#i might finally start liking flash thompson

[mxnlgmy]

i’m all yours, i’ve got no control (part 2)

gif not mine

part 1 here!

summary: after a mission leaves peter shaken and unstable, (y/n)’s told to keep her distance for his safety and hers. but when he shows up at her door in the middle of the night, trembling and barely holding on, it becomes clear: this is more than just recovery. whatever’s happening to him, it’s changing everything. and he only wants one thing to feel whole again — her.

pairing: peter parker x fem! reader

genre: SMUT, little bit of angst and soft post-chaos fluff

word count: 4.2k

warnings: sex pollen, explicit smut, soft!dom peter, praise kink, overstimulation, (mild) feral behavior, public(ish) elevator sex, avengers cameos lol, mentions of broken furniture (rip stark tower)

a/n: i'm sorry this part took so long. uni’s been hectic, but we’re finally on break YAYY. i really hope this chapter was worth the wait. thank u so much for all the love on part 1. feedback is welcome, and i love hearing from you guys. enjoy the chaos, the smut, and the soft moments. luv y’all <33

MINORS DNI

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

(Y/N) had always considered herself fairly resilient.

She’d once broken her wrist during a Krav Maga sparring match and didn’t even cry. She’d stared down a HYDRA drone at age sixteen. She’d even taken a punch from Flash Thompson in tenth grade and had the satisfaction of watching Peter make him regret it thirty seconds later.

But this?

This was worse than all of that combined.

Because (Y/N) — twenty, deeply in love, and sore in places she didn’t know could be sore; was now sitting in a wheelchair. Wrapped in one of Peter’s too-large MIT hoodies. Looking like she’d been hit by a truck. Or, more accurately, Spider-Man on sex pollen.

And worst of all?

The Avengers were here.

Steve Rogers stood frozen near the doorway, blinking slowly like he’d walked in on something unseeable. Clint was choking on his own laughter in the corner. Bruce had turned pink and immediately started scribbling on a clipboard, eyes anywhere but on her. And Tony — oh, Tony — was pacing in front of her like a dad trying not to explode after catching his teenage kid sneaking in after curfew.

(Y/N)’s face was in her hands.

Peter, for his part, stood behind her chair. His hands gripping the handles like she might try to escape which was hilarious, considering she couldn’t feel her legs. He looked suspiciously proud for someone who was technically in trouble.

Tony finally turned to him.

“Kid. The hell.”

Peter cleared his throat. “So uh… Funny story.”

“No,” Tony said immediately. “No stories. I don’t want the details. I can see the details. They’re written all over her face and, Jesus, is that a bite mark on her neck?!”

(Y/N) groaned. “Please kill me.”

“You broke containment,” Tony continued, glaring now. “You ignored protocol, FRIDAY’s lockdown measures, and about five separate international-level agreements about containment of extraterrestrial biological influence-”

“I was fine Mr. Stark,” Peter insisted. “FRIDAY ran the scans. The compound was harmless once uh… once the effects were…” He paused, glancing down at (Y/N), and his voice dropped into something almost sheepish. “…resolved.”

“I hate that you used that word,” Clint muttered.

Steve sighed deeply. “How many rounds?”

(Y/N) made a sound of pure horror.

Peter blinked. “…I lost count after four.”

Bruce made a tiny squeak. Tony pointed at the ceiling.

“FRIDAY, disable his access to the main lab for a week. And get this boy a goddamn chastity belt.”

“I hate all of you,” (Y/N) mumbled into her hoodie.

“You’re still glowing, by the way,” Clint added helpfully. “And is that bed frame broken? Did you — oh man.”

Peter rubbed the back of his neck. “It was an accident.”

“I’m never looking either of you in the eye again,” Bruce muttered as he fled the room.

A heavy pause followed. Then—

“So,” came Thor’s booming voice from the hallway, “is this what Midgardian mating rituals typically entail? Because I must say, I am very impressed.”

(Y/N) groaned louder. “Oh my God.”

The God of Thunder stepped into view, completely unbothered, munching on a Pop-Tart like he hadn’t just wandered into post-coital ground zero. “Truly,” he added, nodding solemnly, “a bed shattered by pure passion is the mark of a warrior. I applaud you both.”

“Thor, stop,” Peter hissed, mortified.

“Don’t encourage them,” Tony snapped, spinning toward the Asgardian. “This was your idea, by the way. ‘Let’s bring the sex pollen infested kid back to the lab, Stark! He’s perfectly harmless!’”

Thor looked affronted. “I said it was harmless in theory,” Thor repeated indignantly, waving his half-eaten Pop-Tart. “How was I to know Midgardians lacked the willpower to resist such effects?”

Tony stared at him. “They just turned 20, Thor. Barely adults, still act like teenagers. Their willpower barely exists on a good day.”

“I am standing right here,” Peter muttered, red-faced.

(Y/N) buried her face further into her hoodie. “This is the worst day of my life.”

Nat leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, smirking. “I’m just surprised Peter’s still standing. You looked like you’d been folded in half, (Y/N).”

“I was,” Y/N muttered, drawing the hoodie tighter around herself like it could erase her from existence. “Multiple times.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve muttered, now holding a hand over his eyes. “I’ve seen war. I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Oh, we’re never letting this go,” Tony declared, already pulling up the holographic footage of the compound logs. “I’m naming this Incident Spider-Bang. Don’t test me.”

Peter groaned. “Please don’t name it.”

“Too late,” Tony said smugly.

“I’m going to die,” (Y/N) muttered. “Right here in this wheelchair.”

Thor clapped Peter on the shoulder so hard he stumbled. “Well done, son of Parker. You have honored your lady most gloriously. Truly, this day shall be sung about for ages.”

“No one is singing about this,” Peter said, face red as his suit.

“Oh, I am absolutely writing a ballad,” Clint said, taking out his phone. “Do you rhyme anything with ‘broken pelvis’? Because I feel like that’s important context.”

Steve let out a long, long breath and rubbed his temples. “I miss the days when the biggest scandal was someone stealing Cap’s shield to impress a girl.”

FRIDAY chimed in politely, “Would you like me to initiate a search for suitable chastity belt models, Mr. Stark?”

Tony blinked. “You know what? Yeah. Go nuts.”

Peter muttered something unintelligible and slumped further behind (Y/N)’s chair. She reached up to squeeze his hand. Both of them humiliated, exhausted, and deeply aware that this would never be forgotten.

The moment was silent for a beat.

Then Clint snorted. “So, what you’re saying is… sex pollen actually works?”

Tony turned to him slowly. “Get. Out.”

And just like that, chaos resumed.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

Once the room was cleared — save for Peter, who looked like he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or kiss her forehead again — (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

“I can’t believe I let you touch me.”

He leaned down, brushing her hair back gently. “You did more than let me, baby.”

“Shut up.”

“You came so hard you saw stars.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker-”

“You said I could break you and worship you,” he whispered, lips near her ear. “And I did both, didn’t I?”

Her body betrayed her with a shiver.

Peter’s expression softened, guilt flickering in his eyes.

“But seriously… are you okay?”

She nodded, more or less. “Sore. Emotionally scarred. But fine.”

He knelt beside the chair, resting his head on her thigh. “I’m sorry I scared you. And for everything else… the mission, disappearing, the tower locking you out. I wanted you near me so bad it felt like I was dying.”

“I know,” she said softly. “You didn’t choose what happened to you. But you still asked for consent. Even when your body was screaming for it.”

He looked up at her, eyes wide. “Of course I did. (Y/N), I would never touch you without-”

She kissed him, shutting him up. “I know. That’s why I trusted you.”

His cheeks flushed.

Then, after a beat: “Does this mean I’m not in trouble?”

“No. You’re in so much trouble,” she said sweetly. “But we’ll circle back once I can walk again.”

He groaned and kissed her knee.

Two hours later, MJ and Ned showed up.

(Y/N) was still in the wheelchair, now in a different hoodie (Peter’s, of course), with a pillow wedged under her thighs, sipping tea like her dignity hadn’t just been shattered. Peter sat beside her, one hand gripping hers like he was afraid she might float away.

Ned entered first. Cheery and oblivious, and then immediately stopped.

MJ followed. Looked between them. And smirked.

“Oh my god,” Ned whispered.

Peter cleared his throat. “Hi.”

“You broke her pelvis,” MJ said flatly, one eyebrow raised.

“I did not-” Peter started, scandalized.

“I literally had to be wheeled in,” (Y/N) muttered into her tea.

Ned choked on his own spit. “What the hell did you do to her, dude?!”

Peter turned bright red. “Okay — look, it’s a long story, but-”

“You went full freak mode, didn’t you,” MJ said, narrowing her eyes. “The spider-senses. The pheromones. I knew this would happen.”

“Actually, it was due to a sex poll-” (Y/N) started, only for MJ to wave a hand.

“Save it. Honestly, I’m not even mad. I’m just surprised the tower is still standing.”

Peter buried his face in (Y/N) shoulder. “I’m never living this down.”

MJ smirked. “Correct.”

Later that night, after MJ and Ned had left with entirely too much ammunition, Peter helped (Y/N) into bed.

His eyes were softer now. No hunger. Just devotion.

“You okay?”

“Still can’t walk. But you’ve asked me that six times.”

“I’m just making sure,” he said quietly. “Because part of me is still terrified that I lost control.”

She touched his cheek. “You didn’t. You were you, Peter. Even when you were wrecked.”

“I didn’t mean to break the bed.”

She laughed, even as her hips protested the movement. “We’ll bill Mr. Stark.”

He smiled faintly, then lay beside her, arms wrapping gently around her waist. His hand found hers under the covers.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I said it a hundred times last night, but… I’ll say it again. I love you.”

She turned to him, heart full.

“I love you too, Peter. Even when you’re feral.”

He kissed her shoulder.

And despite the soreness, the exhaustion, the lingering embarrassment — she felt safe.

Like maybe, in all the chaos, they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

By the third day, (Y/N) was walking again.

Not well. Not fast. But upright.

She shuffled down the Stark Tower hallway in her softest sweats, hair piled in a bun, and a slight wobble in her step in which Peter noticed instantly.

He nearly dropped his breakfast burrito.

“Are you — wait, are you walking?”

“I’m limping,” she corrected, gripping the wall as she moved toward the kitchen. “There’s a difference.”

Peter was at her side in two seconds, one hand on her lower back, the other hovering like he wanted to catch her if she so much as sneezed wrong. “You should’ve called me. You didn’t have to walk all the way here.”

“You were across the hall, not on Mars.”

“You limped across the hall,” he murmured, voice low, soft. “Because of me.”

She turned to him slowly. “Yeah. Because of what you did to me.”

He froze.

Her voice was different this morning. Still soft, still teasing. But there was an edge to it. A heat beneath the words. And Peter, hypersensitive still from the leftover side effects of that damn alien pollen, felt it.

Felt her.

Her scent, warm and familiar like home, wrapped around him like a noose. Not the choking kind, but the kind that tugged him closer, coaxing him to lean in and never pull away. It was her, entirely her, and it hit him like gravity, pulling him down. Every nerve in his body lit up. The air between them thinned. 

(Y/N) smirked. “You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”

Peter swallowed. “I — uh… maybe-”

She stepped closer. Her fingers danced along the hem of his MIT hoodie — her hoodie, technically, but it had always smelled like him. “You broke the bed, Parker. Left me walking funny for two days.”

“I know, and I’m sor-”

“I didn’t say I minded.”

Peter blinked. “…what?”

She pressed up onto her toes, whispering into his ear, “I liked the way you begged. I liked when you asked for permission to wreck me. Like you couldn’t breathe until I said yes.”

His knees nearly gave out.

“Baby,” he whispered, jaw tight. “Please. You can’t do this right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because Steve is in the other room. And if you keep talking like that, I’m gonna throw you on the nearest surface and-”

She leaned in closer, lips brushing his jaw. “You think I’d mind?”

Peter whimpered.

They didn’t even make it out of the hallway.

(Y/N) shoved him into the elevator with trembling hands and fire in her eyes. She pressed all the buttons in a hurry. The doors slid shut, sealing them inside that small, mirrored box; and she didn’t hesitate.

She grabbed his hoodie, fisting the fabric, and kissed him like she’d been holding her breath since the last time their bodies collided. Peter responded instantly, lips crashing against hers with a bruising, aching need. His hands flying to her hips, gripping like she might vanish.

Her hands were everywhere — on his jaw, in his hair, under his hoodie. She tugged it up, fingers skating along his stomach, memorizing the planes of muscle like she’d been starved of him. And maybe she had. Three days of tension, of silence, of his gentle hands and guilty eyes, had burned between them like a fuse. It was snapping now. Loud. Violent. Beautiful.

“You’re so mean,” he gasped between kisses. “You know what you do to me. You know.”

“You’ve been babying me for days,” she whispered, licking into his mouth. “I needed to remind you I can make you fall apart too.”

He shuddered.

“You’ve been so sweet,” she continued, brushing her lips along his ear. “So careful. Like I’m glass.”

“I’m trying to behave,” he panted, forehead falling against hers. “I told myself I’d let you rest, give you time, be good-”

“But you’re not good, are you?” she said sweetly, grinding her hips into his. “You’re so close to snapping.”

Her hips rolled against his, deliberately slow, deliberately cruel. The friction was just enough to make him whimper. 

“I needed to remind you,” she said, eyes locked on his. “That I can take it. That I want all of you.”

She ground against him again, slower this time, letting the drag of her body against his show him exactly what she meant. His breath hitched.

Peter’s whole body shuddered. “I’m gonna fucking cry.”

“You’re holding back,” she whispered. “But I don’t want you to.”

He dropped to his knees. Not out of dominance. Not even out of lust. It was reverence. He looked up at her like she hung the stars, hands settling on her hips like they were meant to be there.

“Wait, Peter — what are you —”

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered as his hands wrapped around her thighs, pushing her up against the wall as he nuzzled against her center through her sweats. “I’ve been aching for this. Let me make you come. Please. Right here. Just one. Just let me taste-”

“Peter,” she gasped and stared at him, shocked by the sheer desperation in his voice, the way he trembled under the weight of wanting her.

“Say yes,” he begged, looking up at her. “Say yes and I’ll be gentle. I’ll be sweet. I’ll lick you until you forget where we are.”

Her breath caught.

“Say no,” he whispered, “and I’ll stop. I swear. But please don’t say no.”

Her fingers threaded into his curls. “Yes,” she said, voice barely more than a breath. “Yes, Peter.”

That was all he needed.

Her sweats were gone in one swift pull, her underwear with them, and he didn’t waste a second. His mouth was on her, hot and soft and relentless. She gasped, knees buckling slightly as his tongue parted her, licking slow and deep. He moaned like her taste was everything he’d ever wanted, like it had been haunting him since the moment he walked out of that bedroom.

The elevator kept rising, but she didn’t care. Couldn’t even think. Peter’s tongue was hot and wet and sinful against her, licking and sucking like he was worshipping, and she felt herself coming undone fast — faster than she expected.

His grip tightened on her thighs as she rocked against his face, her fingers buried in his hair, anchoring herself to something real while the world spun. 

Her hips bucked. He held her down.

“You taste so good,” he groaned, licking deeper. “You always do. I’ll never get enough.”

“Peter — someone might —“ she whimpered, voice cracking.

“I don’t care,” he said, voice raw. “Let them see. Let them see how good I make you feel,” he murmured between strokes, his lips slick and reverent. “I could die right here and not regret a thing.”

She was already close. Too close. It was overwhelming; his tongue, his praise, the look in his eyes every time he glanced up at her. And when he moaned again, dragging the flat of his tongue against her with long, desperate strokes, she snapped.

Her back hit the mirror. Her hips jerked. She cried out, clutching his curls and Peter just held her there, groaning against her as if her pleasure was enough to undo him completely.

She came with a sharp cry as her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, legs trembling, and Peter moaned against her. Seeing her become undone fed something inside him.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were swollen, cheeks flushed, and breathing ragged. 

And he was so hard it looked painful.

“(Y/N),” he panted, standing slowly, hands finding her waist again like he was afraid to let go. “Please.”

“What do you need?”

“You. All of you. Right now, please.”

“Then take me.”

They didn’t make it to a bed this time.

He spun her gently, pressing her against the mirrored wall. She could see their reflection now. Her flushed cheeks, his blown pupils, the way his hands trembled slightly as they gripped her hips.

He pulled his sweats low enough, lined himself up, and pushed inside with one slow, careful thrust. They both gasped — not from pain, but from relief. From finally giving in.

Peter stilled, forehead resting on her shoulder. His hands held her hips like glass. “Tell me if I go too far.”

“You won’t,” she moaned, backing into him. “I want all of it.”

He moved slowly at first, savoring the drag of her around him, the sounds she made, the way her breath hitched every time he bottomed out.

But (Y/N) pushed back harder. “More.”

He gripped her hips tighter.

“Say it again.”

“Harder, Peter. I can take it. I want it.”

That did it.

The pace shifted; deeper, rougher, desperate. Each thrust came with a groan, a whispered confession, a kiss to her shoulder. His grip was bruising, but careful. His mouth trailed along her neck as he moved, panting her name like it was the only word he remembered.

“You feel so good,” he panted. “So perfect. You were made for me.”

“You’re ruining me in an elevator,” she gasped. “What would the Avengers think?”

“That I’m the luckiest man alive,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her neck. “And that you’re everything.”

She clenched around him — tight, pulsing — and he lost all rhythm.

“I’m close,” he gasped, voice breaking. “I love you. I love you so much, I — ”

He came with a cry, buried deep inside her, his whole body trembling as he wrapped his arms around her from behind like she was the only thing holding him up.

The elevator dinged.

Peter caught her before she could collapse, holding her against his chest, breathing her in.

“I didn’t mean for it to be like that,” he whispered. “I’m sorry if-”

She silenced him with a kiss. “You don’t ever have to apologize for loving me like that.”

His eyes were glassy. “I just wanted to be good.”

“You are, Peter,” she promised, and smiled. Her hands went to cup his jaw. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

For once, Stark Tower was quiet.

Peter sat in Tony’s office, fidgeting with a stress cube that clicked with every twitch of his fingers. Across from him, Tony stared silently, sipping scotch at ten in the morning like it was coffee.

“You done wrecking my furniture?” he finally asked.

Peter coughed. “Yeah… For now.”

Tony’s brow raised. “So you’re saying you’re open to a payment plan.”

“I can… fix the frame?” Peter offered. “And the wall. And the door. And probably part of the ceiling.”

“You dented the ceiling?”

Peter turned red. “I had enhanced strength and a biological mating drive, Mr. Stark. What do you want from me?”

“Control,” Tony said, setting the glass down. “Which you miraculously still had, apparently. You could’ve hurt her.”

“I’d rather die.”

Tony didn’t smile. But his expression softened just slightly.

“Look. I’m not gonna give you the sex talk. God knows your girlfriend already limped through the aftermath, but if you’re gonna keep getting tangled up in Avengers-level bullshit, you need to be prepared for what happens when biology, stress, and superpowers mix.”

Peter nodded.

“Does she know what she signed up for?” Tony asked.

Peter thought of (Y/N)’s hands. Her voice. Her eyes when she told him yes, every single time.

“She knows,” Peter said. “She always knows.”

Tony grunted. “Good. Then stop breaking my elevators.”

Meanwhile, MJ had cornered (Y/N) in the media room with a chai latte and a face that screamed we’re gonna talk about it whether you like it or not.

“So,” she said, sitting cross-legged beside her. “You okay?”

(Y/N) blinked. “You mean emotionally? Or like… still wobbly from getting my soul rearranged?”

“Both.”

“I’m okay,” (Y/N) said softly. “Tired. Sore. And a little stunned that Tony didn’t have me escorted out by force.”

MJ smirked. “He likes you. Hates to admit it, but you ground Peter. He gets… weird without you.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) whispered. “I noticed.”

MJ nudged her shoulder. “Was it weird weird? Or like, ‘you’d do it again if no one was watching’ weird?”

“MJ!” (Y/N)’s hands flew to her face as it flushed bright red.

“What? I was just asking.” MJ grinned unapologetically. “You’re glowing, babe. I had to check in.”

(Y/N) gave her a look but then her expression softened. A shy, faraway smile tugged at her lips.

“It wasn’t even about the sex,” she murmured. “I mean yeah, it was insane, but it was how he looked at me. Like I was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.”

MJ’s smirk faded into something gentler.

“He begged for my consent like it was air,” (Y/N) continued. “Even when he could barely think straight. He could’ve snapped, but he didn’t. He held on for me.”

“That’s love, babe,” MJ said quietly. “The real kind.”

(Y/N) nodded. “It really is.”

MJ handed her the chai. “You deserve it.”

(Y/N) smiled. “So do you.”

MJ leaned her head on her shoulder. “Okay, well now I’m gonna cry. And you still look like you’ve been thoroughly railed, so let’s call it even.”

They both burst out laughing.

That night, (Y/N) found Peter on the rooftop, hoodie pulled up over his curls, the wind ruffling the hem as the lights of New York buzzed quietly below them. He stood near the edge, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

She stepped beside him, the cool air catching strands of her hair.

“You’re brooding,” she said gently.

“I’m recovering from being the Tower menace.”

She smiled. “You’re not. Well… maybe a little.”

He glanced at her, his expression serious. “I keep thinking about what could’ve happened. If I’d lost control.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I could have.”

She reached up, cupping his jaw. Her thumb brushed along the edge of his cheekbone.

“You gave me the choice. Every time. You never took.”

Peter’s eyes searched hers, shimmering in the rooftop glow.

“I wanted to make love to you,” he whispered. “Even when I was losing it. Especially then. It was never just about the heat. It was you. It’s always been you.”

“You did,” she whispered back. “You made me feel safe. Wanted. Like I was yours… in the softest way.”

A long silence fell between them, full but comforting.

Then she tilted her head. “Come to bed?”

Peter took her hand, kissing the back of it. “Yeah. Okay.”

This time, there was no frenzy. No tearing of clothes. No desperation.

Just quiet hands. Warm skin. Deep breaths in the dark.

They laid tangled in the sheets, their limbs wrapped around each other like vines. Peter pulled her close, bare chests pressed together, and kissed her temple.

“You’re my home,” he whispered.

(Y/N) smiled sleepily, resting her head against his chest.

“Then you’d better get used to me being around,” she mumbled. “Because I’m never leaving.”

He didn’t say anything. Just held her tighter.

Outside, the city kept buzzing; neon lights flickering, taxis flying past, voices echoing through the streets.

But inside, in the quiet of her arms, the world slowed down.

It was warm, gentle, and safe.

She was curled into him like she belonged there, like she’d always known where to fit — and Peter didn’t need spider-sense to feel it. He just knew.

Her fingers rested over his heart. His breathing matched hers.

And for the first time in a long, long while, he wasn’t thinking about saving the world.

He was thinking about her laugh. Her skin. The way she looked at him like he was worth loving, even when he didn’t believe it himself.

And just like that, with her heartbeat beneath his fingertips, her presence filling every quiet corner of him — Peter finally, finally felt like he wasn’t falling.

He was home.

[sciderman]

Sci, have you read venom 161 164 and 165? You should read them.

ah.. wholesome mpreg...

[thollandsgirl2013]

𝐀 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → fluffy fluff, Flash

Summary → You forgot your sports bra for gym class but Peter is there to save the day.

The sun peeked over the rooftops of Midtown High School, casting a warm glow over the students gathered outside for gym class. Today’s challenge: a run through the vibrant streets of New York City. The gym teacher, Mr. Wilson's whistle blew, and students took off, their sneakers pounding against the pavement.

You sighed as you began to walk quickly rather than run. You had forgotten your sports bra that morning, and each step sent a painful reminder through your chest. Running was out of the question. You were used to pushing through discomfort, but today it felt especially hard.

Noticing your slower pace, Peter, your ever so loving and slightly overprotective boyfriend, quickly fell into step beside you. At 5 feet 8 inches, with a lean but strong frame, Peter was effortlessly athletic. His brown curls bounced as he jogged lightly, a bright smile on his face. “Come on, baby, I know you can run faster!” He encouraged, his tone sweet and full of energy.

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, even as you winced with each step. “Peter, I—” you started, but before you could finish, MJ and Betty slowed down to join you.

MJ smirked knowingly. “You’re completely oblivious, aren’t you, Parker?”

Betty giggled. “Seriously, Peter, you need to pay more attention.”

Peter, puzzled, looked from one girl to the other, his brows furrowing. “What? What do you mean?” He asked, genuinely concerned as he turned to you.

Before you could answer him, Flash Thompson, Midtown’s resident bully and Peter’s longtime enemy, jogged up to the group with a smirk. “What’s the holdup, Parker? Too busy fawning over your girlfriend to keep up?”

Peter sighed but didn’t respond to the teasing, as usual. Flash had been picking on him since middle school, and while the jabs had lessened over time, they still stung occasionally. But Peter wasn’t one to fight back with words. Instead, he focused on you, his concern overriding any annoyance he might have felt toward Flash.

You, on the other hand, gave Flash a flat look. “I’m fine, Flash. Just taking it easy today.”

Flash shrugged, his smirk growing as he looked at you. “You know, Y/n, you could always ditch Parker and upgrade to someone who can carry you the whole way. I’ve got the muscles for it,” he teased, flexing for effect.

