ミ★ 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 ★彡

aquarius, enfp, she/her, bisexual, writer, poet, 24

[strangegirl26sff]

𝙎𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚 𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙉𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙜𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

Hi! I'm Tunis and i like to write and recommend fics <3

My fandoms are: Stranger Things, Animal Kingdom, The pitt, Southland, Game of thrones universe, MCU, DCU, Riordanverse, The walking dead, Invincible, The boys, Hunger games, Bridgerton, My hero academia, Dr. house, Avatar universe, Black clover, Frieren: beyond journey's end, ER, Jojo's bizarre adventures, Dandadan, Mob psycho 100, atypical, Supernatural, Dexter, Gilmore girls, Bojack horsemen + romantic comedies, comedy shows and more.

My favorite artists are: DJO, Sabrina Carpenter, Taylor Swift, Chappel Roan, Olivia Rodrigo, Charli XCX, The neighbourhood, Twenty one pilots, Lady Gaga, Ariana Grande, Paramore, Harry Styles, David Bowie, Metallica, Queen, The Cure, The Smiths, AC/DC, Lana del Rey, Hayley Williams, Lorde, Ed Sheeran, Hozier, Noah Kahan, Nirvana, Selena Gomez, Billie Eilish and more.

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FIC MASTERLIST

⋆˚࿔ Series 𝜗𝜚˚

Epic Nerd Journey

OC insert in Stranger Things, Multiple OC'S and love stories simultaneously. Cross posted on Wattpad.

Danger Zone

Spidey!Keys x Stacey!Reader SMAU

⋆˚࿔ Shorts 𝜗𝜚˚

Steve Harrington teasing Eddie Munson

Steve Harrington pouting

Hopper's Mirror

divider credits @dividers-are-us

[frootybb]

Summer Heat

Chap 10: Twin Inferno

Word count: 3K

Warnings: NSFW, significant age gap (Steve early 40s / reader early 20s), dad’s best friend trope, deliberate teasing, heavy suggestive tension, touching, and dirty talk

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The heatwave refused to break. By morning the air inside the house already felt thick and close, the kind of humidity that made sheets stick to skin and every movement feel like too much effort. The lake outside lay flat and dull under a white-hot sky. Even the birds sounded tired.

You came downstairs in the same tiny black bikini from the day before, this time with only the thinnest open shirt thrown over it. The living room fan did almost nothing. Your mother stood at the counter in a loose tank top and shorts, hair pulled up, looking miserable. Your father sat at the table in an old t-shirt that already showed sweat stains under the arms. Steve was at the coffee maker, and for the first time since the start of the summer he had skipped the shirt entirely.

He wore only a pair of dark shorts that sat low on his hips. The morning light caught the dark hair across his chest and the scattered moles on his shoulders and upper arms. A thin happy trail disappeared under the waistband of his shorts. The silver at his temples stood out against the rest of his hair, and the muscles in his back shifted as he reached for mugs. He looked solid, lived-in, and unfairly good for someone who was supposed to be off-limits.

Your mother glanced at him, then at you, and just sighed. “I don’t even care anymore. It’s too hot to care. Wear whatever keeps you from melting.”

Your father nodded without looking up from his phone. “Agreed. If I had the body for it I’d be shirtless too. Steve, you’re making the rest of us look bad.”

Steve turned with two mugs, one of which he set in front of you. His eyes dropped over your bikini and open shirt before he answered. “Didn’t see the point in another layer. Feels like the air itself is sweating.”

You took the coffee, fingers brushing his. “Smart choice.”

Your mother poured orange juice and dropped into a chair like her legs had given up. “I used to have standards. Matching place settings. Appropriate swimwear. Right now I’d trade the good china for one decent cross-breeze. If everyone’s more comfortable like this, fine. We’re not expecting company. Steve’s been around long enough that he’s basically part of the furniture.”

Steve huffed a quiet laugh and leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his bare chest. The movement made the hair on his stomach catch the light. “I’ll try not to take that as an insult.”

“You know what I mean,” your mother said, waving a hand. “The thermometer on the porch already says ninety-one and it’s not even nine o’clock. I’m past judging anyone’s wardrobe.”

Your father finally looked up. “Speaking of the porch, the propane gauge was acting weird yesterday. And the freezer’s working overtime. We’re going to need ice before the afternoon or everything in there turns to soup.”

Steve pushed off the counter. “I can check the tank after coffee. Ice run later if the car’s AC still works.” His eyes flicked to you, quick and deliberate. “Could use a second pair of hands for the bags.”

Your mother made a vague gesture of agreement. “Take her. Bring back more than you think we need. And if they have those little battery-powered fans, grab two. I’m serious about sleeping downstairs if the bedrooms stay like this.”

Your father added, “Last heatwave we had—what was it, six years ago?—we ended up with every mattress in the living room and the extension cords looking like a rat’s nest. I’d rather not repeat the fire hazard if we can help it.”

Steve nodded, still shirtless, the scatter of moles across his shoulders visible every time he shifted. “I’ll keep an eye on the cords if it comes to that. For now let’s just survive the morning.”

The hours that followed moved slowly under the weight of the heat. Your parents eventually migrated to the porch with cold drinks and a deck of cards they barely touched. Conversation drifted from the failing forecast to whether the grocery store would still have frozen berries to an old argument about who had promised to replace the outdoor thermometer two summers ago. Your mother blamed your father; your father claimed Steve had been the one to notice it was broken in the first place. Steve, leaning against the porch rail with a glass of ice water, only raised an eyebrow and said, “I’m not getting dragged into this one. I was the one who had to drive to three different hardware stores looking for the right mount.”

You stretched out on a lounge chair in the thin strip of shade near the dock, still in the bikini, the open shirt discarded once the sun climbed higher. Steve worked on the propane tank a few yards away, the dark hair on his chest and stomach damp with sweat, the muscles in his arms and back flexing with every turn of the wrench. Every so often he glanced over. Every so often you adjusted your position just enough to make the strings of the bikini shift.

After he finished with the tank he walked over with a second bottle of water and dropped into the chair beside yours. Up close the moles on his shoulders were clearer, along with a faint scar near his ribs. He handed you the water without comment, then leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment against the glare.

“Your dad’s still mad about that thermometer,” he said eventually, voice low. “Six years and he brings it up like it happened last week.”

“He holds grudges about the strangest things.”

“Tell me about it. He still thinks I owe him a beer from a bet we made in college.” Steve rolled his head to look at you. “You’re quieter than yesterday. Plotting something, or just dying from the heat like the rest of us?”

“Both.”

His mouth curved. “Honest. I can work with that.” He let his gaze travel openly over the bikini. “You sticking with the same strategy today? Because if you are, I’m going to need a better poker face before we go into town.”

You took a long drink. “Depends. You planning to keep the shirt off?”

“Unless the store has a dress code, yes.” He scratched absently at the dark hair on his chest. “Feels better this way. And your mom already gave the official house policy: wear whatever doesn’t make you pass out. I’m taking that seriously.”

From the porch your mother called, “Steve, is the tank going to last the week?”

He turned his head without sitting up. “Should. I tightened everything. We’ll still want that ice though—freezer’s fighting a losing battle.”

“We’ll go after lunch,” your father answered. “No point melting in the car right now. The dashboard was hot enough to cook on yesterday.”

Steve looked back at you, voice dropping again. “Lunch. Town. Then we come back and your parents will probably be horizontal in front of the fans. Just so you know the schedule.”

The middle of the day turned heavier still. Even the shade felt insufficient. Your parents eventually abandoned the porch and retreated to the living room where two fans created a weak cross-breeze. They stretched out on opposite ends of the couch, your mother with a cold washcloth on her neck, your father scrolling through weather apps with increasing disgust.

“Forty percent chance of storms late tomorrow,” he announced. “Which means another full day of this first.”

Your mother groaned. “If I have to cook over a stove I’m going to stage a revolt. Frozen pizza, cold sandwiches, whatever. I don’t care.”

Steve, still shirtless, carried a bowl of ice cubes in from the kitchen and set it on the coffee table. “I can do sandwiches. Or we can just eat the ice. At this point I’m not proud.”

Your father reached for a cube. “Remember the summer the power went out for two days? We lived on peanut butter and whatever hadn’t thawed yet. You spent three hours trying to jury-rig the generator.”

“And nearly electrocuted myself,” Steve said. “Mark still tells that story like it’s funny.”

“It is funny,” your mother said weakly. “Now. At the time I was calculating how fast we could drive to a hotel.”

The talk drifted for a while longer until your mother sat up with sudden determination. “I can’t just lie here melting. Someone grab the board games from the hall closet. If we’re going to suffer, we might as well suffer with a distraction.”

Your father looked skeptical. “In this heat?”

“Yes. Something low-effort. Cards. Or that old Scrabble that always starts arguments. I don’t care.”

Steve pushed off the wall. “I’ll get them.” He returned a minute later with a small stack of boxes and dropped them on the coffee table. “We’ve got Scrabble, some battered Uno cards, and that trivia game nobody ever finishes.”

Your mother reached for the Uno deck like it was a lifeline. “Perfect. Minimal thinking. Deal.”

The four of you settled around the coffee table: your parents on the couch, you and Steve on the floor with your backs against the opposite sofa. The fans hummed. Ice melted in glasses. Steve remained shirtless, the dark hair on his chest and the line of moles across his shoulders impossible to ignore from this close. You were still in the bikini, the open shirt long since abandoned.

Your father shuffled with exaggerated care. “House rules: no stacking draws, no arguing about wild cards, and if anyone flips the table I’m turning the fans off.”

“That’s cruel and unusual,” your mother said, accepting her cards. “Steve, you’re on my team if we end up pairing off.”

Steve glanced at his hand. “I accept. Mostly because Mark cheats at this game.”

“I do not,” your father protested.

“You absolutely do. You ‘forget’ to yell Uno until someone’s already called you on it.”

You drew a card and settled more comfortably, knees brushing Steve’s. The game began in a slow, heat-drugged rhythm, complaints about the cards, half-hearted trash talk, your mother declaring she was too hot to care about strategy. Conversation wandered between plays.

Your father discarded a yellow five. “If the storms actually show up tomorrow I’m sleeping through all of them.”

Your mother played a skip. “You say that every time and then you wake up every time thunder hits.”

Steve laid down a draw-two with mild satisfaction. “Last time we had a real storm out here the power went out for six hours. We played this exact game by flashlight until the batteries died.”

“And you accused me of hiding the good cards,” your father said.

“You were hiding the good cards.”

A half-empty water bottle sat on the table between you and Steve. When it was your turn to drink you picked it up, took a slow swallow, and deliberately let a thin stream of water escape the corner of your mouth. The drop slid down your chin, traced the line of your throat, and disappeared straight into the valley of your cleavage. You made no move to wipe it away.

Steve’s eyes followed the droplet the entire way. His next card hit the table a fraction too hard.

Your mother, focused on her hand, only said, “Someone pass the ice before the rest of it melts.”

You set the bottle down within Steve’s reach. He picked it up, took a drink of his own, and when he handed it back his fingers lingered against yours. Under his breath, low enough that only you could hear, he said, “You’re doing that on purpose.”

You drew a card and kept your voice mild. “It’s hot. Water goes where it wants.”

His knee pressed against yours under the table. “Keep it up and the next game we play won’t involve cards.”

The round continued. Your father got stuck with a growing pile of draw cards and groaned about the injustice. Your mother won the first small hand and celebrated by pressing the cold washcloth more firmly to her neck. Steve kept his eyes on the game whenever your parents looked over, but every time you shifted or reached for the shared bottle his attention dropped to the damp path the water had left on your skin.

Another hand began. Conversation drifted to whether the trivia game would be more or less painful than Uno, to an old argument about a missing Monopoly piece from years ago, to your mother’s half-serious threat to declare the kitchen closed until October. Through it all the bottle passed between you and Steve. Each time you drank you allowed another small, deliberate spill. Just enough to trace another line down your chest. Steve’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. His bare shoulder brushed yours when he leaned forward to play a card.

Your father finally threw his remaining cards down. “I’m out. It’s too hot for spite.”

Your mother stacked the deck with a sigh. “Fair enough. At least it killed an hour.”

Steve helped gather the cards, still shirtless, the happy trail and the scatter of moles on full display as he stretched. “Ice run still happening?”

“Yes,” your father said. “Before I melt into this couch permanently.”

The drive into town offered temporary mercy. The car’s air conditioning felt almost aggressive after hours of humidity. Steve drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gearshift. He had pulled a shirt on only long enough to walk into the store, then stripped it off again the second the bags were in the trunk and the doors were closed.

“Better,” he said, tossing the shirt into the back seat. The dark hair across his chest was still slightly damp. A mole near his collarbone stood out against the tan. “I forgot what cold air felt like.”

You angled the vent toward your face. “Town was packed. Everyone else had the same idea.”

“Saw at least three people buying out the frozen aisle.” Steve’s hand settled on your bare thigh, thumb stroking once before resting there. “Your parents have completely surrendered to the heat. No comments about the bikini. No comments about me walking around like this. It’s almost disorienting.”

“They’re just trying not to die.”

“True. Still convenient.” His fingers traced a slow line along your leg. “And that little water stunt during the game? I saw every drop. You’re lucky the table was between us.”

The rest of the drive stayed quiet in the way that felt charged rather than empty. By the time you pulled back up to the house both of you were flushed for reasons that had nothing to do with the temperature outside.

Your parents were exactly where you left them. They barely looked up when you carried the ice past. Your mother only said, “You’re saints. Both of you. Put the ice straight in before it surrenders.” Your father asked if the electrolyte packets had been in stock.

Late afternoon dissolved into the same heavy press of heat. Your parents eventually retreated to their room with a fan and the announcement that they were done negotiating with the weather for the day. The lower floor went quiet except for the hum of appliances working overtime.

Steve found you in the kitchen drinking cold water straight from the jug, still in the bikini, skin damp from the humidity. He caged you against the counter without preamble, bare chest against your back. The hair on his stomach scratched lightly against your skin. His mouth found the side of your neck.

“They’re finished for the night,” he murmured. “Heat finally knocked them out. Which means the rest of the house is ours.”

His hands slid up your sides, under the loose edges of the bikini top, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. “I’ve watched you in this thing since breakfast. Watched the way the strings dig in when you move. Watched you watch me. Watched that water run straight down your chest during the game while your parents were sitting three feet away. So if you want to touch, touch. I’m done pretending I don’t want you to.”

You turned in the circle of his arms. Up close the moles on his shoulders were distinct, the dark hair on his chest soft under your palms when you set your hands there. Steve’s breath left him in a rough exhale.

“Yeah,” he said. “Like that.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth, close, deliberate, still not quite a real kiss, then lower along your jaw. One hand slid into the back of your bikini bottoms, cupping bare skin. The other stayed between you, guiding your palm down the line of hair on his stomach until your fingers brushed the waistband of his shorts.

“That’s what the whole day has been,” he said against your skin. “You in almost nothing. Me in almost nothing. Your parents too miserable to care. I’m not interested in waiting for the temperature to drop.”

You could feel how hard he was against your hip. The offer sat in the humid air between you, clear, unfinished, heavy with everything that had built since the first day of the heatwave.

Steve’s forehead rested against yours. His voice dropped lower still. “Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me to keep going and we stop pretending this is still a game. I’m right here either way.”

Outside, the lake stayed flat under the heavy sky. Upstairs the fan in your parents’ room hummed steadily. Down here the only sound was the two of you breathing the same thick air, the question still open, the heat showing no sign of breaking.

Steve’s hand flexed on your ass. He didn’t push further. He simply waited, shirtless and close and entirely too patient, for whatever you decided to do next.

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁. . ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁. . ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁. . ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁

Taglist: @sheisjoeschateau @yikesdrama @jorkingtodjo @justalongfortherideee @tiredpurpleee @gcfspice @hello-nah817 @strangegirl26sff @miahslt91 @offbrandhandymanny @jas-mines-things @swaggyvlad @entercarolina @eller41 @purplequeen64-stuff @sunshinewriterx @sshxamy @lottiesscar @mikefaistwife @mysticbellie @ilikereadinghardcoresmut @allthelove-a @nicherthanu @djosprincesss @djoshairychest @lananabanana42 @twisteduniverse5 @whoreforbarnes @folkwhore8 @st4rg1rl88 @eli0eli0 @vehementlyelectrifiedknowledge @noisybakerybanditlight @purgatorysilverstarrr @athenaelle @soggycerealtbh @powerpuffedbjtch @louisbelongstome28 @shecleansup @whispersoflost @keerygirlie98 @exooojongdaeee @stoneyggirl2

[romanceandruiin]

She's Too Young

jack abbot x fem!reader

Summary: Robby convinces Jack to come out for a drink and becomes smitten with a wild young girl dancing on top of the bar. 

warnings: 18+, age gap, mention of sexually explicit fantasies (exposing breasts and receiving female masturbation), touch on the topic of drinking and consenting, if I missed anything please let me know!

author note: okay darn it I'm making this into a series because im already planning just how hot and sexy this can beeeee.

wc: ~2.1k

Dr. Jack Abbot was not supposed to be out tonight. After a grueling night with a stab victim and another, yes another, baby jane doe, he was supposed to go home, sleep for a thousand years, and enjoy his next couple of days off. But Robby called him at around 8 PM. “What are you doing?” “Trying to get my beauty sleep.” He replied rolling in his sheets. “Well knock it off, that shit faded ages ago. Come get a drink with us.” “Come on man—” “I came out last time after you called me 50 times.” Jack looked at the side of the bed. His prosthetic leg propped up easy for reach. Oh for fuck sakes. “One beer and I’m gone.” “I’ll have 4 beers for you waiting.”

He quickly got dressed, running his wet fingers through his hair to fix and reshape his curls. Why am I even doing my hair? He brushed his teeth, grabbed his jacket, and headed out the door. The nearby bar was a 10 minute drive, and surprisingly easy to find parking. Once inside he met with Robby and the other day shift folks, celebrating and drinking away another shift. They cheered as Jack made his way to their table. Santos sarcastically raising her glass at him. “Oh my god they’ve let the senior citizens out tonight.” She laughed. “And how's charting coming along?” Jack quipped back. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the table.

Robby’s warm hands hooked around his shoulder, handing him a beer bottle. 

You were on the other side of the bar dancing. Girls night out that you'd planned weeks ago with friends. You wore your favorite white baby tee, low waisted leather pants, and black pointed toe shoes. You hair was curled and swooshing around as you danced and swayed and lost yourself in the music. Grinding and playfully groping on your friends, because of course that’s what girls do. And then suddenly you found yourselves dancing on top of the bar, putting on a show. 

At first the loud noise had startled Jack, blurring his vision. Robby gently squeezed his arm, relaxing him. “Seems like a couple of girls are dancing on the bar.” He said pointing in your direction. That’s when Jack turned to look and saw you. Everything was in slow-mo. Yes all of the girls were extremely gorgeous, but you? You were this man’s fantasy. He watched you, moving and twisting your hips and waist. The way your pants were just a little too low. His eyes trailed up your bare stomach to notice the t-shirt suffocating your breasts. Fuck she’s not wearing a bra. His mind was racing watching you dance as he took another swig of his beer. He stayed like that for a long time, completely infatuated with the sight, making Robby laugh. “Oh no.” “What?” Jack said, snapping out of the trance you’d kept him in. “She’s too young for you man.” 

“You don’t think I still got it?” “I think she’ll take one look at you and take you back to the nursing home.” He kept his eyes on you. Studying your hips and arms. Smiling as you laughed and hugged your friends. A couple of guys reached their hand out to help you and your friends down from the bar. Suddenly Jack gained a confidence he didn’t know he had. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the fact Robby didn’t think he could do it. Or maybe he was just tired of being scared. He put his beer down and shoved his jacket into Robby. “It’s show time,” he winked as he walked to your direction. 

While your friends were entertaining the guys that had helped you down, you watched the hottest man you’d ever seen coming your way. Your breath caught in your throat. His pepper hair with messy curls, his slimmed down face kissed with freckles and all the right signs of age. His forearms so toned. You licked your lips at the sight of him. He stood right next to you, leaning on the bar. You watched him for a second, waiting for his big move. “You wanna water?” He asked right into your ear. “A water?” You asked confused. What the hell? “Yeah. You must be thirsty from all the dancing.” Before you could answer he signaled to the bartender for two waters. You stood there shocked. No sleezy comment? No groping? No creepy man shit you’ve come to expect? “Thank you so much for caring about my hydration.” You joked. “Well you know dehydration is a leading cause of spoiled nights.” He joked back. He somehow inched a little closer to you. Your arms were just barely touching, and it made your cheeks flush. 

“What are you a doctor?” He reached back to grab one of the glasses of water to hand to you. “I am actually.” “Is that what you tell women to impress them?” “It’s what I’m admitting to impress you.” His eyes locked on to you as he took a sip. Oh he’s smooth. “And when you’re not telling women you’re a doctor?” I asked, lifting my eyebrows. 

“I’m whatever you want me to be.” He said, biting his bottom lip. Oh how you love an older man, and this man right here was already turning you on. You had nothing to say, so you took another sip of water, trying to distract from the fact he had gotten you to smile. He had gotten you to flush your cheeks and actually feel a little thrown off. “What’s your name?” You asked. “Jack.” “Oh so Dr. Jack huh?” You moved a little closer, fitting between his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jack tensed up, he didn’t think about how far he was getting with you. From the corner of his eye he could see Robby and the day shift watching. He felt a little embarrassed. Look at this incredibly hot woman wrapping herself around an old man. But then he thought to himself this hot woman is fucking wrapped around me. “Dr. Jack Abbot actually.” He said with a little sass. You giggled, looking at his lips and then back up at his eyes. He was smiling now, his little crows feet forming on the sides of his eyes, his teeth peaking out as he bit his lips, looking at your face. He couldn’t get over your big eyes and long lashes. You could make him melt with just those alone. Your skin looked so soft. Every now and then he could smell your perfume. Vanilla with cedarwood, and cherries. It was driving him crazy having you this close. “So what’s the plan here…Jack?” You asked. “Well I gotta be honest. I didn’t expect to get this far?” “Why not?” You pouted. “Didn’t think you liked an older guy.” “I love an older man.” You whispered.

He turned to look at Robby, who was completely confused. All of day shift clapped and cheered, causing you to turn back to see them. “Those your friends?” “Coworkers.” He corrected. “They said you were too young for me.” “Well that’s not nice.” You fingers started digging through his hair. “How ‘bout we give them another show?” Without hesitation you leaned in to kiss him. Jack was completely stunned. For a second while you studied his lips, he was completely still. No way this worked. No way she’s actually kissing me.

You pulled him in deeper, this time his hands gripped onto your bare waist, holding you still as he kissed you back with a passion that sent a hot wave down to your pussy. He kissed you with such force that you felt your knees wanting to give way, he was such a good fucking kisser. You loved the way his hands were gripping you, so firm and sexy like he was ready to just take you right there and then. You both found a rhythm that was hungry for more as he cupped your cheeks and pulled you in closer. Oh my god just fuck me right here you thought to yourself. It was mainly the alcohol talking, but also definitely just your clit already desperate to be touched. 

When Jack finally pulled away, he couldn’t help but gently tuck the stray stand of hair behind your ears. He needed to take you home now. Before he wakes up and this was all a sick dream. “Wanna get out of here?” He asked you. “Yeah.” You said in disbelief. He held your hand firm, already a little possessive and walked you over to Robby. He grabbed his jacket from his hand. “Goodnight everyone.” He winked. 

You played into it, blowing a kiss and winking at everyone before he rushed you out the door. You two couldn’t even make it down the street without him pinning you up against the wall to kiss you again. It was addicting for him to grab your waist. It was the perfect size for his hands. You were made for him to just grab you and throw you around however he pleased.

He walked you back to his car, helping you into his truck that was too tall for you. Once inside you two finally caught your breath. That’s when he finally noticed the smell of alcohol on you. He looked at this hot girl in his car, and started freaking out. You were drunk, he had taken you away from your friends, were you even able to make your own decisions? Fuck this is really bad he thought as he gripped his steering wheel. You on the other hand were drunk, but very much in need of this man. He was silent holding onto his steering wheel, so you decided to creep over, climb on top of him, and straddle his lap. He winced a little, holding you up by the waist. “Oh my god did I hurt you?” You asked scared. “No no no.” He said adjusting you. “S’just uh my prosthetic leg.”

“And does that stay on during sex?” You giggled kissing on his neck. He couldn’t think straight. He really needed to fuck you. He would fuck you right here. Ripping off your shirt to expose your perky breasts and taking them into his mouth while his hands reached into your pants to play with your swollen and wet pussy. He wanted it so badly, but he couldn’t help but feel disgusting that he was taking advantage of you. “Sweetheart,” He said, pushing you off him. “You’re drunk.”

“So?” You giggled, leaning in for more. He again pushed you back. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.” He admitted. “I-I took you away from your friends. They’re probably wondering where you are.” “You don’t want me?” You felt those words hit the pit of your stomach. Something about being rejected, especially by him, made you feel small. Ugly. Suddenly you even sobered up to realize that maybe you were the fool in this. He sat up, springing his hands to cup your face. “No no no,” he said in a calm whisper. “Trust me I would fuck you right here right now.” “So just good ahead and fuck me,” you said lifting up your shirt. “Woah.” He laughed pulling your shirt back down. Your nipples were staring right at him. Already he had been hard, but with you on this lap he could feel his cock pressing up against you. “I wanna fuck you when you’re not drunk. Okay?” “But I’m soooo much tighter when I’m drunk,” you whined. 

“Let me take you home. Okay?” You sighed in defeat. You had to admit, something about this was way hotter to you. A man that wants to respect you, and make sure you always have consent. You made your way back to your seat as he turned on the car.

“Okay where am I taking you?” “Mmm I don’t know,” you whined out. You were getting sleepy. The kind of drunk sleepy that makes everything you say or do incoherent. He’d seen it a million times at work with young girls coming in because they’re too drunk to stand. Shit shit shit. You were closing your eyes, making yourself comfortable against the window. “Hey no no no you gotta stay awake and tell me where to take you.” He said reaching over to grip your shoulders. “Your house.” You blurted out. “I wanna go to your house.” You giggled and closed your eyes. 

Jack watched you fall asleep. Your were so calm and peaceful. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in a long time, and now she's asleep in his car.

Fuck what did I get myself into?”

part 2!!

[kingdonfangirl]

Kokomo—

— Inspired by “Kokomo” by The Beach Boys & Cocktail (1988)

summary: Abbot, Mohan, and Whitaker go on a search-and-rescue mission to fetch Robby, who they haven't heard from since he left for his sabbatical. They figured they'd find him D.O.A. in some sketchy motel, only to discover him on a tropical island, off the Florida keys, by the name of Kokomo…. pairings: Michael Robinavitch x Reader | Samira Mohan x Jack Abbot | Dennis Whitaker x M! OC tags: Robby goes on his sabbatical; Tropical Barbie! reader; Jack and Samira are bad at feelings; Gay Dennis Whitaker; You and Samira become besties

Read on [[tumblr]] or [ao3]!

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previous ch // next ch

Chapter 2: And then we’ll take it slow

Yep, there it was. The massive headache that accompanied every Cocoloba outing.

Robby groaned, pushing himself up off the bed.

