, alone in a pink plaid shorts and a white, dirt stained top, was the girl.

“Do you want to play?” Marc asked, his foot nearly slipping under him where he was trying to rest it on the wood to take a closer look, “I have tennis, or swing ball we could play?”

She looked interested at the mop of curly, black hair for a moment, before she looked back at the house that he had still yet to see any sign of a dog.

“I’m not sure my dad would like it…” She said cautiously, almost whispering to him, picking the soil under her nails.

“My mom could come around and get you, she could talk to him,” He offered, because this was when his mother was still mom and not Wendy.

Before she had yet to flip his world entirely upside down with her cruel hands and vicious tongue. Before Steven.

She seemed unsure, biting her bottom lip and stroking her arms like she was giving herself a cuddle. But she nodded, looking up at him, and he tried to hide just how excited he was to finally have someone to play with.

“I’m Marc,” He said, grinning at her, his tongue poking between the space where his adult teeth were only just growing back in.

She told him her name back, and it was the first time he understood what a crush was.

–

“Marc, I’m not sure we should be doing this,” She said, grabbing his hand so tight he thought his heart might explode.

“It’s okay, we come here all the time, don’t we, RoRo?” He reassured, looking back to where Randall, now a few years older and big enough to play with them, held onto the side of the cave, his own face nervous.

“All the time!” The little boy echoed, because Marc knew he had a bit of a thing for her as well, because she was older and cool and smelled like a field of flowers and he hated seeming like he was scared, even though he was.

He was just a kid.

They were just kids.

And being kids, they stumbled into danger without realising it, not even when the rain started coming down outside torrentially and they had to pause their game of pirates to run for cover. They hadn’t expected, in their childish excitement to continue the adventure, that the water would start pooling into the cave; that it would fill up like a basin, whether they were in there or not, and it wasn’t until the screaming started that they realised they were in the kind of danger that required an adult.

Marc was the first one to get out, his hair soaked, his heart racing, and he used a grown up word he heard his dad use sometimes because he could have sworn they were both right behind him.

And if that had been true, then where were they?

He called her name, debated going back in there himself to see where they had gone, then he yelled for RoRo, because she didn’t seem to be answering.

And there was only silence, except a clap of thunder overhead that said the rain was going to get worse; was not going to stop for hours.

Which was when he ran to get his dad.

By the time Elias got there, his glasses wet and steamed, his thick thatch of curls too similar to Marc’s soaked through, all he could see was a head of hair peeking out of the mouth of the cave, and his heart sank.

He dragged her out of the dark water, arms under her shoulders as he rolled her on her front and started patting her back, trying to get her to spit some of the water out, because her face was ice and her skin was soaked and her playsuit was ripped from where she’d snagged it on the rocks.

Marc remembered crying into his hands, gaze flicking back to the cave to see if RoRo was right behind her, if he was just waiting to be pulled out as she had been.

But there was nothing. Nothing but rain water and moss and those damn rocks he’d been gripping onto not an hour earlier.

His heart leapt when she spluttered finally, after his dad had thrown her over his knee and taken to giving her a one handed heimlich right between her shoulder blades. She spat the water out, her body shivering immediately, eyes bleary as they looked around as if she expected to still be in that dark hole in the wall, and Elias set her down on the grass to go look for his youngest son.

“Stay with her, Marc,” He barked, uncharacteristically sharp for him though Marc guessed it was fear, and took off towards the cave again. Marc pulled her into his arms, and it was only then they started wailing together.

They sat there for an hour when the rescue team finally arrived, a medical team with warm hands and even warmer blankets ushering them to the safety of the back of an ambulance, and the last thing Marc remembered for that horrible day was sitting on the stretcher with her pressed against his side, trembling under the reflective wrap they’d been tucked in that made them look like baked potatoes, wishing he had never suggested they go in that damn cave.

–

“You’re leaving?” She said, her lip quivering, her eyes lined with tears. They sat on his bed, his duffel bag already packed, his acceptance letter burning daggers into his head from his nightstand, “Military? Marc, just think about this for a minute-”

“I have thought about it. I’m not some dumb kid making rash decisions, I want this,” Except he didn’t, not really. What he meant to say was he wanted to leave, to run away and never come back, but the idea of never seeing her again was too difficult to think about.

She thought about it for a moment, and he held her hand when he saw her face really start to crumble then. “If you go, I’ll have no one left. You’re all I have,”

He didn’t hide the fact he saw how nervous she was when Marc would pick her up from her house and her father would see her out the door, a nasty, inebriated glare in his eyes at the Specter boy. He saw all the times she would tiptoe around the floorboards, the way he knew too well, as if she was scared of what would happen if she took up too much space, made too much noise. Or when his mother had been kind, way back before any of this had happened, and had fussed over her pretty hair, had piled food on her plate because Wendy said she needed the goodness, she had locked up entirely and looked at his mother as if she was an alien.

Even now, when they were both seventeen, nearly adults in the grand scheme of things, he knew her father was cruel.

“I’m sorry,” He said honestly, and he felt his own throat clogging up with real emotion he only ever let himself show when he was with her, “When I get a place of my own, I’ll come back here, and we can pack your bags together, and we can live far away from all of this,”

And it sounded like he was spinning her a fantasy; which he was. She felt like an idiot for believing him, for flashing him a small smile and leaning her forehead to his which was the closest they ever got to admitting how they really felt about each other.

He wanted to kiss her then, before he left to start his new life, one where they could be happy together, and he made a promise to himself that when he came back for her that would be the first thing he would do.

He could see it now; he would be in some kind of flashy car with the top rolled down, a man grown from the regime and fitness they would teach him in the army and she would come running to him like an angel parting the clouds, like a dream that was finally within reach, and he would kiss her then, so hard it would make up for the time they had lost, the time they had grieved together, it might even make up for that day she nearly died because of him.

So he left her, that fantasy of coming back to her keeping him going in the months of training, during roll call and exams and the small, clinical portions they would serve him in the military.

But that day never came. Somewhere between losing himself to the alter that had formed and led a full life separately to his, between hiding Steven from the ugly truth and becoming a mercenary after dropping from the army, he tucked the dream away as a what if, and he didn’t return back to that house where his mother had caused so much hell.

Not until the second day of her shiva, that was.

“Marc?” He forgot how sweet his name sounded from her lips, and he hated to admit it in the middle of his drunken state, but he’d wished he’d never heard it again in his entire life.

Because the second his front door opened, and a woman in a long black dress, heels and lace gloves stared back at him with a face that looked similar to a girl he once knew, only a notch between her brows that said she had done nothing but frown for twenty years, he wished he had never seen her again.

She was beautiful, more beautiful than he ever gave her credit for, yet she looked tired. Sunken. Like she had wept and screamed alongside all the frowning.

“Marc,” She said it more determined this time, pacing down the stairs to his home, her footsteps rushed and worried, “Are you okay?,”

He knew he must look like a mess. He hadn’t stopped crying for three days since he got the first phone call from his father in almost two decades, since he’d learned his mother had passed, and he was already a bottle of whiskey deep by the time he’d stepped out the cab onto the street he grew up on.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought she would be there. He guessed she would be far away from this place, just like he had been, in a mansion with a 401k and a dog and a neurosurgeon for a husband. She had always deserved it.

But here she was, grabbing the bottle out of his hand gently, rubbing a hand over his shoulder like not a day had gone by that they hadn’t seen one another, and it didn’t take him much convincing at all to pull her into a hug he had needed since the day he left.

“My mum’s dead,” Marc said, sounding like a little boy again when he wept into her neck, squeezing her body to his, and he felt her rubbing his back soothingly.

“I know, Marc, I’m so sorry,” She hummed, and she smelled like a fancy floral perfume he couldn’t afford to give her before, “I know you must be feeling complicated,”

He nodded, because he couldn’t have put it better himself. He felt complicated.

“I missed you,” She said, like it was a confession, and he cried harder, his face burying into the crook of her shoulder.

“I missed you too,”

“How’s Steven? Is he still around?” She asked, pulling him away to root through her pocket for the pack of tissues she’d kept handy for the day. He took a deep breath, rubbing his sleeved arm over his face to dry it even the slightest. He could feel his cheeks sopping wet from where he had sobbed in the back of the cab like a madman all the way here.

But she was still fussing over him, and she looked just as pretty as he had remembered her, sitting on his bed that day, if not only a little more tired under her eyes.

Ofcourse she had known about Steven. How else was he supposed to explain the times they would be playing boyfriend-girlfriend together and he would become a different person.

Sometimes Steven would remember her too, because it didn’t matter to her who he was, she was his best friend either way. He remembered a girl who smelled like summer, sitting on the swings and eating ice lollies together, taking it in turns to push each other, blue tongued and happy.

“Yeah, sometimes,” He replied quietly, as she handed him the tissues, “He misses you, too,”

She smiled at him with her lips pressed tightly.

“I take it you’re not coming in?” She said in a careful tone, and he shook his head quickly.

“No- I just can’t,” He said, tears welling up in his eyes in seconds, and she wrapped him in another hug immediately, soothing his hurt as fast as it had bubbled back up.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, you don’t have to,” She hummed, stroking down his back gently, and he hugged her tightly as if she was the only thing keeping him together.

He opened his mouth to speak when his front door opened again, and he worried for a second that it was Elias.

Instead, he saw a girl no older than five emerge in a cute, poofy dress that met her knees, her hair tucked into a neat braid, lace gloves matching her own as she lingered at the doorway.

And perhaps the thing that struck him the quickest; she was the damn near double of the girl he’d hit in the head with his soccer ball in that very yard.

“Mommy,” The girl said in a gentle coo, her eyes empathetic as she met his gaze, more empathetic than he knew children could feel. But, he supposed, if she was her daughter then it didn’t surprise him in the slightest.

His best friend turned, her face smoothing out into something peaceful when she saw her little girl, and he knew then she was born to be a mother. Nothing like his own, nothing like Wendy, and he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner.

She was a mother.

“Yes, baby?” She said, half stepping towards her child as the girl stumbled down the first step towards them, and she was quick to swoop her into her grasp and onto her hip.

“I need to use the bathroom,” The girl said shyly, peeking a glance at him over her mum’s shoulder, and she waved at him with tiny fingers.

He waved back, even if the sight of her had dumped a bucket of cold water all over his body.

“Alright, baby. Just wait in the foyer, I’ll come take you in just a second, I’m just speaking to my friend right now,” She said, stroking over the back of the girl’s hair softly, and kissing her chubby cheek. “Is that okay?”

She nodded, and her mum kissed her once more, plopping her back on the top step to direct her back into the house. And they were alone again.

She looked at him guiltily, stepping back towards him as she fiddled with her sleeves nervously, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t get childcare and I don’t really know anyone in state anymore-”

“No, it-it’s fine,” He stammered, feeling her watching him for his reaction carefully, “What’s her name?”

“Dalilah,” She replied, rubbing hands up her arms to calm herself.

“Where’s her dad?” Marc asked, hoping he didn’t sound bitter, but the whiskey made it sound like a bite.

She shrugged, “He wanted the cars and the house when we split; I wanted her,” She said calmly, like it wasn’t one bomb after another to be dropped on him.

He knew nothing about her life. He had tried to run away from that promise he’d made her for twenty years, because he knew he would never be good enough for her; that he could never give her the happiness she deserved, even before he had become the Moon Knight.

At his core, he would rot her, ruin her. He would destroy her.

And yet hearing it was just the two of them alone, he felt like he could take out the piece of shit who ran out on them barehanded and go home to sleep next to her soundly.

He felt like perhaps, as much grief and anguish as returning back to that house had caused him, perhaps this was his second chance. His chance to be what she needed, to be something good.

He would be so good to them. He would give them everything if she asked.

“I’m not really in town much, especially with my dad still around,” She said, gesturing to where her yard still stood, full of junk and a dog that had supposedly been kicking strong for two decades, “But I would love to see you again. Lila has school most days so you’re free to come over any day of the week if you want it to be just us; I work at home,” She scribbled an address about two hours away down on a piece of paper, along with her phone number, handing it to his distraught face with a sad smile, somewhat hopeful he would take the olive branch she was shaking his way.

He took it with a nod, his bottom lip still trembling before he bit it hard enough to force it to stop. He would love to see her, if he would even allow himself something good. If he would just let go of the resentment for everything that reminded him of that time, he could see the two of them healing one another slowly, but surely.

She could fix him. And he could fix her. The way it had always been with them.

“Yeah, I’d love that,” Marc said softly, allowing her to grab him tightly one more time, “I really did miss you,”

She laughed, not properly more like a sad breath out, squeezing him to her, “I loved you so much. I never let you go, you know that?”

He tried not to sob, almost holding her so maddeningly hard she couldn’t ever leave.

But he had to let go eventually, and he watched her walk back up the stairs to where his family mourned, her face glinting with something hopeful, holding a flashlight out to him where he was walking around in the dark blindly.

He tried to smile back, though he knew it wouldn’t be the same, wouldn't be truly untouched by the grief he wallowed in.

And by the time he got back to his hotel room, alone, even more drunk, Khonshu had another job for him that would whisk him away for two weeks. But he kept her number, the piece of paper gripped in his hand tight, like he was determined to keep his promise this time around.

He dialled her number exactly fifteen days later, his body aching, his nose bloodied, but something lighter in his chest at the prospect of seeing her again. The light in his dark, the girl on the swings he’d once pretended to marry during their game of house (the rings had been tiny daisy chains she’d woven together just that morning, their officiant was Randall who could barely ride a bike let alone remember the vows he was supposed to say.)

Only when the phone got put through, a different woman answered, and the light flickered back out into something cold and dark and vengeful.

“Oh, oh god, you haven’t heard?” He swallowed thickly, “She was hit by a drunk driver last week picking Lila up from school,” The woman, her cousin, explained, her voice teary and solemn, and he didn’t doubt she’d had to make a thousand of these calls the past few days, “They said it was quick, and Lila went fast so she wasn’t in any pain- and she was only in the ambulance for ten minutes before her heart stopped so she wasn’t hurting long either-”

But he put the phone down, his eyes wide, his body numb, his chest empty and lonely.

Because the very last bit of good in him was gone; because everything he touched was cursed and tainted from the offset.

It took what felt like twenty cups of whiskey for him to black out that night, he knew sleep would evade him, he knew not to even bother trying. And Jake Lockely woke up for him, something mean and hateful in the black of his eyes.

He didn’t care who, but someone was going to pay for his cielo being taken from them.

#marc spector x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector fanfiction #moonknight x reader #marc spector imagine #moon knight x reader #moonknight imagine #jake lockely fanfiction #jake lockely x reader #steven grant imagine

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [18.7k] prompt: "Can I kiss you?" Childhood friends to lovers, growing up together, that damn garden gate, a slow burn like summer.

1979. Fever dream high in the quiet of the night.

When you were twelve years old, you moved to Hawkins, Indiana: population twelve thousand.

It had cedar lined streets, an old town hall, an outdoor pool behind a chain link fence, one supermarket and a boy next door called Steve Harrington.

You saw him from your bedroom window, his across from yours, the house your parents bought only a stone's throw away from his. He waved at you through the glass, smile wide, hair messy and wild. He had a scrape on his cheek from falling off his bike, a poster above his bed for a band you’d never heard of.

The next morning, he knocked on your front door and asked you if you wanted to go to the arcade with him. You rode on the back of his bike, hands clutching his shoulders, eyes bright and wide and Steve shared a slushie with you, tongues raspberry blue, cheeks sticky and sun kissed.

He taught you how to play pac man, hands already so much bigger than yours when he slid them over your own, joystick between your fingers, laughter bubbling in your chest when you won.

Steve came back the next morning, and the next, the days bleeding into one long summer in a new town that was all wheat fields and quarries, dust roads and white picket fences.

Then a year later, a week after your thirteenth birthday, you came home from your grandparents in the new dress your parents bought you, a pretty, sunflower yellow thing that fell to your knees and fluttered when you spun.

You ran straight to the Harrington’s house, one hand knocking impatiently on the door, the other holding the box of sugar cookies you had insisted on saving and taking home to Steve.

You weren’t sure when it had happened, not really. But at some point over the course of twelve months, Steve Harrington had become your best friend. It happened the way summer did, a slow roll into warmth and blue skies, the familiarity of seeing him every day, the same way the sun slipped through the cracks in your bedroom window shutters.

He was bike rides, fresh banana muffins from the bakery on Main Street, water balloon fights when you were supposed to be in bed, running in the back yard as your parents shared wine and barbecue dinners. He got taller, his hair got wilder and you both got closer.

Steve opened the door, smile wide, eyes bright, just for you. He took a cookie and your hand, leading you to his bedroom as his parents yelled out their greetings from the kitchen and you tumbled into his room, chest bursting with how happy you were ‘cause the entire car ride home, you had been so excited to see Steve.

Steve had too many pillows on his too big bed, a guitar in the corner, a basketball shirt in a frame above his desk. There were books lining shelves, a stereo on his dresser and towers of cassette tapes. His room always smelled like fresh air and boy, something minty, the summer sneaking in from his always open window, the chlorine from the pool below.

He’d turned to you then, eyes wide and cheeks blushing, taking in your bare shins with their new bruises, one from falling in your skates, the other from tripping outside the library. Steve was yet to turn fourteen but he decided then that yellow was his favourite colour, buttercup bright, that deep rich shade that was painted on your dress.

“You look like a princess,” he said earnestly, voice soft with embarrassment ‘cause Kyle from school said it wasn’t cool to be best friends with a girl.

Steve had told him to shut up, brows knitted together, cheeks blushing and he’d spent that rest of recess so confused, ‘cause the boy thought you were the coolest person he knew.

You flushed at his words, nose scrunched and you picked at the hem of your dress, dipping into a clumsy curtsy, the way all the Disney princess did on the tapes your mom let you watch.

“Thanks,” you beamed, all teeth and sore cheeks ‘cause Steve always made you smile real hard.

You felt nervous then, wondering where you and your yellow sundress fit into Steve’s room, but the moment broke, that unfamiliar jitter in your stomach disappeared Steve tugged you down onto his navy blue carpet, NES console beeping as it came to life and he handed you the extra controller, smile bright.

The day turned to night too quickly, the way it always did when you were with Steve, and soon enough the Harrington’s phone was ringing and Steve’s mom was yelling up the stairs, telling you it was time to go home for dinner.

Steve walked you out like he always did, shoulders touching as you both hurried down the stairs, eyes tired from the TV screen, fingers sticky from sugar cookies. The sun was just starting to set, the world outside was hazy and peach coloured, lavender clouds low in the sky and everything smelled like cut grass and your mom’s lemon trees.

Steve walked you to where his lawn met yours, the streets tired and empty ‘cause the summer heat was still lingering, making the air heavy and sweet. You watched as the boy chewed his lip, uncharacteristically nervous, backs of hands brushing as you walked across the grass, damp blades brushing your bare ankles and you wondered why your best friend's cheeks were so pink.

“Paul Matthews kissed Gemma Kennedy under the bleachers,” he suddenly blurted out, and you frowned, lips twisting.

“He did?” You asked, unsure of why this news was being shared. You didn’t like Paul Matthews, he was annoying and never gave anyone else a shot of the swings at recess. “What’d he say?”

Steve shrugged, all boyish and innocent. “He said it was kinda gross.”

“Gross,” you repeated, features scrunched. “Why’d Gemma wanna kiss him anyways? Paul smells like gym socks.”

Steve snorted, a shoulder bumping into yours. You could smell your dad’s pasta from the open kitchen window, the pop of a bottle being opened, soft music from one of your mom’s favourite bands.

“Do I smell like gym socks?” The boy asked, suddenly self conscious and you poked at his ribs, head shaking.

“No,” you told him earnestly, voice all quiet and sweet ‘cause it was like you were both the only two in Hawkins at that moment. “You smell nice. Like cookies and bubblegum.”

He grinned, too pleased with your assessment and before you hopped over the flowerbed that split your home with Steve’s, he caught your hand, palm a little clammy.

He murmured your name, voice shy and it made your tummy tumble in a way that you still didn’t understand, not properly, not yet.

You turned, eyes wide ‘cause you were both reaching an age where boys and girls didn’t really hold hands playing in the street anymore, and if they did, it meant something else. It made kids whisper in the playground, pass notes in the classroom and suddenly watching the older students kiss each other at their lockers didn’t seem as icky.

“Have you kissed anyone?” Steve asked you, voice laced with curiosity.

You flushed, heart raging, pulse picking up ‘cause you hadn’t and suddenly it felt like the most embarrassing thing in the world. But Steve still had his hand over yours and he squeezed your fingers a little tighter, and something about it felt so reassuring, like he’d keep every secret you gifted him.

“No.” A pause, a worry, a flutter of nerves. “Have you?”

Were you supposed to? Was a boy meant to like you now? Has Steve kissed a girl? Have you missed something monumental?

“No.”

Oh. A beat of silence that seemed to stretch an age.

“Can I kiss you?”

Oh.

“You wanna kiss me?” You asked, lashes blinking slow, mouth parted. You could taste the sugar cookies you’d shared with Steve still melting on your tongue. “Me?”

Steve stumbled over his words, cheeks flushed rose and he licked at his lips, unsure of what to say ‘cause Jesus Christ he was thirteen years old and had no idea what he was doing. But he remembered something that Paul had said to him, legs kicking as they sat on the swings together, sun beating down on their backs.

“Wish I had kissed Kimmy Cheng instead,” the boy had said, somewhat thoughtful, brows scrunched. “I really like Kimmy, maybe that would’ve made it better.”

It had made Steve think then, chewing at his cheek ‘cause the only girl he really liked was you, his best friend. You didn’t make him nervous, and when the movies you watched with him got too scary, you held his hand, face behind a pillow and he didn’t hate that. Not at all.

“I mean, I guess?” Steve mumbled and god, he didn’t understand why his stomach was flipping over, that same feeling he got when he decided he was gonna climb that old oak tree over by Fifth, the one that was too high, that had thick branches that swallowed the world below your feet. “Would be easier if our first kiss was with each other. Might be less embarrassin’, y’know?”

That made sense, you thought, ‘cause you really didn’t want another boy telling everyone your kisses were gross and Steve wouldn’t make fun of you if you were bad at it, would he?

“Okay.” You said decisively, and you took a deep breath, wondering why your heart was beating so fast, the same way it did when Steve went too fast on his bike, your fingers digging crescent moons into his shoulders, eyes tearing up at the whipping find, hair covering your face and his. “Now?”

“Now?” He repeated eyes wide and then he swore, quiet, ‘cause he wasn’t supposed to and his hand readjusted his grip on yours, palms clammy and fingers linking.

You hadn’t held hands like that before. It felt different, a little funny, closer.

But before you could comment on it, the boy was leading you between the two houses, the air warm and trapped between bricks and he opened his garden gate, feet clumsy as you both half ran down the skinny strip of yard at the side of his home.

It was overgrown there, the little hidden patch of long grass and wildflowers that grew underneath Steve’s bedroom window and it smelled like honeysuckle and lavender. You could hear the trickle of the pool, your mom’s music and the setting sun cut through the slats in the fences in stripes, lighting you both up with gold and bronze.

It smelled like summer, you decided, the perfect July day and when Steve spun to face you, you let out a noise of surprise. You were happy to notice that he seemed nervous too, teeth pulling at his bottom lip, hand tugging through his already wild hair.

But you were both hidden there, in the edges of the garden, stolen away from the rest of the town and out of sight of your parents. It felt like the biggest secret of all, one to lock away in the depths of your journal and this felt so much more than giving away the last cookie, more than backseat bike rides and a handmade friendship bracelet, more than sleepovers on Steve’s living room floor, heads touching when you fell asleep.

“What do we do?” you asked, nothing more than a soft whisper.

Steve shrugged, heart rattling against his ribcage and he licked his bottom lip and stumbled a little closer. The toes of his trainers touched your sandals and he was already a little taller than you but he blinked, gaze settling on you from underneath thick, dark lashes and you gulped.

“I don’t really know,” Steve murmured, hands flexing by his sides ‘cause he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to hold yours, or place them on your sides, your shoulders.

He shoved them in his pockets instead, hiding the way they shook a little with nerves and he gasped when you moved closer still, knees bumping clumsy against his own and he could count the freckles on your nose, and he wondered if they matched the ones on his skin, a present from long summer days outside.

“Will I just-?” Steve’s voice cracked and he flushed but you didn’t mention it, you didn’t laugh, you never did. “Should I?”

You weren’t sure what possessed you, maybe all the sugar you’d consumed, maybe it was the heat of sun on your shoulders, maybe it was the way your tummy was rolling with nerves and worry but you grasped at Steve’s shoulders, pushing yourself up onto your toes and pressed your lips to the boy’s without any sort of announcement.

Another gasp, warm skin, nails digging into arms, two pairs of eyes wide, noses bumping.

It lasted a few seconds, maybe less. But your lips were tingling when you pulled away, cheeks a new kind of hot and Steve looked a little shellshocked. You both rocked on your heels into the grass, too tall lavender brushing against your shins and then the boy smiled, a burst of sunshine in the shadows, and he looked delighted.

You were sure your ears were burning, the tips feeling hot and when you looked at Steves, you found his were pink too. You beamed, a nervous giggle, a laugh that got caught in your chest and when you heard your mom’s voice call from the back door - so close to where you were both still standing - you jumped, two kids trying not to be caught doing something they shouldn't.

The garden gate squeaked when you ran back through it, the hinges calling after you and you smelled like a bouquet of flowers as you ran across both lawns, feet tripping over your front porch as you ran inside.

Something pretty bloomed in between the spaces of your bones that day, when Steve Harrington decided that you were both going to be each other's first kiss. It stayed there, for so much longer than you thought it would. You’d always remember it as brown sugar and vanilla, lavender and honeysuckle, feeling brave, honey coloured eyes and complete and utter innocence.

1981. Devils roll their dice, angels roll their eyes, what doesn’t kill me makes me want you more.

You didn’t even want to go to the party, you didn’t even like Karen Vincent and you were damn sure she didn’t like you. You knew you were only invited because of Steve, a slip of pink paper passed to you after Karen and her friend Shauna slid between you and the boy at his locker, hands on his chest, on his arm.

You’d wrinkled your nose at it all, fingertips gripping the invite like a ticking time bomb but the girls had learnt the hard way that Steve wouldn’t show if you weren’t welcomed too.

It’s how you found yourself crammed into the Vincent’s basement with too many other fifteen year olds, the music making the walls vibrate, the punch bowl spiked with something that shouldn’t have been mixed with fruit juice and god, it was too warm.

It was just past ten o’clock and your parents wanted you home for eleven, which meant that, by default, that was Steve’s curfew too. You’d both been allowed to walk home on the condition that you stuck together and kept to the main roads, the summer months making the nights light enough that you could see both the sun and the moon in the sky, the clouds a hazy orange as they sunk into the horizon.

You’d spoke to a few kids you shared some classes with, avoided the snack table and its fizzing punch bowl, the concoction no longer the same colour it was when Karen’s mom poured it. And then there was a pop of a bottle cork, splashes of spilled liquid on the already sticky floors, some cheers and a circle was made.

Fuck.

“Seven minutes in heaven!” Yelled a boy you didn’t really know, some kid from the same basketball team as Steve, “let’s go losers!”

There was a symphony of wolf whistles and giggles as kids piled into the middle of the room, coffee tables and armchairs pushed out of the way in favour of a seat on the floor, knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder with their classmates, eyes wide and searching for their next possible date to the arcade.

“Harrington!” the same boy called out, “get in here!”

Steve appeared beside you, hand brushing gently on your elbow and you frowned without meaning to, wondering why it’d taken him so long to return from the bathroom. But then you saw Karen by his other side, lips glossy and smacking blue bubblegum, eyes sharp on you as she grinned.

“Are you playing Steve?” she asked, lashes blinking, voice coy.

You grimaced, already taking a step back from the ever growing circle. Someone was placing the now empty bottle in the middle and you eyed the closet door across the room like an old nemesis. Your stomach was twirling, and it wasn’t from all the pizza rolls but the smell of chocolate pretzels and red vines wasn’t helping.

But Steve’s hand curled around your arm, still gentle, but he could read you like a book. He tsked, his smile playful but eyes gentle, as if he could feel the nerves radiate off of you. Maybe he could, maybe he could hear the way your heart rattled inside your chest, louder than the music, deeper than the bass.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he admonished, crowding into you a little so he could find your ear with his mouth. He was so much taller than you now, the top of your head barely reaching his chin and you scowled, knowing what was coming. “Where you goin’ princess?”

“Home,” you told him stubbornly and you suddenly hated the way your denim skirt was sticking to your thighs, too constricting, too warm.

You heard him sigh, making a noise that only a best friend could, the sound of someone being done with your shit but loving you nonetheless. You moved backwards, hips bumping into the table that was piled high with empty red cups and the boy followed, a puppy at your feet, the same way it had been for three years now.

“Aw c’mon,” Steve groaned, “if you go home, I gotta leave too and you promised me you’d stay until curfew.”

You huffed, arms crossed protectively over your chest, ‘cause you hated the way people were starting to stare. They always did with you and Steve, especially when he touched you like, so casually, so gently.

“I can leave on my own, Steve, I’m a big girl.”

No you weren’t. You were fifteen and still scared of the dark after Steve made you watch Day Of The Dead when both of your parents were out late at the new Italian restaurant just outside of town.