MJ rolled her eyes, while Betty stifled a laugh. “Oh, please, Flash. As if she’d ever trade Peter for you,” MJ quipped, crossing her arms.

Flash feigned offense, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me, Michelle. But I’m nothing if not persistent.”

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself. Flash could be a pain, but he had his moments. “I’ll pass, but thanks for the offer.”

Peter, finally catching on to the situation, turned back to you. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you running?” He asked, concern deepening in his voice.

You bit your lip, feeling a little embarrassed but touched by his worry. “It’s just… I forgot my sports bra, Pete. Makes running a bit of a challenge, and my boobs are sore because I'm nearing my period,” you explained softly, motioning to your chest.

Realization dawned on Peter’s face, his eyes widening. “Why didn’t you say anything before?” His voice was laced with concern. “What can I do to help?”

You shook your head, giving him a gentle smile. “There’s nothing you can really do right now, babe. I just have to push through and get it done.”

Peter frowned deeply, clearly not satisfied with that answer. He paused, his mind racing for a solution. Suddenly, his face lit up with an idea. “I’ve got it! Just hop on my back!” He exclaimed, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Flash, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow. “Seriously, Parker? You’re going to carry her all the way back? Good luck with that.”

MJ rolled her eyes again, unimpressed. “Like you could do any better, Flash.”

Betty, beside her, giggled. “Honestly, it's adorable.”

Peter, unfazed by Flash’s teasing, crouched down in front of you, his grin wide. “Get on, Y/n/n. Let’s show them how it’s done.”

You hesitated for a moment, still unsure, but the warmth in Peter’s eyes convinced you. Carefully, you climbed onto his back, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he stood up, adjusting to your weight with ease. He started walking again, this time carrying you effortlessly, a determined look on his face.

As you guys continued the route, more than a few students turned to watch, some with amused smiles, others with light chuckles. Ned jogged over, his face beaming with delight. “You two are so cute! I’ve got to get this on video,” he said, pulling out his phone.

Flash, jogging beside them, couldn’t resist one last jab. “Don’t drop her, Parker. She might realise she could’ve had the real deal instead,” he teased, but there was no real malice in his tone.

Peter just smiled, too focused on you to let Flash’s words bother him. “I won’t drop her. She’s too important to me.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, feeling your heart swell with affection. “You’re crazy, you know that?” You murmured, but there was no mistaking the warmth in your voice.

“Crazy about you,” Peter replied with a wink.

When you guys finally made it back to the school, Peter gently let you down, his face flushed with exertion but his smile as bright as ever. “See? Told you we could do it!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, feeling a wave of affection wash over her. “Yeah, we did.” You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, making him blush even more. “Thanks, Pete. You’re the best.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Anything for you, babe.”

As you walked back into the school together, hand in hand, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, forgetting your compression bra hadn’t been such a bad thing after all.

MJ, watching them with a soft smile, shook her head. “He’s such a dork.”

“But it's cute, though,” Betty added with a grin.

Flash, trailing behind, called out, “Hey, Parker! Don’t think this means you’ve won or anything. I’ll get my chance with Y/n one day!”

Peter just laughed, shaking his head. “Whatever you say, Flash.”

And as the bell rang, signalling the end of gym class, the group of friends headed inside, their laughter echoing through the halls. It was just another day at Midtown High, but for you, it was a reminder of how lucky you were to have someone like Peter—someone who would always carry you through the tough times, in more ways than one.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

[ghostedgwen]

bet on all three | p.parker [part one]

note : full-on petey parkour comeback with this onslaught of fics I have for him - imma let the boys at hogwarts rest and let my favorite spider boy shine! ALSO YESS MORE JOCK!READER X NERD!PETER DYNAMICS

warnings : mentions of injuries, themes of bullying, some scene of reader getting mugged - crime and all that, reader is confident and extrovert while peter is the complete opposite, f!reader but i try to keep physical appearance as vague as possible.

You're Midtown’s golden girl on the soccer field. He’s the dork with a camera and a secret. It starts with tutoring, teasing, and late-night subway rides - and somewhere in between, lines blur, jokes linger, and Peter’s not so invisible anymore.

Cheeks pink in the twinkling lights, tell me 'bout the first time you saw me

The nurse had long since given up pretending either of you were urgent cases.

Peter sat on the bed to the right, legs swinging awkwardly off the edge, an oversized ice pack balanced against the side of his forehead like he was nursing the world’s dumbest battle scar. You, meanwhile, were reclined just across from him, ankle propped on a pillow, sock rolled down and a smaller, sad little pack of ice taped gingerly to your bare skin.

The silence between you crackled, not uncomfortable exactly - just…strange. Quiet. Like the air before kick-off.

“Okay,” you said finally, tossing your head back against the pillow. “I’ll bite. What sport do you play?”

Peter blinked, surprised that you were talking to him. “What?”

“You’re here. You’re bruised. You’ve got this vaguely tragic, injured-veteran thing going on,” you said, gesturing lazily toward his forehead. “I’m assuming there was a dodgeball incident. Maybe you took a basketball to the face. I’m just narrowing down the suspects.”

Peter flushed. “Oh, uh. No sport. Just Flash.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Flash. . . Thompson?”

He nodded.

You squinted at him. Then, like it clicked, you sat up slightly and gave him the most deadpan look known to man.

“Oh. Right. The 'bullied' position. That classic athletic role.”

Peter made a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a wince. “Yeah, that’s - honestly not wrong.”

You grinned and dropped back against the pillow, satisfied. “Tough break, Parker.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, then peeked over at your leg. “What about you? That looked like a nasty fall. I saw you land weird during sixth period.”

You glanced at him, surprised. “You were watching?”

He coughed. “I mean - not like watching watching. I was passing by. Coincidentally. You just - you stood out. Cleats and all.”

You smirked. “Sure. Coincidentally.”

Peter shifted in place like the bed had suddenly grown teeth and was munching on his ass - very descriptive.

There was a beat of silence again. The nurse’s radio (to your surprise, people still listened to those in the age of Spotify and Apple Music) played something soft and instrumental in the background, and you let your head tilt toward him.

“I’m fine, by the way. Just a light sprain, I think. She said I’ve gotta rest for a few hours, keep it iced. Not allowed to limp dramatically down the hallway for attention.”

“Shame,” Peter said before he could stop himself. “Would’ve been good for your image.”

Your smile widened. “So you have noticed me before.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Looked, very briefly, like he might spontaneously combust.

You didn’t push. Just let your head roll back and closed your eyes with a smile, saying lazily, “Maybe next time Flash clocks you into a locker, you can fake a nosebleed. You’ll get the comfy bed.”

Peter didn’t answer right away.

But when you cracked one eye open, he was already watching you.

And that’s when it started.

Peter hadn’t meant to stay the whole time.

He’d only stopped by because he heard the game was happening on the field behind the science wing and figured - maybe - he’d catch a few minutes before heading home. Not like he had plans. Not like anyone would notice him, half-tucked behind the bleachers with his backpack on both shoulders like a certified dork.

Except you noticed.

Of course, you noticed.

It was just after half-time, the sun hanging low and golden over the chain-link fence, casting long shadows across the field. You were on a water break, jersey sticking slightly to your back, shin guards grass-stained and cleats crunching softly over the sidelines as you walked toward the bench.

Peter watched from his spot in the stands, somewhere in the third row. Not too close, but not too far. Safe distance. Neutral zone.

Classic nerd formation.

You unscrewed your water bottle, took a long drink, and scanned the crowd.

When your eyes landed on him - he froze.

A second later, you smiled.

Not a quick, polite kind of smile either. No, this one was teasing. Intentional. A little mischievous. You raised your hand and gave him a casual two-fingered wave like you were saluting a secret, then punctuated it with a wink.

Peter’s whole soul left his body.

Unfortunately, so did his visibility cloak of anonymity, because a couple of people sitting near him noticed. One guy nudged his friend. A girl turned and whispered behind her hand. Heads started to swivel.

“Yo, who’s she waving at?” someone muttered.

Peter immediately ducked his head, burning red, suddenly fascinated by the stitching on his backpack strap. He sank lower in his seat like he could physically fold himself into the bleachers.

From the field, you just laughed.

Peter could feel it - the eyes, the energy. Like you’d thrown him into the spotlight with one casual blink, and now the whole school had questions he was not equipped to answer.

(Starting with: Why would you wave at Peter Parker?)

He peeked up again after a second, cautiously.

You were already jogging back toward the field, hair bouncing, focus snapped back into the game like it hadn’t been a big deal. Like you hadn’t just melted a boy’s brain with a single wink.

Peter sat there for the rest of the match, stunned and a little breathless, chewing absently on the cap of his pen and pretending - albeit poorly - not to smile.

The museum was one of those day-long detours they only did once a semester - strictly for the “enhanced learning experience,” which just meant cramming four buses full of over-caffeinated high schoolers into a building filled with things they were technically supposed to respect.

Peter was, predictably, not with the rest of the group.

He’d veered off the tour path half an hour ago with his camera slung around his neck and a quiet determination to get the perfect shot of the light through the dinosaur wing. The bones were fascinating, sure - but it was the shadows he was chasing, the geometry of ribs and vertebrae etched in dusty sunbeams.

He didn’t notice you until you stopped beside him.

“You always ditch field trips to chase the light?” you asked, cracking open a soda(not sure you're allowed to have those inside) and leaning one hip against the railing.

Peter startled so hard he nearly dropped his camera.

“Oh - uh - hey. No, I mean - sometimes. Not always.”

You tilted your head. “You know you’re gonna get chewed out if they do a headcount, right?”

Peter blinked at you, still trying to catch up. You weren’t in uniform anymore - just jeans and a hoodie, sleeves shoved up. You looked so casual, so at ease.

He, meanwhile, was sweating bullets.

“I just wanted to get this angle,” Peter said, lifting his camera slightly. “The way the light hits the Allosaurus - kind of reminds me of that scene in 2001: A Space Odyssey, y’know? With the monolith and the apes?”

You raised a brow. “Kubrick, huh?”

Peter blinked.

You took a sip of your drink, nonchalant. “That’s the ‘Dawn of Man’ sequence, right? Where the bone turns into the spaceship?”

He stared. “You’ve seen 2001?”

You grinned at the disbelief on his face. “What? Think jocks can’t get nerdy too?”

Peter opened his mouth. Closed it. Flushed. “No - I mean - that’s not what I meant, I just - I didn’t peg you as a film buff, that’s all - ”

“You didn’t peg me?” you said, mock-scandalized, then laughed when he stammered harder.

“I - I just meant you don’t really seem like the - like the type who - ”

“I’m messing with you, dork,” you said, nudging his shoulder. “Relax.”

Peter let out a breathy laugh, heart pounding stupidly - the things you do to his poor heart.

You gave him a sideways look, playful and amused. “Anyway, you gonna stay out here the whole time, or should I walk you back before you get left behind?”

Peter blinked again, still slightly stunned, then nodded quickly and started walking with you down the corridor - shoulder a little too close, brain still short-circuiting.

Peter was swapping out his physics binder for his English notebook when the hallway’s ambient noise dipped - just slightly, just enough that he noticed.

It was the kind of hush that always came with a collective tilt of attention.

He blinked, turning - and nearly dropped his notebook when he saw you walking straight toward him, hair yet again bouncing, gym bag slung over one shoulder, cleats tied together and hanging off the side.

The usual mid-lunch bustle didn’t stop entirely, but he could feel the stares. See the subtle nudges and elbow-jabs from other students. Peter Parker, Midtown’s resident nerd and Flash Thompson’s favorite punching bag, had just been approached by the star striker of the girls’ soccer team.

He could eat his whole locker from the cringe.

“I need your help,” you said, like you didn’t notice the audience. Like this was normal. Like this wasn’t the exact setup to a Carrie-style prank.

Peter blinked. “W - with what?”

You smirked, amused. “Don’t look so scared. I’m not about to shove you in a locker.”

That. . . did not reassure him as much as you might’ve thought.

You leaned in a little, conspiratorial. “Truth is, I sort of need help with chem. Not a total disaster, but. . .Coach said if my midterm dips below a B again, I’m off the starting lineup for finals.”

“Oh,” Peter said, blinking fast. “Um. Yeah - I mean, yeah, I can - I can help. If you want. If that’s - if you’re sure?”

You shrugged. “I’ve seen your test scores. You’re the only person who didn’t groan when we hit the covalent bonds unit.”

Peter flushed so hard his ears went pink, leave it to you to investigate how much of a nerd he is. “I - I mean, yeah. Sure. Happy to. When?”

He could smack himself, 'happy to'?

“Library,” you said easily. “Tomorrow after practice. I’ll bring snacks - keep it hush though, don't want the librarian kicking us out.”

Peter nodded mutely - afraid he'd say another embarrassing response.

You winked - winked, for the love of God - and jogged off down the hall, calling something to your friend before ducking around the corner.

Peter stared after you like he’d just hallucinated the whole thing.

From behind him, someone muttered, “What the hell?”

Peter closed his locker and walked to class like his feet weren’t touching the floor.

The Midtown library was quiet enough to hear the creak of old floorboards under careful steps. Peter was already at their usual table, settled with a stack of textbooks and highlighters fanned out like weapons of academic warfare. He kept checking the clock—not because she was late, but because she wasn’t early.

And then, she breezed in.

Not in her uniform this time. Her jersey and cleats were replaced with a slouchy sweatshirt and worn-in joggers, hair still damp from a quick shower. She smelled like citrus shampoo and laundry soap - Peter clocked that and immediately hated himself for noticing.

“Hey, tutor boy,” you greeted, sliding into the seat across from him with a soft huff, like you'd just jogged across the building. “Hope you didn’t memorize the whole textbook without me.”

Peter blinked, trying not to stare. “Uh - no. Just the first three chapters.”

You could laugh at that, the whole textbook thing was an obvious exaggeration but of course, he manages to actually give an answer that still impresses you - 'just the first three chapter' he says.

You grinned, tugging your sleeves over your hands as you leaned forward. “Wow. A modest genius.”

He smiled, shy. “You look. . . different.”

You arched a brow, feigning criticism. “Bad different?”

“No! No, I mean - not in a bad way. Just, like, not in sporty attire?” He winced. “That sounded weird.”

You laughed, easy and amused. “Yeah, I changed. Didn’t want to track turf dirt through the library. Figured Midtown’s MVP tutor deserved a little respect.”

Peter turned pink, ducking his head. “Hardly MVP. . .”

You thought about saying, most valuable Peter, but that was too corny - yet funny in your head.

“Hey,” you nudged his ankle under the table, playful but gentle. “Don’t talk down the guy saving my chemistry grade.”

He couldn’t help but glance at your hair again - still damp and pushed behind your ears. “Did you. . . shower after practice?”

Your smile widened. “Wow, you’re just full of observations today.”

Peter backpedaled. “I didn’t mean it weird, I just - noticed. You smell nice. Not that I was sniffing you or anything - ”

You leaned forward on your elbow, eyes gleaming. “You sniffed me, Parker?”

Peter was melting into the seat - him and his stupid mouth.

You let him squirm a second longer before laughing softly. “Relax. I’m messing with you.”

“You do that a lot,” he muttered.

“I like seeing you flustered. It’s cute.”

That shut him up completely.

And for a moment, it was just the quiet shuffle of papers, the scratch of pens, and the realization - dawning on both of you in real time - that this was starting to feel like something more than tutoring.

The library door clicked shut behind you two, the world dim and quiet under the halo of streetlights. Rain misted the air, not quite enough to soak you, but enough that Peter still offered to hold the umbrella.

You rolled your eyes half-heartedly, and let him.

“Y’know,” you said, hopping down the steps and stretching your arms overhead, “we’ve spent a lot of time together recently, but you’re still a total mystery.”

Peter blinked. “I am not.”

“You are! You’re like a human calculator that knows everything except how to actually talk about himself.”

Peter laughed, but it was sheepish. “Okay, fine. I’ll give you four facts. But you have to rank them by how impressive they are.”

“Ooh, a game. I’m in.”

He held up a finger. “One - I built my first working circuit board when I was nine.”

You fake-gasped, jaw slackening. “Nerd.”

He ignored that. “Two - I can recite every single line from The Empire Strikes Back. Backwards.”

“Backwards?”

“Backwards.”

You blinked. “That’s insane.”

Peter grinned, holding up a third finger. “Three - I once got detention because I corrected a substitute teacher’s math on the board.”

“Peter,” you said, mock-scandalized, “were you a rebel?”

“I felt terrible! But he was teaching it wrong!”

You giggled. “Honestly, you were doing the class a favor.”

“And last. . .” He paused, then looked away, scratching the back of his neck. “I kind of. . . taught myself photography because I was too nervous to talk to people, and I figured taking photos would let me see them without having to say anything.”

You glanced at him then - really looked. The quiet way he said it. The honesty in it. He wasn’t trying to impress you with that one. He was just telling the truth.

And it hit something soft inside you - my, a whole new side to Peter Parker.

“Okay,” you said quietly. “That one wins.”

Peter turned toward you, curious. “Really? Over circuit boards and rebellion?”

You nodded. “Photography’s kind of vulnerable. It says you wanted to understand people. That’s. . .cool.”

He looked away, ears turning pink.

You nudged him. “Your turn. Ask me something.”

He glanced sideways. “Okay, so. . . all this time you’ve been grilling me and I don’t even know your favorite food.”

“Easy. Pad Thai.”

“Extra peanuts?”

“Obviously.” (sorry if you're allergic.)

Peter nodded in approval. “Okay, what’s your dream job?”

“Still figuring it out,” you said. “But something where I get to run around. Be loud. And boss people around, ideally.”

He smiled, amused. “So, coach?”

“CEO,” you said, winking. “Or the president. - of Mars”

Peter chuckled. “Midtown’s golden girl aiming high.”

You made a mock-bow. “Aim for the moon, right?”

“Alright,” he said. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

You hesitated for half a step, then said, “Sometimes I feel like I’ve built myself so tall that people forget to ask if I ever feel small.”

Peter looked at you, stunned silent. And you shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, like your words hadn’t just hollowed something soft in the air between you.

And that’s when he said, soft and awed, “You’re a lot.”

You laughed. “Too much?”

“No,” Peter said quietly. “Just. . . a lot. In a good way.”

You slowed a little as the subway entrance came into view. He hesitated beside you, holding the umbrella still.

Then he asked, “So how come you wanted me to tutor you, anyway? You didn’t really need help.”

You smirked, brushing a strand of damp hair behind your ear. “Guess I wanted to spend time with you. Is that a crime, Parker?”

He opened his mouth to answer, then faltered - unsure what to say in this very moment. This is a scene straight out of those cheesy romcom movies that aunt May loves.

You grinned and nudged his side with your elbow. “Relax. You’re cute when you blush.”

He groaned and hid his face behind his hand, and you laughed, feeling it for the first time - that pull in your chest. A quiet, undeniable want.

He wasn’t just the dork who sat behind the lens or scribbled in his physics notebook.

He was Peter. And suddenly, that meant a whole lot more.

Five days later. Friday evening.

The sky was a dull grey bruise, the kind that made streetlights flicker on too early. Midtown buzzed with its usual end-of-week chaos - horns, rushed footsteps, and the occasional burst of laughter spilling out from delis and bodegas.

Peter was jumpy. He didn’t know why. He hated not knowing why.

Tutoring had gone well - better than well. You showed up with two pens and a pink iced coffee, hair in a loose clip, eyes already bright with something warm the second you spotted him. You’d leaned close during a joke, and Peter hadn’t even processed the page he was explaining because he’d been too busy wondering what your shampoo was.

You waved him off after, calling, “See you Monday, Professor Parker,” before disappearing toward the train station.

And yet, twenty minutes later, Peter still wasn’t on the train.

Because something felt wrong.

It was in his ribs. That strange tug he’d learned to listen to, ever since the spider bite rewired his everything. And this time, the tug led him not toward a mugging or a runaway car.

It led him to you.

He took the alley behind the coffee shop, slipping on his mask mid-air. The suit hugged tight around his shoulders, glinting in the streetlight as he darted above the crowd. He could see the blur of you up ahead - your backpack bouncing against your spine, your headphones in, your pace steady.

You’re okay, he told himself. Just a weird feeling. Nothing’s going to-

Then he saw him. A man, stepping out from a side street, too fast, too close. Peter’s pulse slammed into high gear.

You didn’t see him until the guy grabbed for your arm.

You twisted away, instantly alert, but the man shoved you hard. You hit the brick wall with a grunt, scrambling to stay on your feet.

“Back off!” you yelled.

Peter didn’t hesitate.

He shot a web at the guy’s wrist, yanking him backwards and pinning him against a dumpster in the span of a second. The guy howled, but Spider-Man was already swinging down, landing in a crouch between you and him.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, shaking. “That’s not how we treat people around here.”

The man cursed and thrashed against the webbing, but he wasn’t going anywhere.

Peter turned to you. “You okay?”

You blinked at him, winded. Your elbow was scraped. Your breath came quick. But your voice was steady when you answered.

“Fine,” you said. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“Still,” Spider-Man said, trying not to let the rage leak through, “gotta go saving the people of Queens.”

Your eyes searched his masked face. “Thanks. For showing up.”

Peter hesitated. You were looking at him too closely. Too calmly. Like you were. . . piecing it together - but there's no way, right?

He cleared his throat. “Lucky timing.”

You tilted your head. “Mhm.”

The police sirens were close now - someone had probably heard the commotion. Spider-Man nodded once, then backed up a step.

“I should go.”

“Yeah,” you said, brushing your hair back, voice deceptively casual. “Wouldn’t want people seeing the school’s star athlete getting walked home by Spider-Man. Might ruin my tough rep.”

Peter froze. You were definitely onto him.

But all you did was grin. Just a little - that one was unreadable to him entirely.

“I’ll see you around,” you said, and walked off without waiting for a response.

He watched you go - heart racing, hands still shaking - and for the first time since he’d gotten the suit, Peter wasn’t scared someone had found out.

He was scared because he wanted you to - okay, yeah, he is so very screwed.

to be continued . . .

masterlist

[writeroutoftime]

the morning after

pairing: jack thompson x reader (requested by: @barbiegirlbaby )

a/n: hope you don't mind that I did a headcannon style story! it's basically a story, but this was the easiest way for my brain to write it lol (also, on a totally different note, I miss the time when you could indent bullet points!!)

oOoOo

Waking up, you immediately noticed the sheets underneath you were not your own. A sly glance to your left and you saw the mussed, dirty blonde hair of none other than Jack Thompson.

Flashes of the previous night came to your mind. The feel of Jack's lips against yours, the way his hands traced the shape of your body. Remembering it all brought a flush to your face despite your internal protests.

As carefully as possible, you slid from the sheets and dressed quickly. Heels in your hand, you gave one final glance towards Jack's sleeping form. You ignored the small pang in your chest and slipped out the door, hailing a cab back to your place.

Once home, you breathed a sigh of relief to see that Peggy was already out and couldn't pester you about your dalliances.

Collapsing on the couch, you throw your feet up and think back to everything that happened the night before.

For the past few months, Jack had been a thorn in your side each time you ran into him, Peggy being the link that connected you. As with most people in his life, Jack got under your skin and managed to rile you up with his words and his looks.

But something snapped last night and in the dim lights of the bar, Jack had surged forward and kissed you, long and hard. Next think you knew, the two of you had stumbled up the stairs and into his sheets.

Your cheeks heated at the memories, and you forced yourself to banish the thoughts from your mind. How were you going to face him again? So, you made the completely mature decision to avoid him.

Over the next week, you avoided going out and tried to keep between your apartment and work. Occasionally, you stopped by the store for food, but nowhere you thought Jack would make an appearance.

It was on the fifth day of this pattern that Peggy finally cracked. "Okay," she started, hands on your hip staring down as you listened to the radio. "what is going on?"

"Nothing." you told her, though it came out more like a question. But all it took was one withering look from Peggy and you cracked. "Okay, Jack and I might have slept together. And I also might be avoiding him so I don't have to face the utter embarrassment of his rejection."

Peggy's eyes softened and she sat down next to you and wrapped her arms around your frame. "Well if that, were to happen, then Jack would be a complete idiot to let a catch like you get away."

"Thanks, Peggy." you whispered to her, enjoying the comforting silence for a few moments.

"How about the two of us go to dinner? Get you out of this apartment and get your mind off 'you-know-who'? she asked, pushing you towards your bedroom to change.

Though you hated to admit it, Peggy was right. It was nice to get out of the house. The two of you had a nice meal and made plans to visit the diner again soon. It wasn't until the end of the meal that you caught a glance of dirty blonde hair out of the corner of your eye. Freezing, you saw Jack walk into the diner and take a seat at a booth nearby.

Collecting your things, you hurry to stand and try to leave the diner as covertly as possible. Guess there was a reason you weren't in the SSR, since Jack's eyes landed on your retreating frame.

He called out your name and followed you outside. "Hey, wait a second, will you?"

"Hi, Jack." you mumbled, looking down at the sidewalk.

There was a thick tension in the air as neither of you knew how to start the conversation.

Jack finally took a breath and took a leap of faith. "I was, uh, surprised to see you weren't there when I woke up last week."

"Thought I'd save you the trouble of kicking me out." you said, arms crossed across your chest, trying to appear detached.

