laurie

Summer to you starts in August.

Sure, you'd run your last academic marathon at the end of June, with July spent shackle-free back home where you'd meet up with friends who aren't the same anymore after uni. You'd swelter in the sun, cause havoc in beer gardens and star gaze when the sun finally set after 10. It's the break you've been craving, the aches and pains of academia eased away by the leisure by the warm weather. But it wasn't summer.

Summer to you is the first week of August.

When your university friends and yourself would all pool into your deserted uni town, catching up and reminiscing the night before setting out on a seven hour long drive. First year is when all seven of you go, split between two cars, driving down south to the surfer's paradise of sandy beaches and a blue ocean stretching far beyond the eye. Boardmasters is the first festival you attend, your parents too rigid in fear to let you go beforehand because to them, the only purpose festivals served was for to do drugs.

You can't fault them really, because your first Boardmasters sees you drop your first pill, shapes and colours crossing your line of sight at a rave in the woods. It's an out-of-body experience, pupils blown wide and body brimming with unconditional love as your body moves slow and fluid, as if stuck in honey. Despite the lack of showers and kicked-up sand, it's one of your favourite weekends, long talked after you leave the festival on a cliff. Surrounded by your dearest girls, sticking together in the packed pit of festival goers, pumping your fists to dance and grime. Nothing quite bonds a group of people together like tripping balls, peeing in bushes when the portable toilets are too sickening to enter. 

When you're not nodding along to the music, you're swinging through the air of the select carnivals ride, trying not to throw up your breakfast of pains au chocolat and vodka orange juice. When you're not getting a tan on the white beach, you're jumbled together with avid surfers watching the festival's competition unfold, monstrous waves so close you're convinced they'll swallow you whole. And when you leave on Monday morning, sunburnt with sand in between your toes and a hoarse throat, you can't wait to do it again the next year.

So, you do. It becomes a tradition of sorts, the first time you see your university friends since leaving your belongings in your new residence of the upcoming year. The night before is just as good as the festival, all huddled in your new lounge showing off your new festival clothes, sharing jewellery and scourging around for a sleeping bag because Choerry always forgets hers. It's one of the few times your soul feels alive, every inch of it clinging onto the present moment to now, four years later from your first, standing amidst a sea of people, on the grassy grounds you've come to know and love. 

Early evening paints the sky in an indigo blue, bright full moon creeping into the sky. This year's different, a year removed from university, but you're trying to make it feel like every other time before. One of Friday night's headliners has got the crowd going, the easy-going atmosphere breathing space in between groups of people huddled around each other. It's the kind of let your hair down sensation your body's ached for, head tipped back as you try and sink into the feelings.

In a crowd full of moving bodies, the only sounds occupying the vast grasslands blare from the stage speakers, shaking with every heavy bass thump. It’s a good way to let go, losing yourself in the motions of the crowd high on house among other substances, inhibitions abandoned to the closed fall of your eyes, serenity your being. A necessary ritual, through the slump of everyday life boggled down by work responsibilities and other non-juggable things. A trip down South with friends sparkled in glitter, rustic clothes blowing in the wind as your arms circle each other, happiness so evident on your faces as your heads nod and worries dissipate.

It’s a time you wouldn’t trade for anything for, something precious in your life that comes with no regrets. 

In the swell of the crowd, warm stage lights project outwards, outlining the dancing silhouette of festival-goers. In the few occasions your eyes flutter open, you see your friends exchange words into the ears of guys next to your group, amusement curving your own lips. They’re good-looking, you note, grin widening as the taller one of the group hoists Choerry onto his shoulders, laughter pouring between your two groups.

If not for the tap on your shoulder, you would’ve missed him completely as his soft voice barely meets your ears. “Did you wanna have a go?”

You turn and the world sweeps into a montage, music slowed to reverb as you take his features in one by one. The kind brown circle of his eyes, the sheepish simper in his full lips, his wet fringe curling towards the open space of his forehead. He’s all lean muscles, shoulders like boulders in the grey cybersigilism vest he wears - sturdy enough to support you. However, it’s not his deep outline of his muscles or grunge fashion that grabs your attention, it’s the silver star grill stretched between his canine tooth and accompanying front tooth.

Out your peripheral, his head tilts, snapping you out your gaze. Like this, you can’t fight your fast blinks, not quite believing the sudden attraction rushing over you.

“Why not?” is your non-committal answer.

At your sides, his friends trade sneaky smirks and amused eyebrow raises, whispering in teasing tones. You thank the gods above for the invention of safety shorts, uneasy hands running over any possible creases in your outfit.

“You got a name?”

The divine mix of alcohol and ketamine always did something for your confidence, a good amount of inflation to your ego as your lips curve in a sneaky smirk.

Surprise reflects in the puzzlement of his face, a good-natured chuckle coming from him. “Excuse me?”

“I usually know someone’s name before I do something like this.”

“In case of emergencies?” he asks, grin lopsided.

“More so common decency,” you chuckle, biting back your grin as he lowers himself to the ground, eyes shining up at you. “But that’s a factor too.”

Anton is the singular thing you remember through your exchange, goosebumps peppering your skin despite its feverish temperature the moment his hands meet it. You blame the race of your pulse on the unpredictability of the situation, surprised yelp blending into the heavy beats blaring off the tree-sized speakers as you’re hoisted upwards, a whole new world on your horizon. Everything looks indescribably small from your view, the sea of dancing bodies like a wave on the shore, your worries smaller too. Anton stands his ground, sturdy despite his two-step, hands hooked around your calves for good measure. Butterflies infiltrate the gooey puddle of your stomach, the flight of their wings giving an impression of euphoria, a lighter feeling within you as you allow yourself to sink into this — the flash of warm lights, Anton’s warm hands and the promise of a good weekend, a great weekend even if you let it.

The cusp of greatness starts when that first beat drops, so distinctly vivid and recognisable in your ears as the lights switch to shades of blue and white. Frantic eyes scan for your friends, the same look in all your eyes as your hands come together with Yunjin, lyrics belted out from the depths of your chest. If not for the vibration against you, you would’ve missed Anton singing along, his friends with shades on, draping over each other with pointed fingers in the air. Not a second later, one of Anton’s friends beckons the rest of your friends over, a shared circle of giddy smiles and clumsy steps. It’s sickening sweet, how a single song brings everyone together, setting fire to your soul yelling I wish you that you were mine at the top of your lungs.

Your balance against Anton never wavers, in the face of your necessary minimized dance moves and the pump of his fist, studded bracelet catching against the flickering light show. The melody boils to a simmer, unoccupied by words and only sounds, the perfect opportunity for your eyes to meet as Anton peers up at you, bliss across your faces in a way that makes you the kind of giddy you haven't felt in a while.

He keeps you on his shoulders for two more songs, the last of your friends let down to your feet as the rest of the DJ set goes on. Introductions are made amid the madness, too many names for your fuzzy brain to keep up with but their good company sticks. Jokes, dance battles and a united sing-a-along make you fast friends, enough that when the set ends, Anton's friends look to your group for what's next.

“The rave in the woods,” Anton’s snapback-wearing, doe eyed friend starts. Your memory traces back in time, Sohee remembered as his name. “Were you guys gonna go too?”

Your friend look amongst each other, giggling like you share a secret. "Of course." 

The rave in the woods is a beloved event that without a fail, your friends attend every night. Once the last big acts call it a day, smaller events scatter around for late-night partyers, the rave in the woods one of them. The woodland where you dance into the early hours of the morning is expansive, offering a variety of DJs supplying grime, house and techno to get the crowd moving. 

As first year attenders, Yunjin states how vital the experience is, leading with Sungchan who lends an enthusiastic ear while the rest of you trail behind. Groups of your friends, groups of his, a mixture. Like you and Anton, naturally walking alongside each other as the night chill grazes your skin, a welcome break from the blistering sun. 

"The glitter stars look good on you," Anton breaks the silence, eyeing the mass glitter stars outlining your eye, in the ironic shape of one too. "It's really creative."

"Thank you. It took a stupid amount of time to do," your cowboy boot kicks at a stray rock, the main field's noise being left behind in search of another. 

"Pretty worth it if you ask me."

The woodland is densely populated, all tall scrawny pale trees reaching far beyond the strain of your neck. Low enough for the eye to behold, shiny disco balls hang off the high branches, the poor festival staff having to scale the trees for aesthetics. It does its job though, string lights of the rainbow cascading with flashes that make the space feel like it's been clipped right out of a movie. A smoke machine from various DJ decks blows around the area, cloudy figures moving like apparitions to the elevated eye. 

After you and your new group of friends make your way through the Christmas market-like entrance, dark blue swirly patterns projected onto the red sand floor, your girls split off for the portable toilets, a meeting point of a Tiki bar agreed upon. Since it's still early days, the portable toilets don't swim with waste, three to four of people squeezing into the tight space. Baggies get pulled out of socks and bum bag pockets, pills and grained ketamine their inside contents. 

"I can't believe I'm letting you use my car keys," Sullyoon moans, breaking her blue pill apart. "If the car doesn't start, you're pushing us back to mine."

"It's your fault for saying to leave my keys at yours," you argue, sniffing the substance with a groan. Kazuha does a shitty job at covering it up, coughing after the fact. "Yeah, thanks." 

"You didn't warn me beforehand!" she yelps, squeezing into one of the corners. "You and Jinsol dropping one?"

"Her name is Molly!" Jinsol giggles, handed over half of the pill from Sullyoon. "I've genuinely never felt anything better. I obviously wouldn't push you to do it, but it's great."

"Don't worry, my pink gin gets me high enough for the both of us," Kazuha replies, eyebrow raised to you. "Ready to go?"

One last sniff and a lip-balm swatch earns your go ahead sign, looks of amusement tossed between your girls.

"Must be getting ready for Ant—"

You push her out the door, a stumble of a short ledge her price. Back again outside, the smoke-filled air greets you, a lightheadedness devouring your brain as your group walks back to the agreed meeting spot. There, where Heejin and Choerry purchase drinks for themselves and Kazuha, Yunjin floats over to you. A helpless snicker slips out, your hands cupping her face as your thumb pad swipes a few visible crushed grains on the tip of her nose, her heavy blush only strengthened by her natural one.

Because you can't help but tease, you yank her down her camo cap, her shriek meeting your ears. "What you think? This batch's pretty good, yeah?"

"It's strong, I've only had to do a fingernail after almost k-holing to Wish You Were Mine," she explains, readjusting her cap. "Good song, though."

"The best song, I-" a tap on the shoulder makes your words evaporate, head turning with a sliver of Yunjin's smiling face catching your eyes. "Anton," 

A mellowness lazily tugs at the corners of his lips, his head slightly tilted. "Sorry to keep you waiting. How about I get you an apology drink?"

"Yeah, you took longer than the girls," Yunjin interjects.

Heejin comes up beside her, sipping on her over-priced cocktail. "They were probably sword-fighting in there."

Anton immediately flushes, hands out in alarm. "We were not—"

His platinum blonde haired friend drops onto his shoulders, an arm slung around him with the kind of grin that only speaks of trouble. "He's just shy because he always wins. I mean, how could he not with—"

Anton damn nears folds his neck in half, a sharp look of mortification and warning in his eyes. His friend, who you remember now as Shotaro puffs out a shaky chuckle, patting Anton's chest to slow tempo. "I lied, actually. We were making out. Gotta kiss the homies goodnight, you know?"

Out of nowhere, a head of pink hair — Wonbin — jumps in, pressing a cheek kiss to Shotaro who flinches into himself, buried further when Anton does the same on the other cheek. In a feigned nonchalance, he ignores the unfolding scene of boyish fights and directs you over to the queue, hand curled on your elbow. The mere touch is enough to shoot electricity up your back, correcting the hunched posture. 

"I'm good without one," is your gentle decline, every sense of yours heightened. You need to go, expel all your fizzing energy now. "Let's go dance."

Your head turns to the rest of the group, ears flooded with excited shrieks and bumping music. Your foot taps along, body swaying soon after. "You coming?"

"Course," Heejin answers, head turning to the slithering sight beside her. 

Sohee slides closer, doing footwork similar to a moonwalk with the wave of his body, ending on the tips of his creased sneakers. Must do this often. "Gotta show everyone who's king."

He shows off a snaggletooth smile, so pure with the flex of his biceps, only for his face to fall when his cap is snatched. His deep pink hair is a frizzy mess underneath, sight unseen three seconds afterwards as he chases after the thief, a manically laughing Sungchan.

Your attention shifts back to Anton, who's in the middle of the world's great facepalm, echoed by the collective chaos of your groups mashed together. The dopamine-inducing sight reflects happiness back on your face, body still moving to the oontz oontz music and ultimately getting carried towards it.

Footsteps follow you close by, a stamped of others following close behind. Ignoring the clumpy sounds of grime, your body shimmies over to the packed crowd of dancing bodies, shoulders sunburnt with glow in the dark face paint on. Deep house moves their bodies, heads hitting every bass beat and you follow along, music travelling through you. 

The mob roars to life as the familiar lyrics of The Less I Know The Better come through, speakers blasting the remix of drum snares and heavy bassline. Expressions pull to show their satisfaction, pumping their fists harder with a mean two-step. Head in the clouds, energy bursts through you, your image a mere afterthought as your body moves on its own accord, appreciative yells coming from your group. You soak it in with a grin, the flutter of your eyes capturing the amazement mapped out on Anton's light-drenched face.

Songs go on, the DJ becoming a fan favourite as she remixes crowd pleasers with expertise, bumping along with her excited friends who hop and yell to every beat. Your mind can only hang onto fragments of everything, every blink a snapshot, but it's a movie each time, body bouncing around while you dance with friends. At one point, your fingers thread into Anton's, coaxing him with the words, "Shake your body up and down, let the rhythm take control." It's far better than the multiple take it off lyrics that come and go, but in hindsight, perhaps it could've gone without saying. After all, you thought you'd made it pretty apparent that you liked him.

Eventually, after one too many bathroom trips and songs, your body overheats to an uncomfortable degree, yelling to excuse yourself into Choerry's ear. Eclipsed in hues of orange and pink, she yells she'll go with you. Assuring her you'll be ok, you hear her yell out to text if anything goes amiss as you're shouldering through the crowd, coming out a bit bruised but happy enough to not mind.

Familiarity presents no hesitation in your movements as you wonder off into the woods for a breather, eyes floating between the Island-themed bars run out of caravans and dehydrated festival goers who plot down into any beach chairs available. Perhaps venturing alone into the woods should make you the kind of uneasy that has your eyes bouncing to every possible threat. However, with how large and busy the festival is, even places where the lights are reduced to mere specks, there's always someone loitering around: drunk girls proclaiming their forever-lasting friendship, a couple kissing against a tree, friends huddled with a suspicious chorus of sniffs. It's a bit of a mess; a mess you wouldn't have any other way. 

It's only when you've put some distance between the rave and yourself, you hear the call of your name.

"Wait!"

Your ears can't quite believe themselves, a slow turn unveiling your far-fetched guess.

"You didn't have to follow me out," breathlessness hints at your words, a rise and fall of your chest with each step you take. "I would've been fine."

"I needed the breather too," Anton reasons, only his thumbs visible as his hands slip into his front pockets. "Plus, I know better than leaving someone alone the woods."

The woods, as you amble further into, is hauntingly beautiful, unkept and largely left to its natural beauty. The trees are more dense here, branches folding over each other, trunks thicker, less vandalised. The party is distant, the ketamine having worn off and for the first time in repeated thirty minute intervals, you feel yourself relax, back inclined to lean against the tree behind you.

"I don't think the Big Bad Wolf is much of a raver," you laugh, crossed hands against the bark you press into. "He's busy terrorising others in red." 

"That's a shame, he'd really blow the roof off the place," Anton says in front of you, a stark silence settling in the aftermath of his words. "Sorry, that was so bad. Don't even— "

"I was wondering when you'd slip up," you can't help but snicker. "No one can be that smooth." 

His eyebrow raises curiously. 

“You’re making me nervous again,” his words carry over, only loud enough for the trees and you to hear. 

"I didn't know you were..." you trail, eyes looking left and right, unsure. “Why?”

A humourless laugh escapes him, a hand brushed over his lips to wipe the smile away. “You’re really gonna make me say it?”

You choose silence, pinching your lips together before something clever obliterates whatever following words Anton mulls over. A knit in his eyebrows with a gaze cast to the ground your only tell. It’s informative enough, but you don’t want to get your hopes up.

“Well,” his hand inches closer across the bark, a gulp travelling down your dry throat. “Well, let's just say it's not every day I get to hoist the prettiest girl on my shoulders." 

Floored is how best you can describe how you feel, stapled to the tree your rigid body doesn't dare moving against. The only thing that moves in concern with you is the heavy pump of your heart.

"There's 50,000 people here…" 

"My statement still stands," he answers, not budging. The silence between you is stifling. "Do with that information what you will. I just figured I'd let you know."

Dead leaves crunch under his mud-scuffed hiking boots, body turned as if to walk away. 

"Wait!" you call out, eyes wide like you've seen a ghost. Your chest labours, hand outstretched to Anton whose figure halos with the dulled lights of the faraway rave. "You can't just say that and leave."

His head tilts, arms crossed. Muscles flexing. "I wanted to give you space."

He knows what he's doing. He must, because why else would that easy smile be on his face for if not knowing your next words?

A moment's hesitation almost doesn't allow them to fall. Then, your mind remembers being at the top of the world on his shoulders, how sturdy and safe you'd felt atop them. His warm hands you reached out for on the dance floor, how his eyes could never leave yours even when yours closed. How the current between you is so different to anything you've experienced before, humming just beneath the surface. 

"What if I didn't want any?" are your whispered words, head ducked like there's shame in letting things be known. "You…you, come here and fix this."

Anton comes back immediately, stopping not even an inch in front of you. You catch pine notes and the sea breeze from his skin, radiating a warmth the night chill propels your body towards. 

"Fix what?" he whispers back, head tilted like he'll lean in. You really want him to. "Say the word,"

"Please," your hand grasps onto the front of his vest, desperate more than aggressive. "Just once."

He hums, considering your words. It kills a little part inside of you. 

"You're cute," he says against your lips, a gentle brush. "I'll bite."

Something entirely new happens to you when your lips meet, a gasp muffled against his mouth as you fall apart. Against the rough bark of the tree, your body melts like molten lava, helped only by the loose fumble of your hands against his cheeks, firm hands on your hips. His lips are soft, pursuing you with a gentleness you chase after, arms circling him as your need to be close grows. He groans into your mouth, a soft gasp your response as he presses you further into the tree. When you're through, your body will adorn the marks of his passion, a dull sensation to your back while your world never remains the same again.

"Fuck," his breath fans over your lips, not baring to part from you. "You sound so sweet. Wonder where else you're sweet."

You whimper into him, body running hot as you feel the slide of his smile on your lips. He's holding you like you're something precious, cheeks cupped with the utmost of delicacy and the want just pours out of you, raving your body that desires nothing more to be closer to him. For him to touch you everywhere, to kiss you everywhere too.

"That's it, take my hand where you want it."

Your breath gets caught somewhere in your throat, a blaze set to your skin as your hand tremors over his — knowing where it should go, but not having the gall to follow through. Attuned to your hesitancy, his hand inches by the millimetre down your torso, shiver left in his wake. Eager fingers slot between his for a second, a grasp to take control as you move down until you leave his palm against the safety shorts under your dress.

"You're warm through your shorts. Is that all for me?" He has the audacity to say, smiling to the whine you do. "It's okay, go ahead. You need it, don't you?"

Of course you do. So bad your mind's thrown of rationality in pursuit of the pleasure he may give you. He slots a flexed thigh between your leg, offering a sturdy surface as your hips give out experimental rolls. With so many layers pinched together, the friction generated makes you shiver with a shaky moan, lips trembling away from his. He chases after you, teasing nibbles on your bottom lip done to ruin you, so starved for him your hips rut with every last inch of your need. 

A wolf whistle pierces through the night, commending cheers too boyish for your liking following the aftermath. Brought back to reality, your body can only freeze in terror as a group of shirtless guys in reflective sunglasses clap their hands for Anton, teasing raises of their eyebrows from two-tree rows away.

"Oh my god," you part, an immediate side-step behind the very same tree you'd been caught doing…that on. 

When the obnoxious men are out of ear shot, dead leaves crunch as Anton shuffles closer, his tongue grazing where your lips last were. If you weren't ablaze in embarrassment, you'd probably climb him like a tree. 

"I got a bit carried away there," he huffs, finger pulling at the neckline of his vest. There's minimal visibility here, but enough to catch the heat radiating off him and its accompanied flush. He even has a stray star from your cheek. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just— " your hand swap at the side of your face not plastered with stars, the knot in your stomach still ongoing. "Maybe we should head somewhere more private?"

The suggestion appears to surprise him, eyes flaring with it as his head jerks back a bit. A moment blankets the two of you, his hand raised to run over his throat, consideration heavy in the air. 

"You want to?" he asks instead. 

Your answer is close to immediate. 

"Yeah." 

He pauses, allowing for a beat where you change your mind, examine your options, consolidate an out.

It never comes.

"Okay. Did you want to tell your friends you're going? Or did you want my driver's license?" he's already sifting through his back pocket for the sleek leather, flipping it open. "That way, they have my details."

A safety precaution. 

One you hadn't really considered. It wasn't often you went off with someone at a festival, the extent being making out with a random during Loyle Carner's set. Rookie mistake, not because your friends clowned you for the rest of the night, but because you'd ruined your chances with Carner who could apparently see you in the middle of the crowd. 

However, as you stand before Anton, whose lips are plump with your kisses and moles on his face good enough to bite, you take your chances. Forgoing travelling back to the rave where your friends are and shooting a quick text, the last of your battery used to send his drivers license where he looks offensively good in. Once sent, your brain catches up to the rabbiting in your chest, clustered rave music jumbled in your ears as you look at him with hopeful eyes, the same reflected back at you. 

"Should we get going?"