But then, a poke to your arm, your cheek, the end of your nose. You swatted at him, hiding your smile between a press of your lips.

“You know my mom would kill me if I let you walk home alone,” he grumbled but it was soft, still gentle. “Fuck, your mom would kill me after.”

“You can’t be killed twice, stupid,” you said but it lacked heat, an excuse to say something other than agreeing to a game you didn’t wanna play.

He still knew you too well, scoffing at your evasion, hand curling warm around your wrist and pulling you back to the party, back to him, bodies bumping in a too close proximity that became more tense with every year that you got older.

It was becoming harder to ignore that your best friend was pretty. You were sure he’d wrinkle his nose at your choice of adjective but Steve grew up and missed the awkward stage, shoulders broad at the same time he grew a foot, wild hair becoming only a little tamer, more product in it and eyes still warm and brown, a new dimple in his cheek you loved to press your finger into.

You’d heard the other girls in your year call him hot, a total babe, whispered through giggles in the locker room. But your best friend still looked at you all soft, the same way he did before he gave you his first kiss and he took yours, pressed against the honeysuckle in his backyard. He teased gently, took your hand when the streets got too dark and you were both late for curfew, pressed a foot over yours under the dinner table when your mom started talking about test results and extra curriculars.

Steve was still your best friend. But he was really, really pretty.

“There he is! Harrington!” Another boy - Jake someone, from your English class - had forced his way through the crowd to clap a hand on each of your shoulders, pushing you both into the circle. “And you brought your princess, how ‘bout that, huh?”

You flushed, with both annoyance and embarrassment, ‘cause one day when you were all still twelve, Steve spotted you across the park, hands twisting around a basketball as he took in another new dress you wore and called you a princess again. It just so happened that his friends had heard it too.

His nickname for you never left, but neither did your classmate's memory of the incident.

And then Steve’s hand was ripped from your arm, bodies separating you both and he was manhandled to the one side of the circle, you to the other, shoulders squished between a boy and a girl you vaguely recognised from gym class, maybe biology too. It was warmer on the floor, heat and teenage hormones gathering sticky between too close bodies, the smell of cheap aftershave and someone’s mom’s perfume mixing with Kool-Aid and sprite.

“Okay so! You guys know the rules!” Karen was standing from her spot in the circle, suspiciously opposite to Steve, eyes wide and hands animated as she gestured to the closet door on the other side of the room. “Spin the bottle and whoever it lands on is all yours for a whole seven minutes.”

The group giggled, excitement rippling through the circle, bodies shuffling, overflowing cups spilling.

You panicked, scanning the line of faces until you found Steve’s, his eyes already on yours, knowing and soft. He was mouthing something to you, silent underneath the music and chatter.

“It’s okay.”

But then Jake was shoving a hand to Steve’s shoulder, urging him into the middle of the circle with a raucous cheer that only teenage boys could make, the rest of the basketball team joining in and Steve bowed his head, lips twisting into an almost smile that he couldn’t really hide.

You watched as every girl perked up like a meerkat, backs straight, hair twisted around fingers, elbows digging into competitors that tried to make their space in the circle more known.

Your stomach rolled again and it only got worse when Steve spun the bottle and the glass flashed green in the centre, bodies bowing forward to see where it would land.

It sounded like you were underwater, excited voices and yells sounding far away, dulled with the thump of the music. The bottle had spun and spun and spun, landing on you with such precise finality that Karen audibly groaned.

You looked up, Steve’s eyes wide on yours, lips parted and cheeks pink. Before either of you could speak, before you could shake your head or grab your jacket from the sofa and run up the basement stairs, your hand was grabbed by Jake, lips stretched wide and voice booming.

“King Steve and the princess!” He cheered and his excitement was echoed by your classmates, hollers and whoops following you as the boy grabbed Steve with his other hand and the three of you were tripping over stretched legs and forgotten bottles, heading for that fucking closet door.

“Wait!” You said, voice sharp and god, you could hear the panic there.

You couldn’t kiss Steve. You didn’t want to kiss Steve. You shouldn’t kiss Steve.

But Jake ignored you and the music was turned up a little louder again as the rest of the party lounged on their spaces on the floor, heads turned and tilted to watch you both with interest, and your arms only found Steve’s chest when the door was yanked open and a few sets of strange hands shoved you both in.

The door closed, a gust of air, a click, the muffled sounds of the party locked away behind wood. It was dark, musty and your foot hit a shoe rack, your back against a bundle of winter coats that had been retired for the summer.

“M’sorry,” Steve whispered and you knew he was referring to making you stay. You could’ve been half way home by now, trainers scuffing the edges of the sidewalk, fresh air kissing your cheeks. “Didn’t think it would land on you.”

You grunted an unladylike response as your eyes adjusted to the low light, a sliver of warm white coming in from the cracks on the door hinges, letting you see the way the boy was looking at you guiltily.

“Whatever,” you grumbled ‘cause you really didn’t want to kiss your best friend but you hated the way Steve sounded disappointed at the idea.

You weren’t sure how long you could keep lying to yourself, but you were certain you had another few years in you.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he said, voice still soft, as if anyone outside of the closet could possibly hear the music and yelling. “S’not like we have to kiss.”

You snorted, chest sore in a way that felt like rejection and you hated how it stung. You looked at Steve, his eyes still on you as he shoved a hand into his jeans pocket, another raking through his hair in a way you knew all too well. He was nervous, agitated.

“Sorry I’m not Karen Vincent,” you snarked and god, you hated the way you sounded jealous, you hated the way the words burned your tongue but Steve didn’t pick up on it. There was nothing to pick up. “Promise this wasn’t some sort of elaborate cockblocking plan.”

It was Steve’s turn to laugh, a huff of air that hit your cheek ‘cause he was so close and he was all cheap beer, gummy worms and hair gel.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” the boy mumbled but there was a teasing to his voice, a not so serious lilt.

You pressed your fist into his arm anyway, a hardly there punch that packed no heat and he poked his finger into your side in retaliation. You swatted at him, glaring ‘cause he knew you were ticklish and all the movement sent an empty shoe box hurtling down from a shelf above you both.

“I do not cockblock you,” you pouted, almost offended.

“Not on purpose.” Steve snorted, “Took me all of freshman year to get everyone to believe you weren’t my girlfriend.”

You scrunched your nose at the memory of it, boy’s catcalling you from afar, whispers when you and Steve walked to school together every morning, the unappreciative glares from the girls who wanted him instead.

“Whatever,” you mumbled again. “How long left?”

“It’s only been like, a minute, jeez, that bad being stuck with me princess?” Steve’s voice was teasing and his hand snuck out to grab at your waist again, touch familiar, but his fingers were tickling, poking gently at the spaces between your ribs and you wriggled against him, knees bumping off of skis and old bikes.

“Yes,” you lied and the boy knew, ‘cause you could see the way the light through the crack lit up the curve of his grin.

“Besides, we’ve kissed before,” Steve suddenly said, cautious and soft. His hand was still on you, cupping your elbow to hold you near and it slid down to grasp your wrist. He shrugged, eyes on the floor. “Remember?”

You warmed at the memory, wondering why on earth Steve had to bring it up now when you had both never mentioned it since.

“Of course I do,” you huffed, hating the way you sounded bothered. “It wasn’t that long ago. And it hardly even counted.”

Steve scowled, his hurt puppy expression painted across his features. Big, brown eyes set you in place with a stare. “It did so count,” he grumbled, “you were my first kiss.”

“And you were mine,” you fired back, as if this was suddenly an argument that you had to win. Steve always let you win.

“Have you kissed anyone else?” His voice was full of curiosity, void of any embarrassment, not like the way you felt when he asked you such questions.

It made you flush, eyes wide and lips parting, as if you weren’t supposed to say, as if you weren’t supposed to let him know. Steve had told you about his kiss with Lucy Greeves, behind the bike shed, a few months back.

He’d told you it was wet and she tasted like the chocolate milk she’d had at lunch. You remembered how he’d thrown himself into your pile of teddies and pillows at the foot of your bed, expression thoughtful as he told you he didn’t really like chocolate milk all that much.

Then there was Samantha Duncan the year before, a game of truth or dare at the skatepark when the sun started to set and your curfews got a little later. You didn’t watch when Steve leaned into the middle of the circle, friends giggling as he pressed his lips quick to the other girls.

“Just Miles Campbell,” you muttered, gaze lowered and set on the floor because you could feel the mischief bristle off of the boy as you spoke.

“Miles Campbell?!” He crowed, voice boisterous and no longer quiet. “He’s a giant, what did you do, climb a step ladder- ow!”

You pushed at Steve’s shoulder, face aflame. “Shut up! If you have to know, Harrington, we were sitting down.” You sounded haughty, but you didn’t care, ‘cause the boy was still laughing.

Steve settled down, a dopey smile just on his lips and despite his teasing, his eyes were fond. Your sides bumped as he shifted, too close and not enough space in the small closet and you were so, so aware that your gaze was level with the bottom half of his face.

His lips looked really soft.

“Was he a good kisser?”

“Why d’you wanna know?”

He shrugged.

“Thinking about asking him out?” You smirked. “Don’t think you're his type, Stevie.”

“Shut up.”

There was a knock on the door, a sudden sharp sound that had you both jumping apart and you weren’t even sure when you had wandered that close.

“Five minutes left, lovebirds!” Jake, voice muffled by the door and the music, called out, sounding way too pleased.

Steve stared at the door, bottom lip tucked between his teeth and you knew he was thinking about something. He only hesitated a little before he knocked a foot into yours, catching your gaze and he spoke as if he wanted to get the words out fast, before he could stop himself.

“Was he, though?” Steve asked again, voice quieter this time, almost unsure. He looked nervous, “Miles?”

You stared at him, maybe for a beat too long ‘cause the tips of his ears were turning red and he coughed, a little awkward. You made the same strangled noise, shoulders shrugging.

“I mean, sure,” you whispered, “I guess? He was… it was fine.”

You weren’t overly sure if the darkness was playing tricks on you or not, but you could’ve sworn you saw the boy smile.

“He tried to stick his tongue in my mouth,” you continued, face warm from embarrassment, ‘cause you suddenly felt like you were sharing too much, even with Steve. “It felt weird, like a dead fish. I didn’t really know what to do.”

“You’ve never made out with someone?” Steve asked and god, you were almost positive he was the only person who could’ve asked you that question without sounding like he was making fun of you. His voice was soft, all fond affection for you that he’d collected over the years and he moved closer, toes touching yours like he knew exactly how to handle you. “Kissed someone like that before?”

“That was the first time,” you squirmed under his gaze, feeling much younger than you were. Were you supposed to have that much experience in making out with someone at fifteen? Did Steve? “I don’t really know if I did it right.”

“Oh,” he breathed and he didn’t sound like he was judging you at all. There was another slow silence, warm and not at all uncomfortable because it was still Steve, and it wrapped around you both like a question. “I could show you. If you wanted.”

The music bled underneath the gap in the door, vibrated against your skin and the drums made your heart drop and stop, thundering to the beat quickly after. You were sure it was the music. You were positive it was the music.

But then Steve mistook your silence for hesitation, a silent ‘no’ and he was already opening his mouth to cover his tracks, to take back the statement, to tell you he was stupid, that he was only kidding.

“I didn’t mean-, we don’t have to… shit, I-”

Four minutes left.

“Okay.”

You could hear the rush of your blood in your ears, skin warm, cheeks hot, tongue sneaking out to peek between your lips and you wondered if he’d still be able to taste the lipgloss you put on before you left the house.

“What?”

“Show me.”

He took a step towards you and you watched as the boy tried to keep cool but his ever expressive face gave him away, brown eyes all wide, jaw a little slack and his hand found your waist, a sliver of skin between your shirt and skirt, a place he’d not really touched before.

“Is this alright?” His voice cracked, and he blushed but you didn’t laugh. You never laughed, but you did nod. “Just do what I do, ‘kay? Can I kiss you?”

Was it really that simple, you wondered? But you didn’t get a lot of time to think it over, because as soon as you nodded, Steve was crowding into you more, pressing you into the coats and you still had to press up on your toes to let his mouth meet yours.

It was so different from last time and it was almost the same.

Steve Harrington still tasted like sugar and vanilla, hidden under cheap beer and you gasped when his lips touched yours, the same way you did when you were thirteen. But your hands grasped at his neck, steadying yourself, and he clutched at your waist to help, as if you had both gotten a little older and suddenly knew where to touch.

His mouth was soft over yours, a little hesitant at first, but then coaxing. Your lips slid over his once, twice, three times and then you felt the soft lick of his tongue at the seam of your lips and you remembered the way he’d told you to copy him.

So you did.

Your tongue touched his and your breath hitched with how nice it felt and the kiss moved soft and slow. You grabbed Steve a little harder, body swaying into his in the dark ‘cause your stomach was swooping and your heart was hammering and it felt like you were on the front seat of a rollercoaster, hanging off the edge.

Maybe Steve felt the same way, despite having more experience, because he gripped you the same way, fingernails leaving little half moon marks on your hips.

It felt strange, it felt good, it felt warm and it made everything tingle, breath stuck in your throat and a sigh leaving your chest and you felt like you should’ve been embarrassed. But you weren’t, because it was Steve.

But then voices outside were counting down from ten and they got louder and louder, hands hammering on the door and you both ripped apart before the door swung open, harsh strip lights and the smell of artificial strawberry and natty light swimming back into the closet with you.

The walk home wasn’t as awkward as it should’ve been considering you and your best friend had had your tongues in each other's mouths. Maybe it’s ‘cause you were still too young, maybe it was because you didn’t realise it yet, but there wasn’t much about yours and Steve’s friendship that would ever be awkward.

So you followed the yellow lines on the edge of the road home, footsteps a little behind Steve’s and every now and then, the boy would look back over his shoulder to make sure you were still there. It smelled like nighttime and summer and everything you associated with the boy, damp grass and leftover smoke from someone's barbecue, chlorine from the pools and you could hear sprinklers in backyards, hissing in the still warm air.

You were a little late, just over curfew and the television was making your living room glow, the flicker of light coming out from the window. So Steve took your hand and led you through the back garden gate, pool lights leading you both to your patio doors, the rest of the house dark and you could smell lavender and honeysuckle from Steve’s yard.

He helped you find the key to the door, the spare hidden in a plant pot filled with pebbles and moss, one lone rose sprouting from the dirt. Both of your hands fumbled together as your fingers touched, all sudden pink cheeks and lowered gazes and Steve whispered a ‘good night, princess,’ before sneaking back down the lane, hopping over the lower part of the fence and into his own yard.

By the time you had tiptoed upstairs, past your dad who was dozing in the living room arm chair, Steve was in his room, bedroom window across from yours and the lights were still on as he lounged on his bed, shirt off and a baseball clutched in his fist.

He was throwing it from his hand, watching it fall up and down in the air before catching it again, one arm thrown underneath his head and you couldn’t help but gaze at the muscles there, all new and never really seen before.

You swallowed, suddenly too warm, the heat from the day trapped in your bedroom and sticking to your skin but you didn’t want to open the window, you didn’t want to alert the boy to your staring. You and Steve had spent nights, weeks, months and years hanging out from the sills, talking over the trailing ivy and flowers and growing below.

But this felt like something you shouldn't have been doing, especially since you could still taste him on your lips, feel where his hands had burned against your sides, so you pulled your curtains and trapped all these brand new thoughts inside your room with you.

You took them to bed, slipped between the sheets with them and everything smelled like brown sugar and honey, gummy bears and Steve Harrington.

1984. Killing me slow, out the window, I’ll always be waiting for you to be waiting below.

“Princess, c’mon, every time.”

Steve’s voice was exasperated, laced with something softer and it made swinging your leg over your bedroom window sill a little easier.

You peered down at him, long grass brushing his shins ‘cause no one but you two used that little path that took you out of the back garden gate. He was gazing back up, setting sun brushing his face with gold and caramel, peachy pink clouds in the sky and Steve held his arms out, beckoning.

“You’ll catch me?” You murmured, still unsure, despite this being a well practised escape.

“Don’t I always?” the boy scoffed, almost offended, but the small edge below your window didn’t offer a lot of footing and you swore the drainpipe was becoming more loose than it used to be.

“Harrington, I swear,” the threat was empty and it fell idle on your lips when you pushed yourself over the edge, hands gripping at the window frame and feet finding their footing.

“Don’t second name me,” Steve grumbled and you sensed him moving closer, buttercups and daisy crushed under his sneakers as he kept his arms outstretched towards you. “You good?”

You mumbled some noise of confirmation, knees bent and ready to drop. You hated this part, and weirdly, it got harder as you got older, limbs stretched, body heavier, no longer small and quick to scramble up tree branches and out of windows.

“Steve?” You couldn’t really see behind you, the soft summer breeze picking at your hair and blocking your view of the ground below but you lowered yourself as much as you could, fingers too warm and slipping against the window frame.

“Yeah, I’ve got you.”

So you let go, the short drop softened by the boy’s hand catching at your waist and pulling you against him, your back to his front and he held you there, ankles swishing in the damp grass.

Steve was all hard muscle and cologne, arms stronger than they had ever been, tanned from the summer and wrapped tight around you, hands pressed into the skin underneath your breasts. He let you go when you found your feet, white chucks soaked by the evening dew and you blew out a breath and set the boy with a stare.

“We have front doors, you know,” you watched him grin at you, wide and bright and so familiar. “Why do we have to do this?”

“S’more fun,” the boy answered and he landed a firm smack to your ass when you bent over, fingers tugging at your laces. “Nice shorts princess.”

“Fuck you,” you squeaked, cheeks warm and you reached out to do the same, plan connecting with the denim of his jeans and Steve laughed before groaning a little dirty and exaggerated. “You’re such a dick.”

He spun you both, feet leading you backwards towards the garden gate, clumsy between the flowers and he grinned, wolfishly.

“You know I love it when you talk dirty.”

“Steve,” you tried to sound huffy, as if you weren’t impressed by his jokes but you sounded flustered instead and you hated how the boy knew it.

But he never said anything, never commented on the flush across your chest or the way your tongue snuck out to wet at your lips, he never poked fun. He just always watched with knowing eyes and a soft smile you could never discern, and kept on teasing you.

“Y’know it’s better if my dad doesn’t see me leave,” he finally answered, fingers bullying the lock, almost rusted shut from years of only being used by both of you. “I get asked too many questions and I give answers he doesn’t like and suddenly I’m back in my room filling out fuckin’ college applications for the eighteenth day in a row.“

A pang of sympathy hit your chest and before you could tell your friend that you understood, you sympathised, he was placing a warm hand on the space between your shorts and your shirt, guiding you out the gate.

“Doesn’t mean I have to do the same,” you grumbled good naturedly, “I could meet you out front like a normal person.”

“Fuck off, we both know you love jumping into my arms as much as I love catching you.”

You couldn’t remember when you started flirting with your best friend, or when he started flirting with you. You couldn’t pick a place or time when it began, or who did it first. But you were both eighteen and more appreciative of all the strong lines and muscles, the soft curves and different ways you looked at each other.

It would be a comment, a sly remark, a hand touching too close to areas yet to be discovered, a wink, a hug that went on for a beat too long.

Nothing had happened, not really, not since the closet at Karen Vincent’s party, but everyone at school called you Steve Harrington’s girl and the boys you hooked up with in the backs of cars always pulled away mid kiss to ask if you were definitely single.

It was all fun and teasing, familiar touches with a familiar boy, sprawled together in the same bed you’d shared with him since you were twelve years old. Except now there wasn’t as much space between you both, limbs longer, bodies taller, leftover alcohol soaking into your heads in the mornings that you woke up wrapped around each other.

You would pretend you didn’t feel how hard he was, morning wood pressed into the small of your back, the curve of your ass and Steve wouldn’t comment when your shirt had rucked itself up your ribs in the middle of the night, too much showing to be decent.

It was enough to keep you both on your toes, the close friendship teetering over the question of what if? Could we? Should we? Will we?

Steve didn’t hide the way he looked at you, affection always strong in his brown eyes, hands soft and face fond when he picked a wildflower off the garden wall, tucking it behind your ear but there was always a linger over your bare legs, the way the hem of your shorts cut high on your thighs, the way they pinched in at your waist and made your shirt ride up your ribs.

The roller rink was busy as expected, ten o’clock on a Saturday night and filled with teenagers looking for something and someone to do. The kids of the day had long left and the lights were dimmer, the whole hall darker with flashes of red and aquamarine, bubble gum pink and candied lilac that flashed across the floor and faces.

The disco ball twisted in the middle and it sent rainbows and reflections across the walls, painted Steve’s face in technicolour and you gave his cheek a little pat as you took off, wheels spinning you backwards, music thumping in your chest.

He smiled at you, knowing, brows raised as he took a seat on the tables that lined the roller rink, crowded by the friends you’d found from school, flasks pulled from pockets, clear liquid dumped into red and blue slurpees.

“Where you goin’ princess?”

You did a little spin, already warm from the sticky air, summer leaking in and slipping between the people skating and dancing, bodies too close. Your foot found the rink, hands leaning on the barrier wall as you sent Steve a wink, your cherry glossed lips widening in a smile that was borderline salacious.

“To find someone to play with.”

The boys surrounding Steve whooped and hollered, cat calls ringing out underneath the music and you could hear the comments directed to Steve, playful intones about how his girl was nothin’ but trouble, and wasn’t he gonna get a pretty thing like you locked down?

But Steve just shook his head at you, playful and exasperated, while he leant back on the bench, waving away his friends remarks with quiet whatever’s and it’s not like that.

He had nothing to say when you dropped yourself into his lap half an hour later, body warm from skating, face flushed and eyes a little too wide and bright.

He ignored the whistles from his friends, the knowing glances, the nudges to ribs. ‘Cause you were wrapping your hands around his neck, fingers playing with his hair and your lips were at his ear.

“There’s some creep followin’ me around,” you whispered, body tense and Steve’s hands, where they’d dropped to on instinct when you sat on him, tightened on the space above your knee.

“Who?” Steve asked immediately, voice low and it rumbled through you, you could feel it in his chest and his eyes were scanning the crowds, brows pinched together.

You didn’t look, didn’t turn away from where you’d pressed your nose to his temple, breathing in his cologne, his shampoo, something minty and like the forest. You caught Candance Peterson’s eye from over Steve’s head and you ignored the way she smirked at you.

“By the lockers,” you murmured and your breath hitched just a little when Steve wrapped one arm around you, holding you closer to the other hand sliding it’s way between your bare legs, fingers curled around your thigh possessively. “Red shirt, bad hair.”

Steve snickered ‘cause he found him, a guy with an overgrown mullet and beady eyes, hanging by the lockers and benches. He was staring at you, watching the way you draped yourself over your best friend and Steve raised a hand, wiggling his fingers to show that he’d seen him.

“He didn’t try anythin’, did he?”

You shook your head, tip of your nose brushing against Steve’s cheek ‘cause you refused to move any further away and you knew the boy didn’t mind. His hand was back on your leg, thumb stoking circles on the inside of your thigh and it took everything you had not to squirm in his lap.

“Nah, just asked too many questions, told me he was wondering why a ‘pretty little girl’ like me wasn’t with her boyfriend,” you scrunched your face as you spoke, lips twisted. “Told him that my boyfriend was right over here.”

It wasn’t the first time you or Steve had used each other to slip away from some unwanted attention. Steve was just tall enough, just broad enough to warrant a second glance, too drunk boys weighing up their options when you snuck under your best friend's arm, wondering if they could take him.

They usually gave up, watching with a sneer as your pressed your body into Steve’s, his hands taking advantage of your little role play game and he’d let his palm take a slow wander over the curve of your ass, a tight squeeze, a light tap and you’d dig your fingers into the spaces between his ribs for it, his laugh huffing guilty onto your neck.

You found that you could be just as intimidating, Steve seeking you out at parties when girls from out of town got a little too much, a little too eager and kept trying to touch the hair that he spent too much fucking time styling. The boy would sneak up behind you, arms around your waist as he pulled you back against him and used you as the cutest human shield he’d ever seen.

The sight of you in Steve’s arms usually stopped his admirers in their tracks, his lips pressed to the top of your head, smile hidden in your hair as you set them with a look that Steve said could make grown men cry. .

“Oh you did, did you?” Steve drawled, “did you tell him I was the prettiest one out of the bunch?”

You snorted, a sound that always made Steve grin and you loved the way his arms tightened around you. Your position on his knees gave you an inch or two of height on him, a little taller, just for a change. You pulled back enough so you could gaze down at him, lashes lowered and face overly thoughtful.

“I don’t know, Stevie,” you pondered, all faux heavy sighs, teasing and fluttering lashes. “Danny’s starting to look real cute since joining the team-”

“You shut your damn mouth,” Steve interrupted, voice huffy but he was still smiling despite himself. He took a second to watch the way a refraction of light from the disco ball travelled over your cheek, lighting up the new summer freckles there before it dipped into your Cupid’s bow. He cleared his throat, suddenly shy. “We both know you think I’m the hottest guy he- oh, shit. Your friend is coming over.”

“What?” You barked out and your voice sounded strangled. You turned to see that Steve was right, the guy in the red shirt was making his way through the gathering crowds, weaving through the busy tables towards you both, his gaze set on you and another question posed on his lips. “Oh, Jesus Christ.”

Steve was already shifting underneath you, arms hooking under the backs of your knees and you knew he was ready to deposit you on the chair next to him, eyes searching for a fight.

“Can I kiss you?” You asked instead.

“Shit, what?” The boy’s response was garbled, words tumbling over each other as he stopped his movements and looked at you wide eyed. “Princess-”

You sighed, impatient, a hand clutching at Steve’s chin, tilting his face up to you so you could catch his gaze, the question asked again with just your eyes. A silent exchange, a secret language only you two knew. You watched his tongue swipe over his bottom lip, eyes heavy, dropping to your mouth and you waited, a second, maybe two and then fuck, he nodded, barely perceptible.

You crushed your lips to his, swallowed the moan that Steve immediately gifted you, fingers pushing into his jaw and sighing at the way his hand on your back dropped to the waistband of your shorts, fingertips desperately seeking the warmth of your bare skin.

It was different to the kisses you had shared before, ‘cause fuck, now you both knew what you were doing and you had almost as much experience under your belt as Steve had. You knew boys liked it when you got a little bossy, hands on their jaw and thumb on their bottom lip, telling them to part their lips for you. You knew they liked it when you sighed all sweet and pretty, hips squirming in their hands, fingers pulling at their hair. They told you that you tasted like cherries, something sweet and tart and like dirty secrets.

Steve seemed to like it too, ‘cause his tongue was sweeping past your lips, kissing you dirtier than he should’ve for such a public setting and you could hear your friends rippling in excitement around you.

You pushed your thumb to the corner of Steve’s mouth and he obeyed like you thought he would, parting his lips between yours and groaning into you. It was all teeth and tongue, hot hands on bare skin, hair between fingers, threading and pulling and you wondered how you could still taste vanilla, hidden in his lips underneath blue raspberry slush.

You liked the way he held you to him, a little too tight, a little more possessive than he’d ever been with you before. Because growing up with Steve Harrington was all protective hands, glares sent to boys who deemed not good enough, rides home from work and gentle hands taking that one drink too many from you at parties that went on too late.

This was different, this was personal, this was a touch that screamed mine mine mine and it kinda hated the way you knew you’d think about it later, back flat in your bed, sheets kicked to your ankles and your hand pushed down the front of your shorts.

Maybe Steve would do the same you thought, maybe he already had, you wondered. And images of Steve with his hand flat to the shower tiles flashed through your head, body wet, hair soaked, lips parted and his other palm fisting himself to the thought of you.

It was suddenly too much and you needed air more than you needed Steve. Your lips left his and the sounds of the rink came rushing back, like you’d pushed your head out from underwater. There was suddenly music, the score of wheels on wood, the siren of a pinball machine, ice clattering into cups from behind the bar.

Someone amongst the group let out one, long whistle and people tittered and god, it should’ve made you blush.

It should’ve.

It didn’t.

You simply stood from Steve’s lap, his hands still on your waist and guiding you to your feet until you could push your hair back from your warm cheeks, feeling only slightly scandalised when your friends all started but you kept your eyes on the boy.

You licked the taste of him from your lips, raspberry and sugar and something that you were now beginning to learn was just Steve. His cheeks were tinted pink, lips glossy from yours and his brown eyes were considerably darker, his finger trailing away from yours in a way that made you think he didn’t wanna let go.

But you cleared your throat the same time he did, only a little wobbly on the eight wheels that held you up and he grinned when you coughed out a laugh.

“That worked,” you told him, watching as the guy with the bad hair swung the door open, leaving without looking back.

“Huh,” Steve murmured, “how ‘bout that.”

—————

He didn’t say anything when the lights started turning back on, when the disco ball stopped spinning and people handed back their skates. Steve just found you on the benches, pressed shoulder to shoulder with your friends and he caught your eye from the door, another secret conversation that started with a quirk of a brow and ended with a tilt of a chin.

You said your goodbyes and followed the boy out the building, watching as Steve placed his hand behind his back, encouraging you to catch up and grab it. You held hands across the empty parking lot, fingers twisting and playing together until you hit the main road and it was normal, it was familiar, it was Steve.

He decided he was staying with you that night, mumbling an excuse about not facing his dad in the morning, how your bed was comfier and your mom made the best waffles but you didn’t need any convincing.

