TVSTRANGERTHINGS
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Xuebing Du
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KIROKAZE
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oozey mess
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occasionally subtle
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
AnasAbdin
#extradirty
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@aecd27
introduction to aecd
aden ♡ any pronouns ♡ 24 ♡ aries
hi!! i made this blog to repost and share what I find on this app as well as a few of my own thoughts, ideas, and occasional fics
billie eilish / music / songwriting / lyrics / taylor swift / art / movies / halsey / tate mcrae / stranger things / FUCK ICE / FUCK TRUMP / FUCK MAGA / FUCK AI / <3 / enfj / steve harrington / byler / spencer reid
masterlist
divider credits: @strangergraphics
𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬
another fun little hc because i am deeply unwell with keys fever rn
. * ✦ . ˚ ✦ .
Keys is, without question, the most attentive boyfriend you've ever had.
Sweet, kind, considerate—maybe a little introverted, not the type for grand gestures or constant PDA—but he always takes care of you in all the ways that matter.
He's the kind of guy who automatically switches sides so he's the one closest to traffic when you're walking together. The kind who remembers your favorite snacks after you mention them once; he somehow always has them waiting in his pantry whenever you come over.
If you fall asleep on his couch with your head in his lap, he'll sit there for hours with his leg completely numb before even considering waking you up.
And that carries over into the bedroom, too.
He’s attentive in a way that makes you feel so completely safe, so completely looked after. Always checking in, always tuned in to the smallest shifts in you. You think he genuinely likes taking care of you, making sure you’re alright, making sure you feel good, that you're enjoying yourself as much as he is.
He's open-minded—always willing to try something new if it interests you—though the two of you usually end up drifting back to your favorites. Missionary, lotus, anything that gets him close enough to brush your hair back from your face, to watch your face scrunch up in ecstasy. He's the type to lace his fingers through yours just so you’ll have something to hold onto when you let go.
With Keys, affection isn't loud.
It's the hand on your waist guiding you through a crowd, the jacket draped over you when you fall asleep on the car ride home.
He’s a sweet guy, is what you’re saying.
So naturally, about a month into dating, you decide surprising him at his apartment is a great idea.
You slip inside with the spare key because he told you weeks ago “it’s okay to stop by whenever.”
You think it'll be cute.
Maybe you'll sneak up behind him, cover his eyes, press a kiss to his cheek just to watch him go all flustered and pink for you.
You've got a soft plushie tucked under your arm—a teddy bear wearing a blue hoodie and tiny little glasses that looks exactly like him. Keys Bear, as you'd immediately named him in your head.
You're still grinning to yourself as you jiggle the door open.
Except the moment you step inside you hear:
“Motherfucker.”
You stop dead, the keys still dangling from your fingers, plushie nearly slipping from your arm, because...
Who the hell was that?
You know that voice.
But at the same time... you don't.
It sounded like Keys.
Except lower, rougher. Completely stripped of the soft-spoken warmth you're used to hearing.
“There’s no fucking way that hit me.”
Click.
Click-click-click.
“Where did this guy even come from?”
Click-click.
“Yeah, okay. Sure. That's bullshit.”
Your eyebrows slowly climb toward your hairline.
Keys swears?
Obviously he does; he's an adult, you've never assumed otherwise.
But around you, the harshest word you've ever heard him say is probably “damn.”
You inch down the hallway toward his bedroom, the door cracked open enough for you to peek through.
And you find your sweet, considerate, impossibly patient boyfriend sitting there, three inches from the monitor, headset on, shoulders wound so tight they're practically touching his ears.
His eyes are locked onto the screen with laser-focus, fingers flying across the keyboard faster than you can follow.
The same fingers that slip into yours mid-conversation.
The same fingers that patiently untangle your necklaces when they knot, zip up your dresses when you're struggling with the clasp.
The same fingers that help you fold laundry on lazy Sunday mornings because “it's faster if two people do it.”
The same fingers that once spent forty-five minutes researching heating pads online because he was not about to let you suffer through cramps with anything mediocre.
You've never seen him look this focused before.
Jaw set tight, a tendon in his neck standing out in a way you’re not used to seeing. His eyes are narrowed behind his glasses, the screen reflecting in quick, restless flashes of light across the lenses.
“Are you actually serious right now?”
Click.
“Push mid.”
Click-click.
“No—don’t stand there, move.”
Click.
“Yeah. That's what I thought.”
Your stomach does a strange little flip.
Because...
Is this your boyfriend?
Your sweet boyfriend?
Your “text me when you get home” boyfriend?
Your “hold still, it's cold” boyfriend?
Your “I saw this and thought of you” boyfriend?
Your “I made extra food because I knew you’d forget to eat” boyfriend?
The man who says “sorry” when he needs to squeeze past someone in a grocery aisle?
The man who once spent an entire afternoon helping his elderly neighbor move furniture because her grandson couldn't make it over that week?
The man who gets pink in the face whenever you compliment him?
Who still gets visibly flustered every time you kiss his cheek?
That man?
And what really gets you, about all this, isn't the swearing.
It's his tone.
Key’s isn’t shouting into his microphone or slamming his desk the way you’d expect from most gamers.
If anything, he’s speaking in this low, calm register.
Something a little degrading in his voice when he tells his teammates: “You wanna try that one again?” or “Nice job, buddy. Maybe hit something next time.”
A kind of cool, knowing arrogance that only comes from being completely certain he’s right.
Which, judging by the groans from the people in his headset and the score steadily climbing on his screen, he usually is.
You always knew your boyfriend liked being right.
When you first met Keys, you'd figured out pretty quickly that he was insanely smart. Competitive, too.
You just never realized he’d been holding himself back this whole time.
It's like discovering your golden retriever has teeth.
Because for the first time, it occurs to you that your boyfriend isn't nice because he lacks a backbone.
He isn't sweet because he's incapable of being mean.
He's sweet because he actively chooses to be.
Watching him now, it's obvious.
That quick wit, that confidence. That razor-sharp sarcasm and the ease with which he fires back cutting comments without missing a beat.
A side that clearly existed long before you met him.
It's always been there, just hidden underneath polite smiles and good manners.
That contrast, unfortunately, is making it very difficult for you to think straight.
And even more difficult to stand straight.
You shift your weight in the doorway, still clutching little Keys Bear against your chest as you feel heat pool between your thighs, growing wetter with each passing second—another low, mumbled comment from him, dry and just this side of mean, effortless in the way he says it and so different from the softness he shows you.
On screen, another defeat.
Keys lets out a long, suffering sigh, dragging a hand through his hair as he slumps back in his chair.
It swivels slightly with the motion, and his gaze finally catches on you in his peripheral vision.
You watch as those big, expressive puppy-dog eyes go round with shock.
And just like that, Gamer Keys disappears.
He jolts, the headset nearly flying off as he yanks it from his head, sending it clattering onto the keyboard.
“Baby! Hey!” The smile that spreads across his face is instantly familiar, warm and soft, albeit surprised. “When did you, uh, when did you get here?”
You blink, remembering to swallow the spit pooled on your tongue before you speak.
“Just now.”
Keys studies you for a second.
The slack-jawed, slightly dazed look on your face must give you away, because his brows pull together.
“Is... everything okay?”
“Yep.”
“You sure?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Okay, cause… I mean, you’re kinda just staring at me right now? So...”
Yeah.
Because ten minutes ago you thought your boyfriend was the sweetest man alive.
And you still do.
Except now you’ve discovered there’s an entirely different side to him underneath all that softness.
A side that's confident, quick-witted, ruthless, almost intimidating when the situation calls for it.
Mean.
You clear your throat, glancing down at the teddy bear still squished against your chest before holding it out.
“I brought you this.”
Keys blinks at it, then carefully takes it from you with both hands.
And the expression that breaks across his face is so soft, so fond, it makes you doubt whether the last few minutes were real at all.
“Wow, this is... he’s so cute,” he huffs out a quiet laugh, turning it in his hands, thumb smoothing over its head. He looks up at you, a boyish grin pulling at his mouth, his glasses catching the light. “Is this supposed to be me?”
You nod.
He lets out another laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. I see it.”
He gently props the plushie up right beside his monitor, adjusting it once before letting it settle.
Then he reaches for you. It’s easy and instinctive—one arm slipping around your waist as he draws you closer, spreading his legs and guiding you into the space between his knees.
Your hands come up to rest on his shoulders, fingers carding through the soft hair at the nape of his neck.
He tilts his head up to look at you, still a little concerned, trying to figure out why you haven’t stopped staring at him.
“Hey, you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, quieter this time, thumb brushing against your side.
You lean down, palms gently holding him in place as you press a sweet, feather-light kiss to his cheek. You give his face a soft little squeeze afterward, pleased by the scrunch of his nose and the way his grin spreads.
His ears turn pink.
There he is.
Your Keys.
“Just missed you,” you mumble, then glance toward the glowing monitor behind him. “Can I watch you finish your game?”
His brows lift slightly.
“The game?”
“Yeah.”
“Uh, you sure?” he blinks, clearly thrown. “We can do something else.”
You shake your head.
“No. Keep playing. I wanna see.”
A slow, slightly confused smile tugs at his mouth before he nods.
“Okay, yeah, sure. Let me grab you a chair.”
You hum, then—much to Keys’ surprise—you turn around and plop yourself down, right into the space between his thighs.
His chest presses flush against your back, the familiar warmth of him wrapping around you. The sudden closeness seems to catch him off guard; you feel his breath hitch right by your ear, his lips grazing against your skin when he exhales.
You wiggle your hips, rubbing against his lap as you try to get comfortable, and immediately feel him go still behind you.
You bear just a little more of your weight down before turning your head, catching his wide-eyed gaze with a sweet smile.
“Is it okay if I sit here instead?”
🌸 MAY RECOMMENDATIONS 🌸
here's my may recommendations!! another beefy month of fics i loved!!
**some fics will not have necessarily been posted in may
IMPORTANT: please read the warnings on the fics before reading them. most will be 18+!! there is some series in there also but mainly all of these are one shots!
ᰔ indicates that this is a series / multi parts
۶ৎ steve harrington
in the summer sun by @tinfoileddd wrapped around your finger by @vamptales promise? and gold rush by @aecd27 oblivious by @munsonify i almost do by @catherinnn you don’t go to parties anymore and i’m scared i’ll never sleep again by @teheblue ᰔ temporary fix by @discodjo ᰔ one big favour by @luusygoosey disarm by @stevenose busy right now by @vader-anakin never leave you by @whispersoflost he knows better by @trizharrington will you still love me tomorrow? by @levanswrites ᰔ so high school by @swirledyouintoallmypoems after midnight by @harringtonsugar in the dark, you’re honest by @drownedinmelancholy said i'm the love of your life (about a million times) by @catssluvr the hawkins memorial hospital by @kensley-11 the second line by @calelundaa daughter from hell and uptowngirl by @oohgeminii slow hands by @s111ut a conversation on nuggets by @bells-bookshelf don’t sweat by @yeah-iveheardofbears always ready to be left out in the cold by @thecreelhouse what are you wearing? by @djopuppy my desperate girl by @cakedupkeery
۶ৎ gator tillman
wanna hear you say by @keer-y my boy only breaks his favourite toys by @xpeachsunsidex everything shower by @levanswrites
۶ৎ kurt kunkle
boy next door by @stvswrld69
۶ৎ travis 'teacake' meacham
be quiet (no, don’t) by @keer-y white lines, pretty baby, tattoos by @djopuppy
۶ৎ walter 'keys' mckey
officer mckey by @entrenoussir ᰔ smashingkeys69 by @nowprettybbyimrunning
۶ৎ bucky barnes
tuesday night secrets by @aderna01 it’s not the same river by @goldiwrites manchild by @houseofhyde you make loving fun! by @superbassbuck you earned it by @phoenix-in-writing
for all my recs, please see my fic rec account @moonstone-recommends
⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
this is my dream
tysm!