The walk to your tent is relatively quiet, the festival making up in non-syllable form. Fingers intertwined, you wonder if he can feel it — the thump of your pulse under his palm, the clamminess of yours. He's the one whose said his sweet confession and yet here you are, shaking like a leaf. When the idea of his attractiveness crossed your mind, no amount of foresight could've brought you here. It's always in passing, acknowledging handsome guys to your friends with nothing done of the matter. Rejection is the overarching reason, but it didn't apply now. Not in the slightest, his desire to be with you overriding the decency of having you behind closed doors. 

Before you get the chance to gulp, your boots thump to a halt, seven-man tent in plain view. It's the first night but the campsite is already chaos — pitched tents, more camp chairs than people while more trash and crushed beer cans litter the patchy greens. Ain't nothing like home.

Through the mess of your bumbag, you somehow manage to find the keys to the tent, shaky hands jiggling the lock. Once both through, you lock back up before standing to your feet, showcasing the common room/Sullyoon's & Jinsol's room. Shades of pastel pink and mint green cascade from the walls of the tent, stray pillows to match. Makeup brushes astray with a trunk stashed with the alcohol you snuck in, the permitted amount perched on the top. 

"I think this room is the size of our entire tent," he marvels, hunched over with wondering eyes. If he's nervous, you can't tell. "Sohee, Taro and I will probably end up sharing a bed — not that Sohee minds."

Then, your eyes catch, knowing smirks volleyed. It undoes the bundled nerves in your stomach, if only by a few centimetres. 

"Sounds better than my set-up," your voice trails, eyes finding his. "Did you wanna see…?"

His eyes flare, a sinking pit plummeting down your belly. "Yes, please."

Your section of the tent isn't glamorous by any means, yourself and Yunjin having packed so much that you had to settle for sleeping bags, waterproof shells of a bed stationed next to each other. Atop yours, your legs cross, Anton's long limbs stretched instead, but he's close. Close enough for a hint of cinnamon and sea salt to hit your nose, the warm spice of his cologne elevating the summer heat inside the suddenly small tent. 

Idle conversation is made: sets you're hoping to catch over the weekend, activities you're waiting to do. There's a lot of crossover, like how you'd both like to go to the mini carnival on the last day, listen to Kings of Leon's set while soaring through the pink sunset sky. 

"I couldn't imagine being anywhere better." he says, fingers fiddling with the hem of your dress. 

He doesn't say the obvious out loud —  with you, but you hear it all the same. React the same too, breaths deepening as your hand inches up to hover his, chocolate brown eyes reflecting up to yours. 

"Me being here doesn't have any implications," he states, a gentleness to his features. There's minimal light in the tent, save for the soft peach orange omitted from Yunjin battery-powered light. He's stunning in it, as he is in others. "We do whatever you're comfortable with." 

"I know, I just— " you huff, searching for the words, the composure. Since when did he have this power over you? "I never know how to…"

Initiate, take the leap of faith.

You'd hit the ground one too many times doing so.

"It's okay," your hand falls from over his, warm presence to your cheek with his thumb's caress. It's comforting, enough to lean into. "I'm here."

I'll guide you. 

The whisper, though never uttered, ripples a chill down your spine, foreheads coming together. Moments pass, close in the intimacy of observation, some shadows cast but your eyes and lips readily in view. This near, you see the mole just beside his nose, like a far dropped tear. His eyelashes do a gradual flutter, pink dusted over the height of his cheekbones. Then you hear it. 

Faint, but unmistakable — the thud of his pulse. Your hand searches for it, fingertips ghosting over thin skin, the pump of his heartbeat fast, contesting with yours. 

You can't help but chuckle, him following along in the bit of sheepishness you wish you could sink your teeth into. So, you do, head angled up to connect your lips again. Somehow, it's better than the first, the butterflies swarming all around you in a delicate dance, body lurching for his. His hand sneaks to the back of your head, pressing you against him, noses folded over each other. You can't get enough, dull burn so good you're moaning into his mouth while his tongue glides over your pried lips. You part further, because you want more too, like everything him pressing you into the tree promised. 

Moving on its own accord, your body folds towards him, a gentle push back as his hands desert your body to support himself, top half shadowing yours. Naturally, your body falls backwards, lowered slowly with your lumpy pillow acting a cushion. Anton kisses you throughout, plump lips the pillow you wished your head would lay upon, drunk off the taste of grape Soju and peppermint. His body brackets yours, arms holding himself up as the rest of him shifts between your legs. You've never hated the shorts beneath your dress more, clothes sticking to blotches of skin. 

Like he said, Anton's here. Hands doing a slow ascent up the flesh of your thighs, he gives you every opportunity to say no — it never comes. Consent echoes in the strained whines hanging in the back of your throat, rough fingertips grazing the waistband of your shorts, smiling at the quiver of skin. 

No time's waisted as he pulls them off you, tossed away somewhere as your legs cross over his back. It's a crutch you fully lean into, need growing by the tenfold as your slick-lined gusset brushes over the bulge in his jeans, back straightening to the feel. He feels…like a lot, desperation unleashing the moans blending into the quiet lock of your lips. A dampened grunt, deep from his chest, sounds when your hips show the extent of your desperation, core grinding hopelessly against him. 

"Shit," he mutters into you. "Hang on, lemme…"

It's the first time your lips truly part since settling atop the sleeping bag, swishing against his movement while his tongue licks away stringed-saliva connecting you two. Further away, he lowers himself, your body hoisting itself onto propped elbows as you beg the question:

"What are you—"

Perfectly slotted between your legs, he peers up at you, pupils fully blown, hands hanging off the hem of your underwear. "Oh,"

Your hand reaches over to his, sheepishness creasing your expression. "You don't have to."

His hand eclipses yours, a firm sincerity in his umber eyes. "I want to."

The only response you manage is a gulp, heat blossoming across your cheeks. All you can do is relax back against your arms, willing yourself not to sound as desperate as you feel while he trails slow kisses down your navel. It's almost trance-like, watching him worship your body, decorating in adoring caresses and chaste kisses, drenching your slick-lined underwear as he picks skin on your inner thigh, gentle love bruises left to remember him by. Hands once fidgeting at your sides curl into his head of waves, teeth sunken into the plump of your lip to conceal your whimpers. A poor job as evidenced by his reserved chuckles, vibration against your skin leading right where you need him — close, but not enough. Hovering, instead of descending where needed.

"Anton," his name comes out in a whine, your expression creased. Drum and bass is alive and well beyond the secrecy of your tent. All you hear is an incessant heartbeat. "We don't have much time. Please."

He pauses high up against your knee, a lasting peck left before he leans his head to your spread thighs, hair tickling your kneecap. "You need me?"

An electric current shoots down your back, brightening your eyes. "I-"

"It's okay, sweet girl," his words hang in the stiff air, kissing a trail from your mid-thigh while you buckle beneath him. He blinks back, seeing right through you. "You're pretty when you can't hide it."

A flush blooms across your sizzling skin, a helplessness to your own desires as features curve into a plead. "Anton, please. I need you — fingers, mouth, anything. Just—"

Words die on your tongue, coming out in a choppy rushed pants as his veined hands pull back your underwear, a string of slick sticking to the wet gusset. The hunger in his eyes intensifies, soiled underwear tossed over his shoulder, forgotten for the sight between your thighs. The fan of his breath enough to make you clench.

"Wanted to do this all night," he muses, a pillowy kiss to your clit. It's a minor action, almost missable, but with a body attuned to his every move, you crumble. He kisses you again just to watch you shudder, only chuckling as he envelopes your clit and folds in a slow, melting kiss. 

It's stupidly good, the feeling of his mouth on you as he kisses you like he did in the forest, slow and dizzying. Moving languidly as if to memorise your taste at every angle. Warm pleasure blooms within, coursing through your bloodstream, fingers weaving through his hair.

When you relax into the slow-mouthed kisses, he surprises you with the swirl of his tongue, broad and all over your clit. A high whine slips through, prolonged to a deep moan as Anton licks up from your weeping hole to your clit again, humming into the flesh. 

Fingers tug automatically, hair released in afterthought. 

“It’s okay,” he chuckles, voice octaves lower. “You can grab my hair. I like it.”

Such innocent words come together, yet paint the opposite. Images quickly shuffle through your hazed-mind, legs wrapped around his middle like a bow as he thrusts up into you, moans and gasps filling the tent. The muscles in his back flexed, beaded sweat a sheen to flushed skin your tongue brushes over, insatiable. He's a bit breathless, as you are, whining low in his throat in a way your ears will remember and burn with. It's so good, it hurts the more you—

"Here?"

Your back bends off the sleeping bag's surface, head lolled back. 

"Is this where you're weak?" he rasps, finger curled to nudge deep inside you, hitting your sweet spot. 

If not for how good you feel right now, you'd be ashamed of how loud you're moaning. 

"Fuck, you sound so good," he grunts, head shaking as he laps at your clit."Want a finger? Why don't you ask me for another?"

Teeth gnaw into the plush of your lip, anticipation rigging your breath ragged as you pant. You're so high off the simple curl of his finger your brain struggles catching up to his words.

"Hm? Want me to finger fuck you?"

That catches your attention, stomach pulling taut. You're nodding, not trusting your voice even if your confirmation still comes out in a breathy, "yes." 

"I didn't take you as greedy," his voice haunts the halls of your mind. Distant yet alluring, evoking an endless desire. "It's okay, I'll give you what you want. I'll keep you satisfied."

Another finger slips in, just as easy as the first. An unmistakable squelch reverberates through the flimsy walls of the camping tent, hitting your ears again and again as Anton keeps hitting that spot in you, drowning you further in a pool of ecstasy. 

"More," he prompts, voice a whisper. "I wanna hear you more. Do it for me."

You don't mean to, your body just complies. No memory serves comparable to what you're experiencing now, pleasure threshold surpassed as your body floats, carried on the cloud of his hands and mouth.

"You're close, aren't you? You're shaking." There's a lick of condescend behind his words, building you up to your demise. "It's okay, we're not finished here. You can come."

The coil snaps, body coming undone. White streaks before your eyes, head flying back as your hands keep his head between your legs, crashing and burning. Hearing nothing but your own screech, you miss the clear liquid drenching Anton's face, making a small pool atop the waterproof sleeping bag. The man between your legs can't quite believe it, huffed disbelief fanning over your cunt as his fingers work you through the release, kitten licks to your clit eventually bucked off due to overstimulation. 

"So sensitive," he remarks after you regain hearing again, body like jelly. "Look at the mess you made with just my fingers and mouth. Imagine what my cock would do…"

Through batted eyelashes, you peer over at him, limbs buzzing. In the shadows of the tent, his lower face shines with your slick, an almost black to his eyes. At least he has the decency to blush so you're not alone, pinkish hue buried beneath his cheek as his hands go for his belt. 

The metal clink of his belt buckle echoes, louder than the rave music a short distance away. With parted legs, Anton's eyes would have watched your cunt clench down on nothing but the image of his cock. Except your eyes are trained on each other, layers of clothing peeled back to reveal who you two really are. 

You couldn't pry yourself from him if you tried. Not when—

A sudden blare of a Fontaines DC song slices through the tent, Anton the first to look away as his jaw ticks with simmered annoyance. It quickly unwinds when he sees the caller ID, phone screen illuminating his face as he takes the call. 

"What's up?" 

An deep exhale lets out of your strained lungs, arms tired from being propped. Gently, your head falls to your beloved festival pillow, lumpy from being packed all kinds of wrong ways. Staring up at the ceiling provides you the chance to piece thoughts together. Everything happened so fast, straggling away from your crowd, smitten words, body pushed up against the bark, held hands on the way to your tent — this. You don't have any words for it because frankly, you've never felt this way before. So at the mercy of someone, someone who learns your tells and shows them to you before you can catch wind. It spins you off your axis, discombobulating what you know as the truth, all with his mouth and fingers.

You're so fucking screwed.

"Hey," his voice calls, a gentle guide back to him. He's got his chin dipped to his chest, a wince to his face. "The guys are with Eunseok at the med-tent, apparently he's in a bit of a k-hole," 

You scramble to sit up, pushing your bunched up dress down over your legs. "Oh my god, is he okay?"

"Probably. This happens often — believe it or not. The last time, he thought the pillar in the club was talking to him," his hand ruffles through his hair, a chuckle coming out that doesn't seem all that amused. Slack at his sides, his arms fall, hands securing his belt back in place. 

Somehow, the sombre silence compels you to jest. "I can't laugh because the one time I came close to one, I skid the skin off my knees running to the girls,"

His veined hands circles around your calf, ghosting the material upto the faded dark patches over your knees. "You're silly. And need to take better care of yourself."

"I was meeting new people that night — overcompensated with all the mixing," you laugh, sound coming out more breathy than intended, Anton's thumb grazing over the skin. His head of hair dips, a sweet kiss inflicting the rise of immediate goosebumps, something like cockiness leftover in his smile. 

"I'm sorry we can't continue," he whispers, slopes of his face emphasized in minimal light. Your heartbeat still prevails over the noise of the festival, house music nothing but a background murmur. "I really, really wanted to," 

Your gaze drops, his erection tucked away, but still very evidently there. 

Dryness coats your throat, cleared in an effort to speak. "Me too."

"The guys and I are gonna be at the beach tomorrow," he suggests, caressing. Always caressing. His eyelashes flutter when he looks through them, at you."I was hoping you could make it there?"

The smirk paints itself, a teasing eyebrow raised. "If you wanted to see me in a bikini so bad, you should've said so."

"I'd rather see you in nothing at all," a force pulls at your legs, his strength pulling you to crash land on his lips. Huffed against you, his need cycles between you two, restraint wavering in a shuddered breath. "Let me go…before I don't go at all."

On your feet, your backs are bent to hunch-walk through the low-ceiling tent, zipped out and back into the wilderness of festival life. Humidity clings to your skin, along with kicked up dust and spotty drizzle. Cheers from the makeshift amusement rides hover close by, lights shining into the sky like a signal. They're no match for the stars, devastatingly bright and reflected back in Anton's eyes as his attention falls to only you.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" his thumb glosses over your knuckles, not quite letting you go.

"Tomorrow." you confirm, a steady nod double proof. 

A lone lip corner picks up at it, teeth indents made into his bottom lip as he dares to pull away, his touch with you until the top of your fingertips. Then, he starts to disappear, parts of his body disappearing past the mass of camping tents. Your body borders on cold, the welcome breeze turning arctic cold. Teeth chatter call for rubbing hands across your upper arms, watching as he walks to his right, towards the med tent. 

Eyes not having left yours, h mouths something like go inside, but you shoo him away, watching each other until neither is visible. Other festival goers come and go, some having DMCs outside their tent while others snog in them. None of them concern you.

Out of the 50,000 attendees, your mind only lingers on one. 

Him and his promise of the beach come tomorrow.

At the beach is a welcome break away from the festival. According to earlier forged traditions, before you'd even check out the festival's stalls or hunt for a dealer, you'd have an afternoon dip in the ocean. Surrounded by moss-covered boulder rocks, the beach is the perfect picture of serene. Vast deep blue, waves outlined in calming porcelain with buttermilk sand serving as its barrier. You'd yell and scream, splashing each other in clothes you'd leave outside your tent to dry, hoping they'd still be there after early-morning venturing raves.

You hadn't fulfilled your tradition this year, the growing attraction to your beloved getaway causing nightmare queues driving into the festival. Some people even walked, lawn chairs and tents slugged under their arms with bucket hats of every colour imaginable on their heads. By the time you'd reached the grounds, midnight blue blanketed the sky and Sullyoon's foot hurt too much from clutch use in start-and-stop traffic. Most of your seven member group hangs back before checking out any last-minute sets, yourself and Kazuha wandering off to the lookout cliff, few friends and coupled straggled around the view overlook the dark ocean. 

"I'm glad we're doing this," you find yourself saying, arms crossed over knees pressed to your chest. "A lot's changed, but at least this hasn't."

"I am too," she muses with an easy smile. "It's been a…weird year. I don't think I was expecting. it."

Graduating university, finding your feet in the adult world, living miles apart from each other. You'd spent so much time with each other leading up to graduation and over the summer that meetups seemed like they'd never end. Like seeing each other every week was a law of the universe. However, as the seasons changed, life makes the unexpected demand for you to be apart, busied by other aspects that require all your attention. You met up when you could, but sometimes that wasn't enough. Heck, you hadn't seen Yunjin in a year before this. 

The wind whistles past your ears, blowing at your hair. 

"Yeah," your agreement is hard to hear, softened by longing. "Me neither."

Out your peripheral, Kazuha turns to you, shoulder nudging into the hand picking at grass. "We've still got this weekend and each other after that. Lots of time to make memories too."

A smile does a slow glide across your face. "Like you getting shouted at in the med tent?"

"I was trying to cheer Jinsol up!" she argues, laughing. "She was scared half to death."

"Yeah, that's what happens when you have a bad trip," you face palm, laughing too. "You either be a good friend and sit still or you get out my tent." 

"Then we all got kicked out," Kazuha folds into you, head on your shoulder. "That pill was really good."

"Yeah, you were more pupil than eyes," your head leans against hers. "I can't wait for the rave in the woods."

I can't wait to make make more memories with you.

"Me too."

After last night's events, the girls are all teasing smirks and quick-raised eyebrows, not asking questions but pretty damn close to it. Even if you don't volunteer information, they know you left with him, see the soft bruising he left on your chest. In the shape of a heart nonetheless. High school or uni didn't offer the enjoyed hell of having a hickey, so it's a bit new. Pressing into the bruising, covering it with concealer, knowing it'll wash off in the ocean. 

On your way there, the chill of the mid-morning tingles numbness into your fingers, you lingering behind your five, side by side with Heejin. 

"I could do with a full breakfast after this," she mentions, squinting at the brightness of the clouded sun. "Turns out not being deathly hungover actually diminishes your appetite." 

"Who would've though," you play along, some sand getting in between your toes. You're coming up to the flight of stairs leading to the beach, sea breeze fierce enough for squeals. "To be fair, that was our first year here and we got carried away with sneaking in alcohol." 

"Those portable charger flasks were our best purchase of the year."

"We got lucky they didn't check all our water packs."

"God bless Yunjin's flirting skills."

"And my VS push-up bra!" she yells ahead, laughter rippling through your group.

Shaking her head, Heejin braces a hand on the rusted metal railing, careful steps onto slanted concrete. "Speaking of bras…."

"Here we go."

A playful shove jostles you towards the opposite railing. "What? Was the tall drink of a man a bust?"

The opposite, actually. "Nah, not even close."

"Oh?"

"But we got interrupted," you sigh, growing beach population dotted amidst the sand. "He said he'd be at the beach today."

"You kept that quiet," she jokes, stepping off the last step. "Well, the beach is pretty big. You'd be lucky if— "

"There they are!" 

Not far from where your group clutters around the bottom of the staircase, Anton's friends occupy a spread of the beach, surfboards, tie-dye towels and a sandcastle amongst their many possessions. Some adorn surf vests while others tan shirtless, ocean's droplets trailing their skin. Unfortunately for you, Anton belongs to the latter, in the middle of taking off his surfers shirt.

At the mention of your group, his head emerges from the piece of clothing, blinking his surprise away. For a moment, there's a flare of self-consciousness, the bob of his Adam's apple evident, but when knowing presents itself in his smile, only you remain flustered. 

Despite clouds crowding the Sun, your skin burns with a sharp prickle, a sinking drop of want conjured in your belly. Thoughts instantly revert to last night, in the low-light of the tent, his face between your legs, lapping at you like you would quench his thirst. The hint of condescend hanging behind his goading words, how he smiled against— 

"You coming?" Yunjin hollers, trance broken. Beyond you, the girls situate themselves within the group, space cleared for your presence. Where Yunjin calls from, she points to a chair conveniently stationed where Anton sits. "Saved you a seat."

As if they couldn't make it any more obvious.

Not that anyone else didn't know. You could the bemused smirks and poorly hid stifled snickers from a mile away. 

Looks like your beach day would be everything but relaxing.

Fallen closed, your eyes flutter open, an almost reluctant sigh out your mouth before your flip flops trudge through the grainy sand. Under their comically large parasol, Anton gazes up at you, book stationed in his lap.

"You read?" 

"That's what I was thinking!" Yunjin rips open a bag of chips, tossing some in her mouth. "Thought he was doing the whole performative male thing to impress you."

"Well, not that he hasn't from what I've heard," she shrugs at your appalled expression, focus directed to the man next to you. "I'd school you in feminist literature, so don't even try."

A good-hearted chuckle is introduced, featherlight against your spine. "The world doesn't need me mansplaining feminist literature, don't worry,"

"Besides, I don't get the whole performative male trend thing anyways," he explains, sitting back in his chair, hips jutting in adjustment. Your head is on a prompt swivel afterwards. "Were guys not reading books before?"

In sheer coincidence, all six of your friends look at each other before laughter breaks out, the deep, chesty kind that has you doubled over, teary-eyed. The guys look to each other, taken aback. 

Except for Sungchan, eyes creased with mirth. "I can't remember last time I read one."

"Think I last read one in like, grade two," Sohee offers.

"Explains why you can't differentiate between you're and your." Anton jokes, teasing smirk not deterred by the fake punch Sohee jabs his way.

Wonbin's nose crinkles, slouching further into his blue and white chair fit for a child. "I tried the whole performative thing, couldn't hack the taste of matcha." 

Hovering just behind him, Seunghan rolls his eyes, bleached eyebrows on their last legs. "Clairo was my top artist last year. I've been setting trends."

"Okay, enough with the ego battle," Heejin's eyebrow knit, nodding her head towards the source of her observation. "What's up with the sandcastle?"

It's pretty impressive, all things considered. Dolphins line the exterior of the castle, the two-storey sandy architecture dotted with small plastic starfish and seashells that have somehow found their way into Wonbin's and Shotaro's hair. 

"It's halfway made, had to stop since Sohee complained about getting sand in his eye," Shotaro explains with comedic timing, head turned back to witness Eunseok kick up more sand into his eyes, his shriek accompanied with his friend's laugh. "Wanna finish it?"

On her stripped green and white beach towel, she and Choerry share a look. Then shrug. "Why not?"