Hazel eyes look at you in surprise. "Hey." he whispers, detangling your arms and grasping your hand. "I wouldn't have kicked you out."

"No?"

"Of course not. In fact, I was gonna, uh. You know what never mind." he said, suddenly bashful.

This change of character piqued your interest and had you curious for more. "No, it's okay. You were going to what?"

"Well, I was gonna ask if you wanted to go on a date? A proper one, ya know? With dinner, maybe dancing, the whole nine yards."

Your heart fluttered at the thought. And here you were thinking he'd want nothing to do with you again. With a newfound confidence, you pressed a kiss to the side of his cheek.

"So, what time are you picking me up tomorrow night?"

oOoOo

a/n: sorry if this felt really jumbled, but I hope you enjoyed reading!

[amazing-spider-man-book-club]

Amazing Fantasy #15 (1962)

Published: August 1962

Containing: "Spider-Man!", "There are Martians Among Us!", "Man in The Mummy Case!", "The Bell-Ringer!"

Introducing: Peter Parker/Spider-Man, Ben Parker, May Parker, Flash Thompson, Liz Allen (unnamed), Mr. Warren (unnamed), Crusher Hogan, Sally Avril (unnamed), Seymour O'Reilly (unnamed), Maxie Shiffman (unnamed), The Burgler, Officer Baxter Bigelow (unnamed)

Synopsis: Peter Parker, social outcast, becomes vindictive and egotistical following being bitten by a radioactive spider and gaining spider-like abilities. After a brief stint in show business, his Uncle Ben is murdered by a burgler that Peter did nothing to stop earlier.

Read alongside us here:

@frankendykes-monster : One thing I don't want to do with this blog is discuss the in's and out's of how we got here because I feel like that'd be boring to most people beyond some anecdotals, but as we continue farther along the "behind the scenes" of The Amazing Spider-Man will become harder to ignore. That said:

Amazing Fantasy #15 is the only comic named "Amazing Fantasy". The series started out as Amazing Adventures, and was a typical Marvel horror/science fiction series being headlined by a Jack Kirby story followed by multiple stories by any number of freelancers (Dick Ayers, Don Heck, Larry Lieber, Joe Sinnott, etc.). With #7 the series is renamed as Amazing Adult Fantasy and becomes a 100% Steve Ditko showcase, but Spider-Man marks an intended shift towards replacing the line with superheroes; August 1962 is also the month where Ant-Man becomes the main feature in Tales to Astonish and Thor is introduced in Journey into Mystery. Truly, the "Marvel Age" of comics was upon us.

As a two-part story that only takes up 12 pages, "Spider-Man!" gets an incredible amount of work done. It's arguably the most superfluous issue of the entire Ditko/Lee run to return to if only because unlike so many other superheroes, Spider-Man's origin is a very "don't fix what isn't broken". Fans of Spider-Man (2002) or Spectacular Spider-Man especially will notice that's there not much here that they aren't already aware of, though most of the characters introduced here play no important role for the duration of the run, and will only be retroactively made more important by future creative talent down the line.

One thing that will become apparent throughout the run, however, is that this "source text" incarnation of Peter is a vindictive jackass starting out. In this issue we see proclamations that the rest of the world can walk off a cliff, and his disinterest in stopping the burgler is nothing more than an expression of that attitude. Being nice costs nothing, but being rude and egotistical doesn't either (or does it...considering your family member might be murdered later on...)

Stan Lee's narration seems prophetic in retrospect given that his aggrandizing prose makes it out that Spider-Man is nothing more than completely destined to become one of the biggest characters in pop culture. The juxtaposition of it with the slouching demurred pose of Peter on the title page and the context which it finds itself at the story's end just highlights that something big is on the way.

Amazing Fantasy #15, despite the text note that Lee provides at the end of the issue, would be the final one published as it was cancelled to make room in Marvel's distribution line up for a revival of Two-Gun Kid three months later. Several Spider-Man stories that were already done would end up on the shelf until The Amazing Spider-Man #1 is published. It heightens the tragedy of this story in a way that makes it compliment the twist-ending pulp horror that Ditko's output entirely consisted of. In this issue alone, Peter's fame going to his head and it biting him in the ass isn't out of place compared to anything that would have happened in Tales From The Crypt a decade earlier.

I have to wonder how much of this issue is a rush job because the early Spider-Man stories we will be discussing over the next several weeks are not the highlight of Ditko's career to out it nicely. There's not a lot of room for large panels that have a nice balance of negative space like what one would expect from Ditko in the early 1960's. Spider-Man's original costume was meant to be black (blue serving as a highlight) and the spider symbol on his back being blue. Didn't stick. For contrast take a look at the title page for two of the other stories in this issue.

@duel1971 : A good amount of ground ground gets covered in this relatively short origin story. We see Peter as a wallflower, a masked wrestler, an inventor, and most importantly as a loving son. These are all facets of the gem that is Peter Parker. He comes across as a relatable everyman because the details of his civilian life are filled in with care. Our first look at peter at home establishes there is a core of love in his home life, that he feels safe there away from the world that doesn’t fully understand him. Peter doesn’t quite transform into a superhero in Amazing Fantasy #15, but we learn the things that drive him: love for his family, and anger that it has been broken.

[avatarskywalker78]

It's Work in Progress Wednesday and I've been trying to make a dent in my WIP list!! I completed and uploaded the Wario centric one yesterday and I've been trying to make some headway into the others using the advice from the WIP clearout post. The first extract is from my 'Alex & Daniel' wip - where Daniel Sousa offers to look after an eight-year-old Alex Thompson for the day, and is a little apprehensive about it.

Daniel would like to say that he didn’t know how he’d been talked into this, but that would be a lie – he’d been talked into it because the Thompsons were practically family and had asked for this favour, and because Peggy was too busy at SHIELD to help look after Alex for the day, so it had been left up to him.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t had to look after children before, of course, but still, he couldn’t help but be a little nervous – he’d only looked after Alex a handful of times and those had been when she was very small, not the bouncy eight-year-old who’d be coming to stay for a few hours, and there was always a worry about having to look after someone else’s child. Especially the granddaughter of one of his closest friends. Plus, he wasn’t exactly getting any younger here, so he wouldn’t be able to keep up as much as he might’ve done back in the day – and he already felt exhausted as Sophia parked the car and Alex came running over with a speed he envied. “Uncle Daniel!” She rushed towards him and for a second he feared she was about to leap at him and expect him to catch her because that really would send him crashing to the floor— She didn’t. She did, however, knock the wind out of him and almost bowl him over with the force of the resulting hug. “Oof.” “Sorry!” She jumped back, apologetic. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Mom says I get too overexcited sometimes.” “I’m fine.” He assured her as he got his breath back, Sophia coming over and looking faintly amused. “Nothing wrong with a hug, kiddo, you just gotta be a little careful - you could’ve knocked me flying.” “Sorry.” She hugged him gentler this time. “I’ve just been looking forward to this for ages.” “I got that.” He said with a laugh, returning the hug. “It’s great to see you too, Alex.”

I have identified a couple of the main blocks; not only have I not watched the source material for a few years, but...I also don't have a clear plan for the fic!! Which isn't helpful, but now I know I can work on it - I've already found both seasons so a rewatch will be a great help (and not just for this one).

Another one I've been working on is...the Sad Westhallen Fic!! Which might not be as sad as it originally was - Barry's still dead but the bulk of the fic is going to be his friends and family sharing all the good memories they have and celebrating his life - but, of course, Eddie and Iris are still dealing with the loss, compounded by the fact their twins have basically no memories of their dad.

It wasn't meant to be like this. Days after Eddie had been freed from captivity, days after Barry, Oliver, and Teams Flash and Arrow brought down Eobard and called in Rip Hunter to see justice served, that had been when he'd finally start to believe - at least a little - that maybe, maybe things would get better. It had been far from easy, of course - Eddie and Iris's relationship was...not on hold, exactly, but any talk of marriage was shelved for the time being until he got the help he needed, which had made sense, of course, but...part of him had worried that she'd choose Barry in the end after all, because the other man was kind and brave and unflinching, someone who would treat Iris right and all Eddie had ever, ever wanted was for Iris to be happy. And if Barry was the one to make her happy... Who was he to stand in the way of that? Course, this had been a symptom of his depression, and once he'd started going to therapy he'd realised how spectacularly untrue it was. Iris and Barry were nothing but supportive the whole time and Iris assured him that she still loved him and always would. She wasn't going anywhere - and neither was Barry. This had made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside - and he'd finally had to admit that yes, he was in love with Barry too, and had been for some time.

This one needs a rewatch too, so it'll either be this or Agent Carter that I rewatch after I finished OUAT S1.

Tagging (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @shrinkthisviolet @starstruckpurpledragon @dream-beyond-the-fantasy @daughter-of-melpomene

[themculibrary]

Peter Parker & Flash Thompson Masterlist

A Soft Place to Land (ao3) - Ink_Vault betty/ned, peter/flash N/R, 98k

Summary: "With great power comes great responsibility." Yeah, right. More like, with great power comes stab wounds and bloody sheets and a hero complex that could take down even the strongest of men. And Peter, well, he isn't the strongest of men. Not to mention that Peter's hero complex doesn't exactly extend to himself.

May still doesn’t know that he’s Spiderman. Because of this, she also doesn’t know about his increased metabolism, hunger, strength, sensitivity, everything. He didn’t really notice, for the first few weeks, until he hears May on the phone with one of her work friends discussing how she didn’t realize how much teenage boys eat. Peter immediately stopped eating.

Flash knows something is up. He knows the signs, or at least he thinks he does. And he's going to get to the bottom of things, one way or another.

Aye Oh- Let's Go! (ao3) - FrozenHearts wanda/vision T, 12k

Summary: Flash knows something is up with Peter.

He sets about to prove it to the Decathalon Team.

Bullying a Spider (ao3) - Jaidan T, 4k

Summary: Eugene "Flash" Thompson learns that being a bully can have negative consequences...

BY THE WAY (ao3) - hellotomyoldheart peter/flash T, 17k

Summary: Peter knows Flash, now. In a way he didn’t before. Sure, he knew about his dying dad and his false bravado and his strange stillness but he didn’t know Flash. Now he does.

Flash Thompson's father dies the week after Thanksgiving. That's how it starts.

Do I Deserve This? (ao3) - id_rather_be_reading_3 T, 72k

Summary: When the Avengers find a malnourished, traumatized, enhanced teen in a Hydra base, they manage to convince SHIELD that the kid is better off in the Compound than the SHIELD Headquarters.

Peter Parker thinks his luck might finally be changing for the better, until he hears a conversation between Captain America and Iron Man that terrifies him--if the superheroes find out that Peter was an assassin for Hydra, he feels certain they'll kick him out--or worse, send him to the Raft for a punishment he surely deserves.

Can the Spider manage to keep his bloodied past a secret from a room full of mind readers, spies and military? It'll certainly prove harder than he'd thought.

Do Not Cross The Line (ao3) - MARVELously3000 N/R, 3k

Summary: Although it's no excuse for the way he treats Peter, Flash's home life is not good.

Or Flash hurts Peter and Tony goes down to the school. Flash admits something that Tony can't just walk away from and forget.

flash thompson's spider-man conspiracy (ao3) - tempestaurora T, 4k

Summary: Flash Thompson has been making Spider-Man conspiracy videos for a long time, and Peter knows that making the WHO IS SPIDER-MAN? documentary is going to feed the flames, but he doesn't mind.

He also finds Flash's videos hilarious.

Have Them Over (ao3) - canonismybitch ned/peter T, 2k

Summary: Flash likes to host Decathlon meets, but he's never hosted one with his parents present.

OR

Peter and Ned are a cute couple around their Decathlon team, Flash's parents don't approve. That is not stopping him from defending his friends.

It Could Have Been Worse (ao3) - Eqquator G, 5k

Summary: “...and I know you’re all dying to know where we’re going on Friday! Well, I think you’ll be excited to know that we’re actually going to Stark Industries!”

The class’s reaction was instant and dramatic. Several people gasped, someone dropped their pencil, and Peter was surprised Flash’s neck didn’t snap the way he spun around so fast to stare at the boy.

Peter’s own reaction was less excitement and more mild terror.

Peter's class takes a trip to Stark Industries.

Peter Parker (ao3) - Forthelore T, 13k

Summary: The five times that Peter is a hero as Spiderman plus the one time Peter Parker is the hero.

She's my Mother... (ao3) - chibithedragonkitty T, 11k

Summary: It’s Parent Teacher conferences at Peter’s school to talk about his grades and mainly everything else. Though one teacher can’t help but talk about his “lies” along with a certain bully we all know to well.

Though how is it going to turn out when they see that his mother is not what they think

should i hang up my coat and call it a day? (ao3) - starlesbian steve/bucky G, 14k

Summary: Peter Parker has done a pretty good job thus far of hiding his superhero identity. He moved into the Stark Tower with all of the other Avengers, and shortly after Tony adopted him.

But, of course, his school has to plan a field trip to the Stark Tower. His own house. This'll be fun.

Stark Internship (ao3) - spidey567 G, 2k

Summary: Peter’s always had bad luck.

That’s why it doesn’t come as a surprise when Mr Harrington announces the location of the decathlon team’s latest field trip during what initially, seemed like a normal Friday afternoon.

The One Where Everything Goes Well (ao3) - nokurde T, 11k

Summary: ...at least at first.

or

Upon learning his school won a tour of Stark Industries, Peter takes care of everything that could put his identity at risk. Flash didn't get the memo.

When A Parker Met A Stacy (ao3) - Spideyfan62 peter/gwen G, 5k

Summary: However, just as she’d turned to do so, Gwen noticed another student coming over to the guy before he squatted down and helped him pick up his stuff. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but she observed as the second one gently put a hand on the shoulder of the one who’d dropped everything, seemingly making sure he was okay.

“Oh yeah, that’s the friend of mine that I thought you should meet,” Flash explained, coming up to Gwen. “Hey, Peter!”

[beezusvreeland]

a very good idea - chapter 4

summary: After your boyfriend cheats on you at a party, you break up with him, who tells you nobody else is willing to be with you like him. You decide to prove him wrong, with a little help from a new friend.

ship: miguel o'hara x f!reader

______________________________________________________________

Chapter 4

You had more homework than the regular person and not just because you were taking some advanced classes. Before your side hustle, you would babysit kids in your neighborhood during the week and work as a waitress on events organized by your brother-in-law’s catering business on the weekends. 

You’ve had summer jobs before, but when high school came around, your mom got really sick and it took doctors a few months to come to the conclusion that she was exhausted. The burnout type of exhaustion. She started seeing a psychiatrist and, stubborn as always, went right back to her two jobs. You and your sister Jenna had to bargain a lot, but at last convinced her to quit at least one of them and let the two of you help her.

All the money from the babysitting and waitressing went to house and health bills, mostly your mom’s. You very quickly realized that, unless you got an all inclusive scholarship, your chances of going to college were zero to none. Attending college had been your dream since you were a kid, when you’d watch reruns of Felicity with Jenna, both of you fascinated with all the classes and drama the protagonist went through. Your mom didn’t have the opportunity to go to college and, when your sister’s time came, she chose to focus on working in restaurants, learning as much as she could so she could open her bakery someday. When she met her husband Mike, they united their toothbrushes and business aspirations. Now he would organize events and she would develop a menu for them. You’ve loved the way they were each other’s biggest fans. They were your idea of what a loving relationship should be. Mikes were really hard to find, though. 

The first time you hung out at Harry’s Manhattan penthouse, some of his friends were there. You thought maybe you and Harry could watch a movie and spend time with each other, but obviously that wouldn’t happen. 

Harry was different when his friends were around: louder, he would drink more and more arrogant, whatever it took for boys like Flash Thompson and Eddie Brock to laugh and agree with him.

Flash was complaining about how he had to turn in an essay about the Wall Street Crash of 1929. 

“It’s so fucking boring, who cares what happened literally a hundred years ago”, Flash said, like doing the paper was the worse thing could ever happen to someone. “The only interesting thing about Wall Street is the Wolf and Margot Robbie.”

It took a lot of effort for you not to roll your eyes. 

“Don’t turn that shit in, then”, Eddie said, making Harry laugh and shake his head.

“My dad said that if I don’t get at least a C, I can kiss the Dubai trip goodbye.”

“A C?”, you gasped, in spite of yourself. 

“I know right, it fucking sucks”, Flash looked at you, all serious.

That was a little too much for you. Forgetting to care how Harry and his friends perceived you for a moment, you said: “Gosh, I could write a C type of essay about anything in an hour”.

“Well, write mine, then.”

You finally gave into the need to roll your eyes, then looked at him. 

“For 200 dollars I just might”, you joked.

However, Flash took his wallet from his back pocket and gave the money to you. Just like that. Like it was nothing. It probably was nothing to him, but to you, that money was really valuable. That’s how you have justified your hustle since then: you would write reports and essays for some of the rich kids from school and earn enough to help out at home and save for college. It was a perfect scheme, unless someone found out, which you (and your clients, really) have been really careful to prevent.

***

After an hour inside the library, you still had to finish a book report of your own, so you took your things and decided to go to the basketball court. Miguel’s practice hadn’t even started yet, he and some other boys, including Miles, paid attention to what their coach was saying.

You climbed a few steps and sat at the bleachers. Before opening your copy of Hamlet , you observed your surroundings. Besides the basketball team, there were a few freshman kids ready to watch the practice, as well as some girls you recognized from the hallways. 

The coach whistled loudly and the boys clapped their hands, scattering through the court to start playing. Miles saw you and waved. Miguel turned to see who his friend was smiling at, his eyes finding yours. You gave him a shy wave, which he responded to with a nod, turning back to his teammates. 

You felt disappointed at that. Your mind was telling you to stop being stupid, that you had no business having any expectations at all. But you also remembered his smile a few hours before, at lunch. He had a really beautiful smile. You wished it wasn’t a rare occurrence. 

You tried to focus on the book, which you had already read, a pencil and a highlighter in hand. During your reading process, you used post-its to mark pages that had scenes and dialogues that could be useful remembering while writing the report. You always felt grateful to your past self. 

Sounds of sneakers gliding on the court’s shiny floor and the ball being thrown and caught filled your ears in an almost relaxing way. 

“Why is she even here?”, you heard a voice saying not so quietly on your right.

You pretended not to hear, struggling to read the same sentence for the third time. 

“Probably trying to find a rebound”, the two girls laughed at the pun. “It’s kind of desperate, if you ask me.”

Dealing with Harry was hard enough, but people you have never spoken to before? Who were they to say anything about you? Why did they even care? And, most of all, why did those stupid comments hurt you? 

“Hey!”

Looking up, your eyes meet Miguel’s again, but this time he climbs the steps, stopping one before where you were. He took his hoodie off, the white shirt underneath going up with it, before coming down all together. It was so quick, but you swore seeing a part of his six pack awakened something in you.

Miguel put his hand through his hair, trying to put it back in place. He proceeded to fold his hoodie and get on his knees, his long arms offering it to you.

“Can you hold this for me?”, Miguel asked, sounding so sweet, yet another thing you weren’t prepared for. He was so close to you, you could see a few of his sweat droplets in great detail. 

“Yeah”, you nodded, feeling his hand palm one of your cheeks, while his lips kissed the other. 

He went back to the court in what felt like too soon. You put your hand where his was just a moment before, you could feel the heat spread through your face. Back at the court, Miguel was smiling at himself and, next to you, the girls stood in absolute silence.

______________________________________________________________

<< chapter 3

>> chapter 5

all chapters

______________________________________________________________

a very good idea playlist

[littlewalken]

jun 26

Antonia from Mad TV and autistic reporter Michael Falk from the Onion News Network work together making syndicated "object interest" stories where they look at stuff. It's called "Okay". This week they're going to Tustin to see where the blimps live. Do you think trains see blimps and wonder what it's like to fly? I don't know.

I'll give you a minute to look up Antonia. She's a forgotten representation of neurodiversion.

Well, I finally got the espresso pie the dolls have been wanting from the surprise balls and picked up a few Disney snacks they're meh about. If we keep them we keep them if we trade them we don't care but none of us want to buy any more of them.

I want to do some sorting today, might be jewelry and part of the treasure chest or it might be some of the mini foods. I want to sort the spooky from the dolls' groceries from the fast food from the whatever.

The spooky shelves did fit on to the silver shelf and that's caused a ripple of let's put this here and that there.

I'm wondering if I can figure a way to do the CYOA story where if you choose say to be the Ramiverse or MCU Spidey earlier in the reading you miss some parts and get other parts that would only pertain to them? Ramiverse never fought The Vulture, MCU doesn't have any Osborns or Gwen, neither were in Civil War.

Something like a spoiler text so if they all end up at Page 65 dealing with a Plot Point one would only see 65a where the other would see 65c and the only way to unlock the text in story is to start some place else any make your way back there.

See, a good writer hurts their brain to make your brain hurt. AI shit couldn't come up with how I'm thinking Over-friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man finally deals with Flash Thompson. Bider-Man would be in the same mind set and possibly the trans MCU but not the regular MCU.

[thealtoduck]

One Time Thing

Flash Thompson x Male Black Cat!Reader

Warnings: Smut, one night stand, bottom!Reader, top!Flash, unprotected sex, use of the word slut, doggy style, anal sex, fingering, reader is kinda drunk, Flash is kinda desperate and kinda slut shames you…

A prequel to the Male Black Cat!Reader series: Masterlist

Summary: Reader needs a ride home from the party and Flash is the only one available and the two decide to have a one time thing…

——

You stumbled around the party with a bottle in hand looking for your friend Caleb. You managed to find him doing shots on the couch making you roll your eyes and say ”What the fuck Caleb? You said you wouldn’t get drunk”.

”It’s fine, Y/n, Flash offered to drive you home” he slurred and took another shot. ”Goddamnit not Flash” you said and Caleb frowned. ”Flash said you two were cool, i’m sorry man” he said apologetically. ”Don’t worry Caleb, it’s fine, you’re lucky you’re my favorite” you said patting his shoulder.

You said goodbye to your friends and went to find Flash. You spotted him talking to his friends so you nudged him in the back and said ”Flash, come on, let’s go”. ”Okay, coming” he said and the two of you left the house and went to his car that was parked outside.

He unlocked his car and the two of you got in. ”So finally alone, huh?” he said in a flirty tone making you roll your eyes. ”Seriously? You offered to drive me just so we could fuck?” you questioned him.

”Bro, i heard you like putting out” he defended himself while you just silently glared at him. ”Sorry- I’m sorry, don’t worry i’ll just take you home” he said apolegetically and started the car.

You sat in silence as Flash started driving thinking about what to do once you got home, you didn’t feel like going to bed yet or watching a movie or anything, so your mind started wandering. Were you actually considering hooking up with Flash Thompson right now?…

Well, you didn’t have anything better to do.

”Hey Flash” you spoke up. ”Yeah?” he answered. ”Wanna fuck?” you asked. ”Wait… you mean it?” he questioned. ”Yeah, i’m bored” you stated. Once you arrived he parked his car outside your house and the two of you snuck inside and up the stairs to your room.

You closed the door after Flash got in and then he asked ”So how do you wanna do this?”. You didn’t answer and just pushed him against the wall and smashed your lips against his. He was caught off guard but then started kissing back.

You pulled off your shirt as he started unbuttoning his own. The two of the moved to your bed, laying down and started making out hungrily. Flash started unbuttoning you pants and helped you pull them down.

Once both of you were in your underwear Flash asked ”Can i top?”. ”Sure” you answered. ”Get on all fours” Flash told you and you did as told. ”You got lube anywhere?” he asked. ”Bedside table” you answered simply. Once Flash had gotten the lube he got on his knees in front of your ass.

He pulled down your underwear revealing you ass to him. ”Fuck, you got a good ass” he said squeezing it, you gave a soft moan as he did. He then spread your ass so he could get to work fingering you open.

You felt him starting to push a lubed finger in to your ass. ”Fuck” you swore, it had been a while since you last hooked up. Flash hushed you and said ”Your parents might hear you”. ”Flash, my mom is in prison and my dad is an alcoholic who’s probably a bottle of vodka deep in sleep, we’ll be fine” you explained.

”Oh… okay” he said adding another finger in to you. Once he had gotten fingered you open he asked ”Ready to take my cock?”. ”I’m ready” you answered. He then grabbed your hips and pushed himself in to you, his lubed dick entering you slowly. You moaned softly uttering a small ”Fuck”.

”Fuck, you got such a tight hole” Flash said blissfully. Once you adjusted he started moving slowly in and out of your ass. ”Look, i know you don’t like me and stuff but i’m gonna fucking give you a night to remember” Flash said slowly inbetween groans.

He then started speeding up his thrusts making you shove your head in the matress while moaning loudly. ”Yeah, taking it like a good slut” Flash said moving a hand from hip to your back pressing you in to the matress. Flash calling you a slut was not a thing you expected to be a turn on…

”Yeah Flash, fuck me like a slut” you moaned. Flash got excited by this and started plowing you more roughly saying ”Yeah, you’re a little slut for me, huh?”. He gave you ass a slap whispering ”Yeah you like that, don’t you?”. Through your ecstasy all you managed to get out was a soft ”Yes”.