THE LIGHT OF THE MOON
here again ch5 - series masterlist
pairing: gator tillman x fem!reader
summary: after the disaster that was dinner at your mother's house, you find yourself slipping into dangerous bad habits that dig up old feelings. but as your time in lehigh runs out, you begin to wonder if those feelings really are old.
wc: 14.5k
warnings/tags: 18+ mdni, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, depictions of domestic abuse, massive panic attack, and drumroll please...THE SMUTTY PAYOFF!!!, piv sex, oral (f recieving), (see masterlist for general series warnings)
a/n: omg guys we're finally here!! sorry for the time this took but i'm currently in peak assignment period so pls bear with me. but i hope this chapter is worth the wait. urgh i love them so bad :((
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
For the past few years, you had developed an incredibly bad habit. Sometimes, just sometimes, when you were feeling lonely, you would play your old voicemails back for yourself. All from the same person. The one that spent all of last night holding you in his arms, enveloping you in the comforting scent of sandalwood and vanilla. The same exact cologne he’d worn since he started caring about stuff like that, which was around the time he left you the voicemail you were listening to right now.
16 years old.
“Hey Dove. Are ya comin’ to Jamie’s house tonight?” The music bumped loudly in the background, Gator’s voice barely audible over the chatter of the sophomore party. “Skip the homework for one night, k? Cause like…’S kinda boring without ya here.” You could imagine him now — head down, probably downing a drink before talking — just as you did when you first heard the voicemail, having knocked out early because you couldn’t stand to see all the fun you were missing out on. More accurately, you didn’t want to see all the fun Gator could have without you. And with many other girls. “Gator! You have to be on my team for beer pong! I’m hopeless without you.” A drunk voice giggled. “I gotta go but…maybe I’ll see you later.”
“Babe.” A hand on yours ripped you from the memory. You quickly composed yourself as you tore out your earphones and turned to Malcolm, who was next to you on the bed. “What are you so invested in listening to first thing in the morning?” He blinked at you with the sweetest sleepy eyes, running his thumb softly against your skin. Your heart sank. What were you doing being stuck in memories that didn’t matter anymore when he was right there?
“Nothing.” You placed your phone on the nightstand and laid back down so you were wrapped in Malcolm’s arms, your head tucked against his chest. Yeah. This was right. When you smiled up at him, he immediately captured your lips in a kiss. One that quickly grew hungry as he rolled over you. His weight pressed you into the mattress, and you were aching desperately. But as you opened your eyes for a split second, your gaze caught the clock.
“Malcolm.” He didn’t hear you the first time, still kissing down your neck. And you wanted it. Oh, you wanted it bad. But you couldn’t. For many reasons. “Malcolm.” You tried again. This time he hummed in response, but moved his hands down your body as he kept kissing. You didn’t know why your stomach dropped. You pushed him up, forcing him to look you in the eye. “I’m going to be late for work.”
At your words, he sighed and rolled to the side. You hated every part of this. Ever since you’d been here, everything between you had just been…off. You pressed an apologetic kiss to his cheek. “See you tonight, yeah? Love you.”
“Love you too.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
You tried to ignore the suffocating air in the room as you got ready for the day.
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
Working at Dave’s had taught you a lot about Lehigh. That people here loved routine — same diner, same food, same time everyday. That folks were physically unable to hide the emotions on their faces, gossiping in front of the very people they were talking about. And that gossip was spread the most between old men who disguised their discussion as “concern” for the town. But more than that, it had taught you a lot about a certain man who had now become the head of your town.
As you were working the floor, Cory walked in, with his wife and little Hayden trailing right behind. You were immediately smiling at the little boy trying his hardest to jump into the vinyl seats of the booth. “Hey Cory.” You smiled, taking out your notepad. You weren’t exactly happy with the man driving Gator home drunk that time, but at least he had looked out for Gator. Which it seemed most of the deputies weren’t doing.
“Hey!” He broke out into his toothy smile, pulling Hayden up to the seat while the boy grunted in protest. “I didn’t know ya worked here.”
“Um, yeah.” You blushed, embarrassment flooding through you. “Gotta get a job while I’m here. Bills and all that.”
“Oh, I’m sure if you just went places with Sheriff Tillman, you wouldn’t have t’ pay for a single thing in this town, honestly.” His wife, May, chimed in. She meant no harm but everything in you tensed. First, being reminded that Sheriff Tillman meant Gator now, and the idea of always having his name spoken in the same breath as yours.
“Thanks, but I’m fine.” You gritted.
“Hayden, you remember Mr Tillman right?” You couldn’t avoid it. That’s how everyone in this town knew you. It was like the seventeen years of life you’d spent here before that didn’t even matter.
“Big Tillman or Little Tillman?” Hayden blinked, unassuming. Cory’s cheeks immediately went red at the exposure of what he called the Tillmans behind closed doors and he looked to you with pure fear flashing in his eyes. You only shook your head, because you would never tell Gator that truth. Mostly because you knew how much it would hurt his feelings.
“Little Tillman.” You answered. “But he’s a much bigger person than his daddy.” You had your problems with him, but that, especially after last night, you could admit.
“Right.” Cory laughed, cheeks flushing an even deeper red. “Well, this is his-”
“Friend.” You cut in. Cory and his wife stared at you for a long minute at those words, and you felt your heart sink. “It’s not like he’d understand the truth.” You shrugged. And besides, right now, the two of you were working towards friends. “What can I get you?” You whipped out your pen, trying to get the eyes off you. But before they could answer, you noticed that Hayden had hopped off the chair and slipped past you onto the crowded diner floor. Now, he was weaving through legs at a speed you didn’t know was possible, and you knew an accident was coming. Immediately, your reflexes kicked in, managing to quickly catch up to him right as he was about to crash into a customer.
You scooped him into your arms, resting him on your hip as he squealed a little in protest but didn’t fight. “Hayden.” You scrunched your eyes as if you were focusing really hard, so he matched your look. “You want to be a super spy, right?” You’d taken note of his James Bond shirt and your shot in the dark had stuck. Hayden nodded aggressively. “Then can we be on a secret mission and stay very still so the villains don’t notice us?” You pointed at a random table, almost feeling bad to rope them into your games. Hayden’s smile grew wide at the thought and he nodded, placing a tiny palm to his mouth to signal his silence. “Sorry about that.” You looked up to the woman who he had almost crashed into and froze when you noticed who it was.
Beth Marsh.
The girl that you spent the entirety of high school watching. The girl that you despised because you wanted to figure out how to be her. Floating through this town as if nothing ever bothered her, with far too many friends and even more boyfriends. She was a magnet, loved by parents and kids alike. And you never understood how.
Right now, she was eyeing you up and down in that familiar scrutinizing glare, but at this point you’d gotten use to the whole town’s eyes doing just the same. Quickly, though, she straightened up, a fake smile coming across her face as she gasped out your name in shock. “I can’t believe it. I heard you were back, but oh my goodness, look at you. You’re so…” She trailed off, clutching tighter to her purse, trying to find the kindest way to describe it. “Different! Like a real city girl.”
“I mean, Beth, I’m in a bright yellow Dave’s uniform. Don’t know if you can get much more Lehigh than that.” You smiled as best as you could, adjusting Hayden’s position on your hip as he fussed, watching Beth.
She looked at Hayden’s arms reaching out for her perfectly done hair and took a shocked step back. You could tell she certainly didn’t have a kid yet. “Is this your…youngest?” The pause did all the heavy lifting in that sentence, judgement seeping into the silence.
“Oh!” You laughed loudly. “Oh, no.” At this point, Hayden was poking your face in boredom so you gave Beth a polite nod. “He’s Cory’s kid over there. Better get him back.” You were half relieved that she wouldn’t have more time to analyze you, and take the gossip back to the same group of girls from school that she was probably still friends with.
But she only trailed behind, still talking your ear off. You swore she didn’t used to be this chatty. “How is your daughter then? Well, I mean she must be happy to see her dad again and have the ranch and all.” You only nodded, trying to pull Hayden off your hip and settle him in the booth, but he was clinging to you.
“Hayden, don’t run again.” Cory scolded, trying to pry him from your arms. “No, Daddy!” He curled into your shoulder. “Want Mrs Tillman. She’s fun.” All four of you stilled at what he’d called you.
You swallowed back what felt like something close to tears, and whispered in Hayden’s ear, feigning seriousness. “You remember our mission, right?” Hayden smiled. “Well if you sit down with Daddy, mission control might send you a secret surprise food.”
“What kind of surprise?” He pulled back, pushing his eyebrows together and looking at you.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise now, would it?” He looked at you for a long moment, chewing on his lip before nodding, and settling next to Cory again.
“Thank you.” Cory whispered out in relief. “You’re really good with him.” You shrugged. “Practice. This is the age where you have to turn everything into a game.” You could remember all the ones you had to play with Eden to get her to do basic things. “They wanna do everything on their own too, even though they can’t.” You chuckled.
“Yeah, well.” May smiled fondly to Cory, shaking his shoulder. “Sometimes that never changes.”
“Amen.” Beth added, and you were reminded of her presence. “My husband, Andy, is just the same. They can be so stubborn sometimes.”
It took everything in you to stifle your gasp. “Andy? Like Andy from the marching band?” Surely you were mistaken. As cruel as it was, you had always thought that she would marry one of the footballers. Honestly, before you got pregnant, you were sure of exactly which one it would be too. But you were discovering again and again that people could surprise you. And how many irrational judgements you kept jumping to.
Beth nodded, the pride radiating off her. “He helped me with car trouble a few years back and well…comin’ up on two years o’ marriage now.” She didn’t even hesitate to pull out her phone and start showing you pictures. Despite not being able to wrap your head around it, they truly did look like the happiest family. So did Cory, May and Hayden. Sometimes, it felt like it was just you who couldn’t get it right.
“I always thought it’d be you and Gator.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. You don’t know what you expected any of them to say but it wasn’t the reaction you ended up getting.
“Gator?” Beth gasped out a laugh. The three of them exchanged a look like they were best friends who were sharing some intimate inside joke, and broke into laughter almost in unison. There was a good few seconds where you just stood there, completely lost as they kept sputtering out chuckles like they were in disbelief. “Honey,” Beth finally spoke. “’S a well known fact around here that no woman is gettin’ anywhere near that one.” You knew why you wouldn’t, but to everyone else in this town, most of that stuff was normal. And it hadn’t stopped anyone in high school.