So you snuck into your house, unnecessarily quiet ‘cause your dad was still up watching TV and your mom was in the kitchen with a glass of wine and a book and they barely looked at the boy who was following you up to your bedroom, nothing more than a “night, kids,” called out into the hallway.

You lay side by side with the boy, half dressed and with too much bare skin on show, Steve’s shirt on the floor, your shorts almost indecent around your thighs.

It was the first time you thought that something else might happen, legs brushing against legs and hips bumping together as you tried to get comfortable, the burn of the others lips still on your own.

But nothing did and you were starting to wonder if anything ever would.

1985. And it’s new, the shape of your body.

It didn’t matter that it had been a Wednesday, it was the first day in weeks that you and Steve had managed to get the day off together and you were both planning on making the most of it.

It’s why the boy woke you up early, a rucksack already in his hand as he walked through your patio door, left open for that very reason, the rest of the house empty as your parents went to work.

You’d been surprised at how softly he’d woken you up, fingers prodding gently at the cheek that wasn’t smushed against your pillow, eyes hidden with sleep mussed hair and one leg bare and kicked out from beneath the sheets. He grinned when you grumbled and he took your sleep warmed spot when you finally dragged yourself out of bed and into a shower.

Steve barely looked away when you reappeared in just a towel, almost too short to be decent and when you turned to your dresser to pull out a swimsuit and clothes, his eyes dipped to the backs of your legs, thighs on show, tanned from the August sun, a small freckle there he’d never seen before.

“You said you were gonna set an alarm, princess,” Steve teased, head pushed back into your favourite pillow and if he realised it smelled like your shampoo and peach scented body wash, he didn’t say. “Clock’s ticking.”

“Jesus, give me peace, Harrington,” you grumbled, voice still thick with sleep and the summer air was slipping through your open window and it made you move slower than you wanted to. “Turn around.”

Steve did as he was told, face crushed into your sheets and a grin on his lips ‘cause he heard the soft thump of your towel hitting the floor, the shuffle of clothes sliding across your skin. He knew you were winding him up, taking that little game you both blamed to a new level, another limit, because there was no fucking way a girl that looked the way you did, didn’t know what she was doing.

Steve heard the snap of a bikini strap, the rasp of denim shorts over long legs and when you told him he could look once more, he turned around in time to see a flash of cherry red, a swimsuit that hid little, covered by the way you pulled a white shirt over your head.

You pushed a pair of Ray Bans onto your nose, a little too big and stolen from Steve a few summers before. You grinned, knowing, and held out a hand.

“C’mon pretty boy, let’s go.”

Steve took the car, drove it to the outskirts of town with the windows cracked, the summer air blowing in sticky and sweet. You had your feet on the dash, a new bracelet around your ankle, woven with blue and orange thread, a matching one around Steve’s wrist that he tried to protest at but his words were weak and his smile was bright.

He let you pick the song, cassettes spilling out of the glove compartment as you tried to find the perfect mix for a day like this. There wasn’t a cloud above Hawkins and when you drove past the Burick’s farm, the sunflowers were in full bloom, making the world that flashed past your window bright yellow and the strawberry paddocks made everything smell sweet.

The roads were quiet and the air still, and you couldn’t see another soul as Steve parked up on the roadside, a dirt corner off of the road leading out of town. You both walked into the wheat fields, long grass towering to your waists as you headed for the tree line. The crops brushed your bare legs, scratched softly against your skin and you could feel Steve behind you the whole time, eyes on you, anticipation growing, warming you like the sun.

When he ran, you did too, feet a little clumsy and neither of you could see where you were stepping but the peels of laughter made it worth it, the rush of the summer air on your face made it better. You chased after the boy, bag slamming on his back, eyes glancing back at you, looking like the twelve year old with the wild hair you once knew.

Steve didn’t stop running until he hit the patch of trees, legs slowing as the branches became thicker and you slammed into his back with a soft ‘oof,’ cheeks sore from grinning and neither of you thought much of it when the boy took your hand and led you through the thickets.

The trees cleared just before the cliff dropped off, the quarry vast and a pretty green-blue underneath you. The spot was secluded, familiar to you both and a well guarded secret that was kept over the years. You came every summer, secret visits that were just for you and Steve.

You’d been waiting for a day like this for what felt like months. The height of summer, blue skies, the distant buzz of cicadas and your best friend, all to yourself.

Something told you that Steve felt the same, ‘cause when you chanced a sideways look at him, he was already gazing back, soft smile on his face.c eyes all fond and it made the day seem even warmer.

It didn’t take long for you both to be stripped to your swimsuits, Steve’s eyes blatantly staring as you slipped the denim shorts down your hips and pulled them down your legs. He didn’t say anything when you stretched yourself out on the blanket beside him, pebbles and grass underneath, the sun beating down from above.

You liked the way he didn’t shy from you, not like the other boys, like he knew he was yours and you were his, like there wasn’t anyone else to worry about. So neither of you flinched when you pressed yourself to his side, warm bare skin on more warm bare skin, shoulder to shoulder and your feet just reaching where his shins were.

You tapped a toe to them, snuck a peek at the boy beside you, grinning when you saw him smile despite his closed eyes. His lashes fluttered from behind his sunglasses, waiting for the inevitable.

“Hey, Stevie?”

Something in his tummy clenched at the old nickname, usually said with mirth and drag of sarcasm, but your lips were at the shell of his ear and you sounded so soft.

“Princess.” His voice didn’t hitch at the end like a question, it stayed low, a little hoarse, like a warning.

‘Cause you were propped onto a elbow now, body leaning into him, your hardly concealed chest pressed into his bicep and he could feel the tickle of your hair on his arm, against his cheek and you were still so close that he could feel the way you smirked against his ear.

You pushed the button on your nose to his temple, a head butt that was more affectionate than anything else and you moved suddenly, leaning over him to grab the rucksack.

When Steve opened his eyes he saw red, that almost orange colour that reminded him of summers and pool days, the freckle below your collarbone that not many people got to see.

He couldn’t not look at your chest, pushed out towards his face as you stretched an arm, grasping for the strap of the bag, making a little grunting noise as you reached for it.

Red and tiny straps, sun warmed skin that was a little darker than last month, the summer making you glow. A stretch of stomach, taught as you leaned, close enough to his own that he could feel the warmth radiate from you. Long legs pushed up onto your knees, holding you over him like a treat, like a taunt.

But then you were pushing yourself backwards to sit, gleeful with the bag in your hands and you were already unzipping it , hand delving into its contents as you muttered to him.

“Perv.”

It was soft and fond, no heat, no accusation but it still made the boy flush ‘cause that meant you caught him looking but Christ, you were both nineteen and full of hormones - what else was new?

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, princess,” he coughed out, trying to sound cooler than he felt. His eyes stayed hooded behind his glasses, wishing the tint of them made him harder for you to read but you knew him better than yourself. Steve knew that too. “You’ll go up a cup size one day.”

His words hurt no more than your comment had, all light, no sharpness but you smacked at his shoulder all the same, making him grin wide at you. Steve wondered if you knew he thought of you as nothing short of perfect, he wondered if he’d ever get a chance to tell you.

But you’d found what you’d been looking for, a little plastic bag filled with a few buds and some papers, a new grinder ‘cause Steve had lost the last one at a party. You wiggled it at him, Eddie’s special weed making the air grow a little more heady, a little more sweet.

“Wanna get high with me, Harrington?“

And god, wasn’t that a question?

Steve knew you, knew you inside out and back to front, better than anyone else did. He knew how you got after a few hits, a little needy, all touchy and full of affection. The boy had been to enough parties with you to know. You’d find him, a few hours in, coming out of seemingly nowhere, face flushed and eyes glassy.

It didn’t matter who he was talking to, who he was with, what he was doing, you’d me on him in seconds, a ball of heat that smelled like his favourite perfume and the inside of Eddie Munson’s trailer, arms around his neck and face pressed to his chest.

You’d drop yourself into his lap, press messy kisses to his cheeks and giggle all soft when he tried to question you on your whereabouts, if you felt okay, if you’d drank enough water.

By now, it wasn’t really a surprise to know the entire town still thought you were dating. But he stopped refuting it as much, almost preferring the way that boys kept their distance from you when he was around. He didn’t mind the way you curled into him, lips glossy and sticky and whispering into his ear.

He liked the way you hummed happy and whispered a ‘yes’ when you’d had enough - and Steve could always tell - and he told you it was time to go home. It didn’t matter who’s house he took you to, his or yours, both were home.

So god, wasn’t that a question?

“I’m driving princess,” Steve murmured instead of everything he wanted to say.

‘Will you hold onto me, if I do? Will you crawl into my lap and look at me in that way that you do? Will you put your hands in my hair and tell me I smell good? Will you touch me like I’m yours? Will you touch me like you’re mine?’

But he didn’t.

“Not until later, Steve, we’ve got all day,” you told him, all smiles and bright eyes.

And you were right ‘cause the morning was still early, the afternoon barely beginning and there were snacks in the bag, water for when it got too hot, a walkman and some mixtapes for when the day got too quiet.

Steve just smiled and you shook the baggie at him still, a pour on your lips that he could never really learn how to say no to.

“Roll for me anyway?” You asked because you hated it and you weren't very good, and maybe there was something about the way Steve’s nimble fingers made quick work of it, maybe it was the way you liked to watch the tip of his tongue slide slick along the edges of the papers.

Maybe.

So Steve because he couldn’t say fucking no to you and that’s how you found yourself back on the blanket, legs stretched out under the heat of the sun, smoke in the air and everything a little more hazy than it was before.

It could’ve been the weed that made you do it, maybe you could’ve even blamed it on the sun, messing with your head and your heart but Steve would never have believed your excuses, ‘cause when you suddenly sat up and swung a leg over his lap, he didn’t look surprised at all.

His hands fell to your thighs instinctively, more than ready to press his palms onto your bare thighs, the high cut of that damn bikini showing more skin than was necessary and Steve swallowed hard from where he lay under you, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“Princess.”

There it was again, that tone, the low way he said your name, rough like a warning, soft like he was asking for something.

It almost sounded like please, you realised.

You placed the joint between your lips instead of answering, the end of it burning amber and you inhaled softly, hating the way the smoke burned your lungs but loving the way it made you feel. But that could’ve been Steve’s hands on your hips, holding you steady as you tilted your head back, neck exposed, blowing smoke to the sky that was still cloudless.

When you gazed back down at your best friend, his jaw was slack, eyes glassy behind his Ray Bans and you smiled, way too shyly for the stunt you’d just pulled. You took the glasses off his face, wanting to see him, all of him and you held the joint between you, brows raised.

“Want a hit?”

The boy nodded.

He expected you to hold the roll up to his lips, let him take a drag from between your fingers as you sat happily on his lap.

Steve didn’t expect you to take another draw from it, smoke held between your lips, eyes hooded as you leaned down and into him. Your hands found purchase on the blanket on either side of his head but you were still chest to chest. You didn’t talk, couldn’t talk, didn’t need to talk. You just nudged your nose on Steve’s and he tilted his chin towards you, hands tight on your sides like he was holding on for dear life - and oh my god, he felt like he was - before he parted his lips for you and you let go.

Smoke blew gently from your lips to his, top lips just grazing, the movement accidental but neither of you apologised, neither complained. And when Steve held the hit there, in his chest, seconds ticked by like a countdown to something dangerous, to something explosive and on his wrecked sounding exhale, he pushed both of you up, a little frantic as your hips settled into the dip of his more.

“Can I kiss you?”

You asked it softly, like you were telling a secret, like you didn’t wanna admit it, like you were scared Steve was gonna say no, but the boy didn’t answer you at all, not with words anyway.

His mouth was on yours before you could finish talking and you both groaned at the contact. Blindly, you stubbed out the roach on the ground beside you, ashes rubbing into gravel and sand before your hands found purchase on Steve’s face.

It was a kiss you hadn’t shared before, a kiss that was messier than the others, a kiss that lacked the control the others had.

It was a kiss that usually led to something more, hands wandering in someone’s back seat, mouths on necks, voices whispering dirty things in the last row of the cinema.

It was something you hadn’t felt with your best friend before.

It was hot and dirty and fast, his hands on your neck, your jaw, fingers splayed into your hair and his thumb tugging greedy at the corner of your bottom lip, desperate for you to open for him, so he could lick into you.

It didn’t help that you were both lacking so much clothing, too much bare skin pressed against each other, chest to chest and your legs wrapped around his waist.

It was too easy to roll your hips, to whine into Steve’s mouth at the way he let out the dirtiest, prettiest noise for you. It made you want to do it again, it made you wanna thread your fingers into his hair and tug.

“Steve.”

He thinks that’s what broke him, the way you said his name like that, soft and whimpered, like you fucking wanted him, like you needed him. The boy was sure he’d never been that hard in his life, your ass pressed into his lap, his hands wandering over the slope of your lower back, sliding over your bikini pants, fingers toying with the tiny sides of them.

Steve thought about all the things he wished he was brave enough to say to you. ‘Are you mine? Do you know I’m yours? Do you know I always have been?’

But he couldn’t, couldn’t find the courage, couldn’t find the willpower

to drag his lips from yours, not unless it was to press his mouth to your neck instead, to suck and bite a little bruise there that said what he couldn’t with words.

Mine.

You don’t know how it ended, you barely remembered how it had started but as the night leaked in and made the quarry glitter, Steve was smoothing a hand over your hair, messy from his tugging, as you pulled your shorts back on.

He’d packed up the bag, shrugged his T-shirt back over his chest, lips as kiss bitten as yours, skin warm from the sun and you. It felt like there was so much to be said, it felt like nothing at all. A natural occurrence, an almost yearly event, something cosmic, something magic, like a meteor strike, like a new planet being discovered.

You got to kiss your best friend and Steve got to kiss his and it simply felt like you were both one step closer to where you were both going to end up. You were so sure it was with him, but maybe that was just the whispers of your moms, voices hardly quiet as they gushed by the Harrington’s pool summers ago, talking about how their kids were something special together, how sometimes soulmates did exist.

So it didn’t feel awkward when Steve swiped a stand of hair from your cheek, took your hand in his and pressed one more kiss to the top of it before letting go, stepping back for another summer, until one of you - or both of you - were finally ready to say what needed to be said.

It wasn’t going to happen that day, but it felt closer than ever.

And when he drove you both home, Steve didn’t tut at you for putting your feet on the dash, in fact, he smiled all soft the whole drive back into Hawkins, past the same wheat fields, the water tower, the sunflowers and fruit fields that made the night smell sweet.

It was dark when you both snuck in through the back garden gate, Steve’s patio light still on and there was smoke coming from the little fire pit by the pool, gentle chatter and laughter from where both of your parents sat with glasses of wine. Leftover dinner dishes and empty plates sat on the wooden table and neither couple were surprised to see you both.

You didn’t know that your parents watched the way Steve stood tall behind you, always in reach, an open hand just hovering by your side as if he was always ready to catch you. You didn’t know that his mom would smile at you, watching the way you watched her son, cheeks sore with a grin she’d never tire of seeing.

Even Steve’s dad would shake his head, fond, making everyone titter and the pair of you blush as he asked accusingly, “and what have you two been up to all day?”

You wondered if they could see the way you flushed in the dark, if they saw the swell to Steve’s bottom lip from the way you’d been greedy with it, if they noticed the pretty lilac bruise that should’ve hopefully been hidden by your shirt.

But it was okay. ‘Cause you felt Steve warm and solid at your back, his chest pressed against you and the leftover taste of him and smoke on your lips. The air smelled like honeysuckle and chlorine, fresh lavender and basil from a dinner you’d missed and the back garden gate was still swinging on its hinges.

1986. And I scream, “For whatever it’s worth, I love you, ain’t that the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

Steve fucking hated Chris Maxwell. He’d disliked the guy in high school, always running his mouth and exaggerating his lacrosse wins, the girls he got with, the drugs he managed to score. He had the same car as Steve, the same BMW in a shitty puke green colour and he drove it like an idiot.

He hated him even more when you started dating him.

You’d dated guys before, shit, Steve had had his fair share of girls over the years too. Nothing ever serious, nothing that meant all that much ‘cause the girls he brought to parties and basement hang outs took one look at you and tried to make him choose.

Steve always chose you.

You’d dated less, Steve had always noticed, shying away from unfamiliar attention, choosing to kiss and run after the party was over, no numbers exchanged, no dates to be had. You’d always scrunched your nose at him and evaded the question when Steve asked, murmuring something about how it wasn’t worth the hassle.

It’s why Steve had been so surprised when you were dropped off one day by Maxwell, in his snot green car with his stupid smarmy smirk. Once became twice, twice became three times and before you both knew it, you were lounging at the bottom of Steve’s bed one day as he sat at his desk and you were shrugging.

“Uh, yeah, I guess? Maybe he is my boyfriend?”

Steve remembered coughing out a laugh, because, how could you not know?

But you were being picked up and dropped off by the boy on numerous occasions and Steve quickly grew tired of watching him try and eat your face in his front seat. But only two months had passed before things seemingly grew tired and sour, your face twisting in a veil of annoyance when you heard his car horn blast from the street.

He never got out of the car to knock on your door, Steve had noted, never walking you up the path at night to see you safely inside. Steve was sure the last straw came on the day he was already in your living room, hands clutching the casserole dish that his mom had sent him to borrow. You’d rolled up, the stupid vomit coloured car catching the curb as it squealed to a stop, music blasting from the inside and your dad mirrored Steve’s expression as the two men stood at the window.

Noses scrunched, lips downturned, eyes narrowed.

“I don’t like that little punk,” your dad had grumbled.

“Same,” Steve had answered and the two of them were oblivious to the way your mother grinned behind their backs.

But Steve had watched you storm out, car door slamming as Chris leaned over to the open window, yelling something about coming back and let’s talk about this honey!

You’d ignored him and Steve had walked home feeling a little lighter than he had in weeks.

He still didn’t expect Chris to come sneaking into his back yard one evening, when the town was quietening down, when the fireflies came out and the sun made the sky streaky with pink and peach and lilac.

Steve had been propped against the wall of his house, just beside the back garden gate, hidden in that little lane that no one seemed to use. The space that smelled like honeysuckle and lavender, the place that grew a little wild and reminded him of you. There was more ivy on the wall that year, growing more untamed than it ever had and it made Steve smile to see that it was crawling up the side of your house too, almost to your bedroom window.

A cigarette hung from his lips, a bad habit he hadn’t picked up since he was seventeen and easily persuaded but work was shit, his dad was nagging at him about reapplying for colleges and he hated that he’d hardly seen you in a week.

And the reason why was creeping through the gate, shoulders hunched and eyes alert. Chris had stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Steve, a scowl on his face as he snarled at him accusingly.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Steve rolled his eyes, cigarette still wet between his lips and it moved as he replied, his words an annoyed mumble.

“This is my fuckin’ garden, dickwad. You went through the wrong gate.”

It took the boy a moment to realise his mistake and instead of apologising, or admitting to it, he turned and continued to glare at Steve.

“S’your goddamn fault I’m sneaking around anyway, Harrington,” Chris hissed, his eyes already seeking out your bedroom window across from them.

It was ever so slightly cracked, curtains shut and blowing in the breeze but Steve knew you kept it open so you could smell the honeysuckle you loved so much, so that you could hear Steve if he opened his window across from you, to whisper into the night.

It had been a long time since you shared secrets and stories across the garden gates, but old habits die hard and Steve kept his open for the very same reason.

“My fault?” Steve snorted, an offended and somewhat dramatic hand pressed to his chest. He kicked off of the wall, cigarette throwing smoke into the air and he exhaled, smirking when some of it blew into Chris’ face. “And what the fuck did I do, Maxwell?”

“Everything’s always about you!” The other boy burst out, without much preamble, “whole fuckin’ relationship revolved around you, you’re all she talked about and then she tell has the nerve to tell me that she’s breaking up with me.”

Steve looked at Chris with raised brows, cigarette held lightly between a finger and his thumb, the top of it still burning in the dim light.

“Is that so?” Steve took a drag, tried to keep his heartbeat steady, tried not to smile. “Had nothin’ to do with the way you spoke to her like shit and was always demanding stuff, no?”

The boy levelled Steve with a stare, nostrils flared and hands shoved in his pockets. “Of course she tells you fucking everything.”

“Of course she tells me fucking everything,” Steve repeated, emphasis on every word as he glowered at your ex, brows furrowed and fist clenched by his side. “And what’s it to you if she does-”

“What the fuck is going on?”

The two boys looked up, one grinning, the other desperate at the sight of you, hanging out your open window.

Steve held up a hand in a way, features perfectly amicable as he beamed.

“What are you doing here, Chris? There’s a reason I’ve not taken your calls,” you sounded bored, tired and the boy had barely begun to answer before you’d already moved onto Steve.

“Honey, please, I’m begging you can we just ta-”

“Steve, are you smoking? Again? Really?” You tutted, elbow on the window frame as you looked down at him with a soft pout.

“My bad, princess,” but the boy was grinning, not looking very sorry at all ‘cause Chris was silently fuming beside him. “Stressful times, y’know?”

He took another long drag, blew the smoke out above the other boy's head and continued smiling that bright grin. Steve looked up at you again, head tilted as he gestured to your ex and squinted against the sun that was starting to set behind your roof.

“Want me to take out the trash for you?”

His words earned him a shove, a bark of laughter leaving his lips as he barely stumbled against the other boy's hands. But before Steve could retaliate, you were calling down in a voice Steve knew you reserved for telling him off when he got too drunk, when he pushed your buttons a little too much.

“Hey! Chris! Jesus, quit it!” You were leaning out of the window more, sleep shirt hanging off of one shoulder and a pucker between your brows. “Just go, okay? We’ve already spoken about this, I’m not interested.”

“See, this is what I was fuckin’ talking about,” Chris hissed, low enough so only Steve could hear and Steve didn’t know how to reply.

Quiet wrapped around all three of you, the distant trickle of the pool, the muted buzz of Steve’s television from his living room and eventually, a strangled curse from your ex boyfriend's lips as he shouldered past Steve and swung the garden gate open, the wood hitting the brick.

Steve tried not to grin as he looked back up at you, tongue pressed to the side of his cheek and his brown eyes glittering. The sunset made you both rosy, a sunbeam stretching across the side of your house, lighting up the bricks and you.

“He seems touchy.”

“Shut up, Harrington,” you knew Steve heard the smile in your voice, the affection in the roll of your eyes. “You coming up?”

And then you disappeared, ducking back into your room and sliding the window closed with a click.

Steve didn’t realise your parents were out until he walked over the empty driveway, the sun lowering itself into the line of trees across the street, the sky turning lavender, the moon making an appearance. He didn’t knock, just walked in through your front door, shoes toed off by the porch before he jogged up the stairs.

Your door was already open and he found you lazing on your bed, sheets ruffled and the lights off, just the leftover sun trickling in through the open curtains and the crystals you hung at the windows sent rainbows scattering across your walls.

Some of them fell across your bare thighs where you lay, stomach down, legs in the air in a pair of shorts that were hardly seen from underneath the huge shirt that you wore. Another streak of colour landed on your face, fluttering as the crystal spun on their chains, dancing in the last of the light.

Steve wanted to kiss it, to see if the pretty shades on your cheek made you taste any sweeter than he already knew.

“You didn’t tell me you broke up,” Steve said and there was nothing accusatory in his voice, just genuine curiosity, soft and gentle.

He fell onto the bed beside you, made the mattress dip as he shelled into your pile of pillows at the opposite end from where you lay. He pushed a socked foot into your side, digging in at the spaces between your ribs and making you squirm. Steve caught a smile, spread on your lips just for him and you twisted to bat him away, not surprised when his hands found yours and tugged.

You let him pull you beside him, into the mess of sheets and too many cushions, lying so you were facing him, noses a breadth apart, eyes lowered as you spoke, suddenly nervous.

You shrugged, fingers playing with the edges of a pillow, “just sort of happened, wasn’t a big deal.”

A beat of silence, the boy wondering if that was the truth, if there was something more behind your words, if you were hiding something in the way you refused to meet his gaze. Steve wondered if you could feel his heart pounding against the mattress, if it was echoing loud through your pillow the way he was sure it was his.

It felt like something was building, like something was coming. Something big, something new, something wild. Like a tropical storm, a bolt of lightning across the town, a flash flood, a hurricane, something to announce that summer was over.

That time was up.

“You don’t seem too heartbroken ‘bout it,” Steve hedged, his gaze trained on your hands, the way your fingers picked and played with the cotton between you both. He wanted to take your hand in his, run a thumb across your palm and soothe you.

“Cant get my heart broken by a guy that never had it.”

“He didn’t?”

“Don’t play dumb, Stevie,” you chided gently, teasing, “it doesn’t suit you.”

“Always thought he wasn’t good enough for you,” the boy responded, keeping what he really wanted to say hidden behind his tongue.

“You said that about all the guys I got with.”

A gentle nudge, your hand on his chest, a shuffle closer, breathing the same air, the rainbow on your cheekbone flitting to Steve’s lips as the sun moved down. He watched you chase it with your eyes, gaze soft, looking a little longingly, or maybe he was just hopeful.

“It’s true.”

A soft hum, a pleased noise, a smile that finally reached your eyes and a hand that fell to Steve’s arm, running down the length of it until your fingers found the cuff of his sweater and played with that instead.

It was the closet Steve had been to holding your hand for a while and it felt like the beginning of summer again, back to bike rides to the arcade, sticky fingers tips and slurpees that were almost too big to hold.

“Why’d you break up with him?”

You stopped, fingertips brushing over Steve’s wrist, a pause on his pulse point that told you that maybe he was as nervous as you felt. Your knees bumped his, rough denim on soft skin, the day leaking out of your room as the sun fell behind the treetops and suddenly everything was blue.

Navy tinted shadows, inky skin, indigo lines of barely there light that turned Steve’s skin lilac and you breathed in, held it, let the burn in your chest for a second or two before letting it back out.

Summer was leaking away, slipping behind the moon and the night, and you suddenly felt too tired to lie anymore, to pretend.

“He wasn’t all that happy that I was in love with someone else.”

God, you felt brave.

Bold.

Blue.

Steve didn’t look all that surprised, a flicker of soft realisation over his eyes, no shock, just a gentle breath of ‘it’s time?’

“I can’t say I blame the guy,” Steve murmured, chin ducking to meet yours, foreheads pressed together on the same pillow and his hand found yours, fingers twisted together. “Don’t think I’d be very pleased either.”

“I know,” you told him, gaze trained on the way his lips moved when he spoke. “I didn’t mean to, I don’t even know when it happened.”

“No?”

You shook your head, feeling heavier than you had, like you were pulled into the boy and something magic was keeping you there. You could smell lavender and cedar and smoke and Steve.

“Might’ve been at this party, in someone’s basement. Might’ve been the time I was pushed into a closet and my best friend kissed me.”

“That sounds awful,” Steve mused and the beginnings of a grin were pulling at his lips, “a whole five years, huh?”

“Right? Isn’t that just the worst thing you’ve ever heard?”

He liked the way you said those words, like it was the opposite, your voice all sunshine and warmth and leftover summer. You were blue skies and honeysuckle, wildflowers and long drives, sleepovers on your bedroom carpet and sneaking out through the back gate.

“Y’know, I think I’ve got you beat,” said the boy, all faux seriousness as he brought his hand to your waist, palm wide and warm as he pushed at your shirt, bunching it up over your ribs until he could touch bare skin.

“You do?” You felt a little breathless at his touch, a feeling you’d craved since last summer at the quarry, a feeling you’d missed despite knowing you’d get it again soon, eventually. Now.

“Oh yeah,” Steve scoffed, voice teasing, gaze staring at you from between dark lashes. “I once knocked on this girl’s front door, asked her if she wanted to go to the arcade with me and I didn’t even mind when she hogged all the slurpee. I was a goner.”

“I did not!” You laughed, the sound pressed to Steve’s neck ‘cause he was pulling you into him, beaming bright and more carefree than you’d seen him in a while. “Liar.”

“Fell in love with the first girl I ever kissed,” he whispered, cheek pressed against yours as he whispered into your hair, like a secret he was sure you already knew. “How sad is that?”

You shook your head, hands clutched the material of Steve’s shirt, fists to his chest as if he was going to leave.

“S’not sad at all,” you told him and god your voice was a hush, your lips against the shell of his ear and you felt the breath that he sucked in and held. “Long time to wait though, huh?”

Steve nodded, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip as he pulled back, seeking you out in the dark of your room, noses bumping.

“Feels worth it, don’t you think?”

And god, it did.

It happened the way summer did. Slow and inevitable, like the gradual pick up of warmth through the year, the way you expected the sun in the morning, blue skies through your window, ice cream for lunch.

It happened like it was supposed to, like it was meant to, like you’d waited all that time just to greet it with a warm shyness, a coy, “oh, I’ve been expecting you.”

It rolled in like a present, like a gift, like a reward. Like something that the world wanted you both to have, like the universe knew you were supposed to be together. So you shared first kisses between the wildflowers, let the seeds of something more bloom between your ribs, the spaces between your chests and your hearts. You let it simmer in the warm afternoons, burn a little stronger on cliff tops over quarry’s, picnic blankets rough under bare knees and hands in hair.