The communal conversation ends, people branching off into their beach activities of the day: sandcastle building, tanning and going for a dip in the ocean. You fall back into your designated chair, almost winded from the conversation.

"All I did was ask you a question." you muse, swiping the side of your face, laughing a little.

"That's how it always is — with us, anyways," Anton explains, slouching into his chair. He's got black shades on, sitting pretty on his nose bridge, your stomach's residing butterflies alive and well. "Despite how soft we speak, we actually talk a lot."

Your grin's shit-eating, hand clasped over your ear with a lean over to him. "What was that?"

Something about being with him makes you seesaw between playfulness and nervous wreck. It's the only time you welcome the tide changes. "Had to, sorry."

"Don't be sorry. I should be," he adjusts himself with the lift of his hips, his knee knocking against yours. An air of earnestness comes in with the sea breeze, his sunglasses used to push back his hair, nothing coming between his gaze on you. "I left yesterday." 

He's said it, acknowledged it. Not pretend nothing ever happened like the other douches you had the displeasure of meeting, with your friends present too.

"To tend to a friend, yes," you heave out, hands running up and down the grain of your cargo jorts. Was it always this hot? "Is he feeling any better?" 

Repeated huffs make their way to your ears, attention directed to beyond your mix of friends, Eunseok and Sohee busy themselves with fake jabs and ducked heads. Sohee's motions are more fluid, a jab almost landed to the surprise of them both. Eunseok then prompts him to watch, the older of the two lifting up into a random backflip.

Anton and yourself look at each other, bitten back amusement heavy in your disbelief. 

"Yeah, think so," he answers, a chuckle at the end. Then it dulls completely, only waves crashing and distant conversation hanging around. "Did you enjoy? Last night, I mean."

Your breath stutters, an upheaval in your chest. In the slump of your exhale, your head turns away, nails grating into the chair's wooden arms. 

"Did you?" you ask. Your throat clears, scratchy and lodged. "We didn't get to you."

"What I get isn't the main priority." 

Fuck.

The mouth on this guy. 

Suddenly, the heat dials up to intolerance, skin prickling under layers you shoot out your chair to remove. 

"You going for a dip? I'm kinda feeling hot."

In the ruckus of you tearing off clothing items, his murmured "Wonder why," hits your ears. A look tossed over your shoulder earns held up hands of surrender, something akin to bashful in his features.

His bones creak as he stands, toned torso in plain sight. It's the very reason why your eyes were averted throughout the conversation, ocean droplets hanging off his body in a mean taunt. He could say the same thing as he watches you shimmy out of your jorts and baby tee, bikini draping your curves like a fitted glove. For what feels like a rarity, he coughs into his fist with the turn of his head, hoping you don't see the blush creeping to his cheeks.

You do.

Timidity melts with hours spent in the sun, easiness in your interactions with Anton and his group that quickly become close friends with yours. Some things may skew under the influence but not your opinion of their group, their playful boyish nature almost endearing to be around. The kind of guys who know how to have fun without the expense of someone else, all good natured fun. After your dip in the ocean, water splashed around while you and Anton revert to your child selves, you join your big group again, spectators and eventual participants in tales traded in the conversation that never runs dry. 

Sometime later, when the sun's more gentle on the skin, the girls and yourself trudge your way over to the surf tournament on the opposite end of the beach. The guys hang back to move all their plentiful belongings to the campsite, their seats reserved in the circle you manage to carve out in the tightly packed beach, terrain full of enthusiasts who cheer and clap during warm-ups. 

"Hey," Sullyoon calls out, phone brightness on high to show off the photo of Larry the Lobster next to Jinsol's sunburnt face. "Spot the difference." 

She earns a shove to their shared beach towel, snickers circling round your group. "Not funny. I thought I re-applied it."

Smacking on gum, Kazuha's line of sight lingers on the surfer girl walking past, golden hair like ocean waves. "Too busy thinking about last night." 

Mouth slacking, you knock her knees in surprise. "What happened last night?" 

"You weren't the only one who got some, " Sullyoon chuckles, arms crossing around knees she brings to her chest. "We all saw Jinsol make-out with Wonbin in 4K," 

"I was high on molly!" Jinsol protests, looking for believers amongst none. "I loved everyone at that moment!"

Heejin does a poor job at hiding her amusement, digging her feet into the sand. "No one mentioned love," she muses.

"I get it though. If I kissed someone who pulled off pink hair that well, I'd fall too."

A whistle blows, warm-ups over with the MCs's voice broadcasts throughout the beach, string of surfer lingo lost on you as your group simply resorts to clapping, laughing at Heejin's remark.

"I'm not—" Jinsol's voice reaches an all-time high, the sheer volume making her hunch into herself. Fiddle with the hem of her oversized linen shirt."It was a one time thing, okay?"

Sullyoon nudges her with her shoulder, a kinder tint to her smirk. "Didn't look it." her head falls to her best friend's shoulder, a tinge of longing in her tone. "Can't believe I've been replaced."

Jinsol detects it immediately, a kiss laid upon Sullyoon's cooper brown locks. 

"I could never replace you."

The same sentiment carries through to all six of you huddled together, reliving every past summer with them at your side. Even when the guys come back and settle in like they'd never left, the feeling never diminishes. A red string of fate weaves itself around your pinkies, another one quietly tethering itself to the man sat behind you.

Waking up Sunday morning fills your body with a satisfied sadness. Every year is like this, shuffling around cocooned in your sleeping bag, chatting in stripped voices with friends who are already reliving the weekend's memories. Again, you swear you'll come back next year and every year in university, that was one of life's certainties. However, now when one or two echo the same sentence, you're holding onto straws as tight as possible, wishing — praying it's true. Because, how after four years of coming here, is this the best year yet? 

Excluding Anton's presence, something feels so purposeful about this year. Time carved out with the intention to be together like before, because you're not afforded that casual luxury anymore. Each joke, hug, tumble and song belted together feels all the more special, soul finding its true home in the bodies of your lovely six — the girls you wouldn't trade for anything. Not even for the feeling Anton gives you. 

In a way, he feels like a first. A bouquet of them all wrapped in one — the only you've orbited around and hasn't wanted to lose you in the crowd. Hell, he'd even reach for you like he did when your groups split for different night DJ sets. How ever small the action, it still sticks with you, still does as you're munching on pain au chocolats for breakfast, Heejin smiling a chocolate-chip stained smile for your group in the common room. Laughter surrounds you, everyone so happy, even more so when Kazuha leans in with a stuck out tongue as if to lick it. Heejin cowers, Kazhua collapsing into her lap and it's so beautiful it hurts. Your head leans to your closest, Choerry's shoulder sturdy as you've always known it to be. Even though you can't see it, you hear her smile before her head angles onto yours, united like you've always been.

Like you'll always be.

After freshening up and getting dressed for the day, your plentiful jewellery jangles with each step, making your way to the morning stages. Half the festival's still asleep, groggy over the non-stop days and nights partying. You're all plagued with fatigue, but it doesn't make itself known, triumphing over the fuzzy feeling as your arms drape over each other's shoulders, at the barricade of a small-time DJ your group's been obsessed since your second year, his remix all on your music wrapped top five songs. Not many others are at the set, maybe three to four waves of people behind your bodies but it doesn't deter the DJ. He's even smiling, egged on by the obnoxious belting your friends do to your beloved remix, two fingers flicked into the air.

"I thought it was a myth!" Jinsol yells into your ear, a laughing look of disbelief. "A real-life frat boy flick — in the flesh!"

"You're doing amazing, sweetie!" The comment hurls from you, Sullyoon to your right having detached from you to do a frenzied two step, pumping her body with a complimentary frat flick. It's ridiculous, so much that your stomach cramps from long laughter. But it's so needed, all the hours you spend together before and afterwards. 

Two sets and a lot of dancing later, you grab fish and chips by the beach, ducking and diving in the sand from overly friendly seagulls. After they've snagged half your meal, you all dip your toes in the ocean, kicking up water with the excuse of cooling off. Eventually, your hands clasp together, patches of sea water embedded into your flowy clothing, a firm promise to comeback sent into the universe. 

This time, you don't doubt it to be true. 

At the height of early afternoon, after crawling the trampled grounds for other acts and photo opportunities, you eventually settle on visiting the carnival. There's teacups, a Ferris Wheel and rigged games you play anyways, a stroke of luck awarding Choerry a large Care Bear she promises to share group-wide custody with. Your weekend mascot, Kazuha supplies. 

In the chaos of ring toss and going dizzying-green on the teacups, you almost miss sight of him. Almost. If not for you bumping into him, hands steadying yourself on his chest. 

You blink away the dizzy film across your eyes, swivelled head coming to rest as you feel a chuckle rumble beneath your hands.

"You ok there?"

The same smile plays on his face, figure haloed by the beginnings of a sunset. "Never better."

"Did you enjoy the beach?" he asks, no move done to remove your hands. 

His hands come to rest on your hips, your own bubble created off to the side of the rides. Out the corner of your eye, yours and his friends intersect, dishing out hugs like family. 

"How'd you know I was there?" your eyebrow quirks, hands smoothing over the collar of his black and white baseball long-sleeve. "You stalking me?"

His eyes crease like you're a comedian. "If I knew your handle, then yes,"

"But there's a seashell in your hair," he muses, one hand retrieving it to put it between you two. Iridescent shell curving itself, pearl white its outer shell. "Is this how you keep it safe for the ride home?"

"You'd be surprised what my hair can keep," you respond, the shrieks of teacup riders a hair width away. "Seashells, secrets."

"What secrets?" 

Your hand beckons him over, his head dipped as he lends you an ear, hand cupping around it. On the height of your toes, you whisper. "Kings of Leon are on in five. Let's line up for the Swing Tower." 

Anton pulls away, a deep nod his answer. "We should get going, shouldn't we?"

His head turns behind him, flagging his friends close by. "We're gonna ride the Swing Tower if you wanna join?"

"We'll leave you lovebirds alon— " Sohee's silenced by Shotaro's hand over him, rest of his sentences muffled but widely known. 

"We'll be right behind you." Shotaro says with a convincing smile, eyes moon crescents behind his thin-rimmed silver glasses. 

Another knowing look is traded between Anton and yourself before you lead your group to the queue steps away, Anton's hand a ghost on your lower back. The quiet presence anchors you in place, the floating feeling of a good trip settling in. In the odd gusts of faint wind, you conversate with those closest to you — Seunghan, Wonbin along with Sullyoon and Jinsol. Something about other festivals you've been to over the years, one out of the many mentioned aligning at the start of September. 

"Starting off the summer and ending it together," Wonbin gathers, arms folding. "It's like fate, no?"

Somehow, your eyes find Anton's, startled but all too aware, you would've found each other then. 

"It is." he answers, only to you.

A long moment keeps you unmoving, the orange sun splaying over his large pupils. Without meaning to, your attention strays, witnessing the downturned smiles of the four others. You're about to breach another conversation topic before the worker maning the queue calls you forward, an onslaught of previous customers shuffling off in a line next to you.

Ascending the rickety metal stairs of the ride, jitters nibble away at your flesh. All the restless anticipation built over the day boils down to now, a time where the excitement crosses over into nervous territory with Anton leading the way. You simply follow along to a swing fit for two, its hot pink shade an eyestrain. You fiddle with your rings the entire way, plotting down with the laboured rise and fall of your chest. A real sense of entrapment comes when the same worker comes over, heavy safety bar crushing you into place. 

Somewhere behind you, you hear something akin to Yunjin and maybe Eunseok's yells despite the swing not moving yet. You want to look back, but you're frozen in place, knees weak enough to give out. Thank goodness you were—

Warmth blankets the top of your hand, your palm strikingly cold against the safety bar. What's previously heard as a loud jumble of sound separate from one another, the monster not as scary as your head turns to the hand's source. 

Anton wears the sunset on his face, flow between features like a slow moving river. He speaks the same way too, slow like molasses. 

"Hey, you're good. We're good," he assures, fingers weaving between yours to push your hand harder against the bar. "Kings of Leon deserves to this kind of listening experience."

You crack a laugh despite yourself, his words not all it takes to make the nerves disappear but enough to make friends with them. The exhausted engine the ride starts up with doesn't inspire lots of confidence, sputtering as if on its last legs. But when your swing starts moving, gliding through the chilled air, a lightness takes up your chest cavity. The hard thud of your own heart demands attention, but when the distinct drum solo ending of Manhattan hits your ears, you're unreasonably giddy, sinking into the notes. Hoots and hollers slice through the flowing air, almost child-like as the swings gain traction, hoisting further into the sky. The sun draws closer, almost like you could reach out and grab it. There's a beauty in how cotton candy floss the sky looks, clouds pastel pink dipped in peach around their edges. Their backdrop is almost purple in nature, light blue having since faded. Moisture collects in your squinted eyes, wind cutting through them while you work overtime to admire the view.

It's not really anything you care for in the lulls of your life, but moments like this make the hues sing to your soul, resounded by the gentle guitar strings of Time in Disguise. In your version of events, Use Somebody played like it would in the perfect coming-of-age film. But life isn't like that, a cookie-cutter of perfect events. Sometimes you get your chips stolen by entitled seagulls and sometimes you're so afraid of heights, you're bending the safety bar with your grip. It's not perfect by any means, but it's pretty damn close to it. 

When you're at the top, nothing but clouds and birds around, your head turns beside you. Anton's got one hand raised, fingers spread like he'll catch the wind between them. The sunset does him favours he doesn't need, shadows cast in the sharp angles of his face, a painting of sentimental as his lips part in a silent sing-along. The lyrics amplify out your chest, volume whipping his head round with the flare of life in his eyes. There's a small tremble in your voice, masked by the sky-high winds but even if there's no blanket to hide behind, you're still unashamed. Sharing giggles with each other in lyrics known by heart, each word louder than the last. At the chorus littered with questions, your hand relents, prying off the poor safety bar but tightly-woven into Anton's, kept between your bodies as the other hand extends to catch wind like his did. While you may age years down the line, memory coming and going, you find it hard to say you'll forget this moment — friends' unmistakable cheers adlibs to Caleb Followill's soulful voice, time nothing but a disguise amongst the clouds. 

Eventually, when you reach the ride's pinnacle, it comes to a momentary halt. It's not as thrilling stopped, the denseness of being so many feet in the air putting you on the wrong side of weightless, core tensed. A squeeze to your held hands alerts you over to Anton, his finger extended over into the horizon. 

"See there?" he gestures to the biggest stage of the festival, an unearthly field worth of people watching the performance. "That's where they are. They're playing I Want You — which is their best song, by the way."

"Why do I feel like you're the type to watch music festivals when drunk?" you ask, playing off distant memories at your uncle's house, sipping on grape juice and beer respectively while watching Glastonbury stages.

He cast you a side glance, trying not to smile. "Are you psychic or in my walls?"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." 

Your held hands fall to your shared lap, his broad shoulder free real estate you take upon yourself to indulge, laying your head down. It's only a scarce amount of seconds before his head leans as well, on top of yours before a yell from behind calls to you. 

With a micro shift in your swing, you manage to catch a familiar platinum bob, belonging to none other than Jinsoul. Your head cannot crane further to see who sits beside her. 

"It's Sullyoon," Anton supplies with a wink.

"We snapped a really cute photo! You'll like it!" Jinsoul holler mid-air, your thanks and thumbs up thrown her way. 

"I think looking at my phone would make me sick."

"Don't worry, I've got it." his hand pats his trouser pocket, pulling out his own. Instead of navigating through AirDrop, he opens up his camera app, lens full of the saturating sunset.

"Get it before it goes," you encourage, clicks off going as the camera captures it landscape and portrait, in different frame settings too.

"They'll be all yours once we're back down," he says, holding the device with his non dominant hand. In an absent tap, the camera flips onto you two, the picture of domesticity pulling your head back slightly. "My bad."

"No, take it." you're scooching closer into the frame when there's no need to, cheek squished into the curve of his shoulder. Searching eyes flicker down to yours in a question of reassurance, your head nod all he needs before he shakes his head to fluff his hair.

Lavender makes its way to your nose, dry shampoo doing the heavy lifting for his hair according to Wonbin tidbit shared in the queue. In near direct sunlight, your eyes squint slightly, spying the peace signs posed behind your backs as he snaps the photo, 1 of 1. 

Just as he's stashing his phone away, the ride moves again, swing moving forwards again as the rig lowers. While your fear waits to kiss the ground once back down, a slight longing hangs in the curtains of your emotions, eased by the brush of Anton's thumb to your knuckles, voice louder to sing to Radioactive. 

Back on your own two feet is when your hands finally release, clammy in some areas, but a none issue for Anton who only jokingly bumps into your side on the way tothe rest of your group. In the quick discussion of what to do, quickly deciding to catch the rest of Kings of Leon's set, your phone pings in your bumbag. Unzipped, you unlock it, only to be distracted by an Airdrop request from Jinsol. Looking at her, she, Sullyoon and a nosy Sungchan admire the photos, thumbs up sent your way. Once delivered, the image takes up your entire screen.

It's like you're sitting at the height of the world, feet dangling off the swing as the sunset eclipses your faces. Your face is largely unseen, focused on the ahead sunset, but Anton's side profile is most prominent, eyes drinking in every drop of you. The pastel background emphasizes the affection in his expression, an almost honey-like sweetness dripping from his eyes. It's stunning, very much worthy of the thumbs up.

Another notification blocks the picture, an Airdrop message from Nugu6000. 

You're about to delete it before Anton's soft voice tells you it's him, the shake of your head his only response. There's 17 photos in total, sixteen of them the breath-taking sky at all angles, your favourite amongst many. The last photo, different from the rest, is your picture together. It's just as sweet as Jinsol's photo, maybe even more because now both your faces are visible, the same sentiment displayed in both.

It doesn't take long to be added to your favourites folder, tucked away with the 16 sky photos, phone turned off to the image of you two hanging at the top of the universe. 

For someone who was undecided on going to Kings of Leon's set, you sure knew their lyrics, classics dusted off the shelves of your memory as you bob along with the crowd. No effort's made to venture further like last night, the freedom of the outskirts outweighing the hassle of being swept away. 

Live music is an experience you'll always chase, something deep in you seeking raw vocals and strum of the guitar you feel course through your veins. Even with its' dulled ache through the mileage collected over the weekend, your feet never stop moving, two-stepping into the crowd as Anton shadows you, an enthused nod bringing out laughter in you. 

In curiosity, your eyes comb over your surroundings, starstruck faces many in the crowd, all sharing the look of enjoyment. Of freedom the music gives, telling a story all up to one's interpretation. The same enjoyment tugs at your lips, eyes falling back to your group who again, enjoy nothing more than each other's company, interwoven in ways that seem like forever. Yunjin and Eunseok have their backs to each other, air-guitaring while Shotaro, Choerry, Sungchan and Kazuha have their arms looped over each other's shoulders swaying, singing obnoxiously loud. The rest nod along, unfamiliar with the words but not the sentiment, the same happiness in them too. 

It's a moment you wish you could keep in a glass bottle forever, revisit when life was its clear opposite. 

You don't allow yourself to go there, not even by a millimetre, sinking your teeth into the beauty of the moment. The frontman, Caleb, converses with the crowd, band members egging on crowd reactions as a lone drum beat comes. It brings the crowd alive, a call and response created to jump-start the song everyone knows and responds to.

Use Somebody.

Everyone's hands go sky-high, up as they fall into the rhythm of a slow left to right. The weightlessness is there, infectious with everybody in the largest crowd of the weekend. Anton's behind you, a comforting presence as his hand shadow yours, a brief squeeze of your hands making you laugh with the easiness that comes with him, a warm light shining from within. 

In your ear, you hear him sing, tender like he wants to charm butterflies. You flock to him regardless, turning back around to get a good look at him. He's tanned beautifully over the past sunny days, beloved by the sun bringing out the deep olive of his complexion. His hair's wind swept, not fussed over since the Swing Tower and he…just looks so content. With everything, with the band performing in front of him, his friends around and your hands in his. Something divine swipes over your figures, dissipating the crowd to only your two souls. Eyes dazzling, lyrics flowing and just the right type of romance.

The kind you didn't think as conceivable in the wake of non-committal jokes. The kind wicked uni boys convinced you you'd do without, only amounting to the promise of a good time.

Again, Anton's eyes crease, a crinkle to his nose. He looks at you like you're something special and even without him, you know it to be true. It's just nice to have him see it too.

Kissing him never gets old, but there's a special kind of kiss done lost in the crowd, Sex on Fire beginning in the background. You smile at the irony, looping your arms around his nape while you rock yourself onto your tip toes, wanting it all. There's leftover sugar grains on his lips, the taste of cinnamon and vanilla ice cream on his tongue. His hands anchor down at your hips, the only thing tethering you down to earth as the rest of you floats. Nothing more consumes your mind more than your lips on him, everything an afterthought as his tongue glides over your bottom lip.

Desperate fingers tangle into his locks of hair, pulling when his teeth catch between your lip, the slightest tug drawing a whine out of you. And he has the audacity to smile afterwards, against your lips like your body isn't hot coal level warm. 

When your lungs scream for air, constricted beyond comfort is only when you bear to pry from Anton, eyes blinking apart to focus again. He's so clear to you, wrapped in hues of orange and red, brimming with the same fondness you feel tickle in your chest. 

No part of you wants to stop, neither does Anton who goes back in for more. You swear your hear some wolf whistles, but this time all you can do is laugh, pecking him back before your seeking hands grab ahold of his, set in your way as you lead him through the jostling crowd.

On your way out, your eyes catch on Jinsol, shoulders blanketed in Wonbin's embrace as they nod along to the song's last notes. Like clockwork, she catches onto yours, tawny brown eyes wide all before her lips curve into a knowing smirk, the words 'have fun' mouthed before you pass.

It's Friday all over again, same hand clasped and fingers interlocked, you leading him where more awaits. Except there's no jittery feeling nipping at your turning stomach, no tremble of your hand. Just the satisfaction of having Anton all to yourself, all while you can. 