“Why?” You cocked your head to the side. There was silence for a moment, and they all just stared at you. And those looks were the silent answer that you’d never thought you’d hear. You. Actually, technically, you still hadn’t heard it, which is why you were able to quickly send Beth off to a table and take Cory’s order as if the thought that Gator Tillman — the Gator Tillman, who could have anyone he wanted — hadn’t talked to another woman in nine years wasn’t going to haunt you forever.
You broke right back into your useless habit that very shift, hiding out in the kitchen as you played the next voicemail in the loop.
16 years old.
“Know your probably grounded for the whole sneaking out to the scrapyard thing but…I just…” He sighed dramatically. “Look, y’ know I’m not good with words but- I don’t know, I mean, last night felt kinda…Like, it just hit me that maybe that was your first time, and I really wish I made it-” He took a deep breath, trying to stabilize his wavering voice. “Ok, I’m just gonna say it. Know we’ve been friends for a long time, but last night felt right to me. And I think- I’d like to do it again, ‘f you’d like to do it again. Or we could just…forget about it. It’s totally up to you, y’know? I don’t care- I mean, I do but I just- I want us to be good- I-” His distinct, dramatic gulp echoed through the speaker. “…Call me back when y’ can.” That one always made you blush, that same feeling of butterflies flitting in your stomach. He sounded so flustered and you knew he only got that way when he actually cared about something. He told you once, later, that he was always amazing at being confident when he had to lie but telling the truth was a lot harder. You never asked about it again, but you always noticed it, because Gator was almost always lying, even when he wasn’t aware of it.
A whistle from inside the diner grabbed your attention and you quickly snapped up, stuffing your phone in your pocket. Jessica walked over, her teeth flashing bright against her red lipstick. “You’ve got customers askin’ after you.” She nodded towards Cory’s family, who had finished up their meal and the special curly fries you’d given Hayden as his reward. What you forgot about this town is, that just as quickly as people spread around rumours and secrets that turned everyone against you, people became friends instantly too. “Thanks.” But just as you were about to step away, you paused. “Hey, can I ask you something?” She smiled back at you, so sweet in that way you knew would melt any man. Which is why you couldn’t stop your curiosity. “When we were here on the fourth- Well, Gator must come here often-“ No matter how much you were embarrassing yourself, you simply had to know. What you’d heard earlier simply couldn’t be true. “I guess I’m asking, have you two ever-“ Jessica cut you off with the same exact laugh that the others had let out.
“Don’t have to worry ‘bout me. Or anyone really.” Your entire body released and tensed in one. She gave you a smug smirk. “Guess Dave owes me twenty bucks.” “What?”
“We had a bet runnin’ how long it’d take you guys to patch it up. Seein’ as well…” She indicated between the two of you. “And your shiny ring is gone. So I won!” With a triumphant giggle, she turned away before you could argue and you were left with your head absolutely spinning. You glanced down at your hand and suddenly remembered something. Your ring against the formica of your mother’s kitchen counter. Was it awful that you knew you weren’t bringing it back?
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
The car engine hummed quietly as you drove home after your shift. Cory and May had practically begged you to babysit Hayden tomorrow so they could have the night out. You couldn’t say no to the extra money, and besides, you were kind of happy to help. You could see it in their eyes — the sleepless nights, no rest, no peace. You remembered what that baby phase felt like. Even before the baby was born. Coincidentally, you were reliving it right now. Because instead of some music for the drive home, the bluetooth in the car was playing Gator’s 17 year old voice.
“Hi.” There was an extended beat of silence. “I…Running away earlier probably wasn’t the best move. It’s just…Shit. It’s a lot.” He exhaled loudly. “I dunno if you told your parents yet, but, you should come over for dinner with Dad. We can talk proper then.” He chuckled. “I mean, hell, this woulda happened anyway, right? It was always gonna be you. ’S just…early. I’ll see you tonight.”
You remembered every bit of that dinner.You’d attempted to have the discussion with your mother earlier in the day so that at least she would be there. It wasn’t an hour later that your father was storming home from work, screaming the house down. You had managed to lock yourself in your room and snuck out the window so you could make it to the ranch. Alone. That’s when you really thought about the fact that you pretty much did everything in that house alone. And even if you did get rid of the kid, like your dad wanted, things were never going to be okay between the three of you. It probably never had been. So when Roy had offered you a comfortable home, the security of being a Tillman, and Gator had looked at you with those hopeful eyes as he squeezed your hand, how could you say no? You thought you’d have a support system. You thought you’d have that ever elusive thing called a family. And the first few years, however stressful they were, had really felt like that.
You pressed the play button on the next voicemail as you turned down the street that lead to the ranch.
19 years old.
“Hey, baby. Tried y’ a few times. You showerin’ Eden?” That was about a three hour task. “Listen, don’t hate me, but I forgot watcha wanted me to buy. I’ve got…” You heard the rattle of him pushing around thing in a shopping cart as he listed off the extensive amount of food he’d gotten. Eden had been in that time where she was incredibly picky about the food she ate, and her tastes changed every hour. “Oh! And I found a paint set here for a bargain. The mantle could use a nice decoration y’know, maybe you can start that on the weekend? Anyways, I know it was somethin’ for Edie but I ran over the list in my head a hundred times and I can’t remember. Don’t start with me on writin’ it down again, this is a one time thing, okay?”
You laughed now, hearing his incredulous tone. Gator used to be a very focused person. He got given a task and he was after that goal and that goal only. But when it came to Eden, he became something else entirely. The first time you had gone shopping before you even had her, he had practically cleared out the baby aisle, claiming you wouldn’t know what she’d be interested in so it was better to be safe than sorry. And though he wouldn’t tell another soul this, he used to be the one to pick out Eden’s clothes, claiming that that pink onesie would look perfect on her and this yellow dress would be great for church. It had gotten to the point where you had to ban him from going shopping so he wouldn’t blow all his money on spoiling her rotten.
You hadn’t noticed how hard you were smiling as you thought about it until you opened the front door, and it dropped. There, in the living room, sat Gator and Eden, across from Roy’s brother John, Karen, and a man and woman in suits that you didn’t recognize. Office types. Lawyers.
As you shut the door behind you, they all turned at the sound. Worse than seeing these people here was seeing the looks on each of their faces. Karen and John shared that same knowing smile while Gator and Eden looked distraught. “What’s going on?” You asked, moving to sit on the arm of Gator’s seat. Your breath stilled as he began to explain that Karen and John were here with their lawyer because the contesting claim was officially being taken to court. The woman was someone Gator had hired, because, regardless of your feelings, you still needed a lawyer to get through this process. And for the millionth time since you’d been here, you were thinking about how much you despised Roy for putting you in this position. For years, you thought you would never see this place again, and then you did. And now, it did feel a little strange that this home, that Gator and Eden had spent the last month fixing together, was now going to vanish from view again. As the the group got up to leave, Karen turned to you with a snarl. “I’m gonna tear this place down, anyways, don’t get too attached.”
“Ok.” You shrugged, pretending not to notice Gator’s exhale at your words. You didn’t care about this house anymore. You didn’t. You didn’t. You didn’t. As the lawyer lady began to talk about what the next steps were, you excused yourself to make some coffee for everyone. It was much easier to focus your energy on that than the way your body was being torn in two directions. You served the coffee, then began to sweep the house, organize the shoes at the front door, head upstairs and start scrubbing the bathrooms. Anything but think about how your family was going to be changed after this. Anything but wonder what Eden was going to decide to do.
You didn’t need to wonder.
Once the lawyer had left, you returned downstairs. Gator and Eden, of course, both had a look in their eyes. One that told you everything. Even before Eden cleared her throat. “Mom?” She fiddled her thumbs. “Can we please talk?” You cautiously seated yourself across from them, swallowing. You were going to have to talk about this eventually. Eden glanced to Gator for a moment and he nodded encouragingly, hope sparkling in his eyes as he clutched onto some sort of paper in his hands. “I want to stay.” She said, straightening up.
You took a deep breath, trying not to explode. “Ok, I know it’s nice having Gator here, but what about all your friends in Chicago? And you’re about to start high school, you already had everything prepared.”
“Exactly. I’ve made friends here and I have Tom. Only Will would have gone to the same school as me.” She was already using past tense, like Chicago was some distant memory. Like all those years you’d worked your ass off to get her away from this town’s problems meant nothing. “And I can always call or text them.”
“And have ‘em over whenever she wants.” Gator added. You shrunk further back into your seat.
“I get that. I do. But…this is a huge decision. What about our house? I have a job to think about.” You and Gator made eye contact then, your skin burning at the lie he could see right through. The worst thing was, you expected him to look at you with that stupid, self-satisfied glint in his eye. And sure, there was a hint of that. But mostly, it was pity.
“I know, Mom. But maybe you could get a transfer? And Dad promised he’d fix the WiFi so you could work remotely.” Your stomach dropped. They’d talked about this. Spent God-knows-how-long bonding over how stubborn Mom was being. You were trying to be rational, but your desire to leave was seeming purely selfish the more Eden and Gator began to gang up on you. You were starting to feel like a child, throwing a fit because things weren’t happening exactly how you wanted.
And they were doing it again — looking at you with those eyes. At this point, you were sure the pair of them could convince a saint to kill someone. Well, knowing the Tillmans, Gator might have already done that. Which is why you didn’t want Eden here. Although, in all the time you’d been here, you hadn’t heard or seen Gator committing half the crimes Roy did. What would Eden even find if she inherited this land? And there was still the matter of if she would inherit this land. “Karen and the court case?” “I’m payin’ for the whole thing. And besides, the lawyer said their case was real weak.” So everything was pretty much up to you. Great.
Staying here meant at least four more years of townsfolk whispering, and facing people you thought you’d put far in your past, And worst of all, risking Eden seeing everything that made Lehigh the hellhole you’d been trying to run away from. Gator was fine for now, but what if it was all an act to get Eden back here? What if he became the monster that you always feared? And Malcolm? What about the wedding? The house you dreamed of? With him, there was none of this uncertainty. With him, it was the stability you’d never had here.
But if you left, what happened? As much as you hated to admit it, this visit had changed things. Gator and Eden were becoming the father and daughter that they once were. Something you hadn’t realized you missed until you came back here. You hadn’t seen her glowing this bright in a long time. And the thought of this house being torn down did sting. You glanced behind you to the mantle. On top of it, sat your painting of the old scrapyard.
“I’ll think about it.” You pursed your lips, fists balling into the fabric of your uniform.
“Oh! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mom. I love you.” After Eden gave you a big hug, and an even bigger kiss in gratitude, she rushed up the stairs to call Tom.
You and Gator just stared at each other, the quiet wrapping tight around your throat. Choking. “What’s that?” You nodded to the envelope still held in his hands, trying to stop the pulsing in your head. “Uh, letter from my dad. Apparently, it got lost with…everything goin’ on.” You couldn’t distract yourself for more than a moment, because it led back to the same thing. The thing that was splitting you in two. “I-“ Gator finally spoke, eyes focused on his own hands as he wrung them back and forth. “It’s nothin’ personal, Dove. Just think it’s what’s best for Eden.”
You look down at your hands, picking at your nails. “I know.”
That made it so much worse.
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
That night, you all ate dinner in a searing silence, Malcolm absolutely ignorant to it. He kept talking about a new client of his and you all nodded response, because it was much easier than acknowledging your issues. You didn’t look Gator in the eyes, Eden didn’t look at you, and Gator pretended his food was the most interesting thing in the world.