You felt yourself getting close and said ”I’m gonna cum”. Flash thrusted deeply in to you saying ”Cum for me baby”. You then reached your climax and came on the sheets below.

As you came Flash’s thrusts became erratic and he said ”I’m gonna fill you with cum like the slut you are”. He then delivered one last thrust as he painted your insides white with his load. He then uttred a last ”Fuck, yeah” as he slowly pulled out of your cum filled ass.

You laid down next to each other on your bed. ”Just so you know i don’t really think you’re a slut, i just-” he started but you cut him off saying ”No, i get it, it’s just kind of a turn on thing”. ”Yeah, exactly” he said.

”Do you mind if i stay tonight it’s kinda late?” he asked. ”Yeah, it’s fine” you answered tiredly closing your eyes. ”Cool…” he said. ”Wanna cuddle?” Flash suggested making you open your eyes.

”Only if you promise to never tell anyone about this” you told him. ”I promise” he said and you went to sleep that night getting spooned by someone you kind of hate.

[buckleymess]

Roller Skates - Robin Buckley

Summary: Summer in Hawkins. Robin has a hopeless crush on one of her customers with roller skates and mini skirts. Steve decides to step in and the crush turns out to be nowhere as hopeless as it has once seemed.

Warning: none

Words: 7,9k

Notes: likes are cool and all, but if you stop by to let me know what you thought about this, it will, in fact, make my day

_______________________________________________________

“How do I look?!” 

Steve peeked at her from behind the shelves, his eyebrows knitting together as he stared at her in utter confusion. “What?” 

“How do I look?” Robin repeated, articulating every word with extra care to a point that it almost looked scary from where Steve was standing. As if that wouldn’t make the message clear enough, she used her hands to gesticulate around herself wildly.

“I heard you.” Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not deaf,” he pointed out. Inspired by her previous actions, he also used his hands, tapped his ear and then showed her thumbs up. 

Robin did not seem to be amused, however, and simply pierced him with a glare. 

“I just don’t know /why/ is that suddenly an issue,” he reasoned while looking around. “There’s no one in here and -,” he cut himself off once his eyes landed on the clock across the room. “Oh...”

And here it was, the well-known Tammy Thompson oh. Aka coming out oh. Aka getting your heart shattered into millions of pieces in a dirty bathroom after puking your whole insides type of oh, as he liked to dramatically call it, just for the sake of teasing her. 

Though the use of it now was nowhere near as dramatic. It meant only one thing. A hot girl in the area. Well, technically, you weren’t in their vicinity /yet/, but you were about to be within a couple of minutes. You always were. Right on the dot. 

“Right. Oh...” Robin nodded her head and stared over at him with her eyes opened wide, still waiting for him to answer her initial question. 

Steve shoved the tapes he had been handling back to the shelves before walking out of the aisle. “She always comes here on Saturday before the closing time. Good thing that now we know better than to have already cleaned the floors because once she storms in here on those skates...” 

“Exactly. She’s going to be here in nine minutes, and you are being literally /no help/. She’s going to push through the door at an ultrasonic speed, looking all dolled-up in that skirt of hers, smelling of cherries and smiling at us both with those incredibly kissable pink lips while she’s going to skate between those shelves, hair swaying in every direction with how quickly and carelessly she spins around and yet... somehow when she stops, the hair is perfect. Not a single one out of place. She’s not even wearing a helmet, for fuck’s sake!”

“She probably doesn’t go that fast to need one, I guess,” Steve offered with a shrug of his shoulders while he moved closer to the counter that she was occupying. He froze for a moment, though, when Robin held her pointer finger up and made him wonder whether he had done something wrong.

“No. But... she’s skating by the road and some stupid driver can hit her and...”

Steve shook his head, face pulled in confusion. “You can get hit by a car, too. Even when you are just walking. Should we all start wearing helmets?”

Robin’s mouth opened for a bit before she allowed it to close again, taking a moment to think about it properly before she nodded. 

“Well, maybe we should,” Robin decided and then shook her head, shutting her eyes closed for a second to show she was done with that conversation. “That’s /so/ not the point though... The point is that she will be here soon, looking like a freaking angel on wheels, while I might be here with spinach stuck in my teeth.” 

“You didn’t even have spinach today,” Steve reminded but gave her thumbs up when she flashed her teeth at him, anyway. “You look good.” He finally said the things she needed to hear, causing her to let out a sigh of relief. 

Only to bring up something she did /not/ need or want to hear at all. 

“You should really just ask her to hang out with you.” His voice was soft and caring, but it still sent her into a panic.

Robin laughed nervously and looked away from him, focusing on adjusting the stationery that they had laying around. “No. No. No fucking way. Not in a /million/ years. Not a chance I’m doing that. Definitely not.”

“I am not telling you to ask for her hand in marriage!” Steve exclaimed and rubbed his hand over his face while he leaned against the opposite side of the counter that she was at. He understood she was nervous and scared. Hell, asking someone out could be a bit nerve-wracking experience as it was. Let alone in a situation like hers, when her chances of scoring were sadly much lower than his. “Look...,” he tried and shifted his body so that he could look at her, “all you gotta say is this: You’re great at skating, and I’ve just got a pair from a friend...”

“I didn’t get a pair from a friend,” Robin objected, blinking at him confusedly. Brows furrowing when he threw his head back with a sigh. Composing himself again, he put on a bright smile when he looked at her. 

“No. But she doesn’t know that, does she?” He pointed out and reached over the counter to flick her nose. “If she says yes, we’re going to find you a pair of skates to use no problem just-“

“Evening!” Your voice filled up the store the moment the entrance door flew open, and you made your way in. “Am I interrupting something?” No one said anything, but you could feel that had arrived into a situation you probably shouldn’t have. 

Steve raised his hand in a little wave, acknowledging your presence, while Robin quickly shook her head. 

“Hey! No, no. Nothing,” she assured you, smiling while she pushed Steve’s hand away from her face. “There’s nothing to interrupt. We were just talking about...” The way she fell silent, looking for the right words, only amplified the thoughts in your mind that were pointing out that you definitely arrived at the wrong time. 

Even Steve found the moment of quiet weird and glanced at her with the side of his eye, prompting her to say something. 

“Stuff.” She finally said in the end, her lips still curled up into a wide smile that faltered somewhat awkwardly a second later. Stuff? Couldn’t she think of something else? Something less.... sketchy? She shrugged her shoulders a bit, defending herself when she noticed Steve rolling his eyes, obviously disappointed with her answer almost as much as she was with herself. If not even worse. 

You nodded your head softly, lips pursed slightly in contemplation. “Stuff sounds interesting,” you agreed, and then stopped beside Steve at the counter. You threw your backpack on the surface and pulled out the pile of movies you needed to return. 

You passed them over the counter to her. “Do you need me to.... or can I?” You waved to the shelves behind you. Usually, you wouldn’t mind sticking by the counter. Quite the opposite, actually. As silly as it was, you enjoyed watching her while she worked. Painted nails, clicking the keyboard, frowning when something was wrong, only for her pretty blue eyes to light up right after when she got it sorted. She trashed your movie taste every time, and you were more than willing to let her, suggesting that maybe she would have changed her mind if she actually watched it. 

Perhaps if she watched it with you. Well, you never said this part out loud. But you did think about it. A lot. 

“You can go,” Robin confirmed, releasing you from sliding your skates on the floor while remaining in one place. 

“If there’s something wrong, let me know. I’ll be right over there so that you can go back to... stuff.”

You disappeared between the shelves, stopping in front of the one holding the newest releases.

“You skate a lot, huh?” Steve asked a couple of moments later, his head suddenly popping up in the same aisle you were in. Steve stepped closer and casually leaned his side against one of the shelves. Promptly, you spun around to face him, moving backwards ever so slightly while your eyes widened in a faked surprise. 

“Do I?” You gasped and you could swear that you heard Robin snort somewhere in the distance. It was a shame that you didn’t get to see it. A part of you wondered whether she had crinkled her nose the same way it did a couple of other times when you saw her laugh. “It’s way faster than walking, you know,” you explained and grabbed three tapes before moving to a different section. You made sure to check Robin. No crinkled nose in sight, but her lips were spread into a large smile. 

Guess you could also consider that one a win. 

“Slower than driving, though,” Steve retorted.

“Yup, that sounds about right. But I don’t have a driving license, my bike got stolen and I don’t really click with the one I got. Plus, this is waaay more fun.” You added one more VHS into your arms and got to the check-out desk with just a couple of long strides. 

“I’ll take these.” You pushed the VHS over to her with a grin. “Don’t judge me too hard on these. They are for my granny.”

“You know what? This one time, I was ready to give you a compliment.” She smirked and raised one of them into the air. “Because this one? Absolute gold. Tell your grandma she has /amazing/ taste and maybe she /should/ influence you a little. The number of times you rented out Xanadu is becoming quite embarrassing for all of us.” Robin teased before her eyes went all wide. “Not that I’m keeping track of how many times you rented a shitty musical with Olivia Newton-John. Well, technically, I do. I have to. We have the system. But it’s not like I keep a /personal/ tracker of what you do. I don’t. That would be weird.” 

You watched her expressive face, unable to stop yourself from smiling. 

As if he had nothing better to do, Steve jogged over to you and rested his forearms on the counter right next to where you were standing. Ruining your little alone moment with her. Again. 

“The stuff we were talking about earlier was how you always come here with these on,” he said, nodding down to your feet.  

“And how you make the whole skating thing look super easy. So...,” he cleared his throat,” I was wondering if you /maybe/ have a free afternoon some time to... you know, give a bit of a helping hand to a complete beginner. Saturday evening works too! I mean, you are already coming here anyway and so you’d just stay around a bit longer. Me and-“ 

Your lips pressed into a thin line for a second as you listened to him talk, but you mustered up a smile before interrupting him. “I’m sorry, but no.” 

You took your eyes off Robin, who was still scanning Xanadu because it was acting up, and glanced at him. His expression was hopeful, expecting, and you felt a droplet of sweat run down your back. That was definitely caused by the heat, you assured yourself, although the air-conditioning in the store was running at its max. 

Steve was a cool guy. Very good-looking, too. He had a bit of reputation going on of trying to swoon all and every conventionally pretty girl of the right age in town. Though the succession rate did not seem to be too high, at least as far as you knew from what you over-heard around the store when you visited. 

You had no interest in taking any part in that for more reasons than just that one. The main, of course, being that there was someone different right there in the store with you who appealed to you much more. 

Going out with him would just be a huge waste of time for the both of you. You just needed to find a good enough excuse. A gentle rejection so that neither of you would have to feel awkward the next time you would come to get your movies. 

Maybe the truth would be the best. Or some of it, at least. “I... I don’t do boys right now.” 

You didn’t see it, but Robin spat out a bit of her water that she just sipped, causing Steve to almost pull a face when he saw her wipe her chin with the back of her hand. Smudging something she had scribbled on it earlier, which also left a bit of a black mark on her chin. On some days, he really did believe that she was a lost cause.

“I promised myself that this would be a boy-less summer. There was a bit of a nasty break-up earlier this year and I... I deserve some time alone. Healing. Finding myself and that whole thing, you know,” you tried to explain.

He blinked at you a couple of times in surprise before he chuckled and tapped his fingers on the counter. “Okay. Good for you. Point taken, I guess, but I didn’t mean that you’d be helping me or /doing/ me... I was talking about Rob.” 

“Oh!” you gasped, mentally slapping yourself for interrupting him earlier. “Then that should not be a problem.” You shook your head a bit too fast and then turned it to her again. “Sure. Right. We can totally do that.” Immediately, your eyes were drawn to the smudge on her chin, which was definitely not there a minute ago. 

“You’ve got something…” You raised your hand to your own face to serve her as a mirror, showing her where the ‘something’ was. “I would have never guessed that this could be something you’d be interested in,” you admitted to her your surprise while she seemed to be rubbing her hand all over her chin except on that one place.

“Wait,” you stopped her and leaned over, pressing your thumb against the black mark and then rubbing it away. The pink in her cheeks turned into a deep red, and you offered her a little, somewhat reassuring smile. “Black marker is the worst. I always have smudges of it everywhere.” You couldn’t remember the last time something like this happened to you, but the chuckle she left out made you feel better about the little white lie you just said. “All good. Pretty as always,” you informed her playfully and pulled your hand back. 

The realisation that you had just touched her face without any type of invitation hit you only now. Your eyes rushed to move away from you and landed on the pile of video tapes you were good to take now. You fished out the correct amount of money from your small pocket. The dollar bills and change prepared in advance. You’ve already learnt that doing the math and scattering the right amount while those beautiful blue eyes watched you was almost impossible. “I’m pretty sure you’ve called my skates a deadly device at least twice.” 

“Three times,” Robin confirmed, taking the money from you. “Which is obviously more than twice, so there was no need for me to be correcting you like that,” she muttered mostly to herself, so you caught just a word here and there. 

“I still stand by that opinion,” she continued confidently while she put the money away. You heard Steve clear his throat nearby. “But we’re all going to die, sooner or later, anyway. And this, at least, seems like a sort of fun way to go. Cooler too, better than choking on a jelly bean or something.”

You listened to her, a smile tugging on the corners of your mouth while you packed your stuff. 

“I’ll see you next week, then.” 

“Okay!” 

“Okay.” Your grin mirrored hers as you spun around and headed towards the door, adjusting the backpack on your back. 

“As in, you’ll come back to return these, or as in, you’ll see me risking my life while standing on one of the most ridiculous devices man has ever created?” 

You chuckled and made a little spin to face her. 

“Both.”

****

“What’s the smell?” Steve said over the thump of the box he just set down on the counter. 

Robin looked at him over her shoulder, pushing the trolley with tapes in front of her. 

“Smell? What smell? I don’t smell anything.” She shook her head before she turned away from him again.  

“I told you to not allow the kid with the puppy in here. Was it adorable? Absolutely. I would give up my life for that little dumb face, but it changes nothing about the fact that puppies are the worst. They pee everywhere and that’s probably what you’re smelling. I had puppy-sat a puppy once and-“

“It doesn’t smell like pee,” he interrupted her and walked over to the aisle she was in. Steve moved around, sniffing before he got close enough to her, and his eyes went wide. “It’s you.” 

“I stink?” The terror was clear on her face when she asked him that. Her gaze fell to her wristwatch. She still had a bit of time. Technically speaking, she probably could rush to the back and freshen up some more before you are would come to pick her up. 

Maybe you wouldn’t even come to pick her up, after all. Maybe you were just being polite when you agreed to last week. Maybe you’d come up with an excuse why the two of you can’t hang out. Or maybe you wouldn’t come at all and you would just mail the rented movies along with a late return fee, never seeing her again…

She raised her arm up slightly to check the stink situation in her pits when Steve quickly shook his head.

“What? No. Not at all,” he assured her, causing her to drop her arm down to the side again. “In fact, it’s very nice.” Steve took some tapes from the trolley to help her put them in place. 

“You know, like girls often wear these overly sweet perfumes when they go on a date? It’s almost like that, but not quite. It’s more… masculine? But not to the point of when you would smell it and immediately think of a dude. More in terms of thinking ‘huh, whoever was the person who was wearing this, they have a fancy event happening,’” he explained, not even trying to hold back his smirk while he kept glancing at her every other second. 

“Well, thank you.” His words calmed her down a bit, but the feeling of his eyes on her made her sigh out. “What now?”

 “I told you it’s a date, and you gave me a lecture about how you being a lesbian doesn’t make every interaction you share with a woman automatically homosexual… I just find it funny how, even though it is not a date, you are still treating it like one.”

 “I’m not!” She exclaimed, cursing when she accidentally dropped one of the cassettes. “It’s just a perfume…” 

“Which you never wear around me, mind you,” Steve persisted.

“Whatever,” Robin scoffed. “It’s not a date.” 

“It so is. Haven’t you heard? She, and now let me quote. Doesn’t do boys.”

“Right now,” she immediately reminded. “She doesn’t do boys, right now.” Robin remembered the quote very well. It had left her turning in her bed for three nights before she talked herself into dropping it, and decided to focus on the latter part instead. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “Her entire face lit up when she found out that she could be hanging out with you. And /I/ felt like /I/ was interrupting ‘stuff’ when she cleaned your fa-”

“Don’t. Don’t even remind me of that,” Robin whined. Not only was it embarrassing, but every time she thought back to that moment, to the feeling of having your hand rub against her skin, she could feel her cheeks starting to burn up. 

He stopped when they both reached to get some tapes and his eyes found her mouth. Without a word, Steve grabbed her chin and leaned closer, taking a good look at the shade of her lips. “You’ve got a different lip colour, too,” he noticed, chuckling when she pushed his hand away. “You are ready for a date.” 

“Shut up.” Robin turned away from him. 

“Plus, I invested my hard-earned money in this already. It’s gotta work.” 

“No one has asked you for that.” Robin shot him a look. She still couldn’t believe that he got her involved in this. She was going to make a complete fool of herself in front of a girl she adored. All because of him and his stupid mouth. 

On the other hand, though, when she made sure not to focus on the whole potentially dying part, she was going to spend some time with you all alone. Which was pretty cool and way more than she could ever achieve by herself. All thanks to him and his stupid mouth. Part of her was feeling bad for not being able to give him the money for the skates just yet. “I’m going to give you half of the money back next week, and then the rest,” she added.

“You don’t have to give me the money back at all. It’s a gift.” Steve pushed into the trolley and began to move away. 

“My birthday is in March. And you gave me a gift then.” 

“I didn’t say it was a birthday gift. Just a gift. People do that for each other sometimes, you know,” he said loudly enough from the next aisle. “I won’t take any money from you. Take it as a thank you for taking over my shifts earlier.” 

“You know I got, like, officially paid for those, right? It’s not like I took them for free,” Robin stated.  

She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him sigh heavily. “Then take it as a payment for your silence ‘til the rest of your shift.” 

Robin stayed quiet for a bit before she nodded. “Yup. I guess I can do that,” she confirmed, not wanting to argue with him any further. “Thank you,” Robin peeped out a moment later. 

“You’re welcome.” 

“You’re the best, you know. Very annoying at times, but the best nonetheless, or maybe because of it. The line is a bit blurred there, hon-”

“Silence,” he reminded. His voice was somewhat stern, but she caught his little smile in the reflection in the window. 

However, the smile was not the only thing she caught in there and she glanced down at her watch again. 

No. This was way too soon. There should be about fifteen minutes left before you would show up. She didn’t have the time to check her hair, or the new lipstick. Nor did she get to take off that stupid, disgusting little vest, or re-apply the perfume, just to make sure. 

Every week you showed up exactly on time, and now, when it mattered the most, you had to change your schedule. It threw her off guard. 

Maybe if she knew that the reason for this sudden change was that you simply couldn’t wait any longer after stressing out about it the whole day, it would made her feel a bit better. But it wasn’t like you were planning to share any of that with her. 

No. She didn’t have to know about any of that. She didn’t need to. It was a little harmless secret that did not need to be shared. 

 “You’re early.” These words greeted you as soon as you entered the store, causing you to stop for a second by the door. 

 “Am I?” you asked cluelessly, your eyes searching for the clock in the room before you let out a little huff. “I didn’t even realise, I… is it a problem?” You wondered, slowly skating further into the store, heading straight to the counter. 

 “Well,” Robin started out, “... no. Of course not,” she assured you, shaking her head. “It’s just… you might have to wait a bit longer before I’ll be able to leave, so like, if you still need to go somewhere, or something, it’s all good.” 

You laid out the casettes on the counter while your eyes followed her as she moved over the room to get closer to you. “Hi,” you greeted her with a little grin, once she was standing opposite to you. “I don’t mind waiting a bit,” you confirmed, your fingers tapping against the surface as you watched her do her work. “I can just hang around a bit… If that’s okay with you.” 

“No,” Steve interrupted the little conversation, and you were ashamed to admit that you hadn’t even noticed him in the room earlier. The two of you looked at him, one pair of eyes looking guilty for even suggesting that, while the other stared at him in utter disbelief. 

“You don’t have to wait,” he specified, shoulders shrugging. “You can leave earlier. It’s usually dead at this hour, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

You looked from him to Robin as she raised her brows. “You sure?” 

“Yeah, yeah. One hundred per cent.” He walked over to behind the counter and pushed her slightly out of the way. “Go get your stuff and get out of here before I change my mind.” 

The moment he said it, Robin dropped the Xanadu VHS and rushed away, heading to the back of the store. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she called over her shoulder, not even bothering to look back. She stopped only when she reached the door and glanced at you. “I’ll be back in a minute. Two or three tops,” she promised before she disappeared and left you in the front alone with Steve. 

At first, he took care of your returns without a word, barely paying you any attention at all. “You’re not going to rent out any new ones?” He wondered. 

 You shook your head simply. “No. I usually drop them off at home and then go out again. I wouldn’t want to break them or lose them if I just kept dragging them alone tonight.”

“Hm,” Steve hummed out. “Makes sense,” he admitted before placing his hand on the counter near yours. “Guess my job is done here, then.”

“I guess it is.” 

You really didn’t need anything else from him at the moment, but he stayed still, eyeing you carefully. “Is that a new lipstick?” 

The question surprised you, but you shook your head anyway. “No. I keep wearing this one all the time. And it’s a lip gloss, actually.” 

“Yeah, right… Well, Robin likes it.” 

“I know,” you admitted, trying your best to fight back the smile that threatened to creep up onto your cheeks. You still remembered the compliment she gave you a couple of weeks back, and you made sure to wear this specific colour every time you came to visit the store. 

“You do, huh?” He mused. 

You were starting to feel a bit uncomfortable. His inquisitive eyes digging right into you as if he were looking for something specific. Could he be onto something? Could he know you were into his friend? 

Robin’s return luckily stopped the panicking train of thoughts in your mind. “So…,” she cleared her throat as she looked over at you. Backpack on her back, roller skates in her hand. “Are we really doing this?” She was really trying to not let the nervosity show, and the smile you shot her then didn’t exactly help. 

 Falling on her ass was one thing. Seeing you smile like that all alone for who knew how long another. Maybe worrying about not getting her hands on knee pads shouldn’t have been her main concern. 

“Absolutely.” You threw your backpack on and turned around, heading towards the door. “Let’s go.” 

****

Visiting the ruins of what used to be the Starcourt Mall definitely wasn’t something she expected herself to do that day. Or ever, actually. The Russians had stopped haunting her dreams only not so long ago, and well, the monsters were still present in them. But lately, you’d been in her dreams, too. 

She didn’t have it in her to talk you out of going to that place. What would she tell you anyway? The truth could not be an option, and the lies known to the public would just make tonight’s ‘not-a-date’ into a pity party if she’d let you know she was there during the fire. 

And so she got on the bus with no further complaints, carefully sitting beside you on the seat. Doing everything in her power to not let your bodies touch, while you both eavesdropped on the couple sitting across from you. 

 The dramatic show was about to end when they reached their stop, a factory on the outskirts of the town, just one stop before the Starcourt stop. 

“Get up.” You stood up beside her. She looked up at you. Blue eyes wide open in confusion. 

“We need to get off at the next one,” she stated while the other passengers emptied the bus already as well. 

“No. This is the final one. The bus doesn’t go there anymore. I mean, there’s kind of no reason for that now,” you explained. “We’re going to have to walk a bit.” 

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” Quickly, she grabbed her backpack and her skates off the floor and got up, rushing to get off as the driver in the front already started to complain. 

You made it out of the bus only in your socks and then put your skates back on on the bench nearby. She didn’t follow your example just yet, and you didn’t expect her to. You had agreed that the Starcourt parking lot would be your training ground. The terrain there was smooth despite the hell right next to it, and there was no danger in the form of passing cars.

You probably wouldn’t meet many of them on your way there by the side of the road, but it was still better to not put her at any unnecessary risk. 

Especially when she had only spent about five minutes standing on them, apparently. 

You skated beside her slowly, stealing secret glances at her in the setting sun. She was, undoubtedly, the most enchanting person you’ve ever laid your eyes on. You thought you did a good job keeping those looks sneaky and all that, but she locked your eyes with hers at one point. 

“Please don’t tell me I have something on my face again,” she whined, raising one of her hands up to her face. 

“No,” you chuckled and shook your head. “I was just, um, looking.” 

“Right. Because you have a working pair of eyes. And that’s what people usually do with them.” She felt like an idiot for reading more meaning in it than there was to it. 

“Race to that sign over there?” You suggested playfully, changing the focus to something else than your creepy staring and pointed to the sign that once used to welcome the customers upon their arrival to the Starcourt grounds. 

Robin laughed. “Doesn’t seem like a very fair race to me.” 

You turned around, slowly backing away from her. “Why? I might have skates, but you had literally spent most of your life running up and down the soccer field….” 

She hissed a bit, head leaning to one side. “You know, me getting into that team was an act of desperation more than anything else. They didn’t have enough players, and I act very fast. And clumsy, too. So the opponents were just very confused most of the time. I kept them on the edge of their seat.” 

“I saw some of your matches. My cousin used to be in your team, too. I’m pretty sure you scored some goals…” Your eyes squinted at her doubtfully. 

“Pure luck.” 

“Passion,” you corrected her. “You probably are the least co-ordinated and the most chaotic soccer player that I’ve ever seen,” you chuckled, making Robin laugh. “But when you set your mind on getting that ball into the net, nothing could stop you.” 