“It does,” you breathed, closer to the boy than you had been, noses pressed into cheeks and for the last time, your best friend asked you your favourite question, one that tasted like fresh lemonade and smoke, cherry slurpees and fresh flowers in the air.

“Hey princess?”

You hummed a response, eyes already closed, lashes brushing at the corners, a small smile playing on the curve of your lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

You were on Steve before he could finish asking, hands on his jaw, tugging him into you, the hand that he had on your waist tightening its grip as your lips met.

It felt different than last summer. Slower, deeper, lazier, like you both knew that this wasn’t the last kiss, like you both knew you didn’t have to wait until next year, or the year after.

Like you both knew that this time was it.

You moved in the dark of your room together, Steve pushing you back into the plush of your bed, moving over you to hold himself there, chest just brushing yours as one hand found purchase in your sheets, careful not to crush you.

He caught the leg that you brought up to his side on instinct, desperate to feel more of him, wanting to press into him. Steve’s finger curled under the space behind your knee, hooked there so he could hold your thigh against his hip, so he could move into the space you created for him, body rolling into yours.

He swallowed the gasp you gave him, kissed away the sigh and the blue of the room seemed a little brighter with his lips on yours. You whined against him until the boy caught on, moving back onto his knees only for you to follow, chest pressed against his and only breaking the kiss for him to lift his arms for you. His shirt hit the floor, yours following suit, all bare skin underneath with some new freckles to find, a trail of summer; water fights, sneaking out and greeting the morning together on the hood of Steve’s car.

Steve ducked down to meet you, to let you kiss him a little deeper, a little dirtier, tongue licking at the seam of your lips, groaning when you opened for him, hand spanning the width of your back, hips pressed together with intent.

“I’m fucking desperate for you, y’know that right?” Steve groaned, words sinking into your mouth with every push of his lips against yours and you swore you’d never heard anything prettier. “Always have been, totally gone on you, princess.”

“Steve,” you felt hot with the prick of emotion, tears brimming at your lashes ‘cause it was all too much and not enough, want and longing and need building up, years of looking, of touching and just tasting, searching kisses, useless excuses, never talking about it after.

And then his hands were back on your legs, palms hooked around the backs of your knees and you were falling together, bouncing off of the mattress, pillows falling to the floor and god, you were crashing into each other.

It was mixtapes on birthdays, fresh strawberries after swimming, a hand held in the dark after a scary movie, sitting in the yard after dark when the night was still warm and you don’t know how to tell your best friend that you thought they were perfect.

Your shorts slid off too easily, hips raised from the bed and Steve’s fingers curled into the waistband. He kicked off his jeans with the help of your feet, toes pushed into the denim as he shucked them to the floor.

Suddenly, there was more skin to touch, to taste, to look at, and Steve took note of every curve he hadn’t seen, every little mole and scar, tan lines in places he always tried not to stare at.

But he kissed them instead, lips trailing hot over your chest, kisses pressed to the dip of your clavicle, the patch of sunburn on your shoulder and you felt like you had caught the entire months of summer in your chest.

It all felt a little golden.

But night had crawled in and the shadows were darker, making every touch more intense, every kiss feeling like a confession. Your underwear joined his, piled at the foot of your bed with spilled sheets and pushed pillows and the world fell into silence for you both.

No buzz or insects, no sprinklers in the yard, no screech of brakes from the street, no yelling from a tv.

Everything was hushed as Steve spread his fingers over you, a choked gasp at the way he made you feel, a kiss to soothe. He kissed you through it, fingers feeling thick as he slid one and then two inside of you, curling up and searching, face pulled back from your own so he could watch you fall apart beneath him.

“So fuckin’ pretty, so pretty,” Steve told you and you felt it, you believed him, forehead pressed to his as you gasped out his name, hands wrapped around his biceps as he coaxed you over the edge. “Can you come for me princess? Please?”

You did as he asked, as if you had any say in the matter, crashing and tumbling and falling into him, body tight, eyes clenched shut and lips falling apart in the prettiest moan Steve had ever heard.

“Oh shit, babe, that’s it, ‘atta girl, princess.”

He pulled your hands from his length when you made an eager grasp for him, not cruel, just desperate. Steve shook his head, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, jaw slack and eyes heavy.

“Babe, if you touch me s’all gonna be over in a second,” he admitted hoarsely and his voice held no shame.

So you covered him in kisses, flipped your positions from where you lay on the bed and pushed the boy into the pillows instead. You caught his lips on yours, messier now that you’d had a taste of what was to come, mouth leaving gloss over his jaw, down his throat and you felt the vibrations over your tongue when Steve moaned.

You moved over him, slick and warm, hips pushing into his as you straddled him, making a mess of his boxers and short circuiting his brain as Steve gripped your thighs, touch almost cruel as he held on for dear life.

You pressed your palms to his chest, dropped yourself down a little so your lips could graze his own, a new kind of kiss, teasing, a whisper that was barely there.

It promised more to come, it kept him waiting and wanting, made Steve groan out at the realisation that he was entirely yours and god, maybe, just maybe, you were his too.

“Fucking hell,” he whispered, and his voice was shot, “princess, please, s’not nice to tease a man like that.”

You grinned, filled with a confidence you only ever gained from being near Steve, bolstered by the way he looked at you - all heavy lidded and slack jade, chest and cheeks flushed underneath you.

“You’ve never complained before,” you murmured back, mouth parted over his, Cupid’s bows touching but never really pressing your lips to his.

It made you both think back to all the looks, the gazes, the stares filled with longing and wanting and yearning. That same question, asked with uncertainty, with a tumble of nerves, a burst of wonder, over the years until you knew what each other would taste like, until you knew how their lips felt between your own.

“Vixen,” Steve mumbled and it should’ve been said like an insult, like a curse but his voice was molten honey, sweet caramel and the start of a summer morning.

“Can I kiss you, Harrington?” The question wasn’t needed, and you were starting to think it never had been, but you loved the way his lips lifted into a soft smile under yours, noses brushing as he nodded, waiting patiently with his hands smoothing over the backs of your thighs.

Steve made a pretty noise at the back of his throat, a gasp and a moan, a wrecked, “please,” falling onto your lips.

You kissed him without any worries, without any thoughts of what does this mean for tomorrow? You kissed him like you were greeting summer, like he was the month of June and blue skies, like you could taste peaches and fresh lemonade on his lips, like he held all your secrets behind his teeth.

He did.

Your harsh pants and soft moans mixed as you moved together, the boy shuffling underneath you as he rid himself of his underwear, boxers kicked to the end of your bed where they’d eventually be lost.

He took himself in his hand, hard and long, his breath shaky as you slid down, gasping into his mouth as you got yourself seated, tightening around him for the first time.

Steve whispered your name, soft, sinful, like a prayer, like a praise.

“I’m not gonna last long,” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut as he clasped your face in his hands, fingers splayed across the line of your jaw, over the apples of your cheeks. “M’sorry, it’s just- you’re too much, princess-”

You cut him off with a kiss - a silent ‘it’s okay’ - hips shifting, rolling over him as you moved, whimpering into his mouth. Steve swallowed your noises, gave you back his own and it wasn’t long before he was rolling you both over.

His hands found the insides of your thighs first, spreading them so he could fit between, length still inside of you, pressing into all the right places. Palms smoothed up your sides, over the ripples of your ribs, calluses catching soft skin and the feel of it all made you sigh, head tilted back.

Your hands found his, fingers intertwined as he pressed them back into the pillow below you, chest brushing up against your own as he moved, your legs curled around his waist and it was bliss, it was bright white behind your eyes, it was glitter in the dark, it was a electricity in your bones.

“Steve,” your voice was a whimper, an almost cry, your hands grappling at his shoulders for purchase as he pushed you into the mattress with thrust after thrust.

It all felt a little wild, gasping into open mouths, lips barely managing to find the other for a kiss, sliding messy over each other as hands pulled hair and fingers squeezed at arms, at thighs, at waists.

“I know,” the boy said, sounding just as wrecked as you did, his face buried in the crook of your neck, his hands under the small of your back, fingers splayed wide so he could lift your hips into his own. “I know, fuck, you close? Please tell me you’re close.”

You answered with a moan, a pitched keen, your fingers tugging the lengths of hair at the nape of the boys neck and he groaned, a deep dirty sound in response and then you were falling apart, a vice around him, eyes clenched shut and teeth biting down on the muscle in his shoulder.

Your name tumbled from his lips, a holy sound and Steve moved a little messier, his hips stuttering before he pulled out, both of you sighing at the loss, before he spilled onto your stomach with the help of your hand.

The air smelled like summer and sex and Steve.

Your pants filled the air, mixing with the boys and the trickle of the pool in the backyard. You lay together, breathless and skin slick, flyaway hairs sticking to your forehead, eyes a little glassy and lips rosy from greedy kisses.

Steve pressed another to you then, and you were almost dizzy with it. He didn’t ask, neither did you. You didn’t have to. Not anymore. So he kissed you a little harder, tempting pretty sounds from your chest that he chased with his mouth, body still pressed against yours in a way you were sure you’d never grow tired of.

No one spoke until you were both cleaned and half dressed, bodies lazy across your sheets, the night still too warm to wear anything more than your underwear, chests bare in the dark and pressed greedily to each other. A slow hand brushed across the small of your back as you lay on your stomach, head on the boy’s chest and your fingers carding through his hair.

Every now and then you’d press a kiss to wherever you could reach: his palm when it smoothed over your cheek, his sternum where you lay, the sharp line of his jaw when you found the energy to tilt your head up.

Steve responded in kind, his lips on your forehead, the top of your crown, the end of your nose.

The silence was filled with the wonder of each touch, both of you bursting at the seams as you pressed your mouths to each other without worrying, without asking.

But then Steve shifted against the pillows, moved until you were over him, chest to chest and your legs in the space between his. You propped your chin on his chest, eyes sleepy as you looked up at him and you hummed in delight when he smoothed hand over your hair, tucking it behind your ear.

“You know I’m in love with you, don’t you?”

Heavy words were said so simply, so easily, and you did. You knew. But it still sucked the breath from you, it still made you ache to hear it out loud.

“Yeah, I do,” you answered, because you did. You knew it from the way Steve looked at you, the way he liked to be near you, to sit a fraction too close. You knew it from the way he shared his slurpees, his car, his bed, his thoughts, his secrets. You felt it in his gaze, his touch, in the way he’d grown with you. “I’m in love with you too.”

“Yeah, princess, I know.”

And it was as easy as that. Simple like summer, inevitable, like the way the month of June rolls in after May. It was expected, like the warmth and the heat, like the sun in the morning and the clear starry skies at night.

It was an eventuality, a slow burn, a want, a need, a necessity.

It was Steve and it was summer and they belonged in their entirety to you.

-----

Ko-Fi ♡

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things

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skzstannie · 6 months

Text

"Watch and learn, my dear"

SKZ drabble -> ot8 x fem!reader [PLATONIC] genre: Fluffy fluff wc: ~1300

Hi again! Next will be a Seongwha request I got a few days ago. Not sure when it'll be out, as I am a college student and have a lot of assignments to catch up on this weekend, but be on the lookout for it.

Alsooo, if anyone has any tips on how to make my blog look more aesthetic, plz do tell hahah

Happy scrolling!

"Watch and learn, my dear," Han sends you a playful wink.

You are currently on a team with Chan while playing cornhole. Your opponents are Han and Seungmin, and Han chose to throw from the same side as you.

It's a nice summer day, and you, along with the whole Stray Kids crew, are spending it outside. You started off the afternoon in the pool, but then I.N almost cracked his skull open when attempting to dive, and you all decided that was enough of the pool for the day. You then moved on to riding bikes, but then Changbin and Felix's wheels collided and they busted their knees up on the asphalt. It was a whole ordeal, and somehow Changbin ended up forcing Hyunjin and Han to carry him all the way back to the house.

After those exciting events, we decided to reign it in a little before someone got seriously injured. So, we now reside in the driveway, playing a nice and calm game of cornhole. I.N has been resting inside since the pool incident, saying he has a killer headache and just needs a nap. Hyunjin, Felix, and Changbin have taken cover from the heat in the garage, while Lee Know sits in the middle of the yard, bathing in the warmth of the sun.

"Han, no offense, but you haven't actually hit the board yet, and we've been playing for 10 minutes," you laugh, smiling harder when Han looks at you with an insulted look on his face.

"I'll have you know that I've been doing that on purpose, Missy. Didn't want to give away my ace of an arm too soon."

Upon hearing this from the other side of the driveway, Seungmin scoffs and gives him a bothered look. "You better be joking. The score is literally 19-0, I think you could've pulled it out a little sooner."

"Shh, I have to focus," Han narrows his eyes before hollering something sounding akin to a screaming donkey. He does a little dance, spinning around quickly in a circle, making you giggle. He faces toward the other board again, pulls his arm back and launches the beanbag high into the air.

All those theatrics, just for the beanbag to unceremoniously hit an unsuspecting Lee Know right in the face, who, up until that point, was peacefully sleeping.

“Wha-,” he startles, standing upright in a second. Your eyes widen at the intimidating look he throws at all of you, and you immediately shove your thumb in Han’s direction. You smile to yourself as you look and see that Seungmin and Chan are doing the same. “Han, you brat,” and with that, Han is gone in a flash racing to hide somewhere behind the garage. You walk over to Lee Know’s chair and drag it up to your cornhole game.

“What? You’re finished now? We were about to win!” Chan whines, playfully pouting at you.

“Well, Dandy-Boy over there just lost his partner, and I don’t know about you, but I wanna see whatever’s about to go down. I want a front row seat.” You kick your legs out, turning your attention to a, now screaming, Han. Lee Know has acquired the hose, and you know all hell’s about to break loose.

"Please! Please stop! I can't run much more!" Han yells, gasping for air.

"Well then stop!" Lee Know deviously yells back, gaining on the younger.

Han bends over with his hands on his knees, surrendering to the cold jet of the hose. "That actually feels pretty nice," he comments, standing upright and stretching his arms out to his sides to let the water cool him down.

Lee Know sprays Han for a few more seconds before feeling bored. "It's no fun if you're enjoying it." He huffs and stops spraying the hose, looking back to the three of you still silently watching from the driveway. A smirk spreads across his face; one that you know all too well.

You quickly stand from the chair, scurrying inside the garage to take cover. "Run!" You scream, using poor Felix as a human shield. Lee Know sprints into the garage, blasting the water in a swaying motion, soaking everything in it's path, including Felix and the innocent party of Hyunjin and Changbin. They all gasp, looking up at Lee Know.

"If my knee wasn't throbbing right now, I'd so get you back," Changbin narrows his eyes at Lee Know.

"In my defense, I was only trying to get y/n. So if anything, blame her," Lee Know argues back. He turns his attention to the three completely dry soon-to-be victims hiding out near the house, and he takes off after them, eliciting a multitude of screams and yelps.

Hyunjin, Changbin, and Felix look to you. "You've got to be kidding me. I'm innocent!" You nervously back up, making your way towards the garage door. "We're on the same team!" You try, but in the blink of an eye, Hyunjin is after you. You scream, running towards nothing specific.

"Avenge us, Hyunjin!" You hear Felix yell, followed by a chorus of Felix and Changbin giggles.

You run throughout the yard, hurdling and ducking between random objects to try to lose your attacker. But to no avail, and Hyunjin rams into the back of you, soaking your perfectly dry clothes. You screech, struggling in his grasp before ultimately giving up, knowing he's much stronger than you are. He squeezes the life out of you once more, you and him watching the chaos ensue on the other side of the yard. Somehow, Seungmin has ended up with the hose now and is running for his life from Chan, Han, and Lee Know. "Poor guy's not gonna make it," you say to Hyunjin, watching as Seungmin trips over a lump in the grass, awkwardly hitting the ground and dropping the hose in the process.

"Mercy!" he yells, gripping his ankle and writhing in pain. Chan drops down next to him in concern

"What happened? Did you hurt your ankle?" Chan worries, placing a comforting hand on Seungmin's shoulder. Hyunjin finally lets you go and you both quickly make your way to them. Changbin and Felix also make their way out of the garage upon hearing Seungmin's cries.

"My ankle, I think I broke it," he cries. Chan looks up to you guys and you can tell dad-mode has been activated.

"Can someone go get a bag of ice? Changbin, help me lift him." Chan orders, standing up.

In the blink of an eye, Seungmin jumps up and quickly grabs the hose, spraying all of you and laughing menacingly. You all stare in disbelief, jaws dropped, not knowing Seungmin was that good of an actor.

You observe him and notice he's the only one who hasn't gotten wet yet. "How are you still dry?" You question him. You and the rest of the boys slowly start inching towards him.

He stutters a little, taking slow steps back, feeling uneasy. "Uh-"

"He won't be for long! Get him!" Lee Know answers for him, being the first to make a move and run towards the puppy. Seungmin turns and runs the opposite direction and the rest of you follow.

The shenanigans keep up for about 30 more minutes. At some point, I.N emerged from the house to see what all the noise was about. Unfortunately for him, Lee Know once again had the hose, and he wasn't feeling very merciful. As soon as I.N stepped foot in the yard he was bombarded with a blast of icy cold water, completely waking him from his after-nap grogginess. The hose gets passed around numerous more times, and you all, including Seungmin, end up completely soaked from head to toe by the time you're finished.

While you guys never finished your cornhole game, all too exhausted from the days events, it still ended up being a fun afternoon.

You and Chan will just have to beat Seungmin and Han a different day.

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wolfhard13 · 2 months

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Mine

Mike Wheeler x fem!reader

Warnings:fluff, jealousy and little bit of swearing and its a little long to read.

Note: Mike and Reader have been best friends forever and when a certain new girl pops up and tries to steal Mike away, Reader knows she has to make the new girl know Mike is hers.

*Season 3 Mike and Reader are both 14? I think*

"Y/N?" Mike calls out, annoyed as he has to wait for you to finish getting ready to go to Starcourt Mall.

"Almost done, Mikey!" Reader calls out to him as she finishes her make-up just in time for Mike to swing open the door and look at Reader and her cute choice of clothing.

"W-woah, you look umm g-great" Mike mumbles as his eyes go wide, taking in readers pretty sun dress that she wears every summer and her perfectly curled hair and cute shy smile.

"Thanks, Mikey" You grinned as you took his hand and lead him over to the front yard to go ride over to the mall to meet your friends.

Mike blushes as you interlock your hand with his and drag him down the stairs all the way to where your bikes were.

"Do you think they're waiting for us still?" You asked as you hopped on the bike and stared at your best friend.

"I don't know N/N but if they aren't we can go hang out ourselves" Mike chuckled and you smiled wide.

"Oooh~ I would love that!" You squeal and Mike sighs as he looks at you dreamily and takes in your beauty.

"Let's go now Mikey, before we actually get late" you said as you started riding off.

Mike nods and does as you said and also went after you. Anyone from a 10 meter distance could tell Mike is smitten for you and was so obviously inlove with you and people could say the same for you as they noticed your lingering glances at him and his lips and they way you were so close with eachother.

You both arrived at the mall and put your bikes in the bike rack as you make your way over to the party and Max smiles and you run up to her for a hug and she glady hugs you back and all of you watched up while waiting for Will to get here.

Once Will arrived you all went to Schoops Ahoy just before Steve's shift ended so you could get free ice-cream.

The party all sat down at a table and you and Mike sat close together while eating your ice creams. You and Mike have been friends since you both could talk and Mike was only a year older then you, so you both grew up together meaning you knew everything about eachother and were very close.

You all talked and hanged out while walking around the mall as a group and window shopping (ya'll are broke) and you walked with Mike as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. It was a normal thing for you two and was also for the party but that didn't stop them from teasing you two relentlessly.

"Awww, you two finally dating?" Dustin says in a sing-song voice as you and Mike both blush and deny it.

"You sure?" Lucas and Max both say before giggling and laughing at you two and you notice Mike really embarrassed, so you slip your hand into his and give it a gentle squeeze and when the others weren't looking, a quick peck on his cheek making both of your faces light up and get all red.

You relased your hand from his and walked faster to catch up with Max and you girls both laughed and talked about the utter most random things as Mike walked with the rest of the group but was absolutely stunned and not in a bad way just like happy shocked or smth.

A few hours go by and you guys have to go home and since you and Mike are neighbours you rode together.

"Today was fun, huh?" You told Mike with a smile and he smile back while saying.

"Yeah, very fun." He said before saying, "like the bit where you kissed me." Mike said, leaving both of you blushing messes and you quickly defended yourself.

"I-i was trying to cheer you up and I only kissed your cheek!" you said quickly and defensively but with a huge grin on your face.

"Yeah, right." Mike said and you both laughed before reaching your houses.

"See you tomorrow, Mikey?" You asked and he nodded and you went to go hug him and he returned it before going into your separate houses.

You woke up tomorrow and got ready to all hang out again and it was pretty much the same all summer before it was the last day of break and the party and you went to a hill and made a promise to stick together no matter what happens. It was a tradition you've been doing since 2 years ago.

You and Mike walked home and he walked you to your door before saying, "Princess?"

Mike had been calling you that since you were 6 as a joke because you had dressed up in a princess costume and he a knight for Halloween and you wore that costumes for 3 days before taking it off because Mike gifted you it for your birthday and you were excited to wear it.

"Yeah, Mikey?" You mumbed and looked up into his pretty brown eyes and stared at eachother so intensely before Mike slowly leaned in and pressed his lips on yours.

You guys pulled apart for a second before you kissed him again and when you guys pulled away you pressed your forehead on his and closed your eyes as you went for another kiss.

You both smiled when you stopped the kiss before you went inside your house and when you closed the door, you quietly screamed and made little excited noises and Mike grinned as he could hear you from outside, but said nothing as he walked back to his house with the biggest smile ever, on his face.

The next day was the first day of school so you decided to be a little extra and put more effort in so you got into the shower and picked a cute outfit, a cropped baby blue shirt with black shorts. You asked your mum if she could braid your hair and after you put on your make-up and prepared your school bag for the day.

You got to school and waited for the rest of the party to arrive and Max came first and you guys sat on the bench and waited for the guys and you told her what happened with Mike yesterday and she and you were both giggling and laughing about it.

"I think I'm inlove with him" you confessed to Max just as Mike, Will, Dustin and Lucas arrived and asked what you were talking about and Max replied with 'nothing' as you and Mike made heart eyes at eachother.

You guys were just staring at eachother and the whole party was just whispering and chuckling at the interaction between you two. You both smiled and then you walked up close to him and pecked his lips before walking away with Max.

"OMG DUDE" Dustin screamed, "DID SHE J-JUST?!? OMG"

"SINCE WHEN WAS THAT A THING?" Both Lucas and Will yelled at him.

Mike didn't say anything as he blushed and pressed to fingers to his lips, where you kissed him and smiled before calling your name and chasing after you and Max.

"Hey! Y/N" Mike jogged up to you and Max just as she whispered in your ear she was about to go.

"Hi Mikey" you said as he pulled you in by the waist and kissed you again.

Once you guys pulled apart you smiled and held his hand and he walked you to class, where you both sat down in the 2nd last row next to eachother.

"Mike?" You said, "What are we exactly?" You spoke to him in a curious voice.

"Whatever you want to be but I do really want to be your boyfriend and you know? Be dating?" He said as he blushed in the last few words.

"Well then I guess I'm your girlfriend" You giggles as Mike smiled wide at this information and leaned over to kiss your head and went back to listening to what the teachers was saying but he linked his hand into yours.

A few months go by and life seems perfect, you have your lovely boyfriend, good friends, amazing grades and it all seemed so good right now. You're always hanging out with Mike and your both very clingy but you don't mind it's actually amazing because when Mike gets clingy he gets attached to you like attached and will not be physically removed.

You enter school with Mike's arm around your waist and your friends walking behind you. They go to separate classes while you and Mike go to your English class. You sit down with Mike in your shared desk and Mike's places his hand comfortably on your thigh and you listen to the teacher while he draws circles on you.

The teacher announces there will be a new girl and then she steps in and you watch as her eyes go past everyone on onto your boyfriends. You shift uncomfortablely at her intense staring before finally looking at the teacher.

"Mike?" You asked quietly as the teacher was introducing the new girl, whose name is Aria.

"Yeah, princess?" Mike looks at you, like your the world or to precise his world.

"The new girl keeps staring at you." You shift again when you notice her gaze on your boyfriend.

"I don't care about her, love. Just you." Mike says as he kisses the crown of your head and grips you tighter as you lean into his touch.

"Aria, go sit down next to Mike" the teacher yelled, "Mike put your hand up."

Mike hesitantly put his hand up and moved even closer to you, if that was possible.

"Hi, I'm Aria" She said to Mike smiling all wide and flirtatious.

"I'm Mike" He said bluntly and didn't shake her hand when she held it off but she brushed it off.

"You been here long?" She asked him question after question and he got sick and tired of it so he pulled you onto his lap and the teacher didn't care as he wrapped his arms around your waist and snuggled his head in your neck.

"Yeah, I guess. Could you stop talking? I'm with my girlfriend." Mike snarled as he cuddles into you more. You blushed at him being this much PDA with you but you liked it as he didn't so it much often.

You death stared the girl, who did the same back at you and you and Mike both got up straight away to leave class once the bell rang.

"Let's go back to mine." The Wheeler boy says as he drags you along not even giving you the chance to say yes or no. :)

You both hang out at his house for the rest of the day and went to bed together and cuddled the rest of the night.

The next day the girl did the same after and she did so for a month and recieved a months worth of Mike's rejections, before you had enough.

You came out if class to see Mike in the hallway and you both made eye contact and he was about to go over to you as a certain demon spawn (Aria) came over to him and again started to flirting with him.

You had enough so you decided to take matters into your own hands.

"Mikey!" You ran up to him and into his arms as he spun you around before setting you down and you immediately went in for a kiss. But it wasn't a singular kiss, no, you were full on making out with Mike infront of Aria and you broke apart just as Mike said.

"L-love" as you bit down gently on his neck and left a hicky on there and he squirmed.

Once you finished what you were doing you turned around and faced Aria.

"Oh hi. I didn't see you there." Just as you grabbed Mike hand and dragged him through the halls.

"Princess?" Mike said teasingly, "Were you jealous?" He said giggling and smiling like a fool.

"What? No!" You laughed once you looked him in the eye and he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you into him.

"I'm so inlove with you. Just you." Mike said repeating what he said before and that was all you needed.

"I love you too, Mike"

#mike wheeler #finn wolfhard #finn wolfhard characters #stranger things #x reader #x you #x y/n #tumblr fyp #finn wolfhard x reader #mike wheeler is in love with me<3 #stranger things 5 #boris pavlikovsky #trevor spengler #miles fairchild #ziggy katz #richie tozier

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immortal-imagines · 8 months

Text

The Question

Summary: She wants him to commit, but is he ready? (Joel Miller x Reader) Warnings: Swearing, angst Word Count: 961 A/N: Just a little Joel oneshot for you before the new Sabotage chapter! Hope you like it! Based on a TikTok I watched today!

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you!”

“Please!”

“Stop it Joel!”

“It’s midnight. Let’s talk about this. Wait til the morning.”

He reached out to grab her hand as she flung her bag over her shoulder, stuffed hastily with clothes. She recoiled, snatching her arm back.

“Don’t touch me.”

He shrunk back, sinking onto the bed. The looks she gave him was one he’d never seen before. Pure fire and rage.

“Please,” he said, quieter this time, softer.

She ran her hand through her hair. “Joel.” She shook her head, run out of words to say. “Please don’t follow me.”

The apartment door opened and closed. She was gone.

Joel let his head fall back on the mattress, the mattress they’d bought together, just a year before. The mattress he’d held her in his arms while she slept, kissed her, loved her.

She was sick of his indecisiveness. His unwilling to commit. And he didn’t blame her. Why would someone stick around when he couldn’t give her the life she wanted. The life she deserved. She wanted marriage and kids and a home. He wanted those things too, but fuck if the thought didn’t terrify him. All he wanted to do was take care of her, but his fear had gotten in the way and now she was gone.

He stared at the ceiling. Fuck. He’d really done it this time.

He must’ve drifted off because when he opened his eyes, sunlight bled through the curtains. And the empty space next to him reminded him with an awful twang that she was gone. He ran his hands over his face, sitting up and assessing the room. Her stuff was everywhere. She’d been in such a rush, she’d barely taken anything. All over one stupid fight. She’d asked him if he could see them with kids and he shrugged. He grunted. Said nothing, like he always did.

“Fuck.”

He grabbed his keys. It took seconds for him to reach the door and start the truck. He didn’t think, just let instinct lead him. He knew where she’d be. He knew what he had to do.

Her family’s lake house was only a half an hour drive, but he pushed the truck to its limit, taking corners like they were nothing. He was mad at himself that he’d let her go for this long. She’d said not to follow, but how could he just let her go.

His hair stuck up at odd angles and he was still in the clothes he’d slept in, but he didn’t care. That wasn’t the priority. She was.

He sped past shops, houses, neighbourhoods. The kind she hoped they’d live in one day. Out of their pokey apartment and into a place they could call their own. He’d make a crib for their child, teach them how to throw a ball and ride a bike.

You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. Joel hated the cliché phrase, but it was true. He could see his life so clearly with her. The moment that door slammed it was like the future he could have flashed in front of him. The yard, the home, the wife, the kids. Why had he been so afraid?