He noticed the empty spot beside him. Where were you? Wait—

As the events of the night before came back to him, his hangover worsened. He groaned even more.

Abbot, Mohan, and Whitaker were here.

He got out of bed, trying to piece together last night.

━━━ . °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡ 

- the night before - 

"Come on.” Jack commanded, “We're going." 

"Who's your friend?" you asked, looking at Jack with a curious expression. 

Robby didn't really want to have to explain himself to either of you.

Jack's stern face let you know he had not come in peace. Seeing the way Robby struggled to get words out, you took a step back from him. 

"Right, well… if this is your husband or something and I'm the other woman…" you said while stepping back, but you were giggly and slurring your words a bit, more satisfied with your own comic relief than anything.

"No, honey," Robby said, pulling you back into his arms, and trying to keep his words level. "But we should go."

It was how you met Jack Abbot, Dennis Whitaker, and Samira Mohan.

Jack texted everyone to meet at the entrance.

"Whitaker! Mohan!" Drunk Robby's arms pulled everyone into a hug.

For Jack's sake, Whitaker and Mohan tried to act like they hadn't taken two shots in the half hour they'd spent looking for Robby. Hey, they didn't go looking for them, the shots came to them!

You immediately took to Samira.

"Oh my god!!! I love this dress," you said, taking her hand and twirling her around.

"Stop, I was just about to comment on your top!"

Robby smiled, because his girl did always look beautiful. Like a mermaid. 

He did introductions.

"Wait. How do you two know each other?" Samira asked, confused.

Her eyes widened at the way Robby tucked you under his arm, your hand unabashedly planting itself on her boss' ass.

"Oh…"

"Well…” you looked between the group, “should we get going?"

As soon as Jack caught sight of the set of keys twirling around your fingers, he shot Robby a look.

Robby, embarrassed, asked if you could hand them over to Jack. Better for the one sober person to be the driver. You shrugged, and passed along the girly keychain adorned with vibrant, tropical hue-colored charms and seashells. 

You all ended up packed into your Jeep. Jack driving, Robby in the passenger seat. Dennis, Samira, and you squished into the back. 

The night air rushed through the open sides of the doorless car. The drive was along the coast. They took in the smell of the sea, and the sight of palm trees overhead. If you looked up, each flickered past against a sky crowded with stars. They weren’t in Pittsburgh anymore… 

"So, do you guys all want to catch up over a drink, or…?" you suggested, leaning in over the middle console. You had the keys to the coolers at the beach hut on you, and you could fix everyone a drink while they talked. They seemed like they had a lot to say to each other.

"It's late. We should all get some sleep and meet tomorrow," Jack said. He didn't seem to be a fan of yours.

"Oh, well." You collapsed back into your seat again. 

Robby directed Jack to park in your designated spot.

"You live here?" the guy with the kind blue eyes asked. Dennis. Awe, he’s cute. 

"Yes, I do," you nodded your head. The move was exaggerated because it felt fun. You were still very tipsy. You hopped out of the car. 

They all followed.

"This is my home… You guys are welcome whenever. I assume you're staying in the guest area?" Some villas were exclusive to owners, while others operated as a hotel.

They nodded.

"Right. Well, take that path over there. Follow the signs. Robby?" You looked at him. "You staying with me tonight?" He usually did. But you weren't sure yet what the dynamic was with this group. He didn’t sound too convincing when he denied that Jack was his husband…

"I'll be in after you in a minute," he said, pressed a kiss to your lips, and watched until you disappeared into the villa.

Dennis was confused. Samira was confused. Jack looked angry, but also confused.

A burp escaped Robby's lips.

"Maybe we should talk tomorrow."

━━━ . °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡ 

- present -

Robby got washed and dressed for the day.

You'd left ibuprofen and a glass of water out for him. He took them gratefully before heading out to follow the path where he knew you'd most likely be.

When he opened the door, he found Jack already standing there.

"Well…” Robby said, “Morning…"

"Morning?"

Robby cringed at the tone. He really was not in the mood to receive a military lecture from Jack Abbot. He'd been having a perfectly splendid time on the island without thinking of Pittsburgh. He wasn't ready to open the gates and let the flood in.

Robby moved past him and walked down the path that led to the beach hut. It was a stone trail cutting through sea grape and swaying palms. The morning sun was hot on his shoulders, the sound of the waves growing louder with every step. 

"Robby, what the hell, man? I have spent the past month and change worried out of my mind, because you stopped responding to my messages, to my voicemails. I thought you dropped off the face of the Earth, only to find you here playing tourist, in bed with a girl over half your age?"

Robby shook his head. Not ready to let the flood in.

In lieu of answering, Robby asked, "How did you find me?" 

"The kids slipped some tracker into your wallet."

Robby did a double take. "What?"

"It's a good thing they did. Dana was doing daily rosaries for you, hoping you'd find your way back. I found Santos looking up how much time had to pass before you could request a court to presume your death in absentia. Hey— don't keep walking. What the hell is your problem—"

It was the first time Jack laid hands on him. He gripped his shirt with both fists, forcing Robby to look at him.

"I thought you were going to die!" His voice came out strained and raspy. He forced himself to swallow. "On that last day, I thought you were saying goodbye because you had a death wish, and that it was the last time I was ever going to see you. Only to find out you've been playing tropical tourist all this time." Jack released his shirt with a shove. "Tan looks good on you, by the way," He added bitterly.

Robby watched the way Jack shook his head, blinking away.

Jack wasn't wrong. That had been his plan. 

But the night before leaving, an old Tom Cruise movie was playing on TV. He'd put it on casually, a glass of bourbon in hand, drinking alone in his apartment. Robby had watched that movie hundreds of times in his youth. He'd always wanted to visit the island in the movie. He figured, if it really was the end of his life, he might as well do so now. He’d shoved clothes into a bag and bought the first flight out.

He'd found this place on impulse. It was supposed to be one last trip. A final appreciation of the world's beauty before his departure.

He wasn't sure when he was going to do it. But every night, he sat on a barstool at the beach hut and watched the sun set. At around six p.m., the sky in Kokomo turned gold, then coral, then a deep violet over the water. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed.

It became a habit. 

"A Cuba Libre, right?" you asked one evening, after the fifth day he'd kept up the routine. You'd been the bartender on shift the past few evenings, and when you weren't, you hung around the hut or the beach anyway. You were curious about the sad man, who sat in the exact same spot each evening, and asked for the exact same thing.

He didn't look like he was on vacation. The way he so intently took in the beach made you feel like there was something more going on.

The next day, you weren't working, but you were waiting for him behind the bar. You placed two Cuba Libres in front of him and came around to keep him company, nursing the other one in your hand.

You didn't ask about his personal life. You just kept him company. He seemed so down and lost… It reminded you of when you'd first gotten to the island, too. So you took him on as a little project.

All you knew was that he was a trauma doctor from Pittsburgh on a three-month sabbatical. You didn't need to know the rest. 

You showed him around the island during his first week. You took him out on the boat you chartered for the villa every once in a while, took him snorkeling, took him dancing. The tanner his skin got, the more he smiled. It didn't take long before you admitted to yourself you were attracted to him, and impulsively kissed him during a night out.

It was a whirlwind romance. You both agreed there would be no expectations. He was leaving in three months time. Right now, you were just enjoying each other's company.

"I know. I know I have a lot to explain," Robby told Jack. "And I will. Tonight, after my shift."

"Shift?"

That was another thing. Because he was so used to being busy, it hadn't been long before Robby grew restless from the pure leisure. 

You'd laughed when you recognized it in him, and mentioned the hut needed another bartender. He hadn't mixed drinks in his life. You taught him everything you knew over the span of a week, taking note of how he did everything with practiced care. He took a methodical approach to preparing cocktails. Clinical, even.

It made for the best drinks. And by the end of each lesson, you'd both ended up drunk on your kitchen floor, with him on top of you.

Jack stopped short when he saw Robby go around the bar of the beach hut, fist-bump the guy on shift, clasp a hand on his back as if relieving him from his post. 

Robby threw a towel over his shoulder, and braced his hands on the counter.

"What can I get you?"

"Are you fucking kidding me, Robby? What is this?"

Robby was about to answer when he got distracted by the sight of you coming his way.

You were just coming out of the water. Your hair was wet and your skin was still covered in droplets. You'd wrapped a sarong around your waist, but he admired the way your exposed curves looked in your bikini, hips swaying as you walked toward him across the sand, the water glistening behind you. 

"Hey," you called out, "I was going to cover for you. I wasn't sure you'd be up in time."

You grabbed a seat on a stool, reached over, and kissed him.

You sat back to catch Jack's eyes on you.

"Morning," you said his way.

He mumbled something in return. It most certainly was not.

"Want your smoothie?" Robby asked you.

"Ooh, please." You drummed your hands on the counter. "You should make one for your friend as well."

Jack watched the way Robby pulled out a collection of tropical fruits and juices from the coolers. Mango, papaya, a bundle of bananas from the bunch hanging behind the bar. The drink came out orange. You smiled at Robby by way of thanks.

Jack watched the other cup being placed in front of him. He pushed it back.

"You don't want it? Fine, suit yourself," Robby said, taking it for himself.

"What I want is a proper explanation."

"And you'll get one. Shouldn't we wait for Whitaker and Mohan, though?"

"Oh, Samira is a sweetheart. Is she your girlfriend?" you asked.

Jack looked alarmed by your question.

Robby hid a laugh against his arm.

"Well, she wasn't going to be Dennis'…" You pouted.

Jack begrudgingly agreed to wait until Whitaker and Mohan joined them. It wasn't long before they did. Dennis was in a blue linen shirt and board shorts; Samira, in a short, white cotton dress.

"Your wardrobe is the cutest," you gushed, after complimenting her dress.

"I was going to ask you where you got that swimsuit!"

"There's a surf shop nearby. I'll take you," you told her.

Robby was smiling at the fact that you were getting along. He reached over to clasp a hand on Dennis' shoulder. "You want a breakfast smoothie?"

"Uh, sure," he responded, and then added,"You look… tan."

"I'd hope so. Needed some color. I don't know how we went so long without vitamin D."

You were nodding, chin in  your hand. "We really do underestimate the wonders it does for our mental health."

Jack wanted to scoff. His first impression of you was that you were some boho free-spirit who went through life leeching off older men. He didn't trust you one bit. And he didn't want Samira around you. You'd rub off on her.

"You work until midday today, right? I don't think anyone is scheduled to charter the boat today. I'll check, but it'd be a good idea to take your friends out on it, no?" you suggested.

Dennis and Samira both perked up.

"We didn't come here to vacation," Jack said. "We came to find Robby and bring him back."

"I'm not going back yet," Robby said. "I appreciate you guys coming here, but the plan was always to take the full three months. So you might as well enjoy the trip, because you're not getting what you came for."

It was the most serious Robby had sounded in a while. You watched the power struggle between the two men play out. Samira and Dennis did as well.

Then Jack sighed and grumbled, "I didn't even bring my good leg."

━━━ . °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡ 

You'd all meet at the dock at one in the afternoon, you agreed. 

Samira told you she hadn't brought a swim suit, so you took her to the surf shop.

It was a little open-front shack up the beach road with surfboards leaning against the walls, wind chimes made of shells clinking in the breeze, and racks of bright swimsuits out front.

You each grabbed a pile of bikinis to try on and went into the wooden dressing rooms, side by side.

"So… you and Robby… are a thing?" she called out.

You smiled. "I mean, yeah, I guess. He's a real fun time."

You came out in your biking, looking at your reflection in the mirror. The bottoms looked funny… Not your fave.  

Samira came out as well. She was looking at you questioningly. "Robby is fun?"

Your eyebrow rose. "Don't you agree?" And then, taking in her appearance, "Oh my god, that bikini looks incredible on you. Jack is going to freak!"

At that, she stuttered. "W-what?"

"Aren't you and Jack, well… a thing?" Your lips curved into a smirk, turning it right back on her.

"No! We're not."

"That's a shame," you said. "Does he know?"

"Know what?"

"That you're not a thing."

If possible, she turned redder.

"He's my boss! And he's… older."

"Oh." You frowned, cocking your head to the side.

"I mean no offense! Just… I don't think I could…"

"Oh, no offense taken. I'm having the time of my life." Your lips curled up again. "Well. If you change your mind, I'm pretty sure he'd say yes. And when he sees you in that bikini…"

Samira turned to look at herself in the mirror. It was skimpier than she'd usually go for. But your words got to her head, and her heart raced at the idea of Jack seeing her in this.

"I'll just buy this one," she said.

You smiled, feeling quite pleased with yourself.

━━━ . °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡ 

Jack closely watched the way you and Robby interacted. On the boat, you moved together to weigh anchor. You gave him instructions and he followed them without a hitch.

You were the one navigating, and Jack could understand why Robby had been attracted to you in the first place.

You seemed very sure of yourself. Very unapologetic about what you said, about what you wore. You ignored Jack almost entirely. He probably wasn't doing a good job of hiding his suspicion of you, but you didn't seem to care. You moved around him and talked with Dennis and Samira instead.

He was right to worry about you rubbing off on her.

Once you were all aboard, you called out, "Oh, Mira! There's a bathroom below deck you can use to change."

When she came back, she wore only a tiny white bikini. Jack nearly choked on his water.

You caught the reaction and drifted by with a little smile on your face, moving over to Robby. He was starting to catch on to what you were doing. You were a little minx…

You took them on a tour of the coast. The afternoon was gorgeous.

The water was shifting from aqua to deep sapphire over the reefs. The sea spray cooled you against the heat. The shoreline looked like a postcard. 

Dennis and Samira were suddenly grateful for Robby's midlife crisis.

You finally dropped anchor in a cove that was practically a private beach. There was a crescent of powdery sand, backed by jungle-green cliffs. The water so still and clear, you even caught sight of turtles.

The boat had a grill, which Robby was using to make some skewers. Jack stood beside him.

You went into the water with Samira and Dennis, pointing at the colorful fish that swam by. 

"This is amazing!"

You agreed.

"How long have you lived here?" Samira asked. 

"Uh… four years now?"

"Where are you from originally?" Dennis followed up. 

"Florida," you stated. 

Your tight-lipped answer didn’t deter Samira. "I mean, when did you decide to move here? This place is a dream, I can’t imagine this being my everyday."

"You guys are both residents at Robby’s hospital, right?" you asked.

They nodded. 

“I’m a first year; Samira is in her fourth,” Dennis said. 

You sighed. You really didn't like talking about this part of your life, because people usually didn't get it. But you figured they'd be likely to understand.

"The year before coming here, I started my MS1 at Hopkins,” You tried not to read too much into the way both their eyes widened. "And it was the worst year of my life.”

You shook your head at the memory, and continued with your story, “I thought… once I finished my med school application cycle… the worst would be over. For four years, when I wasn't doing research, I was shadowing; when I wasn't shadowing, I was doing volunteer work; I was getting clinical hours or studying for the MCAT; I was tutoring. All to get into a good medical school. I had a very successful application cycle, and for a moment, it was all good and well. But once I started… it was truly my rock bottom."

Samira and Dennis were watching you with soft eyes now.

"One day, I ended up in the hospital because of a really bad stress-induced stomach ulcer," you told them. "The doctor who treated me recognized me, because I'd shadowed with him the year prior. He told me that it would be the first of many… that it was all part of it… that it would some day be worth it. It had gotten so bad I'd coughed up blood. I remember it still dripping down my face and onto my hand… and it just… It wasn't the life I wanted for myself.”

Dennis and Samira seemed lost in thought with the story. So you figured you’d continue your monologue, “I used to come here all the time with my family when I was a kid. My mom always told me that if I liked it so much, I should just move here when I retire. But… I didn't want to wait. Anyway, the villa used to belong to some great-aunt of mine. She had no family. My mother inherited it when she passed, and they don't use it."

"Aren't your parents mad at you for dropping out?" Samira asked, mostly out of her own experience.

You shrugged in return. "They weren't around much by then. My father moved to Mexico to run his beer company. And my mother is a surgeon in Seattle. I don't even think they're aware I'm living here. I kind of took the keys and left."

Dennis and Samira were slack-jawed.

"Dinner's ready!" Robby called out. You all climbed back onto the boat.

━━━ . °‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡ 

"This looks good, baby," you told Robby. He smiled as you bent down to press a kiss to his lips.

Dennis and Samira weren't used to seeing their boss do PDA.

Jack, Robby, Samira, Dennis, and you sat around the deck table, passing the condiments around as the sun sank lower, leaving streaks of pink and orange in the sky. 

"So…" Your eyes moved over everyone. "Tell me about you guys."

There was quiet. A nervous fluttering of eyes.

"No?" you asked, bringing the moscow mule you'd prepared for everyone except Jack to your lips. "Okay, then…"

"Robby," Jack said. It was a plea for him to finally cut the bullshit. 

"Fine. Okay. Sure. What do you guys want to know?"

"Well, for starters, it would be good to know what your plans for coming back are…" Dennis said nervously.

"Are things not going well with Al-Hashimi?" Robby quipped. He sounded bitter, Jack thought, so he couldn't pretend he didn't care about what was going on at the Pitt.

Samira grew defensive. "She's being a great Acting Chief. Considering ours abandoned us."

Your eyebrows shot up. Sure, you didn't know much of Robby's background, but you were protective of him. You hadn't expected her to come out swinging at him.

"You guys know I was in a bad place—" he started.

"Hey,” You reached for his hand. “You don't have to explain anything you don't want to," you told him.

"Like hell he doesn't," Jack barked your way.

"Don't talk to her that way," Robby said.

Dennis and Samira brought their drinks to their mouths.

Jack scoffed. "Okay, Robby, I see it. You're living out your little Cocktail movie dream. I remember that. Sure." He shook his head. "It's a fantasy. Real life is back home. And the same problems you left with will be waiting for you when you go back."

"I don't know that I am," Robby said.

Samira and Dennis’ eyes widened.

You gripped Robby's hand. "Robby?"

He looked at you.

"I know we haven't spoken about it yet. But… I don't know that I want to go back after my three months are up. I don't want to go back."

You nodded, understanding the underlying meaning. "Okay. We can talk about it."

"No. Robby, what are you going on about? There are people relying on you. There are people who need you."

"No, that's the thing, Jack. That same mentality is what kept me there. What made me think things wouldn't be okay without me. Yet here we are, a month and a half later, and things seem to be going great if it means you three can just pack a bag and come here."

"That's not what this is about," Jack said. "The fort is being held down, yes. But what, you're just gonna spend the rest of your life as a bartender in a beach hut? You're a doctor, Robby. It's what you were trained for. It's what you love."

"No, it's not. Not really. There are other things I love."

His eyes found yours.

"You've got to be kidding me," Jack said. "Are you listening to yourself? Are you going to abandon your life, your friends, your family, for some twenty-year-old you met at the beach who has no idea what struggle is?"

You felt Robby’s fist curl under your touch.

"Jack…" Robby warned.

"No, no. Because what happens when the bubble bursts, Robby? When you get sick? When the depression swallows you up again? Because you're not getting your feelings sorted out, and that isn't something you can ignore. You've already tried! And what? You're gonna rely on tropical Barbie here to be there for you? Or is she just gonna move on to the next middle-aged who’s willing to throw a couple bucks her way—"

A hand slammed onto the table. You'd never seen Robby this mad.

Robby's chair scraped back. 

He didn’t look your way, or Jack’s as he left the table. He went below deck, and you followed, calling after him softly. 

Dennis muttered a quick "excuse me" and left to put the food away.

Samira and Jack were left alone together. 

She was looking at him, but his eyes were trained on the plate of food in front of him. The vein in his neck pulsing.

"You're wrong," she said, softly.

He stayed quiet.

"We talked with her a bit. I think she understands him better than you know." She sighed, and stood to take her own plate inside. Before doing so, she turned in his direction again. “You two need to have a conversation where you're open to hearing each other out. In the meantime, don't put your anger onto her."

With that, she left.

previous ch // next ch

[cat-mermaid]

Spider-Man: Beyond the Spider-Verse (leaked trailer footage)

[qirarey123]

Did her best 💖

[gatorgirlie]

happy saturday, im gonna talk my shit about gator tillman.

i’m not a canon gator defender, but like………..

you gotta understand conservative racially abusive households (im from the south and WHEW). that man was a product of his environment and it doesn’t erase his shittiness - but when the show literally paints out his internal war between good and evil, people see the good in him but know it’s because of his upbringing, and is shown to be a scared, broken, abused child inside of a man? yall can’t sympathize with that? again, im not saying you gotta like him - i totally get why you wouldn’t, but… you can’t even understand the depth of the character and how tragically beautiful his story is?

when people are fans of gator, we aren’t obsessed over the racist pig lmao. were like… unfortunately i think just into broken sad men.

anyways, fanfiction isn’t real so i made gator tillman a ally and liberal in my fanfiction LMAO. if you wanna read, click 🍒 here 🍒

[strangegirl26sff]

i'm about to be waaaaay more active around here just you wait dear children

[in-my-feels-probably]

Ivy (SMAU) - Rabbot x Reader

“My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand. Taking mine, but it’s been promised to another. I can’t stop you putting roots in my dreamland. My house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I’m covered in you.”

Michael Robinavitch and Jack Abbot have always been something impossible to define. You’re a nurse who has become one of the only comforts and constants in their lives, watching them orbit around something neither of them has ever been brave enough to name. When those boundaries begin to blur, the three of you have to decide what happens when the thing you’ve been avoiding is maybe also the thing you need most.

13. Under Pressure

“Love’s such an old fashioned word, and love dares you to care for the people on the edge of the night. And love dares you to change our way of caring about ourselves. This is our last dance. This is ourselves.”

You can find the masterlist to this ongoing series here.

This is canon divergent set between season 1 and 2, aspects will be kept and referenced, but this is largely set in a fictitious season 1.5 or so. Keep that in mind if you notice differences!

If you see a typo, no you don’t. Please pretend it’s not there, I’m not going back to find and fix it. Your girl is too tired.

Comment or message me if you want to join the taglist :)

This is the second to last chapter! Ivy will be 14 chapters in total, this being the last text chapter and there being one more final prose chapter. I know this SMAU is a bit shorter than my other three, I thought the quality would go down trying to stretch it further. Hopefully you guys have been enjoying it! I love seeing all your comments, it genuinely makes my day. Thank you so much for all the support!

I’ll see you soon with the last chapter :)

taglist: @straykids1011 @escapingrealityalways @kneelforloki @kingsqveen @thehockeynerd30 @1234nla @bornconfvsed @misskeyher @rosewood04 @oldbaddies @strangegirl26sff @mythology-dragon @mysatnin @rainaris-ac @flurmont @raangereyes @hazydespair @elizamoe133 @thesunxwentblack @rwizzsworld @olivia21blunt @silovicbaird @mfstargirlsworld @tiddiesshakeshownu @flurmont @jwinz @redolently @reignof-fyre @nagisaroll @yiiiikesmish @libbe334 @butarealgoodtime @lillysbigwilly @miserablydefiantsky @softpia @stylesonlyangel4

[boogieboopie]

~ FRANK LANGDON X PEDS!READER ~

part 7~ bar time

collection masterlist

{ A/N- i dont have much to say, just that i realized while making this ive barely made reader do anything peds related... but whatever, her personality is also pretty universal even though i had a specific reader in mind but im lazy so #whatever }

you walked through the bar doors a few minutes after eight, immediately regretting the amount of time you'd spent standing in front of your bedroom mirror. it wasn't even a particularly nice bar. just one of those places close enough to the pitt that half the hospital seemed to end up there after shifts, with dark wooden tables, exposed brick, neon signs glowing over the liquor shelves, and music loud enough that you had to lean toward whoever you were talking to.

the place was packed.

you spotted trinity first. she was standing at the bar with dennis, both of them waiting for drinks. trinity had one elbow resting against the counter, looking entirely too comfortable for someone who had spent the day running around the emergency department. dennis was beside her, shoulders slightly hunched as he tried to hear whatever she was saying over the music.

you smiled and walked toward them.

then you saw frank langdon. you stopped for half a second, not enough for anyone to notice. at least, you hoped not.

you'd spent so long seeing frank langdon in scrubs that you'd apparently forgotten there was a whole person underneath them. he was standing a few feet away from the bar, talking to one of the bartenders while he waited for his drink. dark jeans, black shirt, faded jacket. his sleeves were pushed up slightly, exposing his forearms, and his hair was a little messier than it usually was at work. without his id clipped to his chest or a stethoscope around his neck, he looked different.

"you're staring." you turned sharply. trinity was looking at you with that mischievous look you knew all too well.

"i'm not!"

"you were."

dennis looked between the two of you. "who?"

"nobody," you said quickly. trinity's mouth twitched. "right..." you leaned against the bar beside them, trying to get the bartender's attention. "what are you getting?"

"whatever doesn't taste like rubbing alcohol," you said. trinity snorted. "that's most drinks here."

"great."

you finally caught the bartender's attention and ordered. while you waited, you glanced toward frank again. he was already looking at you, you immediately looked away.

you could feel yourself smiling, which was ridiculous.

"you look nice." you turned. frank had stepped closer to the bar. "thank you."

"you went with the second one."

you frowned, confused. "what?"

"the outfit."

your eyes widened. "oh yeah"

the conversation moved on, and for a while you stayed mostly with trinity and dennis until more people started arriving. samira was first, walking through the door with victoria. a few minutes later mel came in behind them, already laughing about something her and emma had apparently been discussing in the car.

then the table began filling up. suddenly everyone from the day shift seemed to be there, people were shouting over the music, someone ordered another round. dennis was explaining something to victoria that nobody could hear, trinity was arguing with mel about something that seemed increasingly irrelevant, samira was laughing beside you.

and somehow, through all of it, you kept ending up next to frank. you'd move closer to hear someone and he'd be there. you'd turn around to say something and he'd already be looking at you. you'd laugh at something and catch his eye across the group. it became a pattern. and eventually you stopped wondering why.

you were talking to him more than anyone else. you'd started with work, then somehow you'd moved into coffee, then bakeries, then music, then a story about the worst date you'd ever been on. frank was actually laughing, not the small polite smile you sometimes got at the hospital. a real laugh.

you looked at him for a second longer than you meant to.

"what?"

"nothing."

"you're looking at me."

"i can look at people."

"you can."

he took a sip of his drink.

"you've been doing it a lot tonight."

your face warmed.

"maybe you're just sitting in my line of sight."

"maybe."

and then you noticed his hands. you'd seen them a thousand times at the hospital. in gloves. filling out charts. typing. doing procedures. but sitting here, with his sleeves pushed up and a drink in one hand, you suddenly noticed how nice they were.

you looked away. then back. he caught you.

"what?"

"nothing."

"you sure?"

"yeah."

he smiled.

"you've said that a lot tonight."

you laughed.

"maybe you ask too many questions."

"maybe."

someone further down the bar called your name.

you turned.

"what?"

samira waved you over.

you started to move, but frank leaned closer.

"you know you can just tell me if i'm bothering you."

you looked at him.

"you're not."

"good."

there was something about the way he said it.

quiet. almost relieved. you smiled.

"you look different outside the hospital."

his eyebrow lifted.

"good different?"

you immediately regretted saying it.

"i-"

he smiled.

"i'll take it."