“Alright, what’s going on?” Malcolm threw his fork down in frustration. “None of you have said a word for ten minutes, and that is very rare.” He nudged Eden jokingly.
You shook your head. “Nothing’s wrong, Malcolm. Don’t be silly.” He didn’t need to hear about any of it until you made your decision. There was no point in more people worrying about things that might not even happen. The other two hummed in affirmation.
At least you could agree on one thing.
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
The next night, you went over to Cory’s house, bags packed with some old toys of Eden’s, that actually belonged to Gator once upon a time. Some wooden cars that he had kept in his room even as a teenager. You always used to tease him about that, though you secretly loved that he had that hidden sentimental side. And though he initially protested that those were “boy’s toys,” when he had seen Eden playing with them, he had just about melted.
Cory and May began ranting at you manically, checking of Hayden’s routines, allergies, likes, dislikes and everything between. You couldn’t help but smile at the way they were basically shivering as they said goodbye to Hayden. The desperation of wanting peace for a night but being terrified of leaving their kid with a stranger was something all too familiar to you.
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
22 years old.
You inspected yourself in the mirror, tucking back a strand of loose hair. Your eyes were slightly puffy and you hadn’t even started your night shift yet. You had to do good. You couldn’t afford another day without money. The emergency cash you’d snatched from Gator’s safe was shrinking and you were starting to doubt that you could do this. But you were in too deep now.
“Ok.” You turned to the babysitter, attempting to shake away the nervous energy. “Her bedtime’s at 8, so after that you shouldn’t have many problems, just keep an ear out. Sometimes, she wants to sleep in my room. Just let her if she asks, for tonight.” The babysitter nodded along to your nervous ranting. “Dinner’s on the table. If you’re still hungry, take anything from the cupboards, though there’s not that much. Sorry. She was a bit sick last week so give her the cough medicine if she needs it.” You glanced to Eden, who was playing with some Barbies on the floor, blissfully unaware of the way your gut was twisting inside you. “Maybe I should stay.” You sighed. You had never left her alone at night before. Actually, you’d never used a babysitter before at all.
“Relax.” The woman smiled. “I’ve got it.” You had to trust her.
You crouched down next to Eden. “Honey, I’m going out for a bit, ok?”
“Is Daddy gonna come?”
“No, baby. Amy here is going to take care of you. Be good for me, yeah?” She nodded, still just playing with her Barbies. “I love you so much, ok hon?” You kissed her cheek.
“Ok. Bye Mommy.”
You were shaking as you shut the door behind you.
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
Eden made it through that night, and plenty of other just like it until you got a better job. “You know, kids are a lot tougher than you think.” You tried to give them a little comfort.
Cory smiled as they stepped out of the door. “I used to freak out cause the kid wouldn’t sleep properly. And that’s exactly what the sheriff said t’ me.”
He left you with those words that made your gut twist.
You wondered how much it stung for Gator. To be around kids, and give others advice when he hadn’t seen his own child in years. You couldn’t imagine a day going by without Eden by your side, and you were struggling with the slightest distance she was currently putting between you. You understood her completely. They wanted to know each other again. And everything in you was sorry that you had to take them away from each other. You didn’t regret your decision, but you wished it didn’t have to hurt in so many ways.
Still, you had to remind yourself that staying would have stung a lot more.
Once you’d fed Hayden his dinner, he wanted to play on his own in the living room. So you settled yourself back on the sofa, watching carefully, but placing an earphone in. You knew you shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The next few were all from the same time. The night you left. Eden in the backseat, your phone ringing again and again till you had to mute it. You didn’t call him back for over a month, because you knew you’d give up and turn around at the sound of his voice.
22 years old.
“Dove? What the fuck is this? Y’ can’t be serious.” You could hear him rummaging through the house, like you were just playing hide and seek and he’d find you hidden behind some cupboard or under the bed.
“Answer your damn phone, woman! You’re being ridiculous. You can’t just take my daughter and leave!”
“Ok, I don’t know what sort of temper tantrum you’re havin', but you need to come back here right fuckin’ now. You stole my damn car, I can find you, y’know? Dad can find you.” That last sentence sounded far more like a warning than a threat.
In the next one, his voice was shaking, deafeningly quiet compare to the rest. “Seriously, baby, just come home, ok? We can- We can work out whatever this is. Together. I won’t even be mad. Just don’t take my family away from me.”
Hayden’s scream tore you right back into reality. He was furious because one of Gator’s wooden firetrucks was missing the ladder and his fireman couldn’t reach the top of the dollhouse. You distinctly remembered seeing it when you were gathering the toys, but you’d dragged them from Eden’s closet all the way downstairs in your hands, so maybe it had fallen.
You hadn’t been around a little child in a long time, and you made the biggest mistake possible. You told the truth. “Oh, I must’ve left it at home.” You murmured. But that was enough. Hayden began demanding that you go get it. You tried everything. You offered him other toys, tried to bribe him with ice cream, told him it didn’t matter because it was time to get ready for bed. But he was dead set on getting that ladder. How was the cat meant to be rescued otherwise? And when you took it off the house and started packing down the toys, he began crying about how you wanted the cat to get hurt and you were mean. You ran around for almost an hour, trying to find something to calm him down.
And eventually, you relented. It was way past his bedtime, and you just needed to get him to sleep. But he refused until that cat came down the right way. You pulled out your phone, dialing the last person you wanted to, but the only one you could.
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
The knock came fifteen minutes later.
Gator took one look at you and raised his eyebrows. “Fun night?”
“The funnest.” You sighed, stepping back so he could enter.
“Hey, kid.” He crouched next to Hayden. “Got a little surprise for ya.” When he pulled out the little wooden ladder, Hayden jumped, snatching it from his hand immediately. And when he’d got that goddamned little cat down, you and Gator let out the same breath of relief. “‘K bud, you gonna go to sleep now?” Hayden nodded, a satisfied grin on his face. You got up, ready to help him to sleep but Gator pushed you back down to the couch. “I got it.” You let him take the lead but still followed, because, well, even then, you had done most of the nighttime routines and actually taking care of Eden. Especially if he, at any point, knew Roy was around. But surprisingly, he was incredibly good. Teeth brushed, pajamas changed, and soon enough, Hayden was settled in bed, begging Gator to read a bedtime story.
As he picked out one of Hayden’s picture book, you couldn’t stop yourself. “You sure that one’s not too big for you?”
He only scrunched his nose, cocking his head to the side with a little smirk. “Oh y’ think you’re so funny.”
“She isfunny.” Hayden absentmindedly reached for the book out of Gator’s hands as he spoke. You puffed your chest out, victorious. It reminded you of all the times you’d challenge each other to who was Eden’s favorite. It used to be a joke. “Wanna see.” Hayden squirmed, trying to get a view of the pictures from where Gator sat. With a nod, he tried to fit himself in the tiny bed, his legs hanging off the end completely. Your heart just melted seeing it.
After about three “just one more” stories, and a long few minutes of promising you’d wake him up once his parents got home, the kid finally, finally went to sleep.
You and Gator collapsed back on the couch with sweet relief.
“Thank you for coming, Gator. Sorry for ruining your night off.” He shook his head, not saying a word but you could read it in his eyes. He didn’t mind. “You were amazing tonight.” The surprise tinted your tone completely.
And Gator noticed it, scoffing a little. “I remember Eden’s whole nighttime routine y’know? Like every book we’d read to her.” You jaw tensed hearing that. It was easy to forget just how exhausting a three year old was because you had plenty more years with Eden washing that away. He didn’t. You simply nodded and turned away, unable to keep looking at him.
Neither of you thought about what happened next. He was reaching for the television remote and flipping through the channels until he landed on a random drama running on the ABC. He stretched his arms with a grunt, placing them on the back of the couch. You couldn’t stop the smile.
“What?”
“You are such a dad.” You shook your head. He didn’t say anything, his own smile creeping across his face as you both turned back to the TV. The show droned on — doctors flirting in one room while their patient bled out in the other and you and Gator were laughing along to the nuisance. The peaceful air drifted into your lungs with each deep breath you took and you could smell the cookies in the oven that you used to make the two of you as a reward for getting Eden down.
And it was just when your head lolled back, not quite touching Gator’s arm but close enough to feel its warmth, and yours eyelids felt heavy, that the sound came. Hayden’s shrill shriek tore through the house, snapping you to attention. You turned to Gator, sharing the idea immediately. You’d been through this about a million times at minimum.
“Wanna go for a drive?” His eyes creased up in as close to a smile as his tired face could get.
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
The car hummed slowly as the three of you rolled through the quiet streets of Lehigh. It wasn’t even that late, but aside from the seedy criminals and washed out alcoholics, everyone was tucked away safe and sound in their beds. After some whining and protesting, Hayden had finally gone down out of pure boredom.
As you turned back onto Cory and May’s street, you shifted a little. “Maybe just a little longer? Just to make sure he’s really asleep?” Hayden was almost too old to need the trusty old method, so you knew it would be even harder to get him back in the house without waking him up.
Gator nodded, rolling past their driveway. “He doesn’t have anythin’ on Eden, though. That girl cried so hard, I swear they could hear it across the whole ranch.”
“Think it was the whole county.” You chuckled, somehow, remembering the torturous nights. The many, many drives just like this one. They felt like the end of the world at the time, and maybe it was wrong, but you were glad that you had someone to go through it with you.
You swallowed. “You know…I did this with her till she was like seven. I know that’s way too old but there were some nights where she just refused to sleep, and so I’d tell her we were going out on an adventure, put on that… ‘Swan Princess’ CD-”
“It wasn’t a-”
“Yes, I know there were other stories on it but that’s the only one she listened to.” You anticipated the same thing he used to say every time you called it that, in a desperate hope to convince Eden of the same. “I’d just drive her around till the exhaustion washed out the excitement.” You saw Gator’s grip tighten on the wheel. “She used to ask if we were coming back to Lehigh for our adventure. Think the whole thing reminded her of you.” It reminded me too. That might have been the first time you voluntarily offered up how hard it had been without him at first. You weren’t even sure why. It could’ve been this drive reminding you of different times, the repetitive boredom of driving around, or Gator’s vanilla and sandalwood scent hitting your nose, but you were ready to say just about anything.
Honestly, you were starting to get how babies fell asleep like this.
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
16 years old.
“We’re gonna get caught.” You whispered, as Gator squeezed through a hole in the wired fence of the scrapyard. He had called you past midnight, begging you to come out with him because he needed a distraction. Sometimes, he did that unprompted and you never found it in yourself to say no. So you’d slipped out the window and met him at the end of your street. You thought he’d take you to a bar with his fake ID or something.
“Oh, would ya relax? Live a little.” He reached through the hole, extending a hand to you. With a roll of your eyes, you slapped it away and squeezed through to the other side yourself.
As your feet landed on the dirt, your hand brushed a stack of metal parts, toppling them down. The ding echoed through the night making both of you shit yourselves. You stayed silent for a long moment, waiting to see if anyone ran along. “‘F you’re so careless, ‘course we’re gonna get caught.” He chuckled. Your eyes went wide as he just continued along, confidently walking out into the open air.
“I’m serious, I’ll never see the light of day again.” You hissed, keeping your feet firmly planted where you stood.