 She smiled wide, her eyes squinting while your heart sped up. 

“Now just get your mind on getting your ass to the sign before I do.” You grinned before you spun around and set out. 

Robin was right. It was not a fair race, but you still expected her to give it at least a try. You heard nothing behind you though and so you turned around to get a look at what she was doing.

With the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of her goofily running over the grass. 

“Hey!” you exclaimed, baffled at the sight of her being much closer to the sign than you were. No matter how fast you would try to go, there was no chance that you would beat her now. Still, you were not going to give up just like that and attempted to race her. The colourful wheels of your skates quickly sliding over the asphalt. 

“Thanks! Setting my mind on getting here before you really helped!” She called out, panting while she waved at your approaching figure. Her side was burning but seeing you speed towards her, face pulled in concentration while the fabric of your skirt dancing around your thighs quickly with every move was definitely worth it.

“Fuck you,” you breathed out once you joined her and she laughed. 

“Never took you for a sore loser,” Robin teased, but you couldn’t even be mad. 

“We’re going to see who’s going to be sore next.” You took off your backpack and handed it over to her. She took it from you automatically, though her expression made it obvious that she didn’t really know why. 

“There’s a helmet and some protective pads. Gloves, too. I think they should fit,” you explained. 

“You serious?” She gasped. “You are a lifesaver, literally. Steve kind of forgot about this pa-,” Robin cut herself off while you just blinked at her. “That’s… nevermind. Thank you. They’ll definitely come in useful.” She sat down on the ground in order to change into her skates. 

It was kind of adorable to watch her carefully put on all the pads, adjusting them a couple of times to make sure that they fit her right. 

She was adorable. 

Absolutely delightful. 

 “Good to go?” You asked once she seemed somewhat content with the state of her protection gear. 

“Not really,” Robin admitted. If she would to survive this, she was definitely going to kick Steve’s ass with those skates. That was for sure. 

“Get on your knees.” 

 Her eyes narrowed on you as if it would help her understand what you just said better. “I’m sorry?” 

“Look.” You lowered yourself onto the ground. “It’s the easiest way to get up,” you reasoned, before showing her how to get up on her own. 

Two minutes later and there she was, standing even taller beside you now when she had those extra inches under her feet. “Well, that was easy,” she commented despite all the previous lamenting. 

“Told you.” You grinned at her and then reached your hands out towards her. 

You had thought about this moment countless of times. You wondered how would it feel to have her hand in yours, and you felt a slight fear when you offered your hands out to her to take. 

There was nothing weird about this, right? You were just offering her some help. She still hesitated, though. You could see it right there in her expression, the precious face too expressive for her own good. 

“I know I needed a bit of support the first time I stood on there but you don’t have to-” you started, slowly allowing for your hands to start to drop when she suddenly grabbed them. The sudden move causing her to lose some stability and held onto her tightly to prevent her from falling down. 

“A bit of support sounds good,” Robin finally let out once she was somewhat securely stood on her feet again. “I guess I just spaced out, sorry,” she mumbled when she looked at you and for a second you could swear that you saw something rather familiar flash in her eyes. 

Just for a moment, the anxiety of having a dangerous secret that cannot be exposed seeping through the both of you. 

It was excruciating how well her palms fit in yours. By the time the sun was completely gone and the parking lot was illuminated by the night sky and a couple of lamp posts that were still working, you’d grown way too used to the feeling of her hold on your hands. She held onto you tightly, too afraid of falling for someone whose knees were already bruised. The only time she ever let go of you being when she fell. She always dropped them right in the moment when it was obvious there was not a way for you to save her. 

The better she got, the less support she needed. Due to the progress, one hand had turned into being just enough of help.

With the two of rolling round the parking lot side by side, your hands joined as you clasped the other carefully. You were feeling proud, really proud of how well she was doing. But you simply couldn’t help but dread the next step when she wouldn’t need your help at all. 

You were not ready to let go of her yet. 

“I must admit, this is way more fun than I expected it to be,” Robin confessed over the sound of cicadas around you. “No wonder you basically never take them off.” 

You had tried to not look at her too much now. The embarrassment of getting caught earlier was still present and burning in your mind. You allowed yourself to look at her better now, though, smiling. 

“Yeah. I especially like skating late in the evening,” you admitted. “Once you get the hang of it, and the streets are empty and you are just…,” you started out, “it just feels like you can do everything, you know? You could be anyone. It feels like you are the only person on Earth.” It was stupid, you realised that as soon as the words left your mouth, but it was too late to take them back now. The best you could do was to play it down and make it sound less… kooky. 

“You can also scream to let the frustration out. That one helps, a lot,” you added after finishing the dance with a little pirouette. 

However, she spoke out before you could. “Well, not everything…” Robin squeezed your hand and even she wasn’t sure if she did it because she needed the support as you took a took or if she squeezed it just because she could.

“Yes, everything. No one is here to see, to judge.” You dropped her hand and moved away from her, doing an awkward little dance. Your chest filled with warmth when she laughed, her nose scrunched up and eyes squinted in almost into just a tiny line. 

“You can sing…,” you cleared out throat before erupting into a song while rolling closer to her and swirling around where she was slowly skating all by herself. The song didn’t ring any of Robin’s bells for a while until the word ‘Xanadu’ made its way to her ears and she let out an exhausted groan. 

Throwing her head back theatrically caused Robin to struggle with the newly found balance. The poor, laughing girl would most definitely fall back if it weren’t for your arms quickly wrapping around her waist. 

“You good?” You checked with her while your hands remained on her sides. 

“Ooof, that was a close one,” Robin chuckled. “I’m good, thanks.” She nodded. 

There was no need for you to keep holding onto her, but you just couldn’t let go. You didn’t want to, and she didn’t pull away. It was the closest you had ever been to her and the sweet musky scent that was surrounding her the entire night felt even more intoxicating now. 

“You said you can be anyone… Who are you then?” She wondered quietly. “Now, late at night, in this parking lot.”

 You gulped, cautiously thinking through your answer. “Someone who doesn’t really want this night to end,” you let out. Offering her a weak smile that grew a little when she matched it with her own. “Someone who’s kind of fucking exhausted by pretending that you are not the most radiant person I know.” 

This was the boldest, and also possibly the stupidest, thing you could’ve said. But you decided to be someone who hoped for the better outcome, at least this once. 

The silence that laid between you then caused your confidence in that decision to waver quite a bit. She said nothing. She just watched you, which was somehow both the best and most tormenting thing to happen to you. 

You just fucked it all up. Well, the new better outcome you could hope for now was that she would keep quiet about it and won’t make it a scene to entertain the whole town, you guessed. 

Suddenly, she leaned in and kissed you. The momentum of the action was too strong and wild to the point of making you fall back down onto the ground. 

It happened way too quickly. Both the kiss and the fall. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’m so sorry,” Robin blurted out, quickly trying to get herself from the top of you. “Are you okay?!” she asked with concern woven in her voice. 

The only reply she got was your laugh and when you raised yourself up on your forearms, you could see her roll her eyes a bit. She offered you a hand before pulling you into a completely seated position. 

“You know, I really wanted to be someone who’s not afraid to kiss girls, but apparently I should be,” she huffed. “Are you sure that you are okay? Do you need me to get someone?” 

“I’m good,” you promised with a smile, and stretched your hand out far enough to stroke her face. “You’d be surprised how many times I got my ass scraped and bruised from falling down. I can survive one more. I can barely feel it, anyway.” 

Your words did not seem to convince her much and so you got up, ready to give her a proof since words did not seem to be enough. 

This action did not bring her any relief, though. Not when the first thing she saw was the little of blood seeping through your clothes. “You’re full of shit. There’s no way you are not feeling that one,” she argued while bringing herself up to her feet as well. 

You pulled up the skirt a bit, checking the scraped and slightly bleeding skin on your ass cheek in the shitty light. “I’ve had worse,” you said honestly, but she was already reaching for your hand. 

For someone who looked like a baby deer just a couple of hours ago, she set out towards where her backpack was laying in the grass quite confidently and the join hands made sure that you were to follow. 

“It’s really not that bad,” you insisted when she let go of your hand and sat down to get to her stuff. 

You meant it when you said that you didn’t want for this night to end, and if she was going to change into her shoes and set out home just because of this, you would be honestly quite heart broken. 

The things she pulled out luckily weren’t her shoes, but rather a water bottle and some bandages. “I came here confident that I’m going to mutilate myself, so I came prepared.” 

“Good thing you have so little confidence in yourself,” you teased while she took off her gloves and washed the dirt away from her hands with some of the water. 

“Come here.” She motioned for you to come closer and then prompted you to lift your skirt up a bit. To her own surprise, she managed to play down the way she choked a bit at the sight of you with your skirt pulled up and your curves exposed under the moonlight quite successfully. 

Carefully, she cleaned as much dirt as she could out of the cuts before covering it with the bandages she had prepared. Her expression focused throughout the whole time. She made sure that the bandage would stick to your skin well by pressing on the edges, her hands then slowly sliding off and stroking over the skin of your thigh as well. 

It felt so silky under her touch, softer than she had ever imagined, and for a moment Robin couldn’t believe that this was not just a silly dream of hers. Surely, she was going to wake up every second, just like she had so many times before. 

When you focused hard enough, you could feel her breath on your skin, which only took away air from your own lungs. Her fingers were gentle and caring when she traced your skin. You had just allowed yourself to close your eyes for a second when she leaned in and just barely pecked you on the area where your ass met your thigh. 

“My mom always used to do that when I hurt myself. A little kiss to make the pain away,” she explained. It was a good thing that you were in the dark because this way, neither of you could see the other one blushing when she looked up to your face again.

“Dunno if it works after the age of six, but why not give it a try, right?” she continued playfully before the cheerful expression fell. “I’m really sorry.” 

“Don’t. It’s fine, promise,” you assured her and got down onto the grass beside her. “I really like who we are, here, late at night, in this parking lot,” you hummed while leaning closer to her. 

She met you half-way, too eager and impatient to wait any longer. You’d both waited more than enough. This time around, you finally got to cherish the way her lips feel against yours. How plump and soft they were. 

They chased you desperately when you tried to pull away for just a little a moment later. You cupped her cheeks and stroked your thumb over it softly as you kissed her upper lip, gently nudging her nose with yours while she pulled you closer. 

In this moment, the time and everything around you felt as if it stopped. It very easily could have. Neither of you would have cared, anyway. Giggles burst from your throats as you lay down on the grass, curious but shy hands stroking over the other while you familiarised yourself with the other’s taste. 

Everything felt so new, but after a while, it was hard to imagine that there had ever been a time when things had not been this way. 

The time felt as if it stopped, but the truth was that it didn’t. 

Your legs were tangled, shirts all crumpled up while your lips were swollen and your chests felt like they could burst from the joy you were feeling. 

The sun was coming up and you both liked the people that you were.

[withlovemark]

i'll follow you everywhere.

warning: idk? some parts are sad

pairing: steve x female reader, slight eddie x reader (again, not really)

words: 11k+ ; this is, by far, the longest thing i've written. that being said, im sorry if there might be small mistakes, i was way too lazy to edit it, im also sorry if some parts feel rushed (i was writing this under a time constraint)

settings: s4 ; so this contains s4 spoilers! (for those who haven't watched it yet)

an: i switched up some of the events that happened in s4 to better fit the reader's plot line. plus, thank you, in advance, to those who take the time to read this! sorry its ridiculously wrong ;-;

one. - everywhere, we were there

(an introduction to who the reader is and how she fits into the story, i suggest reading it first if you haven't already).

-

two.

steve walks into the gym, right behind heidi.  immediately his eyes spot you in the crowd. you looked absolutely beautiful, your green uniform bouncing with every step you took, a wide smile etched upon your pretty face. heidi makes a comment about how it would suck for him if they finally won a championship game the year he was no longer a part of the team. he curses her in his head, thanking her for that reminder. she was right. 

jason makes his speech, he has the urge to punch his stupid little face in. he’s sure anyone can see the look of disgust he’s currently wearing. ’he doesn’t even have great hair.’ 

tammy thompson starts singing and he takes a peek at robin, who was standing with the band kids, instrument in her hand. the pair laughing in their heads. heidi makes another comment, about how good she sounds, and this time he can’t help but roll his eyes. she was wrong. 

he can’t wait for this to be over. all he wanted to do was grab your hand, get out of there and just drive. to where? who cares? his eyes search around for your figure once again. this time, unsuccessful.

the game starts. 

you made a beeline for the restroom as soon as jason started his speech, nose dripping red. in there, you run into max. you haven’t seen her in a while. you shoot her a friendly smile. “you okay?” she asks, grabbing a tissue from her bag and handing it to you. “yeah, i’ve just been overworking my body lately so,” you pinch your nose, “this happens,” you shrug, the only reason you could think of. 

“yeah, i get it,” she whispers, looking down at her shoes. you take the time to really look at her, she looks like she hasn’t slept for days. it was awful, what happened to her brother. even worse that she was there watching the whole thing go down. she’s too young. you should’ve shielded her eyes. you should’ve pulled her away from the scene. you didn’t do either of those things. a flash of guilt. 

your thoughts are interrupted when you hear gut-wrenching noises from one of the stalls. eyeing it suspiciously, eyes darting from the stall and back at max, sharing a glance, an unspoken conversation. fear rising throughout your body. max makes the first move. she’s brave, that one. 

“uhm, are you okay in there?” she yells out. whoever it was, started sobbing, incoherent noises spilling from their lips. that's when you walk over, banging on the door, “hey, open up, we can help,” your voice, gentler than your actions. you come face to face with none other than chrissy cunningham, your co-cheerleading captain.

“chrissy? what’s wrong?” you stare at her, shocked that she was the culprit. 

“i-im just not feeling well,” she refuses to meet your eye. she looks so disconnected. it’s out of character. 

chrissy cunningham was always composed, carrying herself with grace and elegance that you could only imagine. 

you take one step closer and panic rises to her face, pushing you away, she marches out of there. dumbfounded, you watch her. sure, the two of you weren’t the best of friends but you were teammates. you work together. you help each other. and never, in your life, have you ever seen chrissy cunningham act so disoriented. “that was weird,” max breaks you out of your thoughts. “yeah…it was,” you agreed, staring at the door she walked out of. 

much to steve’s dismay, the team won. he was still with heidi. he thinks you’re somewhere with jason. he tries to push those thoughts away, just wanting morning to come bring you in. 

you don’t show up when the sun rises. the cops knocking at your front door, preventing you to do so “are you y/n l/n?” 

“yes officer, is something wrong?” cops showing up at anyone’s house is never a good sign. you try to think of what you’ve done in the past 24 hours to have them standing in front of you. 

“you’re chrissy cunningham's co-cheerleading captain, right?” you nod, a million thoughts racing in your head. your head was pounding. 

“when was the last time you saw her?” you tell them you saw her in the bathroom just last night, leaving out the part where she looked absolutely terrified. you don’t exactly trust the cops. not when they haven’t been doing anything, choosing to turn a blind eye to the dangers that lie and continue to lie in town. he writes something down on his notepad and you can’t help but wonder why he’s here in the first place.

“im sorry… but why are you asking me about chrissy?” you question. his reply makes you go cold, body rigid. you may have been the last person to see her and you didn’t do anything. if only you questioned her more. if only you tried harder to lend a helping hand. if only you ran after her. then maybe the officer wouldn't have told you that “she was found dead this morning.” another flash of guilt. 

meanwhile, steve doesn't even get the chance to wonder where you were and why you aren't at family video yet. dustin barging in, messing up his tapes in the process, and dragging him into yet another series of unfortunate events. something about eddie munson killing chrissy cunningham…or not killing chrissy cunningham? he’s not too sure. he doesn’t like eddie. but he will do anything for that cocky little shit, dustin. so he lets him drag him around town, robin and max in the backseat to eddie’s knife against his neck to nancy eventually joining them, trying to solve another mystery. at this point, he starts considering a field in law enforcement. why should he keep doing these things for free when the cops out there barely do their jobs and still make a higher salary than him. he’s so annoyed and all he wants is to go to you. 

he wonders if you’ve heard the news. he hopes you haven’t. out of everyone here, you were the only one who had some type of bond with the blonde girl. he decides it's best you’re as far away from this as possible, especially since they have no idea what they're currently dealing with, just that it’s “some freaky, wizard monster” that goes by the name of “vecna.”

bickering. lots of bickering. to the point where he just finally gave in. the kids never listen to him anyways. here they were, in possession of a stolen key, breaking into the counselors office. “hurry up and get what you need,” he ushers the kids. max dashes towards the filing cabinet, trying to find something, anything, to explain what’s going on with her and how exactly it links to the story eddie told them about chrissy. 

that’s when she found it. her name, chrissy’s name, freddie’s name and …

she glances at steve, worry in her eyes, sending goosebumps all over his skin. “what?” he asks, removing himself from the wall and walking towards her. 

“y/n’s here too,” she says softly, afraid that if she said it any louder, it would be a truth they could never come back from. steve snatches the file from her, there, in capital letters, was your full name. a trick of the mind, he tells himself, reading it over and over again to make sure he wasn’t just envisioning it. you were seeing ms. kelly? you were having the same symptoms? and then it clicks. the headaches. the nightmares. 

he’s terrified. color draining from his body, almost like he’s seen vecna himself. 

a noise outside the halls snaps him back to defense mode. grabbing the nearest object he could find – a green lamp. good enough. he refuses to stay here any longer, just wanting to make sure you’re okay. he keeps the kids behind him as they slowly turn the corner. lucas sinclair. steve scolds him, “jesus sinclair! i could’ve taken you out with this thing!” as the boy muttered sincere apologies. their screaming stops to a halt when they hear yet another unwanted sound. crouching once again, turning off their flashlights, steve getting ready to hit whoever it was that was coming their way. 

you heard him, you could spot who that voice belongs to a mile away. plus it wasn’t hard not to when no one else was supposed to be on school grounds. you followed the hushed voices and finally came face to face with four screaming faces. you scream back, hand clutched around your heart as soon as you notice the familiar individuals. 

“what are you doing here?!” steve yells, hands slowly releasing the lamp that was once tightly gripped around his knuckles. 

“what are you!?” it made more sense that you were here over a boy who’s already graduated. it is your school and you did have a key to the gym, being the cheerleading captain and all. don’t question it. strict authorities barely exist in hawkins anyway. 

you look around, eyes darting from steve to the kids. there in max’s hands, you spot your name written on a brown envelope. an envelope you see every morning before your first period. eyebrows furrowing, “is that my file?” you question. 

steve remembers where he’s at and the events that just transpired, his voice gaining your attention once again, “you’ve been seeing ms. kelly?” sympathy flashing in his eyes. you don’t want to see it, avoiding his gaze, looking at literally anything else but him. he takes that as a yes. “why didn’t you tell me?” desperation. he sounds heart-broken. 

“that’s not exactly something to brag about,” you muttered, embarrassed. 

“you don’t trust me?” he eggs on and you feel nothing but guilt. “you don’t want me to know who you really are?” you stare at him. his eyes are darker now and you wonder if your mind is playing tricks on you. “because you know i could never love you if you do.” you look behind him, the kids no longer there. and then you hear the chime of a clock from a distance, almost like it’s taunting you. “steve-”

“you know,” he clicks his tongue, cutting you off. “you’re the reason we’re here in the first place. why we're always running. always fighting for our lives. and now, chrissy cunningham is dead,” his voice morphing into something truly evil. chills spreading throughout your body. eyes, watering. “and it’s all. your. fault.” you can’t breathe. he was saying everything you were afraid to admit. the truth. it rings loudly in your ear. you run. 

from the other side, steve stares at your unresponsive body. he thinks back to eddie’s words. taking two large steps until he was right in front of you, his hands going straight to your shoulders trying to shake you awake. “y/n, do you hear me!” he yells, the kids making their way towards you, calling out for you. 

“wake up!!” his voice so loud, a hand on your cheek. his eyes trying to find some sort of life in your now, empty ones. that twinkle he was used to seeing, gone. 

“y/n come on, come back!” he begs. 

you finally do. letting out a gasp, eyes wide, catching your breath. 

“what just happened?” you were back at the school, brown, worried, eyes boring into your very confused ones. 

“fuck, you scared me,” steve whispers into your ear, wrapping you in his arms. holding you close to him. his heartbeat calms you down. 

the sound of an engine coming averts everyone’s attention. “as much as i love seeing you guys all lovey dovey, we really need to go! that’s jason and he’s after me!” lucas panics. you quickly pull away from steve, feeling awkward at the kid’s comment, steve’s eyes remaining on you.

you have no idea what’s happening but the urgency in lucas’ voice snaps you into action. ever since lucas joined the basketball team, you’ve taken him under your wing, treating him like your little brother. you made sure to watch over him, keeping jason off his back. you’re not going to stop now. 

“get out of here, i’ll buy you guys some time,” you declare, finding your voice. 

“what?! no!” steve shakes his head “no way! i am not leaving you here! especially not with jason” he argues, rolling his eyes, hands on his hips. the kids look back and forth, wondering who they should listen to. 

dustin makes the final verdict, whining, “steve, we have to gooo,” as he pulls on his arm. 

“you guys just saw what happened right ?!” he’s frantic now “i’m not leaving without her. that’s final.” he looks down at the kids, standing his ground, arms crossed. 

a car door shutting echoes throughout the night. “oh, for the love of god steve, go!,” you push him towards the exit. “i’ll meet up with you later,” you say, making your way to the entrance, heading straight to jason, not bothering to wait for a response. steve is furious, watching you walk the opposite direction, wanting to follow you but the three kids currently clinging unto him makes it hard to do so. he reluctantly follows, accepting defeat, but not before glancing at you one last time.  

max looks back at you, only for a second, whisper-shouting a “meet us at the wheeler’s” before they’re dragging their favorite babysitter out of there. 

“y/n?” jason‘s shocked expression greeted you. you were the last person he expected to find tonight. but the sight of you has his eyes softening. you feel bad for him. you’re not entirely sure why the kids are running from him. or why he’s suddenly the villain of whatever twisted situation you’re in. you don’t have time to question him, just wanting him as far away from the rest. 

“hey jase, you ok?” it was a stupid question, you knew that. how could anyone who loved chrissy be okay in this situation. before he could answer, your eyes drift along to steve’s car that was getting further and further away. the blonde boy follows, a look of betrayal evident on his face as soon as he saw through your eyes. 

“you were hiding sinclair?!” he yells at you. eyebrows furrowed. attacking. gaining your full attention. 

“sinclair? i have no idea what you’re talking about,” you try to remain as calm as possible, making sure you don’t sound suspicious. 

“where the fuck are they going?!” he’s so angry, his face turning a bright red, vein popping out, as he grabs your wrist, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

“i don't fucking know what you’re talking about jason!” you lose your cool. 

“he’s hiding chrissy’s killer!” 

“what?” you ask, stunned, you’re sure you didn’t hear that right.

“eddie munson. their cult leader. that stupid club they have — hellfire? well turns out, it’s not just a stupid club… they’re - they’re demonic!, they’re sacrificing people to satan and i need to stop them.” he sounds like he’s giving another one of his motivational speeches and if it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation, you would’ve laughed in his face. so fucking hard. 

also, eddie munson — a killer? it’s hard to imagine. he’s incredibly annoying, sure, but he couldn’t even hurt a fly. 

“do you realize how insane you sound right now?,” you reply, finally pulling your now, very red, wrist away. 

“i’ll prove it to you. i will.” he growls, jumping back into his car, his minions right with him. driving away. you try stopping him, knocking on his car window, all he does is press on the gas a little hard, leaving you there, alone. 

steve cannot believe he’s sitting on his ex-girlfriends couch, in her basement, instead of being by your side. robin and nancy are still out. he refuses to leave this house without seeing you. he’s anxious, every tick of the clock felt like a gunshot to his mind. his legs, bouncing. it’s been exactly thirty-three minutes and you still haven’t walked in. he really shouldn’t have left you. 

damn, these kids. 

“she’s going to be okay, steve, we’ll find a way,” dustin assured him, already feeling liable if anything were to happen to you.  

“yeah but how about the whole vecna curse, we still don’t know anything” steve answers quietly, making sure the boy knows he’s not upset at him. 

“you should tell her” lucas chimes in, “tell her what?” he looks at him, wondering what the boy knew that he somehow didn't. 

“that you’re in love with her,” dustin says like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“i-im not in love with her!” he stutters.

“uh huh, sureee, ok,” max says from the desk she’s sitting on. she doesn't even look up at him yet he knows she’s rolling her eyes, her sarcasm apparent. she goes back to writing, or something, god knows what she’s doing. 

“i’m not! okay!” he turns to dustin, his eyes bulging out, “you literally just confronted me earlier about being in love with nancy,” he points out, “newsflash guys, take it from an adult, you don’t have to have romantic feelings for every person of the opposite sex!” he explains, hands waving around in large motions. 

“ohh kayy, we get it! you don’t have to be so defensive,” dustin comments and steve swears he wants to punch him as bad as he wants to punch jason. dustin’s fate is saved by the bell when you finally enter the room, capturing everyone’s attention. 

steve was up in no time, walking straight towards you, arms embracing you. “are you okay? are you hurt?” he inspects your face. you pull your sweater a little lower, not wanting him to see your wrist. 