Not a moment is wasted, the quick unzip and zip of the tent you've called home for the weekend the only thing you grab ahold of before you're swept off your feet. He brings you impossibly close, demanding hands swallowing the underside of your bare thighs as you jump into his arms, rocking yourself on his growing erection with moans that bleed over.

It's hungry, the way you both move for a surface to fuck on, your back eventually meeting the polyester of your trusty sleeping bag. His hand comes from underneath your head, wanting to cushion your fall but as he comes back up for air, you do too, following him in flimsy kisses as clothes get tossed aside, shaky pants all you hear beyond the quiet festival murmur.

"Anton," you rasp, desperately needy as his mouth trails the sweet skin of your neck, marking his presence. "Don't tease. Not now."

He licks a long stripe against the skin, tasting salt and the unique blend of you that makes him moan. "I won't,"

A chaste kiss presses against you, the brush of his lips the aftermath. "Even my patience has limits."

The gruff of his words pool heat in your swirling belly, a pathetic mess between your legs he firms open with skimming kisses, unable to deny himself a sliver of you. Once his hands hit the waistband of your underwear, pretty accent bow a feast for his eyes, they flicker up to yours. He's all pupils, a slim ring of brown around darkness illuminated by Yunjin's pearl light. The way he's looking at you — like he can't wait to eat you — you're surprised he doesn't rip the material in half, having the decency to peel the soaked material off, watching the string of slick connected to the gusset stretch. A pained sound claws from his chest, canines digging deep into his bottom lip as he watches the vulgar show, all until the material is discarded.

"Poor girl. So wet for me," he says, inching closer to you. Anticipation makes your thoughts race, your only focus pinpointed on the man between your legs. "I'll take care of you now. Just be good for me."

In the echo of his words, he lines himself with your weeping cunt, face contorting into the sweet mix of pleasure and devastation as he slides in. As vaguely gauged in moments of intimacy, he's big, fat tip stretching your hole in a preview for what his hard length brings. Immediately, your legs twitch, idle hands not knowing what to do except claw into the sleeping bag's swishing material, long overdue moans filling the thin walls. 

"You're so—ngh," you grunt, eyebrows screwed together, mouth panting. "Fuck."

"You can take it, I know you can," he goads, a teasing curve to his plump lips, back of his finger cascading up your flushed cheek. The hairs on your sweat-slicked neck stand, deep inhale filling your lungs. "Look at how needy you are, squirming for more."

His dense stare bores into your flesh, not addressed as your eyes focus on the view between your legs. Quietly watching, his veined pelvis draws closer, neatly trimmed pubes an airbrush to sensitive skin as his hard cock slides into you, cruel and achingly slow. It's more of a shuddered breath than calm exhale you do as he stretches your walls, quick to come down on him as his hand bruises your hip. Only when he's buried to the hilt can you breath again, a struggling moan climbing out your lips as you peer up with creased brows, the ghost of Anton's smirk all that's left as his mouth parts with pleasure. 

"Should've done this ages ago," he remarks, a grunt heaved out his chest. "Fuck, you're squeezing me so good" 

An experimental roll of his hips has you gripping at the material of your sleeping bag, his pine oak scent embracing you as he gives you more. A lazy fog begins on the edges of your vision, the rush of blood pounding in your ears competing with the slap of skin, his pelvis and heavy balls smacking against the plush of your ass. It's nasty, the indecent squelch echoing where you two meet, satisfaction curving Anton's red-kissed lips. 

"Hear that? Oh, she's crying for me," his sentence ends with a haunting chuckle, cunt clamping down to the filth of it. While he builds a steady rhythm, making sure to touch every inch of your sensitive walls, your eyes roll back, arms shaking to the burst of pleasure quickly overwhelming you. "Just like that, needy girl. Let go, let me make you feel good."

Your toes curl with a teeth-bared grunt, the drag of each vein and ridge pooling a thick, hot ball of insatiable lust in your belly, body hunching into itself. Anton opens the valve to your endless moans, desperate sounds unrecognisable to your burning ears as he goes hard enough to make your breasts jump each thrust. 

"That's so good," you wither, willing the tears of overwhelm not to overflow. "You're so fucking good, oh my god."

"No one does it better, right? No one fucks you like I do?" 

"Yesyesyes!" the confirmation resounds through the tent, for his ears and yours. You sniffle, close to breaking. "Only you, Anton. Only you." 

He grunts, expression taut in restrain."You're so sweet for me, angel," air pushes out his chest rhythmically, echoing the pace of his fast thrusts. 

"Harder, harder!" you squeal, white-knuckling the material underneath you. "Give it to me, please!"

"Fuck," he curses out, a momentary lapse in movement used to adjust himself, both hands iron-tight on your humping hips. "You begging gets me so hard. Makes me wanna do filthy things to you."

"Do it!" your hips buck on him, starved for more. "Want it all, Ton." 

Determination lining the hard edges of his face, thrusts come down on your body with a punishing force, the breath knocked out of you. Your eyes cross, girthy cock splitting you open in the best way, skin friction licking heat up your bowed spine. 

The whole room spins, festival the furthest thing from mind. The world boils to this, to Anton and the only kind of pleasure he gives you, the explosive burst of ecstasy ticking in you like a time-bomb. 

"I'll—ah! I'll come if you d-don't slow down," you warn, weak outstretched hand. The high you're on hurtles you towards ground unknown, the inkling feeling drawing slight panic in your eyes that can only slow blink. "I'm gonna p—!" 

"Sounds like you don't know your body like I do," he has the audacity to smirk, gold chain beating between his collarbones, chiselled torso something of your wettest dreams. One hand relents off your hip, skin perfectly bruised as it slides between you two, bunched fingers rubbing your clit. "You're gonna make a mess for me, baby. Go on, it'll feel good."

A snake to a charmer, your body moves to his notes, the world imploding all around you. You crash into your orgasm hard, air strangled out your burning lungs as your gasp echoes in the back of your mind, head thrown back with a hard thud. Body no longer yours, it moves on its own accord, thrashing around as the pleasure ripples through every micro cell, cunt shooting out a flood of liquid drenching Anton's lower half and your poor sleeping bag (again). You're too out of it to conceive the matter, much less sheepishly apologize, nonsensical babbles running out your mouth.

"Sit tight, pretty girl. I'm right there with you," his words make their way to you, heavy and tormented. "God, gonna fill you up just right. Have you dripping with my come. You want it, don't you? Don't you, sweet girl?"

He's still working circles over your aching clit, overstimulation creeping in ever so slightly, unimaginable bliss close behind. Your body can only shiver, hard and continuously, hips still bucking to meet his thrusts as he ruts one last time before he stills. His tip jabs hard against your cervix, unleashing a deep-seated scream that forces you into your own orgasm, cheeks gathering moisture as you come with a cry. 

It's a long while before the world makes sense again, pulled out of your closest to heaven experience, arms blanketing your eyes. Laboured, your chest heaves, hard pressed for air that makes its way to your brain again, pumping blood slowing in the background. Your core shakes in overuse, not bothering with sitting up and only looking, one eye cracked open with your arms pushing up slightly. In your lethargic film-coated gaze, Anton's top half brackets over yours, pants resounding with a sweat-layered fringe sticking to his forehead, tongue swiping over his lips. 

Mid swipe, his eyes flicker over to yours, kindness blooming across his face. He smiles like he's been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. 

Seems like his words have caught up to him.

"That was," he murmurs, thumb and index finger ironing out his scrunched eyebrows. "A lot. I'm sorry if that was uncomfortable for you." 

"The opposite, actually," you end up saying, surprising yourself and him, owlish blinks shared between the two of you. "I-I liked it — if you couldn't tell."

His eyes drop down to your sleeping bag, clear liquid sat on the waterproof surface. "I had a feeling."

The embarrassment diasrms you, hands running over your hot face while you scramble for words to say. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know I could do that, I'll take care of it."

He laughs like you've told a joke, nose scrunched with a gasp-like laughter. "No hard feelings, I'm glad I could make you feel something good — something new."

Your tongue clicks, enough energy restored to have you sit upwards, scepticism narrowing your eyes. "Should've never believed the girls when they said you're the shy type."

His hand cups around the half of his mouth, voice dropped to a loud whisper. "It's always the shy ones."

You chuckle with him, swatting away his hand, only him to grasp onto you, fingers interlocking in a slow, gentle move. The uptake in your heart rate is comical, breath shallow as Anton's larger hand gives yours a squeeze of comfort, smile like honey. 

"I'm glad I came here," he lets you know, eyes on yours as they've always been. "I'm glad I met you." 

A homeliness engulfs your heart, body warm and buzzing. "I'm glad I met you too." 

Monday is an odd day. The grogginess of non-stop partying finally catching up with your battered body, sandy eyes burning with each lazy blink. Much isn't said as you dissemble your weekend home, packing away your lumpy pillow you really have to replace next year, saying goodbye to Yunjin's pearl light too.

Speaking of Anton, in yet another stroke of fate ─ out of all the cars crawling in the long exiting lines of the festival, their black Land Rover inches right beside yours, surfboards and camping miscellaneous hanging out the back. Along with Sohee and Eunseok, waving to your car. 

In the car seat opposite yours, Anton pulls out his wired earphones, looking frontwards where Shotaro speaks from the driver's sear. A nod in your direction is all it takes for the red string to connect again, your smiles instant and everlasting.

A few mouthed words are traded, left to personal interpretation before he hoists his phone up. Projected on his lockscreen is nothing but sheer coincidence, the song playing sending your heart into a series of flutters. A full circle moment to the summer you'd been longing for. 

Wish You Were Mine. 

And lucky for him, he doesn't have to wish. You are his as much as summer is yours, sea breeze blowing through rolled-down windows as Sullyoon's car chases the sun, fast-tracked to your next adventure.

thank you for reading! („• ֊ •„)੭

comments, reblogs and likes are much appreciated.ᐟ ᰔ

The bell chimed over Enzo’s door as Mike and you walked in. The warmth from the candles spread onto you, your ears listened to the soft classical music.

“We actually did it, ” Mike breathed out, his eyes looking over the scenes in front of you two. “I can’t believe this is real. This isn’t some sort of hallucination or trauma-induced fantasy, right?”

“It’s all real—but if we hear a grandfather clock chiming, we run,” you teased.

He snorted, then gave you his classic Mike Wheeler grin. “Deal.”

The two of you arrived a little earlier than you had reserved so you both sat down on the plush velvet bench, patiently waiting to be sat. Your heart thumped in your chest as you glanced a look at Mike. His eyes were sparkling with curiosity, and his usual messy curls were styled with care.

You noticed one curl falling out, and without thinking you reached out and pushed it back. Mike’s head turned, looking at you with confusion laced in his eyebrows.

“I was just fixing your hair,” you shyly said, embarrassment filling your cheeks.

“Oh, thanks,” he smiled, his hand absentmindedly reaching to where your hand was previously.

The hostess came over, signalling your table was ready. She led you to a small table tucked away in the corner, half-shadowed, intimate. A single candle burned in the middle of the table, the warm flame casting a yellow glow on its surroundings.

Mike awkwardly pulled out your chair for you, but you could feel the sincerity in his action. Enough for something to flutter low in your stomach.

“Thank you,” you softly thanked him.

He shrugged, but you could see the corners of his ears had turned pink. “It was no problem.”

When he sat across from you, the candlelight caught his face in a way that made him seem older despite it not being that long from when you had defeated Vecna.

You both picked up your menus, but neither of you actually read them.

“So,” you said, your eyes flicking over the edge of the menu. “Do you remember how this promise even happened?”

Mike laughed quietly. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Hey!”

He lowered his menu. “No—that’s not what I meant. It’s burned into my brain, we were stressed out. I was in the watch tower with Lucas praying you were okay in the Upside Down with Hopper. We were exhausted, you were convinced you were going to die.”

“And you said if we survived, we were coming here. No walkie talkies and strategy meetings, just us and delicious food,” you finished.

You and Mike made eye contact with each other, the tension between the two of you growing with every passing second. The moment was shortly broken when the waiter showed up to take your orders. Both of you ordered your main dishes as well as a side of garlic bread.

When the waiter left, Mike cleared his throat. “You look really good tonight, by the way.”

You raised an eyebrow. “‘By the way’?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I noticed immediately, but I didn’t want to weird you out.”

You leaned forward slightly, lowering your voice. “Mike, you’ve seen me covered in filth and through sleep deprivation. I think we’re past worrying about being weird.”

He met your eyes. “Good, because I want to be weird tonight.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he said, with a light shrug of his shoulders. “Like an honest-weird. Not hiding fully behind jokes.”

He sounded so sincere, your chest ached.

“I’d like that,” you whispered out.

Dinner arrived, the steam curling up and between you two. You talked about everything but also nothing. It was so new to talk about the present with no more worries of supernatural danger knowing that you used to hope for times like these.

“You know,” Mike started. “I used to think if we ever got peace, it would feel bigger, larger.”

“But?” you prompted.

“But it’s like this,” he gestured vaguely, his hand motioning between the two of you and the ambience around. “It’s small, but peaceful.”

“I like it,” you smiled softly.

“Yeah, me too.”

Under the table, your knee brushed with his. You felt him still, waiting for your knee to move but when it didn’t, he relaxed.

His gaze drifted down to where you two were touching and then slowly to your face.

“You’re doing that thing again,” he murmured.

“What thing?”

“Making me feel like I’m standing on the edge of something.”

You tilted your head. “Maybe you are.”

Mike’s lips parted, like he wanted to say something but he didn’t. He just looked at you with those big, bright eyes. He didn’t know it but you saw his pupils dilate.

You shared bites of food, feeding each other without really thinking. Your fingers lingered, and your smiles turned slower.

“Do you think I could get us a bottle of wine?” you asked Mike, your voice low.

“What? How would you get it?” he questioned.

You dug through your purse and pulled out your older sister’s ID.

“Holy shit—wait it would totally work, you two look so similar.”

You decided it was worth a shot and asked the waiter for a bottle of red wine. Just to your luck, the waiter believed you and went to get your drink and two glasses. Along with the wine, Mike ordered a slice of chocolate cake.

When it arrived, the two of you split it. Mike scooped up a bite and held it out to you.

“Promise this won’t kill me?” you asked.

“If it does, at least you’ll go out in a classy way,” he laughed, as you ate from his spoon.

You picked up your wine glass, offering it up. “To not dying in the past 5 years.”

He smiled and clinked glasses with you. The two of you shared eye contact while taking sips. You two shared the bottle, helping each other when the other ran out to drink. Mike leaned back slightly in his chair, studying you in a way that had your heart beating faster than usual.

“You’re staring,” you pointed out.

He didn’t look away. “Am I not allowed to?”

You raised a brow. “Depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not you’re going to say why.”

He exhaled a soft laugh, rubbing his fingers along the stem of his wine glass. “You make it hard to concentrate.”

Your lips curved into a small smile. “That seems like a you problem.”

He shook his head, smiling to himself. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Instead of answering, Mike watched as you shifted your attention to the cherry sitting on top of the cake slice.

You delicately picked it up between your fingers. His eyes followed your movements, and didn’t lose focus when you slowly brought it to your lips. You slipped the cherry into your mouth, closing gently around it as you pulled it free from the stem. Your lips stained a faint deep red from the mixture of wine and cherry juice, slightly glossy in the candlelight.

Mike was breathless. His adam’s apple bobbed as he forcefully swallowed. The way he was looking at you showed zero signs of casualness. He was staring at you with this look of infatuation.

“Jesus…” he murmured to himself. He dragged his hands across his face, a soft laughter coming out of him. “You can’t just do that.”

“Do what? Eat dessert?” you swallowed, smiling.

He leaned forward, his forearms resting on the table "You know it wasn't just eating dessert."

Your pulse picked up. You softly whispered, "Mike."

"You have no idea how hard it is to sit here and pretend I'm being normal right now."

"Is that so?" you said with a hint of curiosity in your tone.

Mike nodded before signalling the waiter over. You watched as he paid the bill, a edge of olderness looming on him.

Outside the restaurant, the two of you walked along the sidewalks of Uptown Hawkins. The lamp posts illuminated the concrete path as you giggled at whatever Mike was saying.

"I'm just saying, with the way you're walking right now, you're definitely a lightweight," Mike said, using his hands to exaggerate his point.

"I am not," you argued back.

"Oh really? Prove it to me. Walk in a straight line towards me."

Mike sped up so he was standing in front of you. He was staring at you, waiting for you to meet him at the end of the street. His eyes were filled with pure bliss but that might also just be from the wine.

You tilted your head, biting your lip as you failed to walk in a straight line. Mike burst out laughing at your terrible attempt. You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms.

"Whatever, Wheeler."

Mike came back up to you, offering his arm out to you. "Let's get a cab home, shall we?"

You took his arm and the two of you waited for a taxi to come up. When one pulled up, Mike went over to the door and opened it up for you, letting you enter the car first.

Mike sat beside you in the backseat, it was small enough that your thighs brushed. His hand hovered near yours and he kept flexing his fingers as if he was deciding what to do.

You watched Hawkins blur past the window, you heart still racing from the night. Tonight was different, and you were sure he felt it too. You guys weren't kids anymore, at this wasn't just a stupid crush. You were head over heels for the boy you've known since you were 14, the one you went through the literal worse with, the one who grinned whenever something science related was explained.

The taxi slowed down at a red light, and something about the pause made everything click. You turned towards him fully, his head turning to look at you after feeling your movement.

"Mike," you said quietly.

He met your eyes, and that was all it took for the two of you to meet halfway.

The kiss was filled with pint-up tension, longing for one another. Mike's hand came up and cradled your jaw. You melted into him, your fingers curling into his shoulder.

The kiss deepened as the car started moving again. All you could taste was the mixture of wine and cherry as Mike kissed you with everything he had. You pulled back just enough to breathe, he followed you immediately capturing your lips into another kiss.

You let out a sound of surprise before you reciprocated. You felt Mike's hand trail to the strap of your dress and you gently pushed his hand away, "Not yet," you murmured against his lips. He smiled at your words.

The cab pulled up to your house and only then did Mike let you finally catch your breath. He pulled out enough bills for the ride and thanked the driver as he pulled you out of the car and towards your front door. You managed to squeak out a thank you before the driver drove away.

Inside your house, everything felt different. Except for Mike standing in your living room, his lips swollen and hair a mess.

"Oh my god, that driver must've felt so awkward."

"It's okay, I tipped him enough," Mike grinned.

There was a beat of silence before he cleared his throat. "Can I—"

You crossed the space between you two before he could finish. Your hands slip up his chest, over his shoulders, and into his hair. He froze for a half second before relaxing into you completely. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

He backed you up gently against the wall. When he kissed you again, his hands were steady at your waist, thumbs tracing patters. You could feel him smile against your mouth when you kissed him back harder. Your fingers tugged lightly at his hair, and he made a quiet sound in his throat that made you want more.

Eventually, the two of you make it into your room. Mike's mouth moved against yours with grown confidence. You feel him everywhere. You tilted your head, giving him better access, and he takes it by kissing you like he's starving. He pressed closer neither of you breaking the kiss.

Your calves hit the edge of your mattress and you fall onto the bed together in a mess of breath and heat. Mike finds himself between your knees. Your hands roamed everywhere on his body, every place feeling electric. He leaned in deeper, bracing one hand on the mattress for support while the other stays firm at your waist, keeping you close.

His mouth moved against yours, his forehead brushing yours for a half second. Then, he's back at your lips, breathing you in, trying to get you to keep making those soft sounds.

You tug him closer by his jacket before attempting to pull it off him. He shrugged it off before coming back to you. Your legs slipped around his hips without thinking and he groaned quietly into your mouth. His hand tightened at your side with lost composure.

Every time one of you pulled back, it was only to change the angle before diving right back in. Both your breaths were super uneven now. Your foreheads are pressed against one another, noses brushing, lips still faintly touching.

"I can't stop," he breathlessly admitted.

"Then don't," you whispered back.

He softly laughed before it turned into another kiss. You tug at his hair again, loving the feeling of his curls under your fingers. His thumb brushed along your jaw, your cheek, your temple, every touch he gave was intentional as if he was trying to memorize you.

He kept looking at you between kisses. His pupils blown like they were in the restaurant. Every time he looked at you, your stomach flipped with excitement.

"Mike," you breathe, barely a word. He kissed you again, his fingers finally reaching your dress strap. You moved slightly as he pulled it off you.

“No,” you lied, pretending to pay close attention to the vinyl spinning across from you, “Yes. What’s taking Murray so long?” 

Steve answered with a shrug, glancing around the booth the two of you were currently holed up in. “You’re just like Robin. So antsy.” 

“Well, Robin is currently having a fancy dinner with her girlfriend, while I'm stuck in a stuffy booth with my boyfriend waiting for a psychotic man to smuggle us in intel.” You huffed, body slumping in the chair. “We haven’t been on a date in ages.” 

Your boyfriend’s face softened, pushing himself off the shelf to stalk towards you. “Baby-“ 

“And I know it’s selfish of me to be saying that when the world is basically ending, but-ugh.” You cut yourself off with a groan, watching as he held his hand out for you to grab. You folded your hand in his, letting him spin you out of the chair, pulling your body taut to his. 

“It’s not selfish.” He swore, smiling as your hands wrapped around his neck. The gentle sound of Kim Carnes playing in the background. “Come on, dance with me. We can have our own date here.” 

You didn’t even have time to protest, Steve taking your body against his swaying messily to the music. 

“Okay, okay.” You giggled, doing your best to keep up with each time he tried to spin you in the tiny room. At one point, he kept you latched to his side, leaning over to push the volume control button up. A wide smirk on his face before he spun you around again. Both of your smiles were wide, lost in the joy that radiated off of each other. 

“She’s got Bette Davis eyes.” Steve sang off-key, pulling you back from a spin. His front pressed against your back, the two of you swaying along as the song ended. Both of you are out of breath, bodies wracked with giggles. A sweet reprieve of love, one that neither of you realized you needed. 

“I love you.” He whispered your name, his warm breath against your ear making your body shiver. His hands still gripping your jean-clad hips. 