He didn’t even turn around, a clear mission in mind. “Ok. Go home if you want.” He was bluffing, you knew it. But then, so were you. You looked down to your feet and then back up again. In that time, he vanished.
“Gator?” Your voice shook, mind immediately racing to the worst outcomes. Had a security guard found him? Or worse, some sort of criminal? “Gator?!” You tried louder, speeding to where he had been just moments ago. As you turned past a stack of crushed up cars, you let out a breath. He was standing in front of a car, a smirk on his face.
“Aw, you got a little scared ‘bout me?” You rolled your eyes as hard as you could and gave him a light shove. “Don’t worry, I overheard Dad say the security here was awful. Wanted to see ‘f he was right.” Ah. So that’s why he came here. Push the limit simply because he could. “And why was your dad talking about the scrapyard’s security?” You followed him as he shuffled over to another car pulling at all its handles too. Still no luck, getting one to open.
“I dunno. Some case.” He shrugged, tugging at the backdoor of a car to see if it would open.
“Don’t tell me we’re on an active crime scene right now!” You squeaked just as Gator managed to find an unlocked car. He pulled open the back door with a triumphant grunt.
“Nah. Nothin’ like that. ’S a…place o’ interest.” Without another word, he climbed into the backseat, shuffling to leave space for you. “You coming in?”
You sighed, but didn’t even hesitate for half a second before slipping right in next to him. You shut the door behind you, leaving both of you in the tight air of the dusty old car. You didn’t really mind, especially when his hand brushed yours on the middle seat.
“Gator?” You turned to him and he only hummed in response. “Why’d you call me here tonight?” Your eyes dropped to the seat, as his pinky crept over yours. Immediately, you felt your stomach flip, cheeks getting warm.
“Wanted to see you,” was all he responded. Though lately, his hands had been doing more of the talking. Always lingering somewhere close, like he was ready to take something he hadn’t even asked for yet.
Something about tonight gave you the confidence you so rarely had to finally just come out with the truth. You leaned a little closer, savoring the feeling of Gator’s hand on yours. “That all you wanted?”
His lips tugged upwards, a smile appearing on his face for just a second. A real one, not a victorious smirk. His hand slipped away from yours and your heart skipped a beat, thinking that maybe you’d misread everything. And strangely, your thoughts didn’t drift to the fact that you’d never see Gator again after this. That was never going to be a reality. You were only scared that he was going to tease you for flirting with him and that you’d never live it down.
But he didn’t.
Instead, his hand raised into the air to cup your cheek, pulling you even closer until you were basically sharing your breaths. The smile on his face had faded but was replaced with something else. Devotion, you might have called it then.“You are not fucking real.” He breathed. When you looked into his eyes — all blown wide as he slid his thumb along the lines of your face — it was like you could see the entire world there. A world you so desperately wanted to be a part of.
You closed the gap.
And that was all the permission either of you needed. The kiss quickly grew desperate, your mouth opening for him as his hands wandered up and down your body, sending shivers through you.
When his hands started pulling at your clothes, you let him slip them off. You’d wanted this for so long, but it was terrifying that Gator was going to see you. All of you. You weren’t even sure he was really looking though, his lips painting marks up your neck as he quickly fumbled with his cargos. It was desperate. Like years of waiting had pushed you both over the edge. Needing each other.
And God, it was awkward and chaotic and yet somehow, beautiful. You’d been in love with this boy since you’d met him, even if you hadn’t realized it back then. So this moment was simply…inevitable. Meant to be. It was like after years of circling this unspoken feeling, you were crashing into the sun. Burning hot and bright and pulling you in far beyond your control.
But you would gladly let yourself lose control when it was Gator you were doing it with.
And after, in the dark backseat of an abandoned car, the two of you just took each other in. Relieved to be facing a truth that had been hidden for a long time.
But much like everything else in your life, the moment was taken from you.
You had been so lost in each other, that you hadn’t heard the rumble of a car nearby. Or footsteps approaching. It was only when the white light beamed through the window and onto your faces that you both turned. There, looming above you with his mouth hanging open, was Roy.
You both rode home in the back of a cop car, Roy going off about Gator’s stupid decision and how he shouldn’t have dragged you down with him. You couldn’t bring yourself to even think about the trouble you were in, stealing glances at Gator every few seconds. You were so exhausted from the night, that your mind began to drift, and you dozed off with your head against the window, daydreaming about what tomorrow meant.
“Dove?” You woke to someone shaking your shoulder. “‘We’re home.”
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
Your blinked your eyes open, realizing that voice wasn’t from your memories. “Did I fall asleep?” You rubbed your eyes clear so you could see Gator again. There was a flash as you were coming back into the real world, where the sixteen year old version of him was staring back at you with those same eyes you could see the world in. Your eyes adjusted quickly, noticing you were already back at the ranch.
“Don’t worry. They didn’t get ya in trouble for sleepin’ on the job.” He handed you a small envelope, with the cash they promised you and you felt your cheeks grow red because he had done half the job for you. You told yourself it was because of that. And not the way your memories had reminded you of a part of Gator you swore to forget. The one that, as you took the envelope out of his hands, and your fingers brushed, caused your stomach to do flips just like back then.
.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
Time in Lehigh seemed to move weirdly. This was a place frozen in the olden days. Technology was like a swear word in these parts that you didn’t dare utter, wives and husbands had a reputation that would be torn to shreds if they dared to step out of line, townsfolk spent their days yearning for the old America on a side of the war that this state wasn’t even fighting.
And yet, since you’d been here, the days had sped by you. You could’ve sworn it was just yesterday that you were pulling into this place, committed to leaving the very next morning. You could’ve sworn it wasn’t a moment ago that you were swearing up and down that Eden would live without remembering what sunset in this town looked like. Well then, how did you end up where you were tonight?
The clouds stretched tight across the horizon, yellows and oranges bleeding across it beautifully as the sun sunk low in the sky. Eden, to your credit, wasn’t outside watching it, so you guess you could say you won. Except you were the one shifting your car into park and entering the brick building that Lehigh called a rec center. Because tonight was the night of Eden’s play. It had snuck up on you so suddenly, and you were realizing the proposed summer getaway had almost come to an end.
That meant you had to make your decision soon.
Inside, black plastic chairs were lined neatly on the wood, the main stage a barely raised floor in front of which were tightly drawn red curtains. You scanned the room, eyes settling on Gator right at the front, who had come straight from work. Yes, two months ago, Lehigh and subsequently, Gator, were thoughts that floated in the very depths of your brain. But now, you were sitting in the front row of your daughter’s play together. Jesus Christ, how ridiculously domestic of you. It struck you then that this was the exact way you used to dream your life would be like before you realized what marriage to a Tillman actually meant. And back then, well, you hadn’t exactly imagined another man, sitting on your other side. You kicked yourself the moment you thought it. Another man? This wasn’t just another man, this was Malcolm. Your fiancé. The two of you would attend plenty of Eden’s plays together in the future. Without Gator. And then, looking to your side, seeing Gator’s eyes carefully scan the cheaply made program and quietly point out Eden’s name in the cast list, you were kicking yourself for thinking that. Time moved strangely in Lehigh, but one thing didn’t change. Coming here completely and utterly screwed you over.
The drawl of the motor curtains opening as they switched off the lights took your attention to the front of the room. You could at least have two hours where you weren’t in your brain, watching your daughter on stage. And out of your brain you were, as they recited old Shakespeare lines that none of you understood. But one thing you did know, was that Eden was amazing. Even when you didn’t understand her words, every single emotion her character was feeling leaped out at you. You dared to sneak a glance to see Gator’s reaction. His eyes were wide, flicking intently from left to right as she moved across the stage. They didn’t move from her once, even following the tiny movements she made with her hands or her feet.
As the play finished, and the cast bowed, everyone began to clap. And it wasn’t quiet, but it sure sounded it when you heard the man next to you. Gator sprung to his feet, clapping his hands so hard they were going red. He was so absorbed in it, not even paying mind to everyone else’s judgemental looks. You’d never seen him glow with so much pride. Over a community play. And then Eden smiled at him, both of them speaking a silent conversation right there. Apologies, promises and everything else flowed between their eyes. You felt like an intruder, watching it unfold. But you weren’t upset. You only had one thought.
I want to see them like this everyday.
.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
After the play, Gator, being Gator, had managed to get the keys to the ice cream parlor so the entire cast could have a party there. You raised your eyebrows at his willingness to spend a whole night with a group of sugar high teenagers, but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Not when Eden was jumping up and down and leaping into his arms in gratitude.
So it was just you and Malcolm on the way home, the car filled with the energy you just could not contain. The two of you had gone out to dinner and back and you still hadn’t shut up.
“Wasn’t she amazing?” You almost bounced in your seat, hands flailing.
“She was.” Malcolm chuckled. “But please put your hands back on the wheel, I don’t want to die.”
And just then, the bluetooth in your car rang out. It was Eden. “Speak of the devil.” You smiled as if you were not always speaking of her. You clicked the answer button and let it pick up. At first, you could barely hear Eden over the sound of chatter in the background. “Mom! Hey.” She shouted and you could just about make out her voice.
“Yeah, hon, why are calling?” Your heart was doing that irrational thing where it started speeding up. She was at an ice cream parlor with a bunch of theatre kids and adult supervision, how much trouble could she get into?
“No, just- Yeah. I’m asking now.” She turned to someone passing her. Asking what? You prayed it was just something simple like staying out a bit later than curfew. But when had your life been simple? “Everyone wants me back for the winter play!”
“Winter play?” You and Malcolm let out in unison, so stunned that you almost missed the turn for the ranch. Since when did Stark County have such a vibrant arts scene?
“Yeah!” Eden continued, completely unbothered. “They said they want me for the lead lead this time!” She squeaked.
“Well, I don’t know, hon, won’t you have school then?” Away from here, please.
“The school is like a five minute walk from here. My friends and I can come straight here for the evening.” Malcolm slowly turned to you, eyes widening as he caught up to what she was insinuating. Your heart dropped to your feet. “Mom?” “Yeah, Eden, we’ll talk about it later, ok?” You hung up before she could say anything more.
You didn’t look at Malcolm, but you could feel his eyes boring into you, betrayal swimming in them.
“Babe…what is she talking about?”
You swallowed, already knowing this wasn’t going to be easy. “Malcolm, I had a really nice night tonight. Could we please just keep it that way till we get home?” Not that it mattered. You were already on the property. Like those few minutes would give you time to justify your stupid decision to keep this from him, know how to go about saying that your daughter wanted to stay in this middle-of-nowhere time capsule permanently. Malcolm was not the small town type, and what did that mean for the two of you? The car was quiet for a long moment as the tires rolled through the dirt, finally coming to a stop in front of the house. You looked at it — roof patched over with slightly mismatched tiles, a door that’s knob was far too modern compared to the rest of it. Weird, and wrong, and kind of home.
You turned to Malcolm, who was staring at you but not saying anything quite yet. Good. Silently, you slipped inside and straight up to your room, like the walls could protect you from the mess that you knew was about to unfold. Calmly, you sat yourself on the edge of the bed and looked up to where Malcolm stood, arms crossed.
“What the hell is going on?” He frowned.