“i’m fine, sorry i took so long i went home to change and grab some of my things, i don’t exactly want to be fighting another monster in my uniform,” you explain. he nods, noticing the duffle bag hanging from your shoulder, “you should’ve called me, i could’ve just picked you up,” you shake your head, “it’s okay, i’m here now.” 

max walks up to you, immediately asking  “back there, was that your first vision?” 

“vision? uhm - i guess? yeah?,” at this point, you’re past confusion. you’re lost. 

“ok. good. good. that means you have more time than i do,” they all nod. sadness enveloping the air. 

“more time?” your eyebrows raising, sitting on the couch, steve right behind you.

“yeah,” max nods, “by the way, here,” she hands each one of you a letter, steve asking her what it's for. a “fail-safe” she said. you shake your head, closing your eyes for a second before taking a huge breath, “can someone please tell me what the hell is going on?” you say it so calmly, it’s almost scary. you were drained. not having the energy to raise your voice.

they explain to you what they do know. starting with where eddie munson comes into play – how he was there the night chrissy died. the mention of chrissy’s name makes you wince, steve notices, his hand going straight to your knee, providing you some comfort. they continue, telling you that everyone vecna has cursed has had the same symptoms (headaches, bloody noses, nightmares) and every single one has died. 

“well, isn’t that great,” you butt in. “just, peachy,” max adds and you try to force a smile though it probably just looked like you were hurt. you were the only two people in this room who really has a grasp on how scary this vecna wizard is. max goes on, telling you that she saw a tall grandfather clock in her vision. you confess, telling her you heard it. 

“everyone died except for an old dude named victor creel that nancy stumbled upon, being the only known survivor,” dustin finishes summarizing. you try to take it all in, sitting there, staring at the objects on the table in front of you, processing every information. 

“so what do we do?” you ask, looking around. 

“we wait for nancy and robin,” steve replies, his grip on your knee tightening for a second. right at that moment, almost like everything was an act, the two girls are rushing down to the basement. 

“okay, so,” nancy starts, “we have a plan.” determined. 

robin spots you, “nice for you to finally join us,” she smiles, the first genuine smile you’ve seen tonight. 

“yeah, well, i’m one of the cursed ones,” regretting your words as soon as you saw her face fall. 

“oh shit.” no one knows what to say. 

“what’s the plan?” an attempt to break the awkward, sad tension that hung in the air. 

nancy coughs, “well..” she explains their plan of going to pennhurst asylum and paying a visit to victor creel by talking to the director about a made up thesis on paranoid schizophrenics. they would be going in as ruth and rose.

“ruth?” steve questions, eyebrows raised at nancy. she raises both her eyebrows at him, a proud smile on her lips. you don’t like the interaction. not one bit. but now’s not really the time to focus on that. 

“wait..wait.. wait a second,” steve’s voice beside you raises, realization striking him, “where’s mine?” nancy gives him a knowing look before walking away. he runs after her and into her room. from a distance you hear, “you’re out of your goddamn mind if you think im letting you two go in there without me!” 

“uhm, excuse you, robin and i actually make a really good team,” nancy scoffs. robin grabs your hand, following the duo into nancy’s room. 

“oh my god, you have a tom cruise poster,” robin points out, going straight to the poster next to her bed. you think back to halloween night when the couple was dressed as lana and joel goodsen and you’re very aware what that poster symbolizes. you glance at nancy, she notices, “th-thats old,” she defended as she pulled several clothing items out of her closet. you felt so out of place. you’ve never really had a friendly relationship with the girl, pretending like you don’t know each other in the halls. you’re not even sure you’ve spoken a sentence to her before. there was just never a need to, ironic, since you’ve been on the same boat for so long. 

steve continues insisting that he should go, “c’mon nance, i could, i don't know, i could turn on my…my charm,” he snaps his fingers. the use of nancy’s nickname slipping from his lips leaves a sour taste in your mouth. nancy shakes her head, “not the charm we need,” 

“ouch,” he gets a quiet chuckle out of you, leaning against nancy’s drawers, eyes falling to your feet. steve looks back at you, nancy still going on and on about how they need to be as convincing as they possibly could, acting as academic scholars, the director they're going to interview being someone who is highly respected and not easily fooled. 

“holy shit, there’s a ballerina in here,” robin whispers, gaining another eye roll from steve. 

“academic scholar, she’s giving you academic scholar?” robin’s offended. 

you come to her defense as quick as you possibly can, finally speaking up, “no, but…” you walk towards nancy, who was still looking at her closet, having a hard time to decide. “may i?” you ask, she steps to the side giving you a full view. you spot a pink dress, perfect for an academic scholar. pulling it out, you show it to the rest, a smile on your lips, “she will,” you finish, sending robin a wink. robin wishes she backed up steve. maybe then he would’ve taken her place and she didn’t have to be wearing nancy’s dress. 

“how about you? you can go instead!” robin suggests in which steve aggressively refuses to, “no, what if she has a vision while you guys are there, how are you gonna explain that huh einstein?” he scoffs.

“it’s settled then, it’ll be me and robin,” nancy ends the debate, steve still looks unsure, but then he looks back at you and he knows he can’t, and won’t, leave your side.  

“fine, but you call me as soon as you need me nance,” he ordered. his voice stern. a genuine look of concern so visibly seen. you wonder if he still loves her.  

you wish the girls good luck. finding yourself back in the basement, on the couch. the boy’s watching over you and max. steve pulls you to the other side of the room, both of you getting comfortable on the floor, sitting side by side. 

“do you want to talk about it?” he murmured, hands wrapping around yours. how do you even begin to tell him that he was the person in your vision? you simply can’t. so you shook your head no. he doesn’t press any further, “when you do… want to talk about it, im here, yeah?” he whispers by your ear, only for you to hear. you lay your head against his shoulder, eyes going straight to your interlocked hands. you wonder how long you’ll have this. 

max makes her way to the both of you, cutting the moment short, walkie talkie in hand, “if we go to east hawkins, would this still reach pennhurst?” you know exactly what she wants to do. hell, you should probably follow in her footsteps and start saying goodbye to all the people you love. you’re not as strong as her though. you haven’t accepted it. 

steve refuses, his eyes begs you to agree with him. you don't. it was four against one. and max makes a rather compelling argument about not wanting to spend her last possible day in the wheelers’ basement. you couldn’t agree more. 

“henderson, that super walkie of yours better reach pennhurst,” he sighs, finally unlocking the car doors. it feels normal at first, you sitting in the passenger seat, steve behind the wheel. the kids in the back. the only thing reminding you of the situation you're in was the loudest silence that hung above everyone's head. steve steals glances at everyone through his mirror, making sure that no one has drifted far away. you all make it to max’s house, vecna-free and you thank whoever is up there for the few moments of normalcy. she enters her home, steve warning her not to take too long. max promises she’ll be back in twenty seconds. 

the boys go out, making sure they keep an earshot away from max, the drivers seat window remains open, doing the same for you. you stay in the car, feeling like absolute shit. head leaning against the window, eyes closed, trying to relieve yourself from the current discomfort you were feeling. 

“hey, hey, you okay?” steve’s voice hushly calls out for you. you open your eyes, ready to tell steve that you’re fine and he shouldn’t worry. 

instead you were met with the most heartbreaking frown on the lips of the person you come face to face with. a cry, “why didn’t you pick me up that night?” will byers’ face come into view. “y/n, i called for you. i needed you. where were you?,” once again, you’re frozen, unable to move, “you’re so selfish!,” the boy now shouting at you, “useless!,” his voice gets louder and louder, morphing into that same evil voice, “it’s all. your. fault!”

“please, p-please stop,” you cry out. “you did this to me.” and then you feel branch-like hands brush against your cheek, “y/n…you brought me alive, you belong here, this is all your doing.” he’s right by your ear. the clock chiming again, this time, louder. you turn around, meeting vecna for the first time. 

and then you were back to reality, gasping. eye’s scanning, hands going straight to the dashboard of the car, trying to reach for anything that can verify your location. you spot the boys in front of the car, still waiting for max as you try to calm yourself down. quickly, you wipe away the tears that have fallen, composing yourself as best as you could. you’re just glad none of them noticed. you keep it to yourself. 

max finally walks out. she’s flustered. demanding steve to, “just drive.” he does. you look back at her, asking her if she’s okay. she doesn’t answer, focusing instead on the trees outside her window. you can tell by her actions that she must have had a vision. you’re sure you looked exactly the same way just a couple minutes before. you all sit in silence once again. driving until you were at the cemetery. max goes straight to billy’s grave, letter in hand. 

this time, you sit outside with lucas, leaving dustin and steve in the car. “you okay?” you ask the boy.  “no. im, scared,” lucas admits, eye’s immediately watering. you pull him into a tight hug. he’s always been so strong, so understanding to the people around him. seeing him like this hurts you.

“we’ll figure it out,” you say after finally releasing him. 

“how are you so sure?” 

“we always do.” you’re not really sure who you’re trying to convince. the boy or yourself?

steve anxiously taps on his car window before finally acknowledging that it's been long enough. lucas tells him to give her a bit more time. “i have, ok sinclair, if she wants to get a lawyer, she can, im calling it,” lucas shares a glance with you. this time, you agree with steve. he was out of there in no time, running straight to max. 

“max, time to giddy up, yeah?” you hear him ask. no response. you hear him repeat her name. still nothing. he’s fully yelling for her to wake up now. in a second, the three of you are right by his side, all calling out to the ginger headed girl. steve grabs dustin by his shirt, ordering him to call nancy and robin. dustin runs back towards the car, stumbling a little bit, curses spilling from his lips. it takes incredibly long to finally get an answer, but once he does, dustin comes running back, bag full of tapes in his hand. 

“what song?! what’s her favorite song?!” he yells. 

“why?!” lucas yells back. 

“it’s too much to explain right now. what’s. her. favorite. song?!” you all scramble trying to find the song lucas mentioned. he finds it. snapping it into the player, quickly placing the headphones on max’s head, hoping to god it works. she stands, eyes still white, you all watch in shock. and then she starts floating in the air and you’re afraid it’s too late. you find your voice, calling out to her, tears falling freely down your face. she was so high now. you look at lucas, ready to shield him away from the sight that was about to come. instead you hear a gasp, max was falling, hyperventilating. lucas holds her, she grasps onto him, whispering that she’s okay. that she’s here. you reach out your hand, your palm making contact with her knee. just making sure. 

none of you can believe it worked. thank you, kate bush. 

back in the comfort of steve’s car, he pulls something out of his glove box, placing it in his player. everywhere by fleetwood mac filling every corner of his vehicle. you’re shocked, you didn’t even know he knew your favorite song. steve glances at his rearview mirror, max has her head resting against lucas, kate bush still playing in her ears, dustin with his eyes closed, chest rising up and down, exhaustion creeping up on them.

“i promise we’ll get you your own portable player later,” he whispers, not wanting to wake the kids. you smile, “thank you,” before grabbing his hand and placing a soft kiss on his knuckles. he brings his hands up to your cheeks, “don’t scare me like max did, ok? ever,” he pleads, eyes begging. you don't promise anything. instead you held his hand a little tighter. 

he finally drives back to the wheelers, lucky for you, mike had a perfectly working player he left behind. you and max, now matching, everyone hoping that as long as the music is playing, nothing can take you both away. that was the first night everyone really got to rest. 

well, everyone except for the cursed two, the sound of blaring music getting ridiculous. 

“what if i start hating this song, what happens then?” you joke around with the girl, max chuckles at your statement. “i'm hoping my other favorite songs works,” she continues, you teasingly gasp, “this is the only song i know.” you share a smile before everything got quiet. steve’s light snores right by your ear, your shoulder being his pillow for the night. 

“have you seen him?” max asks you, breaking the silence once more. “vecna?” you nod. admitting to her that you had a vision in the car while you were at her mom’s house. she asks you what your visions were and after making sure that everyone was still fast asleep, you guys sneak out, sitting instead in front of the wheeler’s front porch. you tell her about your visions, she tells you about hers. 

“if it helps, i can tell he’s completely in love with you,” max advised. a nice thought that you somehow can’t invite in. “he loves me as a friend,” you correct her. because if he ever did loved you as more than that then why was he still looking for love somewhere else?

“maybe he just doesn’t know it yet, let’s face it, he’s not really the brightest,” max urges. she earns a chuckle from you and you find yourself agreeing to the last bit, “no… he’s not,” you smile, picking at your shoes, “but i love him even more for it,” you confess. after a while of sitting in silence, the air gets a little too cold, you both head back inside, taking your place right next to steve, finally allowing your head to fall on top of his. arms immediately finding its way around your waist. 

the next morning you all make your way to victor creel’s abandoned house right after nancy pieced together max’s drawings. the dark, cold house sends chills all over your body. the connection to vecna feeling a little stronger, you look at max to see if she feels it too only to find her already staring back at you. the only confirmation you needed. you knew the group was searching in the right place. 

steve asks everyone where they got their flashlights, dustin quickly mocking him before you pull the extra one you packed in your duffel bag, handing it to him. he utters a small, “thanks,” shaking his head at dustin. max grabs everyone's attention, a flashlight shining on the grandfather clock you're sure has been the one you're hearing.

“you guys see that, right?” steve and dustin both assure her that they do. facing the clock makes you feel lightheaded, losing your step, steve’s hands making it’s way to your back, balancing you. you remove your headphones for a quick second, just wanting to calm the pounding of your head. as soon as you looked back up, the clock was no longer standing its ground. instead it’s become attached to the wall, chiming so loudly you think that the noise is actually coming from inside your head. 

“you came to me, y/n…do you accept it now? your fate”

closing your eyes, you try to shake him away, reminding yourself that this was all a bad dream, that he wasn’t real and that you were safe at the house with your friends beside you. you start hearing the tune of everywhere once again, but you can’t find the courage to move. 

in the walls of victor creels house, the group stares at your detached soul. steve places the headphones back on you just as quickly as you took it off. 

“it’s almost your time,” vecna whispers in your ear. 

their flashlights start to flicker and they’re all unsure of what’s happening. but then you were back. “i told you to not scare me like that,” steve scolds, his hands wrapped gently around your face, while you mutter out a sorry. 

“just…don’t remove your headphones anymore, yeah?” robin concludes. you feel awful for making them worry. nancy tells everyone to partner off, in hopes that you can find something quicker and get the hell out of there. steve keeps a hold on you, letting go only once you’re up the stairs. you observe the room that you’re in, flashlight shining on various amounts of picture frames. steve’s on the other side, crouched down, examining a bottle he found on the grate of the floor. he feels a spider crawl up his shoulder causing him to stand and stumble back into the arms of his ex-girlfriend, “why, wh-what’s wrong?” nancy’s voice snaps your head to their direction, your eyes filled with the same amount of concern laced in her voice. 

“there was a spider,” steve admits, “a black widow,” he says out of breath, blocking the doorway, “don’t go in there.” 

“oh… oh wait,” nancy reaches for his head, steve gets frantic, “stop moving,” he listens. her hands find its way into his hair, removing webs that tangled up in the boy’s locks. robin notices you watching them from across the room, she breaks the moment up for you, making a joke, “if there’s a spider nesting in there you’re never gonna find it until it lays eggs and all the babies spill out,” robin's voice breaking you out of your trance, choosing to focus again on the pictures behind you. you still listen. “what’s wrong with you?” a question directed at robin, making her chuckle. 

he continues talking to nancy, bringing up how you should all go on a group date after killing vecna and saving the world. he makes it very clear to the girl that he wasn’t dating robin, robin quick to his defend, “platonic with a capital P.” you hear nancy ask about you. she’s obviously interested in him. it takes a while for steve to answer. he stares at your back before his eyes go back to nancy, shaking his head, “i-i can’t” was all that whispered from his lips. two words that were loud enough to wilt the flower in your heart. 

“you’ve been looking at that picture for a while now, what? you think he’s hot or something?” robin’s trying to distract you, you know she feels bad. you smile at her, appreciating her efforts, “i don’t know, he’s kind of growing on me,” you tease, “you’re gross,” you two share a laugh that rings throughout the room, finally walking out and into another. 

steve looks longingly at you. you're out of earshot when he found himself telling nancy, “i-i would date her it’s just i-i can’t afford to lose her,” nancy looks at him sympathetically, “why do you think you’ll lose her?” 

“i lost you, didn’t i?” he points out, his insecurities getting the best of him. he may be steve harrington but that doesn’t save him from the unwanted thoughts of not being good enough. his last relationship being a testament to that feeling. nancy finally removes all the webs, sending him a sympathetic smile. something in his heart twitches, realization dawning upon him. 

“great, thanks,” he say, “guess we should, uh- get back to the investigation,” ending their conversation with a line from sherlock holmes he picked up from dustin, he’s pretty sure he said it wrong. nancy shakes her head, smiling at the ground. you’re standing in the hall, not missing the way she blinks her eyes, almost like she’s remembering something. a feeling from the past, maybe? 

she finally looks up, making eye contact with you. you notice you’re staring, “s-sorry,” you mutter, walking away and joining the rest of the group. nancy let’s out an awkward cough, following.

the chandelier starts flickering, just like their flashlights earlier, the light, buzzing, “it’s like the christmas lights,” nancy points out. everyone but robin understood what she meant. she quickly explained to her how the lights came to life when will was in the upside down, the events sending shivers down your spine. vecna’s words regarding your selfishness repeating in your mind. that guilty feeling you could never let go of. 

“vecna’s here,” you say, catching everyone's attention. steve looks worried, how do you even know that?  “i can feel him,” you continued. max agrees. 

“he’s just on the other side?” lucas mutters. and then the chandelier goes out. “i think he just left the room,” robin states. questions arise, “did he hear us?,” “can he see us?,” amongst the group. lucas turned to both you and max, making sure you both still had your headphones in. nancy suggests everyone turn off their flashlights and spread out. she really is the brain of this group. 

separating into different rooms, robin the first to break the silence, “i got him!” in an instant you were all at her side. flashlight immediately flickering from hers to steve’s, “oh, i think he’s moving. he’s moving! he’s moving,” he confirms, leading the way, all of you right behind him, up the stairs, and “shit, i lost him.” 

max notices the light that’s flickering through the doors of the attic. you follow it like a herd of moths. dustin making a good point “hold up, guys. what if he’s leading us into a trap?” no one listens. curses, once again, slipping from the boy’s lips. reaching the top, you’re all face to face with a single light bulb, flashlights simultaneously flickering. the energy increases and the bulb explodes. everyone briskly turns away, steve has an arm over your head, shielding you from the shards of glass that went flying across the room, “let’s get the hell out of here.” 

-

now seated in nancy’s car, right in between lucas and max, the group headed towards eddie’s hideout, promising to bring him food. the sight of the police cars alerts everyone. you all scramble out, nancy leading the way, listening to what the news reporters were saying. another person was found dead – patrick mckinney. you place a hand on lucas’ shoulders, trying to provide some sense of comfort. 

the police ended up releasing eddie’s name to the public, the nightmare you were all dreading, looking at each other, “oh man, this is not good. really not good,” steve states the obvious. a static sound from dustin’s walkie comes alive – eddie. the group walks away from the scene as fast as they can. you try to keep up but the sound of your name stops you in your tracks, “y/n l/n,” one of the officers. you signal the rest of the group to keep going. dustin quietly tells eddie to wait. they stop at a distance, all eyes on you. 

“hi officer,” you greet. 

“what are you doing here?” the officer interrogates, looking at you and back at your friends. you follow his line of vision, your eyes glaring at the group for not following your instruction. 

“well, as you see, i was driving around with my friends and w-we saw the cop cars and got curious,” you try to sound as convincing as possible. he nods.

“hmm. you ever heard of ‘curiosity killed the cat’?,” the officer questions you, eyebrows raising. 

“are you implying something, officer?” 

“it’s just a little suspicious, don’t you think? you were probably the last person who saw chrissy before she died and now you’re here at another crime scene…not looking so good for you,” he explains, jotting something down on his stupid note pad and all you wanted to do was tear it to pieces.

“i’m sorry? are you suspecting that i did this?”

“didn’t you?” before you could reply, another officer is calling for him. he looks at you, “we’ll talk later,” he grumbled, walking away. you hastily make your way back to the group, “what the hell was that?,” steve asks. you brush it away, “nothing, it’s just i now may also be a suspect.”

“what? they have no evidence,” nancy points out, you shrug. “not having evidence hasn’t really stopped them before, they just need someone behind bars, someone to blame,” you state. “i mean, that’s why they’re looking for eddie, right?,” you glance at dustin. in an instant, his back to talking to his walkie. 

eddie informs him that he’s at skull rock, “yeah, i know where that is,” steve immediately replies. through the walkie you can tell eddie was shaken up. you wonder how he’d feel if he saw you, you haven’t spoken to him since elementary school, when you gave him a peck on the cheek, confessing your love for him and and he ran away from you, crying about how girls have cooties. your first heartbreak. you don’t give it another second, the group heading to skull rock. 

steve and dustin banter, as usual, “dude, i’m telling you, you’re taking us the wrong way.”

“it’s north, im positive, i checked the map,” 

“you do realize skull rock… it’s a super popular make-out spot?”

“yeah, so?”

“yeah, well, it wasn’t popular until i made it popular, alright? i practically invented it. we’re heading in the wrong direction” steve argues, walking the opposite way. dustin looks at you, like he’s telling you to call steve back and tell him he’s wrong. you shrug, following steve. the kid was smart but he really did have this one wrong. 

“really, y/n? you’re betraying me and my compass like this?” dustin sniffled. 

“sorry kid but im 100% positive that steve’s right on this one,” you giggled, looking back at him. 

lucas looks at you skeptically, “wait… 100%? how are you so sure?” at that, you turn around, quickly catching up to steve. after a few more steps, you finally arrive at your destination.

“boom, bada bing, bada boom. there she is, henderson. skull rock,” steve is proud, “in your face, man, in your stupid, cocky little face,” he continues gloating, you almost feel bad for the kid. “it doesn’t make sense,” dustin mutters. you place a hand on his back, a small smile on your lips. steve tries to get him to accept that he’s wrong, calling him a butthead in the process. even in a life or death situation, those two are still at each other's necks. 

eddie jumps out from a tree and you swear you almost passed out, “i concur, you, dustin henderson, are a butthead,” way to make an entrance, you almost roll your eyes. dustin gives him a quick hug, eddie looks behind him. 

“y/l/n, you’re here too?,” he comments, an amused expression on his face. 

“munson,” you nod, tight lipped. steve glances between the both of you. whatever that little interaction was. he doesn’t like it. he doesnt get to ask how you two know each other, the rest of the group finally catching up. eddie, once again, explains what happened. his walkie, drenched. him, running. 

nancy asks him if he remembers what time it happened, the group connecting the dots between the exploding lightbulb and the death of patrick mckinney. 

“hey, uh, henderson’s not, uh, cursed, is he?” eddie questions, you all turn your head towards the curly headed boy who was currently pacing back and forth, compass still in hand. 

“cursed? nah, he’s fine. mental? absolutely.” steve mocked, still bitter. 

“BOOM!” dustin yells, scaring the living hell out of everyone, you can’t take it anymore, “seriously, i don't think vecna’s my biggest problem, you guys are literally going to send me into cardiac arrest,” you scold, looking back at him and eddie. dustin lowers his voice, whispering now, “bada…bada…boom.” steve shakes his head, unamused. 

“i was right,” they argue once again before dustin explains what’s been going on with his compass. something about an electromagnetic field. 

and a gate to the upside down. 

“we’d have a way to vecna. and a shot at freeing max and y/n from this curse,” dustin finishes, giving you a sliver of hope. he starts walking away, steve stops him, pointing out the fact that eddie is still a wanted man. eddie agrees with steve, it was a bad idea, but that doesn’t stop him from also agreeing with dustin, the group now heading to wherever this gate was. you walk for hours until dustin’s compass starts acting funny once again, right at lover’s lake. 

you make your way unto the boat that was conveniently there. eddie has a hand out to you “y/l/n,” you take it, needing the support from the rocky boat. steve notices. dustin tries getting on but you all don’t let him. no one let’s any of the kids go. eddie saying that the boat can only hold four people, tops. 

steve pushes the boat out into the lake, quickly hopping in, leaving a whining dustin behind, “sorry,” he whispers. 

at the middle of the lake, the compass starts to turn in different directions. steve immediately pulls off his socks, getting undressed. you panic, “steve what are you doing?,” nancy finds the words you couldn’t utter. 

“somebody’s gotta go down and check this out, unless one of you four can top being a hawkins high swim co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years, then it’s gotta be me. no complaints, all right?” you furrow your eyebrows at him, grabbing his arm, trying to stop him from removing another article of clothing, “no. no. there has to be another way,” your voice, stern. simultaneously, eddie replies, “hey, i'm not complaining. i do not want to go down there,” you glare at him, he puts both hands up, a sign of surrender. 

steve continues, getting up and removing his shirt. you can’t help but stare. he always looks good. really not the right time. robin glances between you and nancy, she does not get the hype. eddie hands steve his makeshift waterproof flashlight, snapping you back to reality. nancy tells him to be careful. if nancy can’t even stop him, how could you? 