“I love you. Missed this.” You whispered, feeling his lips trail down your ear, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the skin of your neck. This was something else the end of the world didn’t allocate time for; Steve and you rarely got a moment alone. You loved Robin, but if you weren’t so thankful, she and Vicki finally got together, so it meant you two had a night alone. 

His hands reached up your shirt, cupping your breasts through your bra roughly. You were so caught up in his hands, his lips sucking the skin of your neck, you didn’t even realize you were both still very much at the station. 

“Baby.” You whined, pushing pathetically against him. You didn’t want him to stop, but the two of you had to keep the music going. 

“Hmmm?” He hummed against your skin, one of his hands reaching down your stomach, cupping your clothed cunt. Your stomach turned with want, burning with desire. You repeated the pet name, warning him to stop.

“It’s just us in here. I’ll be fast.” He whispered, his hand popping open your jeans. Fingers pressing against the wet patch that had formed against your panties. He pushed his hips against your ass, his hardening cock pressing against you. You could feel your resolve crumbling with each gentle stroke of your clothed heat.

“You have to be fast.” 

“Fuck yes.” He sighed, speeding up the movement of his hands. You were ready to succumb to his ministrations before the silence of the music ending brought you back to reasonable thinking. 

“Wait, we can’t let the music go to dead air. They’ll panic.” You whimpered, trying to think as rationally as you could while Steve’s hands were all over you. The last thing you needed was the entire crawl squad busting in here while your pants were down, literally. 

“Fuck, fuck what’s the longest song we have?” He reluctantly took his hands off you, rushing to the crates in the back. All you could do was hum in thought, your mind running a thousand miles a minute while Steve threw around records, the bulge in his jeans prominent. If you weren’t so wound up, maybe you would’ve giggled at the sight. 

“Fuck uhh Iron Maiden three years ago? They had like a 10-minute song, right?” You offered up, his eyes shining. 

“God, baby, I’m gonna fuck the hell out of you.” He whistled, holding up the vinyl like a championship trophy. “13 minutes and 39 seconds to be exact.” 

Your cheeks flushed at his words, your underwear getting damper by the minute. “Do you think that’s enough time?” 

He scoffed, plopping himself down in the chair. “Look at you asking silly questions. Is 13 minutes enough time to make you come? I could do it in 5. Ridiculous.” He mumbled the last part under his breath, setting the vinyl up quickly. 

You rolled your eyes, still unbelieving that you agreed to this. He shushed you while the on-air light flickered on, the neon lights buzzing. 

“Alright, Hawkins,” Steve’s radio voice echoed through the microphone. “We are setting sail. This next one is on the longer side, but trust me. It’s gonna be worth every single second.” His eyes were on you, while you made a show of pulling the rough fabric of your pants down your hips. 

“Iron Maiden, Rime of the Ancient Mariner, hold on to your sea legs!” And he put the needle down, the on-air light flickering off. The guitar riffs bleeding through his headphones matched the thump of your heart. 

“Gotta make every second count.” You smiled, keeping your shirt on for the sake of emergencies. Steve wasted no time in pulling you to him, your lips meeting with a feverish passion. His tongue explored your mouth while his hands found your hips again. His fingers dancing along your waistline, dipping inside your panties. He swallowed your shocked gasps, his fingertips sinking into your soaked cunt at last. “Oh, baby. You really needed this.” 

All you could do was nod, your head feeling heavy as you leaned against him. He rubbed lazy circles around your clit before he slid two fingers inside you with little resistance. “S-steve.” You stuttered out, keeping an eye on the vinyl grooves. 

“Shhhhh. Don’t focus on that. Gotta get you ready.” He cooed, coaxing more beautiful moans from your lips. Stretching you out as much as he could, given the circumstances. His cock was aching in his jeans, his other hand abandoned your back, fumbling with his zipper. His jeans fell to his knees, his cock sitting large and pretty in his tighty whities you always teased him about. 

Your cunt was clenching around his fingers, desperately needing him. When his fingers pulled out tears almost sprang to your eyes, the emptiness made your head spin. “Turn round, baby.” His saccharine voice spoke. You listened, elbows finding the table, leaning against the control panel. His fingers hooked themselves in your underwear, pulling them to the floor. 

A strangled moan escaped his lips, “Fuck I wish I had time to taste you.” 

“Steve.” You were dripping for him, clenching around nothing while he pulled his cock out. He spat in his hand, rubbing the spit against your entrance. Not like you needed it, but the sensation had your eyes rolling into the back of your head regardless. 

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you. Good girl, just like that, take this cock.” The moment his cock slid in between your lips, you were a goner, your cunt sucking his tip in greedily. With every inch he pushed in, you suckled around him, the sound already obscene. 

When his hips met yours, he let out a pornographic moan. One that you’d keep in your memory for late nights alone. “So fucking tight. Basically squeezing me to death,” He breathed out, “I’m not going nowhere, baby.” He pulled his cock out halfway, admiring his length dripping in your wetness, before slamming back in. Keeping up a steady pace, hitting the deepest spots inside your cunt from this angle. 

“Feel so s’good. Fuck I needed this.” You whimpered out, the faint reflection of the two of you in the glass only spurring you on more. With one hand on your hip, the other cupped the back of your neck, just enough pressure to keep you still. One thing about Steve Harrington was that he knew how to fuck. He knew your body like the back of his hand, and he played it to his advantage every time. 

“I know you did. Letting me fuck you in here. Where anyone could walk in.” He growled, watching your ass ripple with each thrust. You clenched around him at his words, only making a deep laugh escape his chest. 

“Oh, you like that?” He mocked, your head nodding almost instantly. You couldn’t think, you couldn’t breathe. All you could feel was Steve’s cock splitting you apart. 

“Yeah, of course you do, my dirty little slut.” A harsh slap on your ass punctuated his words. This wasn’t making love; this was dirty. A primal fuck that the two of you needed so desperately. 

He wasn’t taking your moans for an answer, continuing as his dirty mind ran rampant with each squelch of your cunt around him. “Say it. Say it or I stop.” 

You could barely hold yourself up with your elbows, desperately trying to make sure you didn’t hit any buttons. “I’m your dirty little slut. Please don’t stop. Please.” 

Tears were pricking your eyes at how fast and deep his movements were, the sound of skin hitting skin drowning out the still-spinning Iron Maiden song in the background. “Not gonna stop. Not until you’re cumming around my cock.” 

A particularly deep thrust hit a spot that had your legs shaking, your body almost falling into the control board. Only stopped by Steve’s arm pulling you up to his chest, the position making him deeper inside you if that was even possible. 

“You don’t want all of Hawkins hearing you cum around me, do you?” He laughed, pressing sloppy kisses to your shoulder. “Or do you?” 

All you could do was nod mindlessly, your high approaching like a freight train. “I bet you’d love that, huh? Do you want me to turn the mic on? Let everyone hear how good I fuck you?” 

All you could do was wail, “Steve, Steve, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah, you are.” He grunted, his hand reaching down to rub lazy circles on your swollen clit. “Should we let everyone hear how I make this pussy cream? How only I can make you feel this good?” 

That was all it took for you to fall pliant in his arms, your cunt spasming around him. Your vision went dark, legs shaking as the euphoria washed over every nerve in your body. 

When you came to Steve’s hips were stuttering, his own high approaching. He was whispering small praises into your ears, hands holding your body close to his. “That’s my girl. Did so well for me. Gonna make me come, huh? Love you.” 

“Want it so bad.” You sobbed, your nails digging into his forearms while he stilled, cock twitching, his release deep inside you. Steve’s head shoved deep into the crook of your neck, grunting your name over and over. 

The booth was hot, the air humid and sticky with sex. The vinyl crackling next to you two, the song almost over. 

“And you thought 13 minutes wasn’t enough.” Steve laughed, sweat dripping off his brow and onto your own slicked skin. The two of you were a mess. The booth's glass is foggy at the bottom. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your head before slipping his length out of you, hissing at the friction. His cum dribbled out of you, dripping down your inner thighs, making his over-sensitive cock twitch. “Stop ogling me and get me a towel.” You whined, snapping him out of his boyish haze. 

He rifled through your bag using a wet wipe to clean you up, pulling your underwear and pants up for you while you were on shaky legs. You left your pants unbuttoned, content to plop down in the chair. Watching as Steve fumbled around for his own pants. A record scratch brought you out of your own ogling, switching over to another song. Unbothered with an intro this time. 

“I’ll get us some water. Are you okay? I wasn’t too rough, was I?” Steve was still out of breath, leaning down to press soft kisses to your lips. You shook your head, a wicked grin on your lips.

“Not at all, baby. Though I didn’t know you were so into the idea of Hawkins hearing you split me open.” 

His cheeks flushed, opening the door to the booth. “Shut up. You loved it.” 

Your giggles wafted through the building as he walked into the kitchenette to retrieve cold water for the two of you. The moment Steve tossed the chilled bottle to you, you were chugging it down. 

“I love you, sweet girl.” He smiled, smoothing down your frizzy hair for you. “Maybe if we get a break from sudden death, I’ll take you to a nice dinner. How’s that?” 

Nodding, you leaned into his touch, kissing his hand. “Sounds like a plan, Harrington.” 

Your eyes were staring into his; there was no one else you’d rather face death with than him. These last few years have brought the two of you closer with every obstacle. 

“Yoo hoo!” A loud voice yelled, the front door of the station banging open with a thud. The two of you jumped up, both still disheveled. “I’ve been waiting outside for like five minutes.” Murray was standing there, eyes already narrowing in on you two. If it wasn’t your appearance, or the sheer smell alone, then your completely unbuttoned pants would have given light to what the two of you had been doing while he waited outside. 

Steve was about to speak, getting cut off by Murray’s pointed laugh. “Oh my god. You disgusting kids.” He spoke, nothing but humor in his words. “Meet me outside in a few, and I'll hand over everything. Wash your hands.” He pointed at Steve while you turned around to button your pants back up. Steve was red in the face, holding his hands out like they were poisoned. 

“He has a point.” You broke the awkward silence that had been hanging since the door closed. 

"Steve, baby, you do realise I work at the movie theatres?" you asked, boxing up popcorn for someone who had brought tickets.

"Yeah, and I work at family videos, still wanna see you."

You had to admit, with the both of you in between jobs and babysitting gigs you somehow always got roped into it had been hard to get alone time together. But date night at the place you worked wasn't your idea of magic.

But Steve had turned up, his family video vest still hanging on only half an hour or something after his shift because he wanted to spend a night with you.

It was also humanly impossible to say no to Steve. "Fine. Weekend at Bernie's is on tonight at seven and that's one I haven't actually seen yet."

"Perfect," he grinned. "I'll pick you up when you're done here, drop you off at yours so you can get ready then I'll pick you up for six-thirty."

"Steve, that's too much driving, I can get the bus back."

"The bus?" he gasped dramatically. "I'd never have my girl on a bus." Steve pushed himself over the counter, pecking your sweet and salty lips from the popcorn you swiped between customers.

So at seven on the dot the two of you were walking through the cinema. The perks of working there was the tickets and treats you got on discount that Steve still insisted on paying for. He had Reeses and Boppers while you had the largest box of popcorn that Steve wasn't even sure was an option for regular customers.

You settled into your seats in the rather packed cinema and Steve threw an arm around you as the previews started.

"See, this is nice," he uttered to you. "Just you and me, date night."

Even if this was a room you swept more than fives times a day even you could admit, it all felt different with Steve.

You laid your head back on his arm. "Yeah."

Steve admire you. "I love you."

His lips were as soft as always as they kissed you, not daring to go any further while sitting in the middle of the cinema. If it was the back row, on the other hand-

"Shit, shit, I can't see,"

"Dustin, just move,"

"I am, geez, I just paid for this popcorn I am not spilling it,"

"You're walking like a grandma,"

"Grandma Henderson is spry for her age, asshole!"

Steve's nose brushed yours as he pulled back, dread marking his features. "It can't be."

Your heart sank. "No."

"Holy shit, hey guys!" said Dustin Henderson.

There was a chorus of surprise from them all: Dustin, Lucas, Max and Will. They piled in, pushing and shoving each other on the row below you.

"Huh, what are the chances?" Dustin grinned.

Steve laughed through clenched teeth. "Ha ha, tell me about it."

Lucas frowned at you. "Hey, I thought you worked here."

"I do."

"So don't you see movies on shift? You know, for free?"

"Woah, genius, I hadn't thought about that."

Max rolled her eyes, tugging on Lucas's arm. "They're on a date, leave them alone."

"Oh- oh!" said Dustin in loud exclamation. He apologised to those around him. "Sorry, sorry. We'll just take our seats, don't worry, you two carry on, you won't even know we're here."

Steve and you were not convinced even before they sat down. They sat down right on front of the two of you, the curls of Dustin bouncing as he tried to situate himself with his large soda and even larger popcorn.

Lucas and Max were arguing over who sat where while Will took the seat on the end, quietly munching on his popcorn and watching the preview intently.

"He's my favourite kid," said Steve to you.

Dustin's head turned back. "Sorry, what were you saying?"

Steve pushed his head around. "I wasn't talking to you."

"Oh right, yeah," Dustin apologised. "Not even here, we're not even here."

The movie started and they seemed on their best behaviour for all of five minuets. It was really Steve that started it, un-able to stop himself when he saw Lucas yawn and dramatically stretch out his arms until one of the laid across Max's shoulders. He couldn't not lean in to tell you that was his move.

"It's a classic," he whispered to you. "I've taught all of them that but Lucas executes it flawlessly."

Lucas looked back to the two of you and Steve threw a very proud thumbs up.

The quiet of the cinema room was interrupted when Will opened a large pack of chips. A collective 'shh' came from every party in the room.

Will lit up in red. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Hey, Will," Dustin tried to call as quiet as possible which for Dustin was not quiet enough. Another round of 'shh' started. "Shh yourselves."

"Dustin," you lectured.

"What? I just want some chips!"

Will took some before passing along the bag, letting Lucas take a generous hand full before handing it over to Dustin. The crinkle of the bag as he dove in was louder than the movie.

Dustin turned around to the two of you. "Any for yourselves?"

"No," said Steve. "Turn around."

"Alright, alright, was just asking!"

The rest of the movie went more like that. A passing of snacks and whispers that led to glares from everyone trying to watch the film. Every time you and Steve tried to settle in with each other, his arm around your shoulder or you leaning into his side, Dustin would turn to look at the both of you, seeing if you guys were laughing at the right times or Lucas poking you in the knee to have some popcorn.

It turned into just a regular baby-sitting gig.

When the movie finished everyone seemed happy to be up from their seats.

The four were ahead of you and Steve, talking about their best parts and throwing the last of their snacks away.

"Can't escape them for two hours, huh?" said Steve, fingers entwining with yours as he swung your arms back and forth.

"No, I guess not."

"Hey," he tugged at your arm, stopping you. "I'm sorry about them, we'll get a quiet night, I promise. How about my place, Friday? My parents won't be home."

You grinned. "I guess it's a date."

Steve's lips curled up as he kissed you, hand sliding to the back of your neck to keep you there, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip practically begging for enterance-

"Ew, gross!" Will complained.

"Steve, c'mon!"

Max huffed. "Leave them alone!"

"Steve, can give us a lift home!"

Steve pulled away, his hand curling in on itself on the back of your neck but his thumb was still loose to sooth you. "Shitheads-"

You couldn't help but chuckle. For all the complaining he might give you knew Steve loved those kids like they were his own. Just as you did. You couldn't really be angry at them if you tried. "Take them home, I'll go see Stacy, she'll be finishing up. I'll hitch a ride with her."

"What? No, no, no what kind of boyfriend would I be? Those little a-holes can bike home," he said, hands running up and down your arms.

"Steve," you said. "You'll be a great boyfriend- and even better one- if you take them home. Please, for me." It never did sit right with you that the kids were fine biking home in the dark. What with all the monsters you've already faced.

Steve couldn't say no to you so he decided he wouldn't even try. "Okay, fine but take this-"

The kids awed and cooed as they watched Steve peel of his jacket and drape it over your shoulders.

You rolled your eyes. "Steve-"

"The walk to the car will be cold." He draw you in, pulling at his jacket to do so to kiss your popcorn lips.

"Steve!" Dustin yelled.

"I'm gonna kill him, I swear," your boyfriend mumbled against your lips. He pecked them once and fetched the keys from his pocket before pulling it closer around you. "Call me when you get home, I love you!" he called, trotting back to the kids.

"I love you!" you called after him.

Max turned back, winking. "Yeah, love you too!"

You held your middle finger up to her, with affection.

Lucas clasped his hands over his chest as Steve pushed the kids ahead. "Oh Steve, I love you so much, mwah mwah-"

Dustin and Will laughed, the former making obscene kissing noises while rubbing his arms up and down himself.

"Cut it out!" Steve whacked him on the back of the head.

Really, after all this time, should the kids have been surprised at how the two of you were?

The next Friday came around with sweltering heat. Steve had turned on all the fans he could in his house but he had something better.

A swimming pool.

You'd stripped to your bikini almost immediately, sliding into the water that instantly cooled your body while Steve was upstairs trying to find his trunks and if you knew him getting distracted by his hair in the mirror for an extra ten minutes.

You swam a lap or two before relaxing on the side, arms slung out and head tilted back, letting the droplets of water slide down your neck. The pool stilled, the sun beamed-

"Cannonball!"

Before you could react Steve bombed into the pool splashing you in the process and sending shock waves through the water.

"Steve!"

He popped back up to the surface, shaking his hair out like a dog and wiping down his face. "Oh, now that feels good!"

You laughed. "You're ridiculous."

Steve found you once all the water was out of his eyes, heading your way. "You're beautiful," he said, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in. "So beautiful, sexy-"

"Steve-" he kissed along your shoulder, playfully nipping at the skin.

"-mine."

You hummed when he kissed you eagerly, as if he hadn't greeted you the same way when you walked through the door. It had been a hassle enough to get to the pool without Steve un-dressing you then and there.

You wrapped your arms around his waist as Steve's hands cupped your backside, fingers digging into the flesh as if there were no bikini bottoms there. The two of you moved back through the water until you gently hit the wall of the pool.

You gasped at the feel of the tile.

Steve broke away at once. "You okay, baby?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine." Your legs squeezed around him, bringing him in until his lips were on yours again, starving.

His hands sort out your back, travelling the expanse and toying with the straps of your bikini top-

When the sound of his backdoor closing alerted you both, followed by the sound of six voices struggling.

"I told you Steve would have ice, you didn't need to bring a bag!"

"Well shit Mike, it's for the cooler."

"Maybe Steve's got some beer for us?"

"He has nice wine," said Max. "y/n told me he has nice wine."

The two of you were still practically entwined at the edge of the pool.

"Please tell me I'm not gonna turn and see what I think I'm gonna see," said Steve, pulling away enough so you could hear him.

The kids, that being all of them, waved at the two of you when Steve turned to look.

Dustin was already throwing an inflatable bed thing into the pool while Max, El and Mike were setting down bags on the lounge chairs Steve had, Mike helping El out with lying out her towel.

"Lucas?" Max called over, clearly wondering if he was gonna make sure she was comfortable.

Lucas was already filling up water balloons with Will's help.

It was as if they hadn't even realised you and Steve were there... at his pool.

"Hey!" he yelled. "What the hell are you doing?"

Dustin grinned. "Hey Steve!"

The rest of them copied his grin at the two of you, waving and greeting you.

Stunned, you held your hand up in a wave.

"I repeat- what are you doing here?" Steve asked.

"You gave us a key!" said Dustin.

"Yeah, for emergencies!"

"This was an emergency!"

"What?" you asked, immediately jumping into action. You pushed yourself out the water, grabbing a towel that wasn't too far and started to dry yourself off. They were all too calm in the face of an 'emergency' "What emergency? Is everything ok?"

"No," said Lucas.

"Well what, what is it?"

"None of us have pools in our back yards."

You deflated.

"Are you serious?" asked Steve, sending a splash of water over to Lucas and Will.

"Hey."

"You can't just waltz in here and make yourselves at home!" argued Steve, reaching out to you to try and pull you back in the pool as you got to your feet.

"It's hot!" said Dustin.

"So hot," added Mike.

"And we needed to cool down!" said Max.

"We were almost dying," said El, "it was really sad."

You smirked to yourself, knowing that if Max and El pulled out the pouted lips and puppy dog eyes, he was done for. The girls were his weakness.

"Yeah... well..." Steve wasn't even trying to argue when he looked up at you.

The red bikini that framed your curves perfectly, the little droplets of water that slid down your body. He tracked each one doing down, rolling down your sternum and further down your legs-

"Steve!" yelled Dustin.

"Wh-what?" he reluctantly forced his gaze away from you to look at him.

Dustin gestured to the floaty that was drifting from him. "Hold it steady!"

"My god," he grumbled.

You had your towel, patting yourself down and sitting with Max and El as Mike went to join Lucas and Will's efforts. You sat with them in the shade.

"Nice suit," said Max. "Pretty sure Steve's eyes were about to jump out his sockets."

"Oh, ha ha," you rolled your eyes. "You guys got swim suits?"

El nodded. "We went shopping."

"Show me!"

Steve was, once again distracted by you. Sure, it was annoying not getting a spare second alone with you. Really he should have pulled you into his room and made it quick before getting in the pool. But the kids meant best... he hoped and the way you were with them, especially Max and El who deserved kindness more than most, warmed his heart.

He could just picture you with the children he hoped to have with you one day. The care that you had, the love. And of course the way of making babies was not lost on him-

"Okay, okay," said Dustin as he stood at the edge of the pool, clearly thinking of the best ways to get onto the float. "Hold it steady... hold it steady..."

"I'm holding- I'm holding it steady!" said Steve.

"Steady!" yelled Dustin.

Steve held it for him but at the last second- when he realised Dustin was going to jump on it- he moved it, sending Dustin crashing into the pool.

The group of them were left laughing as he broke through the water, paddling around. 'Shit! Shit!'