"that's not what i meant."

"what did you mean?"

"i don't know."

"okay."

he was still smiling.

you took a drink to hide your face.

this was bad. because you'd known frank langdon for months. you'd watched him work. you'd seen him exhausted, irritated, stressed, focused, sarcastic. you'd watched him deal with patients. you'd watched him deal with you. but you'd never really looked at him like this. and now that you had...

you couldn't stop.

you noticed the way his shirt fit. the way his hair fell over his forehead. the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. the way he leaned toward you every time the music got louder. you found yourself thinking, very unwillingly-

frank langdon is really fucking attractive.

"you're doing it again."

you looked at him.

"doing what?"

"thinking."

you laughed.

"how do you know?"

"you get this look."

"what look?"

"like you're trying to solve something."

you shook your head.

"maybe i am."

"and?"

you looked at him.

then smiled.

"still working on it."

he smiled back.

"take your time."

liked by denn_whit and others

y/nlovesyou off the clock plans finally made it out of the groupchat 😎🍸

view all comments

itstrinbtch love getting crunk with my coworkers

vic.javadi slide 5 was unnecessary

samimohan okayyyy slay

dr.melking Finally got everyone in one place 😅

mateodeeznuts im so hugober

mateodeeznuts *hungober

mateodeeznuts *hungover

m.robinavitch Great night

nurse.princess We need to do this again!!

nurse.perlah Cute 🥹

franklang_ when did you have time to take all these pictures?

y/nlovesyou @/franklang_rare frank instagram activity

franklang_ @/y/nlovesyou don't get used to it

itstrinbtch @/franklang_ wow

samimohan @/itstrinbtch 👀

vic.javadi @/samimohan i'm not getting involved

mateodeeznuts @/vic.javadi frank has emtered the chattttt

y/nlovesyou @/mateodeeznuts mateo get to bed you idiot

taglist [closed] - @straykids1011 @h0e4fictionalme-n @angelxxrose@tulipfields11 pinguphd@shortqueershakespeare @blurredkissesx @angelicncity @lovesackles @boooootomato@strangegirl26sff @fawnsfern @vanillafan6 @siriuslycrying-blog @elizamoe133 @toxiccfrog @stargirlbabies @womenenthusiast8008 @silovicbaird @urfavgingerrrrrr @lavend3rdust @gglouise23 @stylesonlyangel4 @clowninavan @mrscreel @urfavhanna @soobshi @softpia @ashleydunbarr @strangegirl26sff

[athenas-rose]

Back To ‘85: In Another Time

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 3k words

warnings: time travel au, drugging, fluff, angst, violence, nausea, season three adjacent, slow burn,

Back to ‘85 ← find all parts

After escaping the Russians, you and Steve find yourselves caught between a dangerous chase and feelings neither of you can ignore. But one question still remains: what if you don’t want to leave?

The truck rattled violently along the underground tunnel, carrying the five of you through the endless Russian base. You and Steve, however, seemed completely unconcerned in your current state. 

“Jesus,” Steve slurred, gripping the sides of the walls. “Slow down!” 

You both immediately dissolved into loud laughter, Robin stared at you from where the three of you were cramped into the back, Dustin making a horrible attempt at driving for the first time. “What is wrong with them?” She uttered, totally baffled. 

Steve looked at you, his swollen eye wide with amusement. You stared back for a second before your expression suddenly brightened. “Whoa.” You exhaled.

“What?” Steve asked, brows furrowed.

“Your hair!” You exclaimed, and before he could react, you reached over, threading your fingers through his messy brown hair and tousling it.

Steve laughed even harder, leaning closer into your hand with the most ridiculous grin on his face. 

“Isn’t it soft?” You asked, stuck in a trance. 

“Yeah,” he replied, still laughing foolishly. “You like it?” 

“Very much.”

Robin immediately broke the moment, reaching towards you and pulling your hand away. “Okay. Hands to yourselves.” You frowned at her while Steve continued giggling, threading his own hands in the same spot you touched prior.

Erica gasped from the front, suddenly pointing ahead. “Dustin, watch out!” She warned.

“Shit!” The truck jolted as Dustin scrambled to slow it down. 

“Come on!” Robin shouted, pulling you two out of the truck. “We gotta go, now!”

Everyone piled out and hurried toward the elevator, as it finally began climbing, carrying you back to the surface. Steve, somehow, had managed to climb onto one of the carts in the shaft, the two of you whooping as the cart rolled alongside the rising elevator. 

“Hey!” You shouted through your laughter. “You look like you’re surfing!” You pointed out.

Robin turned to Dustin, lowering her voice warily. “They seem drunk.” She whispered. 

“Why would they be drunk?” Dustin asked, bending over Steve where he clumsily fell off of the cart. “He’s burning up. One sec, Steve?” 

He looked over, Dustin pulled his eyelid down, spotting just how red the whites of his eyes were. “Your pupils are super dilated.” Dustin said. “Maybe he’s drugged.” 

He shook Steve, grabbing his face. “Steve, are you drugged?” He repeated, a little louder to get through to him. 

Steve looked exasperated, frowning deeply. “How many times, dad?” He scoffed. “I don't do drugs. It’s only marijuana.”

Dustin sighed, losing hope. “This isn’t funny, okay? I need to know what they did to you.  Are you gonna die on us?” 

You gasped dramatically, where you were sitting in a corner. “Wait. If Steve dies, who am I gonna live with?” You asked.

Steve piped up immediately. “You can still live with me.” He shrugged. 

You smiled dreamily. “Okay, good.” 

Dustin groaned, moving the conversation back to more important matters. “They’re gonna be looking for us up there, so I need you to tell me where you parked your car.” 

“Oh!” Steve sat up. “Can we make a pit stop at the food court? I would kill for a hot dog on a stick.” He sighed.

You agreed, nodding your head furiously. Thinking about it, when was the last time you ate? “Ooh!” You chimed in.

“All right, yeah, food.” Dustin nodded. “Yes, you can have as much food as you want, but only if you tell me where your car is parked.” He clapped.

“Uh-oh.” Steve’s brows raised. “The car’s off the board.” He realized. 

“What?” Dustin looked like he was about to pull his hair out.

“The Russians, they took the keys, like forever ago.” Steve answered, as both you and him bent over in a fit of laughter. “That’s a bummer, right?”

The elevator doors finally opened, and the five of you stumbled out onto the loading dock again, blinking at the rush of fresh air. You took a deep breath, Steve inhaled beside you. “Oh my god.” You breathed. “That tastes so good. Steve, can you taste the air?”

A happy expression crossed over his features, rolling his neck back. “I taste it! I taste it!”

Your moment was interrupted once a Russian guard suddenly stopped directly in front of you, his eyes widening at the sight. “Stop!” He called out.

“Shit!” Dustin froze in his tracks ahead. “Come on, come on!” You all turned to run, Steve keeping a steady hand on you, even though he could barely keep himself upright. 

You ran blindly after Dustin, Steve close behind you, and the sound of Russian soldiers echoing through the corridors of Starcourt. 

“Woah!” Steve shouted as Dustin suddenly veered around a corner. “Where are we going?”

“Just trust me.” Dustin replied without hesitation. Robin pushed through another set of doors and the noise of the chase immediately faded beneath the muffled sound of a movie playing. 

You blinked, realizing Dustin had led you into the back entrance of the cinema. On the screen, bright blue light flashed across the room as the movie continued, a large crowd watching, completely undisturbed. 

Robin looked around quickly. “Okay, seats. We need seats.” You followed her down the aisle, only to discover that almost every seat was occupied, except for two, front row, right at the end. 

She looked at them, before turning to you and Steve, and grabbing your shoulders, pushing you down into them. “You two, sit.”

Steve dropped into the seat beside you with a grimace. “No, no, no! These seats are way too close!” 

“Then don’t watch the movie.” Dustin spoke up, crossing his arms in front of you.

“But we wanna watch it.” Steve retorted.

“Then watch it!” Dustin groaned.

“Shh!” Someone from behind you hissed, you copied their gesture, looking at Dustin pointedly.

Robin looked sternly between the two of you. “Whatever you do, don’t…go…anywhere.” 

Steve nodded, stifling a laugh. “Fine, dad.” You snickered, as Robin narrowed her eyes at him, heading toward the other end of the row alongside Dustin and Erica, leaving the two of you alone.

The movie continued playing, then Doc’s voice echoed through the theater. “I sent him…into the future!”

Your eyes widened, slowly, you turned to face Steve. He was already looking at you, his face split into a huge grin. “Hey…” you lifted your hand to cover your mouth, keeping your giggles quiet. “Is this about you?” He pointed at the big screen, eyebrows raised. 

You shook your head, laughing harder. “No way.” 

“You’re telling me you travel through time and they make a movie about it?” Steve wondered aloud.

“I think the universe is making fun of me.” You rolled your eyes. Steve chuckled, scooping a handful of trashcan popcorn into his mouth before turning back toward the screen. 

Then Steve shifted in his seat, you felt his arm slowly lift beside you. He hesitated for half a second before awkwardly stretching it across the back of your seat, you glanced at him, but he looked determinedly away from you, pretending he hadn’t done anything.

Your cheeks immediately heated, and in response, you leaned a little closer. His smile grew even wider, though from several seats away from you, Dustin rolled his eyes from where he had been staring. “And Steve said it was impossible.” He muttered sarcastically underneath his breath, but you were too busy trying not to smile.

A little while later, the theater had gone quieter as the movie continued, the adrenaline from running had finally started to fade. Dustin returned from contacting the rest of the party, plopping back down into a seat beside Robin.

“Hey, do you have a—” he instantly cut himself off. Because the two seats that had been previously occupied by his fellow friends, were now empty. He blinked, looking around then giving Robin a look. “Where the hell are they?” 

She looked down the row where Dustin pointed at your absence, her expression falling. “They’re gone.”

You and Steve had somehow ended up beside one of the theater's water fountains, still talking about the movie like you’d completely forgotten there were Russian soldiers searching the mall. 

“Wait,” Steve said as he paused quenching his thirst for just a moment. “Him and his mom are the same age?”

“No, he’s in the past.” You explained. “So the future is actually his present, because that’s when he’s supposed to be.”

Steve's confusion only deepened. “And that’s basically what happened to me.”

He blinked. “Wh-what?”

“I traveled forty years into the past.” You gestured vaguely while sitting behind him. “But when I go back, this won’t be my future anymore. It’ll be my present.”

Steve titled his head. “That made absolutely no sense.” 

You laughed, pushing him gently out of the way. “It did. Now move, I’m thirsty.” 

Steve straightened himself as you leaned down to drink from the fountain, looking upwards. “Whoa.” He echoed. “You gotta check this out, the ceiling—it looks beautiful.”

You finished, watching Steve staring at the huge domed ceiling above the two of you, the lights reflecting in soft patterns. You joined up, both of you looking like idiots as you swayed beneath the lights. But then, everything started to move, your stomach twisted. “Steve…”

He groaned, copying your movements as he held his own stomach. “I don’t feel so good.” He confessed.

“Me neither.” The room spun harder, and in thirty seconds flat, you both practically crashed through the bathroom doors, stumbling into separate stalls. And almost instantly, the two of you were hunched over, emptying the contents of your stomachs. 

The bathroom had finally gone quiet, Steve sat on the floor while trying to get his breathing under control. On the other side of the stall, you sat against the wall, equally exhausted but finally feeling like yourself again. 

For a while, you two didn’t need to talk, you could just feel each other's presence. Then you heard Steve letting out a tired laugh. “You know something?” He asked.

Your head perked up, listening closely. “What?”

“This has been the best summer of my life.” Steve answered honestly. 

You couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Even with the Russians?”

“Okay, maybe not that part.” A quiet laugh passed between the two of you. Steve’s expression softened where you couldn’t see. “I mean it though, you falling into our storage room somehow changed everything.” He sighed. 

His voice became slightly quieter. “You made me look at everything differently, and for once in my life…I don't feel so hopeless anymore.”

You looked down at your hands, your smile slowly fading. Because you were supposed to go home, that had always been the plan. You weren’t supposed to stay in 1985, you weren’t supposed to get attached, or meet Steve and discover that talking to him was the easiest thing in the world.

It dawned on you that you would never meet another Steve Harrington, and that was the worst part. There wasn’t another boy who would’ve held onto you through a falling elevator, fought Russians to protect you, made you laugh when you were terrified, or looked at you like you had always been a part of his life. 

You swallowed hard. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Steve instantly heard the change in your voice, and pushed himself through the tight divider between the stalls. You looked up at him as he sat opposite you, but he remained silent.

You had been through too much together for either of you to not face the truth head on anymore. Steve’s eyes softened as he watched you. “I think I finally know what love is.”

You stopped breathing for a second, he gave an embarrassed little laugh. “Would it be pretty disgusting if I kissed you right now?”

A weak laugh escaped you, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about the fact you were sitting on the bathroom floor, let alone his blood stained sailor shirt. “Probably.”

Steve smiled, before leaning in closer anyway. For a second, you could feel his breath ghost over your lips, having never seen his brown eyes this close before, then he finally closed the distance. 

It was a slow and uncertain press of his lips against yours, though impossibly gentle. For a moment, the crack, the Russians, the accelerator, and the unknown future that awaited you outside seemed to disappear. It felt like fireworks exploding somewhere in your chest, like your heart had been waiting for this without you ever knowing it.

When your lingering lips pulled apart, neither of you spoke. Then, a tear slowly slipped down your cheek. Steve’s smile disappeared, his eyes filling with concern. “Hey…”

You shook your head, wiping it away quickly. “I’m so, so sorry, Steve.” 

He understood what you meant immediately, you still had a whole other life waiting for you, one that didn’t involve him. His expression fell, but he didn’t back away. 

“Of course…” Steve whispered, a quiet scoff leaving him. “I fell in love with the one girl I can’t have.”

You closed your eyes, he didn’t deserve this. He deserved someone so much better than you—someone that wouldn’t hesitate for him, someone that could love him with their whole heart just the way you wanted to.

Steve gently cradled your jaw, and slowly rested his forehead against yours. Neither of you knew what would happen next, the fight wasn’t over yet. Because if you couldn’t have forever, at least you could have this moment together.

The bathroom doors suddenly slammed open. “There you two are!” Dustin’s voice echoed loudly through the silence.

You and Steve jumped apart, Robin stood beside the shorter boy, eyebrows raised like she had some sort of inkling of what had just happened. 

Dustin, completely oblivious to the moment he’d just interrupted, shook his head. “Come on, we have to go!”

Steve cleared his throat, glancing at you for just a second. “Yeah. Uh…”

You stood up with a sigh, looking down at Steve. “What? Are you just going to sit on the bathroom floor all day, sailor boy?” You smirked, as Steve grinned, pushing himself up. 

You followed them out of the bathroom, neither you nor Steve mentioning what had just happened. But the second you stepped into the rest of the mall, you realized there was no ignoring your problems anymore. 

There was nowhere left to run. You were crouched behind the counter with Steve, Robin, Dustin, and Erica tightly packed beside you. The mall which had been packed with people earlier, was now infiltrated with Russian soldiers, leaving you to the last option—hide and pray you don’t get caught.

Boots echoed across the tile, you pressed yourself lower, desperately trying to make yourself smaller. Nobody dared to move, nor breathe loudly. You squeezed your eyes shut as footsteps approached, each one closer than the last.

The sound suddenly stopped, and your heart nearly stopped with it. Then you felt something warm against your hand, opening your eyes, Steve had reached for you, clasping both of your hands tightly in his.

His eyes met yours, there was no teasing grin, he looked just as scared as you felt. You squeezed his hand back hard, then—

A deafening crash sounded, the car that had been stationed in the mall went flying into a nearby store, slamming directly into the group of Russians. You couldn’t believe it, when the noise finally settled, you all slowly lifted your heads above the counter. 

You followed everyone’s stuck gaze, and standing on the floor above beside the ledge, were a group of people. Your eyes widened, a girl stood at the front, one hand raised. You recognized her immediately, it was El. Now you understood exactly what she’d meant by being different, special as she had said.

Max stood beside her, looking just as shocked to see all of you. Beside them were a few boys around Dustin’s age, and two older teenagers you didn’t recognize.

They rushed down the stairs, Dustin immediately ran towards El, throwing his arms around her. “You flung that thing like a hot wheel!” He exclaimed.

Erica suddenly stopped walking. “Lucas?” 

A face that had similar features to her stared at her in disbelief. “What are you doing here?” 

Erica immediately pointed towards Dustin and Steve. “Ask them. It’s their fault.” She shrugged.

Steve rolled his eyes. “True, yeah. Totally true.”

Then Max’s eyes landed on you, her expression widened in surprise. “The time traveler?” She pointed at you.

You froze in place, as all their heads whipped towards you. An older girl with mousy features looked between you and Steve. At that moment, you realized your hands had still been interlocked, you let go of him with a deep blush coating your cheeks. “I’m sorry. Who are you?” 

Steve opened his mouth before you could open yours. “She’s from the future. The Russians brought her here.” 

The other older boy frowned in confusion. “Russians? What Russians?” He repeated.

Lucas matched his expression. “What are you talking about?”

Dustin threw his hands up. “Didn’t you hear our code red?”

“We couldn’t understand what you were saying.” Lucas answered.

“Goddamn low battery!”

Steve groaned, pointing at him. “How many times do I have to tell you with the low battery?” 

Lucas glanced at him. “Russians, as in, they’re working for the Russian government?”

Dustin nodded. “They somehow reopened the gate, but instead of leading just into the upside down—” he pointed directly at you. “It brought her here. From the year, 2026.”

The words seemed to hang in the air as everyone processed. You barely had time to add your own input before a strained sound came from behind you.

El’s knees buckled, she hit the floor as everyone rushed toward her. “My leg!” She cried.

You dropped beside her, watching as her face twisted in pain. You carefully pulled back the fabric around her injured leg and froze when you saw the deep cut and some strange object lodged into it.

No one knew what to do, frozen in panic. As you knelt there feeling your own head spin, one thought cut through all the rest. When the Russians opened up the crack…did it bring something else through, too? Something far worse than yourself?

taglist: @unclejeezysblog @selinna29 @hazzaisonfirelol @crackncrinkle @youreasnack @oleander-by-mothermother @electra-hearttt @oliviaharrington @strangegirl26sff @cosmiiwrites @beautifulsoulsaretaken @bamitzzsam @wandadjangomaximov @4v3rybl0zz0m @djodjosiwa @eerilyjaggedconstruct @maemeru @ddjjoo21 @1iliaanxz @iamwarrenspeace @whoxoxovi @finniewolfsoft @dustymerlin @scorpioluvrrr @rruuudii @harbourverse @tokalotashiz @skelkitty @scoopstroop0704 @blurryshycloud @moonlights-muse @insomniacpen @peaxxhyyangell @melonme18 @newtie-mybaby @wandasimp-69 @satoruyazzy @munsonintheupside @folkwhore8 @leaveonthelight29 @lilyhours @stephstephstephsteph @dramatic—sigh @qiuekr @thelastbookmark @hexyissy @cocoabears @jene11 @niyaniyapantsonfiya @nowandajenn @buckleyverse @libsfics @faithsturniolo

[frootybb]

Lip Service

Gator Tillman x Reader

Summary: You’ve been the sheriff’s station secretary for months now, and you still can’t keep your hands (or lips) off Gator’s mouth. Those plush, naturally pink, ridiculously soft lips drive you crazy every single shift. Gator pretends to be annoyed by your constant touching and kissing… but he never actually stops you.

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: establish relationship, playful banter, lip obsession, kissing, soft Gator, pure self-indulgent fluff with zero plot

———————————· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·———————————-

———————————· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·———————————-

You’d been obsessed with Gator Tillman’s mouth from the very first day you started as the new secretary at the sheriff’s station.

The place was a hive of small-town chaos, paperwork, ringing phones, deputies yelling across the bullpen, and Sheriff Roy Tillman barking orders like he owned the whole county (which, in a lot of ways, he did). You’d been hired to bring some order to the filing cabinets and the endless incident reports. On your first morning, Gator had sauntered in late, uniform a little rumpled, that deputy badge catching the light. He’d dropped a stack of crumpled citations on your desk with a lazy grin and said, “Mornin’, new girl. Try not to lose these. Dad gets real particular about the paperwork.”

That grin. Those lips.

Plush, full, naturally pink like they stayed flushed from the cold prairie wind or from talking too much. The bottom one especially looked so soft and pillowy you’d actually fumbled the stack of files, papers scattering everywhere. Gator had chuckled, low and easy, crouching down to help you pick them up. “Easy there. Ain’t no rush. Station ain’t goin’ anywhere.” Up close, his mouth was even more distracting, warm, inviting, the kind of mouth that made concentrating on boring reports damn near impossible.

From that day on, it was all over for you.

Gator started finding excuses to linger by your desk. “Need these filed proper,” he’d say, dropping more papers with that cocky tilt to his head. Or, “Hey, you see my keys? Swear they walk off when I ain’t lookin’.” You’d catch him watching you sometimes, that lopsided smile playing on his lips, and your fingers would itch to reach out and touch.

Weeks turned into stolen moments in the break room, late nights when the station was quiet, and eventually something real. He was still the deputy living in his father’s shadow, eager to prove himself, quick with a joke or a punch when things got messy, loyal but a little lost. You became his quiet constant in the middle of the station’s storm.

Tonight, after a long shift, you’d ended up at his place on the outskirts of town. The old Western murmured on the TV, half-forgotten. Gator was stretched out on the worn couch in his faded black t-shirt and gray sweatpants, one arm draped along the backrest. You were curled in his lap, exactly where you belonged after hours of typing reports and answering phones for his father.

Your fingers found their favorite spot again: his mouth.

You traced the perfect cupid’s bow of his upper lip, then dragged your thumb slowly across the plump lower one. So warm. So impossibly soft. That natural pink deepened under your touch.

Gator let out a long, dramatic sigh, tipping his head back. “Again with this? Darlin’, you been starin’ at my mouth since day one at the station. Thought you were hired for typin’, not… whatever this is.”

You grinned, cupping his jaw with both hands and gently turning his face toward you. “How am I supposed to focus on filing when you’ve got lips like these? So full, so plush… it’s distracting, Gator. Criminal, even.”

He tried to scowl, but the corner of that very mouth twitched. “Criminal? These lips have talked down plenty of idiots and read plenty of rights. They got a job to do. Stop playin’ with ‘em like they’re your personal stress toy. Dad’s already ridin’ my ass about bein’ distracted on patrol.”

“Stress toy?” You laughed softly and leaned in, pressing a slow kiss right to the center of his mouth. Then another, sucking gently on that pillowy bottom lip until it swelled under your attention. “Mmm. Best one I’ve ever had. So soft and pink. I could do this all night.”

Gator groaned, but his hand settled on your hip, fingers flexing. “You’re killin’ me here. I come home after dealin’ with Roy all day and now my own girl’s harassin’ my face. What’d I do to deserve this?”

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, still tracing his lower lip with your thumb. “You smiled at me that first morning. That’s what you did. One look at this mouth and I was gone. Now I get to touch it whenever I want.”

“Whenever you want, huh?” He raised an eyebrow, that cocky deputy smirk returning. “Last I checked, I’m the one with the badge. Maybe I oughta cuff you to the desk tomorrow so you can’t keep assaultin’ an officer of the law.”

You gasped theatrically. “Officer Tillman, is that a threat? Or are you just tryin’ to get me alone in the station again? Because I remember what happened last time you ‘lost’ your keys near my desk.”

Gator’s smirk widened into a grin. “Hey, those keys really did go missin’. Swear on it. And you’re the one who kept leanin’ over the files in that sweater. How’s a man supposed to concentrate on reports when you’re right there lookin’ all…” He gestured vaguely at you, then at his own mouth. “Anyway, point is, these lips are on duty. They got lines to read, perps to intimidate. Can’t have ‘em all swollen and pretty from your… experiments.”

“Experiments?” You nipped at his bottom lip playfully, tugging it with your teeth before soothing it with a kiss. “This is science, Gator. Important research. How else am I gonna know exactly how soft they get after a long day chasin’ down speeders?”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm in his chest. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that? Most secretaries just bring coffee and file the DUIs. You gotta go and make my mouth your full-time hobby.” Despite the words, he didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand slid up your back, pulling you closer as you kissed him again, deeper this time, savoring the plush give, the way his lips molded perfectly to yours.

When you broke apart, his mouth was noticeably redder, that bottom lip even fuller and glossier. You couldn’t resist running your fingers over it again. “See? Even better now. All pink and used. My favorite look on you.”

Gator shook his head, pretending exasperation. “Used? Darlin’, if Roy walks in tomorrow and sees me lookin’ like I lost a fight with a vacuum cleaner, I’m blamin’ you. ‘Sorry, Sheriff, your secretary’s got a lip fetish. Send her to HR.’”

You burst out laughing, burying your face in his neck for a moment. “He’d probably just grunt and tell you to toughen up. ‘Real men don’t let secretaries distract ‘em, son.’” You did your best impression of Roy’s gruff tone.

“Spot on,” Gator said, grinning. “That’s exactly how it’d go. Then he’d make me run drills till I puke just to prove a point. All ‘cause you can’t keep your hands off my pretty mouth.”

“Pretty mouth,” you echoed, delighted. “So you admit they’re pretty?”

He rolled his eyes, but the fond look gave him away. “They do the job. Kiss you right, tell you you’re bein’ ridiculous… maybe smile nice when I’m tryin’ to get out of paperwork. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” You framed his face again, thumbs stroking those beloved lips. “I love them, Gator. Not just ‘cause they’re soft and full and the perfect shade of pink. Because they’re yours. They call me ‘darlin’’ across the bullpen when no one’s listenin’. They kiss me stupid in the evidence room when we’re supposed to be inventoryin’. They make all the crappy days at the station worth it.”

For a moment, the playful mask slipped. Gator’s expression softened, eyes warm as he looked up at you. “Yeah? Well… they’re all yours, sweetheart. Even when Roy’s breathin’ down my neck and I gotta act like I ain’t thinkin’ about you sittin’ at that desk all day.” His voice dropped, a little rougher. “Just don’t tell anyone I said that. Got a reputation to keep up.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” you whispered, leaning in for another slow, lingering kiss. He tasted like the coffee from the station and the beer he’d cracked open earlier, warm, familiar, addictive. His lips moved against yours with that perfect plushness, yielding and demanding all at once.

When you finally pulled back, you kept playing, tracing, tugging gently, pressing soft kisses along the seam. Gator endured it with more fake complaints. “You’re gonna ruin me for actual police work. How am I supposed to read someone their rights when all I can think about is you doin’… this?”

“Practice on me,” you teased. “You have the right to remain silent… while I kiss you senseless.”

He laughed, deep and genuine. “That ain’t how it goes, darlin’. But I ain’t complainin’.” His hands tightened on your hips. “Keep goin’ if you want. But if these lips get any redder, I’m returnin’ the favor tomorrow at the station. Right there at your desk. See how you like typin’ with distractions.”

“Promise?” you asked, already leaning in again.

Gator didn’t answer with words. He kissed you instead, hungry and thorough, those perfect lips doing exactly what they did best.