He made it to the forest and the dirt track that lead to the house. He could see the lake in the distance. His heart skipped a beat and the little box in his pocket suddenly felt extremely heavy. He’d had it for a year or so now, but never plucked up the courage to ask. Or maybe he was afraid she’d say no. His pride got the better of him. But when she walked out, he knew what he wanted.

The truck kicked up plumes of dust, as it tore towards the lake. Towards her. He went over and over again in his head what he was going to say.

“I’m sorry.”

“I love you.”

“Please don’t go.”

“Be my forever.”

He wasn’t one for soppy cards or words of affection. He liked to show his love. But now, actions weren’t going to cut it. She needed to hear how he felt.

He parked up next to her car. It was like he blinked and he was at the front door, hand raised ready to knock. His stomach was in knots. Just do it. So he did. Two sharp knocks.

“Go home, Joel.” Her voice was muffled behind the door.

“Need t’ talk t’ you,” he said. When he was met with silence, he added, “Please.” It wasn’t as desperate as the night before. More of a request than a plea. The door creaked, just slightly ajar, and he saw her face appear in the crack.

“I said don’t follow me.”

“Y’know I’m no good at listening,” he gave her a half smile, hoping to defuse the tension and get her to open the door just a bit wider. It worked. The door swung fully open. She stood, arms crossed, in the threshold with a look of pure thunder.

“Go on,” she said, one eyebrow raised, “What do you want?”

Now or never.

Joel got down on his knee. It wasn’t how he pictured it, but then again none of this ever was. Her face dropped and her hands shot to her face.

“What are you doing?”

“Look, I know I’m no good at this soppy shit. I’m not good at anythin’ right now.” He sighed, looking at the ground. “I shoulda done this a long time ago.” He took the box out of his pocket and opened it. His eyes met hers. Tears ran down her cheeks.

“I don’t want you to do this just because I want it. I want you to want it too.”

“Never been more certain, babygirl.”

#joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #pedro imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller smut #pedro #pedro pascal smut

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pagayos · 1 year

Text

nct dream as : fathers

authors note 💬 : this will be nct with their kids , not proofread and is written in lowercase.

NA JAEMIN : love and luck !

the three of you are eating your fruits in the table peacefully since your daughter requested it, you're cutting the apples in a bunny design while your husband is eating mango.

"daddy, i think i'm in lovee" your four year old daughter casually said while eating her chopped apples, jaemin dropped the spoon he was holding and looked at his daughter stunned.

you nudge your husbands shoulder, wanting him to go back to his sense which he did. the white haired male fixed his posture before clearing his throat.

"oh, who's this lucky guy?" jaemin smiled at daughter. the four year old was thrilled that her parents are willing to listen about her soulmate.

"his name is, channie! he's from my class" you spaced out for a second, figuring out who's the parent of this kid. you know the answer from the back of your mind but you can't seem to remember, until you recalled the smile that kid has.

"oh, it's haechan's kid'' you patted his shoulder excitedly after finally getting the right answer. your daughter was amazed how you guessed her crushes parents, without knowing that chan's father is actually friends with her dad.

"dear god" jaemin sighed in defeat, because the male knows once his bestfriend get this information he's going to tease the living hell out of him, just like the first time jaemin layed his eyes on you.

LEE JENO : home sleep home

"goodbye dad ! i'm running away" your son shouted before closing the door planning on running away, jeno rushed to go outside and stop his five year old son.

"son, where are you going?!" your husband asked, trailing behind his your son who didn't answer and just kept on walking. jeno sighed knowing well why his son isn't talking to him.

"i'm running away cause you don't love me anymore" the kid finally looked behind him with a pout on his face and both arms folded to each other.

"s/n, all i told you is that it's nap time" jeno kneeled in front of his grumpy son, at first the kid protested that he doesn't need nap time anymore since he's already big boy but jeno know his son all too well.

he watched his son rubbed his eyes for a few seconds almost cooing at the site of his cute kid, jeno is sure going to miss this moment when he grows up.

"are you sure? you're rubbing your eyes" jeno said in a teasing way, your son didn't say anything he just straight up went to jeno's arms wanting his dad to carry him.

the male was about to ask his kid which children's story is his going to read but was stopped when he heared small snores near his ear, jeno softly smiled before going back inside their home.

MARK LEE : ride to life

"daddy, i don't think i can do this. i'm scared" your seven year old daughter whined, as she hold the pink bike grips tightly scared that she might fall but of course mark wouldn't let that happen.

"it's alright princess, i got you. i'm not letting go" mark assured his daughter not wanting to make her more panic. once the seven year old is back to her calm self, she carefully pedalled the two tire bike.

it started of mark guiding his daughter from behind when the kid starts getting comfortable to the feeling, the male slowly let go without his daughter noticing.

"i'm doing it, mom! dad you can let go now" your daughter cheered as she goes around the yard as you watch her from the porch.

"great job, i knew you could do it!" mark coo'd while recording his seven year old from his phone, he believes that this is one step forward to growing up.

HAECHAN LEE : bubble bath!

making your five year old to take a bath has been a challenge since he was born, the kid would cry and splash the water everywhere making everything in the bathroom wet, and you've finally decided to take a break from it.

"chan, can you bath our son today?" you asked haechan, while making the bed together. your husband happily agreed not knowing the hell he'll go through later.

"s/n, stop splashing water everywhere!! daddy's all wet now" haechan scolded his son but being a mini him the five year old didn't stop, instead he splashed more water towards his father.

the tan male is soaked with soap and water, not to mention the bathroom floor is slippery due to the soap so he can't call you to help him, scared that you might fall.

"stop doing that ─ y/n please help!" your husband loudly said, as soon as you heard haechan's pleaded you instatly knew he has enough of his son's stubbornness, so you immediately ran towards the bathroom to help him.

"gosh, chan you're all soaked" you exclaimed, haechan only nodded at you trying to dry his face with his palm while your son was sitting in the bathtub looking at the both of you with a smile in his face, planning something.

"mom, dad look!" the five year old cheered, making the married couple look at their son's direction but the moment they landed their eyes on him a big splash of water greeted their faces.

"great...." the couple said in unison with both their eyes closed.

end ─

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aristrocrat · 2 years

Text

Upside Down Feelings

Chapter One: The Vanishing of Will Byres

an episode-by-episode stranger things fic that incorporates the reader into the series

summary: Y/N Henderson is your typical high school girl with typical problems; falling out with her best friend, an annoying little brother, and a chronically unpopular standing in school. Little did she know that after the disappearance of Will Byres, her world would be flipped upside down

pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader (slow burn)

word count: 3400

tw: none besides the fact that this is unedited :)

“You’re such an asshole!” Dustin shouted as you laughed.

“Dusty! Language!” Your mother gasped, peaking . “Y/N, doing whatever you’re doing stop!”

“You heard her! Stop,” Dustin smirked.

“I’m not doing anything-“

“Give it back!” His smile dropped into a scowl, jumping up to try to reach your raised arm. “I’m late for the D&D campaign.”

“Just reach up and grab it,” You raised a brow. You loved annoying your little brother. Partially because he was just an adorable little kid but mostly because he loved to annoy you just as much. But you both knew if anyone were to so much as look at him the wrong way in front of you, you wouldn’t hesitate to break their nose.

His eyes quickly darted behind you, making you turn around to see absolutely nothing out of the ordinary behind you.

“Y/N, don’t make me use the power of the D&D league against you,” He warned. “We might be small but we’re mighty.”

“First of all, wow. I’m so scared of a bunch of 9 year olds-“

“We’re 12.”

“Whatever. And what’s the big deal anyway? It’s just a damn doll,” You smirked, making him gasp dramatically as he placed a hand on his hip.

“That is not a doll,” He spoke with offense, using his free hand to point at you as continued. “That is a limited edition action figure that can’t be touched because your nasty human hand oils will ruin the paint- You know what? Whatever. I tried to warn you. GET HER!”

“I- What? Who are you talking to- OW! FUCK!” You heard his group of friends scream before they all attacked, two knocking you on the couch as another one grabbed the doll.

“Y/F/N! Language!” Your mother called.

The boys cheered before all running off into the front yard. You looked through the window and smiled at their cheers as your brother held up the action figure victoriously. “Why do you give him such a hard time?”

“Because I’m his big sister. It’s part of the job description,” You shrugged, walking into the kitchen and placing a quick kiss on the top of her head as you made a bee line towards the fridge. “Can I go out tonight?”

“Where to?” She asked, looking over to see you chuckling. “Why do I even bother asking at this point? Yes, you can go out with Robin. What ever happened to Nancy? I thought she was your best friend.”

“Key word: was,” You sighed, hopping on the counter and watching your mom cook. You opened the bottle of soda and took a long swig before you continued. “Ever since she got with The Hair, she hasn’t really talked to me as much. I guess she’s just too cool for me now..”

“Well, if it helps any, you’re the coolest girl in my book,” She smiled over at you, placing a maternal hand on your cheek as she watched you smile. “And the prettiest! And the funniest! And, most importantly, you have the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. If Nancy can’t see that, then I don’t think that makes her very cool. I like Robin way more than I ever liked her.”

“Aw, shucks!” Robin chimed in. You’d given her a key about a month ago and she used it generously. “You’re making me blush, Mrs. Henderson! Ooh, it smells good in here. Whatcha makin’?

Robin smiled as she hopped onto the counter beside you and laid her head on your shoulder.

“Chicken Parm,” Your mom grinned. “Wanna stay for dinner?”

“We’d love to, Mom but-“

“No buts! The movie can wait. Let’s eat!” Robin interrupted.

———

“Could you ride your bike out to the Wheeler’s and tell your brother it’s time to come home? It’s getting late for a school night,” Your mom asked. “I called and Mrs. Wheeler says that they refuse to wrap up their game.”

You groaned and pouted.

“But Nancy-“

“You aren’t there for Nancy. You’re there for Dusty. Now go,” She ordered in a firm tone.

You huffed and did as told. You wished Robin hadn’t left about an hour ago so she could make this trip a little more bearable. Seeing Nancy wasn’t exactly at the top of the list of things you wanted to do tonight. Or ever, for that matter.

The truth was that the two of you had a falling out. It wasn’t rare for the two of you to argue, considering you’ve known one another since you were children. But this argument held a lot more weight to it than your previous disputes. The type of weight that settled into your mind as you fell asleep and made you drag your feet to school, knowing she would be there. She tried to apologize twice for her words but she knew how deep they’d cut you. She knew that even you had your limits and she was way out of line. Now when you passed each other in the hallways, you’d both blush, shoot a feigned smile and walk a little quicker to avoid any type of conversation.

God, if you’re real, You thought before you rang the doorbell, holding your breath to see who would answer. Nancy won’t be the one to-

“Y/N?” Nancy furrowed her brows as she opened the front door of her house.

Okay, God. You’re either not real or a dick. Noted.

“What are you doing here?” She asked. The small glimmer of hope in her eyes crushed you. All you wanted to do was hug her and tell her that you missed your late night giggle fits and little study dates. But the weight of the argument prevented you from doing so.

“I, uh.. My mom sent me to come get Dustin,” You didn’t even recognize your own voice; weak and apathetic. “She said your mom has been trying to clear them out of the basement and they won’t leave so I’m here to-“

“Y/N! Sweetheart!” Mrs. Wheeler called from behind her daughter. Nancy’s eyes quickly shot to her feet. “I haven’t seen you around in a while! How’ve you been? How’s your mom?”

“Good and good,” You smiled, hoping the tension wouldn’t be too evident. You let out a small breath of relief when the woman giggled.

“Thank the Lord that you’re here! They won’t listen to me. I know they’ll listen to you!”

An awkward silence fell upon the three of you. You nodded and shot her another tight lipped smile.

Oh, now it was evident.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help but feel that I just interrupted something?” She asked.

“Nope!”

“No!”

“Uh-huh..” The woman said slowly, looking at the two pathetic girls who looked down at their feet. “They’re in the basement.”

You nodded and made a quick bee line to the basement door. You didn’t even bother knocking- no time, you simply ran downstairs and watched them gasp. You couldn’t get out of this house fast enough. Every single inch of this house held the memories of you and your best friend.

You clenched your eyes at the force of habit. Ex best friend.

“Y/N? What are you-“ Your brother began, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“When someone asks you to go home, Dustin, you go home,” You said sternly. “It’s late. And Mrs. Wheeler has been kind enough to let you stay here and play this game all day. The least you could do is show some respect and leave at a reasonable hour. Especially on a school night, dipshit. Come on. We’re leaving.”

“But we’re in the middle of a game!” Mike whined.

“You heard her,” Nancy spoke from behind you. “Clean up. It’s time for your friends to go home.”

The boys all simply looked at the two of you with wide eyes.

“Now!” You both shouted, causing them to chaotically clean up and do as told. You grabbed Dustin by the shoulder, taking him upstairs to apologize to the Wheelers before you met the other kids outside.

“You and Nancy used to be cool!” Dustin huffed. “What happened to you guys?”

“We grew up,” You said simply, not revealing the fact that you wondered the same thing every night. “Let’s go.”

“Y/N!” Nancy called as she ran out to catch you before you got on your bike. The boys already began cycling home, leaving the two of you alone. “Hey, I know things are.. The way they are between us. And I’m sorry about that. But there’s a party on Tuesday night at Steve’s and I was wondering if… maybe you wanted to come?”

“Uh,” You smiled. “On a school night? I don’t know, Nance.”

“That was my first reaction too. Come on!” She giggled. “Barb said she’ll go if you do. And I think you might a lot of fun-“

“Ah,” Your smile faded. “You want me there so Barb will go.”

“No! No, I didn’t mean it like that at all. I want you there for me not because I want Barb to-“

“Nancy,” You interrupted softly. “I appreciate the invite. I do. Thank you. I just..”

“Yeah,” She nodded, looking away to hide the tears in her eyes. “No, yeah. I get it. It’s okay. It’s a school night anyways so..”

“Right,” You nodded. “I hope you have fun though.”

You slung your leg over your bike and began to walk it towards the street before something stopped you. Maybe it was the familiar house with the familiar girl who stood with the familiar sad face that you always seemed to cause as of recently. Maybe it was the fact that you just missed your best friend, regardless of how damn mean she could be at times.

“Hey, Nancy?” You called.

“Yeah?” She looked up.

“I don’t know.. Maybe you could, like.. Call me if anything crazy happens at the party.”

“I can call you?” She asked a little too quickly with those wide eyes of hers, making you laugh. She smiled. “Sorry. I got excited.”

“I see that,” You teased. Oh, how she missed being teased by you. “I should get going. But, uh.. Feel free to call me afterwards, okay? I’ll be up late studying anyway so it really doesn’t matter what time you do.”

She nodded, trying to hide her grin. In her world, everything seemed to finally be falling into place now that you were speaking to her again. She missed telling you things about school and about the things she did with Steve. She missed your study dates because no one matched her intellectually the way you did. She missed your quick witted comments, and she missed the fact that you both cheered each other on in life. She missed you. All of you, even the bad parts that she couldn’t stand at times. Because at the end of the day, you were like a sister to her. And sister fight all the time, right?

“Dustin! Wait up!” You called, watching as he and Will took of racing towards your house. You laughed and accepted the challenge, peddling as fast as you could to catch up with them.

“I’ll take your X-Men 134!” Will called as he sped past your house. You hit the breaks and swerved your bike, avoiding Dustin who halted to a stop.

“Son of a bitch,” He muttered.

“Tell him I stole it and to pick another one,” You offered, slightly out of breath. “I know how much you like that one so put the blame on me.”

“You’re in a good mood,” Dustin chuckled. “Did your girlfriend finally talk to you?”

“Other way around, doofus,” You rolled your eyes, hopping off of your bike to walk it into the garage. “And she’s not my girlfriend.”

“What happened between you guys anyway?” He asked, doing the same.

He’d never look at her in the same way if he knew.

“A boy,” You lied. More like the bad of an influence he is and the fact that he is morphing her into someone she’s not. At least, that’s what led to the falling out.

“Ew, don’t tell me you have a thing for Steve too!” Dustin gagged, kicking the stand out on his bike and closing the garage. You followed him inside.

“Gross,” You scrunched your nose. “Mark my words, Dustin; I will never see that boy as anything more than what he is. Trash.”

“At least we’re on the same page about something tonight,” He nodded, walking to the kitchen. “What’d mom make?”

“Chicken Parm,” You responded, already grabbing some plates. As he opened the fridge, the lights flickered and he yelped. “Oooh, maybe it’s the monster from your game.”

“That’s not funny,” He snapped. “If that were true, we’re all dead.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” You smiled. “I’m sure there’s just a nearby storm. Totally not a monster. The lights would flicker again if it was a monster.”

The lights switched off for a moment and next thing you knew, you heard your brother scream and lunge into you. He wrapped his arms around you and held on tight. When the lights turned back on, you looked down to see him clenching his eyes shut as his legs shook.

Great, now he’s gonna ask to sleep in your room.

“Can I sleep in your-“

“Yes,” You groaned, peeling him off of you. “But you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“THE FLOOR?!” He yelped.

“Yes, the floor. You kick in your sleep,” You rolled your eyes. “And I have a quiz tomorrow.”

“But-“

“You need to stop playing that damn game, dude. You’re always like this when the lights flicker.”

“But the floor is worse than sleeping alone in my room and I-“

“No! You’re sleeping on the floor. Take it or leave it.”

“Please, I-“

“Dustin!” You shouted.

“Fine!” He shouted back, taking an angry bite out of his food. “Gross, I forgot to put it in the microwave.”

You both giggled before finishing up in the kitchen and getting dressed for bed. Halfway through the night, you felt him try to crawl into your full size bed.

“Dustin. Floor.”

“Fine..”

———

“Waffles!” Dustin grinned, all but running to the table. “Pass the syrup, please.”

You mindlessly did as told as you flipped through a guitar magazine. The phone rang and your mother answered, her voice dropped for a moment before she turned around to face you.

“Did you guys ride home with Will?” Your mother asked with the phone pressed to her ear. “Joyce said that Mrs. Wheeler told her that you all left together.”

“We raced to the house and then he went home, why?” Dustin asked. Your mother blinked before repeating what he said into the phone.

“It’s probably nothing,” Your mother smiled after she hung up the phone but you didn’t miss the way her hand trembled as she brought the cup of coffee to her lips.

———

“Nice shoes,” Carol snorted as she approached you. You didn’t need to look down to see that you’d chosen your old, ratted up converse.

“Nice face,” You rebutted without missing a beat as you bumped into her shoulder. “Your nose looks different this year. Did your daddy buy that for you too?”

“At least she has a dad,” Tommy smirked, making Carol throw her head back in laughter. Your lips parted, taken aback from the statement. “What’s the matter, Henderson? Cat got your tongue?”

You quickly composed yourself, readjusting your backpack and chuckling.

“I’d rather have a dead dad than a dead beat one,” You shrugged, turning on your heels.

“What did you just say to me? Hey! Don’t walk away from me when I talk to you,” Tommy asked, grabbing your shoulder. Hard. He pushed you into the lockers with the same force, causing your head hit a handle, making you wince and curse under your breath. “You wanna say that again, loser?”

“Hey, what the fuck, dude? She’s a girl!” Steve furrowed his brows and pushed Tommy off of you, but the boy kept his eyes on you. If looks could kill. Steve looked back at you with concern. “You alright?”

“Never better,” You groaned, bringing your hand up to your head and bringing it back down to see a bit of blood. Steve’s eyes widened as he looked back up at you. “Don’t worry, Harrington. I won’t tell Nancy.”

“What?” He blinked, searching your face for any sign of . “No. I-I didn’t.. I wasn’t trying to imply-“

“Excuse me,” You interrupted before walking away, quickly making a bee line to the bathroom to get some paper towels for your head. Luckily, it was a small cut. Though it wasn’t gushing or running, the blood still pooled at the wound. It’d only take a few minutes to stop. The throbbing of the forming bruise, however, was a different story. “Fucking assholes.”

“Who?” Robin asked as she walked in. “Woah! Dude, I don’t know if you know this but your head is bleeding!”

You chuckled dryly before grabbing the mess of paper towels and putting them in the trash. Her gaze never left your face as she leaned against the wall.

“Let me guess-“

“Don’t. I don’t wanna talk about it,” You shook your head, desperate for a subject change. “Did you hear about Will Byers?”

“Yeah,” She exhaled as she responded. “Poor Jonathan.”

“Yeah,” You nodded. You couldn’t even fathom the possibility that it could’ve just as easily been your brother. “Poor Jonathan indeed.”

“Here, you’re still bleeding a bit. I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but at the very least, let me hold some pressure on it,” Robin grabbed a handful of paper towels and made you lean against the sink. She stood by your side and gently but firmly pressed, watching as you sucked in a breath before easing into her touch. “You were saying? Something about Jonathan.”

“I don’t know how he’s keeping his cool. I’d be devastated if it was Dustin.. Shit, I’m a little devastated even with Will. I mean I watched that kid grow up… One time, he convinced me, Jonathan and Nancy to dress up for their stupid game and it’s still one of my favorite memories. We all ended up on the floor laughing and grabbing at our stomachs from the force.”

“Shit,” Robin raised her brows, handing you a hat from her bag. “He’s the quiet one, right?”

“He’s shy, not quiet,” The smile from your story lingered as you put it on. “He’s a good kid. I just wish there was-“

“Steve!” You both heard a voice giggle. It was followed by sloppy footsteps and kissing noises. Robin shot you a look of disgust as Steve and Nancy stumbled in, in one of those teenage hormone sparked make out sessions. Gross. “We could get in trouble! Someone might see us!”

“Consider yourselves seen,” Your friend smirked, making them jump. They looked over as she tossed the towel in the trash. There was barely enough blood to see but you could tell they’d noticed. Steve almost winced at the fact that he knew what the hat was for, covering the evidence. “We were just on the way out. As you were, sir.”

You both grabbed your bags before making your exit. Nancy blushed furiously as Steve looked back at her.

“You think they’re good at keeping secrets?” He asked.

“Trust me,” She smiled before pulling him in again. “They’re the best.”

———

“And then we told him about the road!” Dustin ranted about his interaction with Hopper. You and your mother listened intently as you finished the dinner Dustin has yet to touch. “So can I go tonight? Search for him?”

“No,” She responded. He looked at you for help. You pursed your lips and shrugged. As much as you wanted to take his side, you’d rather see him upset than missing. He huffed, pushing away his plate and marching to his room. Your mother sighed and sat back. “My poor, sweet boy..”

“I’ll talk to him,” You muttered. You got up and walked down the hallway, knocking lightly at his door.

“Go away.”

“Dusty,” You leaned your forehead on his door. “It’s me. Let me in.”

You heard him hesitate before his mattress creeped and footsteps approached. The door unlocked and opened to reveal your teary eyed little brother.

“I’m going. Lucas and Mike and I will stick together. I took your pepper spray for protection,” He admitted as he held up your keychain. You laughed. “If you love me, you’ll cover for me and say I went to sleep early.”

You sighed, looking at him with concern.

“What kind of big sister would I be if I let that happen?” You shook your head.

“The type that doesn’t want Mom knowing you lost your virginity already,” He threatened, making your face drop. You widened you eyes before pushing him into his room and closing his door. “I’ll tell her if you don’t let me go!”

“SHH! Keep your voice down, asshole! Where did you even hear about that?” You whisper yelled.

“I overheard you talking to Robin,” He whispered.

“So instead of asking nicely to go you fucking blackmail me?!” You scoffed. “I came in here to cheer you up and all of the sudden I’m under attack? And I find out that you know about.. Ew!”

“You’re the one who taught me how to blackmail in the first place!” He argued. His face has never seemed as punchable as it did in that very moment. He saw your glare, the daggers it sent his way, and took a step back physically but continued to threaten you. “I’m going whether you cooperate or not. So we can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

“I fucking hate you, you know that?” You hissed, turning on your heels and going to your room. He stood in a silent guilt, hating that the person he looked up to the most just said that to him. Dustin drew in a shaky breath and sat on his bed for a moment before his door opened again. He looked up and saw you hand him a backpack. He furrowed his brows in confusion. “There are three pocket knives and three flashlights- one for each one of you. It’s going to rain so take your raincoat. If you don’t come back by midnight, I’ll tell mom about that gross comic book you have that is filled to the brim with cartoon tits. If you don’t come back ever, I’ll never recover. If you see or hear or feel something that’s not right, you turn around and come home. You got it?”

He grinned and nodded, running into your arms to hug you. You quickly pushed him off and lowered yourself to his eye level.

“I still hate you,” You clarified. He just laughed as you pulled him in for another hug. “Be careful. I’ll let her know you cried yourself to sleep.”

“I owe you!” He jumped out of your arms and opened his window. “Big time.”

“Oh, I know. And I intend to cash in on that. Big time.” You responded. His face scrunched in concern, almost as if he was reconsidering his whole plan, before he jumped out. You sighed, and walked back to the kitchen.

“How is he?” Your mom sat up as she saw you.

“He just needs some time to cool down. I’ll check on him in a few hours to make sure he’s still okay,” You smiled, knowing that answer perfectly satisfied your mother.

Was this your best moment; allowing your kid brother to go out alone with his kid friends in search of a missing boy? No. But you knew him. He needed this. Maybe this would be a funny story in a few years, but you spent the whole night studying in his room, waiting for him to come back. When the window finally creeped open to reveal his silhouette, you about passed out from relief.

Something told you that this boy was going to grow up to be nothing but trouble.

Chapter 2 ->

#joe keery #joe keery fanfic #joe keery fic #joe keery imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagines #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #st4 #stranger things season one

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topguncortez · 1 year

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Hi love ur writing so much ❤️❤️❤️

I was wondering if you could do ❛ hold still. this might sting a little. ❜ with Mr Jake Seresin and the kiddos?

Anywho, you deserve all those followers

Ur writing is amazing ⭐️

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Shy!Wifey and Alex Seresin warnings: blood, tears, Jake can't handle his kids getting hurt. Opposites Attract Masterlist | Hagman Masterlist Main Masterlist 3 fucking K celebration

It was a beautiful Saturday morning. The sun wasn't up high in the sky yet, making it bearable to be outside. Alex and Ella had woken their parents up early, even before their baby brother Eli could cry to be picked up from his nursery. Jake had pushed the older kids quickly so they didn't wake up Y/N or Eli. He took them downstairs and started on breakfast. Saturday Mornings equaled blueberry pancakes in the Seresin house.

Jake had also determined that today was the day that he took the training wheels off of Alex's bike. He was about Alex's age when he learned how to ride a bike, and could remember his father teaching him in the driveway over their house.

A frown graced Jake's lips as he wished that he could've grown up in a neighborhood like he lived in now. The were the only house for miles on their land in Texas, and the childhood years were lonely. Jake never wanted to grow up like that. He loved the cul-de-sac they were living in now. Alex and Ella had friends on all sides of them, and kids were constantly running around. It made Jake smile.

Currently, Y/N was sitting on a blanket in the front yard, covered in the morning shade of their house. Eli was laying on his tummy in front of her, while Ella was playing with her dolls. Jake was taking the training wheels off of Alex's bike, while the little boy put his helmet on.

"You ready?" Jake asked, as the took the last wheel off, "A big kid bike now!"

"I think so daddy," Alex nodded. Jake set the bike on the ground and looked at Alex, making sure his helmet is tight.

"Alright, let's go to the sidewalk since the driveway is at a bit of a slope," Jake said, and Alex grabbed his handle bars, walking the bike down to the sidewalk.

"Mommy, when can my training wheels come off?" Ella asked.

"Anytime you want them too," Y/N said, "Do you want them off?"

"Maybe," Ella said, looking at her brother. Even though they were roughly three years a part, Ella and Alex were competitive. The little girl tried her hardest to keep up with her older brother. Y/N smiled as Ella set her barbies down and intently watched as Alex got on his bike, and Jake steadied him.

"Okay buddy," Jake said, "Put your feet on the pedals, and one at a time, push them down."

"Okay," Alex let out a shaky breath as he slowly pushed down on the pedal, making the wheels spin. Jake easily pushed him, keeping one hand on the handlebars and the other on the back of the bike to keep him steady.

"Keep pedaling buddy," Jake said, walking a bit faster.

"Okay daddy," Alex nodded.

"A bit faster, you got it," Jake looked at his son getting the hang of the skill, "There ya go, buddy."

"Don't let go, daddy! Don't let go!" Alex said.

"I'm not," Jake said, even though he started lifting his hands off the bike. Y/N smiled as she sat up on her knees, watching as Alex and Jake went down the sidewalk. Ella's eyes grew wide as she saw her dad take his hands completely off of Alex's bike.

"Don't let go! Don't let go!" Alex said over and over as he pedaled his bike.

"You got it buddy! You're doing it!" Jake said as he stood behind his son, watching him ride his bike, "Good job!"

Alex went to look over his shoulder at his dad, but clearly wasn't ready for that skill. Jake could see the accident happening before it even did, as Alex became wobbly on his bike and fell over.

"Fuck!" Jake cursed and ran down the sidewalk towards the little boy. Y/N gasped as she heard the loud cry fill the air. She picked up Eli in her arms, moving towards the sidewalk to see Jake lifting his oldest boy into his arms.

If there was one thing Jake hated more in life than his leftovers being eaten, it's seeing his babies get hurt. He tried to fight back tears as he felt Alex's tears soak his shirt. He looked down at Alex's knee and could see that the skin was red and scrapped up. Ella wrapped her arms around Y/N's middle, not liking to see her big brother cry either.