“i swear to god steve, if you die down there, i will find a way to bring you back to life and kill you myself,” earning a chuckle from him. “i’ll come back, i promise,” he tells you, sincerity in his eyes. and then he dove. you keep your eyes on him until it was too dark to see anything. every second that passes feels like an eternity, your heartbeat racing, legs bouncing up and down. the four of you wait, the faint sound of everywhere is the only thing heard, eddie makes a comment, something about everywhere being a good choice of song. you barely care. 

steve’s taking way too long. you make your way towards the edge of the boat, trying to spot him. 

after a couple more seconds, which felt more like hours, he finally resurfaces, eddie screaming an “oh christ!,” from the sudden, loud movement. serves him right. 

“i found it,” steve starts swimming towards the boat, the three glad to hear his sentence. you honestly don’t give a fuck, just glad that he was finally right in front of you. releasing a breath of relief, your hand immediately wrapping around his arm, making sure he was really there. 

“it’s pretty wild, it's more a snack sized gate than the mama gate,” steve explains, trying to catch his breath, “but still, it’s pretty damn big.” and then he was gone, the loss of touch causing you to stand up. steve makes his way back up in a second, making eye contact with you before he is dragged under once again. you don’t give yourself time to think, immediately diving in after him, following the bubbles that were created from his screams. the yells for steve’s name above becoming fainter the deeper you go. you’ve never swam as fast in your life, legs kicking as hard as you could to the point where it burns. 

everything’s red. this world, laced with branches you only saw in your visions. 

steve’s cries swing you into action, grabbing the first paddle you spot, you run towards his direction. bats. they’re circling him. he’s on the ground. you keep running and running, adrenaline coursing through your veins. letting out a cry, you smack one of the creatures away from him. in a second, you notice that the trio have joined you. you’re all trying to get the bats away from him, one has a particularly strong hold on his neck and you can feel your eyes start to water as you crush it over and over again. eddie and nancy watches out for the incoming ones, you and robin still struggling to get the stupid creature off of steve. it wasn’t until a bat made its way unto you that he finally gained strength, biting onto the one around his neck, smashing it to the ground, blood spilling from his lips. 

all of you now in action, it feels like a horror movie, the only thing missing was music. shit. 

you’re frozen, just now realizing what you did. nancy was the first to march up to steve, asking him if he was okay, “well, they took about a pound of flesh, but other than that, yeah, never better.” the two share a moment, you look away. robin starts talking about rabies and then eddie makes a statement that has you wishing the bats murdered him, “y/l/n, your music stopped playing.” steve is in front of you in a second, turning the player over and over, inspecting it,“no no no, no. fuck!,” he curses, “why did you do that!? are you fucking kidding me!?” he yells at you. he’s angry. you wince, looking at the floor. he’s immediately sorry, eyes softening.

before he could say anything, a group of bats from above startles everyone. “into the woods, c’mon,” nancy thinks quickly, everyone now running, seeking safety, under skull rock. the five of you hid in silence, terrified. as soon as the bats flew by, everyone got back up, steve stumbling back, nancy aiding him in a second. “i’m fine,” slips past his lips as she tries her best to nurse him, ripping off a piece of cloth from the cardigan she was wearing. all you can do is watch, afraid of the fate that now lies ahead of you and the boy you’re in love with. he looks up at you while nancy continues taking care of him. you avoid his gaze. 

robin, still on her rabies agenda, tries to distract steve from the pain, “so the good news is i’m pretty sure wooziness is not a symptom of rabies but uhm, if you start having hallucinations or muscle spasms, or-or you start feeling aggressive, like you wanna punch me, let me know,” her voice breaking, you can tell she’s trying her best to fight back the tears. 

“robin,” steve shuts her up, grunting, “i kinda wanna punch you,” robin forces her laugh. 

eddie makes his way next to you, whispering “sorry.” you look up at him, offering him the best smile you could muster up in this situation, “it’s whatever,” you nod. steve watches. nancy finally wraps the cloth around him, trying to reduce the loss of blood, his eyes going from your figure to hers in an instant. he grunts and you look back at the two, eddie leaving your side. 

this world is merely a reflection of the real one. robin suggests going down to the police station for armor and weapons. as always, nancy has a better idea, “i have guns, in my bedroom,” she admits, “a russian makarov and a revolver.”

“yeah, you almost shot me with that one,” steve makes a snarky remark, nancy quick to follow, “you almost deserved it.”

you remember that. you were there. eddie notices your expression fall even more than it already was, still feeling sorry for earlier, he throws steve his vest, breaking the moment between the two, “for your modesty, dude.” a loud rumbling from beneath you causes everyone to fall, eddie saves you from the harsh ground, robin falling right next to you. steve stumbles back into the wall, nancy in his arms. everyone checks to see if everyone’s still in one piece.

your hand goes straight to your head, it feels like someone just shot you in the head, “woah woah woah, y/l/n, you okay?” eddie asks frantically. tears fall down your cheeks, the pain being too much. with no music to distract your thoughts, you can hear vecna from every corner of your mind. steve crouches down right in front of you, terrified. no one knows what’s happening. 

a sound of a branch snapping to your right alerts you, “we have to get out of here. he’s here.” you whimpered, a sense of urgency in your voice. 

“so guns seem like a pretty good idea to me,” eddie piped, robin quickly agreeing. 

“ok, ok,” steve nods, “let’s go to nancy’s, that’s where mike’s player is too,” his eyes are back on you and the state you’re in because of him, “we get that first.”

finally putting on eddie’s vest, he helps you up, leading the way. you stay by robin’s side, putting up a brave front. you didn’t want steve to worry even more. 

steve goes up to eddie, “eddie, hey man, uh… listen i just uh wanted to say thanks, for rushing to y/n’s side and saving my ass back there,” the two have a heartfelt moment, “shit, you saved your own ass back there, i mean, that was a real ozzy move you pulled back there,” steve doesn't know who ozzy osbourne is, causing the two to have a quick argument. but then eddie goes back to complimenting him, bringing up how dustin worships the ground he walks on, steve gains a bit of confidence with the newfound information.

eddie confesses that he was jealous of him, describes him as the perfect embodiment of man, and still is super jealous as hell, “which is why i would never have jumped in that lake to save your ass, not under any, uh…normal circumstances,” an honest confession. 

another branch snaps, causing the pair to quickly look ahead, at you, relief washing over their faces seeing you still walking between robin and nancy, eyes focused on the ground beneath you. 

“the only reason i came in here was because those ladies came in straight after you. now i was too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind, but y/l/n, right there, she didn’t waste a second. not one second. she just dove right in. now,” eddie has the boy’s full attention, “i don't know what’s happening between you two, but if i were you, i would figure it out. cause that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.” 

the ground shakes yet again, the pounding in your head stronger, you can feel time slipping away. robin’s hand is quick on your shoulder, keeping you stable as you all try to keep up with nancy’s pace. even in the dark, steve notices every wince you make and after eddie’s incredibly powerful speech, he feels even more awful at his violent reaction. he didn’t even bother to thank you, or ask if you were okay. 

finally making it to what seems like the wheelers’ house, nancy, robin and eddie head straight upstairs and into nancy’s room. steve grabs your hand before you could join, you don’t say a word, you’re not too sure what to say right now. he pulls you into mike’s room, searching for his player, and hoping that the boy had everywhere somewhere in his box filled of tapes. he spots both, feeling lucky for the first time, making a mental note to thank mike as soon as he gets out of here.

in one rapid motion, the headphones are back on you, the music instantly bringing a sense of comfort. you watch him, taking in every feature of his pretty face. “i’m sorry,” he whispers, slowly taking a step towards you. “you shouldn’t have followed me in but you did and i-i shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” you shake your head. you don’t even care about that anymore, you’re just glad you’re here, with him, in what could be the last moments of your life. 

“i don’t think you understand,” you find your voice, a quiet hush. finally you look into his eyes, you feel like you haven’t seen them in a while, “steve harrington, i’ll follow you everywhere,” you promised. he feels his heart explode. taking your hands into his. 

“i-i have to tell you something before i run out of time,” you say, rushed, his eyebrows furrow at your statement, he doesn’t like it, his grip on your hand getting tighter. 

“say it to me when we get out of here, yeah?” 

you dont. 

“i’m in love with you,” you blurt out. “i’ve been in love with you ever since that halloween night, and y-you don’t have to say it back i know you’re still in love with nancy and that-that’s really okay i just need you to hear it because i might not be able to say it,” he processes your words, feeling various of emotions all at once. happy because the girl he loves, loves him back, confused at the mention of nancy’s name, scared that your last statement will come alive. 

he chooses to focus on what he knows.

“i’m not in love with nancy,” he said, you stare at him. “i-i love her, yes, but only as a friend, i-i dont love her like i-,” you can’t believe what you’re hearing. 

“i-” steve starts to say, you stop him. 

“say it to me when we get out of here,” you beg. he sees the fear in your eyes and he can tell that you’re afraid that all of this is just a trick of your mind. so instead of words, he proves it to you with the way he's always known. gently grabbing your face and bringing in into his own. two lips finally moving as one, your hands finding their way to his chest. nothing about this kiss tasted sweet, feelings of desperation traveled through your hearts. desperate for more time. he pulls away for a second, foreheads softly colliding, his fingers rubbing tiny circles on your cheeks as he pulls you in for another kiss, just wanting to taste you over and over again. 

then you pull away, eyes wide, shocked, you look up at him.

“did you hear that?”

“what?”

“i think it’s dustin,” you point out. he listens. he hears him. “great, even through the other side of the world he finds a way to annoy me,” you laugh, gently slapping his chest. he looks at you, in awe. he hasn’t heard your laugh in a while. he loves the sound of it. he loves you. 

in any normal moment, you would’ve loved to just stay in his arms, laughing for hours and hours. you think back to all the times you guys did just that, not appreciating it enough when you had it. but none of this was normal so you pull away from him and back into this nightmare. you follow dustin’s voice all the way down to living room, yelling his name. steve quickly joins you. the rest of the group questioned yours and steve's sanity until they heard him as well. soon after, you guys figure out how to communicate – the lights. everyone happy at the small achievement. 

a plan unfolds – find another gate. 

“there’s a gate at every murder site!” dustin yells at the walls. nancy ask’s eddie how far his trailer was. you all grab the bikes placed on the wheelers’ front porch, quickly making your way there, wanting to get out as soon as possible. 

finally making it into eddies trailer, an even smaller gate, right at the exact spot of chrissy’s death, greets you. it starts moving, almost like it was breathing. you all stare wondering what the hell is going on. steve checks it out first, making sure you were all behind him. 

cheers erupt, when dustin’s face, though upside down, finally comes into view, “BADA BADA BOOM!”

the kids create an improvised rope, consisting of several blankets and bedsheets all tied together. they place a mattress on the landing spot, making sure you all cross through the portal safe, “those stains are uhhh… i don’t know what those stains are,” eddie lied, earning a look of disgust from you, robin, and nancy. 

one by one, the group makes it safely through. 

robin, eddie then nancy. his eyes are on you. ready to help you up the rope, you step back, “you go first,” you ordered. he really stands his ground this time, “no way, it’s either you go first or we’re both staying here.”

“promise you’re right behind me?” you plead, he places a quick kiss on your lips, “i promise.” 

finally.

you’re back on the other side. steve follows right after you. you look at him, a small smile on your face. he mirrors your expression. max comes running towards you, engulfing you into a hug.

a happy celebration.

no one noticed it. 

nothing could’ve prepared anyone from the vine that slowly, quietly creeped its way through the portal, wrapping tightly around your ankle, and just like steve in lover’s lake, pulling you straight down, back in the other side.

the portal immediately closes.

steve yells out a series, “FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” as he stares at the spot that you were once standing, grabbing dustin’s paddle and feverishly stabbing through the ground. blocked by stronger branches, the wooden oar can no longer cut through it.

“steve-” nancy calls out to him. 

“SHIT!,” steve lets out a broken yell, “this is not happening, no, no no,-”

“steve, calm down!” robin catches his attention. 

“do not tell me to calm down!” he shrilled, absolutely devastated, “not when she’s stuck down there! and i'm here! and i-i didn’t even tell her i love her!” he’s absolutely wrecked, tears freely flowing, words slipping from his lips, not even caring about the fact he just confessed his love to you to the rest of them.

“we will get her back, steve!” lucas yells, trying to stop his own tears from flowing.

“how?” he looks at the rest of the group, breathing heavily. he’s exhausted.

“we find another portal.”  

three

an: bada bing bada boom

[abibliophobiaa]

Perfect Places - tasm!Peter Parker x f!reader (Chapter One)

a/n: this is the first part of a multi-chaptered fic i’ve been writing since i saw nwh and fell back into my tasm!peter obsession. hope you enjoy this one as much as i’ve enjoyed writing it. i plan on it being around 10 chapters long, and covering about the span of a year in the life of our dear peter and the reader. comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3

summary: your family is worried about you being abysmally single. so, it’s honestly a good thing your best friend/roommate happens to not mind fake dating you for your exes wedding.

t/w: mentions of alcohol/alcoholism. eugene has struggled with it in the comics, so it is mentioned here as well for my version of him.

posted on ao3.

NEXT CHAPTER

You’re losing your mind. The time for questioning has been long gone. Your students hate you and you’re wondering if maybe you’d gone into the wrong field, because you don’t know what else you can do to make them like, or even respect, you. 

And then you get the phone call from hell and lift your head to the heavens and plead with anyone out there, because why else would all of this be happening to you? 

Your students decided it was a great idea to start a food war. In the middle of class. Not even in the cafeteria—because apparently these days that’s not the thing to do. One student threw a Pringle at another, and then carrots were flying, and you found yourself ducking beneath your desk until you finally got the nerve to shout at them that they all had detention. 

Now, it might have been a little dramatic. And you don’t even know if you can technically give them all detention, but it certainly got them to shut up long enough for the final bell of the day to signal and for them to be off for the buses. Let that be the bus driver’s problem. You could care less by that point. 

You’re plucking food from your hair when your mother’s name pops up on your phone, requesting a FaceTime. You know it’s because she’s likely with Grandma and they both want to see you in all your beautiful, mid-afternoon glory. Meanwhile, you look like you’ve survived a war—because in many ways you have—and desperately need a shower. And a hug. You might have to beg Peter for one of the selfish ones, where he clings to you while your arms dangle at your side. 

Sighing, you grip the phone in hand and slide the toggle to the right. As predicted, your mother and grandma smile at you on the other end of the line. You miss the both of them, though they only live an hour or so away on Long Island, and immediately feel your lips slide into a grin. 

“Hi, baby! You look so beautiful,” your mother coos, and you know for certain she’s lying. 

“Let me get a look at her!” Grandma shouts on the other end, shoving her way into the frame. “Oh, darling, I miss you so much. How was your day?”

You wince. “Well. You see. My children thought starting a war was a great idea for the day. I’ll be scrubbing my hair for weeks.”

“That bad?” Mom asks, frowning. 

I shrug. “I mean, they’re great. I love them all, but I also wish sometimes I could go with five minutes of peace before they try to actually kill one another.”

“You poor thing.”

You exhale and say, “The looks on your face are not innocent. What’s going on?”

“There’s a reason why we are calling, sweetheart; and I think you know what it is,” your mother begins, the phone shaking as she settles down on the living room couch in your parent’s home. 

But you do know. It’s in the envelope currently sitting on your refrigerator door. An invitation to Eugene Thompson’s wedding to Rachelle Gordon. The perfect familial affair. Everyone is so proud that Flash is finally settling down and marrying the love of his life. And you’re happy for him. Truly. But the idea of him moving on, while you’re still ridiculously single at twenty-six does sometimes hit you at the worst times. This being one of them, as your mother and grandma look at you with what you imagine to be pity in their gazes. 

“How are you feeling about all of it?” Your mother asks. 

“I’m fine.” 

And you are. Truly. Again. Flash and you dated on and off for two years while he struggled with various stages of alcoholism you hated his father for. Granted, no one knew about it until he’d already gotten himself clean and went off to boot camp. When he came back, he’d broken things off for the last time. A sad speech which ended with a teary, ‘It’s not me, it’s you.’ So, might you have been a bit bitter? Sure. But people fall in and out of love all the time; clearly, he stopped loving you. Such is life, right?

“I just know you recently broke up with that other guy, what was his name again?”

“You mean Bryan? He was Peter’s coworker, and we hardly dated. It was more like a few weeks of coffee and dinner dates where we barely talked to one another.” Because you had nothing in common, other than the fact you shared Peter.

There was also no spark.

“Plus, that ended months ago,” you add, sitting down in your chair. 

“Oh dearie, we just want you to be happy,” Grandma chimes in, practically shoving mom out of the way so she can see herself. 

“I am happy, Gram.”

Happiness wasn’t found in a man, woman…or any romantic relationship, really. Or in a family. Or children. There were days you weren’t even sure you wanted them. Last week you’d been in Target, the best, most favorite place in the world, and found yourself wanting to put your head in a wall when a child started screaming. Your uterus suddenly exhaled a sigh of, ‘We are in no hurry here, girl. You do you.’

Still, you know how much your mother desires that for you. For her children to have children. The same goes for Gram. Fortunately, they’ve been off your back because Jeremy and Betty—your brother and his wife—announced they were pregnant earlier this year. She’s around seven months now, which means excitement is at an all-time high. It’s easier to overlook the perpetually single daughter of the family. You like it this way. 

She smiles. “I just want to see my favorite granddaughter”—You’re her only granddaughter—“find herself a good man who she can give me great-grandbabies with one day. I don’t know how much longer I have. Also, honey, studies show fertility begins to dwindle after twenty-five, and so…”

Gram trails off in her speech, and if there were a record playing in the background, that screeching pause sound you hear in all the sitcoms is what you would have heard. Suddenly you are sweating. You know Gram is likely laying it on thick because she thinks she now has no filter on what she says in her advanced age, but the words make guilt swirl in your stomach. 

And then you panic. You don’t realize what you’re saying until you blurt out, “I actually have a boyfriend, though! So no need to worry; there is hope.”

Now both women are fighting for the screen. “Boyfriend?!” 

Your mother practically wails, as if choir angels are singing in the background. A chorus of ‘Hallelujahs’ pours from their lips at the miracle which took place.

It’s as if you’ve announced the sky is falling. You wish the sky would fall—preferably on you. A perfectly aimed asteroid right at your head to take you out, because what the hell is wrong with you?

You swallow and nod frantically. Are you crazy? Sure. But it’s too late to back out now. You rub your hand along the back of your neck and glance down at your desk—at the picture of your family, with Peter and May at your side. Peter’s arms are around your waist and he’s grinning so stupid big his eyes had gone all crinkly at the edges. Your head is tossed back in a laugh. 

Forgive me for what I’m about to do, you think.

“Err—yup. I’m dating Peter. Isn’t that so fun?” You giggle out. It sounds a little unhinged on your ears. You wipe your sweaty palm on your thigh.

“Peter? As in May’s nephew?” Mom asks. 

“That’s the one.”

It’s then you hear Jeremy. And you want to expire on the spot. Can a hole open in the ground? Can anyone hear you out there? Help. 

“Is that my baby sis?” He calls in the background, leaning over the top of the couch to fit into the FaceTime call. 

“Did you just say you are dating Parker?” He asks, a sly grin on his lips. At your nod, he chuckles. “Mom, I told you those two would eventually date. So happy for you! Just tell him I will kick his ass for any funny business.”

“Will do,” you say, feeling your eyes burn with unshed tears you blink away rapidly to hide your ever-growing mortification at what you’ve set into motion. 

Peter is going to kill you. You can see it now. You’ll need to do damage control. Soften him up before you drop the bomb on him that the two of you are dating. If he doesn’t run out of your apartment screaming and fuming at you. Thankfully, there’s a donut shop he loves right on the way home; and if there’s one thing you know to be true, it’s that Peter Parker cannot say no to a chocolate donut if his life depended on it. 

“Honey, we have to go. We are going to go shopping for the baby shower. But we will catch up on all of this. I want to know how it happened and all of that. We just knew you two would get together eventually,” your mother says. “Don’t you worry about the wedding weekend. I’ll take care of your arrangements and everything. We cannot wait to see you!”

Gram is next, beaming happily at you. Guilt swirls in your stomach because you falsely put that smile there. “You tell that boy he better save a dance for me. I need to make sure he’s up to snuff for my favorite grandbaby.”

“What about me, Gram!?” Your brother jests, waving to you in the camera. “Love you, sis.”

“Love you guys. See you soon.”

And you force yourself to grin until the call ends and you can only see your face reflected on the screen. Okay—okay, we can fix this, you think to yourself, racing around the room to gather your things. 

Me: I’ll be home a little later than usual. Making a pit stop. 

Peter: Can you grab toothpaste on the way?

Me: Did you squeeze too hard again?

Peter: I hate you. 

—x—

“Peter, how much do you love me?” You call throughout the hall of your shared apartment, a box of donuts resting on your upturned palm. 

“Depends on what you’re about to ask me,” he shouts back, the sound of his keyboard hitting your ears as you drop your keys onto the kitchen island. The toothpaste follows in a close second.  

“Why do you always think I have an ulterior motive?” You ask. 

“Because you always have an ulterior motive.”

You pout. “Rude.”

You place the box of donuts down next and watch as your doe-eyed best friend comes toppling over his makeshift desk set up and tries to open the box with his grabby hands. You swat him before he can open the box, slamming the lid down with your other hand.  You’re surprised at the swiftness you move; usually, it’s Peter with his super reflexes who does stuff like that.

You’re sure there’s a wild look in your eyes because he looks at your face like he’s slightly worried for your sanity. And he should be. You’re pretty sure your eye is twitching. Your hands are shaking too. He can probably hear your heartbeat racing away in your chest. 

“Before you have a donut—your favorites might I add because I’m your favorite and I listen to everything you tell me—I need you to hear my proposition.”

“For what?” He glances at you nervously, brows pinched high on his forehead. 

“Well…you know Flash is getting married, right?”

“Uh-huh. We both got invitations in the mail but go on you weirdo.”

“My family FaceTimed me on my lunch today. They’re all going, obviously. His family was good friends with my family, blah blah blah. He’s best friends with my brother and all of that—"

“I know, weirdo. I’ve known you since college.”

“Okay, well grandma got on the phone and did the thing grandmas do where they question why you don’t have a boyfriend. When you plan on settling down. If you’re going to give them grandchildren before they die—”

“…She really said that?”

“More or less. Said I need to hurry up because she’s not getting any younger and my ovaries are about to be as dry as the Sahara Desert or something of that nature.” You pause because Peter’s looking at you like whatever sanity you had left when you walked in slipped away into the wind. “And my mom was then all, ‘honey I know it’s probably also hard seeing your ex get married and I kind of, uh—lost it.”

“How so?” 

“You might want to sit down for this part.” You laugh uneasily, pushing him toward one of the island stools. 

Clearing your throat, and swiping your hands on your jeans, you continue, “I blurted out that I’m actually not single.”

Peter grips your hand and mutters, “But you are, sweetheart.”

“You say poh-tay-toe, I say poh-tah-toe!” You gape, shaking his palm in yours. 

“That’s not what you think you’re trying to say. But I get where you’re going with it.” He chuckles and adds, “You also say potato like every other person who has lived their whole life in New York, silly.”

“Okay, that’s why you graduated with a fancy science degree, and I did not.” You mentally slap yourself because that has absolutely nothing to do with science. Is that your eye twitching again? 

You start pacing around the kitchen then. Your palms are sweaty. Knees start to wobble like a baby deer. Your arms become heavy. No vomit is yet on the floor, but isn’t this what Eminem talked about in one of his songs? Is this what he meant? 

Peter calls your name and pulls you back into reality. You whirl around to face him and watch as those eyes meet yours, a frown settling over his lips. Normally you would find it sweet he cares so much about you, but what you’ve set into motion without him knowing has you spiraling. 

“So I told them I was dating someone.”

“Yes, that would be implied when you lied and told them you weren’t single—”

“Hey, no pointing the finger, Peter Parker. Just last week you put your Spidey suit in my wash. All of my whites are now stained, thank you very much!” 

You cross the room and wrap your arms around his neck, tossing yourself into his lap. Maybe if you bat your eyelashes, it’ll lessen the blow. He loves you, right? The unamused shove of his hand against your forehead makes you groan. 

“I may or may not have told them I’mdatingyou.”

Peter laughs. And then laughs again, before pausing and looking you dead in the eyes. “I know I’m almost twenty-seven, and maybe my spider senses are dulling a bit, but it sounds like you just said you told them you’re dating me.”

You tap your finger against his nose and cringe. “That’s because I…did.”

He tosses his head back dramatically, squeezing your hip before righting you on your feet. He’s now the one pacing in the kitchen, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s mad; he’s so, so mad and you’re sure you’re going to have to find a new roommate. And maybe a new best friend. 

“What they say about this new…development?” he asks, not once pausing in that frantic pacing. 

He’s going to wear a hole in the floor, and you don’t want to have to explain it to your grouchy landlord. The guy already hates you for accidentally knocking a clock off the wall and kind of maybe ripping a good chunk of the wallpaper in the process. Down to the sheetrock. Which you tried to cover the next week, only for Peter to come home after a patrol and point out that you apparently can’t just paint over that kind of disaster. Who knew? 

You giggle, waving your hand in the air in a way you hope comes off as haphazard. “They were excited.” 