You thought about all the station moments that had led here: the way he’d linger by the copier, “accidentally” brushing your hand when passing reports; the stolen kisses in the hallway when Roy was out on a call; the late nights when you stayed to help him with paperwork and ended up making out instead. He was still figuring himself out, caught between wanting to make his father proud and wanting something more, but with you, he let himself be soft. Let you indulge in your obsession without real protest.

You shifted in his lap, straddling him fully so you could look down at him. Your fingers never left his mouth, stroking, teasing, loving every plush inch.

“Love you, Gator Tillman. Lips and all the trouble they get into.”

He smiled up at you, that same lopsided grin from your first day, and pulled you down against his chest. “Love you too, station girl. Even when you won’t let a deputy’s mouth rest for five damn minutes.”

The TV played on. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees. Inside, it was just the two of you, secretary and deputy, paperwork forgotten, lips happily occupied.

And Gator? He never once moved your hand away.

. ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁. . ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁. . ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁ ⟡ ܁ . ⊹ ₊ ܁. . ܁₊ ⊹ . ܁

Taglist: @kristywidget97 @athenaelle @strangegirl26sff @jas-mines-things @eller41 @soggycerealtbh @powerpuffedbjtch @tiredpurpleee @louisbelongstome28 @shecleansup @whispersoflost @knights0fkylo @keerygirlie98

[strangegirl26sff]

awwwww i love this gator (reader is so real)

[dearwalker]

mask on, fuck it, mask off | sex pollen

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader Word Count: 8.4k

Contains Brand New Day spoilers 🕸️

Description: You’re spider-man’s closest thing to a friend since the world forgot his name. Helping him with gadgets, cleaning his wounds…all without him ever taking the mask off. His true identity has always been a barrier between you two, but what happens when he gets hit with the pollen, and not only him, but the creature lurking inside him fixates on the only person he gets to call home?

Tags/warnings: sex pollen smut, fem!reader, porn with plot, whiny desperate peter >>>, dry humping, piv, riding, oral fem!rec, fingering, dark!peter taking over for a bit, orgasm denial, prone bone, so much yearning, mask stays on…or does it?

Note: You have no idea how giddy it makes me to write him again. He had NO business looking that good in the movie so I had to get this out of my system. Enjoy 🤍

Masterlist

You've seen spiderman hurt many times. When you signed the lease of the first apartment you could afford as a recent graduate, you never thought that would become your new normal. 

The first time it happened was completely accidental. He’d arrived at the building in the middle of the night, bruised, bleeding and too disoriented to realize that the window he’d come through was not his. 

That night, the noise of a heavy body collapsing onto the floor woke you up. For one terrifying moment, you believed someone had broken into your apartment, only to switch on the lamp and find the city’s superhero groaning and pressing his hands to his side. His suit was torn there, and blood soaked through the ruined fabric onto your rug. 

He barely lifted his head when he heard you gasp, the lens of his mask focusing on your figure standing there with wide eyes, wearing only an oversized shirt.

“Wrong window,” he choked, then tried to hold himself up but immediately collapsed again. “Dammit,” he cursed, waiting for you to freak out any second now. 

You could have, but instead you rushed to him and knelt beside him.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Your hands hovered helplessly over his body, trying to see how bad the damage was in the dark. “You need a hospital–”

“No!” He snapped, trying to turn away but failing miserably. “I’ll be fine, I heal quickly.”

“You still need to stop the bleeding,” you countered, folding your knees under your body so you could rest on your calves. “Listen, I can help you. I took some medical courses last year and I have a kit somewhere.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes. He’d saved the city so many times, the fucking world, it was the least you could do to give something back. 

He considered his options for a second, and to be honest he didn’t have many. His body was betraying him, and he couldn’t even get up to fix it himself like usual. 

The blood loss made him nod, and you wasted no time in getting up and finding said kit. The blood loss also made him drift in and out of consciousness as you tended to the wounds on his ribs as much as you could. 

It did not make him less cautious of you though. When you noticed the rip on his mask over a nasty gash on his neck and reached for it, his hand closed around your wrist and even half conscious, his grip was strong. 

“Please,” he whispered. Pleaded. “Keep it on.” 

The fear in his voice made you promise you would. Even if you couldn’t get to that gash properly. Even when he fell asleep on your floor and didn’t wake up for six whole hours. 

The next morning, he opened his eyes and found you sitting on your bed, still staring at him. 

His hands patted his chest, and confirmed his arachnid powers had done its job and healed him mostly. But most importantly, his mask was still in place. With no warning from E.V of it being removed. He learned that you’d spent the night making sure he was still breathing without seeing his face. 

That had been one year ago. 

After thanking you profoundly for helping him, he’d repaired your window, apologized several times, and disappeared into the apartment next door. He then considered moving into another building, but the thought was brushed away very quickly when he remembered the balance in his bank account. 

So he acted more careful instead. For a while, he only turned back home when your curtains were already closed, or he only left the apartment when you had already left for your job (because yes, he absolutely researched the hell out of you after that night.)

Then he moved to the attic of the building. Bigger space, no neighbors, no risks. No you. Or at least he thought. 

Because some nights…some delirious nights he still found your window a few stories down, and the accidental visits became less accidental. When he was too badly injured to care for himself, he came to you, even after you confessed your degree had nothing to do with medicine. 

When he noticed you understood about his equipment malfunctioning, he’d bring it for you to inspect. When he became too reckless with himself you talked his ear off about how being difficult to kill did not make him immortal.

Somewhere along the way, you became spiderman’s friend. 

Spiderman was safer. With you, spiderman was the only part of him he could let you see. Because that was the thing, you only knew the masked superhero. 

He’d spent so much time blocking away his identity, making peace with the fact that there was no longer anyone in the world who would call him Peter and know exactly who that person was. That name only belonged to the people that once knew him, and no longer existed, so he never gave it to you.

Never showed you more than a sliver of skin when his mask rode up or glimpses of his abdomen when you tended to his wounds. He always kept that barrier and you respected it, even on those nights he was too weak to stop you. Even if sometimes not knowing the color of his eyes kept you up at night. 

A promise was a promise. 

Maybe that’s why he kept coming. Why he trusted you with a certainty he couldn’t understand. Why he eventually showed you his new living quarters in the attic and let you spend time with him. Why half a year ago, he added another chair next to his desk so you could work together, or help him when he was out patrolling and needed an extra set of eyes.

“I’m officially the girl in the chair, spidey,” you joked that time as you sat next to him, spinning around in your chair.

He’d gone quiet immediately, his body tensing up enough to make you frown, but then managed a small smile and said you were. You pretended you didn’t notice him being too quiet as he worked on his inhibitor after that. 

He was wearing a hoodie, sweatpants and the mask. Always the mask that didn’t quite let you see through him. After a moment of quiet, you rolled your chair closer to his and nudged his arm playfully. 

“You know I can’t keep calling you spidey forever, right?” 

He snapped out of his trance, and the chuckle that came from under the fabric was unmistakable. 

“Why not?” He nudged your arm back, but still focused on the device he was hunched over. “I like spidey.”

You put your elbow on the desk, resting your cheek on your hand so you could lean a little closer. 

“I like it too, but it feels ridiculous after having my hands all over your body almost every night.” 

The moment the words left your lips, you realized how bad that sounded. He straightened up, turning toward you.

“Wow.” Even if you couldn’t see the smile on his face, the lenses of his mask were quite expressive sometimes. He was amused. 

“That came out very wrong,” you said immediately, before he bursted into laughter. He had been laughing more since you entered his life. “You know what I meant,” you whined, laughing too with heat flooding your cheeks. 

“I think I know,” he chuckled, making you roll your eyes. 

“I’m being serious though,” you added, a little more quietly. “You don’t have to say your real name. Just give me something.”

“Mmm…” he acted like has considering it, going back to tinkering with the piece of metal between his fingers, but then his eyes drifted to the flowers he’d bought that morning, and the name came out of his lips before he could think twice about it. “You can call me Maynard.” 

“Maynard?” You repeated, suppressing a chuckle. “You don’t sound like a Maynard. That’s like an 80 year old man’s name.”

“That’s all I can give you,” he shrugged playfully. 

You had a feeling it went deeper than that, but you’d also learned not to push it with him. 

“Alright. Maynard,” you nodded, “but don’t expect me to use that name unless you’re dying. Guess I’ll stick to spidey for now,” you chuckled, going back to your own work as he hummed in agreement. 

The conversation ended there. With him trying not to think about your hands all over his body in…different conditions. 

Peter didn’t know exactly when his gratitude became longing. He could not identify the moment the friendship, the closeness, or just your smile, shifted into something he craved everyday. 

Despite the mask and the fake name, he knew that after years of being no one to everyone, he had become someone to you. And you had become everything to him. Even if it was behind walls he’d built, you were the person who knew him better than anyone alive.

Which is why, the night he lost control of himself after an unknown dust was thrown at him in a fight, he chose not to crash land into your room. 

Peter hit the floor of the dark attic with a loud thud, as his senses went overboard. His suit was sticking to his body uncomfortably due to the sweat coating his feverish skin. The fabric was intact, with no visible wounds in his body, just that burning sensation of something running through his veins. 

And that dark part of him he’d managed to lock down with the inhibitor, trying to claw its way out. 

“What the…what the fuck is going on,” he cursed, clutching his heaving chest as he panted against the worn wood floors. “I can’t–I can’t breathe…” 

The computer’s monotone voice broke through the silence. 

“You have arrived injured. I’m letting her know–”

“NO!” He cut the AI off, “EV, don’t tell her–”

“Message already sent.”  

He glanced up at the digital clock on his desk. 2:18 am. 

He groaned, grabbing his head when a wave of migraine hit him. He knew what came after that. The black eyes. The desire to break. To take. But this time something felt different. It was like a pull, looking for something or someone…for…for you? 

Oh fuck. 

You were going to come in and you were going to see him like this. No, no–

“Spidey?” You asked from behind the door, knocking exactly twice before opening it anyways.

The air changed the exact moment you walked in, and that something inside him shifted too. It became aware that the only thing it craved to survive was in the room now. 

He needed to get to you. He needed to pin you down and– 

“Don’t!” He managed to scream, holding his hand up weakly when you scrambled toward him. 

You stopped right in your tracks, eyes wide and running all over him, searching for torn fabric, blood, or anything that would explain why he looked like every breath was painful. 

“What happened?” You frowned, when you couldn’t find any source. “Did you get hurt?” 

You instinctively stepped forward, but he waved his hand in front of him again. 

“Stop, stop, stop,” he said quickly, “don’t come any closer.” 

The harshness in his voice caught you off guard, but what sealed the deal was him dragging himself further away from you. It was barely more than a clumsy, desperate crawl, but he managed to put a decent distance between you before collapsing against the side of his thrifted couch. 

He avoided looking at you. The oversized shirt covering your body, the comfy shorts you were probably wearing, the way your hair looked messy from rolling out of bed as soon as you got EV’s warning even if you had work the next morning.

You stayed right where you were, watching him. His suit had always fit him like it was painted on his skin, but every pant made his chest rise and fall beneath the fabric so violently that you wouldn’t be surprised if it ripped at the seams. 

This reminded you too much of the changes that happened in him months ago. 

It started with a sharpened temper, then the heightened sensitivity to everything, the black covering his eyes, and moments during patrol when his reactions became simply frightening for someone who had as much strength as he did. But you were supposed to have stopped it. 

“Is it the inhibitor?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest, “is it failing?” 

“I–I don’t know…I was hit with some dust out there,” he breathed. “I think it’s tampering with it…my head is killing me. Everything is too much.”

You nodded, turning toward the workstation. 

“I will check the programming. Just hold on.” Not your best attempt at reassuring him, but he groaned in acknowledgment. 

“EV?” 

The computer woke when you touched the keyboard, illuminating the dark attic in a wash of blue light. 

“Online.”

“Please run a diagnostic on the inhibitor and any possible interference.” 

“Beginning diagnostic.” 

You waited impatiently for the results, tapping your fingers on the desk while you watched him from the corner of your eye. 

Over there, he…he was doing his best trying to breathe. 

This obviously wasn't his first time having sensory overload. When the animal tried to take over the human part of him, everything in the city became impossible to escape. Not a single movement, or sound, or simple existence within miles was unnoticed by him. 

But this time? The rest of the city had disappeared. There were no sirens in the distance, or voices coming through the walls, or every heartbeat in the building pounding in his head. 

There was only you. 

Your rapid heartbeat echoing inside him. He felt every tap of your fingers against the wood, every slight catch in your breathing each time he made another involuntary and pathetic sound from his spot on the floor. 

Your scent…God, your scent filled the entire apartment. 

The scent he found himself coming back to so often that it scared him. He didn’t want the attachment. The possibility of having someone again only to risk losing them again. 

That same scent was making every muscle in his body react in a way he didn’t understand. It made him, and the other him, wanna do things to you he had only dreamed of in his wildest fantasies. Things he wasn’t proud of, things he wouldn’t dare to say out loud, even if he looked at you through the lenses of his mask and you couldn’t see the black in his eyes. 

He pressed the back of his head against the couch harshly. 

This was wrong. So wrong. 

His senses were supposed to consume everything when the change came. Instead, they had fixed themselves entirely on you.

He could feel the heat of your body from across the room as though you were still in front of him. Could remember with sickening detail how soft your hands looked when they reached for him. Could almost feel the burn of the touch that had never landed because he stopped you. 

What if he’d let you? What if he’d felt the way your hands ran all over his body? What if you’d moved them lower, and lower, as your mouth–

“Diagnostic complete.” 

Your heads snapped toward the screen. 

“There’s no external damage affecting the integrity of the device. I detected a foreign biotoxin in the bloodstream that may be bypassing the inhibitor, activating the suppressed arachnid hormones.” 

“What biotoxin?” You frowned. 

“Unknown. No matches found in available databases.” 

Great. He thought. He had no time to take a bath with Yelena Belova to find out what the stupid dust was. 

Tiny, microscopic potato, she would say.

The screen changed, displaying a model of his nervous system. There were yellow bright lines pulsing quickly, running all the way from the base of his brain down the length of his spine. Something unknown was moving through his blood, altering the part of him he had spent months forcing into submission.

He sucked in a breath as he watched you read the screen. Your eyes were focused, and a bead of sweat made its way down the side of your forehead. 

He suddenly felt the need to lick it off. 

Wanted to run his tongue from the base of your neck to the back of your ear. Wanted to fist your hair and make your heart beat out of your chest from how good he knew he could make you feel–

“The effects remain within his enhanced tolerance. However, prolonged exposure to certain hormones can cause extreme distress without relief.” 

“What hormones?” Your voice, worried and unknowing of his thoughts only made him feel guiltier. 

It took him a second to realize what you asked, but EV threw him under the bus before he could say anything. 

“There’s a significant rise in reproductive hormones. The unknown toxin is inducing a strong mating response in him.”

Mating response. He stopped breathing. 

Your eyes slowly moved from the monitor to him, and he saw the moment your attention dropped lower to the tent of his pants. 

That suit concealed nothing on a good day. On one like this? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck–

He shifted almost immediately, but the movement only worsened the pressure, pulling a helpless groan from his throat that made your pulse jump. You looked away at once, turning back to the computer. 

“Is there a way we can…umm…stop it?” You asked hesitantly. 

“The subject is experiencing severe sexual arousal with a fixation on a nearby individual,” she explained, because fuck him if he wasn’t the unluckiest individual on earth. “Acting upon it can be a positive option to relieve sexual tension.”

He wished the floor would open beneath him, swallow him, and never ever EVER spit him back out again.  

Your pulse was absolutely hammering after that. He caught the sudden change in your scent. There was a sharp spark of surprise, nervousness, and something else beneath it that his altered senses fed on immediately.

You kept your eyes fixed on the monitor, although the data had stopped meaning anything the moment you heard fixation on a nearby individual. 

“Is that what you really feel?” You asked softly after a moment. 

His head fell forward, catching it between his gloved hands. He didn’t know how to answer without making everything worse.

Although, after what EV said, could it really be worse? 

“…Yes.” The word came out rougher than he expected. Yet still not enough for what was happening inside him. “It’s like…I can only feel you. All of you.”

Heat rose to your face once again. 

“What does that mean?” 

Don’t say anything, don’t–

“I can smell you.” Great start, idiot. He cleared his dry throat before continuing. “I can smell your shampoo…the lotion you use…the ink on your hands from your favorite pen.” 

He chose not to mention he could also smell the adrenaline on you. The heat gathering slowly beneath your skin. 

Your eyes dropped to your hands, and under the dim light of the computer, you caught the ink stains in them from your journaling session before bed. 

“I can hear your heartbeat changing every time I speak,” he added. Okay, that one slipped out.  

You swallowed. And god, he felt that in his own throat. 

The suit was suffocating him at this point. He wanted to rip it off as much as he wanted to rip off the fabric covering the goosebumps on your skin. 

“Is it only because I’m nearby?” You asked, gathering the courage to turn your chair to him.

White lenses met you across the room. He dragged in another shaky breath of oxygen made of you as he thought about his next words. He could’ve lied. He should’ve lied. But instead, chemically overwhelmed and stripped of every defense he possessed, he gave you the truth. 

“No.”

His voice was firmer this time. No hesitation in it despite the thousand red alarms pounding in his head telling him to shut up. 

“It picked you–no, I picked you for a reason,” he added. “And it’s not just me. The other…the other me wants you too.” 

His voice went lower on the last part, that told you how much it cost him to admit that. 

The silence following his confession was heavy. For a moment he wished he could read your mind. For all he could feel of you, your thoughts were unreachable. 

His own mind was a mess. The impulses didn’t feel like thoughts anymore, just his body feeding him instructions. 

Get up. Cross the room. Touch her. Breathe her in.

His palms shook with the urge to close around you. His teeth ached with the need to graze your skin. His eyes burned with the desire to see beyond fabric. 

Every part of him seemed convinced that the small distance between you was a mistake he needed to correct. That he needed to breathe you in until his lungs burned. Drag his mouth along the inside of your wrist and taste the pulse there.

He hated it.

He hated that something inside him could look at the person he cared for the most and reduce her to an answer for his pain. 

“EV, how long is this state going to last?” He asked the computer, followed by a weak cough as he clutched his side. 

“Your enhanced physiology is struggling to break down the toxin’s structure. I estimate a time between ten to twelve hours before it’s metabolized. However, neurological collapse is expected before that timeframe.”

“What?” You looked at him. “There’s no way we’re letting that happen. Maybe I can–”

“Don’t even start,” he cut you off, shaking his head profusely. 

“So what? I’m supposed to sit here betting on whether your body collapses on hour three or hour six?” 

“I’ll just pass out, big deal. I’m not putting you in danger because of this. I can handle it.”

“You’re barely handling it now. There’s no danger in trying–”

“You don’t understand what’s happening inside me right now,” he argued, raising his voice. “This other thing, the one the inhibitor controls it’s…awake. That part of me doesn’t think like I do. It doesn’t care if you're scared, or hurting–”

“You wouldn’t hurt me–”

“You don’t know that!” He snapped, his fist struck the floor next to him, hard enough to make the worn wood crack beneath his knuckles. 

The sudden noise made you flinch. He smelled the flash of fear moving through your body for only a second. 

One second enough. 

“Fuck–that is what I mean,” he cursed, covering his lenses with his hands. “I don’t…I don’t know if I’d be gentle. I can’t risk this, I can't…shit, I can’t risk you.”

The words, said with so much pain, and honesty, seemed to settle somewhere deep in your chest. 

“Okay,” you nodded, settling deeper in your chair. “But I’m not leaving you like this. I can’t risk you either.”

He shuddered a painful exhale. His head dropped to the couch again, shutting his eyes in preparation of what the next hours of torture would be. 

Except…he didn’t even last ten minutes. 

The suit was killing him, so he decided he’d be better without it. He reached desperately behind his back, clumsily undoing the zippers that tied the suit together.

He could feel your wide eyes on him as he tugged the fabric off his shoulders, peeling it off his sweaty arms. He groaned when he lifted his hips and the suit grazed his swollen crotch. In a matter of seconds that felt like eternity he managed to break free from the spandex, and threw it away somewhere in the room. He’d undressed down to his dark boxers, mask still in place, revealing the marble sculpture of his body.

You let out a shaky breath from your spot, eyes raking over a body you’d only seen partially. He was covered in wounds most of the time, but this time, he only had faint bruises from the night before decorating his chiseled abs. 

His tight muscles flexed with every rise of his chest, his bulge straining harder the more you devoured him, pressing against his pants, making him curse quietly. 

You noticed, and returned your eyes to the screen to track his vitals. 

He felt grateful that you’d given him that grace, but just you being in that room made it very hard for him to think of anything other than your existence. 

Too hard. 

Before he knew his hand drifted down the growing ache in his crotch, trying to feel some relief, but every rub he made over the fabric of his boxers sent a jolt of pain through his body instead of pleasure. 

It only made it worse when he realized you were tense at the desk, trying very hard to keep your focus on the screen and not on the whines he was letting out. 

“…I’m sorry,” he apologized instantly, breathlessly, moving his hand away. “I didn’t–”

“Don’t apologize,” you shook your head quickly, eyes still on the screen. “You…you can do whatever you need.” 

He didn’t say anything, just whined in pain again, so you took it as a chance to say it before you regretted it. 

“But my offer still stands, spidey.” 

What a polite way of saying ‘I’d let you fuck me into next week so you can control your horny arachnid hormones, spidey.’

Fucking hell. 

“I’m okay I just–God I didn’t–I didn’t think it would feel this way…” He laughed humorlessly, staring at the ceiling. “But I–I got this. Yes.”

You kept quiet, hearing him mumble to himself about a hundred times about how he had this.

“I’m okay…I’m good…it’s fine…” 

He wasn’t. 

“Fuck I don’t…I’m going to die…”

For God’s sake. 

“I think I can help.”

By the time he registered the words and looked back at you, you had already moved from your chair and shortened the distance between you, kneeling in front of him. 

His senses went from one thousand to one million. He forced his hands behind his back, trying to keep the animal from grabbing you and getting it over with. 

“What–what are you doing?” He stammered nervously, the lenses of his mask going wide. 

“Maynard,” you said quietly, ignoring the way his body tensed up at that name. “Would it make you feel better if I put my hand here?” 

You placed your hand right in the center of his chest, and your cold palm met his overheated skin. He gasped, feeling every individual fingerprint on his skin. He wanted them marked on him. Tattooed. 

His back arched from the couch, with a strangled gasp breaking from beneath the mask. The relief hit him all at once, through a simple contact that felt like salvation. 

Your hand steadied him for only a glorious second, but now that you had touched him, his body knew precisely what it had been denied.

It wanted more.

His own hand closed around yours so suddenly that you almost pulled back, but he loosened his grip the instant he realized how tightly he was holding you. 

“Sorry–”

“Don’t apologize.” You pressed harder. 

He was burning.

The heat beneath your palm scared you, but what scared you more was the violent pounding of his heart beating against your hand so so quickly. 

“Better?” You asked quietly, trying not to bite your bottom lip at the image of him crumbling under your palm. 

“So fucking better,” he said breathlessly, pressing your hand tighter against his chest. “I…dammit–”

“Breathe,” you reminded.

His head fell back against the couch. Chest rising up and down, up and down, up and down. 

Just take her, man, she’s right there–

Your free hand accidentally brushed his neck, right where the border of the mask started, snapping him right back. He grabbed your hand, not harshly, but firm enough to make your breath hitch. 

“Please.” Was all he said. 

Leave it on. 

It brought you back to that first night he’d crashed into your life. 

“I wasn’t planning on removing it,” you whispered, leaning closer. “You can keep it on. But let me help you…I really want to.”

See? She wants it. She needs it so bad. 

He hated that the other guy was right. He knew you meant what you said because he could smell the proof pooling between your thighs.

Fuck it.

In a sudden movement he reached for your waist, dragging you forward so you were straddling his lap. The bulge you landed on made you gasp, hands instinctively grabbing onto his sweaty biceps for balance when he let out a broken groan that vibrated against your core. 

His hand cupped your jaw, bringing it closer to his face, and your dilated pupils reflected on the white of his lenses. 

“I can feel that you want this,” he mumbled, tilting his head to the side. “Please, say it again…”

You shifted your hips, barely, so minimal yet he felt it travel through his whole body. He hissed, tightening the grip on your jaw. 

“I want this,” you repeated firmly, moving your head closer to his ear. “You can take whatever you need…”

You moved your hips again, more deliberate this time, pulling a broken whine from him. The toxin made every contact feel like electricity racing down his spine, straight to the heavy, aching weight of his cock under you. 

“Yes…yeah just like that…” he panted. “Just let me…”

His hands landed on your waist, moving you back and forth at a quicker pace over his bulge. You gasped at the friction, fingers digging into his shoulders, while he let out a collection of muffled words you could barely understand. 

“...M–more…” he whined, throwing his head back against the couch. “I can’t–I need…”

“What do you need? More what?” 

“More contact.”

His hands left your waist to grab the hem of your shirt. 

“Can I?” He whispered.

You nodded eagerly, gasping when his hands shifted to the collar of your shirt instead, ripping it off your body with a sharp pull. 

“Oh fuck,” he cursed when he realized there was nothing under that shirt, and saw your nipples hardening instantly under the cold air. 

He resisted the urge to bite them through the mask. 

His hands, however, wasted no time to cup your breasts with a broken whine. His thumbs played with your nipples, tugging at them as hard as he could allow himself to without hurting you. 

“Fuck you’re perfect…you’re so perfect…” he whispered, more to himself than you, pulling some soft whimpers out of you when he tugged a little harder. His hands drifted to your lower half, to the hem of the last piece keeping your body from his greedy eyes. “These too,” he said, “please, can I? I want to feel you.”

“Yes,” you nodded, already out of air. 

You didn’t even know why you tried to get off his lap to take the shorts off properly, when he just did the same as the shirt: ripped it in half where it rested on your hips, yanked it off from your body and threw the ruined pieces far away. 

You weren’t wearing anything underneath. 

“I can smell you. God, I can smell you. You’re so–oh God…”

Now he could feel your wetness drenching his boxers, dripping onto the fabric. He could almost taste it in his mouth. He wanted nothing more than to drown in it for hours. 

“Can–can I–?”

You didn’t even let him finish, you grabbed his hand and placed it right between your legs. 

Water. He found water in the middle of the dessert. 

His hand moved carefully through your wet folds once, twice, delighting in your warmth, the way you felt, the way you let out the prettiest sound he had ever heard in his miserable life. 

“Fuck…” you cursed softly, moving your hips eagerly when he kept stroking slow. Too slow. “Touch me, please.”

He obliged, fingers finding your clit in movements that had you gripping his shoulders tighter, eyes fluttering shut so beautifully he had to bite his lip to not let out a pathetic sound. 

“Been wanting this,” he mumbled. “Longer than today. Longer than tonight.”

His finger slid inside of you, making you moan when he curled it just right. 

“There were…there were nights I thought about you riding my hand,” he kept going, voice cracking as he added a second finger, stretching you more. “I’ve wanted you for so long–not just because of this shit in my blood. Because it’s you.”

Every word made you clench around his fingers. Every admission pulled another shaky moan out of your throat. You were a mess already, breathless, hips rolling down to meet the thrust of his fingers. 

“Oh my God–don’t stop, please don’t stop–”

“Not stopping, baby.” 