You closed your eyes for a breath, trying to keep it together. “Eden-“ You exhaled. “Eden wants to stay here. Like, permanently.”
“And you said no?” He stepped slightly closer. You lack of answer was all the response he needed. He shook his head. “How long have you known?” “Few days now.”
“What the hell?” He threw his arms out, turning away from you. “We’re engaged, were you expecting me to move here?” “No! Of course not!” You knew that was way too much to ask.
“So you were expecting us to work long distance then? Or were you just going to cut me out of your life completely?” You furrowed your brows. What did he want you to say? “Answer me!”
“I didn’t say yes to staying either!” You sprung up, knowing how ridiculous you sounded. “I was only thinking about it because she and Gator asked me to.”
He exhaled through his nose. “Oh, Gator asked you to.” He shook his head. “And were you going to ask me what I thought?”
Your stomach twisted. You weren’t. You weren’t going to ask your own fiancé about this major life decision. “I-“
“You know I care about Eden too right?” “Of course I do.”
“So you were just going to take her away from me?” Your lip trembled. Not again. “No.” You breathed.
“So what was the plan?” You blinked, mouth open but no words falling out. He rolled his eyes at your lack of response. “Did you actually even think about any of this?” He pushed his fingers to his temple, leaning into your face. “God, do you ever think at all?”
Your chest cracked. “What’s that meant to mean?” “Gee, I don’t know.” He leaned back, the sarcasm dripping in his voice. “You got yourself pregnant at 17, ran away from any stability you had, then when you finally find someone to help you out, you come running back here where nobody wants you. I heard the rumors, and you know what, I’m starting to think they were right. You’re so selfish.” Your heart felt like it was shattering with each syllable. This is why you didn’t want him here. Want him knowing your real life. He was seeing the real you. And when he did, he was just like everyone else. Worst of all, maybe he was right. “Look at you, you’ve got nothing to say. You know I’m right.” He turned away from you again, reaching for his suitcase. No. No, he couldn’t leave.
“Malcolm, I don’t know why you’re acting like this.” You shakily reached for his arm and he shrugged you off.
“Because I’ve spent so much time on you.” He shot up so you couldn’t keep crowding his space. “I came all the way here. I neglected my job.”
“I never asked you to do that.”
“Oh, and if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have turned to Gator the first chance you got?” He spat.
“Of course not! Are you crazy?” You felt yourself starting to get dizzy at his words. Is that why he came all the way here? To make sure you didn’t cheat on him? And you had dared to think it was because he actually cared about you.
“So what’s going on?”
“I-” You sputtered, brain racing. What were you meant to say? “He’s the father of my child- What do you-”
“But it’s not just that! He’s everywhere I turn! Everything I hear!”
“Well, we haven’t seen him in nine years and we’re living in his home!”
“Yeah! That’s weird. You’re my fiancé. Did you forget that?” He pressed a finger so hard into his chest, you were sure he would bruise it. Your heart was speeding up, beginning to wonder if he’d bruise anything else. “Why is he here? Why is he living with you?”
Maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t think. “I don’t- Eden wants to reco-”
“Don’t bullshit me!”
“I’m not.”
“You fucked him. Just admit it.”
You choked up at the accusation. Sure, things had been complicated with Gator but never once had you acted on it. The words of the town were now being spouted from the mouth of the one person you thought you could trust. Stupid. Selfish. Slut. “No. We never-”
“Doesn’t matter. I can’t trust you. You’ve been lying to me about everything.” He began storming towards the bedroom door. You should’ve let him take a breath, but you couldn’t.
“Not everything! I didn’t want to tell you about my parents,” You stepped forward, steering him back inside. “But I never lied about how I feel about us.” You reached for his arm again, turning him to you. “I love you. I want you. I’ve never wanted Gator.”
“Liar!” There was a loud cracking sound as his fist met the wall. Mere inches from your face.
And just like that, you were thirteen years old again, watching your mother and father argue.
It never stopped with the wall.
You choked as if his hand had already found your throat, heart racing a mile a minute. Only one word was able to escape. “Leave.”
He looked at the hole he has just created, looked at you — frozen in place, trying to keep what little breath you had left. Exhaled, like he was still furious at you. And walked away.
You heard the front door slam shut but could barely register it over the ringing in your ears. Everything was distant. Your head spun, trying to keep you in this reality. The one where you were fine. You weren’t your mother. And yet, your body seemed to believe the opposite. Your legs gave way, your breaths went short. It was impossible to breathe when your memories had their feet pressed tight on your airway.
The front door opened again, and you heard Eden’s voice calling up. “Don’t mind us! Just popped in to get my purse.” When you didn’t respond, she called out for you. Again and again. You couldn’t say a word, completely lost in the chaos of your own body. Her voice blended into yours, screaming for your mom when you saw your father hit her.
Heavy footfalls came up the stairs and you recognized them even through this state.
Gator’s face was in front of yours. “Hey. ‘S going on?” You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe.
“Mom?” You wanted to respond to Eden’s frantic voice. You wanted to do anything.
“Are y’- I-”
“What’s going on? Is she ok? Mom?”
You heard their voices overlapping but you couldn’t focus on the movements. It was like the world was caving in beneath your feet. It was ending. It was all ending. Thirteen. Shouting. Fists. Your mother on the floor. You swore to yourself never again.
You swore you wouldn’t let your daughter go through the same thing. Fifteen. You yelling. Your father’s voice drowning it out. The first time he punched you.
“Need y’ to look at me. Look at me.” Sixteen. Dishes breaking. Blood. You used plastic from then on. It was never going to be ok. You’d fucked it all up. They were still fussing over you. You couldn’t even understand it. Look what you did. You made Eden worry. The more her voice shook, and called for you, the more your heart raced. At some point, Gator yelled something about “Go to your room!” And that just made your heart pound faster. Seventeen. Freedom. Independence. Finding out that no matter where you went, you couldn’t escape the violence. But then you felt a warmth on your arm. Gentle. The feet on your throat loosened a little. “Baby, calm down.” You couldn’t just calm down. “Just…fuck I don’t know. ‘M here.” He kept rubbing up and down your arm, and you tried to focus on the soft touch. Soft. You weren’t breaking. “You’re ok. You’re safe.” It was those words that made the hold finally release and you could breathe again. Slowly, air returned to your lungs. Your surroundings came back into focus. “You with me, Dove?” You nodded, swallowing thickly. He pulled you to your bed, eyebrows pressed together as he studied you like a foreign specimen. Once you were seated, with your head against the board, he hesitantly took his arms off you. “Gonna get you some water. Just…maybe lie down.”
Your voice had finally returned and you only wanted to do one thing. “I’m- I- Gotta apologize to Eden.” You’d already scared her. Not just scared, but scarred.
“Woah, woah.” He held an arm in front of you, stopping you from moving. “It’s ok. Y’ can take a second.” His eyes didn’t drift from the wall, jaw tense. “I’ll be back.” Then he left. So you were all alone, staring at the hole made in your wall that was, really, your fault.
You were back here again — thinking your deluded little fantasies of someone keeping you happy and safe would actually come true. It took you eight years to dare to trust someone again and this is where it landed you. Well, maybe that was the problem. You hadn’t trusted him all the way, had you? All the lies and fights were because of you. The decade you had spent trying to stop your daughter from feeling the same way you used to was all for nothing. She had just watched you fall apart without Malcolm even laying a hand on you. Try as you might, Malcolm was right, you were nothing but a scared little girl who was pretending she knew what she was doing. And Eden just saw through it. You were a failure.
Just then, you heard a voice from Eden’s room — gruff but low. “‘M sorry.” Gator was…apologizing? Yes, he had done it before. Rarely and usually far too late. “Shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, kiddo.” You slowly stood up, approaching the hall. You were like a newborn gazelle, finding your footing. You rested right near the door, careful not to alert them of your presence.
“It’s ok.” You heard her voice croak back. She’d been crying.
“No.” Gator stressed. “I was…scared for your mom, but shouldn’t have made that your problem.” You couldn’t believe how gently he was speaking. How his voice shook when he said he was scared for you.
“What happened to her?” God, she sounded so broken.
“Dunno.” He sighed. “We gotta look out for her, yeah?” Your heart clenched when you heard that.
“No.” You stepped into the room then and they both looked to you like you could break into a thousand pieces. “You don’t have to look out for me. Ok, hon?” You crouched down so you were meeting her eyes where she laid on the bed. “I’m your mom, I look after you.”
“Hey…” Gator tried to interrupt but you wouldn’t let him.
“I just got a little scared, ok? And I’m really sorry that it scared you too.” She shook her head. “Did Malcolm do that though? Did he hur-“ “No. No, no. I’m fine, hon. Just fine.” You were trying your best to smile. You would rather this than have her patch you up.
She sighed. “Mom-”
“I’m perfect.” You repeated. “Cause I have you.” You kissed the top of her head, praying that would get her to stop asking questions. “And your dad.” You turned to Gator, who only stared at you with a flat face as you took his hand in yours. “He was very good today.” They both gave you half-hearted smiles. “Now, I don’t want to be the one that cut your amazing night short, so do you want to grab that purse you were looking for and get out of here?” She opened her mouth to say something. “Honey, go celebrate. You know what, I’ll even push your curfew back a bit. Sound good?” A slow smile crept across her face and she nodded.
As Gator sent Eden off with Tom’s mother again, you retreated to the ensuite in your room. Though your panic attack had subsided, your body was still shaky and you weren’t sure you could face anyone that wasn’t family. Your hands gripped the edge of the sink for some stability, as you inspected yourself in the mirror. Obviously, you looked no different. Malcolm hadn’t even made contact with you, so why did your insides feel like they were being torn apart? You were never one to bruise easily, and you always hated that about yourself. It was sick, but there was a part of you that wanted it. Like maybe, if there was proof of the pain, it would make it okay to feel the way you did. And maybe, someone would notice.
“Hey.” You turned to see Gator leaned against the bedroom door, his hair flying loose and falling in front of his eyes. He looked as much of a mess as you felt. “How you feelin’?” You straightened yourself up, exiting out of the bathroom. “Fine.” “Perfect?” He looked accusatorially at you, and you didn’t say a word. “Y’ need to stop lying to her. Everyone.” You rolled your eyes, an exhale escaping from your nose as you sat back down on the bed. You didn’t need a lecture from him about how to deal with this. If he had it his way, he would probably tell her it was fine because you deserved it. His eyes drifted to the hole and he tapped his fingers against his thigh. “I wasn’t. Y’know…good today. Haven’t been.” You looked at his face, guilt swimming in his eyes. That was Roy’s voice you were hearing again. He shuffled in his place at the front door, unable to take his eyes off the hole. “Has that happened before?”
“No.” You couldn’t help the guilt you felt in your stomach. You were the one that drove him there, weren’t you?
“And your…” He finally ripped his gaze away to look at you. “Reaction?”
Your stomach turned slightly. Telling him about your family was hard enough, but telling him about how pathetically your body reacted to it was another deal. “Uh- It was just a panic attack.”
His eyebrows raised, foot lingering through the doorway. “You’ve had those before?”
“Oh, yeah. Used to get them a lot a few years ago.”