“Okay. Excited is good, we can work with excited,” he says, pausing. “The look on your face tells me there’s more you’re not saying.”

You twirl your keys around on the countertop, the sound grating in the awkward silence. “They’re over the moon, Pete. I feel so bad because my mom immediately started planning on booking our suite for the weekend, and grandma did that thing she does that's super cute where she fans herself and clutches her chest like she’s heard the best news of her life.”

“It is really cute when she does that,” he concedes, before shaking his head as if reminding himself of how crazy this situation is and how mad at you he is. “Your mom is booking us a suite for the weekend? What did your brother say?”

“My brother said, and I’m paraphrasing, ‘I’m going to kick his ass for hooking up with my baby sister, but I’m so happy for your two.’”

“This is crazy. Are you insane?” He blurts the final word out, gripping onto your shoulders and shaking you slightly. 

“I prefer your adorable friendly neighborhood best friend.” 

He snorts and you pout. “Okay—look I know it’s bad. But I panicked! It’s just one weekend. A nice Friday to Sunday; only technically two nights in a hotel.”

“Did you forget the part where I’m Spider-Man and I might have to disappear at any given point to do my job?”

“At which point, and granted I’ve only loosely thought about this in my short walk home, I thought I might be able to just tell them we want to spend some alone adult time together. Can’t keep our hands off each other, am I right?” You sigh at how pathetic it sounds even on your ears.

“I’m waiting for you to say April Fools, and yet I think you’re serious and it’s actually kind of terrifying me right now and—no, no, no, sweetheart don’t cry.”

He’s wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling your face against his abs, which have become more defined thanks to years of crime-fighting, and you immediately wrap your arms around him back, trying to keep yourself from completely losing it. You sniffle miserably against him and whimper as he reaches into the box and hands you a fruity pebble sprinkled donut as a peace offering. A favorite of yours. 

“It’s so dumb when I think about it now. Like I don’t care what people think of me, but it just came out. I word vomit sometimes, Pete.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” He rubs a hand along your spine, your sniffles rocking against his solid form. 

“It’s just…grandma.”

“I know,” he whispers, tapping on the bottom of your chin with a finger and tilting your head up to look at him. “I’ll do it if you want me to.”

Your lip wobbles a bit, and he stops it with his thumb, grinning down at you. “You’d really do it? I’ll pay the whole rent for this month. And I’ll do your laundry, too.”

He shoves your shoulder playfully. “These donuts are a good start of your future groveling to come.” He opens the box and shoves a whole chocolate one in his mouth. Once he’s somehow swallowed that one down, he presses a kiss to your forehead and then whispers oh so softly, “I’ll be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

And your heart stutters in your chest. You’re pretty sure he can hear that too. Because there’s a horrible twist in all of this that you might have left out. Which he will never know because it would change the whole foundation of your friendship. 

It goes like this: You’re in love with Peter Parker.

Have been for a few years now. 

What could go wrong?

NEXT CHAPTER

[amazing-spider-man-book-club]

The Amazing Spider-Man #5

Published: October 1963

Containing: "Marked for Destruction by Doctor Doom!"

Synopsis: Doctor Doom hides away in NYC in an effort to use Spider-Man as a means to strike the Fantastic Four, and Flash Thompson is captured in Peter's place forcing the latter to take action.

Read alongside us here:

@frankendykes-monster : I had to look up if spiders actually communicated through radio waves or whatever given that Doctor Doom is the second villain in the series to now contact Spider-Man through frequencies attuned to spiders. I did find out that spiders can communicate through every available means you'd assume from animals aside from radio waves, probably a predictable end but whatever I needed to see if it was a real thing.

The Amazing Spider-Man has now been bumped up to monthly publication status, with #4 having been released in September of 1963. It's a quick way of realizing that the character was almost immediately becoming the crown jewel in Marvel's line-up, and frankly what a great issue to celebrate this milestone. You can tell we've settled into a groove given that all of zero new characters are introduced here, but we do get Flash Thompson and Liz Allen *and* Betty Brant as fully named cast members with their respective relationships to Peter also having been settled in; though I think it might be some time before Liz and Betty realize that they're romantic rivals. I love the subtle dichotomy between Peter and Spider-Man; Peter figures it would be cool to let Doctor Doom just kill Flash but knows he can't stand aside, more and more subtle hints at the character's eventual emotional breakthrough near the end of this run.

Something funny to me is that Jameson admits so casually that he's in the news business for money which is the reason for nonstop Spider-Man coverage. Funny because even in-story, Spider-Man is the little guy, surely The Fantastic Four or The Hulk are more newsworthy items. A reasonable critique on my part given they didn't *have* to make Spider-Man have three crossovers with that team so far.

This isn't a fan blog for the Kirby/Lee Fantastic Four run so not much to cover with Doctor Doom beyond him being the definitive comic book supervillain. Everything about him is marvelous and on display here. It's interesting that this issue takes place immediately after Fantastic Four #17 (Ditko was a noted comics reader, Kirby wasn't, hence when the latter handles Spider-Man in other titles, Peter just shows up disregarding anything actually happening in this series), but Lee doesn't leave a little editorial note pointing readers to that issue. Doom being able to whip up multiple new lairs in NYC is beyond hilarious to me, he's easily the most stereotypical character Peter has had to face so far but that's probably more than anything a showcase of how low the relative stakes have been so far. Remember when The Vulture was just hiding out in a barn planning petty thefts? Doom has a right to gloat about his prowess on multiple levels given that that's what we've seen so far.

One thing I'm not keen on is that we've fully entered an era where Spider-Man's webbing can do things just because an action scene calls for it, like here where Peter can make web balls that break open that reveal thicker webbing inside or creating huge shields to defend against ice attacks. There's a general rule of thumb on Spider-Man does with webs and this goes far beyond that, a rare instance of this reminding us that this is still the earliest portrayal of the character and not everything stuck (no pun intended).

This is our first issue where Spider-Man's suit is finally colored blue instead of using a soft purple as the secondary color. Lee's narration has started to enter that self-aware era that people constantly associate with him, and while it by no means detracts from the issue I can't say I'm a huge fan of the fourth wall breaking by highlighting that there may be better comics out there or apologizing for taking so long to get to the final fight, for example, but I digress.

@duel1971 : This story pits Peter against Doctor Doom, arch-nemesis of the Fantastic Four. The FF themselves don’t appear for more than a cameo, allowing the story to focus on the conflict between Doom and Spider-Man. In typical bombastic fashion, the narration boasts that the fight between Spidey and Doom will be the “gol-dangest, ding-bustedest, rip-snortin’est super-characters fight you’ve ever seen!” I don’t know about all that, but the fight is in fact really cool, featuring some innovative panel layouts by Ditko and creative use of Peter’s webbing.

I love Doctor Doom but the moments in this issue that really stuck with me all involved ASM regulars. Liz Allan, who Peter struck out with previously, speculates that Spider-Man is a dreamboat under his mask. J Jonah Jameson admits explicitly that his feud with Spider-Man is a tactic to sell more newspapers and magazines, revealing how hollow he is beneath his bluster. And, most notably, Flash Thompson dresses up as Spider-Man to try and prank Peter and ends up getting kidnapped by Doctor Doom.

Doppelganger Spider-Men are a recurring theme by now, and putting Flash in the role is interesting to me given how he would develop in later years under different writers. In terms of this story, however, we just get to laugh at the bully’s expense for once, and Peter has a devilish moment where he considers just leaving Flash to die. He does, in fact, forget to actually save Flash at the end after defeating Doom, leading to a very funny scene where Ben Grimm threatens to beat him up after the Fantastic Four find him cowering in the wrecked lab.

[forget-you-morelike-fuck-you]

Spider Queen- P.P.

Okay so this is post snap and Tony's alive because it's my universe and that's what I want, lmao! Also I don't write minors so both Peter and the reader are 18 in this, high school seniors.

Y/N doesn't realize she's one of the most popular people in school until the Prom Court nominees come out.

Masterlist

TW- Mention of food, mention of death if you squint (mom died in the battle of new york), just a little cursing, mostly fluff!

Pairing- Holland!Peter Parker x Reader

Word Count- 3,873

(Gif not mine, credit to owner!)

You didn’t really know you were popular until you were put on the ballot for prom queen. Pretty late in the year, yeah, but appreciated, nonetheless. No one was happier for you than Peter, your loving boyfriend. You had been together since Sophomore year of high school, having been chemistry partners and study buddies for months before he finally wised up and asked you out on a date.

You sprint through the halls to find him and share your news, although you know he’s had to have heard it. Even so, you want to celebrate with him, and as you run, you hear words of congratulations from every which way. Finally, you see him at his locker, and you stop next to him, breathless, as you hold out the sheet with the prom court nominees. “Y/N! Is that the ballot?!” He asks, closing his locker. You squeal excitedly, holding it out to him with a wide smile on his face.

“Yes! I can’t believe I might be prom queen!” He picks you up easily and spins you in the air as he kisses you sweetly.

“You’re gonna be prom queen, baby! I don’t have a doubt about it. Everyone loves you!” Peter says, and your face quirks. It’s not like you’re Liz Allen.

“What are you talking about? I’m not popular!” Peter’s brow furrows. Surely you know, right?

“Y/N, everyone loves you!” He repeats. “Remember when you came to school with that cool pin and then all of a sudden, everyone started wearing them? Or when you played that song in the talent show last year on your guitar, and suddenly that was everyone’s favorite song?! You’re seriously, like, the most popular person in school!” You’re still not getting it, so Peter grabs Flash by the arm as he passes, pulling him in to the conversation.

“Flash, do you think Y/N’s popular?” Flash gives an incredulous look, and you’re almost saying I told you so, before he responds.

“Well, duh. She’s the coolest person in this shithole, dude. You should know that; she’s your girlfriend or whatever.” Your eyes widen. The only person more cool than himself is like, Iron Man, and here he is, saying that you’re supposedly in the A crowd?

“See! I told you!” Pete says. You blink, face still contorted in confusion.

“But… Why? I’m nothing special. You’re… well, you know…” You were let in on the Spiderman secret just before the blip, when you found one of his web shooters in his backpack. After persistent questioning and knowing he was lying about the answers he was giving you, he finally caved.

“Yeah, but no one knows that. You, however, you’re just, like, the nicest person here. You’ve never met a stranger!” You think, and you guess that’s right. You have a lot of friends, but why would that make you popular?

“I still don’t really see how that would make me popular, but I guess if Flash Thompson says it, it must be true!” You both laugh at that, walking toward your next class together.

With Prom looming just a month away, May offers to take you dress shopping, since your mom was lost in the Battle of New York all those years ago. Your dad, AKA, your best friend, simply nods, knowing this is out of his scope of expertise as a humble engineer, so he just hands you his credit card and tells you to have fun when May comes to pick you up. You go to lunch, then you scour all of the dress shops, trying on dress after dress, each getting a little closer to what you want, but it isn’t until you’re on your last store of the day, the sun beginning to set, that you find it. May calls you over with a gasp. “Look at this one, Y/N! You need to try this on!” She holds up the heavy gown, layers and layers of tulle making up the ballgown skirt. It has long sheer sleeves with applique lace that comes down the bodice to a rhinestone belt, and it looks like it would match perfectly with the red on Peter’s spider suit. You giggle as you take it from May’s hands, gasping at its beauty, both of you giving an excited squeal before you go to try it on.

The weeks drag after that. You’re so excited for Peter to see your dress. You imagine the look on his face as you come down your stairs, like the one he gave you on your first date, when you both knew what would happen between you was nothing short of true love. You bide your time at home trying different hairstyles and makeup looks, sometimes wearing them when you go see Peter once he gets home from Avenger’s Tower, just to see his reaction. He ogles at you like you’re his sun, moon, and stars, of course, and even after being with him for almost 2 years, you still feel butterflies swarm in your abdomen.

You won’t even tell him the color of the dress, knowing May will make sure everything is taken care of so you match without giving too much away. “Come on, Y/N! Just a hint?! I’m dying over here!” He cries during the discussion at dinner with your dad. You simply shake your head.

“I told you, I want it to be a surprise! May knows what it looks like, so once she gets your tie and our flowers ordered, you’ll know, but I’m not budging!” You shake your head lightly, the smirk on your lips making him groan in dissatisfaction. Your dad chuckles as he picks at his dinner, his smile showing just how happy he is that you have Peter to keep your days bright.

“Fine! Then I won’t tell you how we’re getting there! And let me tell you, it’s gonna be great!” Peter huffs, eyeing you intently as he baits you into caving. You simply nod, your smile cool. You assume his mentor has something to do with it. From the way Peter talks about Tony, it sounds like he’s found a new father figure in him.

“Okay. I’m fine with waiting. It’s just another week anyway!”

“Uuugh,” Peter groans, finally giving up as you and your dad both giggle at his immaturity.

The next day at school, there are posters of you and, get this, Flash lining the halls, both of you with photoshopped crowns, and in big golden letters, VOTE FLASH AND Y/N, YOUR HIGH SCHOOL ROYALTY. You simply roll your eyes. It looks like he ripped the picture of you from your art club yearbook picture from last year. As you pass people in the halls, they all wish you well, promising to vote for you, but… maybe not Flash. You giggle as you thank them, telling them that you had nothing to do with the posters, but you really appreciate their kindness. Peter catches up to you at lunch, and he smacks his tray down next to yours, looking dejected.

“Apparently people think you’re going to prom with Flash since you guys are all over those posters he made,” He grumbles, taking a bite of his tuna sandwich. You scoff.

“Yeah, that tracks. I’m honestly a little surprised he hasn’t actually asked me. I guess he knows I’d shoot him down. I’ve got the real king here, anyway.” You nudge Peter’s shoulder with yours before leaning to kiss his cheek. He rolls his eyes, but still, there’s a smile forming as he chews and swallows his lunch. “I’ll talk to him and ask him to take down the posters if it bothers you. If I’m as popular as you say, he might just listen.” Peter makes a face and shakes his head.

“No, you don’t need to do that. Not that you need the posters to win or anything, but people have been talking all day about voting for you. I really want you to win. I don’t know. I guess so I can live the high school dream through you? If that makes sense?” You laugh, tucking your arm under his as you lay your head against his shoulder.

“Okay, honey, if you’re sure. But just know, no matter who gets crowned as prom king or queen, I’m still gonna be dancing with you all night.” Peter smiles at the thought, his heart leaping in his chest.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Peter hums, his lips pressing gently to your hairline.

“Yeah, I think so, too.”

Your heart pounds as you put the finishing touches on your outfit. Peter is supposed to be here in 10 minutes, and you’re already cursing yourself on deciding to do the full shebang and wear these killer heels, despite better judgement. You slide the earring backing onto the glittering silver drop earrings and pull back to examine yourself one last time. Your hair is hair-sprayed into a solid block of cement, your face feels like it weighs ten pounds heavier with all the makeup, and, of course, the heels are already starting to pinch your toes, but as you look in the mirror after checking your teeth for lipstick one last time, you’ve never felt more beautiful.

You let out a deep breath and pack your purse with essentials to bide your time. Phone, wallet for post-prom snacks, lipstick, perfume, and your charger, all packed and ready to go. Your dad is letting you stay with Peter after so you also grab your bag with a change of clothes and everything you need to return your face and hair back to normal after the night’s over. You check again, then once more over everything to make sure you’re not forgetting anything, and then you hear the doorbell ring, making your heart leap in your chest.

You get your things and set the duffel of clothes at the top of the stairs. You’ll ask your dad to grab it for you before you go. It might sound silly, but you don’t want it to ruin the big reveal. You listen as your dad greets Peter at the door, and they talk briefly about how exciting it all is, and then you hear your dad call for you up the stairs.

“Y/N! Peter’s here!” Your breath hitches in your throat.

“Okay! I’m coming!” You respond. You smooth your dress out and begin walking carefully down the stairs, bracing yourself on the railing so you don’t trip over your shoes. As you round the corner on the landing, you see Peter and your dad talking at the door and then both of them look to you. Your eyes focus immediately on Peter, who looks the best you’ve ever seen him. He’s polished in a perfectly tailored suit, shoes shiny, and his hair is styled to perfection, no doubt with the help of May. He doesn’t smile at you, not at first. He just takes you in, his mouth slightly agape at the sight of you. You feel a heat rush to your cheeks, your heart beating even faster. Then a smirk breaks out on his lips, and you realize that he must hear your heart with his enhanced senses. You wonder what you look like in his eyes. Those beautiful brown eyes…

Peter extends a hand as you reach the bottom of the stairs and you take it gratefully, your other hand going to lift your skirt as you take the last step to the floor. “Hi,” You giggle. Peter’s smile widens, his grin stretching ear to ear.

“Hi,” He echoes, breathless. You stare at each other a moment as he loses himself in you, but you’re pulled back to earth as your dad coughs, a calculated move to get you to stop ogling at each other. You both chuckle lightly, finally pulling your eyes away.

“Are we gonna get some pictures before you leave? I’m sure May wants some just as much as I do.” The three of you laugh.

“Probably more. It’s all she’s been talking about for weeks. Wants to put one up right on the mantlepiece!” Peter admits. You all laugh again, and then your dad goes to get his camera while Peter addresses the clear plastic box in his hand. He opens it to reveal your corsage, a beautiful bracelet of red roses and baby’s breath. Classic. He also has a matching boutonniere, which you pick up, along with the dangerously large pin you’re supposed to use to fix it to his lapel. You do your best, carefully weaving the point in and out of the fabric and bundle of flowers.

“You look so beautiful. Like a princess.” Peter murmurs, his lips barely grazing the top of your ear as you try to focus on not stabbing you or him with the deadly weapon you’re expected to use to adhere the flowers. Your breath hitches, your brain going fuzzy at the feeling of his warm breath on your ear.

“You clean up pretty good too, Spiderman.” You whisper, trying to keep calm as a hurricane of butterflies jolt through your whole system.

“Is that why we’re wearing red tonight?” He asks as you pull back, examining your handiwork. You smile bashfully.

“I thought paying homage to my favorite superhero would be a fun idea, yeah.” Peter blushes, his cheeks and ears going red. He leans to kiss you, and you feel your lashes flutter against each other as you meet in a tender kiss. You’re just laying your palm to his chest when you hear your dad coming back, so you break. You hope your lipstick hasn’t smudged as he comes back down the hall, waving the camera in his hand triumphantly.

“Sorry I took so long, had to find spare batteries!”

You go outside to take pictures in the golden glow of sunset, and you gasp as you see the stretch limo on the street. You laugh excitedly, clapping your hands together. “Told you it would be great!” Peter exclaims. You go to hug him, both of you laughing as you hear the shutter of your dad’s camera click. You take more photos in front of the limo, then a few by the rose bush in front of your house, then it’s time to go. Your dad brings you your bag, and Mr. Hogan, who you’ve met a few times when he was dating May, graciously opens the door for you and Peter helps you in, shoving handfuls of red tulle behind you.

“Thanks, Happy!” You shout as he closes the door behind you. You and Peter settle in and you take in the lavish car. Snacks and soda line the bar where you’re sure alcohol used to sit, and you giggle, wondering if that was Tony’s idea, or his wife, Pepper’s.

“So what did you have to do to get Tony to let you borrow this?” You muse, picking up a snickers bar and unwrapping it. Peter slides a hand behind his neck.

“Nothing really, just told him I was going to prom with the prom queen. He said if that’s the case, we need to get there in style.”

“Uh-huh. How many times did you beg him?” You snark, a laugh spilling from your lips as you see through the cheap excuse.

“Like five days in a row!” Peter admits. “I had to promise to take off Spiderman-ing for all of Finals Week!”

“Well, I can’t blame him for that,” You shrug, silently thanking Tony for looking out for him.

When you get to the prom venue, there are already people gathered outside, waiting to get in. You see people turning around as you pull up, making noises of excitement at the sight of the car. You feel giddy as Happy comes to the door to open it for you, and Peter gets out first, extending his hand to you. You take it as you get your footing on the pavement, and you pull yourself out with Pete’s help. You hear oohs from the crowd watching and you nibble at your lip, feeling like some kind of movie star at a red-carpet event. Happy nods to you with a small smile as you thank him for driving you, then he promises to be back at 10 to pick you up and bring you home.

You make your way in, and you feel all eyes on you, which is odd. It’s not that you don’t enjoy being the center of attention, but now that you know you have been for a while, it’s a new experience to notice. It’s what helps you feel a bit more confident as you link your arm with Peter’s, both of you walking to find your friends across the crowded dance floor.

You find Ned, Betty, and MJ at a table in the corner near the buffet, and you give hugs and greetings to them as you sit. “Y/N! You look amazing! I love that dress!” Betty gushes, and you curtsy jokingly.

“Thank you! You look great too! I love that color on you!” She’s donning a sleek, icy blue gown that compliments her eyes. Ned is matching, signaling that the on and off again relationship is currently on, and you turn to MJ, who looks bored in her simple black dress and usual worn converse. It looks like she did put on some makeup, though, and it makes her skin look radiant.

“You look beautiful, MJ. I didn’t think you’d actually come to something like this,” You say, sitting down. She gives a shrug and folds her arms.

“I figured I have nothing better to do and I heard they hired a good caterer for this thing.” You nod, accepting the explanation.

“Yeah, I did too. I’ve barely eaten all day, I’m starving!”

“Then let’s go get some food and then we can dance!” Peter interjects, holding out a hand to you. You take it and give a wave to MJ, who gives a half-smile as you go.

As the night goes on, you watch people going to fill out their ballots at the voting booths, and you can’t help but feel nervous. Is it selfish to hope with everything you have that you’ll win? You hope not. Peter does everything he can to keep your attention, hearing your heart race as the clock ticks closer and closer to 9:30, when they’ll be announcing prom court.

You and your friends dance together, though all of you, sans Peter, grow breathless after a few songs. You even manage to get MJ on the dance floor when the Cupid Shuffle comes on, but she retreats back to your table before the music ever trails off completely, content being a watcher and protector of your and Betty’s bags. At 9:28, you and Peter make your way to the small stage at the front of the crowd, waiting for the MC to come and announce prom king and queen. You feel yourself fidgeting with the tulle on your dress, your other hand squeezing Peter’s as the MC makes his way up the steps with an envelope in his hands.

“No matter what happens, you’re still my queen, Y/N,” Peter whispers. You smile at him and lean to give him a kiss, thankful for his unwavering support.

“Ladies and gentlemen! I am here with the results to our prom court vote!” Everyone cheers, and you cross your fingers as you chew the inside of your mouth. “You voted, and now here he is, your prom king…” There’s a drumroll over the speakers from the DJ as the MC builds the suspense.

“Brad Davis!” You clap nervously as Brad makes his way to the stage. He graciously accepts the plastic crown and sash from the MC. Brad’s an okay guy, you guess. He’s always been nice when you have projects together in history class. Brad gives a whoop and the crowd cheers, then silence falls again as the second name is about to be announced.

“And for your queen, you know her, you love her, it’s…” Another drumroll, “Y/N Y/L/N!” You let go of the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding, a squeal leaving you as you turn to give Peter a kiss. He pulls you in as the crowd screams around you and dips you low, one hand on your face, the other supporting your back. Time slows to a standstill for a moment, and it’s just you and Peter, his lips moving with yours deep and slow.

As he pulls you back to stand again, he shouts over the din, “I knew it would be you! I’m so proud of you!” You hold his hand as he helps you to the stage, taking the hand of the MC as you reach the steps, holding your dress with one hand as you walk up. You feel tears pricking your eyes as the room chants your name, and you wave to them all gratefully, spotting the beaming faces of your friends, even MJ, and your love, Peter as you’re crowned and sashed.

“And now, the king and queen will share a dance together!” The MC says, and you and Brad laugh as he takes your hand, helping you down the steps as the crowd divides to give you space. It’s awkward, but still fun as Brad twirls you dramatically, almost to the point that you trip over your feet. But every chance you get, you’re looking at Peter, wishing it was him.

You and Brad bow to each other as the song ends, both of you giggling like school children as you congratulate each other, then you both go back to your own dates. Peter swoops in immediately as you turn to find him, one hand on your waist, the other holding yours. “There’s my girl!” He exclaims, his smile breathtaking under the colored lights.

“There’s my guy!” You respond, the next song is another slow one, the lilting tune floating above you from the big speakers. “I can’t believe I won.” You shake your head in disbelief, but you’re here, the delicate tiara on your head, PROM QUEEN sash draped over your shoulder.

“Well I never doubted it for a second. I seriously would’ve thought this was rigged if you didn’t win.” Peter chuckles. You lay your forehead against his, breathing a sigh of relief.

“I love you so much, you know that?” You murmur. The hand on your waist moves up to your cheek, his calloused thumb brushing gently over your skin.

“I think so,” Peter smiles coyly, “But I think I love you more.” You shake your head at that.

“Not possible,” You refute. Pete gives a shrug.

“Well how about we get out of here and I’ll just show you then?” His lips are so close to yours, and the thought makes you shiver in anticipation.

“I don’t think I’d mind that.” You smile as your lips meet, both of your hands going to the hair at the nape of his neck, fingers gently carding through the short curls. Peter responds, his hands firmly on your hips, like it’s him holding you to the earth and not gravity. It’s perfect. Just you, just Peter, floating through a sea of lights and music.