He kept working you open, the white lenses of the mask never leaving your face. His free hand slid up your chest, settling between your breasts. 

“I’m–I’m close,” you managed. “I’m so close–”

“Come on…you’re perfect. You’re so fucking perfect like this.”

The heel of his palm lifted to press against your clit. You were right there, right on the edge, about to come on his hand and drip down his boxers–

“Please,” he begged, unable to keep it in. “Let me fuck you after this…please. I need to be inside you. I’ve needed it for so long–just let me, after you come, please, please–”

The plea undid you.

You came with a broken cry, stopping your movements as your walls pulsed around him. The sound you made against his shoulder nearly finished him right there. 

It took you a second to just breathe again, your chest synching up with his in the search of oxygen. He kept rocking his hand slowly, not just to work you through the aftershocks, but because the friction of your pussy in his hand brought the tiniest relief to him. 

You just stayed there as the last soft waves rolled through you. 

Once you were able to see clearly again, you let out a breathless chuckle and straightened back up. 

He needed you. He needed you so badly you really thought he was going to die if you didn’t help him. 

You placed one hand on his chest as the other reached under you, slipping inside the fabric of his boxers without breaking eye contact. 

The second your bare fingers brushed him, his hips jerked hard under you. 

“You said please,” you whispered breathlessly. 

You wrapped your fingers around him and pulled him free.

His cock sprang out, heavy and flushed between your bodies, so thick and hard and painful. The head was red and shiny, with precum dripping down the vein that ran along his length. The tip brushed the skin of your stomach, leaving a warm, wet patch that made the hair on your arms go up. He could smell the small flicker of intimidation sparking inside you, but the want that followed was stronger. 

You stroked him a few times, slowly just as he’d touched you at first. 

“Oh my God, your hand–your hand–”

Another thick bead of precum welled up and spilled over your fingers. Whether it was the toxin or just his enhanced physiology, he was dripping for you.  

Flustered wasn’t enough of a word when you had his leaking cock in your hand. 

His hands slid down to your hips, gripping tighter, guiding you up as if he was about to lift you then pulling you back down immediately. 

Fuck her. Fuck her right now. 

“Please, I need–I need to feel you…” he cried out. “Let me…let me…”

You nodded just as desperately, lifting yourself up as he helped, steadying you with shaking hands until the thick head of his cock nudged against your entrance. You both exhaled hard at the same time when you started to sink down, taking him inch by inch.

He was big. Almost too much. The burn of it made your breath hitch, but the way he cursed under his breath multiple times, completely at your mercy, made you keep going until he was buried balls deep.

You sat there for a moment, breathing heavily, and so full of him. 

When the initial sting faded away, you started moving. He let you set the pace as you adjusted, holding back his need of thrusting up. His fingers dug on your skin, not lifting just holding you, but the more that you moved, the more that control started to waver. 

He could feel it coming. The change. 

You kept moaning, bouncing on top of him, completely unaware of his self restraint crumbling away. 

His grip slowly tightened when his eyes began turning completely black under his mask. That careful, pathetic boy who’d been begging disappeared beneath something more…primal. 

Fuck. Whatever had been holding him back finally snapped.

The next thing he knew, his hands slid under your thighs with sudden strength. He lifted you up in one motion until only the thick head of him remained inside you, held you there for a second as the last part of him tried to remember how to be gentle–then snapped his hips up hard.

That first thrust pulled a sharp moan out of you, but there was no chance to adjust this time. He set a relentless pace almost immediately, using pure strength to bounce you on his cock while he drove up to meet every drop of your body, buried so deep it stole your breath every time he bottomed out. 

“Oh my–May…Maynard–” the name you barely used on him slipped out in the middle of the frenzy, but his hand reached behind your head to pull your hair back slightly as he kept thrusting up. 

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped, his voice so different from just minutes earlier. “It’s Peter. Call me Peter when I’m inside you.” 

He didn’t even give you time to process, still lifting and dropping you onto his cock at the exact hard rhythm he wanted. The only one that satisfied the need inside of him. Your hands instinctively reached for the edge of the arm of the couch he was leaning against, fingers digging into the worn fabric as he hit that spot inside you over and over again. 

“Of fuck…Peter–fuck…yes…”

“That’s better,” he approved. “I was right, you’re so so perfect…taking every inch like you need it as bad as I do…”

A desperate sound slipped out of you at the praise, he could feel your walls clenching tight around him as your body went for that second orgasm, your eyes were fluttering shut, almost there–

“Nuh–uh,” he denied immediately, stopping mid thrust, holding you pressed against him as you gasped, surprised and confused. 

“What–what happened? I was about to–”

“I want you to hold it for me. I know you can.”

That twisted part of him enjoyed the slow realization on your face. 

Even if you couldn’t see his eyes, you knew the same spiderman he’d been without the inhibitor, was the one with your body at his mercy now. 

Good. 

He stayed buried to the hilt for a moment, breathing hard behind the mask. When your breathing finally slowed down and accepted that the high never came, he stood up. Still inside you, he walked you to the bed in the corner of the room. 

His bed.

He pulled out with a wet sound that made both of you groan, then laid you down roughly near the edge of the mattress. He kneeled down, strong hands hooking behind your knees and dragging your legs over his shoulders, folding you open for him completely.

“Look at the ceiling,” he ordered. “Don’t look at me.”

You obeyed, staring up at the wood beams high above you while he tugged the bottom of the mask just high enough to free his mouth. 

Peter leaned down and pressed a few soft kisses to your swollen folds. He wasn’t necessarily eating you out, just giving a few loud smooches that felt good enough to make you grip the sheets. 

“M’sorry, you were so perfect there…” he mumbled condescendingly against your most sensitive spots. “But I need you to hold on a little longer. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” 

You nodded, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. Maybe too eager. Maybe too pathetic. Just like he’d been. Had he pumped that toxin into you? 

Either way, you didn’t care. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t like this version of him. 

He laughed right over your clit when you moaned loudly, after he moved his tongue in a slow, torturous swipe over it. 

“Was back there too much?” He cooed. “Maybe I just need to stretch you more...”

Two fingers slid inside you, so easily, but the sudden stretch still dragged a whine out of your throat. He curled them immediately, finding the spot that made your hips jerk. 

“Peter…” 

“Huh?” He acted coy, pumping his fingers with a rhythm that kept you right on the edge without letting you tip over. He added a third finger, making your back arch from the mattress. “Keep holding it in.”

Every shake of your body fed the stupid toxin inside him. Having you like this…really trying to keep your body from coming apart because he said so. 

God. He was never going back. 

“You just took my cock. I think you can take three fingers with no problem.” 

He kept the same relentless pace, chuckling when your body started twitching again. 

“Shhh, you’re perfect, absolutely perfect…”

“Peter…” you called out again, hand dropping the sheet to find his shoulder instead. “I need…need…”

“Need what?”

“Need you inside me…please I won’t–I won’t hold for much longer just–fuck me.”

He stopped altogether, a smirk you couldn’t see stretching the corner of his mouth. He pulled his fingers out with a wet pop, licking them clean before tugging his mask back in place and standing up. 

“Yeah?” 

Your legs dangled off the edge of the bed for a moment before his hands gripped your hips and turned you over. He moved you higher up the bed, grabbing one of the pillows, and shoving it under your hips, tilting your lower body up for him. 

He then climbed onto the bed behind you and knelt between your spread thighs, the mattress dipping under his weight as one hand stroked down the length of your spine. 

But something made him stop. 

“This fucking mask–” he cursed under his breath. “It’s suffocating me.”

The sweat on his forehead had pooled under the mask, making it so sticky over his eyebrows that it was affecting the lenses he was trying to see you through. 

“I need you to be a good girl for me,” he added breathlessly, yet still commanding enough. “Keep your head on the mattress. Ass up. Don’t turn around.”

You nodded. Too eagerly again. Couldn’t care any less again. 

He didn’t think twice, just yanked the mask off and tossed it aside. It landed near you, making you bury half your face on the sheets as if staring at the mask alone would be disobeying his commands. 

The sound he made when the cool air hit his face was pure relief. He swiped the sweat off with his forearm, finally seeing you clearly. Face down. Eyes squeezed shut. Already clutching the sheets. 

“You look so pretty like this,” he mumbled. “All spread out for me…waiting.”

“Peter…” you whined, lifting your ass slightly from the pillow. 

“I know, I know. You’re okay.” He couldn’t keep the smirk away when he added, “you said please.”

He reached between you, guiding the thick head of his cock between your thighs until it nudged against your entrance. You were still soft and ready and perfect. 

Peter pushed in slowly, letting you feel every inch as he sank deep and deep and deeper. 

He braced one hand beside your head and kept the other on your hip, pushing you into the mattress as his thighs hit the back of yours. Slap. Slap. Slap. The position left almost no space between your bodies, with Peter pressing his chest against your back. 

“Fuck…you feel so good like this…so pretty taking me.”

He kept going, making the mattress creak and the base of the bed hit the brick wall repeatedly. Your desperate moans ran through his body like electricity, making something inside him crack open again. 

What? What is–

The moment his rhythm stuttered, he shook his head, trying to clear it. Beads of sweat flew from his hair to your back. 

“God–you…you’re making me–” The roughness of his thrusts slowed down immediately, inhaling a sharp intake of air as he felt the change again. “I can’t, I can’t…”

He lifted his gaze to the window behind the bed and noticed his eyes had turned back to its original color. 

“Oh my god,” he gasped, stopping altogether. He straightened up, still kneeling and inside you, but panicking. “I’m…I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened I–“

“Peter!” You cut him off, pushing yourself back, closer to him, without turning around. “Shut up and fuck me.”

The order left your mouth breathless, pushing back against him even more to make the point clear. His hands twitched when they gripped your hips again. 

“Okay, okay…” he panted, groaning when you dropped back on the bed and his cock almost left the warmth of your pussy. “I’m sorry–if I was too rough, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

He picked up the pace again, but the words tumbling out of him now were pure pleading Peter again. 

“Don’t turn around–don’t turn around–fuck, fuck…” slap, slap, slap. “You can come now. Please. Please, I want to feel it–you’d come apart so pretty on me, I know you would…pleasepleaseplease–”

His final permission and the desperate way he said it made you crash harder than the first time, crying out into the mattress. The second he felt you coming around him, he knew he couldn’t last much longer either.

“Can I–inside…please, can I??…let me fill you up–”

“Yes–inside, Peter, do it inside me…” 

He buried himself to the hilt with a strained groan and finally came. The orgasm tearing out of him was harder and longer than anything he’d ever felt, holding you there, filling you up. 

You gasped against the sheets, breathless, as the waves of cum seemed to go on forever, flooding you with warm and thick ropes in every spurt as he emptied himself inside you. 

“Thank you…thank you…” His forehead dropped between your shoulder blades, sending broken gasps against your skin as he kept coming. “You are so perfect–fuck…so perfect…thank you…”

The pollen wrung him dry until he could barely breathe, and even then he kept rolling his hips weakly, chasing the last of it while he slowly softened inside you. 

When it finally eased, the pain, the need, the hunger…he pulled out slowly with a whine, and half collapsed over you. His arms held most of his weight as he planked above you, but you could feel every ridge of his muscles brushing your sweaty skin. 

Peter’s eyes fluttered shut, feeling exhausted and aching in the best way, almost lulled by the sounds of your agitated breaths. 

You both felt the warm trail of liquid leaking out between your bodies and neither of you moved or said anything for a while. He could’ve stayed like that forever, really. With your naked body under him, no masks, no barriers, just your swollen pussy leaking out his seed–

“Successful ejaculation brought down the arachnid hormone levels immediately. Inhibitor working within regular parameters now. Congratulations, Peter.” 

EV’s monotone voice cut through the silence. 

It took two seconds of shock before you both broke into breathless laughter. His teeth grazed your back as your bodies vibrated in sync from the amusement and overall flustering after everything that happened. 

“Thank you, EV,” Peter muttered. 

“You’re welcome. I gathered data and the released semen volume exceeds standard parameters by two hundred and twenty six percent due to the high hormonal concentration. Hydration, clean up and rest are advised.”

“For fucks sake…” Peter cursed under his breath. 

“Oh god…” you mumbled against the sheets. 

That was your call back to reality. 

Peter felt you move under him, reaching blindly to the side until your hand found the mask. You lifted it over your shoulder, offering it to him without looking. 

“I don’t want to,” he said, too quickly, then cleared his throat. “I…I don’t want to put it back on.” 

“Then I’ll close my eyes,” you offered instead. 

“No–I mean…you don’t have to. I don’t want to wear it around you anymore. Not after…all of this,” he admitted sheepishly. 

“But you told me to not turn around,” you reminded him, dropping the mask on the mattress again. “And that was you, not the darker you.”

He chuckled, nodding even if you couldn’t see him yet. 

“Yeah, because if I saw your face while I was balls deep inside you I would’ve busted before you came.”

There it was. He said it. No turning back now. 

At least it got a chuckle from you too. 

“Listen I…I meant everything I said. Everything. The wanting, the nights I thought about you,” he confessed. “I don’t want you to feel like I just used you when…when there was always a reason why I needed you like oxygen tonight.”

Your breath hitched, and his hand found your waist, pulling you closer to him, and when you didn’t push away…he exhaled in relief behind you. 

“So maybe…you can turn around now. If–if you want to. Know the real me.”

“I would really like that,” you whispered without hesitation. 

You tried lifting yourself up to turn around, but he did most of the job, moving away the pillow he had placed under you and helping you roll onto your back. You closed your eyes, at least until you were facing him completely, and took a deep breath. Holding onto his biceps for moral support, you finally opened them again. 

Seeing his face for the first time felt so intimate, even after everything you just did. 

There he was. The same guy who just fucked you into next week, looking more shy and boyish than you could’ve ever imagined. 

Brown eyes. Dark, curly hair sticking to his forehead. A nervous smile tugging at the corner of his gorgeous mouth. 

So young. So earnest. So yours. 

Not spidey anymore. Just Peter. 

Your Peter. 

Thank you so much for reading 🤍 I used to write Peter so much back in the day (shoutout to my starktonyx era) and I’ve missed him dearly.

Feedback is always appreciated 🕷️

Divider by @andromeda-graphics

Tags: @johnnyfuckingsexystorm @harryplzruinme @jellyfishjpeg @tatumrileyslover @kg0626

[strangegirl26sff]

[pr33tygirlavenue]

Chapter One: Sweet Beginnings

This chapter is apart of the Steve Harrington summer sleepover event by @moonstoneandmoonlight & @graywrenhart

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter | ao3

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Hopper!Reader

Summary: Driving back to your old home town sends you on trip down memory lane, specifically thinking about a young boy who calls you bee…

Contains: childhood friends to lovers, angst/fluff, mentions of cancer and loss of a family member.

WC: 11.9k

Authors Note: so I know this is long, hence why this fic is split into four parts. Anyways I have worked really hard on this so I appreciate any or little support you give me! I also want to do some baby!stevie and bee blurbs so if you have any ideas send them my way!! Also thank you to Jenn for listening to me ramble about this fic and giving this a read, truly my light and saviour 🫶🏻 @xpeachsunsidex

26th of May 1989

Fourteen hours…

That’s how long you’ve been on the road so far, making the drive back to your hometown.

It’s not as if you never imagined returning to Hawkins one day, but it’s also something you never expected to do so soon.

Because even though so much has changed over the last four years, you still can’t forget the pain the town once left behind.

Then your dad calls and he tells you the kids are graduating from Hawkins High. The same kids who once dragged you into searching the woods for Will Byers. The same kids who somehow convinced you to help hide a mysterious girl with a shaved head and superpowers.

Now, they’re graduating, ready to begin the next chapter of their lives.

And somehow…

You’re driving across five states just to watch them do it.Your fingers tighten around the steering wheel.

The guilt you feel emerges when you realise you’re only five miles away from entering Hawkins. But you also can’t get rid of the guilt that has been plaguing your mind since you started the long drive from New York.

With a quiet sigh, you reach over and turn the radio down until the familiar voice of the presenter fades into nothing but static.

Which it is easier that way,

The further you drive, the more familiar everything begins to look.

The busy highways are long gone, replaced by narrow country roads lined with sprawling fields that seem to stretch on forever. Old wooden fences border the roadside, while weathered farmhouses sit proudly amongst the trees, looking almost untouched by time.

For a moment, it’s almost as if you never left.

Your grip tightens around the steering wheel as the familiar metal ‘Welcome to Hawkins’ sign comes into view.

This is it, there isn’t another exit to take.There isn’t another excuse to turn the car around. Within seconds, the tires roll beneath the sign, and just like that… You’re back.

The town looks almost exactly as you remember. Fresh paint covers buildings that once stood cracked after the earthquake. Shop windows have been replaced. Roads resurfaced. But beneath it all, Hawkins still feels unmistakably like Hawkins.

As though the last four years never happened.

Your eyes drift to the streets that look eerily similar to what they once were, but nostalgia still hits you. Especially when you drive slowly past the familiar places. Such as family video along with the palace arcade that just sits next door. Even with the memories consuming you of a certain person; who at one point, was your everything.

It is only when you make the familiar turn towards the street of your old house, where you used to live when you were little.

For a moment, your foot instinctively eases off the accelerator. That’s when you see it, the old oak tree. It’s no longer hidden by loads of trees in the forest.

It shouldn’t still be there; some irrational part of you had spent the last four years convincing yourself that time would have changed it somehow. That the earthquake a couple of years ago, might have swallowed it whole or that someone would have cut it down. Instead, it stands exactly where it’s always stood. Proud and unmoving as if life had carried on around it.

The thick branches stretch high above the road, casting scattered shadows across the cracked asphalt below. The trunk is wider than you remember, but the long scar running through the bark remains impossible to miss.

Your chest tightens, a flash of white, the deafening crack of thunder and a small hand reaching out for yours. The memories arrive without warning, surfacing so quickly they leave you struggling to catch your breath.

You blink once and then again for good measure. Before forcing your gaze back onto the road ahead.

Not today, You don’t let yourself think about that particular afternoon. You don’t let yourself think about the promises made beneath that tree. You don’t let yourself think about the life you once imagined.

The gravel crunches beneath your tyres as you continue along the narrow dirt track leading towards the cabin.

Trees crowd either side of the road, their leaves swaying gently in the late afternoon breeze. You know every bend without needing to think, your hands guiding the car almost on instinct.

It isn’t long before the familiar clearing comes into view. The cabin, that looks now well lived in like it used to when you lived there and before you thought your dad had died and before the mind flayer tried to kill your sister.

It was home, now not so much… You swallow the lump forming in your throat as your foot hovers over the brake.

After four years away, you’re scared to be back in a place that once consumed you with so much pain.

But you’re not here for you; you’re here for them…

15th of June 1971

Steve is having a hard day.

At only five years old, his mom has decided that if he wants to play outside, then he has to stay outside. No more running in and out of the house every five minutes with muddy trainers or sticky fingers.

Steve thinks this is the most unfair rule ever.

Armed with nothing but a stick and far too much boredom, he pokes at the dirt beside the driveway with an exaggerated sigh.

Then he hears a giggle.

His head turns towards his mom’s flower bed.

A little girl is crouched amongst the pink roses, her bright yellow dress almost glowing in the afternoon sunshine. One tiny finger is stretched perfectly still while a big, fluffy bumblebee crawls lazily across it.

Steve’s eyes widen. “Hey!”

The little girl jumps, the bee buzzing away as she looks over at him with wide eyes.

“You shouldn’t sit in there.”

“…Why?”

“‘Cause they’re my mom’s roses.”

She quickly looks down beneath her, suddenly realising where she’s sitting. “Oh.”

“If you squash them, she’ll be really cross.”

The little girl scrambles backwards onto the grass, brushing bits of dirt from her dress. “I didn’t mean to.”

Steve shrugs. “It’s okay.”

For a second, neither of them says anything. Then Steve wanders a little closer. “I’ve never seen you before.”

The little girl nods. “I’ve seen you.”

Steve blinks. “You have?”

She points across the road. “I live over there.”

Steve follows her finger before looking back at her. “Oh.”

“My daddy says we’re neighbours.”

Steve grins. “I’m Steve.”

She smiles shyly before telling him her name. Steve repeats it quietly, making sure he gets it right. “That’s a nice name.”

She smiles a little wider. “My mommy picked it.”

Steve nods. “My mom picked mine too.”

The little girl giggles as though that’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “You’ve got mud on your knee.”

Steve quickly looks down. “I know.”

“I’ve got grass on mine.” She holds up her knee proudly.

Steve nods. “…Cool.”

Another comfortable silence settles between them.Then the little girl says, almost out of nowhere, “I’m a big sister.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. “You are?”

She nods enthusiastically. “My baby sister’s called Sarah.”

“Can she play?”

She shakes her head. “No. She’s little.”

“How little?”

She holds her hands a short distance apart. “This little.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “So… she’s boring?”

“No!” she says quickly. “She smiles at me.”

“Oh.” Steve decides maybe babies aren’t completely boring.

“My daddy says I have to be gentle with her.”

“My daddy says I have to stop climbing trees.”

She tilts her head. “Why?”

“’Cause I fell out of one.”

“Did it hurt?”

Steve nods. “…A lot.”

She thinks about that for a second. “My daddy’s a policeman.”

Steve’s eyes grow wide. “Really?”

She nods proudly. “He catches bad people.”

“That’s so cool.”

“What does your daddy do?”

Steve’s smile fades just a little. “He works.”

“Doing what?”

Steve shrugs. “I dunno.”

“Oh.”

The conversation drifts into another quiet silence; a familiar buzz catches both of their attention. The same bumblebee lazily circles back before settling on one of the pink roses.

The little girl smiles. “I think he came back.”

Steve looks at the bee, then at her bright yellow dress and back at the bee again. “They really like you.”

She smiles. “I like them too.”

Steve grins. “I think I’ve got a better name for you.”

“You do?”

He nods confidently. “Bee.”

She blinks. “Bee?”

“‘Cause you like bees… and you’re wearing yellow.”

She looks down at her dress before looking back at the flower. “I do look a little bit like one.”

Steve smiles. “So…” He sticks his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Can I call you Bee?”

She thinks about it very carefully. Then she nods. “…Only if we’re friends.”

Steve’s grin grows even wider. “I was gonna ask that next.” He holds out his hand. “Friends?”

The little girl places her tiny hand into his without a second thought. “Friends.”

Neither of them notices the bumblebee lifting from the rose, lazily disappearing into the warm summer sky…

29th of March 1972

“Can you tell me where we’re going, Stevie?” you ask as you hurry to keep up with him, your little boots squelching through the damp woodland floor.

Steve keeps hold of your hand, glancing over his shoulder with a grin that tells you he knows something you don’t. “Trust me,” he says excitedly. “You’re gonna love it.”

“You’ve already said that.”

“I know.”

“So tell me.”

“Nope.”

You let out an exaggerated huff. “That’s not fair.”

“It is.”

“No, it isn’t.”

Steve laughs, the sound echoing through the trees. “You ask too many questions.”

“My daddy says asking questions is how you learn.”

“Well…” Steve thinks for a second. “You’re gonna learn when we get there.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “You’re such a pest.”

Steve can’t help but let out a small smile. “My mommy says that too.” He huffs.

You can’t help giggling.

As you continue walking, your attention drifts away from the path. A tiny yellow butterfly flutters between the trees, dancing just out of reach.

“Stevie!” You let go of his hand and point excitedly. “Look!”

Steve turns just in time to see it disappear behind a bush.

“What was it?”

“A butterfly!” The butterfly is now very clearly out of sight from both of you. You pout dramatically. “It flew away.”

Steve shrugs. “We’ll find another one.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

Satisfied, you slip your hand back into his.

The woods are quiet except for birds singing overhead and the gentle rustling of branches swaying in the breeze. Every now and then, the muddy ground squelches beneath your boots, making you giggle.

After another minute, Steve suddenly stops.

You walk straight into his back. “Oof.”

“Sorry,” he says, although he’s already forgotten about it.

He points upwards. “Look.”

Your eyes follow his finger. The biggest tree you’ve ever seen stretches high into the cloudy spring sky.

Its thick trunk is so wide you don’t think your arms could ever reach around it, and its branches spread in every direction like giant arms.

Your mouth falls open. “It’s huge.”

“I know.” Steve sounds unbelievably proud, as though he planted it himself. “It’s my favourite tree.”

You slowly walk towards it. “Can I touch it?”

“Course you can.”

You press your tiny hand against the rough bark. It feels cold beneath your fingertips. “It’s scratchy.”

Steve nods. “I climb it all the time.”

Your eyes grow even wider. “You do?”

“Mhm.” Steve nods, a mischievous smile appearing on his face.

“My daddy says climbing trees is dangerous.”

“My daddy says I’m not supposed to either.”

You look at him. “So… why do you?”

Steve grins. “Because it’s fun.”

You consider that for a moment. “…Can you teach me?”

His smile somehow grows even bigger. “Really?”

You nod eagerly. “I wanna see what you see.”

Steve beams. “Okay.”

He walks over to the lowest branch and pats it confidently. “You put your foot here.”

You copy him.

“Then you hold on really tight.”

You do exactly as he says.

“I’ve got you,” Steve promises, standing close enough to catch you if you slip.

It takes a few tries and lots of giggling; eventually the two of you manage to climb onto the lowest sturdy branch together.

Your legs dangle over the edge as you look out across the woods.

Everything looks different from up here.

“You can see forever,” you whisper.

Steve smiles. “I told you you’d love it.”

“You were right.”

“I know.” Steve says proudly.

You nudge his shoulder. “Don’t get too big-headed.”

Steve laughs. “You sound like my mommy.”

A cool breeze brushes across your cheeks.

High above, the clouds begin to gather, turning from soft white to a darker grey; Neither of you notices.

The wind begins to pick up around you, rustling the bare branches above your heads. You tilt your face towards the sky.

The fluffy white clouds that had followed you through the woods are slowly disappearing, replaced by dark grey ones that seem to swallow the afternoon sunshine.

“Stevie?”

“Hm?”

“I think it’s gonna rain.”

Steve looks up for himself. “…Probably.”

Before either of you can say anything else…CRACK!

The sky splits open, and a blinding flash of white streaks across the clouds, followed almost instantly by a deafening clap of thunder.

The whole tree shudders beneath you.

Another crack echoes through the woods as a bolt of lightning tears through one of the thick branches above your heads, sending splinters of bark tumbling to the ground below.

You don’t even think. You scramble across the branch and throw yourself straight into Steve. “Stevie!”

Your arms wrap tightly around him as you bury your face against his shoulder. “I don’t like it.”

Steve freezes for a second. Truthfully… He doesn’t like it either. His heart is beating so fast he can feel it in his chest.

The thunder was really loud.

But you're clinging to him as if your life depends on it. Which means you must be even more scared than he is. Without thinking, he wraps both of his little arms around you. “It’s okay.”

You shake your head. “It was loud.”

“I know.”

“It hit the tree.”

“I know.”

“What if it hits us?”

Steve frowns. He looks up at the broken branch again, thinking as hard as a six-year-old possibly can.

Then his face suddenly lights up. “Oh!”

You peek up at him. “What?”

Steve’s eyes brighten. “Linda told me something.”

You frown, still clutching the front of his little jacket. “What?”