After that you and Steve got busy. It was summer break, so people wanted films all the time and ran Steve off his feet, his days dragging. By the time he picked you up from your shift (which he insisted on) he could sneak a kiss before dropping you off, or sometimes you'd stay with him but the two of you were always too tired for anything. A quiet meal, watch a show then go to bed to do it all again.

Any small moment was special, Steve just wished they'd last.

One day he was at work, fixing up messy shelves and updating the posters at the windows when the door opened.

"Hey Steve!" El and Max called, rushing to two different sections.

El to romance and comedy.

Max to action but Steve knew she'd watch any romance El wanted.

He smiled and was ready to greet them when you practically fell through the door next, arms overflowing with bags.

"Hey!" you smiled, breathless.

"Hey, hey," Steve was in front of you at once, kissing your cheeks and looking down at all the bags. "What's this? You finally moving in with me?"

"Girls day."

Girls day had ran you dry, clearly. You were leaning on the door, feet aching.

"Shopping, snacks and now a film," you said. "And I wanted to see you."

Steve grinned. "Well isn't that sweet." He kissed you deep and slow, dragging the moment out to last.

"Oh gag me!" Robin called from behind the counter. "Porno's are over there, people!"

El peeked up from a shelf. "What's a por-no?"

Max went red in the face, laughing wildly as she turned to you and Steve. "Yeah guys, what's a porno?"

Steve blushed and stuttered.

"Nothing, El, hurry up and get a movie, we need to catch the bus back."

Steve turned back to you. "Bus?"

"Not again," you rolled your eyes.

Steve didn't have an aversion to the bus. He had an aversion of you getting a bus when he could've been using that time to spend a few extra precious minutes with you. "No, no, tell you what, we're almost done here-"

"No we're not!" said Robin.

"Well, we'll close up and I can take you all back and we can all enjoy girls night, how about that?" he asked, inviting himself and Robin along.

Your cheeks ached with the smile Steve brough to you.

Max thought less so. "No, no, no, this is a girl's night, Steve. No boys allowed."

"Yeah, no boys," Said El, joining her friends side.

"Guys c'mon, it's Steve," you argued.

"I couldn't bring Mike," said El.

Steve cringed. "Mike's Mike."

El's brows furrowed in thought. "Mike is... Mike?"

You turned to Max, batting your lashes. "Please..."

Max didn't want to be the 'bad cop' but she also wanted a girls night. And perhaps she was worried, after all, besides Steve she didn't have that much of a positive out look on 'man'.

Lucas wasn't there yet.

Steve jutted out his bottom lip.

Max crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.

Steve knew Max, knew her well. It had come with the years of looking out for each of them. "Okay, how about I get us all a tub of each others favourites ice cream? Vanilla and sprinkles for El, Mint choc-ship for Robbin and strawberry for you?"

It worked a treat, you could practically see Max's body melting at the suggestion.

"Fine," she said, still feigning her annoyance. "But you don't get to pick the movie!" she said, rushing off.

Steve scoffed. "Please, I work with movies," he leant down to your ear. "I cannot watch pretty in pink again, please."

You shrugged as Steve's hands ghosted yours. "Tough luck, babe. That's what happens when you invite yourself to girls night."

He shrugged. "Just spend time with my girl, and hey, if you can't beat them, join 'em." His eyes wondered down to your lips before he kissed you again, slower.

"Earth to Dingus's!" called Robin. "You're blocking the door from actual customers!"

The two of you shuffled away from the door, abashed and apologising as a customer awkwardly made their way in.

"Okay, we've chosen," said Max as El signed out her movie with Robin. "So let's go!"

El joined Max's side after sliding the tape into one of your bags, leaving you stumbling with the bags.

Steve was conflicted. If he were with you he would have taken the bags from you in an instant but clearly you were carrying them for the girls so they would be free.

Max's eyes lit up in mischief. "Oh, if only you had a car, y/n. Then we wouldn't have to walk so far," she pouted.

"With such heavy bags," El added, eyes downcast.

You gave the girls a look but it wasn't enough to stop them.

Steve's eyes rolled and he dug into his pockets before you could tell him no. They had him wrapped around their finger. Never mind El could move things with her mind, she get Steve to do just about anything she wanted. Steve looked at you. "Take my car-"

"Thanks!" Max plucked the keys from him instantly, rushing out with El.

Steve followed her, poking his head out the store. "You're not driving!"

You chuckled and stood tall to peck Steve's cheek. "They have you whipped."

His eyes rolled, mocking you. "Drive safe."

And though Steve wished you could have stayed, or he could have gone with you, at least he'd wormed his way into 'girls night'.

Finally, Steve received the invite he was waiting for. Your family out of town, your house all alone... just you and him.

It wasn't like he'd never been alone in your home with you but it had certainly been so long. Your house was warmer than his, sign that a family might love you whereas his parents didn't know he was in another dimension half the time.

He had a little night bag in the back of the car for the weekend you would have together. Your favourite sweater of his, along with sweatpants and an extra pair of his clothes for you. Snacks, a film and.... a box of condoms. Steve had big plans.

He sped away from work, not even caring if he hadn't clocked out right and trusting Robin would correct it or berate him for it- either way it could wait. He drove quick through Hawkins but took roads that wouldn't take him by Lucas's house in case he got roped in giving Lucas or Erica a ride. He avoided town in case Mike and El had gone on a date and spotted him. At one point he saw a kid with curls on a bike and he swerved, trying to duck in case it was Dustin.

They were great kids. But the only thing greater than them was getting time alone with you.

Finally, after an extra half an hour de-tour of Hawkins he parked up in front of your house, checking over his shoulder in case one of them popped up.

Steve rattled his knuckles on the door.

It took a moment but you swung it open, breathless. "Hey!"

"Hey," Steve stepped in, hands on your shoulders and pecking your cheek. "I'm sorry I'm late, I took the long way, I didn't want to risk the kids-"

"They're here," you said.

Steve frowned. Was your family back? Was their a maintenance guy around. "What? Who's here?"

"The kids."

At your word there was a crash from your kitchen.

Your head whipped around. "Shit- shit-shit- no, no, no!"

Steve was hot on your heels.

Lucas and Dustin stood over a pie that now laid in pieces along with the dish it was in.

"Oh, come on!" Steve deflated against the wall with all his hopes and dreams.

"Sorry," said Lucas.

"It's fine," you sighed, reacting quickly when Dustin went to clean it. "Careful, you'll cut your hands!"

Steve surveyed the area. Max and Mike were having an argument about... well, with them it could have been anything. On the sofa Will was watching the film with El who painted her nails on the coffee table. "Are you serious right now?"

Dustin and Lucas went back to searching through your cupboards, assuming it's for a snack.

Steve knelt next to you, helping you clean the shards and crumbs up. "How did this happen?"

"I don't know," you whispered. "I knew El was coming around for some nail polish but I didn't think she'd bring Max and then Lucas followed her and he radioed Mike who was with Dustin and Will-"

"And you answered the door every time?"

"It was that or they break a window climbing in!"

"Y/n!" Max called.

Your head sagged but you quickly perked up when Max and Mike stood in front of you.

"Can you please tell Mike that Jean Grey is obviously more powerful than the Scarlet Witch!"

Mike spluttered. "What? Wanda Maximoff is literally a Nexus being and can warp the minds and reality around. She created children with nothing but her mind-"

"Jean Grey has the Phoenix force!"

"Like that means shit!"

Their argument started up again and Steve pulled you up, tugging you back into the corridor while everyone was distracted in their own chaos.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," you rambled at once. "I wanted it to just be us, I did, but then El started to paint her nails and Max starting opening up about how hard things have been and I've been trying to get her to open up and then Lucas appeared and you know things have been tough between them and then the others came and I couldn't throw them out without kicking them all and they're good kids and-"

Steve grasped your cheeks and kissed you. Only partly to stop your rambling, and the other because he'd been wanting to kiss you all day. He let himself indulge a moment too long before pulling away. "It's fine. We babysit tonight and then tomorrow, we're not leaving your bed, deal?"

You licked your lips of the taste of him and smiled. "Deal."

Steve pressed a kiss to your forehead as the stairs creaked.

"Oh hey Steve," greeted Robin as she casually walked down the stairs as if he hadn't left her at Family Video not long ago. "I didn't know you were coming tonight too." She pat his back and moved past him.

Steve wondered if Jonathon and Nancy were lurking somewhere in the garden. It seemed half of Hawkins knew you had the place to yourself.

"Oh fuck, Steve!"

"Yeah, yeah baby, you like that?"

Steve had made sure of his promise.

The night ended at midnight exact when Steve realised you had fallen asleep on the sofa. He draped a blanket over you and quietly but urgently shoved all the kids away, putting them on their bikes or cars (their parents collecting them) and sending them on their way.

Steve didn't want to wake you so he carried you upstairs and fell asleep with you.

The next morning you were up early to make breakfast, dressed only in one of Steve's flannels and panties. Just to drive him mad. You were half way through pancakes when Steve's arms wrapped around your middle and all but threw you on the sofa, flattening you there.

That's how you both ended up naked on your parents sofa, you in his lap, his cock stretching inside of you and moans bouncing off the walls.

You mewl into his shoulder, nails digging into his shoulders.

Steve rocked his hips into yours as you continuously grinded down on him. "Wanted you so long, baby, was- was going mad."

"I know, I know!" You groaned, pulling back and holding his face in your hands, laying your head against him.

The two of you bodies sweat together, the cushions on the sofa already fallen off the floor and your clothes thrown anywhere other than around you.

Steve meant what he said. He kissed you, all tongue and teeth, desperate to get as deep inside of you as possible and then some more.

You pulled back, Steve's lips dragging down your neck, collecting your sweat and pulse. "Ah, St-Steve!"

His hand held the small of your back, pushing you deeper into him leaving you biting down on your lip to stop screaming out. "You feel me there, huh? Feel me deep?" he all but whined.

You nodded. Your back arched, cunt squeezing him harder as you leant back, hand on his thigh to steady yourself. "Steve- Steve- I'm gonna-"

There was a sudden pounding at the door.

Your whined but not in the way Steve wanted as he felt your climax escaping him.

"No, no, no baby, focus," he cupped your chin, forcing your gaze on him. "Focus on me baby, let them knock."

You both had already guessed who it was.

Steve's eyes screwed shut as he rutted into you quick but the knocking was just as insistent.

"Steve! Y/N, we know you're in there!" Dustin called.

Steve shook his head, rocking you against him. "They-they don't- arg-"

"Steve! We can see your car outside!" added Lucas.

You sat up on him, a hand on the back of the sofa and another on Steve's shoulder. "Steve-"

You both knew you'd never have the day to yourself if they were there, knocking at the door every time you were going to finish.

Steve looked at the door and back to you.

"Maybe there's a spare key?" suggested Will.

"That's it!" Gently Steve helped you off him and almost regretted it at once at the sound of your small whine and the sight of his hard cock leaking and everything coming out of you-

Quickly, Steve grabbed a blanket and tied it around his waist, brushing his hair back as you picked up another discarded on the floor to cover yourself.

He kicked his jogging bottoms out the way as he went and swung open the door, catching the gang of them scrambling for a spare key under the flower pots.

Dustin noticed the hair on his chest and the sweat first, chuckling. "Damn, Steve, all that hair got you stressing-" he realised half way through just why he was sweating and standing there in only a blanket.

"No!" he said. "You cannot have either of us today!"

Will had the decency to blush and look away, Max's jaw was on the floor at what they'd clearly interrupted.

"We just want-" Mike tried.

"No! Nop! None! Zero! We are closed today!"

"Well, actually you seem pretty open-"

"You want to finish that sentence, Sinclair?" Said Steve. "All I want is a day alone, of peace with my girlfriend, and yes that means doing adult things."

El frowned. "Adult?"

Sometimes he forget El didn't know all the ins and outs of the world.

And sadly they'd caught Steve on the precipice of bursting (literally).

"Sex! Yes, that is what happy and loving couples do, that is what we have been trying to do but we keep getting interrupted! So, no, you cannot come in and no you cannot go to my house to eat snacks or go in the pool cause guess what? We're gonna do it there to!" he actually had no plans for that but he just might. "So please, please just move along and let us get to it!"

Lucas chuckled.

Dustin cleared his throat, his voice stuck in a higher pitch. "Okay. We'll er... we'll just... move on."

"Yes, thank you!" Steve waited at the door, waving them down and watching them go all the way down the street. Every time one of them looked back, he waved. He saw El leaning into Mike and his ears going red but he decided he'd let Mike deal with that one.

When he was sure they'd got far enough, Steve slammed the door, locked it and put a chain on for good measure.

You were laughing, face hidden in the blanket when he returned, standing over you with his hands on his hips. "I cannot believe you just did that."

“My turn,” He yelled, everyone, preparing yet another shot. “Never have I ever had a one-night stand.” 

“I don’t think you guys are playing this game fairly by targeting us.” You grumbled, all of the older kids slamming the shots back. You winced as the tequila burned your throat, watching Steve gag around the lime slice.

“To think, we finally let you drink with us, and this is how it is.” He grumbled, his shoulder brushing yours. Steve Harrington had been your best friend since middle school. One of the few surviving friends of his ‘King Steve’ era at Hawkins High. You survived long-distance friendship and the turmoils of life. Now here you were, sitting in his living room during the summer. Just like you were a teenager again. 

“There were no rules about what we could say. You should’ve clarified.” Mike snorted, sticking his tongue out at his sister. 

All she did was snarl back, “Okay. Never have I ever been caught hiding porn magazines under my bed.” 

That got a howl of laughter to echo around the room, the boy hesitantly chugging back the shot. The two siblings now in a stand-off of emotional warfare. 

“Never have I ever slept with Jonathan Byers.” Mike bit back. 

“Whoa!” Her ex-boyfriend and current situationship yelled, not sure why he got dragged into this. 

Another drink. “Never have I ever been a virgin at 19.” She bit back. 

“I told you that in confidence!” He cried out, not even taking the full shot. Too busy trying not to throw it up on Steve’s rug. 

“Never have I ever slept with Steve Harrington.” Mike howled.

“Oh my god, you are so ridiculous,” Nancy yelled, not even bothering to fill the glass. Content on taking a swig directly from the bottle. 

Maybe if the alcohol wasn’t already pumping in your veins, you wouldn’t have done it on instinct, but you tilted your own head back. Another shot going down, leaving a burning feeling in your chest, hand rubbing your clavicle to ease the ache. And maybe you could’ve gotten away with it, had everyone not been staring at Steve, awaiting his protests for Mike’s comment. 

“Wait,” Dustin shifted in his seat, now all eyes on you. “Did you just take a shot, Y/n?”

Steve was oblivious, still side-eyeing Mike for his unnecessary jabs at his sister. 

You froze, fingers still gripping the empty shot glass. Eyes wide as jaws began to fall to the floor, Robin covering her face with her hands. 

“Uh..” You choked out, “Yeah.” 

A chorus of yells broke out, Steve’s body tensing beside yours. 

“Oh my god.” Max cackled, her and Lucas falling into each other. 

“Dude, I told you so!” Lucas said back. 

“I knew you guys had been friends for too long not to have done something,” Dustin yelled, punching Will in the arms out of excitement. Ignoring his whines. 

“Jesus Christ, don’t say that,” Will begged, reading the room unlike his tispy friend. 

“This is insane.” Robin’s hands were gliding down her face, as her world had shifted on its axis. Unaware of how she didn’t know this had happened between her two best friends. It wasn’t something you and Steve talked about often, or really ever. 

“Wait, really?” Nancy’s eyes were wide, shooting daggers at the two of you. 

Suddenly, the room was too crowded, your shirt clinging uncomfortably to your skin. All eyes were now on you, and you were looking everywhere but at Steve. 

“Wait, when did this happen?” Jonathan asked, “Are you guys like, together now?” 

Too quickly, the two of you began denying it, scoffing out in unison no’s. The silence was deafening after, scoffs of disbelief and looks of confusion. 

You let Steve speak, unable to form any coherent thoughts. “It was a long time ago.” He had settled on, hoping that was going to ease the nosiness. Which, of course, it did not. 

“You told me you never had feelings for Steve,” Nancy said, an accusatory glance shot your way. 

“And I never did. It was purely physical.” You rambled, “It was way after you guys got together, swear. God, Steve and I are just friends.” 

“Just friends normally don’t have sex.” Robin pointed out, “I mean, we’ve never had sex.” 

“Robin, did you wanna have sex with me?” You scoffed, her face turning into one of disgust. 

“Wait, so this happened the summer after you graduated?” Max pointed out, doing calculations in her head. 

Steve’s heart was pounding out of his chest, his eyes glancing at your frame every few seconds. Watching your eyes dart anywhere but his. He was silently pleading for you to look at him, just one glance. 

“Yup.” You smiled awkwardly, avoiding his gaze like the plague. “Now who’s next?” Doing your best to push the game forward, or end it entirely. 

“Yeah, never have I ever had sex with Y/n.” Lucas laughed, making Max push him backwards off the couch. 

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” Steve winced, not even bothering to take another drink. Everyone was well past their limit anyway to continue drinking like fish. “You guys are cut off.” 

“No, please-” 

Steve tried to wrestle the bottles out of Dustin’s hands. The two of them ended up in a heap on the floor, playful giggles erasing the awkwardness air out of the room. 

“Jesus Christ.” You sighed, about to get up and run to the bathroom, before three sets of hands were on your shoulders. All but dragging you into the garage under the guise of smoking a cigarette. Mind you, none of you smoked. Jonathan simply handed Nancy the pack. His eyes are all-knowing. 

“Was wondering when the interrogation would start.” Your mouth watered at the pack in Nancy’s hand, demanding to bum one off of her. 

“Only if you answer our questions.” She smirked, waving the pack above your head like a dog with a bone. 

“You each get one question. Maybe two if you guys are nice.” You sighed, snatching the pack from her quickly. They were kind enough to at least give you time to light the cigarette before the questions started. They all spoke over each other, your head aching at the volume. 

“One at a time, please.” You whined, opening the garage door to feel the summer night air hit your flushed skin. 

“Me first,” Robin demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Of course, that would bother her the most. “Honestly,” You sighed, “It happened once, and we never talked about it again. Truly. It would’ve been weird to bring it up.” 

Max raised her hand like she was in school, waiting for you to point at her. “Was it a spur-of-the-moment thing? Or was there a love confession? Were you drunk?” 

“Yes, no, and no. Tipsy off champagne, sure. I was a virgin, made a joke about going to college one, and Steve said ‘What if you weren’t?’ It seemed batshit to me, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I could just get it over with with someone I trusted.”

The girl's eyes were wide, staring at you like you had three heads. 

“And there were no feelings? Like at all?” Nancy asked slowly, like she was scared of startling a wild animal. “Because I mean, for years, everyone thought you two would end up together. I mean, even I did. S’why I was so jealous of you.” 

You shook your head, flicking the cigarette on the ground. “Nope. I mean, it was intimate, yeah, but no love confessions. Just casual sex between friends.” 

“Casual. Right.” Robin nodded, clearly not believing the words coming from your mouth.

“Was it good?” Max asked, making Nancy push her shoulder playfully. “Guess I could ask you too, huh?” Max hissed back, the two of them joking around.  

“It was good.” You sighed, “Probably the best sex I’ve ever had.” You admitted, “Just hasn’t been the same with anyone else.” 

Nancy furrowed her brows, “He’s good. I get that, but hasn’t it been the same?” 

“Y’know, men are just.” You waved your hand around. “They can do all the right things, but it’s not like they’re my best friend, so they don’t know me like Steve does, I guess.” 

“What about that guy you dated for like two years?” Max asked. 

“Sex was fine, just nothing special.” You shrugged. That’s what you told yourself anyway. It’s the only thing you’d let yourself believe. The thoughts resurfacing made your skin crawl. 

They all made a noise, staring amongst each other like they were in on an inside joke you weren’t privy to. You tuned them out, letting the cigarette burn up in your hand, thinking back to graduation night all those years ago.

Graduating from High School didn’t feel as monumental as you thought it was supposed to. There were no grand proposals of love in your cap and gown, no dramatic football field walk-offs, no long monologues about societal expectations. It was a diploma in your hand, too many photos, and dry snack plates littered about. It didn’t feel like much of anything. 

For Steve, it was worse; his parents didn’t even bother attending. Content on spending the start of their summer at their beach house. Calling it a punishment for Steve not getting early admission anywhere, like his father wanted. It was cruel. He acted like it didn’t bother him, but with years of friendship under your belt, you knew his tells. He was tugging the roots of his hair anxiously, the hairspray falling before the night was halfway through. Every time your parents spoke about how proud they were of you, there was a faraway look in his eyes. 

Even when your own parents took him in their arms, a son they never had. He appreciated it, but you knew it wasn’t what he wanted. To be discarded and disregarded by his own parents cut him deeper than he’d ever show. 

That’s why, after all your family retired for the night, you were sneaking into the Harrington household. Not even bothering to sneak in through the window, you opened the front door slowly. The house was dark, still. The only light was emitting from upstairs, where Steve was. You hollered out his name a few times before padding up the stairs. As soon as you spotted him, your heart fell, graduation gown lazily thrown against his chair. He sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. 

You cleared your throat before speaking, “Hello, graduating class of 1985.” 

He didn’t even jump, just wiped his eyes and turned towards you. You held up the stolen bottle of champagne, a bag of food in your other hand. 

“Did you think I was gonna let you celebrate your first night as a free man in this big house all by yourself?” You smirked. 

His eyes lit up in a way only you could make them. His shoulders were trembling from the laugh he was trying not to let escape. “Did you break into my house?” 

“Door was unlocked.” You shrugged, walking into his room as if it were your own. Which, at this point, it might as well have been. “Got your favorite and dessert. Figured we’d put on a record and talk about how terrible Tammy’s song was. And principal Higgin’s speeches.” 

Steve just watched you glide around his room, entering his orbit like you always had. Rambling on as you set the food out, forcing him to pick a record from his crate. 

Once the music was playing, you both ate, rambling on and on about tonight's events. It was an hour later, and you were taking turns destroying the personal-sized cake you picked up from the supermarket. Forks in hand, bitching about the upcoming Summer break. 