"He's okay, baby," Y/N said, rubbing her daughter's back. Jake didn't even bother to pick up the bike as he walked back down to the house with Alex in his arms.

"Come on, Elles," Y/N took her daughter's hand and went inside going to her and Jake's room.

Jake had Alex sitting on the bathroom counter in-between the two sinks. Tears were still falling down his face as Y/N walked in. She put Eli in his playpen and Ella was in the playroom with him. Alex immediately reached out for his mom. Y/N embraced her son, pulling him into her chest as she climbed up on the bathroom counter to sit next to him.

"I told him not to let go," Alex mumbled against his mother's dress, "I told you not to let go, daddy!" He said to Jake.

"I know baby," Jake said, grabbing the first aid kit, "I'm sorry. I thought you had it."

"I don't want to learn to ride a bike," Alex pouted and Y/N rubbed his back.

"Okay, you don't have to," Jake said. Y/N could see the look in her husband's eye, and knew how much he hated blood. He was trying to put on a brave face but was feeling queasy by the sight of blood running down Alex's leg.

"Jake, how about I clean it?" Y/N asked and Jake nodded quickly. She tried to stifle her laugh as they switched spots and Y/N grabbed some gauze and anti-biotic cleanser.

"Hold still," Jake said, wrapping his arm around Alex's small body, "This might sting a little." Y/N knelt down in front of her son, and gently cleaned up the blood that was down his leg up to the scrape. Alex sucked in a breath as the peroxide settled into his skin. The second that Y/N pressed a cotton ball to his knee he jumped.

"It's okay," Y/N cooed, "I know it hurts but I gotta get in clean, okay."

"C-can I have a superman band aid?" Alex asked and Y/N nodded. Y/N looked up at her husband who was looking away from the sight of blood and trying not to cry seeing his little boy in pain. Y/N shook her head and finished cleaning up the wound and putting a superman band aid on it.

"All better," Y/N said and placed a kiss on the band aid. She stood up and helped Alex off the counter, "How about you go down stairs and I'll get you a snack?" Alex nodded and took off running downstairs.

"I feel like that's worse for me than it is him," Jake sighed out.

"It'll always be like that," Y/N said and stepped in between Jake's thighs. Jake rested his hands on her hips, "We're parents. We never want to see our kids in pain. It'll never get easier to see them in pain."

"Well it's a good thing they have you," Jake said, "Cause I was starting to get a bit woozy."

"Oh I know," Y/N laughed, "You're good with the vomit and the snot. We balance each other out."

"What would I do without you?" Jake asked and pecked his wife's lips.

"Be on the ground passed out," Y/N smiled and kissed her husband again.

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thewankbankuk · 1 year

Text

Rob was sat outside a cafe, every day for the past month he had come to the cafe and ordered only a coffee, sitting in the window watching the world pass by. Today’s weather was fine and sunny. Rob decided to sit outside catch a little sun rays whilst watching the world go by he was looking forward to a hot long summer the weather forecasters had promised. With not being able to afford a holiday doing this drinking a fresh coffee was his idea of a holiday. He had just started a mundane job working nights at the only business in town still employing and even though his pay was minimum it just about paid his rent and pay for the coffee he sat here sipping while nothing else interesting happened in his very little unimportant life. He dreamed of getting away from the little he had, he knew at the end of the day the one thing it came down to was money and with that in his mind Rob knew it wasn’t going to happen any time soon so, he picked up his coffee cup and had another sip.

Looking across the street from the cafe the world was quietly doing nothing of interest for Rob, a few cars went past in the last 15 minutes and the street was quite. He decided it was time to go. Just then in the distance approaching towards him he heard the rawe of more than one bikes and then came down the road at least 35 bikers all on identical bikes, with excitement Rob thought I’m going nowhere I’ve got to see this. He had always liked bikers and leathers, never had a bike didn’t ride or owned a bike, Rob remembered about a roommate in college who had a bike and loved the smell of his leathers having worn and wanked off in his roommates gear when he wasn’t there. How in an instant the memories flooded back he wondered if his roommate ever suspected anything. Looking at the bikers they weren’t ‘Hells Angels’ they all had sports bikes dressed in identical Dainese 1 piece suits all about the same hight and body size he also noticed they all wore the same Alpinestars T8 mx boots. and HandDroid gloves. It’s a bit strange he thought, all dressed the same. one or two maybe but, all dress the same and on the same bikes!

He started to fantasies about wearing the same gear what they wore and being a member of the gang. Just then the bikers pulled up directly on the opposite side of where Rob sat. Only twenty yards away. They all stopped and just sat there no movement all with their helmet visors down The biker at the front of the pack dressed the same but had a mirror visor while the rest had black visors on their helmets. The biker at the front of the pack raised is hand and the other bikers stopped their engines and just stared forward not moving. Oh boy, Rob thought to himself have I died and gone to heaven looking at the beautiful site not too far from where he sat. Rob got hard and thankfully he was able to hide it sat down with legs under the table.

Whilst the world went on all around him he couldn’t take his eyes off them all. Who where they? Where they come from, where were they going and bloody hell they are all hot has hell he would love to have gear like that! Thoughts popped into his head the head of the bikers turned his head towards Rob if he could read his mind and looked directly at him. Rob went red, quickly turned his head around as if he had not notice the biker looking directly at him. Rob tried has he might to make the images pop out of this head but with the sight of what was in front of him he couldn’t shake it off. He started to sweat profusely looking at the biker with the silver visor at the front the only one looking at him and not the road ahead. It seemed there was a connection between them both. Just then the leader of the bikers got off his bike and started slowly, robotically walking with force to where Rob was sat. ‘Shit what do I do’ Rob thought to himself. Everything slowed down in an instant Rob was transfixed on this biker walking to wards him he could feel his heart pounding as if it was going to rip out of this chest at such a sight of perfection that walking towards him.

The biker approached him still with his helmet visor down which mirrored Robs face has if he was look directly at himself. The biker bent down so he was at the same hight of Rob sitting down and asked “So, you like my gear and bikers then Boy?” The Red faced Rob softly spoke softly “yes sir” The biker entered Robs mind and snapped at him then lifted his visor up showing an all black face which looked like rubber his eyes where just deep black orbs. Rob was transfixed by them his mind emptied, his breathing and heart slowed down back to normal something changed in Rob has he looked directly into them and shouted in his mind “Yes Sir!” Good, said the biker. “Your mine now” with that Rob stood up in a trans like state, “I have a gift for you boy, follow me!” said the biker and like that Rob followed him.

Rob got up from where he sat and followed the leader of the gang walking towards the other bikers all still just looking forward, no movement with the engines switched off. The leader walked towards his own bike with Rob just a few feet behind picking up a spare helmet from off his bike Rob followed him mesmerised down the street a couple of hundred yards. Time slowed again, the leader telepathically informed Rob that he had other plans for him and been chosen to be his slave of his collective but, not a biker he was going to be his pillion he’d read Rob’s thoughts and knew exactly what Rob had always wanted, he told him that his collective of bikers from all different backgrounds all are part of a greater good and never and would never want go back to their past human lives some had given in to want whilst others had had it taken away from them. All past lives are now a collective, thinking and acting as one and I am the Leader. ‘You will never age, never need food or drink, never get sick and you will never die. You will be upgraded over time to blend in to future scenarios. ‘This is your fate, there is no return’. They finish walking it felt like ages, they came to an abandoned factory to where they entered the building and into a large dimly lit room. The ambience of broken windows above gave the light, a broken shutter door and three walls covered in graffiti was where Rob was going to be reborn. The Biker leaded told Rob to strip, Rob did has he was told, within seconds eager to please his new master stood there completely naked still with his raging hard on. Without warning the Leader placed the identical helmet to his own except the visor was black and not silver down over Rob’s head. In the visor Rob could see swirling patterns and he thought he could hear sounds from within helmet. Rob just stood there in his trans like state. “One last thing I need to do“ said the Leader and within a second the leader spun Rob around and a rock hard thick full 12 inch dick of formed out of the leaders leathers oozing out a black cum, without ceremony he frust it towards Robs hole, Rob didn't move he stood exactly in the same position whilst his master started to pound him hard and fast. The process only lasted a minute but in Rob’s mind the pleasurable experience was never ending. When finished Rob just took it still staring into the pattens of the visor. “I’ve seeded you…. You are my slave now!” The black cum oozed out of Rob’s arse with the leader still inside Rob’s arse held him tight his naked body within moments his skin started to change from flesh to rubber then finally to leathers to which the other members of the BikerDrone gang wore. Then hand droid gloves stated to form on his hands and then boots, the same T8’s the BikerDrones wore. His master still attached seeing every inch of flesh was now gone replaced by leather he looked like every other member of the BikerDrone gang. His master enjoyed one last pump of cum from his dick inside Rob and then slowly pulled out Rob’s new suit sealed up behind.

“Slave!” the voice echoed through Rob’s head. “You know you want to please me. Listen to me and you will make me very proud of you.” Rob’s eyes were focussed on the swirling patterns on the inside of the visor of this new helmets visor. His mind was now open to the words being spoken by the voice. “You are a biker, you need wear bike leathers, wearing boots and gloves. You will never remove these leather. You love to pillion. You feel incomplete when you are not wearing bike leathers. You like to ride motorbikes. You are my slave, I am your MASTER. You will serve your MASTER. You will be my pillion. You can not and will never take off the leathers that I gave you, your are wearing my gift. Saying the same things. Over, and over the voice went on.

After a few hours Rob’s pupils were completely dilated and black orbs. He was in total submission to his MASTER. He would please and would serve his MASTER. “Get up slave, welcome to my collective of BikerDrones it’s time to ride”. And with that he followed is master out back to the other members of the BikerDrones, pillioned holding on the back of this master has they all rode off together out of the town never to return.

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cakeheavenly999 · 1 month

Text

Homegirl

yuji itadori x fem!reader wc: 1693 tags: weed sex/yuji calls you baby not beta read!

yuji is the type of guy who grows feelings for his girl best friend. i wanna kiss him so bad...

your toes curled in your fluffy socks as you sat beside yuji on his living room couch. well, his older brothers living room couch. you had been so busy with college you didnt have time for your best friend; until now. it was finally spring break, and you were finally back in your hometown. of course you were staying with your parents for the week since they wanted to see you, but they werent the only people you came back for.

when you told yuji you were back, he blew up your phone with excited texts and begged to facetime you. of course you agreed. you talked with him all night and woke up laughing together when you realized you fell asleep on the phone with one another.

no one was closer to you than your homeboy yuji itadori.

when you were free that evening, he invited you over to smoke. of course you said yes. you told your parents you were going to see yuji and jumped on your old bike, riding down to his place with a bag of weed in your back pocket, and a lighter in the front of your denim shorts. yuji lived in the big house two blocks ahead of yours. it was impossible to miss and the two of you always loved doing everything together. its funny how things worked out that way.

you jumped off your bike, throwing it in his front yard as you ran up to his front door. he beat you to it. with a big shimmering smile, he wrapped you up in a tight hug and pulled you into his house. the sun was starting to set, and the smoke session was about to begin.

choso was nice enough to let you and yuji smoke in the house instead of sending you to the porch. as long as you didnt burn anything down. “its been so long since we smoked together, im sorry i only have cruddy weed.” you apologized while eyeing your crumbs of cheap weed nobara had slid you.

an exchange for you being so kind as to drop her off at a sneaky link. the room was lit via the tv and a small table lamp on the side of you, making your contribution even more pathetic. “you know i would never ask you to bring weed. and this is all my brothers anyway.” he snickered as he emptied the shredded tobacco from the cigar wrap into a little, black grocery bag. “sukunas? he wont be mad?” you asked with worry as yuji rolled his eyes. “he stole my favorite red nike dunks. so im stealing some of his weed.” he frowned as he got into the much larger bag of weed to break up a few nugs.

“be the bigger person.” you joked and gently nudged his thigh with your foot before your eyes returned to the tv. the two of you had put on an anime to watch, but neither of you were actually paying attention to it. just some background noise for the smoke sesh. with the blunt now rolled (and pearled) yuji scrambled for a lighter among the snacks and bottles of water. “here,” you pulled one out of the front pocket of your jean shorts. “dont lose it.” you smiled at him as he took your lighter. your fingers brushed his but you thought nothing of it.

you were yujis homegirl. and of course he was your homeboy. people always assumed you were dating, but that wasnt the case. you did have some unsavory thoughts about yuji from time to time, but he was your friend before he was an object of your desire. the blunt was passed to you and the ceramic ashtray was moved to the center for the both of you to share.

the weed was superb. sukuna really was the greatest plug. making yuji the greatest plug via association. your eyes were starting to feel heavy as you leaned against yuji with the brown blunt becoming shorter and shorter. “should we roll another? use the weed i brought.” you offered him the blunt and he hummed in deep thought. you could see the shine of his thin gold chain dangling around his neck from the tvs glow. it pulled you in closer until yuji was holding the blunt, looking down at your hand resting on his thigh.

“you okay?” yuji asked lazily as his body sank back against the velvet couch. you nodded, your hand still as you gave his muscled leg a small squeeze. his breath hitched softly as you moved in even closer. “whatre you doin?” he mumbled as the blunt hung from his lips. his eyes on you. “nothin.” you whispered as you eyed his crotch through his black basketball shorts. you were sitting on your knees now, your heart pounding in your chest until yuji grabbed you by the shoulder and pushed you away. his cheeks were red and he was frowning.

“you dont have to do that.” yuji didnt sound angry with you. just anxious. “i want to though…” you trailed off with a weak frown, watching yuji put the blunt in the ashtray. “lets do somethin for you too.” the offer was quiet, the tv casting you both in a colorful glow as your pink haired best friend inched closer on the couch.

your lips met. soft and welcoming. you knew in that moment that this was something you both wanted. your tongues met with each messy kiss, drool coating your chin as yuji made his way on top of you. your back was digging into the arm of the couch now. your heart racing as your arms wrapped around him with a whine leaving your lips as he pulled away and moved lower.

“wheres choso?” you panted as yuji sucked and kissed along your jugular, lightly and cautiously. “sleep upstairs.” you pulled at the back of his shirt, stifling another whine. “sukuna?” you worried about him the most. “his babymama house.”yuji mumbled against your skin as his warm hands slipped under your shirt, pulling at the front clasp of your bra as he sucked and licked at your throat.

you wanted him to leave marks. more soft sounds passed your lips as yuji pulled away and bunched your shirt over your chest. your nipples hardened once they were exposed to the cool air of the room. he looked down at you, contemplating his next move as you pulled your hands away and tugged at his shirt. he took your silent request and pulled the article of clothing over his head and haphazardly dropped it to the floor. his chest was exposed, and he dove in for another round of kisses as his large palms massaged your breasts. you were like dough in his hands. moldable and pliable for him to enjoy. it was like one of many fantasies you silently wished would come true.

his hands moved to your jean shorts, pulling at the button and zipper as he kept your moaning lips distracted with his. the denim was being yanked down your hips with your panties bunched in the fabric. they dangled off of your ankle as his hands moved between your thighs. his thumb rubbed at your clit. his fingers pumped in and out of you carefully crooking upwards. swallowing your yelps and cries as you trembled beneath him with nothing short of delight. when the sound of shuffling clothing returned you felt the pooling heat in your stomach leave a dull burn as his fingers pulled away.

you needed yuji inside of you. his cock rested against the meaty petals of your pussy, the tip of his cock meekly greeted your clit with a few light, affectionate rubs. “can i?” he whispered, his voice airy. needy. just as needy as you. you gave him a lazy nod for a response, your body tensing when his strong arms lifted your hips into his lap, leaving you bent as he sank his thick, throbbing cock into your soaked cunt.

his hips rocked with yours, his gold chain swinging before your eyes. the anime was drowned out by wet smacks of skin and soft moans. each drag of his cock left you light headed. you clenched tighter around him, mumbling soft sobs and ‘oh fucks’ with each piston. the mushroomy tip of his cock nudged perfectly against that spongy wall inside you. “your body was made for my cock. feel it baby?” he cooed, leaning in to meet your lips with his own. his rhythm steady and quick as he fucked you against the leather couch, letting you drag your nails against the bare skin of his back. it felt so good. better than you could have imagined. maybe it was the weed. maybe it was the feelings you held onto. maybe it was in yujis dna to have excellent dick. whatever the answer was, it was leading you to an orgasm; fast.

your toes curled in your fuzzy socks, your breathing quickened as yujis thrusts became sloppy and rough. a thin trail of spit connected the two of you as he pulled away, pushing your thighs apart to get even deeper inside of you. “s-so deep yuji- mm’cummin…” you whimpered pathetically as your pussy fluttered around him. sucking him deeper and deeper as he nudged against your cervix. the sudden feeling left the coil in your stomach winding impossibly tight as yuji nodded. “you can come. cum with me? cum with me please? please baby?” he huffed and panted as his cock throbbed inside of you.

you nodded, your body quaking as your orgasm hit you like a punch. your body writhed as yuji hunched over you with a deep growl.

his cock pulsed, the feeling of a gooey warmth left your thighs trembling. the throbbing sensation intensified as your body grew sensitive from overstimulation. you could feel the pearl colored cum starting to leak out of you along with your own juices. but thats not what you were worried about.

it was the post nut clarity telling you that you just fucked your homeboy on his older brothers couch.

#꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ hentai!#tw gif warning #yuji itadori #jjk yuji #yuji x reader #yuji x you #yuji x y/n #yuji itadori x reader #yuji itadori x you #yuji itadori x y/n #yuji smut #yuji jjk #itadori #itadori yuuji

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tigerlilla · 1 year

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meeting mitsuya

mitsuya x reader one shot sfw

it was a dreary tuesday afternoon. the shop was empty; you’d had only two customers all day. you liked the quiet days like these. that’s why you started working at mood fabrics- it was quiet.

on slow days like today, you’d play your playlist over the speaker system. it was an odd collection of obscure british grunge mixed with classical, hyper pop, taylor swift, and sad indie songs. it all worked together, in your mind.

you sat at the front counter, crocheting your latest sweater. it was a bit ironic-you worked at a fabric store, but you much preferred working with yarn. you could never manage to sew in a straight line.

who would ride a motorcycle in the rain, you thought, hearing the loud engine coming down the street. you looked up at the bike approached, watching as it pulled against the yellow curb right in front of the store. your eyes traveled back down to your crochet. it was quite typical-people would park in front of the store to go someplace nearby. you secretly enjoyed watching their cars get towed.

the bell above the door rang. you looked up only to see the biker pull off his white helmet, a purple mullet falling into place on his head. his face wore a bored expression, a small frown on his lips.

you didn’t get the chance to say anything, he was already headed for the back. you stayed sitting at the counter, scanning the aisles for his purple hair, his black jacket, the sound of his heavy boots.

it didn’t take long for him to find what he was looking for. he was on his way back up to the counter before you could fully register what was going on. it wasn’t often you got men in the store, much less biker men with leather jackets and a knife hooked on his back pocket.

“two yards of each, please,” he said, placing two bolts of fabric down on the counter.

“did you find everything all right?” you ask, laying his fabric out. it was a pink paisley pattern.

“yeah. where’s rob?” he asks, glancing around the store.

“um, he only works mornings. do you need something? i can take a message or…”

“oh,” the man frowned, “it’s fine. i usually come by before school but i was running late today,” the man laughs lightly.

“you’re a student?” you ask, folding his first fabric. the white markings on his black jacket seem familiar.

“no, uh, i was taking my sisters to school. this fabric is actually for dresses for them.”

“you sew dresses for your sisters?” you ask.

“yeah,” he smiles, “they always bug me to make ‘em stuff.”

“that’s sweet.” you’re confused by him. he rides a motorcycle, yet he’s making frilly dresses for his sister. thick rings complement his black nails, but contrast his fuzzy cardigan.

he nods, hands in his pockets.

you cut his last fabric in silence, folding it and sliding it into the bag.

“i like the music,” he notes. “it’s an interesting mix.”

you look up, “thank you.” ‘back to the old house’ plays over the speaker.

“i like the mix of morrissey and taylor swift. it works, somehow,” he says.

you pause, looking at him. “that’s what i’ve always said.”

the man laughs, his lilac eyes squinting. it makes your stomach twist.

“your total is 30 dollars,” you say, placing his last yard of fabric in his bag.

the expression on the man’s face shifts, “thirty for six yards? that’s not right.”

“you got a discount,” you smile.

the man raises an eyebrow.

“employee discount,” you explain. “i never use it so…” you hand him the bag.

“maybe i should start coming in the afternoons,” the man smiles, “you’re way better than rob. plus, i have to come back and hear more than two songs of your playlist.”

you laugh, your cheeks slightly warming.

“y/n,” he says, reading your name tag, “i’ll see you later.”

the man placed his helmet over his purple hair and walked out the door. you watched as he placed his bag of fabric under the seat of his bike. he was on his bike speeding away before the engine had fully started.

you finally let the smile you’d been trying to hide break free. you giggled softly and looked down at the money he handed you. you hadn’t even checked to make sure it was the right amount. something about that man made you not want to look away.

that was the day you met takashi mitsuya, and since then, you’ve never stopped looking.

#mitsuya #mitsuya imagines #tokrev mitsuya #mitsuya tr #mitsuya scenarios #tokyo revengers mitsuya #toman mitsuya #takashi mitsuya #mitsuya hcs #mitsuya takashi #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya x y/n #mitsuya fluff #soft mitsuya #tokyo revengers takashi mitsuya #tokyo rev fluff #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers

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ficthots · 2 years

Text

Destined for Greatness

A/N: Hi everyone! I hope you all enjoy the new area I’m dabbling in. This is the longest fic I have ever written and I am so in love with it. As always let me know what you guys think & enjoy!

Word Count: 16k+

Warnings: Smut, 18+ content, DNI if you are under 18!

A lot of things in your life were accidents, including yourself. When you were six and learning to ride a bike and crashed head first into your neighbors mailbox, that was an accident. When you were fourteen and forgot to scan your mascara at the self checkout at Walmart, that was an accident. When you were seventeen and turned in your best friend's homework instead of your own, that was an accident. The biggest accident of all was you, though.

Your mom accidentally found herself pregnant with you when she was only seventeen. She was in no shape to have a child and immediately shunned you when you were born. To say you had little to no relationship with her was an understatement. She was a wanderer and would go without contact for years at a time, randomly popping up to send you a text asking if you had fifty dollars to send her. You didn’t hate her anymore, as you grew up you understood that she was just a child when she had you, in no place to raise a baby and you couldn’t hold that against her anymore. Especially when you realized who you did have in your life, particularly grandma Elise.

Your grandmother stepped up to the parenting plate instead, taking you and raising you as her own. She had been single most of her life, losing her husband when your mom was only twelve and raised you on her own. You would do anything for her. She was your anchor and your everything. The only family you had. Except for the family next door.

Grandma Elise was a New York transplant, moving into the city when she was in her twenties to chase a life she wasn’t sure of. She stumbled into a friendship with May after she began working at a local diner to pay for her next meal, quickly moving in together and becoming attached at the hip thereafter. When Elise brought you home to the small two bedroom townhouse, May was there to help.

Your little life with your grandma and neighbors was wonderful. Little six year old you knew no different after all, but when a little boy, who was just a hair shorter than you, was sitting on May’s porch steps that fall afternoon, you didn’t realize just how much your life would change. You battled within yourself if you should go talk to him when your grandmother came up next to you, crouching down at the window to see what you were looking at. She nudged you, sending you a wink as she encouraged you to go introduce yourself. Still hesitant about the decision, you took in a deep breath as you opened your front door and set your sights on the house next door.

You made your way across the yards and smiled at the young boy, offering a small wave, trying to keep a distance of a few feet between the two of you. He looked at you through his glasses, eyes squinting to see you in the sun, hand smushed to his chin, holding a stick with his other hand.

“Do you know May and Ben?” You finally worked up the courage to ask. He nodded his head, eyes falling back down to the stick in his grasp. “They’re my aunt and uncle. Do you live next door?” You mimicked his movement, nodding your head and letting your eyes fall to your sandals.

Standing in silence, slowly bouncing between leaning on either of your legs, you finally offered your name, asking him if he wanted to ride bikes. He sighed and looked back up at you. “I don’t have a bike. I have a skateboard though,” he pushed his thumb to the side, pointing at a small piece of wood on four wheels.

You smiled and walked up to him, moving the board back and forth, “I’ve never ridden one before. Is it hard?” He watched you carefully, before he dropped the stick and picked up the board, walking to the sidewalk a few steps away.

He shrugged, getting on and pushing with ease as your jaw fell slack at how easy he moved. He went around the street easily before coming back in front of you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You wanna try?” You nodded eagerly as you carefully got on the board, one hand holding onto the mailbox in front of you.

He tried to show you how to balance yourself, stumbling over his words as he attempted to teach you how to properly ride his skateboard. In a split second, the board shot out from under your feet and you fell flat on your butt. You stared at each other in shock before laughing together.

The boy ran to grab his board as it rolled into the street, you stood back up and watched as the boy approached, taking him in. His brown hair was neatly combed and styled, his part to the right, his black rimmed glasses sat high on his nose, he wore a striped t-shirt with black shorts and worn out converse with no socks.

When he stood in front of you again he offered another smile. “I’m Peter. You wanna try again? I won’t let you fall this time, deal?” You peered at his outstretched hand in front of you, taking it in yours with a firm shake as you let a smile form on your face again. You two didn’t even notice that your grandma and his aunt were standing between the two yards, smiles adorning their features as they watched you two quickly bond.

Peter did not hold out to his deal, by the end of the day your knees were badly scraped and your elbows ached, but you had never had so much fun. Neither of you wanted to go inside that night as the street lights turned on, your grandma calling you inside for dinner. Peter cocked his head as he saw the older woman in the doorway. “Do you live with your grandma?” You turned and looked to see her back to you two, heading back inside. Nodding your head in response as you turned to look at him again, hands clasped tightly together behind your back you quickly spoke. “My mom left when I was born and I don’t know my dad. I’ve lived here my whole life,” he smiled softly at you when May called out to him from the front window.

“I have to go, Aunt May made meatloaf. It’s really good you should try it,” you giggled at him as you waved bye, saying you would see him tomorrow. The next morning you waited out front for Peter and you two walked to school together, forming a habit that would happen everyday until graduation. When you arrived at school you showed him your desk and forced one of your classmates out of their desk next to yours so Peter could sit next to you.

That was just the start of the friendship that you two would have. You had never connected with someone quicker than Peter. He was like your other half, your confidant, your partner in crime. When one of you appeared everyone knew the other was only half a second behind. It was how you two functioned. You knew Peter was destined for greatness, it was just the type of personality he had, you just didn’t know how it would come to him.

Peter was honestly the smartest person you had ever met and as he excelled in every subject known to man, you floundered in math and science. He tutored you almost every night, screaming matches ensuing as he grew frustrated because you just couldn’t get chemistry. After you two had finished another argument you noticed how close he was to you. “Parker, I swear to God if you don’t get out of my face in the next ten seconds, I’m gonna drop your ass so fast you won’t even see it coming,” he leaned forward, practically nose to nose with you. “I’d love to see you try, sweetheart,” the pet name that he only used when he was trying to taunt you slipped from his lips, setting your skin on fire with anger.

Your hand clamped onto the back of his neck as you flew out of your desk chair, you both hit your bedroom floor with a thump as you two fought for dominance. When he began to pin your left hand to the floor, you used your right to pinch him on his side. A loud hiss escaped his mouth as he faltered, letting you go.

The bedroom door flew open and your grandma stood there with her arms crossed as she saw you laying on top of Peter, hurling curse words at one another. “Are you kidding me? Knock it off you two! You're making the whole damn house shake,” you both stopped, out of breath at the small exertion and sat opposite each other. Your back was leaning against your bed, his straight against the wall, legs outstretched against one another.

When you both calmed down he held his hand out to you, your hand wrapped around his as you both stood with each other, taking your respective spots at your desk. The heels of your hands pushed into your eyes, rubbing hard as you sighed. “I just can’t get this Peter, my brain doesn’t function like yours. I’m gonna fail chem, it’s fine,” he shook his head, hand coming to the back of your head and forcing you to look at the homework and lab sheets laid out in front of you.

“No, it’s my personal mission to have you pass, okay? You’re gonna get this, I promise,” you rolled your eyes, knowing Peter’s promises were a 50/50 shot at coming through or not. This was a time that the 50/50 odds leaned in your favor, allowing you to pass your class and move forward to senior year.

You two had big plans for senior year, applying for colleges, internships, all the works. A few things happened that were not in the plans, one being Ben dying. It had rattled you all, Peter couldn’t sleep at his home for weeks, opting for your floor or bed instead. You helped May around her house as often as you could, your grandma practically moved in with her to make sure she would continue to function. Your attention went to Peter, trying to help him with the grief that overpowered him at times in ways you just didn’t understand. He acted like he had killed him, not some low life mugger, but he wouldn’t listen to that. It was around the same time Peter started going through changes that were not in the plans for senior year either.

You noticed he had been acting weird, his reflexes were on another level for example. The previous week you had knocked over a soda off his desk and he caught it so quickly that nothing spilled out of it. It was falling, turning upside down. You two stared at each other, before he awkwardly cleared his throat, moving on like nothing had happened.