“She said…” He pauses, trying very hard to remember the exact words. His tongue pokes out between his lips in concentration. “She said lightning never strikes the same place twice.”

You blink. “It doesn’t?”

Steve shakes his head confidently. “Nuh-uh.”

“But…” You glance nervously towards the broken branch. “It already did.”

“Exactly!” He points excitedly towards the black mark running down the wood. “So it can’t do it again.”

You look from the branch, then back to Steve. “You promise?”

He nods so hard his brown hair flops into his eyes. “Promise.”

“Really promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

He presses his tiny hand against his chest for good measure. “Linda said it, and she’s always right.”

You think about that, Linda is nice. She lets the two of you have popsicles after lunch when Steve’s mom says no. She always remembers that you don’t like the crusts on your sandwiches. She even lets you help make chocolate chip cookies, even if Steve eats half the chocolate chips before they make it into the bowl.

If Linda says it, then maybe it’s true. Your shoulders slowly begin to relax. “…Okay.”

Steve smiles when he feels you stop shaking. “See?”

“We’re okay?” You ask shyly.

“We’re okay.” He confirms softly.

You stay tucked against his side anyway, just in case. For a little while, neither of you says anything.

The wind whistles softly through the branches above your heads, carrying the smell of damp earth and fresh rain.

You stare at the long black scar carved into the branch overhead.

“Stevie?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think the tree got scared?”

Steve looks up. “…Maybe.”

“It got hurt.”

“Yeah.”

You frown sadly. “I don’t want the tree to be lonely.”

Steve studies the scar for a long moment before shrugging. “Well…”

“What?”

“Maybe it’ll remember today forever.”

You tilt your head. “You think trees remember stuff?”

“I think so.” Steve shrugs his shoulders.

Another thoughtful silence settles between you.Then Steve says quietly, “Linda says everything happens for a reason.”

You look over at him. “She does?”

“Mhm.” He nods his head.

You glance back at the tree.

“So…Maybe the lightning picked this tree for a reason.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What reason?”

Steve thinks and he really thinks, his eyebrows scrunch together as he tries to work it out.

Then suddenly… “I know.”

“You do?”

He nods once. “I think we’re soulmates.” Steve says as if it’s the most obvious thing ever.

You can’t help but tilt your head looking at him confused, You blink. “…What’s a soulmate?”

Steve frowns, his eyebrows pull together as he searches his memory. “I heard my mommy say it once.”

“You did?”

“Mhm.” Steve hums.

“What’d she say?” You ask.

“I don’t remember.” He huffs, frustrated with himself. “But I asked Linda.”

Your eyes widen with curiosity, “and?”

Steve brightens. “She said…” Another pause. “She said it’s somebody you’re supposed to be with forever.”

You think very hard about that. “Forever’s a really long time.”

“It is.”

You swing your legs beneath the branch. “So…” You glance at him. “Like my mommy and daddy?”

Steve nods. “Yeah.”

“And your mommy and daddy?”

“Uh-huh.”

You smile. “I like forever.”

“So do I.”

A comfortable silence settles between you. The breeze gently stirs the leaves overhead. Then Steve’s eyes suddenly widen, as though he’s just solved the biggest mystery in the world. “If we’re soulmates…”

You look over at him, curiosity running through you.

“That means we can get married.” Steve concludes.

You blink at him, “…We can?”

“Yep.” He nods as if it makes all sense in the word

“Why?”

Steve looks at you as if you’ve asked the silliest question imaginable. “‘Cause then you’ll live with me.”

“Oh.” You gasp.

“And we’ll always play together.”

Your face lights up. “I like playing with you.”

“I know.” He says it with complete certainty.

“And…” He lowers his voice like he’s sharing a huge secret. “Married people get to kiss whenever they want.”

Your eyebrows lift. “They do?”

Steve nods enthusiastically. “My mommy kissed my daddy before he went to work.”

You think about that. “…Why?”

“I dunno.” Steve shrugs his shoulders, “…Maybe they just wanted to.”

You nod your head, agreeing with Steve as your little leg sway from the branch.

Steve scratches behind his ear. “So…”

“So?”

“…Can we try it?” Steve asks shyly.

You tilt your head. “What?”

“A kiss.”

You look thoughtful. “Like grown-ups?”

“Yeah.”

You consider it for a long moment. Then you lean over and press the quickest little kiss against his cheek. “There.”

Steve immediately wrinkles his nose. “That doesn’t count.”

“It doesn’t?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause…” He tries to explain with all the wisdom he can manage. “They kiss on the lips.”

“Oh.” You nod as though this makes perfect sense. “Okay.”

You both lean forward at exactly the same time, Your noses bump.

“Ow!” You both say at the same time, your hands rubbing over your nose as Steve does the same.

You can’t help but immediately dissolve into giggles. Steve also laughs so hard he nearly slips off the branch.

“You missed!” Steve giggles.

“So did you!” You gasp while soft laughs escape with your words.

Still laughing, you try again. This time, your lips meet for less than a heartbeat.

It’s soft and quick. Neither of you really understands why grown-ups make such a big deal about kissing.

You pull back at exactly the same moment. “…That was weird.”

Steve nods. “…A little.”

Then the two of you burst into uncontrollable laughter. Your giggles echo through the woods, when suddenly…

CRACK!

The sky explodes above you…

16th of November 1973

Life is unfair… I mean really unfair.

Your mommy and daddy have given you the worst news ever. Worse than the time you found out you had to go to school every single day. Worse than when you scraped both your knees falling off your bike. Even worse than when Steve accidentally ate the last popsicle after promising to save half for you.

After dinner, they sat you down at the kitchen table and told you that your daddy had got a new job.

Then they told you the whole family was moving to New York.

You don’t really know what moving means.

You just know it means leaving Hawkins.

Leaving your house, your school, your friends, grandma and most importantly you will be leaving Steve.

You’re lying face-down across your bed now, your cheek squashed into your pillow while tears soak into the fabric beneath you.

A soft knock sounds against your bedroom door.

It opens before you can answer.

Your daddy stands in the doorway, one hand resting against the frame. He’s changed out of his sheriff’s uniform and into an old flannel shirt and faded jeans, but he still looks tired.

His eyes immediately find the little lump curled up on the bed.

“…Princess?”

You don’t answer, You’re too busy being sad.

He lets out a quiet sigh before walking over.

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he sits beside you. “You gonna look at your old man?”

Very slowly, you lift your head. Your cheeks are blotchy, your nose pink from crying so hard.

Your daddy studies you for a second before letting out a quiet sigh. “…Hell of a lotta tears.”

“I don’t wanna go.” You say through your tears.

“I know.” He mutters softly.

“We don’t have to.” You mumble

“Yeah.” He shakes his head once. “We do.”

“But why?”

“’Cause I took a new job.” He lets out a sigh.

“But don’t.”

He raises an eyebrow. “…Don’t what?”

“Don’t take it.”

“I already did.” He confronts

“But you can tell them you changed your mind.” You say simply.

“It doesn't work that way.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause grown-up jobs don’t.”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t like your new job.”

His expression doesn’t change. “Well… that’s alright.”

“I like your job; that you have here.”

“So do I.” He hums

“Then keep it.” You state, your eyes narrowing at him.

“I can’t.” He tries to speak softly.

“But why?”

“‘Cause this job’s better for us.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want better.”

“No?”

“I want Hawkins.”

He nods once. “I figured.”

Your eyes fill again. “I wanna stay here forever.”

“I know.” He sighs starting to feel irritated.

But then an idea pops into your head and you can’t help but gasp. “Can I stay with Grandma?”

“No.” He flat out says.

Your face deflates into a sadness that automatically makes the tears creep back up. “Please?”

“No.”

“I’ll be really, really good.” You promise.

“I know you would.”

“I won’t even complain when Mommy brushes my hair.” You bargain with him.

A tiny huff escapes his nose. “That’s mighty generous of you.”

You don’t smile. “So… can I?”

“No.” He shakes his head.

“Why?” You whine.

“’Cause you belong with your family.” He states firmly.

“I am with my family.” More tears threaten to spill from your wide eyes.

“Yeah, but mommy, Sarah and I would miss you loads. As we would still have to go to New York.”

You shake your head furiously. “I don’t wanna.”

Your daddy can’t help but let out a heavy sigh. “Well it’s what’s happening, princess.”

“Can Steve come?” You ask softly.

Hopper but can’t help himself but roll his eyes and let out a groan. He can’t help but mumble under his breathe, “fuck sake.”

He clears his throat, looking directly at you.“No he can’t, princess. His parents would want him to stay here.”

“But what if we asked nicely? They might let us then?” You say innocently, hope spreading through you.

“I’m sorry princess but they really wouldn’t let us take Steve to New York.” His voice stern, you instantly know you can’t beg your way out of this one.

You can’t help but pour your lip, hoping the puppy eyes work on him. Steve gives into you straight away when you do it. So it has to work now…

“Nice try, princess.” He says softly brushes the hair out of your face.. “Right, come on let’s get you in bed.” He says bringing back the sheet so you climb in.

“I’m not tired daddy.” You huff out.

“Well daddy is tired and I’m not arguing with you anymore. We have a long drive tomorrow, so you need a good night's sleep.” He helps tuck you into bed.

The look on your face tells everything hopper knows but he has no energy to continue the cycle of questions. Out of all things, why did you have to inherit his stubborn nature?

He gives a kiss to the top of your head you can’t help but feel comforted by it. “Love you, princess…”

Even in your stubborn and angry ways you can’t help but say, “I love you too, daddy.”

“Go to sleep for me, okay?” He slaps his hand onto his knees as he gets up from your pink frilly bed.

“Night, princess.” He says as he switches off the bedroom light, leaving only the glow of the moon spilling through your window.

“Night, daddy.” You reply softly.

The door clicks shut behind him, you wait a minute and then another. Listening to his footsteps disappear down the hallway. Only when the house falls completely quiet do you climb out of bed.

Because your daddy is wrong about one thing, you don’t need sleep.

You need to see Steve.

You shuffle across your bedroom, your tiny feet sinking into the soft carpet before climbing onto the window seat.

Across the street, Steve’s bedroom light still glows through the curtains.

He’s awake, that’s good you think to yourself.

You quickly pull on the baby pink cardigan hanging from the back of your bedroom door, tugging it over your pyjamas before pushing your feet into the little white trainers you’d kicked off earlier that evening.

You quietly open your bedroom door.

The hallway is dark, very dark. You pause.

Daddy and mommy’s bedroom door is closed.

No sounds that your little ears can detect. You tiptoe towards the staircase, carefully avoiding the creaky step Daddy always tells you about.

One…

Two…

Three…

You make it all the way downstairs. Your little hand reaches for the front door handle.

It’s locked, you can’t help but frown until the realisation dawns on you.

“…Oh.” You’d forgotten that Daddy always locks the door at night. You stand there thinking as hard as your little brain can manage.

Then your face lights up, with an idea. The back door. You quietly hurry through the kitchen, the moonlight spilling through the window above the sink.

The back door isn’t locked, Daddy must’ve forgotten. You pull it open as slowly as you can.

The hinges let out the tiniest squeak.

You freeze, in case anyone has heard you opening the door. But nothing comes, no footsteps and no stern voice from your mommy.

You slip outside not bothering to close the door behind you. The night air feels colder than you expected. You hug your cardigan tighter around yourself before carefully making your way across the garden. The little wooden gate clicks as you open it.

“…Shh…” you whisper to it. As though the gate can hear you. The street is completely quiet, no signs of cars or people. But you check the road both ways just in case. Just the distant chirping of crickets and the glow from the streetlamps.

You hurry across the road as fast as your little legs will carry you. Steve’s house feels much bigger at night. You walk up the driveway before stopping beneath his bedroom window.

It’s too high. You pout.

Then your eyes land on a handful of tiny pebbles beside the flower bed.

Perfect.

You crouch down, picking one up before gently tossing it towards his window.

Tick.

Nothing.

You throw another.

Tick.

Still nothing.

You puff out your cheeks. “…Steve,” you whisper far too quietly for him to hear.

You pick the biggest pebble you can find. Not huge or anything just slightly bigger.

You throw it, it finally makes a louder enough sound. A shadow suddenly appears behind the curtains. Your whole face lights up as the curtain moves aside. Revealing Steve his messy hair sticks up in every direction as he squints through the glass. When he finally spots you standing outside, his eyes go impossibly wide.

He hurriedly pushes open the window. “Bee?” he whispers loudly. “What are you doing?”

You look up at him, suddenly feeling very, very small. “I needed you.”

The words are so quiet he almost doesn’t hear them. His expression immediately changes one of concern. “Wait there.” He disappears from the window.

A few moments later, the front door quietly opens, and seven-year-old Steve Harrington sneaks outside in his superhero pyjamas, carefully shutting the door behind him.

“What happened?” he asks, rushing over. “Are you okay?”

You don’t answer straight away. Instead you throw your arms around him, unable to help yourself but needing him close to you. Steve freezes for a second before hugging you back just as tightly.

“…Daddy says we’re moving.” The words come out muffled against his shoulder. “…Tomorrow.”

Steve goes completely still, unsure he’s even heard you right. “What do you mean?” He asks, confused because you can’t be moving.

A sob breaks through you as your face is smushed into his shirt. “D-daddy said w-we’re moving t-to New Y-York.” You choke on your words, as more and more tears flow freely from your eyes.

Steve doesn’t even know what to say. For a few seconds, he just stands there, his arms still wrapped around you, waiting for you to laugh.

Because you have to be joking, you always joke with him. You once told him there was a monster living under your bed just because you wanted him to check. You told him your baby sister Sarah could talk when she was only learning how to crawl.

This has to be another one of those things.

“New York?” he repeats slowly.

You nod against him.

“Like… the New York?”

You pull back just enough to look at him, your cheeks wet with tears. “I don’t know.”

Steve frowns, he also doesn’t really know where New York is either.

But he knows it’s far, he knows because earlier this week he heard his dad talking on the phone about a business trip.

“He’ll have to fly out to New York.”

Fly, which means getting on an airplane.That means it isn’t just down the road. It means it’s really, really far.

“You’re lying,” he whispers.

Your face crumples. “I’m not!”

“You have to be.”

“I’m not!” Your voice gets louder, the same way it does when you’re upset and trying to make someone believe you. “My mommy and daddy told me at dinner.”

Steve’s expression changes, because you don’t lie about your mommy and daddy. Not about something like this.

“You’re really moving?” He asks softly.

You nod. “Tomorrow.”

The word makes his stomach twist. “Tomorrow?”

You manage to give him a small nod. Steve looks past you for a second, towards your house across the street.

The lights are off but he can see a faint glow coming from your bedroom, probably from your nightlight.

The house where he’d run across the street every morning because he was bored and wanted to play.The house where he knew your bedroom window was because he could wave at you before school.

“But…” His voice gets quieter. “You can’t.”

Your bottom lip trembles. “I have to.”

“No.” Steve shakes his head quickly, like if he says it enough times it’ll stop being true. “No, you can’t. We’re supposed to build that fort in the woods.”

You sniff. “I know.”

“And we didn’t finish racing our bikes.”

“I know.”

“And…” His voice catches slightly, even though he doesn’t understand why. “And we have to take care of our tree.”

That makes you cry harder. “I know.”

Steve’s eyes start to sting, he doesn’t like that. Steve Harrington doesn’t cry. At least that’s what his dad always says.

But this doesn’t feel like something small. This feels worse than when his favourite toy broke. Worse than when he got hurt falling out of a tree.

Because those things could be fixed, you were supposed to always be there.

“You’re my best friend,” he whispers.

You wipe your cheeks with the sleeves of your cardigan. “You’re my best friend too.”

“Then you can’t leave.”

Your little shoulders shake. “I don’t want to. I told my daddy I wanted to stay.”

“What did he say?” Steve asks with a shake to his voice.

“T-that I’m not allowed to stay and we all have to go.” You cry harder.

Steve is left speechless once again. The two of you stand there in the cold, holding onto each other like if you let go, the whole world might change. And maybe it already has.

“I hate New York,” you mumble.

Steve sniffles. “Me too.”

“You’ve never been there.”

“I don’t care.”

That almost makes you laugh, almost. Steve looks down at the ground, kicking at a small rock with his slipper-covered foot.

Then he looks back up at you. “Can you come back?”

You don’t know, nobody has explained that part.Nobody has told you if moving means never coming back or if it means you’ll visit sometimes.

You’re six. All you know is that tomorrow morning you’ll get in a car and leave Hawkins behind.

“I don’t know,” you whisper.

Steve’s face falls. “But… maybe?”

You nod quickly because you need that to be true. “Maybe.”

A tiny bit of hope appears in his eyes. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Maybe you’ll come back.”

You grab onto his hand. “Promise you’ll wait for me?”

Steve looks at you, really looks at you; your hair is messy from crying really hard. At your pink cardigan and the little necklace you always wear.

His best friend.

“I promise.” The answer comes so quickly you know he means it. “I’ll wait.”

“You promise promise?” You ask softly. In a way to make sure that he will keep his promise.

Steve squeezes your hand. “Cross my heart.”

You sniff. “Even if it takes a long time?”

He thinks about it, a long time sounds scary.But not as scary as never seeing you again. “Even if it takes a long time.”

A sudden voice cuts through the quiet street. “Princess!”

Every muscle in your body goes stiff, you know that voice all too well; your head slowly turns towards the road.

Your daddy is standing in the middle of the street in nothing but his flannel shirt, jeans and work boots, his coat thrown over one arm as though he’d left the house without even stopping to put it on properly. His breathing is uneven, his hair is messier than usual, and even from here you can see the fear written all over his face.

For a second… Nobody moves.Then relief flashes across his features so quickly it’s almost impossible to catch.

It disappears just as fast. “What in God’s name do you think you’re doing?” His voice is sharper now, carrying through the still night.

You immediately shrink behind Steve without even thinking. Steve instinctively reaches for your hand.

Hopper notices and he can’t help but feel his jaw clench. “Get over here. Right now.”

“I-” you try to utter.

“Now.” His police voice, the one that means he isn’t asking. Your eyes instantly fill with fresh tears.

“But Daddy-”

“Move.” His voice is firm and full of authority.

You can’t help but flinch slightly, at his tone.

Steve steps slightly in front of you before he can think better of it. “It wasn’t her fault.”

Hopper’s eyes shift to the seven-year-old.“I didn’t ask you, son.”

Steve swallows hard. “I just-”

“I said,” Hopper repeats, calmer this time but somehow even firmer, “I didn’t ask you.”

Steve’s mouth closes, he hates that you’re crying. He hates that your dad is taking you away.

But most of all… He hates that he can’t fix any of it.

You slowly step away from Steve, your fingers slipping from his hand one by one until you’re no longer touching. It somehow hurts more than hearing you were moving.

The few steps across the driveway feel impossibly long. As soon as you’re close enough, Hopper drops to one knee in front of you.

His hands immediately check your shoulders, your arms, your face.

“Are you hurt?”

You shake your head.

“Did anybody touch you?”

“No.”

“Were you out here by yourself?”

“…I came to see Steve.”

“I know why you came.”

His voice isn’t angry anymore, It’s exhausted. “You scared ten years off my life.”

You stare down at your shoes. “I just wanted to tell him.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye.” The words come out so quietly they almost disappear into the night.

Hopper closes his eyes for a brief second.

When he opened your bedroom door and found it empty…When he’d seen the back door standing open… Every awful possibility had hit him at once.

It was dark and anything could have happened to you.

He lets out a long breath before looking back at you. “You do not ever leave the house without telling your mother or me. Do you understand?”

You sniff loudly. “…Yes, Daddy.”

“No sneaking out.” He says firmly.

“…Okay.”

“No crossing roads by yourself at night.”

“…Okay.”

His expression softens just enough.

“I’m not telling you off because you wanted to see your friend.”

You blink up at him.

“I’m telling you off because I was scared.”

That makes you cry all over again. “I-I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“You were sleeping.” You mutter softly, through shed tears.

“I wasn’t sleeping.”

“You weren’t?”

He gives a tired little huff. “I’d come to check on you again.”

Your stomach drops. “…Oh.”

“You weren’t there.” His voice shakes slightly.

Now it makes sense as to why your daddy looked really scared. Not because you came to see Steve; because for a split second. He didn’t know where his little girl was.

Behind you, Steve quietly speaks up. “Mr. Hopper?”

Hopper looks over at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“You got nothing to apologise for.” He answers back gruffly.

Steve hesitates. “…Can she have one more minute?”

Hopper looks between the two children.

One with tear-stained cheeks and the other trying very hard not to cry himself.

His shoulders sag. “…One minute.”

Hopper takes a few steps back, giving the two of you just enough space while keeping a watchful eye. He folds his arms across his chest, the cold night air finally catching up to him. Every now and then he glances towards the Harrington house, half expecting Steve’s parents to notice their son standing outside in nothing but his pyjamas.

Neither of you says anything; you just stare at each other. One minute suddenly doesn’t feel very long at all.

Steve sniffs, rubbing the heel of his hand beneath his nose before reaching into the pocket of his superhero pyjama bottoms. “…Wait.” He pulls out a tiny green plastic soldier.

One of the little army men the two of you had spent all summer burying in the dirt behind your tree, pretending they were defending a secret fort.

“I was gonna use him tomorrow,” Steve mumbles, looking down at the toy in his hand. “But… you can have him.”

Your eyes widen. “…Really?”

He nods once. “So you don’t forget.”

Your little fingers carefully close around the soldier as though it’s made of glass. “I won’t forget you anyway.”

“I know.” Another silence settles.

Then something suddenly pops into your head. “Our tree.”

Steve looks up at you, instantly perking up at the mention of the tree that symbolises the connection between you both.

You glance in the direction towards your tree that’s hidden deep in the forest behind Steve’s house. The surrounding trees sway in the cold November breeze.

“Will you look after it while I’m gone?” Your little voice shaking, your heart breaking at the thought of you having to leave it.

Steve follows your gaze. “The whole time?”

You nod so quickly your hair bounces. “‘Cause… it’ll be lonely.”

Steve can’t help but also look into the distance of where the tree would be. He thinks about all the memories you both have collected over the past year. When he first saw it the first thing he thought was that you would love it. And he wasn’t wrong.

It was where you both dug for worms, where you held tea parties with muddy water and forcing Steve to participate. Where you also decided the roots were dragon tails; Steve having to be the knight to come and save you. It’s also the place you both kissed but when the lightning struck twice in the same place; it only solidified the deep connection between you both.

Steve remembers going back with you the next day as you both carve a wonky little heart with your initials; borrowing one of Hopper’s screwdrivers because neither of you could find a knife.

He swallows around the lump growing in his throat. “I’ll look after it.”

“You promise?” You hold out your pinky.

“I promise.” Steve wraps his pinky with yours, sealing the promise between you both.

“You gotta make sure nobody climbs on it too much.” You tell him with a serious tone, similar to the one your mommy uses, when she’s doing something important.

“I will.”

“And if a branch falls off…”

“I’ll pick it up.” Steve says instantly, as if it’s his mission to fix whatever he physically can.

“And if it gets poorly…”

Steve frowns. “…Trees get poorly?”

You nod very seriously. “They can.”

Steve considers this like it’s the most important responsibility anyone has ever given him. “…Then I’ll look after it until it’s better.”

That finally earns the tiniest smile from you. “Thank you.”

Steve smiles back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

Behind you, Hopper checks his watch. “…Time.”

The word is quiet, almost reluctant.

Your smile disappears instantly at the words from your daddy’s mouth. “No…”

“I’m sorry, Princess.”

You throw your arms around Steve one last time. This time he hugs you before you’ve even wrapped your arms around him, squeezing so tightly it almost hurts.

“I’ll wait,” he whispers into your hair.

“I know.”

“You better come back.” He says, as if he’s trying to convince himself that you will…

“I’ll try.” Determination flowing through your words.

Neither of you really understands what “trying” means.

You’re six and seven, you both have no control and grown-ups decide everything.

Slowly, far too slowly especially for hoopers liking, you let each other go.

Your fingers stay linked until they physically can’t anymore, slipping apart inch by inch.

Steve watches as you walk back towards your daddy.

Halfway there, you stop.

You turn around one last time, tears slipping from your eyes. “Bye, Stevie.”

His lip wobbles. “…Bye, Bee.”

You wave, Hopper picks you up. Your eyes still locked on him.

He waves back, as he can feel the tears prick up in his eyes. Neither of you know that this isn’t forever.

All you both know is it’s so painful. As if both of you are losing a part of yourselves.

Steve watches hopper walk away with you back to your house that’s only across the road. But tomorrow it won’t be. You're still waving until you and your dad disappear into the house.

Steve feels a tear roll down his cheek but even then; he steps back inside his house closing the front door locking it and putting the chain back on. He runs upstairs trying to hold in the sob that’s threatening to break free.

Boys don’t cry… So neither should he.

13th of January 1978

Life was different in New York compared to Hawkins. You still missed Steve and your tree, but over the past four years they had begun to feel like distant memories, replaced by hospital waiting rooms and whispered conversations you weren’t supposed to hear.

Cancer…It has become a word you hear almost every day.

At first you didn’t know what it meant. You’d thought it was just another one of those grown-up words that children weren’t expected to understand.

Now you wished you still didn’t. Your little sister, Sarah, had been ill for what felt like forever.

Some days she had enough energy to chase you around the apartment, giggling so hard she could barely breathe.

Other days she couldn’t even get out of bed; those were the days you hated most. Your mommy had stopped singing while she cooked dinner.

Your daddy worked longer hours than he ever used to, leaving before the sun came up and sometimes not coming home until after you’d already gone to bed.

When he did make it home in time, he always looked exhausted. The little lines around his eyes had grown deeper over the past year.

He smiled less now, not because he didn’t want to because he’d forgotten how.

You’d tried helping as best as you could. You washed the dishes without being asked, even though you still needed to stand on a chair to reach the sink. You read stories to Sarah whenever she was too tired to hold the book herself.

Sometimes you even let her win at board games, that was a really big sacrifice.

But none of it made her better.

The doctors kept saying they were “trying everything.”

You hoped everything was enough. Because you couldn’t imagine a world without your little sister in it.

The children’s ward had become strangely familiar. Familiar enough that you no longer stared at the bright animal murals painted across the walls. Familiar enough that you knew which floor tiles squeaked outside Sarah’s room and which nurses always had sweets tucked into their pockets.

It wasn’t home, but it didn’t feel completely strange anymore either.

You sat cross-legged in the chair beside Sarah’s hospital bed, a fan of brightly coloured playing cards clutched in your hands.

“Go Fish,” you announced proudly.

Sarah scrunched up her little nose. “I don’t think you have any sevens.”

“I might.”

“You don’t.”

You gasped dramatically. “You peeked!”

“I didn’t!”

“You did.”

Sarah burst into giggles, the sound filling the room far louder than anything else had all morning.

“I didn’t peek,” she insisted between laughs.

“You’ve got a lying face.” You say teasingly.

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“I don’t!”

“You do.”

Sarah stuck her tongue out at you.

You immediately copied her.

For a whole minute the two of you simply sat making silly faces at one another until Sarah laughed so hard she had to stop, pressing a hand against her tummy.

“It hurts,” she whispered.