“When we were together?” You just nodded. At that, his entire face dropped. His foot finally hit the ground with a thud, entering your room again. “How did I never-“
“You weren’t home.” Which is exactly why you got them. Being anywhere near Roy, watching how Nadine became a shell of herself, seeing the reaction after she ran away. He blinked his eyes, like that movement would keep his body together. “Well how do you…I wanna be better next time. How do I help? Teach me how to help.” Next time. You weren’t sure whether it was worse if there was a next time, or the idea that you’d still be here. And you certainly didn’t acknowledge how the thought of having Gator there for you made it feel a bit easier. You simply patted the space next to you on the bed.
Gator hesitated for half a second, before taking his spot.
You used to sit like this a lot. His side of the bed and yours apparently still the exact same. You took a deep breath, trying to get the words out. To say this was uncharted territory was an understatement. Where would you start on teaching Gator about your mental health and how to deal with it. “Well, don’t tell me to calm down.” You chuckled. Part of you didn’t want to get to the serious stuff. But Gator nodded, already filing the information somewhere important. “I can struggle to talk sometimes but if you can, get me to try and count backwards from 100 or recite the alphabet.” He quirked his eyebrow. “I know it sounds silly. But when I’m panicking, it feels like I’m going to die. Even though I know I’m not.” Your throat felt thick even thinking about it again. Where you had been not even an hour ago. You were sure if Gator hadn’t seen it, he might be rolling his eyes at you too. “So something like that…sort of grounds you. You know?” You could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t quite understand, but he didn’t question or laugh. “If that doesn’t work, just try to remind me of happy things. And speak. You did…you did a good job. With what you said.” He nodded intently, looking to the side and mouthing the words quietly. It was kind of adorable. As a silence fell over you, you saw his knee shaking on the bed — impatient to ask something else, but not wanting to push. Taking a step back for once. “Yes, Gator?”
“But what can I do to stop it from happenin’?”
You laughed. “You can’t stop it, Gator.”
He looked at you like you were speaking a foreign language. “Yes, you can. If y’know why it happens, just stop it.”
You rolled your eyes. It was surprising to you that he had even been open to listening to this, so you had to be patient. “When I have a panic attack, it’s cause my body thinks I’m in danger. And a lot of the time, it’s when I remember things that made me scared. So if you find a way for me to forget that stuff, please let me know.”
Gator’s fist tightened on the sheet. “Wish I knew.” It was said behind a small laugh, like somehow any of this was funny. It split your heart in two. You knew Gator had been through all the same stuff you had. Actually, far worse. But he just carried it, pretending nothing was wrong. So how could he look at everything that happened to you any differently? If you had stayed in that house, and Eden had seen what Roy did. If Gator, even a tiny sliver of him, could be capable of doing the same, you would’ve regretted it far more than leaving, wouldn’t you? “If I could take it all back, I would.” He mumbled it behind a breath, so quiet you almost didn’t hear, but the words themselves were so loud it left your ears ringing. “How everything went down between us.” You turned to face Gator, watching the way his eyes were focused on you — searching, desperate to fix…well, everything. Fix everyone’s pain, fix things with Eden, fix your relationship with him.
Finally, he was seeing what it had meant for you to live on this ranch. And he was drowning in the thought that he had never noticed. Both of you struggling with the exact same pain, but too stubborn to admit it to each other. You were humiliated that you couldn’t just take it like everyone else you knew, and he was stuck under his father’s thumb. “You ever think…if we lived on our own, we would’ve made it?” Gator vocalized the thought that you had asked him all those years ago. And he’d just laughed.
“I don’t know, Gator.” Without Roy in your life, perhaps.
“Like to think we coulda been a family. You, me and Edie.” You could imagine it right now. A family supper that didn’t involve you and Nadine cooking for half of it while Roy sat at the table, picking apart every wrong thing that you two were doing. You not having to choke back tears seeing Nadine’s bruised up face, wondering if tonight would be the night Gator snapped just like every other man in your life. You knowing he’d come back home at all. And when he did, the two of you could just settle on the couch, doing nothing but talking. About Eden’s first day of school, about how your new job was, everything he had missed out on. You could have been honest with each other. You could’ve felt safe. Your chest fluttered at the thought.
“Yeah.” You breathed, shuffling an inch closer without even meaning to.
His hand came up to cup your cheek, swiping away a tear on your eye. Gently, his fingers moved along your temple, down your eyebrow, past your nose, across your cheekbone. Tracing. “Coulda loved you right.” He whispered. And that was the truth you were reminded of as you listened back to those voicemails — if you could have gone back into the past and changed it, the one thing you would have kept the same was Gator. The first time that you met him, the moments you spent falling in love, when it all caved and you gave in to your feelings.
Like now.
“Still could.” He let out a shaky breath that fanned over your lips. And then, finally, he closed the gap. And for the first time in nine years, you were kissing Gator Tillman. This time when you kissed him, it was like landing on the moon. He took away the thing that had been weighing you down for your entire life, and made you float.
He tasted sweeter than he used to. Maybe it was the cookie dough ice cream still lingering on his lips, or maybe it was just him now. But there was still that sharpness underneath, the one that took you right back to your youth. And hungry for more. You shifted closer, your hand coming up to grip his neck as your tongue swiped his lip. He pulled back for a second, eyes searching yours in a silent question. You began to form a nod and his lips were back on yours before you could even stop the movement. And as your tongues slid slowly against each other, Gator couldn’t stop the groan that fell from his lips. His hands slid down your body ever so slowly, electricity shooting from his fingertips as he caressed your neck, your shoulders, your back until they reached your waist. He pulled you towards him softly and you took the opportunity to slide your hands under his shirt. He shivered at your touch, pulling away from you for a second to softly laugh into your neck.
“Is everything alright?” You whispered, running your hand down his front, subconsciously taking note of every new scar that had formed since the last time you felt it.
“Never better.” His greedy lips began to explore down your neck as you both shifted so he was leaning over you. He threw his shirt across the room and reached to help you with your top. “Fuck, wow.” He whispered as he took in your newly exposed skin. The look in his eyes made flowers bloom in your stomach, and you pulled him back down, desperately to feel him as close to you as possible. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous. Shit, I can’t believe this is really happenin’.” The warmth of his skin on yours filled you up in every way possible. Well, almost. He shifted slightly, and you could feel what you really wanted on your thigh.
“Gator,” You murmured against his lips. “Do you have anything?”
“Shit.” Your stomach twisted. You were here, and now that you’d tasted his lips again, you wanted it all. Nine years of trying your best to forget the feeling of his hands on you, pushing down the ache that had been sitting deep in your chest forever. Now you were here, and you couldn’t wait a second longer. He moved his hips against you, like that would make you change your mind. And it almost did, but not quite.
“You remember how we ended up with Eden in the first place, right?” He sighed, knowing your were right, but brought his lips back to yours as he unclasped your bra. He began working his way to your neck, your collarbone, and then, further down. “Gator, what are you-“
“What, like that’s the only thing we can do?” He continued kissing, breaths getting heavier as he approached your thighs. It wasn’t the only thing you could do, and it’s not like Gator hadn’t gone down on you before but, well, he was a teenage boy when your sex life was at its peak, and his main focus was always the same. But right now as he pushed your legs apart, settling himself between them with a hungry look in his eyes, he seemed perfectly content. More so when his tongue actually started exploring, and you both immediately let out a breath at the feeling. Still, you couldn’t help but tease him. “You still need help finding-” You were cut off by your own moan when his lips wrapped around with the perfect suction.
He giggled against your skin. “You gotta be a little quieter than that.” You only pushed your fingers through his messed up hair, and looked at him for a split second and he was leaning back down. You missed him. In any and all ways, and with the way he was devouring you, it seemed the same for him. Between his lips, and his fingers, and him groaning against you, it took you no time to reach the edge, sweating and lost in the feeling as you did.
“Shit, Gator- Keep going- I’m gonna-” He growled eagerly as you did, working you through it, whispering about how good you tasted. He kept his head resting on your thigh as he watched you come down, mesmerized.
And when you did, a thought washed over you. You turned, reaching for the drawer in your nightstand and Gator quickly lifted his head up.
“Did I do somethin’?” His voice was small as he asked but when he spotted what was in your hand, he smiled immediately. Condoms. “Thank fuck.”
When he snatched the box from you and reached in, he paused and you knew why. The packet was almost completely full. In fact, only one had been used. Which was weird because Malcolm had been here for weeks. Before Gator could ask the question, you pulled him back down to you, tugging at the waistband of his pants to get them down. But the way he sighed as you helped him, compelled you to tell him the truth. You ran your fingertips lightly against his chest, and kept your gaze focused there too. “They didn’t fit him.” You admitted, smelling the pretentious smirk that grew on Gator’s face a mile away. You grabbed his face with both hands, kissing it right off him. And he didn’t complain, opening his mouth to you immediately. He was practically shaking as he ripped the package open and so were you, desperate to feel him again.
And then you finally did. “Shit, shit, shit.” He breathed hot against your ear as he sunk into you. “Y’ feel so good. So fuckin’ good.” He was right. You never let yourself think of it, but now that he was actually here, you couldn’t believe you got something this perfect. It was like the two of you belonged. He locked his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly like he had to keep checking that you were actually there. You felt your head spinning, less because of his movements but because of the words he couldn’t stop whispering. Against your hair, lips, your neck,
“I missed y’ so much.”
“You have no idea how long I wanted this.”
“Thought about you every single day since y’ left.”
Your heart fluttered with each word. You’d buried it so deep that you hadn’t even realized just how lonely you had been without him. That ache in your stomach that you had simply gotten used to disappeared with each word he whispered, each press of his lips.
After, breaths heaving, you looked at each other for a long moment. There he was. Your Gator, with the entire world in those eyes. Ever so slowly, he rolled beside you, but never took his arm away, pulling you tight against him, as he peppered more affectionate kisses against your neck. You closed your eyes, pushing back against him so you were even tighter in his hold and he only chuckled. And for once, as the darkness fell over the two of you like a soft blanket, your moment wasn't interrupted by anything else. Not everything was okay, but right now, with Gator next to you, felt like it could be.
For the past nine years, honestly longer, you had done everything alone. It was your city, your house, your job. Then you came here, and it felt like you were walking into a stranger’s life. This was Gator’s town, Gator’s ranch and Gator’s community. But there was one thing you had always shared, no matter what — Eden. And because of her, this chaotic summer had made everything blur. It wasn’t “mine” or “his” anymore, it was ours. As your hearts beat in time, your eyes quickly grew heavy and you fell asleep. In your shared room. In your shared bed.
Together.