You’d be pulling extra hours at the diner, saving up for Fall tuition. While Steve was ranting about his father letting him know he was effectively cut off financially. And how he was really worried about how it would impact his dating life, because of course he would be.

“My summer is gonna be spent at some dead-end minimum wage job before my dad allows me to get an actual job with him,” Steve rambled, “While all the hot girls are going to college. They’re gonna see all these educated hipster dudes and come back to Hawkins and not even spare me another glance.” 

“At least you’re not going into college a virgin.” You shrugged, placing the icing-covered fork down. “I’m never getting laid ever at this rate. It could always be worse.” 

Steve’s body stilled, brows furrowed at you. “What do you mean? Are you saying you never?” 

“Thought you knew that.” You hummed, kicking your feet lazily behind you. Your head still propped up by your hand. 

“But you and Tyler? Not even once? I mean, you guys dated for almost a year.” Steve was aghast, unable to comprehend a teenage boy, not wanting to go all the way. 

“We did like hand stuff, but yeah, never.” You admitted. It wasn’t something you were particularly embarrassed about, but it worried you. Most of the time, people in college had already had sex; you couldn’t imagine many people would want anything to do with an almost 19-year-old virgin. 

Steve made a noise of shock, sitting back on his hands. His mind is running a thousand miles a minute; any longer and smoke would be steaming out of his ears. 

“God, what a loser,” he laughed, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“He just didn’t seem into it, I guess? He probably just didn’t like me very much.” 

“Hey,” Steve frowned, “It’s his loss. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” 

You sighed, “Just gotta find some college boy that doesn’t mind screwing virgins.” You laughed, ready to swing your body off the bed to flip to vinyl over. 

Steve stopped you, his hand steady on your arm. He wasn’t sure what he was about to offer you, whether it was the cheap champagne or the loneliness in his gut. 

“What if you weren’t a virgin, though?” He asked gently, his eyes heavy on yours. 

“What?” You laughed, sitting upright to look at him. 

“Just, what if I... you know?” He stumbled on, tripping over his own words. 

You were lost, unsure of what he was asking. “No offense, but I don’t trust you as a wingman-” 

“No, that’s not what I mean.” He grumbled, cursing himself under his breath. “You know I love you, right? You’re my best friend in the whole world. Nothing would change that.” 

“I know, Stevie. I love you too.” You smiled, covering your hand with his. 

“And I don’t have any romantic feelings for you, not in that way.” He admitted, watching your face intently for your reaction.

“And I don’t for you…” You said, unsure where he was leading with this. 

“But I do have eyes, and you’re very attractive.” 

“Thank you?” You spoke, still confused as you watched him pick out each word carefully. 

“And I’d hate for you to lose your virginity to someone who doesn’t care about you. I know teenage boys, they’re pigs.” He rambled, “It should be special. With someone who cares about you and your pleasure. Someone who makes you feel safe.” 

You nodded, urging him to continue. “So, what I’m trying to say or offer is that I could take your virginity.” 

The words cut through the air like a record scratch, your eyebrows furrowing. 

You knew Steve had a reputation to be upheld at school. The Playboy, the man-whore of Hawkins, as you called him. He was very experienced in that department; you had overheard the rumors. The girls' bathroom whispers about him. But you never thought of him in that way; he was always just Steve. Your Steve. A weird feeling sat in your gut the more you thought about it. 

You looked deep into his warm eyes. He was attractive; that much was obvious to everyone with eyes. He cared about you more than anyone ever had before. He knew you like the back of his hand. There was never a time when someone else came before you. You were two peas in a pod. Everyone knew that wherever you were, Steve was right behind. 

Because he was your Steve, you knew he’d respect you. He’d never cross any lines; he’d be the perfect gentleman. And that’s when the ache started, the gentle throb between your legs. Craving the physical touch of another. 

You don’t know how long you sat there in thought before speaking. Asking him one more time just to make sure you heard him correctly. 

“You’re offering to have sex with me? Just to clarify?” 

He nodded, “As a friend.” 

It sounded silly the moment it left his lips, a smile appearing on your lips. Just one smile and all of his anxiety disappeared. 

“You want us to have sex as friends?” You giggled, “Wait, I don’t want it to ruin what we have.” You paused, grabbing his hand tighter in yours. 

“No, no.” He said quickly, “We don’t have to. I just want you to have that experience with someone who loves you. Nothing’s gonna change between us. I don’t have feelings for you, you don’t have feelings for me. Purely casual. No kissing, no romance. Think of it as an introduction to sex.”

“What’s in it for you?” You couldn’t help but ask. 

A lazy smirk fell on his face, “Well, like I said. Saving you from a horrible first time. It’s simply a bonus that I get to have sex with a pretty girl.”

“You’re so ridiculous, Steve Harrington.” You laughed, his thumb rubbing, smoothing circles into your hand. 

“We don’t have to. We can forget I ever even said anything, and I’ll blame the stolen champagne.” 

“No, I think I want it to be you.” You admitted. 

Your Steve. The boy who took the training wheels off your bike for you. Then kissed your bloodied knees when you crashed into the asphalt. The same boy who taught you how to drive stick, letting you get curb rash all over the Beamer's brand-new tires. The two of you had been through hell and back together; nothing would ruin your friendship. You knew it deep in your heart. There was no life you’d live without Steve.

You both took a moment, letting the words settle between you. His hands were jittery against yours, in anxiety or anticipation, you weren’t sure. Your stomach was in knots, excitement and fear rising in your chest. 

“Do you wanna do it now?” 

“So should we?” You both spoke at the same time, giggling.

Untangling his hands from yours, you moved the half-eaten cake to the desk. Clearing off his bed. He closed his curtains for privacy, flipping over the vinyl once more. You crawled into his bed, settling underneath his covers. You had been in his bed hundreds of times, but now your palms were sweaty. Heart nearly beating out of your chest. 

“One rule,” Steve said, still standing at the edge of the bed. His eyes were dark as he watched you. “We communicate the whole time. I’ll talk you through everything. You tell me what you like, what you don’t like. We stop at any time.” 

Your teeth bit down on your lower lip, nodding at him. 

“Gotta say it, pretty girl.” He urged, your stomach turning with desire. 

“Y-yes.” You said, “I promise.” 

He smiled, slipping his socks off. Giving you time to undress. You lifted your hips, shimmying your pants off underneath the blankets. You weren’t sure why you felt the need to hide, but you blushed when he tugged his own pants down. You had seen him shirtless hundreds of times, but here he stood clad in nothing but his underwear. He looked godlike, his hair messy against his forehead. 

“Should I take my shirt off?” You asked breathily, fingers fumbling with the hem. 

He nodded a little too quickly, a blush forming on his cheeks. “You can leave your bra on. Whatever you feel comfortable with.” 

The shirt was off in seconds, a simple, plain black thing. Having sex with your best friend wasn’t on the agenda for the night, or maybe you would have put on something cuter. But to Steve, it didn’t matter; his jaw ticked anyway. Watching intently as the flesh bounced when you lay back on the bed. He was just a man at the end of the day. 

He joined you underneath the covers, leaning on his elbow to take a look at you. “You feeling okay?” He noted your breathing was heavier, limbs moving nervously. 

“Nervous, but good nervous.” You smiled, his face moving close to yours. 

“S’okay if I touch you?” He asked sweetly. 

You went to nod but stopped yourself, shuffling under the blanket once again to slip your underwear off. Palming up the fabric in your hand and hiding it beneath your discarded pants. 

Steve couldn’t help but laugh, making you glare back at him. “We’re literally about to have sex, but you don’t want me seeing your underwear?” 

“Be nice to me.” You playfully frowned, falling back into position. “Okay. You can touch me now.” 

He pressed his lips down to your forehead gently, letting his hand move underneath the blankets to rest on your stomach. You almost flinched at the warmth of his hands, willing your body to calm down. He took his time, slowly dragging his palm around your naval until it slid further down. You didn’t know where to look, eyes darting all over the room. 

“Spread your legs for me,” Steve demanded softly, his voice deeper than you’d ever heard it before. The words went straight to your core, nearly gasping at the lust in them. It hadn't occurred to you until now that you’d both be sharing your most intimate parts. You would see him fall apart in pleasure just as much as he would you. 

You obliged, your legs parting open for him. His hand traveled through your pubic bone, fingertips teasing the hair down there. Your hips jumped up when his middle and ring fingers pressed softly against your clit, with little resistance. You were wet, and now he knew it as he rubbed an experimental circle into the swollen bud. 

“This okay?” He panted, breath hot against your neck. You were so lost in the moment, you didn’t realize his head was nuzzling closer. 

“Yeah,” You sighed, “Y-you can add a little more pressure.” 

Oh, was he good at following directions. His fingers pressed down harder, continuing his small strokes. He watched you intently, listening to your body’s cues on where exactly to press down harder, and didn’t stop until he found the right rhythm. He knew he did when you let out a small moan, then clamped your mouth shut. Your body flushes in embarrassment. The last thing he wanted was for you to silence yourself, to worry about being quiet instead of focusing on the sensation. 

“You don’t have to be quiet,” He whispered, “I want you to focus on feeling good. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.” 

“J-jesus.” You stuttered, your body going hot. Every time he spoke, you could feel yourself getting wetter, craving more of him. 

But you listened, letting the pathetic moans slip through your lips. He could feel your hips tilting upward, rocking against his hand for more. So more he gave, letting his fingers speed up their movements. 

“O-oh, Steve. Right there.” You sighed, one of your hands grabbing his wrist tightly. “Please don’t stop.” 

“M’not. Just relax. Just feel it.” He cooed, ignoring his cock twitching in his boxers. He couldn’t believe this was happening, your cunt spasming around his fingers as he drew you closer to the edge. Your chest heaved, tits bouncing out the top of your bra with each gasp that left your plump lips. He found himself staring at them, wondering what they’d feel like pressed against his. 

His hips shifted towards your leg, his bulge brushing against you. Doing everything in his power not to hump you like a dog in heat. You felt it anyway, your eyes shooting over to his. 

“You’re hard.” You spoke it like a fact, your voice breathy. 

“Yeah?” He laughed, pressing a little harder into you. “Got a pretty girl moaning my name and cumming around my fingers. Course imma be hard.” 

“God.” You moaned loudly, eyes falling back shut. 

He worked you through your orgasm gently, slowing but not stopping his movements. He waited until your moans had ceased and your breathing evened out before he let his fingers glide further down. 

“I’m gonna put my fingers in now. That okay?” He asked, feeling the opening of your entrance mouth against his fingers greedily. 

“Y-yeah.” You sighed dreamily, and one of your hands had gone behind his head. Fingers laced in his brown locks, his head hovering just above your chest. Resisting the urge to lean down and bite the supple flesh. 

He slid one finger in at a time, letting your body adjust to one before two were slipping deep into your cunt. You were soaked with your previous release and your ongoing arousal. He could feel you dripping down his hand; he was so hard he thought he was going to pass out. 

He pulled his fingers out slowly, before pushing them back in with a wet squelch. The sound would have embarrassed you if not for how deeply they were prodding inside you. His fingertips are brushing a spot inside of you that no one has ever had before. It had you grasping onto him like a lifeline, body tensing. 

“Hey, you okay?” He panted, stilling his movements. 

You nodded, moving your hips down. Trying to fuck yourself on his fingers since he stopped. “F-feels weird. In a good way. Overwhelming. Never felt that before.” 

A deep smirk appeared on his lips, curling his fingers ever so gently to the right. He knew he hit the spot again with you jumped. He let his fingers push in deeper, prodding the spot with each thrust. “Is that it?” 

“Yes.” You cried, head thrown back into the pillows. “Fuck, that’s so good.” 

“S’your sweet spot. It’s gonna feel so good when I’m inside you, honey.” He mumbled, his thumb coming up to rub your clit gently. 

His words made you cum without warning; the sheer mention of his cock being inside you had you cumming around his fingers again. You couldn’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed as he walked you through it, the kindest, filthiest words leaving his lips. 

“There we go, look so good cumming for me. It’s okay, just take it. There you go.” 

Your legs slammed shut around his rest, thighs shaking around him. He took the hint and gently removed his fingers, leaning over to wipe them off on his discarded shirt. You were out of breath, watching his back muscles ripple with his movements. 

“How was that?” He grinned, acting as if he didn’t just give you the two best orgasms of your life. 

“No wonder half of Hawkin’s is throwing themselves at your feet.” You teased him, rubbing your face with your hand. “Jesus, I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard.” 

Pride oozed off of him as he leaned forward, ready to crawl on top of you. You stopped him with a hand to his chest, letting your fingers glide through the soft patch of hair. “Will you let me..?” 

“Oh, well, I was gonna-” 

“Just a little, if t-that’s okay with you. Think it’s only fair.” You smiled, omitting the fact that you so desperately wanted to feel him at least once in your hands. Who was Steve to deprive his pretty best friend of anything? 

He pushed his boxers down off his legs quickly, his cock slapping his pubic bone with a snap. The covers had long been pushed down beneath your knees; no point in hiding from each other at this point. All shame and embarrassment had long been out the window. You had to stifle the gasp once your eyes fell between his legs. He was huge, in a way that felt anatomically impossible. His thick bulbous tip was the prettiest shade of pink, his length long, complete with a thick vein that ran underneath. 

“Steve.” You paled, mouth agape at him. 

He must have been used to this reaction as your hand reached out, wrapping around his length. Your fingers barely fit around it. He had to bite his lip to avoid moaning just from the simple grab. He twitched heavily in your hand. 

“I heard the rumors, but this is insane. That’s not gonna fit inside me.” You gawked, stroking him slowly. 

Between your hand and the words leaving your mouth, he was doing all he could to not ruin this entire idea of his by blowing his load early. 

“I’ll make it fit, pretty girl, don’t worry.” He spoke through clenched teeth, whining when you brought your other hand up. Fitting more of him in your hands. He pulled away slowly, ignoring your whines of protest. “Don’t wanna be a ten pump chump for your first time.” 

You giggled at this, letting him slot himself in between your legs. He leaned over you to fumble around in his bedside drawer, pulling out a stack of condoms. You watched him open the foil with his teeth and expertly roll the latex over himself with ease. You tried not to think of just how many girls have seen him do this, ignoring the weird ache it brought in your chest. 

All of that left the moment he leaned back down, his hand bracing himself next to your head. The other holding his heavy cock in his hand. You could feel the tip brushing against your entrance ever so slightly. 

“Are you ready? Still okay with this?” He asked again, staring deep into your eyes for confirmation. 

You had made your mind up already, spreading your legs wider for him. “Yes, please.” 

He leaned down, dropping another kiss to your forehead before he lined himself up, letting his tip push past your drenched folds. He held you close to him, whispering words of encouragement as he settled inside of you. The stretch hurt, a deep ache that hurt in a good way. Your head was heavy, eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your hands were pressing deep red marks into his shoulder blade, but he didn’t care. Not while your tight cunt was barely making room for him to push in. 

“Gotta relax, baby.” Steve cooed, not even a quarter of the way in. Your heart thumped widely at the nickname, letting his slip of tongue go unnoticed by him. 

“Stevie, y’so big.” You cried, still urging him to continue. He pushed deeper, his hand rubbing small circles on your hip bone. Doing his best to relax you, so you’d open up wide for him. Your cunt took him in slowly, fluttering and squeezing with each inch he slowly dragged in. By the time his hips hit yours, tears were pouring down your cheeks. The stretch was too much; it felt like he was splitting you apart. 

“I’m sorry, so sorry. It’s in now, baby. It’s okay, shhh. Do you wanna stop?” He whispered, smoothing down your hair, keeping you as close as possible to him. 

“N-no, please don’t.” You sobbed, “Just need a minute.” 

“I’ll give you all the time in the world.” He smiled, pressing small kisses into your neck. He meant it; you were warm and wet around him. So tight he had to breathe through his nose and think of anything else to calm him down. 

It took a few minutes of feeling his lips on your skin, his hands roaming respectfully. One of his hands settled on your thigh, nearly gripping your ass in his hands as he held you close. The dull ache had faded, your body stretching to his size as if you were made for him. You could feel your cunt drenching around him again, the ache of needing more settling deep in your bones. 

“Steve.” You breathed out, nearly startling him. 

He looked down at you with his brown doe eyes, ready to give you anything you wanted. Because he always would. He’d never say no to you. Not his Y/n. 

“How’s it feel?” He asked. 

“Good. Really full.” You whispered, “You can move now.” 

“Just tell me if it’s too much, okay?” He didn’t move until you nodded, slowly dragging his cock out of you a few inches before pushing back in. 

You gasped loudly, encouraging him to keep going as he did it again. And again. Slicking up your entrance enough to gain traction, allowing him to slowly slip all the way out, and then your cunt suckling him back in.

“Oh my god.” You cried out, your head deep in the crook of his neck as you clung onto him for dear life. 

His movements were careful and deep, pounding into that sweet spot he found earlier with each thrust. He was surely ruining you for all men to come, as he found a rhythm that worked for both of you. His hips slapping against yours, the lewd sounds of his wet balls slapping against your ass. 

“You feel amazing, honey,” He grunted, making sure you knew this was good for him too, “So tight and wet.”

“Oh, Steve. I-I think I’m gonna cum. I feel like-” Your moans were cut off by his hands grabbing your ass, lifting your leg higher. He shifted even deeper inside of you like this, his tip slamming into your spot with each jolt. 

“You’re gonna cum for me.” He spoke like a fact, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. 

You melted, your body falling slack as you fell into your third orgasm of the night. “Yeah, yeah, I am.” 

It was hard to keep your eyes open as your body shook with pleasure, but it was worth it to see Steve’s face. His plump lips parted, his cheek flushed as his eyes were locked on where you were connected. Watching your release soak his cock. He was beautiful. 

Suddenly, all of the girls in the Hawkin’s bathroom made sense. Why they’d come to his door crying, begging for another chance. Why he walked around god-like all those years. Because with each snap of his hips into yours, Steve Harrington was fucking you into heaven. He was hitting spots inside of you that you’d never even heard of. Bringing you more orgasms in an hour than you had in your entire life. 

“That’s my gorgeous girl.” He preened, and doesn’t miss the way you clench around him after he says it. He’s chasing his own high, leaning back down to press his body against yours. His thick patch of hair rubs against your clit with each roll of his hips. Your entire body was sensitive; each touch had you crying out. 

No matter how much he wanted to cum, he decided he needed one more out of you. Dragging his hips even faster. If this were the first and last time this would ever happen, he’d make it last. He wanted to memorize each gasp that left your lips, the furrow of your brow when you were close. How you felt marking him as your own. 

“Stevie…” 

“Yes?” He panted, his eyes meeting your blissed-out ones. 

“Kiss me.” Your voice was strained, face scrunched up in pleasure. 

Kissing was crossing a line you hadn’t discussed; kissing made it something else. But Steve couldn’t say no to you, not while your lips were parted, begging to be kissed. Begging for him.

He didn’t hesitate to bring his lips down to yours in a crushing kiss. It wasn’t romantic; it was hot and desperate. Open mouth panting into open mouth as you both fell apart in unison. His balls were tightening as your legs shook around his waist. 

“You gonna cum for me? One more time?” He asked against your lips, your head shaking. 

“Yes, you can, baby. Can feel it. Just one more. You’ve done so well.” 

You were crying out against him; you were overstimulated in the best way. With each drag, you could feel the coil tightening, an unusual feeling appearing in your lower belly. 

“W-wait, Steve.” You panicked, pulling away from his kiss. “I feel like I have to-to you k-know” 

He ignored your panic, lifting your leg higher around his waist. “Do you trust me?” 

“With my life.” You nearly sobbed, the feeling only growing stronger. 

“Then shhhh, just relax. I got you.” He whispered, speeding his thrusts up. 

You could barely breathe, each thrust knocking the wind out of you as the pleasure swelled into something you didn’t have a name for. All it took was one more thrust, and the dam had burst, your cunt squirting around him. Your entire body is shaking in pleasure, unable to hear the pornographic wet sounds. It was music to Steve’s ears, his own body flinching in pleasure when he came undone. Spilling his seed into the condom, his hips stilling. 

“Oh my god, Y/n.” He moaned in awe, shakily looking down at the now ruined sheets. 

The room felt too hot, your body slick with sweat, rubbing against his own. You couldn’t look, keeping your eyes clamped shut. 

“That’s so gross.” You grumbled, “M’sorry.” 

“Sorry?” His jaw dropped, leaning down to cup your face in his hands. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Don’t ever apologize for your pleasure. Don’t let any of these little boys make you feel bad, or gross.” 

“Yes, Captain.” You giggled, a goofy smile on your face. His forehead was damp, his hair curling and sticking to his forehead. 

“Gonna pull out and clean you up, okay? Don’t move. It might sting a little.” He warned, pressing a barely there kiss to your lips before he moved. You hissed at the loss of contact, the ache coming back once he slipped out. You refused to look at the damp and bloodied sheets, simply letting him bring a cool washcloth to your legs, patting you clean. It was more intimate than the sex, letting him take care of you like this. 

He gave you a t-shirt of his to slip on and an old pair of boxers. You went to the bathroom while he changed the sheets. When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you hardly recognized the girl staring back at you. Your hair was a mess, cheeks flushed. Small love bites littered your neck from where Steve got carried away. The ache he left between your legs. Your Steve. 

When you walked out of the bathroom, he was sliding a movie into the VHS player, a goofy smile on his lips. “You don’t regret anything, do you?” 

You shook your head, “Not at all. Now grab that cake and pour me a glass. What movie did you put in?” You hobbled over to the bed; if Steve noticed your gait off he didn’t comment on it. Content to follow your orders, as the old TV crackled to life with ‘The Breakfast Club’. 

You were snuggled up in his bed, blankets pulled up to your chin, when he brought you a slice of the cake. Another red solo cup full of champagne. “For the newly no longer a virgin.” 

“Oh, shut up.” You grumbled, snatching the plate from him. He ended up stealing half of your piece, your forks battling as the movie droned on. The night continued as normal, no more touches. Everything was just as it was before, as if nothing had happened. So why was it over half a decade later that the memory still made your heart race? 