Your smile disappeared instantly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She still smiled at you, just a little smaller than before.

You carefully reached across the bed and took her tiny hand. “You’ll win next game.”

“I always lose.”

“Not this time.”

“You said that last time.”

“…Maybe I was wrong.”

Sarah giggled again. A gentle knock sounded against the already open door.

Neither of you looked up straight away.

“You two keeping each other out of trouble?” You recognised the voice immediately. Dr. Kaplan smiled warmly from the doorway, one hand resting against the frame.

“We’re trying,” you answered.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

Sarah smiled. “I won one game.”

“Did you now?” he asked.

She nodded proudly.

“I think she cheated,” you informed him very seriously.

“I did not!”

Dr. Kaplan chuckled quietly. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that accusation.” He stepped further into the room, glancing towards your parents.

Your mommy looked up from the chair beside the window. Your daddy straightened from where he’d been staring blankly out at the grey January sky.

The doctor’s smile softened. “Jim… Diane…”

Something in his voice made the room suddenly feel quieter. Too quiet. “We’ve got the results back.”

Your heart skipped. Your parents exchanged a quick look before your daddy gave a single nod.

Dr. Kaplan looked over at you first. “You’ve been incredibly brave through all those blood tests.”

You shrugged. “They weren’t that bad.”

“They still weren’t very pleasant.”

You glanced at Sarah. “Did they work?”

The question hung in the room. For just a second, nobody answered.

Then Dr. Kaplan smiled. “They did.”

Hope bloomed inside your chest so quickly it almost hurt.

“You and Sarah are a match.”

You stared at him. “…I am?”

“You are.”

You looked straight at Sarah. “We match!”

Sarah’s tired little face lit up.“We’re matching sisters!”

You laughed. “We’ve always been matching sisters.”

“No,” Sarah corrected very seriously. “Now it’s official.”

Even your daddy let out a quiet huff that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Your mommy covered her mouth as tears filled her eyes.

Happy tears, for the first time in months.

You looked back at the doctor. “So… does that mean she’s gonna get better now?”

Dr. Kaplan knelt so he was looking at you properly. “It means we’ve got another chance to help her.”

You nodded immediately. “Then let’s do it.”

The simplicity of your answer made every adult in the room fall silent.

There wasn’t even a second of hesitation, no fear and no questions just complete certainty. Because if giving something to Sarah meant she might get to come home… Why would you ever say no?

16th of January 1978

It doesn’t take long for the ball to be rolling, before you know it your mom and dad are signing forms. You’re now laid in a hospital bed for a change.

Everything is familiar but you can’t help it feel strange having never been in this position before. Normally you're watching your brave little sister do it all. But now it’s your turn.

The nurse attaches the identification wristband to my wrist. “It’s not too tight is it, sweetheart?” The nurse asks softly. And even though the anxiety is running through you. You have to be brave, if Sarah can do this. So can you.

“It’s fine, thank you.” You answer back politely, the nurse smiles at you softly. Your dad is sitting in the chair next to you, as your mom is in Sarah’s hospital room. Your dad holds your hand, he can probably sense the nervousness coming from you.

“Hey, you're very brave, you know that right?” He says he lightly kisses the back of your hand.

“I know daddy.”

“I’m so proud of you, princess.”

“Thank you, daddy.”

A knock on the door echoes the room as Dr Kaplan walks in no longer in a white coat but a set of scrubs. Similar to the ones your daddy is wearing.

A warm smile spreads across Dr. Kaplan’s face as he steps fully into the room, gently pulling the surgical mask down from around his neck.

“Morning,” he greets warmly. “How are we doing today?”

You offer him a small shrug. “A little bit scared.”

“I’d be more worried if you weren’t.” His voice remains calm as he walks over to your bedside, picking up your chart for a quick glance before looking back at you. “Everything’s ready.”

You nod, your fingers tightening slightly around your dad’s hand.

“So…” Dr. Kaplan continues, “we’re going to take you downstairs in a few minutes.”

“Will it hurt?” you ask quietly.

“You might have a sore arm afterwards, and you’ll probably feel a little sleepy when you wake up.” He smiles reassuringly. “But while we’re doing the operation, you’ll be completely asleep.”

You look at him curiously.

“How?”

“We’ll give you something called a general anaesthetic.”

The word sounds enormous.

“A general… anaesthetic?” you repeat carefully, trying not to stumble over the syllables.

“It just means we’ll help you fall asleep,” he explains. “You’ll close your eyes here… and the next thing you know, you’ll be waking up again.”

“It’ll feel like no time has passed at all,” your dad adds softly.

You think about that for a moment before giving a small nod.

“…Okay.”

Dr. Kaplan smiles.

“That’s my brave girl.”

Your cheeks warm slightly at the praise.

A porter appears at the doorway with a hospital trolley a few minutes later.

“I think they’re ready for you downstairs.”

Your stomach twists.

Your dad immediately stands, still refusing to let go of your hand.

“I’ll come with you.”

The journey through the hospital corridors feels much longer than usual.

You recognise almost every ceiling tile as they slowly pass overhead.

Normally, you’re the one walking beside Sarah’s bed, waving whenever she looks frightened.

Today…

You’re the one lying in it. Outside the operating theatre, everything becomes quieter.

The nurses help move you onto another bed before gently placing a warm blanket over you.

Dr. Kaplan appears beside you once again, now wearing his mask properly over his face.

“How are you doing?”

“Nervous.”

“I know.”

He reaches over, adjusting the blanket around your shoulders.

“In a minute, you’re going to feel yourself getting sleepy.”

You swallow. “What if… I can’t fall asleep?”

He chuckles softly. “I promise you will.”

A nurse carefully places a soft mask over your nose and mouth.

“It smells funny,” you mumble.

“It does,” Dr. Kaplan agrees with a smile you can still hear in his voice. “Just keep taking nice, slow breaths.”

You do exactly as you’re told.

One breath.

Then another.

The room already feels a little fuzzier. Dr. Kaplan keeps his voice calm. “Here’s something I’d like you to do for me.”

You blink slowly.

“I want you to think about somewhere that makes you happy.”

Somewhere happy… For a second, your mind is completely blank. Because you can’t really think back to a happy memory you have had lately.

Life in New York has been consumed with bad memories, even more so when your sister got diagnosed with cancer. But, then almost without warning. A little boy with messy brown hair runs across a front garden wearing grass-stained shorts.

“I think I’ve got a better name for you.”

“You do?”

“Bee.”

Warm sunshine spills across your face. Pink roses sway gently in the summer breeze.A lazy bumblebee lands on your yellow dress before buzzing away again.

You hear laughter, your laughter and Steve’s

The biggest oak tree you’ve ever seen stretches high above your heads as the two of you sit side by side on its lowest branch, your legs swinging in the warm Indiana air.

“You can see forever,” you’d whispered.

“I told you you’d love it.”

The memory feels so real that for a moment you can almost feel the rough bark beneath your fingertips.

As if you can almost hear the birds singing overhead. Almost…

The voices around you begin to drift further away. The last thing you hear is Dr. Kaplan’s gentle voice. “That’s it… keep thinking about your happy place.”

You do.

Then everything fades to black.

8th of February 1978

The transplant seems to have worked. For the first time in months, Sarah asks to get out of bed.

The nurses help her into a little dressing gown covered in ducks before the two of you slowly walk the length of the children’s ward together.

She gets tired after only five minutes. But she laughs through it. It feels like sunshine after weeks of rain.

Your mommy cries in the corridor afterwards.This time they’re happy tears. Your daddy smiles more over the next few weeks than he has in almost a year.

One Saturday, he even brings a deck of cards from home.

For an hour…Your family almost feels normal again.

3rd of March 1978

Sarah comes home and the apartment feels alive again. As if it did when you were home in Hawkins.

You help your mommy carry blankets upstairs while your daddy fusses over whether Sarah’s pillows are soft enough.

Sarah complains that everyone keeps treating her like she’s made of glass.

“I can still beat you at Go Fish,” she tells you.

“You definitely can’t.”

She does, and without cheating and she grins the entire evening because of it.

29th of March 1978

At first, nobody notices that Sarah sleeps a little longer and she eats a little less. But you notice she has no energy to play as often as she used to.

Not long after you notice, so do your parents, which ends up in more hospital visits. The doctors say they’re keeping an eye on things.

Your parents pretend not to worry and you pretend too.

17th of April 1978

The hospital becomes home again.

Only this time, Sarah doesn’t complain about being back in hospital. She doesn’t have the energy to complain.

Your mommy starts sleeping beside her bed. Your daddy starts drinking more coffee than you’ve ever seen. Some nights you notice he doesn’t sleep at all…

2nd of May 1978

The doctors stop using words you understand.

Instead they speak quietly in the corridor with your parents, pointing at charts and x-rays while pretending you can’t see them.

You stop asking what they’re saying.

If it was good news…They’d tell Sarah first.

She sleeps most of the day now. Sometimes she’s awake just long enough to smile at you before drifting back to sleep again.

You sit beside her bed with your homework spread across your lap; you don’t really read any of it. You just want her to know she isn’t on her own.

14th of May 1978

You don’t remember the last time your family all ate dinner together.

Your mommy barely leaves the hospital.

Your daddy comes home long enough to shower, change his clothes and make sure you’ve eaten before driving straight back again.

You’ve started making your own packed lunches for school. You even remember to put one together for your daddy. Sometimes he forgets to eat unless somebody reminds him.

28th of May 1978

Sarah doesn’t ask to play cards anymore and she doesn’t ask for stories.

Most days she just wants you to hold her hand; So you do like the good big sister you are. You tell her about school instead and about the funny thing your teacher said. You also mention the pigeon that somehow flew into the classroom before crashing back out of the window.

You make every story sound exciting, even when it isn’t. Because every time you hear her laugh…

It feels like you’ve won something.

9th of June 1978

The telephone rings before the sun has a chance to rise. It jolts you awake so suddenly your heart begins pounding against your ribs.

For a moment, everything is still. Then you hear your mommy answer the phone. “…Yes.”

A pause. “We’re on our way.”

Her voice cracks on the last four words.

Your bedroom door swings open.

Your daddy is already dressed in yesterday’s clothes, his flannel shirt half-buttoned, his hair sticking up in every direction as though he never even thought about brushing it.

“Come on, princess,” he says quietly. “Get dressed.”

His voice is calm, way too calm.

You don’t ask any questions as you can already feel the sinking in the pit of your stomach. You already know.

The drive to the hospital feels endless; nobody switches the radio on and no one dares to speak.

Your mommy cries silently into a tissue she keeps twisting between trembling fingers.

Your daddy stares straight ahead, gripping the steering wheel so tightly the veins in his hands stand out beneath his skin.

Every red light feels too long.

Every mile feels too slow.

When you finally reach the children’s ward, everything feels wrong.

The nurses smile when they see families.

Today…Nobody smiles and you can’t help but feel sick to your stomach.

Dr. Kaplan is waiting outside Sarah’s room.

Relief flashes across his face when he sees your parents. “You made it,” he says gently.

Your daddy nods once. “Is she-”

“She’s waiting for you.”

The room is quieter than you’ve ever known it. Morning light spills softly through the window, catching the little stars someone stuck to the ceiling months ago.

Sarah looks impossibly small against the white hospital bed.

Her little teddy bear is tucked beneath one arm. A pale blue blanket is pulled up to her chest, she somehow looks even smaller than seven years old.

Her eyes slowly open as you all walk inside. “…Daddy.”

“I’m here, sweetheart.”

He reaches her bedside in three quick strides, taking one tiny hand in both of his.

Your mommy gently brushes her thumb across Sarah’s forehead. “We’re all here,” she whispers.

Sarah’s eyes drift around the room until they find you. A tiny smile appears on her face. “…Sissy.”

You hurry closer, carefully wrapping your fingers around hers.“I’m here.”

“You came.”

“Course I did.”

“I waited.”

The words make your throat tighten. “I know.”

Sarah smiles sleepily. “You have to…” She pauses to catch her breath. “…look after Teddy.”

You glance at the worn little bear tucked beside her. “I will.”

“And Mommy.”

“I promise.”

“…Daddy too.”

You nod before she can ask again. “I promise.”

She seems satisfied with that answer. After a long moment, she looks back at you. “…Love you.”

Your eyes begin to sting. “I love you too.”

The room falls quiet. The only sounds are the soft beeping of the monitors beside her bed and Sarah’s slow, tired breathing. You squeeze her hand just a little tighter. The nurse takes your hand, “let’s sit outside honey.”

You leave the room you can’t help but turn back before you leave, your daddy gives you a tight smile. But you can see the sadness in his eyes. The nurse leads you out of the room shutting the door behind you; as she guides you to the nurses station.

You sit quietly beside the nurses’ station, your hands folded tightly in your lap.

One of the nurses crouches beside you. “Would you like a hot chocolate?”

You manage a small shake of your head. “…No, thank you.”

She gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze before returning to the desk, your eyes never leave Sarah’s room.

The blinds are still open; your daddy stands beside the bed, one hand wrapped around Sarah’s much smaller one.

Your mommy sits close enough that her forehead almost rests against the mattress, gently stroking the soft fuzz beginning to grow back across Sarah’s head.

Nobody seems to be talking. The silence somehow feels louder than words ever could.

You tell yourself not to worry. The transplant worked. Dr. Kaplan said it had, this is just another setback. Another bad morning, Sarah has had bad mornings before, She always finds her way through them. She has to.

Suddenly you hear the machines beeping loudly in the room. A different nurse who isn’t far from you springs up, “stay here sweetheart.”

As she and a few others run into Sarah’s room, shutting the blinds so you can no longer see what’s happening.

You sit there on the edge of your seat as your eyes lock onto Sarah’s room. Minutes pass but with time dragging it feels like hours; tears start to prick your eyes making your eyes blurry. You're scared to blink in case you miss something.

Suddenly the loud, echoing beeping in Sarah’s room stops and is replaced with a harrowing scream that’s followed by a sob.

Your entire body freezes, because you know that scream, you know that voice. It’s your mommy..

The nurse beside you immediately turns away, her expression changing as she looks towards the closed blinds.

You don’t understand what’s happening, you don’t want to understand.

Because if everything was okay…Your mommy wouldn’t be crying like that.

The corridor feels impossibly quiet despite the noise around you.

The phones are ringing, nurses are moving around. The sound of footsteps against the polished floor.

Everything continues, but you can’t move. You stare at the blinds covering Sarah’s room, waiting for them to open.

Waiting for your daddy to walk out and tell you it was just another scare. Waiting for him to smile and say Sarah is okay.

But the minutes keep passing and nobody comes out. You can’t help but feel your hands starting to vibrate.

The nurse notices and she moves closer, crouching beside you. “Honey…”

You look at her.

And the sadness in her eyes makes your stomach drop. Because adults always try to hide things from children.

But sometimes…They don’t have to say anything.

You already know.The door to Sarah’s room finally opens.

Dr. Kaplan steps out first, His face is tired, His eyes are red. He looks towards the nurses’ station before lowering his gaze.

Then your daddy appears behind him and you almost don’t recognise him. Not because he looks different but because he looks broken.

His shoulders are slumped and his face is wet with tears. And your daddy never cries, Not like this, Not where people can see. For a moment, he just stands there.

His eyes find yours.And somehow that hurts more than anything.

Because you can see it. You can see the moment he realises he has to tell you.

He has to be the one. Slowly, he walks towards you.

Each step feels like it takes forever. The nurse stands and gently moves out of the way, giving him space.

Your daddy kneels down in front of you; for a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything.

He just looks at you, like he’s trying to memorise your face.

Like he’s trying to figure out how to break your heart without breaking himself.

“Princess…” His voice cracks immediately.

Your eyes fill. “No…” You shake your head before he even says anything. “No, Daddy.”

His face crumples And that’s when you know. Because your daddy wouldn’t look at you like that if Sarah was okay. “She fought so hard.” A tear falls down his cheek. “She fought harder than anyone I’ve ever known.”

You shake your head faster. “No.” Your voice becomes smaller. “No, she’s okay.” He reaches forward, gently taking your hands in his.

“She was tired, princess.”

You stare at him; your whole body feels cold. “But she was getting better.” Your lip trembles.

Your daddy closes his eyes, Just for a second. Because he doesn’t know how to explain something that he doesn’t understand himself.

“I know.”His voice breaks. “I know she was.”

You look past him towards the closed door behind him. Towards the room where your sister still is. “I want to see her.”

Your daddy’s expression changes immediately. Pain. Pure, heartbreaking pain. He looks back towards the room before looking at you again.

And then he shakes his head softly. “Not yet, princess.”

You frown through your tears. “But I want to.”

“I know.” His voice is gentle, but it’s the saddest you’ve ever heard it. “I know you do.”

Your bottom lip trembles. “Why can’t I?”

Your daddy swallows hard, because he knows you deserve an answer.But he also knows you’re still his little girl.

“S-she uh-.” He chokes on his words.“Your mommy is with her right now.”

You look towards the door again. “Can’t I be with her too?”

A tear slips down his cheek And that’s when you realise something. Your daddy doesn’t want to keep you away because he doesn’t think you love Sarah. He’s keeping you away because he loves you. Because he wants to protect the last piece of childhood you still have. “No, princess.”

His voice cracks. “Not this time.”

You don’t argue, not because you understand.

But because your daddy looks so sad and you’ve never seen him sad before. Slowly, he pulls you into his arms. You immediately cling to him.

The same way you did when you were little.

The same way you did when storms scared you.

The same way you did when you left Hawkins.

Except this time… Your daddy can’t make it better. “I’m sorry, princess.”

You shake your head against his shoulder. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” But he doesn’t answer.

Because in his mind, he did. He was her daddy, he was supposed to protect her; he was supposed to fix things. And he couldn’t…

Eventually, after what feels like forever, your daddy gently pulls away.

He wipes your tears with his thumb. “You stay with your mommy, okay?”

You nod. “But where are you going?”

His eyes flicker towards the hallway. “I just need a minute.”

You don’t like that answer because your daddy never needs a minute. Not when you’re upset.

Not when Sarah was scared, not ever.

But you nod anyway. Because even at eleven years old, you can tell when someone is hurting.

You watch him walk away.

You don’t follow him straight away.

You stand up walking to the window of Sarah’s room, you just stand there as you feel it hit you. Your mommy is still inside Sarah’s room and you can hear her cries through the glass.

A few minutes pass, then ten and before you know it you realise fifteen minutes have passed.

And something tells you your daddy isn’t just taking a minute. So you get up, You follow the quiet sounds of the hospital, Down the corridor and Past the rooms. Until you find the stairwell, the door is slightly open and you push it gently.

And that’s when you see him. Your daddy is sitting on the bottom step. His elbows are resting on his knees. His head is in his hands. For a moment, you don’t move.

Because this isn’t the daddy you know. This isn’t the man who carried you when your legs got tired. This isn’t the man who checked under your bed for monsters. This isn’t the man who promised he would always keep you safe.

This is just your daddy, a person who is hurting.

A quiet sob escapes him and it feels wrong to see him this way. Your daddy isn’t supposed to cry, not like this. “Daddy?”

His head lifts immediately For a second, panic flashes across his face. Like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

Then he quickly wipes his cheeks. “You’re not supposed to see me like this, princess.”

You slowly walk closer. “Why?”

“Because I’m your daddy.” His voice shakes. “I’m supposed to be strong.”

Your eyes fill again. “You are strong.”

He looks at you.

But you shake your head. “You’re just sad.”

And somehow… That breaks him more than anything else.

You just see him as your daddy, He opens his arms and You don’t hesitate. You sit beside him on the stairs and let him pull you close.

He holds onto you tightly. Like he’s afraid if he lets go, he’ll lose someone else too.

“I should’ve done more.” The words are barely a whisper.

Your heart aches. “Daddy…”

“I should’ve known.”

“You couldn’t know.”

“I’m her dad.” His voice breaks. “I was supposed to save her.”

You don’t have an answer for that, nor do you know what to even say back. There are some things even grown-ups don’t know how to fix.

So instead… You just hold him.

Because even though Sarah was your little sister she was also his little girl…

Taglist: @xpeachsunsidex @youreasnack @votel4dybird @maemeru @cymbalta-slut @kurtsw7rld96 @itmekelpy @strangegirl26sff @eli0eli0 @beelstoy

Head to… The Library | The Welcome Sign

Dividers by @designlikenonsense & @moonstoneandmoonlight

[strangegirl26sff]

very excited for the next chapters of this!!!!

[buckysgrace]

13. tension

Only Exception

Steve Harrington x fem!OC (Kim Mayfield)

CW: mutual masturbation, handjobs, vaginal fingering

A dull pounding was echoing in her head as Kim slowly blinked her eyes awake, the right side of her neck slightly sore from where she’d fallen asleep on the couch. Despite that she felt anchored, secured.

It took her another second to realize the weight over chest was a muscular arm, warm and comforting as her back was pressed flushed against a steady chest.

Steve. Oh, God. She’d snuggled up with Steve for the night in the living room. She hadn’t meant to pass out again. Yet Kim was the one that was intruding, invading his space. Yet he didn’t seem to mind, not when he was beginning to mumble and stir too.

It took her another second to realize that his warm palm was cupping one of her boobs, holding onto her like he was afraid she’d wiggle away. Her face burned at the sensation, a spark rushing through her body.

No. The guilt was already beginning to fill her as she shoved those shameful thoughts away, reminding her that this was Nancy’s ex. Not only that, but she still had feelings for him. It was wrong. Very wrong. Yet, she lingered.

She fully expected him to push her away, definitely not to bring her closer. His hand moved from her boob, pushing her hair off of her neck before wrapping around her waist. He sighed deeply against the side of her face, nose brushing against her cheek as he clung to her. 

Kim inhaled sharply as she felt his soft lips brush against her skin, his mustache dragging softly as he peppered gentle kisses along her neck. A shiver raced down her spine as she bit back a giggle as he nipped at the sensitive part of her neck, making a whine fall from her. 

Steve must’ve enjoyed it because she could feel his lips curling into a smile as he flicked his tongue across the tender spot, placing his large hand across her abdomen to keep her from squirming. 

It was then she could feel his bulge pressed against the curve of her ass, slowly rutting into her as his fingers dipped lower down her abdomen. Shivers continued to spread across her body as his groan vibrated across her neck, sucking gently. His hands were heavy as he cupped her chest, squeezing softly as she gasped. 

There was no time to think about how wrong this was, not when it felt so right. Kim tilted her head back to sigh as he continued to grope her, sighing deeply against her skin as he continued to drag his cock across her ass. 

A gasp fell from her as he brushed his fingers underneath the hem of her dress, caressing her skin as his tongue continued to flick across her neck. She trembled against him, slowly beginning to rut herself back against his hardened cock as her clit throbbed in pleasure. She squeezed her thighs together when he reached up to nip at her earlobe, tugging softly. 

A jolt of bliss raced through her body as his long fingers stroked her wet folds, then pressing down gently against her sensitive clit. He shushed her as she tried to press her thighs together, using his free hand to spread her apart again. A groan left him again as he continued to rut against her, his hard cock dragging across her soft flesh as he continued to rub firm circles against her clit.

It was a struggle to keep from crying out, her gown clinging to her body as she rocked herself up against his hand. She felt like she was in his heaven as he built a rhythm, rubbing her clit in firm circles as he continued to grind himself against her. He was pressing her down harder against him, his whines vibrating across the curve of her neck. 

Steve’s breath was warm and heavy on her neck, drool slipping past his lips as he messily kissed at her skin. His movements were becoming rough and desperate as he pressed himself deeper against her, leaving her to imagine what it would feel like to have his cock buried inside of her cunt. Kim moaned as she thought about how long and thick his dick is, how he was much bigger than her ex had been. Hell, she was certain her dildo was smaller than he was.

All of that just made her even more hot, lustful as she could feel the waves in her tummy beginning to overlap. The muscles in her stomach were clenching tightly together as a squeak left her mouth, her thighs shaking as he rubbed at her clit passionately. 

She cried out as she came, squirming from the intensity as he bit down on her neck again. She could feel herself gushing around nothing, her walls clamping and desperate to feel him inside of her. She wanted to be stretched by him, pressed apart and used however he wanted her. 

Steve whined as he rocked his hips forward once, then twice, then fell to a stop on the third one. He buried himself against her flesh, grunting loudly as he came. Kim was quick to look over at him, admiring the pleasure that grew on his pretty features. HIs lips were parted, eyes heavy and face all flushed. 

God. She’d never wanted to kiss someone so badly before. All she wanted was to feel him against her again. 

Her heart hammered roughly as he panted against her, a deep sigh leaving him as he brought his fingers up to his mouth again. She stared in awe as he sucked on his digits, crooning filthily as he tasted her on his tongue. Little rocking movements continued to grind against her as his own little whines filled the room. 

Oh God he was trying to kill her. 

“I’m going to go clean up.” Kim whispered after a moment of silence, her eyes lingering on his pretty features. He was watching her too, his other hand brushing across her face softly. 

“Okay.” Steve nodded in agreement, hazel eyes filled with something that was similar to adoration as she bit down on her bottom lip. It took everything in her to pull away, to force herself to the bathroom to clean up. 

She forced herself to clean up quickly, scrubbing herself clean before brushing her teeth. Then she splashed water on her face, groaning as she avoided eye contact with herself. How had she let that happen twice? She wasn’t an animal, she was in control of her own actions. 

Her bare feet were cool against the floor as she rushed into her room, shutting the door behind herself as she groaned loudly. Fuck. Everything was much more complicated now. All it took was one night to completely screw everything up. 

There was no way Nancy could ever find out, or else she’d definitely hate Kim. She’d have to make Steve swear to secrecy, to never say anything again. She trusted him; knew that he probably felt guilty too. It was just a moment of lust, that was it. There was nothing else to it. 

The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to spill her guts onto the floor. It didn’t even have to do with being hungover, just with the fact that she’d never felt so ashamed before. She was Nancy’s best friend, and this wasn’t supposed to happen. And what if Steve hated her? What if he thought she was a slut and wanted her out? What was she supposed to do then? Word traveled quick in this town and she couldn’t start her year as a new teacher also being the town slut. 

Kim was tempted to crawl into bed and hide there forever, but decided that it would only look worse on her part. She could pretend that everything was normal; fine. Everything was ordinary, exactly as it should be. 

So she stepped outside, brows furrowing as she was greeted with the delicious smell of bacon and sausage. Her feet carried her as she slowly walked forward, looking at the spread in front of her. Along with the two meats there was also omelets, waffles and a platter of fruits.

She’d been trapped in her room for longer than she’d thought. 

“Steve made us breakfast,” Robin responded lowly, wearing a pair of sunglasses on the bridge of her nose, “the question is if we can keep it down.” She sighed as she held a little hand held fan up to her face. 

Steve snorted as he walked around Kim, placing three cups of orange juice on the table. He looked refreshed, handsome in his wife beater and khakis. He’d taken some time to let himself get put together, his hair neat even though it looked as if he’d just brushed his fingers through it.

“Helps with the hangover.” He told her, chest brushing against her back from the way he was leaning with her. He lingered there for a moment, eyes scanning her features as she felt her cheeks turning pink. She wondered if he was talking about breakfast or something else. 

They both looked away at the same moment, something tense settling between the two of them as she nodded her head. She did her best to play it off, thankful for the way Robin was rubbing her temple.