He was constantly warm, like he was his own personal heater. On your way home from school, in the middle of winter, you stood on his board as he lightly held your hand, dragging you along because you never did learn how to ride it, and the wind was whipping against your face. Your eyes watered, you felt like ice, but Peter was warmer than ever.

His strength was out of control, but you knew Peter did not work out. His shirts fit tighter than normal, at times straining against his arms. His veins in his hands and forearms were more prominent. Should you have been looking at him wondering what those veins would look like, flexed, as he used them for some extracurricular activities? Probably not, but shoot you. You’re only human!

Peter bumped into you one night, trying to maneuver around you in the kitchen and when his shoulder collided with your chest, you clutched at the spot, wind knocking out of you. “What the fuck, Peter?” His eyes were wide as he set the plates down on the counter behind him as he started quickly uttering apologies. His large hand went over the contact spot, rubbing hard on your sternum, shaking you. “You’re good, champ. Shake it off,” you scoffed at him as he went back to what he was doing.

You were starting to worry when he was coming to school with insane bruises all over him. His face, neck, hands, every part you could see. He refused to tell you what was going on, offering lame lies instead that he must’ve known you didn’t believe. How many times can you fall in the shower? He stopped responding to texts between ten pm and four am, when he had never missed texts from you before, middle of the night be damned. You were fed up and decided to take matters into your own hands.

Finding the ladder at the back of his house, you pushed it up against the side of the house, starting your ascent to his window. You knew about his bedroom locks, he had even installed them on your bedroom door. When you reached his window you pushed up, climbing inside and trying to dodge the small bookshelf and not step on something disgusting that covered the entire floor of his room.

Empty. You muttered under your breath as you checked your phone. 1:42 am and he was nowhere to be found. As you started looking around you saw a sewing machine sitting in his closet, making your eyebrows furrow. Since when did he sew? His camera and backpack were gone. Your eyes drifted over the small cork board above his desk. Your eyes scanned the million pictures of you and him, candid shots of you, pictures of Aunt May and your grandma, you smiled.

What was most definitely not in the plans for senior year was Peter becoming a superhero and instant celebrity for New York. You hear him fall through the window behind you and as you turn, arms crossed over your chest ready to give him the third degree, your jaw fell open at the sight before you. Your best friend stood there, head to toe in spandex, hands raised in front of you.

“Okay, let me explain,” your hand clamped over your mouth as he pulled the mask off, revealing it was not in fact a one piece suit like you originally presumed. His hair was a complete mess, sticking up in a million different directions, which was turning into his daily look more often than not. Now you know why.

He had a large cut on his cheek, his eyes were wide, trying to gauge your reaction. There was an awkward silence between you two as your eyes scoured over him multiple times when you knew you needed to say something.

“Do you do cosplay now?” was all you muttered out behind your hand, trying to think of a reasonable explanation for this because Peter was most definitely not Spider-Man. He was the least coordinated person you knew and from the videos you had seen of the vigilante it could not have been your best-friend of nearly thirteen years. The man couldn’t go a day without tripping over something and swinging from buildings without colliding into them, it was just in no way possible. Yet as you stared at him and weighed the odds, the truth settled over you.

His hands dropped to his side, his head falling forward as his eyes shut, a laugh falling from his mouth. “Yes, I do cosplay now. I go out in the middle of the night and take pictures of myself to post on a super cool blog I have,” you couldn’t fight that smile that was breaking through your faux steely demeanor. You two started laughing and before you knew it you were hunched over, out of breath, tears streaming down your cheeks as Peter was on his knees, hands braced in front of him on the floor, trying to catch his breath.

When you two calmed down you walked over to him, tangling your hand in his hair and pulling his head back to meet your gaze. “Oh you have so much explaining to do, Spider-Boy,” he chuckled and stood up, grabbing your hand to sit you on the bed. “For starters, it’s Spider-Man,” he said, standing in front of you, peeling the suit off as he started explaining how it happened.

You two talked for hours that night as you gently put Neosporin over his cut even though he assured you it would be gone in a few hours, but you couldn’t trust that, explaining how infections worked to him. He let you do it every time though and let you ask all the questions you could think of even well after the sun had come up. He even let you look at the web shooters he had made, accidentally setting it off and watching it hit the wall with a loud splat.

Peter laid back on his pillow, letting you rest your head on his chest, snuggling into his side, realizing how much you had missed your other half the last few months. Your regular sleepovers had all but ended, but the comfort of Peter was like home. His soft t-shirt under your cheek, the warmth radiating from him, his steady heartbeat pounding beneath your ear. His familiar scent of cinnamon and cedarwood drifting to your nose and another note that was just simply Peter all but calmed your nerves about his secret life. You trusted him, he knew what he was doing even if you didn’t like it.

You were drifting into sleep, Peter a step ahead of you when you mumbled out to him, “Peter?” He hummed in response, hand rubbing your arm. “Can you take me flying tomorrow?” He chuckled, lips landing on the crown of your head. “Whatever you want, sweetheart,” and for the first time, the pet name didn’t irk you.

That became a regular occurrence on his patrol nights. He would fall into your room and you had a secret stash of medical supplies under your bed that you would pull out, half asleep, and dress his wounds as he went over his nights with you. Sometimes your hands lingered too long and you were worried he was going to catch it, but if he did he never said anything.

Your hands were trembling as you stood in line, waiting for your name to be called, Peter nowhere to be found. It was graduation day and by some dumb luck you had managed to graduate with honors the same as Pete. You were terrified you were going to trip and as that thought crept into your head, forcing you to realize just how embarrassing that would be, you heard that familiar voice behind you, making you jump.

“Don’t worry babe, I won’t let you fall,” you turned quickly and saw his backpack on his gown, but before you could say anything your name echoed through the speakers, your grandma and May cheering for you as Peter nudged you forward, right on your heels as his name was right after.

Once the ceremony ended you found yourself hugging your small friend group that you had grown fond of over the course of high school, offering congratulations to them all when you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around you from behind and hurl you into the air. The small scream that flew from your mouth was traumatizing, your nails clawing into his arm, cap falling off.

His laugh boomed as he set you down, catching your cap in the process. You whipped around, too damn happy to be mad at him and threw yourself in his arms. The familiar grasp around your waist made your heart flutter as you jumped up and down, shouting the entire time. “We did it! We’re fucking done!” he followed your same chant, starting to jump with you when your grandma and May found you both.

“Come on, picture time!” You leaned into Peter’s side, head resting between his shoulder and chest, arms wrapping around his waist as they snapped pictures, your smile the biggest it had been. “So, Spidey duties were absolutely necessary minutes before our graduation?” you mumbled out to him so your guardians couldn’t hear. He pinched your side, forcing a giggle to bubble from your throat. “It absolutely was, but I made it in time,” you looked up at your best friend, his large chocolate eyes piercing your own.

“I thought you weren’t showing and were gonna let me walk alone, possibly even letting me trip up the steps in these death straps,” you gently kicked his leg trying to show him the wedges you were wearing, but his eyes never left yours. As you continued to talk, he smirked, lips finding your hairline. “Never sweetheart,” your cheeks flushed when your grandma finally called out to you both saying we were going out to dinner.

Peter squeezed your arm as he pulled away saying he was going to talk to some friends real fast before we left. You walked over to the ladies, wanting to see the pictures, when you felt eyes on your back. Elise and May both said to meet them at the curb when we were ready. You barely responded as you looked around and when your eyes met the lanky figure across the field your breath caught in your throat.

She looked like hell. Skinnier than the last time you saw her, veins prevalent on her arms, hair scraggly, but you could tell she had put on her best dress for the event. You fought within yourself if you needed to walk over and say something or just turn and walk away, but before you could make a decision your legs started moving in that direction anyways.

Her smile filled her features, not quite reaching her eyes as you approached her. “Oh honey, you look beautiful. I’m so proud of you,” you stood about a foot away from her as she tried to reach out to touch you, but you immediately flinched back. “What’re you doing here?” she seemed taken aback by your question, but plastered the same fake smile on her face.

“I’m here to see my baby graduate of course,” you shook your head, trying to not meet her gaze that stared straight into you. “I’m not your baby. Really, what’re you doing here?” She faltered, hands shaking as her eyes darted around. “Sweetheart,” your eyes snapped up to her, stepping back as the name fell from her lips. She wasn’t allowed to call you that, it didn’t hold the same meaning. It sat in the air between you two, seeping into your skin, making you feel nauseous.

Before she could continue you felt a tall figure take their place behind you, hand slipping to your waist and pulling you back into him. Her smile grew as she took in the boy behind you. “Oh my god, Peter! You’ve gotten so big,” you didn’t need to see his face to know he wasn’t offering her the same kindness in return.

“May and Elise are waiting, we need to go,” he gently started pushing you towards your family, leaning forward to whisper in your ear that he’d meet you in a second. As you started to walk away, you spared a glance back at Peter and your mom. He pulled his wallet out of his pocket, but you turned back around before you could see what he was going to give her.

Your eyes stung, your nose became full, you dropped your head, going to hide behind a brick wall that was home to the park's bathrooms. You fell into a squat along the wall, trying your hardest to fight the tears that threatened to fall. Anger coursed through you at the women that had abandoned you, left you behind, and only showed up for money. On your graduation day no less and yet you felt pain for her.

Your heart ached for the woman that knew no better and could only think about contacting her family for money. Whatever she used it for, you didn’t care. It didn’t take the sting away whenever she made her appearance though. You saw the dirty converse make their way into your eyeline and two hands cradled each side of your face, his long fingers resting behind your ears.

“Hey, hey, hey. You’re alright, c’mere,” he pulled you up and into his embrace, locking his arms around you as you calmed down, breathing him in, letting it act as some sort of aromatherapy to you. His hands drifted back to your face, forcing you to look up at him. “I took care of it, okay? I don’t want you to worry about her anymore. Now we’re going to go to a nice dinner with Elise and May and eat as much sushi as you possibly can, alright? I talked them into all you can eat sushi and I have been starving myself all damn day to eat as much as I possibly can and you’re going to join me in that,” you let a wet laugh come through your tears, letting the pads of his thumbs brush over the tracks on your cheeks.

His lips found your forehead, one hand on your jaw, the other cradling the back of your head. “Do I look like I’ve been crying?” You tried to make a serious face looking up at him and he bit back a smile, tilting his head. “I’m sorry, but yes. You’re totally swollen like you just ate a fuck ton of salt,” you smacked his hands off of you, stomping off towards your parents as he trailed behind, trying to make it better, but only making it worse.

You had a caterpillar roll halfway in your mouth when your grandma took out an envelope addressed to both you and Peter. His eyes lit up as you gently took it from her hand, eyes narrowing at her as you set your chopsticks down. “I thought we said no gifts,” she rolled her eyes, May looking entirely too nervous.

“Now, this is from the both of us, we hope you guys like it,” your gaze softened towards May as you flipped the envelope over, pulling at the back. Your eyes met Peter’s, his brow pulled together indicating he had no clue about it either. You pulled out a card titled “To the Graduates”, you and Peter both read the small script on the front as you opened the card and saw two tickets taped to the card.

You pulled them off, reading the top one. A train ticket up the coast to Maine, a place you and Peter had always talked about wanting to visit, mainly for the crabs and lobsters, but for their beautiful history and beaches too. Always imagining a vacation away from everything. Where he could abandon Spider-Man duties for just a few days and where you could read as much as possible on the beach. A dream you shared often that you didn’t think would be possible. At least not for a few years, maybe after college. There had been so many nights spent laying together and whispering about what you would do on vacation and heavy sighs that would follow, knowing how far that trip was from the present. But now the two most amazing people in the world made it reality for you two and you didn’t know what to do. Your hand came to your mouth, eyes watering for a second time that day as you looked at the two women sitting across from you that would give you both the world two times over if they could and you only hoped you would do it for them too.

Your grandma cleared her throat before continuing. “We got you a two week long trip up the coast to Maine. Honey, you remember that your grandfather has a house up there that’s been sitting unused for one too many summers and we want you both to take the trip. You more than deserve it. All expenses paid, including food and tickets,” you looked at Peter to see him biting his lip, a small sniffle escaping him as you both stood up and went to hug them.

Your arms wrapped around May first, nuzzling your head into the side of her face, murmuring a thousand thank yous before going to your grandma, switching with Peter as he went to his aunt. You kissed them both and wiped your tears, looking at Peter with a huge smile. “I’m so happy right now,” he grabbed you in his arms and pulled back quickly, looking at the tickets. “Holy shit they’re for the day after tomorrow,” you both sat back down, pulling out your phones to start looking at everything you wanted to do on your trip, only letting yourself overthink for a second when you saw him open the notes app on his phone. The note titled ‘Our Dreams’.

Your head leaned on the window, watching the coast fly by as your feet sit on Peter’s lap, when you hear a snap. You look at the boy sitting across from you, seeing how the sunset took over his features, turning him into a golden glow. His soft hair was tousled, slightly falling over his forehead, he had just gotten a haircut so the sides were a bit shorter than you were used to. His jaw was as sharp as ever and when he looked up to meet your gaze his eyes looked like honey. His dorky smile took over his face and you gave a soft smile back to him.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?” You told him as he pulled the camera up to his eye, one hand holding it firm from underneath as he snapped another picture of you. “Don’t worry, you’re still the prettier one, but I am aware of how gorgeous I am,” he mumbled as the shutter clicked. You lightly kicked his stomach as he said that, a snort falling from your lips. “I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. You think New York’s okay with Spider-Man for that long?” his smile grew as he looked at you. “They survived seventeen years without me. I think they can manage two weeks, yeah?” you giggled as he kept talking.

“It’s crazy, right? I don’t know how they managed to pull this off without us knowing,” you two continued to talk before the train pulled to a stop. Peter quickly gathered your bags and slung his backpack on, ushering you towards the exit as you grabbed the duffle bag from his shoulder. “Just cause you’re Spider-Man doesn’t mean I can’t carry my own bag,” he rolled his eyes, continuing to push you forward. As soon as you stepped off, your Uber sat parked and waiting. A thirty minute drive had you pulling up to a small white shack sitting on an isolated part of the coast. Your eyes slipped shut, hearing the waves crash on the shore, the smell filling your senses.

Keys jingling pulled you back to the moment, seeing Peter hold the keys, moving towards the house. When he unlocked the front door, you both stepped in. The walls were decorated with typical coastal decor, lots of blue, seashells, anchors, stripes, nautical everything.

The sun was dipping into the horizon, a clear view from the back door and porch as you dropped your bags and took off running. Peter came from behind, his arm wrapping around you throwing you over his shoulder as he ran you both to the water, screams and laughs falling from your lips as you both fell into the water.

The two weeks flew by. Peter was unbelievably tan, with the sunkissed look he looked like a complete Greek God. You had read over twenty books in the two weeks, hardly ever leaving the beach. You two had explored the entire area, eating at almost every place you could,wandered through all the shops, and you had never seen him take so many pictures before. He claimed his muse was the happiest she had ever been.

It was your last night of the trip and you were on cloud nine. You laid on the beach, Peter right next to you, his arm brushing yours. Your skin felt like it was on fire from where it had touched him. It was happening more often and it made your head swirl. This wasn’t anyone else, it was Peter. You were falling for him and it was exciting, but terrifying. You couldn’t risk anything happening between you two. If you lost his friendship it would be the end of you.

You couldn’t ignore that Peter had been looking at you differently and his gazes were lingering longer than normal on you. You admit, you both had been touchier than normal, his hands on you more than usual. You loved it, longed for it, and craved it. It would ruin everything you two had together, but the more it happened the more you thought about what could be. He meant too much to you, but you wouldn’t lie to yourself, it was getting harder to act like it meant nothing.

He cleared his throat, making you realize you had been staring at him for too long. Your face burned as his smile grew wider. He sat up and grabbed his backpack. “Elise made me promise to wait until the last day to give this to you,” he pulled out a card from his backpack and handed you the envelope.

It was almost identical to the one she had given you for graduation, but this one was only addressed to you. You sat up and moved to sit in between his legs, settling down and leaning back against his firm torso. His head rested on your shoulder, peering down at the card you were pulling out.

One of your arms draped over his knee as you began to read.

My darling girl, I cannot begin to put into words how proud I am of you and the woman you’ve become. You continue to amaze me everyday with how resilient, smart, and strong you are. I know you’ve dealt with so much, but I have some more to tell you.

You never met your grandfather, but he was the most wonderful man I’ve ever met. I wish you could’ve met him, he would’ve loved you darling girl. His family was from New York and he had lived here his entire life, but his family spent the summers at that beach house you’re at. I wanted you to go there to get a glimpse at what your grandfathers and my life was like when we were younger.

Your grandfather had property set aside for your mother. I don’t think I will ever be able to apologize enough for what happened to her and the pain I feel seeing what she’s doing to herself is just a reminder of what could’ve been for her. You, my darling girl deserve the world and more. I want to give you the apartment he had set aside for your mother.

It’s not much, but a small two bedroom one bathroom apartment that we had lived in at one time. When he passed it was too difficult for me to stay, but I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of the apartment and stuck to his wishes to keep it for Dahlia. But it’s yours now. You can choose what to do with the extra space, I have a feeling I know what you’ll do, but it’s yours. It’s time for me to move on from my New York dreams. I think I achieved them all anyway. I’m coming to live at the beach house, to spend my time resting after the work I’ve done. I’ll be a phone call away whenever you need me, but I know you’re ready for what’s next in your story. You always are.

I love you more than anything and always will. You're my girl. Always. Grandma Elise

Your sobs hiccuped in your throat as you finished the note, tightly grasping the key in one hand that tumbled from the note when you had opened it, Peter holding you as you cried. He kissed your temple as you wiped harshly at your face. You never knew your grandfather, your grandma didn’t speak of him much, it caused too much pain for her and you didn’t want to pry into a part of her life she didn’t feel like sharing.

Yet after this trip and with the note that you would cherish for the rest of your life your heart broke at the thought of her relocating up here, so far from you, but you knew it was her turn. Her turn to continue her life however she wanted and whatever that would entail for her.

You turned your head, pushing your face into Peter’s neck as you whispered up to him, “I want you to come with me. Move in with me to the apartment,” he nodded his head, as he gently took your face in his hands.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his plush lips met yours. You eagerly met his kiss, hand stuck to his throat as he licked your bottom lip begging for entry and you opened for him. A small moan escaped your throat as he explored you in an entirely new way, you turned to face him, hands landing on both his thighs.

His hands landed in your hair, one tangling in the locks and gently tugging, pulling a gasp from your lips that he instantly swallowed. You stopped, putting your hands on his chest, leaning back from him. You two were panting and you rested your forehead against his and you shook your head. “Pete, we can’t do this,” you whispered to him and he shut his eyes.

He nodded his head and kissed the tip of your nose, “I know, I know,” he mumbled and you smiled at him. Your hand cradling his jaw, a small, pained smile coming across your features. “I love you, you know that?” He returned the smile and chuckled under his breath. “Don’t get soft on me. C’mon let’s go pack,” he stood, taking your hand in his, wrapping his arms around you after he pulled you up. You savored the moment, feeling his warm skin pressed to you, your arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, trying to fight back the feelings that were quickly bubbling up and were getting harder and harder to deny.

When you two returned from your trip life swept you both up in a whirlwind. Your grandma moved the following week, school was going to be starting soon, and you and Peter were packing everything to get moved into the new apartment. You hopped between homes all the time, asking if he had towels that he could bring or if you needed to bring them. Your grandma let you both take the furniture from the townhome that had been your home your entire life.

The last night was harder than you thought. You crept into your grandma’s room, seeing only a blow up mattress on the floor. You shuffled in the door as she turned and saw you. “It’s weird seeing it so empty, huh?” she asked you and her breath caught in her throat, trying to bite back tears. You hurried to her side, laying next to her in bed as she started smoothing your hair down. “When I brought you here I didn’t know what I was going to do. I was terrified. I didn’t have Mark anymore, Dahlia was god knows where, and May and Ben were the only people there,” you sat quietly listening to her share something she never had before.

She was a secret person, you knew that, and you relished in moments where she let you into glimpses of her life that she had buried away. “I hadn’t seen Mark’s family since he had died. They never liked me much, and completely blamed me for what happened with your mom. I do think some of it was my fault, but it was so hard without her father. I lost a part of me that day,” you sat there, trying to think about what would happen if you lost Peter.

You weren’t sure you would ever be able to recover from that. An entire part of you would be ripped away, the better part of you. He made you better. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the thoughts to go away. “But everything turned out alright. You grew up and became the most wonderful person. I’m so happy you have Peter to share your moments with. You’ll be good with him, I know it,” you smiled listening to her. You knew everything would be fine as long as Peter was there for it.

The next six months passed in an absolute blur. You both moved into the apartment, started school, you began working at your dream job in a museum as a museum assistant, and Peter was busier than ever with Spider-Man and school. You hardly saw him more than once a week if you were lucky and even then it was in passing. He hadn’t stopped coming into your room in the middle of the night for you to take care of his wounds, but it was mainly done in silence, you were too tired to talk. He would fall asleep as you tended to him, struggling to keep his eyes open.

You had only seen your grandmother once since she had moved to Maine and it was hard. You had been feeling more alone than ever even though everything was falling into place like it should’ve been. You missed Peter. Your Peter.

After the night on the beach you two hadn’t talked about the kiss, but the tension between you two was palpable. Every time you two were together you caught yourself thinking about how amazing he felt and how right it was. Your feelings had multiplied, but you had been the one to stop and Peter made no further advances, respecting your stupid wishes. But you wish he would break them because you knew if he started up you wouldn’t be able to stop and you were becoming more okay with that.

Another day trudged along. Back to back classes, followed by a full eight hour day at work, and to top it off a blizzard was supposed to blow through that night. All you wanted to do was go home, eat some ramen, and go to bed, particularly with Peter if he was going to be home, but you highly doubted it. You were the last out of the building, shooting Peter a text and letting him know you were on your way home, something he insisted you do so he would know you were safe.

The snow on the ground had turned to pure ice over the last few days and was incredibly slick as you walked down the steps from the museum's front doors, turning to lock them and begin your trek home. The wind was whipping and you pulled your coat tighter around yourself when you saw fresh snowflakes starting to fall from the sky above.

You knew you needed to get home because this was going to be a bad storm. In your attempt to hurry and dodge disgusting puddles that you didn’t even want to think about what could be in them, you miscalculated a step and you could feel your legs fly out from under you. Your body turned at the last minute, having the impact fall completely on your right shoulder. Your head knocked against the concrete as you laid there, feeling the searing pain that went down your whole arm and head.

When you sat up you realized that you couldn’t move your arm and began to panic, trying to figure out how to get up without the stabilization both hands would offer on the ice beneath you. Fishing your phone from your pocket you dialed his number, praying he would answer while on patrol.

It rang four times before you heard the chipper voice answer on the other end. “Hi babe, you called just as I was getting back to my bag. I honestly don’t feel like patrolling in the snow tonight so I’m calling it an early night. Did you get home yet, you didn’t text me?” You bit your lip trying to hold in the whimper that was threatening to escape at any moment as another pain shot through your arm.

“Peter, I slipped and fell on ice and I can’t move my right arm at all and I hit my head on the concrete. I seriously cannot get up, I’m on an entire patch of ice and will slip if I even try. I really need your help and I’m so dizzy,” before you could finish your sentence you heard wind going through the speaker on the other side of the phone.

“Do not try and move, baby. I’m on my way and I’ll be there in just a second, okay? How far from the museum did you get?” As you told him where you sat, you realized that it was far later than you normally walked home and it was starting to snow harder. It didn’t look good that you were sitting there in the middle of the sidewalk completely alone, tears falling down your face from pain.

Peter was breathing hard trying to get to where you were, knowing that a young girl sitting on the sidewalk in New York late at night who couldn’t move on their own was not a safe situation in any way. He went further out from his patrol zone than he normally did and was pissed that he didn’t keep himself closer to your normal walking route from work. He always stayed nearby, just in case, but you hadn’t needed him yet over the six months you had been working there. Figures that on the one night he strayed from the area you would need him.

He kept you talking on the phone, heart clenching as he was hearing you cry on the other end from how much pain you were in even though you were trying to not let him hear. When he turned down the street he saw you sitting there and realized how soaking wet you were from the ground and falling snow, your hair a matted mess from behind. He landed in front of you with a soft thump and immediately pulled his mask and gloves off.

His warm hands found home on your cheeks, eyes frantic with worry. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m here. Your right arm?” He went to grab your hand and a small scream left your mouth and he released it immediately. A small smile came across his face trying to calm you down.

The pad of his thumb swept across your forehead, a bit of blood dripping from his fingertip at the motion. “Okay baby, your arm might be broken and you have a bad cut on your forehead. I need to get you to the hospital. I’m gonna pick you up, don’t try and hold on to me okay, I got you,” you nodded as you felt his arm go behind your back, the other behind your knees.

The emergency room took longer than you would’ve liked. Peter changed out of his Spider-Man getup before taking you inside, having fully changed in less than a minute. Your teeth had been chattering the entire time, shaking from how cold you were and he was incredibly worried, trying to not to translate that to you. Luckily, you didn’t have a concussion, and your arm wasn’t broken. Your shoulder had been dislocated, but Peter hadn’t been able to see with your coat on.

When you two got home all you wanted to do was get changed, take a shower, and go to bed. Peter was being extra careful with you, almost terrified to touch you. Your arm was in a sling and your face was bruised, the cut on your forehead didn’t need stitches, but was bigger than a scrape.

Peter helped you out of your coat and sat you on the couch. “Sit here, let me get you water you need to take your pills, and then I’ll help you into bed,” your eyes never left him as he hurried around the space, grabbing everything he needed. He had been nervous all night, hardly meeting your eyes after getting you to the hospital.

“Peter,” you whispered as he kneeled in front of you, his eyes met yours and his gaze met yours. You reached a hand out and lightly set it on his jaw. “Are you okay?” He dropped his head and let out a single dry laugh. “You’re sitting here with a bruised forehead and a dislocated shoulder and you’re asking me if I’m okay,” his eyebrows furrowed, tilting his head to look at you. You didn’t know what to say so you thought of the first thing that came to your mind.

“Can you help me take a bath? Please? I feel so disgusting. I sat in street gunk for like fifteen minutes,” he nodded his head, grabbing your hand and helping you up. He went into the bathroom, starting to run the bath and you followed him into the small space.

He turned to face you and you felt your hands getting clammy, suddenly nervous at the notion you had proposed, but you needed to bathe. You were a disgusting mess. His hands looked at your shirt and his eyes met yours.

“Don’t even try to move your arm, okay? I’ll get you all sorted, sweetheart” his voice was low as he moved to take your arm out of the brace. His eyes drifted to your shirt, working through all the ways he would be able to get it off of you without moving your arm.

“Just rip it, Pete,” you let out a low laugh and he did the same. His hands went to the neck line and without any struggle ripped it down the middle. It fell off your shoulders and into a pool on the floor. His hands slipped behind your back, fingers lightly grazing over your spine, sending a shiver down your back as he undid the clasps on your bra, his fingers fumbling slightly.

You noticed his hands had a tremble to them as he moved the straps down your arms. Your breasts became exposed to the cool bathroom air, your nipples instantly getting hard. His breath hitched in his throat as he eyed you for the first time. He squatted in front of you, undoing the button on your pants, before gently sliding them down your legs, taking your hand and helping you step out of them.

His eyebrows furrowed, seeing the large bruise forming on your hip, his fingertips grazing over the area. You were visibly shaking, but Peter thought you were just cold, making him feel silly for being so nervous about this. Your panties went next and you were hyper aware of every movement that was happening between you two.

Peter stood up and his eyes met yours, an attempt at a comforting smile as you stood completely nude in front of the man that had been your best friend for most of your life. You were crossing a threshold that you wouldn’t be able to return to and you weren’t sure you wanted to. Peter was flush, his neck and face growing redder as the seconds ticked by.

You played with the hem of the worn hoodie he was wearing. Peter let a small smirk form on his plush lips and took his hoodie off. “Can I get in with you?” You played the actions in your head, all possible outcomes that could end as poorly as you imagined, but you didn’t care.

Nodding your head, he quickly finished undressing, and you saw the beautiful man in front of you. You had thought about this moment so many times, but now that it was happening you didn’t really know what to do. His fingers lightly closed around yours, leading you to the tub. The steam bounced off the water. Peter climbed in first and when you went to step in, he stopped you, lifting you with ease into the tub.

He helped you sit, allowing your freezing back to lean against his warm and firm chest. You let a small moan fall from your lips as the warm water enclosed around you, feeling like absolute heaven. Peter chuckled behind you and whispered out, almost afraid to jostle the moment. “Please, don’t make that noise again,” you could feel how hard he was behind you, pressing into your lower back.

He grasped the cup on the edge of the tub, when he grabbed it you had no idea, pulling the hot water into it and pouring it over your scalp. Letting your hair get drenched, his hands grabbed your shampoo bottle, squeezing a good amount into his palms. You watched as his hands lathered the soap, attaching his fingertips to your scalp and starting to massage it into your hair.

Your eyes slipped closed, letting your weight fully rest against him. “There you go,” he murmured, lips kissing your temple as you let his hands work into your hair. You don’t know how long he washed your hair, but when he finished you felt his large hand cover your forehead, blocking your eyes from the falling water that went through your locks, removing the soap.