You avoided Steve for the rest of the night, content on blindly hoping that everyone would have forgotten it by now. But Steve was just as lost in the memory as you were, both of you zoning out, trying to forget the looks on each other's faces as you came. It wasn’t that you forgot about it over the years, more like you actively tried to. He was your friend; it was a simple act between two horny teenagers who cared for each other. Nothing more, nothing less. Right? 

You should’ve known you’d have to face him eventually, his hand grasping your shoulder gently. Guiding you into the hall outside his bedroom. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, his breath smelled of tequila and lime. A stark contrast to the champagne and cake from the last time his face was this close to yours. 

You stilled, shifting awkwardly on your feet. “Yeah, why?” 

“Just everything in there. I’m sorry that happened. They can be, well, you know.” He chuckled,  his hands still sitting comfortably on your shoulders. Your body leaned into his subconsciously. 

“I already got interrogated in the garage,” You admitted, “It was my fault anyway. Should’ve just lied and not done the shot.” 

Steve’s brows furrowed a bit at this, “Do you?” He cleared his throat, “Do you regret it?” 

You reeled back a little, shaking your head. “N-no. no.” 

“Oh, okay. Good.” He nodded, the air around the two of you growing awkward. It was never awkward with you and Steve. Immediately, you hated it; it felt like your skin was crawling. He felt it too. The nagging feeling inside his chest telling him to pull you close, to bring you back to him. The silence was heavy, covering you two like a blanket. It stayed until Steve opened his mouth, the next few words tilting the world on its axis. 

“I regret it.” 

It took the air from your lungs, nearly staggering back if his hands weren’t holding you steady. His fingers tightened their grip, scared you’d make a run for it before he could get all the words out. He must have seen the look of horror on your face, the shame filling your chest. 

“Not because of you,” he rushed, voice cracking immediately, like he’d been waiting to say this and now it was all coming out wrong. “Jesus, no-not because of you. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Then why?” Your voice was meek, almost unrecognizable. 

“Because it ruined me,” he said quietly, like admitting it out loud might finally split him open. “Not because it was wrong, but because it was right. Right in a way, I never even realized until years later, I regret it because I couldn’t stop remembering it. Because every time I looked at you after that, there was this gap. This space between what we were and what we could’ve been.”

“I didn’t know…” You whispered, “I didn’t even. I didn’t let myself think about it. I thought it just wasn’t in the cards for us. You were my Steve. Wasn’t gonna ruin that.”

“I love you,” he said, finally, like it was a confession and an apology and a surrender all at once. Like he couldn’t go another second without the words leaving his chest. “I loved you before I knew it had a name. And now I do, and I don’t know how to live with it without wrecking everything.”

“Are you sure this isn’t the tequila talking?” You asked, the world still spinning on its side, as he looked down at you as if you were his whole world. Which you were to him. 

“Yes, I mean it’s giving me courage, but everything I’m saying I mean. God, Y/n, I mean it.” He promised. The confession had you reeling. 

“Steve…” You whispered, “I love you, too.” 

“Yeah?” He smiled, his hands shaking. “Thank god, I was feeling a little nervous there.” 

The tension was broken at that, laughter filling the air once again. The language the two of you knew well. You didn’t know where to put your hands, what to say next. 

“It’s never been like this with us,” You said quietly, as if you said it too loud, it would jinx it. 

“I know,” comes the answer right away. “That’s what’s freaking me out.”

“I’m also freaking out.” You assured him, your eyes wide. Laughs erupt from your chests, leaning towards each other from it. Your hands came up, pressing gently against his chest. You and Steve were never overly touchy-feely as friends; boundaries were upheld. Upheld for so long, it's as if each of you knew once it started, you’d never want to stop. 

“I don’t know how to do this.” He admitted, his hands covering yours. You could feel his heart beating against your intertwined hands. Fast, loud, and just for you. 

“Me neither, but it feels right. Don’t you think?” You smiled up at him. 

He gave you that beautiful, toohy grin of his. “God, yeah, it does. Feels like there’s always been something missing.”

“All this time?” Your eyes softened, mourning the years lost. How could you miss something you never even knew you could have had? 

“All this time.” He beamed, “And I don’t know what’s next. All I know is that I’m never letting you go. Ever.” 

“That a promise, Harrington?” You teased, his body leaning closer into yours. 

“That’s a threat, actually.” He smirked, finally crashing his lips onto yours. 

he stands too far away at first, hands showmved deep into his pockets, shoulders tense like he’s holding himself back from somethinghe doesn’t trust—in which he really doesn’t. 

especially when you sit closer, his jaw tightens, eyes flicking away to your neck and then away like he’s stuck.

“mike,” you murmured, “you’re staring.”

he scoffs, “no, i’m not?” his tone was defensive, it blew away his cover immediately.

you don’t call him out. you just tilt your head a little, offering skin—and your trust. his breath catches immediately. 

“don’t,” he murmurs, scared. “i don’t need to, i’ll be fine.”

“no you won’t.” you interrupt softly, “mike, its alright—promise.” 

that’s what does it. a quick nod of trust from you and his choice had already been made. 

he hesitates for so long, that you thought he wouldn’t do it anymore—but then, his hands come up, slow and careful, settling at your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he tightens his grip further. his forehead rests against your shoulder, breath warm, shaking.

“just a little,” he whispers. “i won’t hurt you.” 

you nod.

when his lips brush your neck, it was almost reverent. he kisses you first, as if he’s grounding himself, memorizing your warmth. then slowly—he sinks his teeth in, controlled, just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.

he feeds briefly, careful enough not to hurt you as he thinks he would.

he pulls back too soon, breathing hard, his eyes glistened with guilt—and hunger all at once. his thumb presses gently to the bite as if checking if you’re okay, as if he can undo it by touch alone.

“i’m sorry,” the phrase slipped out of his mouth immediately. 

“mike,” you murmur. “it’s alright—really.” 

he swallows, nods once then leans back in.

this time, it’s not hunger—it’s need twisted into affection. his lips trail over the bite, slow and deliberate, kissing it like an apology—then he sucks, in a breath and presses his mouth just beneath it, holding you steady as he leaves a mark. 

the hickey slowly blooms dark, bruised, purple marks spreading under his mouth—it felt warm, his lips trailing across the crook of your neck. 

when he pulls away, he stares at it—like it scares him how much he wants it there.

“shit, baby—fuck, i didn’t mean to—” he starts. 

you don’t let him finish, instead you lean forward to kiss him.

it’s soft at first, tentative, but he gives in almost immediately. his hands slide up to your jaw, cradling your face like something precious. the kiss deepens, unhurried but hungry, lips parting as he exhales against your mouth. he tastes like you and copper and restraint barely holding.

he kisses you like it was safer than feeding.

when you finally pull back, your foreheads rest together. his breathing is uneven, eyes still flicking to your neck, to the marks he left behind.

“you’re gonna ruin me,” he mutters quietly as you smile. hands reaching for his, as he reassures you with sweet nothings in your ear.

Steve shakes his head, “Why did I agree to this in the first place?”

“Because it was a good plan,” Joyce chimes in.

“Clearly not good enough,” Erica retorts. “We still need to keep an eye on Dipshit Derek and keep him from waking up again.”

When Derek woke up the first time, it threw off the entire group. Nancy managed to jab him with another dose of benzos before he could alert anyone outside of what was going on. From what the boy had said in the couple minutes he was conscious, you could tell that he was the exact dipshit Erica and Lucas had described him as.

Dustin rolls his eyes, “Just take the kid, Steve. You two are like the Mom and Dad of the group, it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, it’s all fine until we go to jail for drugging and kidnapping an entire family!” Steve’s voice grows louder with each word.

“How about this?” Nancy steps between Dustin and Steve. “Rock, paper, scissors. Both plans have risks and benefits, so we leave it up to chance.”

You nod, “It’s the best way to solve this. Just do it, baby.”

“Yeah, just do it, baby,” Dustin mocks.

Steve looks like he’s seconds away from strangling Dustin, but instead he prepares to play. Dustin and Steve are both taking this game of rock, paper, scissors way too seriously. Steve is crouched forward, fist already prepared. And Dustin has a fiery look in his eyes.

“Rock, paper, scissors… shoot!” They call out in unison.

Dustin holds up paper and Steve holds up rock. Dustin cheers.

Steve groans, “Come on, man.”

…

With the way Steve has slung Derek over his shoulder, it looks like the boy is just asleep. Maybe it’s better if you think about it that way. 

“I can’t believe this shit. Can you?”

All you can manage to do is shake your head. You step in front of Steve to unlock the front door. Once the door is open, Steve carries Derek in with ease. 

“Where should I put him?”

“In the basement.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, "Totally not creepy at all.”

“Fine,” You roll your eyes. “Put him in one of your guest bedrooms.”

A guest bedroom is definitely more humane than the basement, even though it’s a bigger risk. Derek is still a kid, no matter the circumstances; Steve is somehow more able to see this than you are, the stakes of the situation must be clouding your judgement.

Steve carries Derek to the guest room at the far side of his house. You open the door for him again, walking in first so you can peel up the blanket. Steve carefully lays Derek down on the bed and tucks him in. For a split second, it feels like you two are just tucking your son into‌ bed. You laugh at the thought.

“What is it?”

“We’re more like parents than kidnappers,” you chuckle again.

A soft smile forms on Steve’s face, “I guess Henderson was right, we really are the Mom and Dad of the group.”

“You’re definitely Mom.”

Steve snorts, “Fine, Dad.”

Derek stirs in bed. The movement sends shockwaves up your spine. 

Steve caresses your lower back, “I can keep watch if you want to get some rest.”

“We should stick together. Just in case.”

The two of you sit down in front of the door. Your head finds its way to Steve’s shoulder.

“What do you think the others are planning?” He whispers.

"Hopefully not another kidnapping.”

“We’re the only sane ones in a group full of crazy people.”

“We can’t be that sane if we went along with it,” you joke.

Steve slips his brown jacket off and lays it over your legs like a blanket. You set your head back down on Steve’s chest, the fibers of his sweater tickling your skin. It was hard enough not to fall asleep before, but sitting like this makes it impossible. You yawn. 

Steve reaches up to stroke your arm, “I could stay here with you forever.”

“In the guest room where we’re keeping the child we kidnapped?”

“No, in a room with one of our own little nuggets. I’ve always dreamed of having six. A full brood of Harringtons.”

“That sounds nice, chaotic, but nice.”

Before you can stop yourself, you fall asleep with the thought of Steve and your six nuggets fresh on your mind.

… 

You wake up to the feeling of two small hands pulling at your arm. For a moment, you think that Steve’s dream has come true until you open your eyes and see Dipshit Derek.

“Steve!” Steve stirs, eyes blinking open slowly before he finally catches sight of the scene in front of him.

“Get out of my way, kidnappers!”

Steve hops up and tries to pull Derek off of you. But the kid swerves him and tries to push you down from the other side. You plant your hands in the carpet, holding on for dear life. Derek is stronger than he looks.

“Let me out!”

Steve finally manages to pick him up. Derek flails in his arms.

“Kid, we’re not going to hurt you. We’re just trying to help.”

You stand up, making sure to keep your body in front of the door, “Yeah, if you calm down, we’ll tell you everything.”

Derek turns to Steve like he’s finally going to calm down, then spits in Steve’s face. Saliva splats against Steve’s cheek, leaving a glob in the middle with traces going all the way out to his hairline. 

“Suck my fat one!” Derek begins to fight again, squirming in Steve’s arms. “Help! Someone help!”

You do the only thing you can think of and put your hand over Derek’s mouth to shut him up. Of course the little shit licks your hand, but you don’t pull away. Steve looks equally shocked and disgusted. You wipe the saliva off of his cheek with your free hand. Derek alternates between licking your hand and making attempts to shout. 

“Listen! You’re going to quiet down and let us explain ourselves. Then, we’ll answer any questions you have. Just… stop yelling.”

You’re taken aback by Steve’s tone. You’re even more surprised when Derek actually listens, his muffled shouts stop and his tongue retreats back into his mouth, thank God.

“My girlfriend’s going to take her hand off your mouth now, and you’re going to stay quiet, right?” Steve’s voice is firm but not mean.

Derek nods vigorously, so you remove your spit coated hand from his mouth. Your nose wrinkles up at the sight of your palm; you’re going to have to wash it for at least ten minutes to get it to feel remotely clean again.

“If I set you down, will you stay put?”

Derek nods again. Steve gently sits him down on top of the tangled sheets on the bed. When it feels safe enough to, you leave the room and go to the nearest bathroom. You scrub your hand quickly before wetting a piece of paper towel for Steve’s cheek. The room is still silent when you return. You wipe the sheen of saliva off of Steve’s face as best as you can. Titling his head to make sure that you haven’t missed a spot.

“Gross,” Derek mutters.

You turn to him, “Whose fault is that?”

“Maybe you should think about that before becoming a child kidnapper.”

Steve sighs, “We’re not child kidnappers. My name is Steve and that’s my girlfriend,” Steve points and introduces you.

“We’re trying to save you from Vec… Henry.”

“Mr. Whatsit is trying to save us from the monsters. He’s a good guy.”

You shake your head, “He’s lying to you. The monsters in Hawkins are his monsters. He wants to use you, not help you. Last night, he would’ve used one of those monsters to take you if we hadn’t stepped in.”

“How do I know you aren’t lying? I trust Mr. Whatsit more than you kidnappers. How do I know you’re not the monsters he’s trying to save me from?”

“The full story sounds crazy, because it is, but you’ll trust us once you hear it.”

So, you and Steve go through the story of the Upside Down with Derek, starting with Will’s disappearance.

“Zombie Boy?”

“Yeah, Will Byers,” Steve beats you to correcting him.

You face many more interruptions throughout the rest of the story, especially about the names, which is hard to explain without the boys’ D&D knowledge, but the two of you manage to get through it. By the end, Derek looks unconvinced.

“You’re both crazy.”

“Do we look crazy?” Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Derek pauses before saying. “If you’re not, prove it.”

“How could we possibly prove it here?” You retort.

You glance at Steve, who’s deep in thought. Then, unprompted, he pulls up his shirt. You don’t understand what he’s getting at until he gestures to the scars on his stomach.

“Do those look like they came from a normal animal?”

“No…”

You look back at Derek, “Do you believe us now?”

Slowly, he nods, “I guess so.”

…

“Crust off or on?” Steve asks.

“Off,” Derek takes another gulp of soda, then belches.

Steve smiles as he cuts the crust off each side of Derek’s sandwich.

You lean in and plant a kiss against Steve’s jaw, “Are you having fun playing house?”

“So much fun,” He presses a kiss to your lips.

Steve has to pull himself away from you before he goes any further. He gives you a look that says that you’ll finish up later. You try not to wonder how far away later is. How long is it going to take the group to come up with and prepare a plan? Even then, they might leave the two of you on Derek duty while they execute the plan. Once Steve’s done with Derek’s sandwich, he sets it on a plate alongside a handful of chips and slides it to Derek.

“Is this drugged?”

“What?” Steve looks confused. “No.”

That’s all it takes for Derek to start devouring the sandwich.

“Poor kid must’ve been so hungry,” Steve whispers.

You blink at him, “Do you seriously feel sorry for Dipshit Derek?”

“You say that like he’s a supervillain, he’s just a kid,” Steve sounds oddly defensive.

“I know.”

The next few minutes are silent, barring Derek’s frequent, purposeful burps, you wonder what you said to get Steve upset. He has a pensive look on his face as he makes your sandwich, then his. 

“Can I have another, Mr. Steve?” 

Steve stops mid bite and nods, “‘f course, bud.”

Bud? Derek spat in Steve’s face a few hours ago, now he’s his… bud? You stare at Steve, trying to puzzle this out. He, of course, avoids your gaze and gets up to make Derek another sandwich. 

“Eat, baby,” Steve gestures to the sandwich in front of you. “You haven’t had anything since yesterday.”

“Baby?” Derek gags. 

“Okay, honey bun,” you reply.

You’ve never called Steve honey bun before, but in response to Derek’s disgust, you’ve decided to amp things up. Derek gags again, yet there’s something else in his expression. The tips of Steve’s ears turn red. 

Steve spins around, pointing a bottle of mustard out towards Derek, “Please don’t vomit in my house. You’ll be the one cleaning it up.”

‘Bullshit’ is the first thing that comes to your mind. Despite the empty threats he makes towards the kids, he rarely follows through. The only time you’ve seen him do so was when Lucas and Dustin spilled a slushie in the back of Steve’s beemer on their way back from the movies; he made them scrub until there were no signs that anyone had ever been in the back seat, much less spilled something in it.

Steve finishes Derek’s second sandwich quickly. Being left to his own devices for stretches in his childhood and always having kids around has made Steve a master sandwich maker. With the crusts cut off so cleanly, it looks like he used a ruler to do so. You can’t help but notice that Derek and Steve like their sandwiches the same way, though Steve will eat it either way if he’s hungry enough.

…

After lunch, Steve decides it’s the perfect time to play a board game. In his closet are a stack of brand new, yet somehow already battered board games that he bought for the kids to play whenever they came over. 

“Which one do you think he’ll like?” Steve holds up a box. “I’m thinking Shark Attack.”

You reach up, grabbing another game, “What about Monopoly?” 

You raise a knowing eyebrow. The fact that Steve even still has the game is surprising.

“That’s a no. That stupid game mixed with a kid like Derek is a recipe for disaster.”

“You’re just bitter about the time the kids teamed up against you to win.”

Steve runs a hand through his hair, “Because it was unfair. They were targeting me for the fun of it. It only helped Dustin in the long run. That kid is good at everything, I swear.”

You laugh, “Fine. Shark Attack it is.”

It isn’t until you start to leave the room that you remember the situation you’re in. Steve has made this all feel so normal, even though he was the one who originally had the most objections. Not that you didn’t have yours, but he’s suddenly gone mom mode as if nothing’s going on.

“Wait, Steve,” You turn. “What’s up with you?”

“What do you mean? I’m fine.”

“You’re treating Dipshit Derek like he’s just another one of the kids. Like we didn’t kidnap him to save him from monsters that are still hunting for him. It’s like everything we know about him, everything he did earlier, didn’t happen. I know you love kids and you’re good with them, but this is at a whole other level.”

“What, were we supposed to throw him in the basement to fend for himself just because he can be a bit of an asshole? He’s a kid. A little rich asshole, but a kid. I know what it’s like to be that kid.”

“Steve…”

“You wouldn’t get it. I know it seems like there are no problems when you grow up like I did but there are. Money doesn’t matter as much when your parents just throw it at you as a lame apology for not being around. I bet you Derek’s parents are the same way, that’s why he acts the way he does. At least, that’s why I did it. I was mad at the world, and I just wanted someone to see me.”

You pause, “I didn’t think of it that way.”

“I know you didn’t, babe. I’m not mad, I just… I think we should have more, I don’t know, empathy, compassion? The kid is a little shit, don’t get me wrong.”

Steve’s revelation makes so much sense that you’re annoyed that you didn’t catch it earlier. Of course, Steve would see himself in a kid like Derek. Like he said, he was a Derek not too long ago. And Derek’s response to Steve is clearer now as well. The kid just needed to be seen, not judged. You’re guessing Steve is one of the first people to. 

“Let’s go play some Shark Attack,” you smile.

Steve grins back and plants a kiss on your cheek before both of you leave the room. Derek is sitting impatiently on the couch, surfing through channels on the Harrington’s massive TV. When he sees the game in Steve’s hands, he jumps up to grab it.

“Holy shit! I love this game.”

As you play, Steve and Derek get more competitive. Their energy seems to affect you too, even though it’s a game of luck. Every time one of your or Steve’s fish gets eaten by the shark, Derek cheers at the top of his lungs. Steve does the same thing when Derek’s fish gets eaten. 

“Boom! I won again. Suck it losers.”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Pure luck. I’ll beat you next time.”

Steve does not in fact beat him the next time. Or the time after that. Eventually, they both seem to get bored with the game.

You lean towards Derek, “Do you want to see Steve get really mad?”

Derek nods without even thinking and starts to pack everything back into the box. You disappear upstairs and come back with the Monopoly box in your hands.

“Oh no,” Steve groans.

Once the board is set up, you form a plan with Derek. Steve watches the two of you whisper like you’re plotting to attack him, not just beat him at a kids’ game. 

“Just wait and see how red his face gets. He’s like a human tomato.”

“You know I can hear you, right?”

Derek cackles. 

You put on a faux sweet smile, “I’m well aware, Stevie.”

“Jesus Christ,” He murmurs. “It’s already happening.”

“You’re going down, Mr. Steve.”

The game goes as expected, you and Derek get the upper hand, leaving Steve more and more annoyed. What you forgot about was the fact that only one of you can win after you get Steve out. Derek is insanely good at Monopoly, perks of being from a family that runs a real estate empire, and wipes the floor with you. All you can do is sit there and lose, which seems to re-inflate Steve.

He elbows you, “Wow, you really didn’t think this one through.”

“Shut up.”

“Who’s bitter now?”

“Still you.”

You roll a six on your next turn, landing you on Atlantic Avenue, where Derek has three hotels.

“Shit.”

You dejectedly gather up the last of your money and hand it to Derek.

“Ha! I won.”

The rest of the day follows this same pattern: playing games, forming alliances, Derek gloating. Despite his competitive nature, you notice that Steve purposefully fumbles a few games just to see Derek’s grin when he wins yet another game. After making your way through Steve’s board game supply, you decide a movie is the best idea. It’ll calm Derek down before bed and give you all a much needed break. 

Steve leaves to make popcorn while Derek hunts through Steve’s VHS supply. He waits for Steve to come back with a giant bowl of popcorn before he turns on some comedy, you know Steve’s seen a hundred times.

“This is a great movie,” Steve’s words are muffled by the popcorn in his mouth.

“Yeah,” Derek’s grin has softened into something lighter.

By the end of the movie, Derek fast asleep curled up next to Steve. 

“I think he has Stockholm syndrome,” You whisper.