Kim quickly took a seat, muttering a thanks before beginning to serve herself. The other two already had a pateful of food, so it looked like she could help herself to whatever she wanted. Right now all she could focus on was the waffles and drowning it in syrup. 

They ate in silence for a moment before Steve and Robin began to talk, reminding Kim that there was no reason to be awkward. Or maybe there was. She wasn’t sure how to navigate this situation with Steve. It was, well, awkward. 

“When did that happen?” Robin gaped as she pushed Kim’s hand off of her neck, staring at the marks on her skin, “you dog.” She laughed as she shook her head, giving her a scandalous look.

Everything inside and outside of Kim burned, clear down to her toes as she brought her hand up to the side of her neck. She gulped as an awkward laugh rolled off of her tongue as she looked over towards Steve.

To her surprise he was smiling, his lips curled into the happiest little smile she’d ever seen as he stabbed at his food again. She gasped for a moment as she shook her head, trying to compose herself as she shrugged her shoulders.

“Yeah,” she nodded her head, wiping her mouth from where she’d taken a gulp of her juice, “looks like I got attacked.” To be fair, she hadn’t even noticed her neck. She’d been so humiliated when she was getting ready that she hadn’t inspected herself.

Nor had she been expecting Steve to leave hickeys all over her body either. Something about that felt wrong, until she was forced to admit that there wasn’t really anything sinister about what they were doing. They weren’t cheating as neither of them were in a relationship. It was just… difficult. 

She turned her gaze away from him again as she inhaled her waffle, using that as an excuse to keep from talking as Robin began to talk about how she hoped life would be like in Massachusetts. Apparently she was talking to someone online, and was hoping that would work out too. 

Across the table she could feel Steve peering at her every so often, his gaze burning into the side of her face as she did her best to ignore him. Though in all honesty, she was struggling. She kept sneaking her own glances, wondering what he was thinking. 

And then she met his hazel eyes, the breath leaving her lungs as they peered at one another for the longest time. There was something in his eyes that was unreadable, something that she didn’t quite understand but she wanted to. 

Kim had a hard time looking him in the eye after that, too focused on the shame that was stirring inside of her. Perhaps the worst thing was that she was still thinking about how good he’d made her feel, how intense it had all been. Despite their complicated history, she wanted more. Though she wasn’t quite sure she could handle hurting Nancy. No, she didn’t want that at all. 

So instead she stared at her plate and made small talk when Robin spoke to her. It wasn’t that she wanted to avoid or ignore Steve, but she didn’t know how to talk to him. She’d only ever been with Nick so she didn’t have much experience with hook ups, especially when it came to someone that she lived with. How was she supposed to act like nothing had happened? Especially when it had happened twice. 

She supposed that it wasn’t really a hook up in a round about way. They’d barely touched one another in all honesty, and when they’d kissed it had been well before that. Maybe it wasn’t that complicated, maybe she was just being dramatic. 

Since Steve had cooked for them, it only seemed right that Kim did the dishes. Which she didn’t really mind since it got her mind off of what had happened. Plus it gave Robin and Steve some time on their own since she’d be leaving for her flight later tonight, though she couldn’t understand why she’d wanted to get so drunk before leaving. 

“So, are you regretting moving back here?” Robin turned to face Kim as she finished drying her hands off on the towel, brows cocked. 

“No,” Kim gave her a little smile as she shrugged her shoulders. Steve turned, his arm resting against the back of the couch so he could fully face her too, “everyone keeps asking me that, but I’m happy. I think it’s nice to be in such a rural area.” She nodded her head, keeping her fingers into a light fist as she walked towards the couch.

This time she sat on the other side of Robin, as far away from Steve as possible. If she was near him, she didn’t know if she’d be able to control herself. 

“Steve says he’ll never leave,” she tilted her head, blue eyes shining as she looked at him, “he thinks it’s the best place ever.” She mocked, shaking her head as she snorted. 

“I never said that,” Steve scoffed to defend himself, pushing his fingers through his bleached hair, “but there’s nothing quite like this place. I don’t know, I think it’s great. Not the best, but it’s home.” He concluded with a nod of his head. Kim pressed her lips into a little smile, unable to help herself. 

“It is nice,” she played with her hair as she agreed with him, “I mean I love the ocean, but there is something special about this place. I like how quiet it can be.” Robin turns towards her, wearing a look of disgust.

“Quiet is a nice way to word it,” she shook her head again, “well, you two will have to visit me. I can’t wait to send you pictures.”

“I’ve been there, it’s not bad.” Steve shrugged his shoulders, smirking at the way Robin dramatically sighed and rolled her eyes again. Kim was fascinated though, a little jealous that Steve had been able to explore so much. The most places she’d ever been to had been when her family had moved out here. 

“Steve will want to know all about the babes.” Kim teased for some reason, flushing at the way Steve turned towards her with a smile. He shrugged.

“I think there’s plenty of babes here.” He added flirtatiously, eyes lingering on her for the longest time. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, then increased as she rubbed her fingers across her chest. 

“Do you think Nancy will find someone?” Robin turned towards her suddenly, “I mean she hasn’t been with anyone since her and Jonathan split, right?” She rubbed at the back of her neck, brows furrowed curiously. 

“Yeah, I don’t think she’s with anyone right now. Maybe in the future.” Kim answered casually, failing to mention why Nancy had split with Jonathan. There had been a specific reason, but she didn’t want to bring that up. It wasn’t her place to say anyway. 

“Do you think they’ll get back together? I mean, they were engaged right.” She continued on as Kim thought about how to answer her question.

Nancy and Jonathan had briefly been engaged, but she’d called it off a few weeks later. Cold feet had certainly been something that Nancy had suffered from, as well as the uncertainty of what their future would hold. 

For some reason, Nancy had begun to worry that she’d made a mistake of breaking up with Steve all those years ago. Apparently it had happened overnight from what Kim had gathered, some sort of dream that she had that made her question everything. Kim still wasn’t completely convinced about Nancy’s feelings and worries, wondering if she’d developed it after her and Jonathan had developed issues in their relationship. 

“Maybe,” Kim shrugged her shoulders as she glanced at both of them again, “I mean, you guys are friends with Jonathan. You’d know more than I would.” She laughed softly, rubbing the back of her shoulders.

“Was it college?” Robin continued as Steve glanced between the two of them. He didn’t look bored, rather interested. Maybe he knew more than he was letting on, “New York is quite the distance.” 

Out of all of them, Kim had been the only one to leave after graduation and get a start on her life. Everyone else chose to remain for a time, which was fine, but it felt odd to come back and everyone was now leaving. She’d definitely missed out on some of the closer friendships. 

“Could’ve been,” she nodded her head as she sighed deeply, “I don’t know, it was a high school romance too. How many of those actually work out?” She questioned as she furrowed her brows together, feeling like it was very unlikely.

“My parents are still together.” Steve spoke up as he pressed his lips together, giving his shoulders a little shrug. Robin turned towards him.

“Yeah and how has that worked out, Harrington?” She questioned as she shook her head, like it was ridiculous for him to say that. Kim pressed her lips together as he mumbled an excuse, wincing at the slight tension that formed.

“Well it’s working out better than my parents' relationships,” she nodded her head, “that’s cute that they’ve been together for that long.” She added, feeling like she needed to fix the situation that she’d started. He gave her a little smile, eyes twinkling warmily at her. 

“Yeah, I guess it is.” A warm smile grew on his lips as he peered at her, tilting his head as she felt her heart hammering out of her chest. Damn him. 

“Anyone in your life?” Robin turned towards her, “I mean, except for your ex and that guy who left those love bites. Which, Jesus dude. That’s a little insane.” She shook her head again, peering at her in disbelief. 

Kim became flustered all over again as her face burned, an awkward laugh rolling off of her tongue. She fussed with her hair as she shook her head, refusing to look Steve in the eye. This was humiliating. 

“No, no one really. I’m just, you know, enjoying the single life.” She spoke with her hands, trying to ignore the way her skin was prickling with embarrassment. She really wanted to know what Steve was thinking, but she couldn’t look at him. 

“You and Steve will get along great then.” Robin snorted as she shook her head, apparently oblivious to what was happening around her. Kim tugged at the ends of her hair before she risked it, taking one last peek in his direction. 

He must’ve been thinking the same thing, because the bastard was smiling at her. He looked a little too thrilled. 

God. 

Kim took a particularly long nap after that, exhaustion settling over her as she tried to forget everything that had happened. If only it was that easy. When she awoke she felt worse than before, though blamed it on the hangover as she inhaled one of Steve’s Gatorades. She felt some relief once they had left for the airport, bidding Robin a long goodbye before trying to deal with the heavy feeling that was resting over her. 

Why did things have to be so complicated? 

Maybe it was the guilt talking, but she felt a need to talk to Nancy. Not to explain herself or what had happened, but she just wanted to talk to her. To make sure that they were still alright even though she knew that they were. She just needed reassurance. 

“Hey,” Nancy sounded slightly out of breath when she answered, leaving Kim curious as to what she was doing, “sorry, the walk to my apartment is on this insane hill.” Kim could sort of picture it as she spread herself across her bed, slightly missing the ability to walk around a city. 

“What’s wrong with your car?” Kim questioned as she tried to keep herself distracted. 

“The exercise is good for me,” she responded with a laugh, “how’s things in Hawkins? I mean, has anything interesting happened?” Kim’s stomach sunk to her feet as she closed her eyes tightly, inhaling sharply. 

Oh something interesting had definitely happened, but there was no way that Kim would be bringing that up. She swallowed her guilt, trying to erase the image of Steve in her mind. She could picture him so clearly right now.

“No,” she lied as she shook her head, twisting her hair around her fingers, “nothing interesting has happened.” Denial made her feel worse, but she couldn’t help herself. She cleared her throat, hoping that she didn’t sound too high pitched. That seemed to happen a lot when she was lying. 

“It’s a very mundane life,” Nancy confirmed, “but I think it fits you.”

“Does it?” Kim laughed as she shook her head when Nancy joined her.

“Not in a bad way,” she added quickly, “but you like things to be easy going.” Yeah, she supposed that was true in some way.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to your busy life,” Kim teased after a while of talking to her, listening to all of the different things that had happened recently. She had a feeling that she was keeping her from something, which she didn’t want to do, “don’t forget to text me.” 

“Says the one that hasn’t responded to me.” Nancy pointed out, making her flush as she thought about it. Yeah, that was true and she didn’t want to give the reason as to why either. Deep down she knew why she’d been too distracted to answer her. 

-

Pepper signaled the return of Steve by barking happily through the living room, her paws tapping loudly off of the tiled floors as the sound of the door shutting rang through the trailer. Kim could hear him praising her, whispering soft things to her before the door opened and he let her out for a while. 

She had fed the animals that night, but she didn’t mind. She was really beginning to become attached to Pepper, which surprised her. She’d never been much of a dog person before, but she was very sweet. 

As if reading her thoughts, Pearl jumped from the bed, her fluffy tail high in the air as she paraded herself out of the room. Kim bit down on her bottom lip before she shuffled back into her blankets, trying to will herself to sleep again.

She’d been tossing and turning for hours now, using anything and everything to try and get her mind off of Steve. Books had been read, shows watched and her favorite music had been blaring until her head ached. None of it helped. It all just brought her back to him.

And she was frustrated, beyond that. There was such an intense desire thumping inside of her that she didn’t know how to control herself. She’d never been this pent up before, this filled with lust. It was driving her crazy.

Steve was making her deranged. 

Her mind kept racing back to the expressions he’d made last night, the sounds and the way he’d kissed her neck this morning. If she closed her eyes hard enough she could picture his lips against hers as she touched her mouth gently, the desire pooling between her legs. -

Perhaps the worst thing was that touching herself brought her no relief at all. It only seemed to make her worse. For the first time she truly felt like she was in a rut, like there was nothing she could do to solve it.

Well, there was one thing she could do.

It felt like her feet had a mind of their own as Kim slowly crept out of the doorway, lingering for just a moment until Steve waved a hand lazily at her. In his other one was a can of beer, which looked ridiculously small in his grip. 

“Was it busy?” Kim mustered up a moment later, hoping she didn’t look too flustered as she invited herself onto the couch. He shifted as he nodded his head, taking another gulp of his beer before setting it on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” he chuckled as he wiped the liquid away with the palm of his hand, “luckily I just had to drop her off though. Thanks for feeding Pepper.”

“I don’t mind,” she nodded her head softly, “she’s sweet, I like taking care of her.” She admitted as she did her best not to concentrate on the way his lips curled into a little smile. Then he shifted closer to her, resting his arm on the couch behind her. 

The room was suddenly spinning as the tension between them grew as if on instinct. A shaky gasp fell from her as her body burned with lust when she met his hazel eyes, savoring the soft look he gave her as he tilted his head. 

“Why are you up so late? Usually you’re asleep by now.” He pointed out as he wrapped his fingers around her red curls, giving them a soft tug. She bit down on her bottom lip. 

“I was watching-,” Kim froze for a moment, lost in his eyes, “baseball. I was watching baseball. You know, you might need some pointers or something.” She added with a nod of her head, gulping roughly. Steve chuckled.

“I didn’t know a game was on tonight, who was playing?” He teased as he dropped his other hand against her exposed thigh, giving her a soft squeeze.

The touch of him radiated through her entire body, though lingered between her legs as she choked back a moan. Her clit was throbbing against her panties as the lust grew inside of her, insatiable. 

“I’ve been trying to distract myself,” she admitted, heart hammering roughly in her chest as her tongue slowly became untangled, “I’ve just been feeling a lot I guess.” The sentence flowed off of her tongue as a whisper as their eyes locked.

Steve moved the hand that was behind her head up towards her face, gently brushing the loose strands off of her forehead as she peered at him in pure fascination. She’d never seen someone so handsome before, and she truly meant that. No one else really compared to him, even in Chicago. Not even her ex had been as attractive as he was.

Kim’s eyes fell to his lips, how they were the perfect cupids bow and the prettiest shade of pink. She’d never seen such a lovelier pair of lips before. Her mouth burned as she recalled the way they’d kissed, how he’d held onto her and poured all of his passion into it. 

“Feeling what kind of things?” Steve questioned lightly, brows slightly furrowed as he looked at her in confusion. He let out a soft chuckle, like he didn’t fully understand. But she thought he did. 

No words fell from her lips as she brought her fingers down across her collarbones, tickling at her skin before she dipped them down lower. His eyes fell to her motions fervently, the color darkening with lust as she dragged her hands across her perky boobs. 

A heavenly groan left his mouth as he continued to move his eyes with her motions, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as she rubbed her fingers across her thighs while squeezing her legs together. The only cool part of her body was when her feet hit the floor, everything else was on fire as she began to strip in front of her.

Steve shifted, mouth dropping in bliss as his eyes lingered on her boobs before scanning the rest of her body, shaking his head like he was in disbelief. Then he shifted to palm at his bulge, groaning lowly as he continued to admire her.

“S’pretty, so fucking beautiful,” he told her in a hushed tone as she pushed her hair off of her neck, biting back a bashful grin before she joined him on the couch, “Christ, I’m so hard. Shit.” He moaned as a desperate look crossed his features, his tongue flicking out against his bottom lip. His eyes lingered as she continued to drag her hands across her curves, a smile forming as she was sure he desired to do the same thing. 

“Let me see.” A coo left her as she brushed her finger across one of her nipples, sighing at the contact. Steve observed her in fascination, tugging his shirt off over his head and wasting no time to strip the rest of himself. 

Kim’s mouth watered as his cock popped free, a whiny sigh leaving her as she stared in awe at how hard he was already. He wasn’t kidding, which only made her feel even more flattered. She liked knowing that she had that effect on him, that he was just as insatiable as she was. 

She longed to reach forward to touch the thick hair on his chest, to travel the dark trail all the way down. A shaky sigh left him as he squeezed at the base of his cock again, precum leaking from his red tip. He was already messy, slick with his own desire. 

Their eyes locked again, but this time it was as if invisible strings brought them closer together. Electricity spread through her as his warm skin brushed against hers, just as hot and sweaty. She hoped that this meant he’d been just as desperate, that he’d wanted her just as badly. 

Her mouth was cool around her fingers as she licked them slowly, heart hammering as his eyes lingered hungrily at her movements. She felt as if her skin was on fire as she pulled her knees up towards her chest, spreading her legs so he could get enough look as she gently brought the tip of her finger against her needy clit.

A whiny moan left her mouth as her brows furrowed together, clit throbbing against her touch as she slowly began to rub at the sensitive bud. Her legs jumped from the sensation, body humming in heavenly pleasure. 

Steve’s breath was ragged as he gave the base of his cock one last squeeze before bringing his hand up towards his mouth. He lingered for a moment before holding his palm out towards her, leaving her briefly confused.

“Spit.” He demanded, eyes heavy and dark as he waited expectantly. His tone was stern, sure as her stomach flipped. 

Kim puckered her lips as she leaned into his palm, eyes locking on his before she spit once, then again. A rough exhale left him as he tilted his head back, still watching her as he smeared her spit along the curve of his cock.

The desire inside of her was almost unbearable as she slid two fingers into her slick hole, whimpering at the way her walls stretched around her digits. Though it did nothing to soothe the ache that was burning deep inside her.

It was like he knew that too as he tilted his head in her direction, sighing deeply as his eyes lingered across her lips and tits. His fingers wrapped easily along his cock as he stroked himself to the motions of her fingers, the tip of his cock leaking precum.

She was drenched around her fingers as she curled them deeper inside of herself, whining as her gaze popped back and forth from his face to his cock. His fingers were long around his thick girth, squeezing a little tighter at the tip of his cock before dragging his fist back down to the base of his cock. Her eyes lingered against his balls for a moment, how they were drenched from the mixture of them. 

The sounds of their pleasure mingled with the harmony of their bodies, leaving little to her imagination as she pictured Steve on top of her. She could see it so clearly, could nearly feel him crowding in on her and taking over all of her senses. She wondered if he’d watch her as intensely, or if he’d close his eyes in pleasure like he had when he’d thought she’d been sleeping.

Kim cried out as she curled her fingers deep inside of her spongy falls, whimpering at the way he groaned in response. He looked just as wrecked as she felt; all flushed and sweaty, eyes dark and lustful as an awestruck expression flourished on his pretty features. Something intimate spread through her as the tension between them grew; moving in sync.

A spark raced through her when his free hand fell against her thigh, fingers digging into her flesh as a wanton moan left his lips; all whiny and sultry. She gasped loudly as her mind grew foggy with pleasure, moving blindly before she realized what she was doing. She was acting on her own desires, her own bliss. 

She reached for him, fingers stretching round his thick girth as a hum raced through her body. Her thighs squeezed together at the heavenly sound that left his lips, how the pleasure increased on his features and he jerked his hips up to meet her motions. He temporarily fell apart as she whined as she dragged her hand slowly along the curve of his cock. He felt even bigger in her hand, his dick warm and slick as she stroked him slowly. He was thicker along the middle of his cock, leaving her even more desperate to feel him inside of her. 

Steve’s eyes were even darker as he dragged his hand up her thigh as she slowly retreated her own fingers from her slick hole. Anticipation grew inside of her as she continued to jerk him off, enjoying the way he was struggling to remain composed. The tips of his fingers brushed along her folds softly, rubbing at her clit softly before he was dragging a finger across her cunt. 

“Fuck. Is this all for me, Kimmy?” His tone was raspy, like he was pleading with her. There was no lying, however. She’d been like this for hours. 

The nickname made her shiver as he nodded her head bashfully, answering with a croon as he brushed two of his fingers across her entrance. His eyes locked on hers as he stuck his tongue out in concentrating, exhaling slowly. His fingers slid into her easily, long and thick as her walls stretched around his digits. Her lips parted as a shaky moan rolled from her tongue, brows furrowed as he buried his fingers deep inside of her.

Her thighs shook, knees coming close together as the pleasure radiated inside of her. Kim couldn’t believe that he was having such an effect on her when he was only fingering her. She’d never felt this good before with her ex, not ever. The passion was something else entirely, something she’d been searching her whole life for.  

The muscles in her stomach were already clenching in anticipation as she began to rut herself up against the curve of his fingers, whining at the way he curled them deep inside of her. Rough pants fell from her lips as she licked away the drool from her mouth, stunned at the pleasure that was burning inside of her. 

Her hand moved quicker as the waves of bliss grew inside of her, crashing deeply as he continued to drag his fingers in and out of her soaked pussy. She was drenched around him, coating his fingers completely as she continued to meet his movements. 

He leaned in closer as his warm breath coated her face, sharing a moan with her as her walls clamped down around his fingers. Her hand squeezed around his cock as her body trembled, her orgasm crashing over her quickly as she squealed and squirmed against him. 

It was almost ridiculous how hard she came from him, how her body continued to shiver when he cooed and whispered soft praises to her. There was no reason he should have such an effect on her, yet she found herself craving more. Wanting more. 

Like she’d never get enough.

The sounds of his moans filled her ears as he began to thrust up to meet the movements of her hand. His fingers were still curling softly against her bundle of nerves, continuing to make her see stars as she came down from her high. His thrusts became more desperate, his hand overtaking hers as he began to guide her along his cock faster. 

Steve tilted towards her, hips angled and the tip of his cock dangerously close to her folds. A spark of excitement rushed through her as she wondered if he was going to press himself into her slick walls; really take her.

Kim didn’t have time to feel disappointment as he moaned wantonly, looking at her desperately and full of awe as ropes of cum shot out against her pussy. She gasped at the sensation as she looked down, squirming, at the mess he’d made on her. It amazed her that there was so much of it.

“Fuck.” She cursed, whining as he brought his large fingers down to smear the cum into her skin. His ragged sigh made her body jolt as he touched her cunt slowly, getting her all messy and coated in him.

Everything inside of her was buzzing with electricity, with emotions that she didn’t know how to fully explain as he pulled his long fingers from her cunt. She shook from the sensation, whining at the loss of contact. A little smirk pulled onto his lips as he licked his fingers clean again, making a whole show of it.

She was going to die. That was certain. 

Focusing on that was difficult when he looked so pretty now, so wrecked. His features were flushed and slightly sweaty, his hair slightly stuck to his forehead. His lips were slick and swollen, eyes still warm and dark. She wanted nothing more than to push forward and taste herself on his lips, determined to kiss away all of her worries. 

It took everything in her to look away from him, to remember what she was doing and who she was doing it with. It didn’t matter if she lost her self control, this was wrong. Nancy was her best friend and she shouldn’t be betraying her like this. Even though the guilt didn’t hit her nearly as hard, barely at all. 

And she should feel bad. She knew that, so why didn’t she? Where was the guilt to eat her up this time around? Somehow that was even worse. She needed to feel terrible, and needed to be reminded of what she was doing. Nancy would be devastated if she knew.

“This can’t happen again.” Kim finally mustered up the courage to speak once she wasn’t so breathless. Steve turned towards her curiously, skin still flushed.

“Because of Nancy.” His statement was simple, like he’d been thinking the same thing. She nodded her head stiffly.

“She can’t know-,”

“She won’t,” he shrugged quickly, flicking his eyes down as he rubbed the back of his neck to hide his expression, “yeah, alright. Have a good night, Kim.” He held onto his knees as he stood, shaking his head before gathering his clothes and walking off.

Guilt and shame finally ate at her as she watched him walk off, her heart crumbling into tiny pieces as the dagger of regret twisted in her chest. Worry nipped at her too, afraid that she’d hurt him. She felt even worse than before, like she’d made everything even more complicated than it was. 

Taglist: @libbyeaston @corrodeddeadlydoll @cristy-l-blog @lizzieravenxo @diffrent-spokes @spacecadet-dot-net @strangegirl26sff @vehementlyelectrifiedknowledge @stoneyggirl2

Edited by @djohours :)

[cintoasted]

warnings: non con. dub con. incest. guardian / ward relationship. side affects of herbs (almost like aphrodisiacs). manipulated reader. heavy smut. mdni. 18+

a/n: guys i need him and ormund like the air i breathe, but why do i imagine gwayne just like being evil but more submissive, like apologising about it because he knows it’s wrong but he can’t help himself. anyway going to open my inbox soon for drabble ideas only, will do a separate post for who i'm willing to write for.

gwayne's grip on your hips is bruising as he holds you in place against the bed. even without his hands keeping you there, his weight would do the trick, his body heavy as it rests against yours.

your flush against each other, skin damp with sweat of your endeavours. one hand is at his shoulder, nails breaking the skin as you cling to him, while the other is pressed between you, frantically trying to push his torso away from you.

to anyone that dared to walk in you might look like lovers, completely lost in each other's embrace. but that is far from the truth.

it is your uncle that lays upon you, face nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your scent like the air he breathes. the man that raised you, taught you in the faith and agreed with his cousin that Targaryen inbreeding was a wicked thing.

the same man is rutting inside of you, delivering thrusts that border on painful over and over again like he can't help it. like he'd die if he stopped.

some part of you believes it.

you heard what the maesters said, the side affects the medicinal herbs might give him. but after five moons at war, returning to you bruised and broken, dragging his lifeless body through the halls, he needed them. needed them to mend the broken bones and bruised flesh.

and it worked, but then came the after affects, the sweats, the blackened pupils and the dark stare as he watched you across the table.

you should have known not to open the door, should have known that he'd be unable to control himself.

couldn't he have found another? was there not an abundance of women that swooned at his feet.

alas here he is, buried in you, attached to you like he's apart of you. he always said you were his favourite girl, his good girl, his girl. maybe it was only a matter of time till you were going to become truly his.

he lifts his head, lips grazing the subtle skin of your neck and sitting them just below your ear.

"you're so good to me," he groans, forcing his hips against you harder. "my girl. my sweet girl."

it hurt at first, when he forced himself into you. you cried, blood dripping out from you and staining the sheets. and all he could say was sorry, repeating the word repeatedly until the pain faded and the pleasure came. hot and heavy, leaving a puddle beneath you of your own ruin.

and it grows with every thrust, every time his fingers reach between you and play with your sensitive nub, every time he presses his open lips to your wet skin and whispers, his girl.

but now there's a different pain, an ache in the limbs and tiredness as your wet eyes close over. one that screams to put an end to this, to give you some sort of mercy.

"please," you plead, eyelashes thick with tears. "please just—"

his lips fall against yours, hungry and wanting as he forces a kiss upon you. you can barely breathe, and when you try to turn your face to the side he follows you, not allowing you any reprieve.

before you realise it, he's taken advantage of the sudden distraction, folding your legs till your thighs are flush against the sheets, knees poking into your ribcage and ankles over his shoulder. you gasp at how deep he pushes in now, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. everything begins to feel more intense, his tip prodding at a part of you that makes your body freeze.

“breathe,” gwayne begs of you, all while forcing another hungry kiss onto your mouth.

you try, gasping for air the moment his mouth detaches from yours, only for him to close the distance a mere few moments later.

you scream into his mouth, cry. but the sound is muffled and at another thrust your thighs are quivering in his hold, walls squeezing him like they'd rather keep him there, then let him go.

all you can do is take it, even as the light of the morning breaks through into the room, and your eyes struggle to fight sleep. until someone finds you like this, trapped between your uncle and the bed he lay you on.

dividers by @/chrisssiren

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