His hands found the bar of soap, dipping it into the water, and your eyes opened. You started breathing harder as you realized he was going to wash you. He whispered into your ear as his hand rested on your left shoulder, “Are you sure this is, okay?” You nodded slowly, feeling him trail down your arms.

Goosebumps erupted over your skin, his other hand going to rest on your stomach. His lips found home on your shoulder, kissing the bruise that had shown in the hospital. You two sat in silence before he spoke up. “You know how scared I was when you called me?” Your eyes danced over the side of his face, your head resting against his shoulder as he talked.

You shook your head as he kept going. “I was terrified. The thought of you sitting there alone, in the dark, and hurt,” he shook his head, eyes closing as he thought about it. You kissed right under his jaw. “I know, I’m sorry. You know I fall a lot, it’s kinda my thing,” you giggled, trying to lighten the mood as he rested his forehead on yours.

“Which is why my patrol on nights you work are always in that area. You hadn’t needed me in the entire six months you’ve been working there,” he shook his head and you knew what he was saying. “I’ll always need you, Petey,” his eyes opened at the nickname.

He didn’t hesitate, lips landing on yours. Your bottom lip finds solace in between his. The kiss grew needy, messy, and sloppy. Your teeth clashed against each other, tongues fighting for dominance. He broke apart from you, breath fanning across your nose. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop once we start this,” you nodded your head in response.

“I know,” your hand pushed his head back down to yours and you two connected once again. Your fingers tangled in his damp hair, tugging lightly, a groan that you could feel against your back erupted from his throat. The line didn’t exist anymore between you two. It had been crossed and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. He was your Peter, always had been, and you needed him in every way he would offer himself to you.

His hand danced across your ribs, moving upwards as they groped your breasts. Your nipples were hard and perked as they rubbed against his palms. His hands were still covered from the soap as he pinched your left nipple, a gasp leaving your mouth, quickly swallowed by Peter.

He stopped suddenly, gulping down air. “You’re injured and I don’t think it would be smart to do this in the tub. C’mon,” he stood, pulling you with him and grabbing the towel from the bar, wrapping it around you as water puddled on the floor.

“Go to your room, I’ll be in there in a second,” he quickly kissed you before you turned around to walk to your room. You didn’t realize how freezing the apartment was until your feet moved across the hardwood floor, but you heard the heater kick on, knowing that’s what he went to do. Even in the heat of moments like this all he could think of was what you needed and how he could make sure it would be taken care of. When you got to your room, Peter was on your trail, only seconds behind you.

His hands moved you towards your bed, lips attacking your neck. “Get under the covers, you’re like ice,” you followed his orders, trying to move gently so as to not move your shoulder. The heavy comforter enclosed around you, Pete laying on top of you underneath it. The body heat radiated off him and you pulled him closer wanting more, anything more.

You chased his lips, a laugh leaving him. “God, you’re so needy, baby,” you scowled at him as he laughed harder. His lips landed on the pulled skin between your brows, smoothing it out. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you, I promise,” you internally thought about the odds of how this promise would play out. When you felt his long, slender, middle finger move through your folds you gasped. Your odds were good.

He brought his finger to his lips, letting it hit his tongue. His eyes fluttered shut, a groan leaving his lips. “You taste so damn good,” a moan was all you could offer in response as his finger went back to the place you needed him most. Your eyes squeezed shut as his thumb briefly moved over your clit. “Oh god, Peter,” his forehead rested against yours as he pushed down, starting to move his finger in circles, your breath mingling together.

“Say that again,” your teeth sucked your lip into your mouth, biting down hard as you whimpered, his middle and ring fingers pumping into you as he continued working your clit. His fingers curled inside you, hitting the spongy spot deep in your pussy and your mouth opened, a loud moan tumbling out.

“Peter shit,” he worked his fingers faster, wanting you to fall over the edge that was getting closer and closer. “Are you gonna cum for me, sweet girl? C’mon I can feel how close you are. Cum for me, baby,” as his words fell over you, you clenched around him, a loud groan came from him as he coaxed you through your orgasm.

He removed his fingers and when you saw your own slick dripping down his fist, onto his forearm, veins popping in his arm, you moaned his name as he licked his hand clean. “You’re a fucking mess, sweetie,” you could feel how flush you were, trying to catch your breath as you came down from the high.

You moved your hand down his torso and felt his cock pressed hard against his stomach. He shook his head and kissed you deeply. “Not tonight, sweetheart. I wouldn’t be able to control myself and you need to sleep. Soon, okay?” He could sense how irritated you were, laughing as he fell down next to you, gently pulling you into him.

“You really are needy, aren’t you?” You flicked his forehead, letting him kiss you as you settled down, feeling the wave of exhaustion fall over you. “Thank you, Petey,” was all you mumbled out as sleep took over you, the pills you took earlier clearly kicking in.

He hummed in response, arm wrapped around you, lips on your temple. “I love you,” was the last thing you heard before falling into the best sleep of your life.

The next couple of months were the best of your life. Peter kept to his word and as soon as your shoulder was better and you had gained mobility again, you two slept together. Afterwards you two found yourself trying to get at each other whenever you could. Peter would come back from patrol and you were immediately on him and he would pound into you, taking his stress from the night out on you. When you were trying to make dinner, Peter was right behind you needing you as soon as he could. Your bare ass on the countertop as he ate you out, your moans bouncing off the apartment walls.

Peter had even taken you on a couple of “real dates” as he called them. He had taken you to dinner after work one night, a 24 hour diner being the only thing open, but it had been the best burger you had ever had in your life. On an open Saturday morning you two had gone to the farmers market, getting ingredients for you two to cook dinner together that quickly ended with food being forgotten as you two tangled up on the couch, you using Peter for over an hour. Peter asked you to help cut his hair one afternoon and as you straddled him, ensuring the sides were even, you somehow ended up riding him, having your neck littered with purple marks.

Your feelings were blossoming by the day and you knew you were completely and totally in love with your best friend. Peter was harder to read and the thought of sharing your feelings with him only spurred migraines. He hadn’t mentioned any other girls, honestly he never really had apart from some girls he was friends with at school, but you didn’t want to rock the boat on what you had going on with him.

As you sat up waiting for him one night, knowing you had been dying to see each other for the last few days, you heard the familiar thump on your bedroom's fire escape. When your window didn’t open, you stood going out to see Peter slumped on the stoop. You immediately grabbed his arms, dragging him into the room as he groaned.

You pulled his mask off and saw the bruises as prominent as ever on his face, blood pooling from his nose. “Fuck, Petey where’s it hurt the most? What do I need to do first?” you started bombarding him with questions, hands going to peel the suit off. You didn’t even realize you were shaking, eyes blurring with tears as you were so focused on just getting him fixed. You hadn’t seen Peter like this in a long time and it never failed to rattle you.

Running to the bathroom to grab the tub of supplies you kept, your thoughts ran rampant in your head. Situations like this forced you to realize that although he was a superhero and that he could heal quicker than normal, he was still human. He was still mortal and putting himself in these dangerous positions was normal and it could kill him. Deep down you knew it would be what would kill him and it felt like your heart was being ripped apart at the thought.

You dropped to the floor with him, his breathing shallow and struggling as you saw the incredibly large gash across his stomach. Your hands were trembling as you grabbed the towel to wipe the blood and know where you needed to start. His hands grabbed yours and pulled them towards his mouth, lips kissing your knuckles. “Breath. I’m here, I’m alright. Take a breath,” you closed your eyes, forcing yourself to calm yourself down.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at his face, into his eyes as you began to work. Your stitches had improved over the years, the many videos you had watched only made you better, plus years of practice. When you finally finished, you cleaned up the supplies and felt Peter’s hand slip under your chin, tilting your head up to look into his eyes.

Your eyes stung and began to water as you saw how beat to shit he was. “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, bringing you to him and placing a chaste kiss on your lips. “You scare me sometimes, Peter. When you come home like this,” you motioned to the state he was in as you continued talking. “I get scared I won’t be able to fix you and what do I do then?”

Your head tilted as you looked at him, waiting for his response. The tears that had begun falling, Peter wiped with the pad of his thumb. He nodded his head, hair falling into his eyes. “I know, baby, I know,” you brushed the hair back out of his face. Peter’s hand fell to your hips and pulled you onto his lap, you shook your head and tried to fight him. “I need you, please,” his desperate plea had you melting into his touch, allowing him to pull you onto him.

His hand lifted your night slip, pulling your panties to the side and ran a finger through the wetness of your pussy. You bit on the soft spot between his collarbone and shoulder, savoring the sound of him groaning, immediately thrusting his hips up to meet yours.

He wasted no time, freeing his cock from his suit pants, and you sank onto him. Slowly accepting him inch by inch. You felt complete like this, like you were meant to be with him like this. You started to move, Peter’s arms crushing you to his chest as you bounced on him. His lips found yours, allowing the cries that fell from your mouth to flow into his, mingling with what he was grunting out.

His encouraging words fill the space around you, encompassing you, making you feel warm and loved. One hand was on the back of your neck, the other around your waist, keeping you as close to him as possible, trying to savor the moment. You mumbled out to him that you were close, Pete telling you he was right behind you and you knew he was. His movements were like second nature to you, as his back muscles grew tighter and the vein in the side of his neck popped out, you knew he was only seconds from his own release.

“Cum in me, Petey. I want to feel you cum in me,” those words tipped him over the edge, his hips snapping up into yours as he finished, cum painting your insides as you finally hit your release, letting him push your face into his neck. That scent of cinnamon and Peter hit your senses, making your eyes water at the hominess that it offered.

You didn’t move as he softened inside you, not wanting to leave his grasp and he was making no effort to move you either. When you made the first move to get up, you pulled him with you, bringing him to your bed. No words were said as you both laid in your sheets, Pete pulling you to his chest as you laid on your side. You felt his lips on the back of your neck and you let sleep take you, reveling in the warmth he always offered to you.

When you woke up the next morning, sun hitting your eyes, you stretched out and let your joints pop into place. The spot next to you was cold as your hand skimmed over the empty sheets. You heard movement in the kitchen and you got up, following the sounds. “How’re you feeling, Spidey?” You smiled as you spoke, walking up to where he stood leaning on the counter, back to you.

He slowly turned to you, arms crossing over his chest, his eyes rimmed red. “Baby, what’s wrong?” You started towards him and he held his hand out to you, stopping you from coming closer. Your stomach dropped, the feeling of dread creeping into your every thought. “We can’t do this anymore. I can’t hurt you anymore,” Your arms wrapped around yourself as you thought of what to say.

“What’re you talking about, Peter?” He shook his head, not wanting to meet your gaze as your eyes stared at him. “Last night you were terrified. I’ve never seen you look like that before and I caused that. I won’t do it again, I promise,” you scoffed, pressing your heels into your eyes as his words washed over you.

“I’m going to stay with May for a few days so this can settle,” Your eyes snapped to him and you stormed up to him, pushing him with your palms. “So you’re just gonna leave too? Just like that? Like I’m nothing to you? Okay, fine. Leave, go!” You were screaming at the end, huffing for air, tears threatening to spill.

He wouldn’t even look at your face as he moved to his room grabbing an already packed bag and leaving your shared space. You grabbed a cup off the counter and threw it at the door as he left, watching it smash into pieces as you screamed after him telling him how much you hated him as you sank to the floor. You couldn’t hold in the tears as a sob ripped through your throat, it felt like your heart was being ripped from your chest.

You knew this would happen. You had told yourself over and over this would be how it ended, but you were naive and thought that he wouldn’t be like everyone else in your life. You thought he loved you, but you knew he didn’t. He was being selfish, like everyone else in your life.

You had no idea how long it had been since he had left, but you hadn’t left the couch. You slept there, cried there, and stared at the ceiling. You were fairly certain you had lost your job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your phone went off, you had been keeping it near, just in case he called. He hadn’t yet.

Your grandma's picture popped up and you hesitated to answer. You knew May had told her what was going on and you didn’t want to talk about it. She was only going to worry more if you didn’t so you finally picked up. “Hi, grandma,” your voice was raw, not having been used in days other than to cry.

“Oh darling, you sound horrible. Pack a bag, you’re coming to stay with me for a few days,” you tried to tell her no, that you weren’t up for it, but she forced you, saying she needed you. So you found yourself sitting on the couch of the beach house that felt like paradise. Where you and Peter took your first and only vacation. Where you started to realize just how in love with him you were.

Your grandma took care of you. Brushed your hair, forced you to eat, forced you to get some sun. On your last day there, you sat on the porch swing with your head in her lap when she sighed. “You know, your grandfather and I had some amazing memories here,” you looked up at her as she broke the silence. “One summer he and I snuck up here a week before his family was due. We spent the whole time just enjoying each other. It was the first time he and I had been truly alone, just us. God, it was amazing. I realized I was gonna marry him on that trip,” your eyes watered as she shared exactly what you had felt with Peter.

The feelings she described were tearing you apart. A small sob came from you and she peered down, running her hand over your hair. “Oh my darling, it’ll be okay. He’s just in as bad of shape as you. May says he’s gone for days at a time and she doesn’t hear from him at all and when he’s back he’s locked in his room,” your heart ached at the thought of him hurting like you were.

But he did this. It was what he wanted, not you. He didn’t want you. It was an accident. You found yourself as an accident again and it was destroying you. She sat you up and took your hands in hers. “I have to tell you something and I need you to listen to me before you start, okay?”

You nodded your head waiting for her to continue, worry spreading through you. “I’m dying, darling. I have cancer and I’m dying,” your eyes went wide, jumping from your seat as you tried to comprehend what she was saying. All you could manage to say was a chant of no’s, refusing to believe that the only person who had been a constant in your life was going to be leaving you. Just life everyone.

She pulled you back down, trying to get you to calm down as your tears finally stopped. You felt like you had nothing left in you. A shell of yourself as she answered all your questions. She had known since before your graduation, nearing a year from that date. May had known the entire time and had promised not to say anything to you. She didn’t know how long she had and even if she did she wouldn’t tell you.

It turns out it wasn’t long at all. You had decided to stay for a bit longer, just to have some more time with her and she died the next week. You felt numb. You had no idea what to do. May came up to help you take care of the important things and mourn with you, but you ended up comforting her more than anything. You couldn’t imagine what she was feeling. Your grandma was the last person she had ties to and now that she was gone it was like a large part of her life was gone.

When you had to get on the train back home you stared at the seat across from yours, vacant where your boy should be. You sat in silence, not even letting your brain think. You had no thoughts, you hardly moved, and you had no recollection of getting back to your apartment. It was quiet. No movement at all. He wasn’t back and you were glad. Deep down you knew you couldn’t face him or anything right now. You felt a bit of hatred searing you that was directed towards him that you knew wasn’t fair. He had no obligations to you, to be there for you.

You went to the bathroom, went through your nightly routine and climbed into your sheets. You never fell asleep, not able to close your eyes and let it sweep over you. You hadn’t slept a full night since she had passed. You heard a loud thump on your fire escape and your window slid open. Your back faced the window, not wanting to see who made the noise.

Your name came from his lips, the familiar sound filled your ears. Your eyes squeezed shut and you didn’t respond, laying as still as possible, hoping that if you didn’t move he would leave. He didn’t. He said your name again, slightly louder this time, his warm hand landing on your arm.

“Leave me alone, Peter. I can’t do this right now,” you mumbled out and he didn’t respond. He turned you towards him and when you saw him, he was beaten worse than any other time you’d seen. Your eyes widened in worry, taking in his features and seeing bruises on him in places you’d never seen before. He wasn’t in his suit, but in shorts and a t-shirt.

You sat up and moved towards the edge of your bed and took in the sight before you. “When was the last time you slept? You look horrible,” was all he said as his eyes scanned over your face. You scoffed, standing up, almost flush with him.

“You wanna talk about looking horrible? Peter, I can hardly tell it’s you. What the fuck have you been doing?” He rolled his eyes, one completely bloodshot, overpowering the brown that you hadn’t seen in at least a month. The longest you had been without him since you were six.

He stood firm as all of your anger over the events of the past month bubbled up. “Where the fuck have you been, Peter? I don’t know if you know this, but my life has practically crumbled around me. You walked out on me! You left me! My grandmother died, Peter! I have been completely alone. You left me alone to deal with this. I needed you. I needed you so bad and you were just like everyone else in my life and you left me. I fucking hate you!” Hot, angry tears rolled down your face as he stood there listening to you.

His hands grabbed your arms, pulling you into his chest. You didn’t fight him, sobbing into his t-shirt as his arms wrapped around you. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m so sorry,” was all he spoke into your hair as he felt your body shaking. “I didn’t know she passed until ten minutes ago,” he whispered out. You pulled back and looked up at him, his own tears threatening to spill.

Your hands were balled into fists in his shirt, scared that if you let him go he would vanish, like this was just your overtired mind playing tricks on you. Your head tilted back to look at him and his hands gently made their way to your jaw and you leaned into his touch, eyes falling shut as his thumbs rubbed over your cheek bones.

“I’m so sorry. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. If you’ll have me, I won’t leave you again, okay? I love you and I need you, sweetheart,” his lips ghosted over yours as he spoke. He moved away from your mouth, instead placing delicate kisses on your eyelids, cheeks, nose, forehead, everywhere he could.

The battle within yourself reared its head as you thought about what you needed to do. You couldn’t deny that you loved him because you had known that for a long time. In some part of you, you knew you needed him and from the looks of him, he needed you too. You melted into his touch instantly becoming putty in his hands, letting him mold you into whatever he wanted. You knew Peter wouldn’t let you fall again. You knew he couldn’t keep fifty percent of his promises and this proved that yet again.

You peered up at him, wrapping your hands around his wrists, his hands hadn’t left your face. You thought he was pressing so deep into your skin they would leave marks, like he was dealing with the same thoughts that if he let you go, you wouldn’t come back. You kissed the inside of his wrist.

“You can’t leave me again, Parker. I’ll drop your ass so fast you won’t even know it happened,” his laugh boomed in the space, ripping a cut on his lip open, blood falling down his chin. You moved away from him, going to grab a tissue from your nightstand. Moving as gently as you could, you placed it on the cut, wiping up the blood.

“I need you to tell me what happened to you, Peter. Why do you look like this?” You whispered to him, trying to take in all of the marks that littered his entire body. “I went a little crazy for a bit,” was what he responded with, thumbs moving in circles on your neck. “I was so angry at myself I went and took it out on some criminals. Some fought back more than others,” you winced at the thought as he chuckled, trying to make light of the situation.

You moved him to sit on your bed and went to the bathroom, grabbing the tub of supplies that you hadn’t touched since he left. You moved it into the room, his eyes squinting with a smile as he saw you grab the Neosporin. “You’re gonna need a lot more of that, sweetheart,” you couldn’t fight back the smile as his hands found home on your waist, kneading at the exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up.

Peter pulled you closer to him and your hand threaded itself into his hair, the other still holding the tub of medicine. His lips kissed each of your collarbones, your eyes slipped shut at the contact, your breath stuttering. His tongue darted out, licking up your neck. You dropped the tube, letting your other hand brace itself on his shoulder.

Your head rolled to the side, letting him have better access. He laid back on the bed, pulling you with him. You leaned down, hands landing on his firm chest as his hands dragged you down to meet him. Both of your legs were spread over him, your core rubbing against the cloth of his shorts, showing how hard he was beneath you.

Your core pressed down onto his cock and he moaned. It made your heart soar, hearing him make those noises again. You were flipped onto your back so quickly, you hardly even felt the movement. His hands moved to the hem of your shirt pulling it off and placing pecks all over your exposed chest.

He took a nipple into his mouth and you arched into him. Your head fell back onto the pillow, feeling his teeth nip at the bud in his mouth, his fingers pinching your other before he switched. Whimpers fell from you as his hands moved further down, slipping into your sleep shorts and feeling the slick pooling in your pussy that was starting to drip down your thigh to your ass.

He removed his mouth from your breast and kissed down your sternum and stomach, pulling your shorts down as he went. He groaned at the sight before him, you spread open, waiting for him. His teeth nipped on the inside of either thigh before kissing his way to you. He placed a light peck to your clit that had you clenching around nothing.

His tongue licked a stripe up your pussy, his moan mixing with yours. “God, you have no idea how much I missed this sweet pussy, baby,” you gasped as he stuck two fingers into you, sucking your clit into his mouth. You writhed beneath him as he curled his fingers in you, hitting the sweet spot only he knew how to get to.

It took you no time at all to feel the budding pressure in you to know that you were close. “Pete, oh my god,” was all you could muster up to say, your chest heaving. “I know, sweetheart, c’mon, cum for me,” you felt it wash over you in waves of pleasure. Your breath caught in your throat as whimpers flowed from you, his fingers slowing down as he continued to lick up your mess.

He moved back up to you, your hands clawing at him to meet you. You tasted yourself on him and you moaned at the taste, missing him more than anything. Peter wasted no time, stripping as quickly as possible and his cock came free. Your hand closed around the base, offering a few pumps, Peter thrusting into your hand at the feeling.

“Fuck, don’t do that. I won’t last,” he chuckled as you guided him to your entrance. His head slipped in the wetness, pushing against your clit as you both hissed. He leaned down, lips on yours as he sank into you. Your jaw fell open as you felt him fill you up.

You wasted no time, wanting to feel him. “You gotta move, babe, please,” he didn’t hesitate. He pulled back, almost all the way out before pounding back in. You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. As he started thrusting, the only sounds in the room were your moans, Peter’s grunts as he sucked marks into every piece of skin he could, and your skin hitting each other as he fucked you like you were going to leave. Peter’s words were a mix of how good you felt, how tight you were, and how you were clenching around him so tight.

His hand moved to your knee, pulling a leg up towards your chest. You let your legs come up, placing them on his shoulders, letting him hit an entirely new spot deeper in you. His hips stuttered at the new sensation, the only words you could form was his name, falling from your lips like a prayer.

You both were covered in sweat, your neck and chest were covered in purple bruises, Peter’s hair was a mess as his head tucked into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, baby I’m gonna cum,” your nails scratched down his back. “Cum for me, Peter. Cum in me,” you barely finished before he slammed into you one last time as he emptied out into you.

His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight and quick circles as he lightly kept thrusting as you tumbled over the edge, another orgasm taking you in its hold.

As you finished, he let your legs fall back down. You both fought to catch your breath as he pulled out of you, his cum dripping. His thumb pushed it back into you, not letting it seep out of you anymore, wanting to keep it in like that was where it was meant to be. His lips met yours, a deep kiss that showed how much you missed each other.

You two got up together, going to the bathroom and taking a shower with one another. He let you lean back against him, reveling in the comfort of his presence. Neither of you said a word as you washed up and went back to bed. He laid next to you, your legs tangling together, facing each other.

His hands danced across your face, thumb brushing across your cheeks. “Will you marry me?” Your eyes searched his face and you smiled, a small laugh falling from you. “Go to sleep, you’re obviously delirious,” your hand went over his eyes, feeling his eyelashes tickle your palm as his eyelids fluttered.

He moved closer to you, lips nearly touching, taking your hand in his. His smile spread as he looked at your hand. “I’m serious. I want to marry you. Will you marry me?” You bit your lip, eyes narrowing at him. “Petey, we’re nineteen,” you said, your eyes falling to see his fingers wrapping together with yours.

“I know. I know I don’t have anything to offer you, but I love you. I love you so much it hurts. When I was away from you I would’ve rather died. I can’t be without you. We’ll keep it secret, just something you and I know. We have a lot of secrets, what’s one more? I want you to marry me,” your eyes were getting blurry as you realized he was completely serious.

You nodded your head and placed your hand on his cheek. “Okay. I’ll marry you, Peter,” his eyes snapped up to yours, wide in surprise. “You’ll-you’ll marry me? Really?” you giggled and nodded through your tears. He hovered above you, kissing every inch of your face as you laughed.

The following weekend you and Peter were at the courthouse, a random witness from the street stood with you two as you stood in front of the justice of peace, pronouncing you husband and wife. Your short white poofy dress and short veil matched the occasion with Peter’s green dress pants, black button up and tie.

Your simple gold bands matched one another, yours just slightly thinner than his. His hands grabbed your jaw, pulling you into him, your hands landing on his waist as you kissed for the first time as husband and wife. You both laughed, you started jumping excitedly. “Holy shit, we just got married,” he nodded and kissed you again.

It felt right. It always did with Peter. The shy little boy you had met thirteen years ago changed your entire life. He had become your person and he always would be, no matter what. You kept looking at your hands, seeing the bands sparkle in the sun. Peter had his camera with him and he snapped so many pictures, your hands started coming up to cover the lens.

“C’mon, I need more pictures of my beautiful wife,” you giggled, asking a student leaving the library if they would snap a couple pictures of you two. Peter dipped you in one, bending down to kiss you as your leg kicked out straight, a small yelp leaving your throat. You thanked the young girl as he offered her congratulations.

Your wedding dinner ended up being your local sushi restaurant in your neighborhood that Peter craved every single week. The owner came over to congratulate you both, your waiter taking multiple photos for you two as you sat down. You both ate the caterpillar roll that never failed to make you moan as you took a bite. Peter nipped underneath your ear in the booth as you took a sip of sake. “Promise me you’ll make that noise for me tonight,” his eyebrows shot up as you rolled your eyes, pushing him away. “I’m sorry, babe, but this is the only thing that can get that noise out of me,” you put another bite in your mouth as his hands attacked your sides, making you giggle as he tickled you. “Challenge accepted.”

The following week you two sat on your couch, looking at the photos he had taken. Your eyes fell on the one the young lady had taken of you two. You bit your lip, thoughts running about the day. Your grandma would’ve been so happy for you two. But she wasn’t here for it anymore. She wouldn’t be. Guilt built up in you at the thought. Your weekly dinners with May had been tough, seeing the empty chairs that should’ve been filled with the people you loved and deserved to be there.

Peter pulled you into his side, kissing your forehead as you sniffled. “Elise would’ve loved it. She would’ve told you how beautiful you were a million times,” he chuckled looking at the photos he had taken of you. You nodded your head, wiping at your eyes and choking out a small yeah in response.

As you two laid in bed that night, sleep wasn’t coming to you. Your thoughts raced about your grandma and May. You knew May was doing well, having joined a book club and she started hanging out with some nurse friends. You thought about your mom and how she had missed another huge life event and you looked over at the sleeping man next to you.

He had a small cut on his eyebrow from his patrol the night before and your finger danced over it, waking him easily. He hummed, hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you towards him. “You okay, sweetheart?” You nodded, hand resting on his bare chest. “Petey?” He peeked an eye open at you. “When we graduated, what did you say to my mom?” He sighed and rubbed his face with his free hand, the other laced with yours.

“Um, let’s see. I told her that she couldn’t pick and choose when she wanted to be a parent. That she needed to leave you alone and not contact you again because she had made her choice and she needed to live with it. I gave her $100 to tide her over because she was asking for a really specific amount, it was like $73 or something like that and she left. That was it, why?” You kissed under his jaw and snuggled into him.

His warm arms wrapped around you, a soft breath releasing from his lungs as he nuzzled his head into your hair, breathing in the comforting scent. “I never thanked you for that,” he chuckled and rubbed your arms. “It’s my job, baby,” you kissed his adams apple, feeling it bob beneath your lips. You didn’t say anything else as your eyes slipped closed, drifting off to sleep with the man that would do anything to protect you and keep you happy.

***

Your friends and family cheered around you as you kissed Peter, feeling him dip you in front of everyone. You giggled against his lips, clutching onto his shirt at the movement, like he would ever let you fall. May had tears streaming down her face as he stood you up, making eye contact with her as everyone clapped.

Your five year anniversary with Peter had come so fast, it was hard to wrap your head around. Life had been so hectic you could hardly keep track. Peter’s time as Spider-Man had increased tremendously over the years, but you didn’t mind. New York had Spider-Man, but you had Peter Parker. Your Peter. You didn’t have to share him with anyone and you loved that.

You had both graduated from university and you were quickly hired at a museum as an assistant curator and you loved your work. It made your heart happy and you had finally found your niche. Peter had found work with Oscorpe, his old good friend Harry getting him a great job in the lab that allowed him some freedom to dip out as needed with no explanations required.

You and Peter decided to tell May you were married a little over a year into the marriage, feeling so guilty for hiding it from her. She was furious, but so happy. She had blown up the picture of you two that the lovely student had taken and it hung in the living room proudly. On the anniversary of your grandma's death May had given you a small box of her belongings that she specified needed to go to you.

Peter was given her wedding ring to your grandfather for you to use. She said she knew you two would end up together and she had saved the ring for it. You wore it proudly with your gold band to match. She had also given you two a joint gift that was to be enjoyed together. The small beach shack that held a special place in your heart.

You two vacationed there every summer for at least two weeks and it was where on your five year anniversary you did a small dinner reception with your close friends and family on the beach, as your friends guilted you about doing an elopement without any celebrations.

You and Peter were meant to be, it had been known since that day you talked to him on the porch. He had said he knew he was in love with you that day and he just had to muster up the courage to do something about it and it only took a little over a decade. You had never connected with someone quicker than Peter. He was your other half, your confidant, and your partner in crime. When one of you appeared everyone knew the other was only half a second behind. It was how you two functioned and it was how you two would function for the rest of time.

You knew Peter Parker was destined for greatness, you just didn’t know how. But now as your eyes swept over your best friend, you knew exactly how. He was destined to be your person and you would love him for the rest of your life.

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