.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
taglist (comment to masterlist to be added): @thesecretoftheswan, @aecd27, @wolfiee10, @officerrrfriendly, @steviaorsugar, @valentine-night, @nosebeers, @acdassenza, @literal-tv-menace, @torntaltos, @luminousdoomsellsworld, @pietrothemovie, @megoshh, @djobug, @eleanor-harrington, @stevesbabe10010, @dopeysunflowers, @bells-bookshelf, @itsdjoverr, @ms-mountebank, @ripmornings, @purplequeen64-stuff, @theshiniestgemstone, @adoreyou-ido, @talesofathirtysomethingnothing, @keerygirlie98, @noorgee, @jamdoughnutmagician, @missyd0ll, @redvelvetcupcke1, @scaramou, @hazzaisonfirelol, @kristywidget97, @jorkingtodjo, @kurtsw7rld96, @s3xytosomeone, @harrystylesgirlie
girl, I gotta catch up...
caught up, oh my god
fuck malcom, fuck marcia, fuck beth or whatever her name was. I'm coming for all you hoes
poor eden </3 poor gator </3 poor me </3 they all deserve better, my babies
♡ GATOR TILLMAN ♡
♡: fluff ♤: angst ☆: smut
♡ coward (series)
wc: 4.4k
summary: after being discharged from prison, gator locked himself in isolation—refusing to let anyone hurt him ever again. but when he meets you, his considerate neighbor, he realizes the life he dreams of is guarded by one thing he never felt before. fear.
masterlist
divider credits: @strangergraphics
coward
SERIES MASTERLIST
status: ongoing
pairing: blind gator tillman x neighbor reader
summary: after being discharged from prison, gator locked himself in isolation—refusing to let anyone hurt him ever again. but when he meets you, his considerate neighbor, he realizes the life he dreams of is guarded by one thing he never felt before. fear.
warnings/tags: blind gator, explicit language, blasphemy, HEAVY religious themes, angst, petnames, flirting, fluff, strangers to lovers, meet cute?
a/n: this is my first ever series!! i am so excited to see how everyone likes it. just wanna preface this series by saying all of the titles trace back to christianity, however, i am an atheist. i make no attempt to insult or change anyone's beliefs. religion is a complex thing that i have no desire to comment on. having grown up in a christian/catholic household, i have come to love religious metaphors, themes, and connections in my fics. (if you can't already tell by my other fics) that being said, i hope you enjoy this series!! ily <3!!
♡ chapter one: the second death
♡ chapter two: coming soon...
♡ chapter three: coming soon...
masterlist
divider credits: @strangergraphics
♡ the second death ♡
part 1 of coward
pairing: blind gator tillman x neighbor reader
summary: after being discharged from prison, gator locked himself in isolation—refusing to let anyone hurt him ever again. but when he meets you, his considerate neighbor, he realizes the life he dreams of is guarded by one thing he never felt before. fear.
word count: 4.4k
warnings/tags: blind gator, explicit language, blasphemy, religious themes, brutal angst from gator, petnames, flirting, fluff, strangers to lovers, meet cute?, NO use of y/n, incorrect use of a mobility cane (not what you think, don't worry)
a/n: hi everyone!! first gator fic, kinda nervous... truth be told, i have not watched fargo. i'm working off fanfiction, edits, and a gator scene pack. hope i captured his character well. this will be the first part of a little mini-series with these two. hope you enjoy!!
Gator Tillman was many things.
Stubborn, overconfident, bigoted—Gator had been called every insult under the sun. Whether it was his father or the town he sherriffed, Gator Tillman was made up of a million flaws. A population of words that lived under his skin, most of which seeped from his blood itself.
But he was not a coward.
Come hell or high water, if Gator Tillman wanted something, he would get it. More often than not, Gator found that his iron-like willpower was reserved for making his father happy—or at least trying to.
He didn't think he worked for anything more than making his father proud of him. Whether Roy had told him to or not, Gator did anything to please him—planting evidence, tracking down Dot, hell, even going after Ole Munch? Gator did it without question.
With all of his determination, he didn't have room for fear—for hesitation. Why would he? It wasn't like he had anything to lose. After all, he was the law—untouchable, invincible.
But being the law couldn't save him this time.
Truth be told, Gator was convinced losing his sight was worse than dying.
He would be able to handle dying. Maybe he would die a martyr and finally earn his father's approval. Even if he died foolishly, he would still be dead. He wouldn't have to live with the guilt, the shame of dying as he lived. Nothing more than a disappointment.
As far as Gator was concerned, dying would be a mercy.
But Gator didn't like thinking about what would happen next. Not spiritually. Not with his soul, or whatever—truth be told, he didn't believe in the afterlife. Heaven, hell, it was all bullshit to him. He had lived in purgatory long enough to know the only fate for him was the one where he would never wake up.
No, Gator was worried about more than where his soul would end up. He was worried about what they would do with his corpse.
Gator already knew he wouldn't be buried with his family. His name would ruin the perfect image casted generations ago—matching headstones all marked with Roy Tillman. Even in his death, Gator would be a burden. Something to be ashamed of rather than cherished.
That was all he knew—how to be a failure.
Even before the incident, Roy's words used to cycle through Gator's mind constantly, punishing Gator for daring to breathe—to live, to be his son in the first place. Despite the torture, Gator remained strong, refusing to let the pain get to him.
As he grew up, Gator learned to think of his heart as a soldier. A soldier needs armour. Protection. Without protection, you allow vulnerability, and a war isn't won with vulnerability.
So Gator lived his life with a bulletproof vest—one he had spent a lifetime weaving into perfection. It was the one thing he hadn't messed up, and Gator would have rather died than allow anyone to see it. He would be damned if he let someone ruin it for him.
If he kept it to himself, no one could scoff in his face and test it out, firing until they found the weak spot.
There were days Gator couldn't handle the weight of the bullets. He was tired of the battlefield, of standing on the frontlines, of this war he was born into—a war of shame and blood that he couldn't wash off for it lived under his skin.
But there was no other option than to live.
It wasn't until he had lost everything that his vest failed. Blind, tortured, and broken down to nothing, his father delivered the fatal blow.
“If there was any use for you, it's gone now.”
Gator could still remember that moment down to the taste of his tears—rare and broken. Discarded on the ground—blind, hopeless, and abandoned by his father—he realized that sight must be the first thing you lose when you die.
When the bullet sinks too far. When you can taste the blood travelling from your gut up to your mouth, iron lingering in between your teeth.
But like everything else, death didn't want Gator. Instead, he was given a life sentence—the punishment the darkness.
Gator didn't know what monster he was in his past life, but if he didn't know any better, he was sure God had taken it out on him in this one—for Gator didn't believe in a devil so cruel.
Now, all he had was his father's voice in his ear.
“If there was any use for you, it's gone now.”
As much as the words killed him—stabbing him in the lung—the twist of the knife was the horror that kept him up at night.
Roy was right.
He was utterly useless now. More incompetent than his father ever claimed he was before. Anything he ever had before was gone—his heart purple now. Injured in the line of duty and sent home to rot.
Gator would never have anything ever again.
And you were proof.
Gator didn't know what torture truly was until he met you. It had been almost two months of knowing you and Gator still wasn't sure how he was breathing.
It was the second of November when he had his first brush with an angel.
He had heard rummaging sounds from his front lawn, catching his attention as he collected the mail from his entryway. It had taken him—well, his parole officer—forever to find a house that met Gator's needs. He had only been there for five months, half of which he spent trying to adjust to his surroundings. Blind and bitter, he stayed inside, resigning himself to a life of isolation. It was better for everyone.
He listened in on the sound from the other side of the door, trying to decipher whether or not it was an animal, or even worse—a person. It wasn't until he had heard a whispered "Goddamn it" that he sprang into action.
Gator rushed to unlock his door, hurtling the door open with all his strength. "The fuck are y'doin' on my lawn!" His shout echoed across the lawn. Damn, he had forgotten how loud he could be—especially in the open, nauseous air. Was it just him, or did something smell?
The gasp that followed quickly refreshed his memory as to why he never went outside. He hated people seeing him, even with his sunglasses, he still felt like a freak show. He heard the same voice from before stutter. "Sorry! Shit, I didn't realize anyone was home—"
"Someone's home. Get off my lawn."
"Sorry, I was just trying to clean up the mess—" Gator's brows furrowed. The mess?
"Fuck y'talkin' 'bout?"
Your voice struggled again. "The—the eggs?"
Gator promptly came to realize what had been invading his senses. "Eggs?" He questioned, covering his nose as he came to recognize the odor.
"Yeah, and the toilet paper? They've been here since Halloween," you answered.
Gator felt anger wash over him before a tsunami of embarrassment took over.
"I'm sorry. I know I should've knocked, but I didn't see a car, so I assumed you were out of town—I'm sorry. It's just I have a thing with smells, and it's been giving me a headache—I didn't mean to overstep or anything…"
Gator couldn't tell if it was out of guilt, annoyance, or some sort of siren song he was trying to avoid that caused him to stop you.
"Stop. Just—stop," he sighed. You immediately went quiet. The silence lingered like static—dragging on until you can't discern whether or not it's getting louder or you're starting to go insane. "How bad is it?" Gator asked.
He could practically hear your following wince. "It's not… good."
Gator groaned, rolling his head. "For fuck's sake—"
"Listen, with the two of us working together, I'm sure we can get it done a lot faster."
Gator scowled. "Two of us? The fuck y'think I need you for?" He spat. Somewhere deep in Gator, he knew he was being unfair—that he was lashing out. You didn't deserve his anger over offering to help.
"I—I don't—" you fumbled for an answer before Gator picked up on you swallowing, as if you were pulling yourself together. "You're right, I'm sorry. I'll go."
The dejected tone in your voice made something in Gator falter. He could practically hear his court-ordered shrink in his head.
"Shutting people out won't prevent the criticism you're scared of."
Scared. The word had lingered where Gator kept his anger, the new vest around his heart—fragile and weak—rippling from the shot.
Gator Tillman was not scared.
He felt the vest absorb the bullet, warping around his soldier.
"Wait," he sighed. "You don't need to go. Just—give me a second." Gator begrudgingly threw his mail in the basket by his shoerack, smoothly swung a nearby baseball cap on his head, and unhooked his cane. He rolled the tip on the ground beneath him, checking for the metal threshold.
Gator felt the static grow louder in his ears as he guided himself down to the grassy lawn. You hadn't said a word since he grabbed his cane.
"What?" He barked, already irritated. His back straightened, his shoulders squaring up, ready to intimidate. Gator Tillman was not scared. Gator Tillman was n—
"You sure you don't wanna put on shoes?"
Gator froze.
What?
No pity? No comment on his cane? Not even a hesitant stutter? He wasn't prepared for someone to be blind to his faults. It felt like his heart had stopped, struggling to adapt to a new atmosphere—one where he wasn't criticized for living.
"I hardly think it's comfortable," you continued, filling in the silence.
Gator cleared his throat, trying to unclog his airways so he could fucking breathe.
"It, er—I… It helps me feel the terrain better." His voice had lost all of its bite. Pathetic. You had him bowing down to you in seconds.
You clicked your tongue, most likely nodding at the explanation. "Fair enough." You replied.
Gator didn't know what to say. Now that he thought about it, he might've been better prepared for social interactions had he not isolated himself for months. You went quiet. He couldn't tell if you expected to reply or not—
"Well, I don't know how we're gonna do this anymore," you sighed. His brows furrowed.
"What d'ya mean?"
He picked up on a second worth of hesitation before you answered. "Well, frankly, I'm not sure how you can help clean up something you can't see." Your response caught Gator off guard. Not because it was mean or cruel—no, he would've expected that, anyway. But it wasn't laced with pity, either. You didn't say it like you were walking on eggshells.
It was… casual. Like you were just saying what you thought instead of carefully arranging your words. It felt refreshing and overwhelming—like the first breath you take after almost drowning.
"I—I can still feel just fine." Gator's throat burned. The words scratched on their way out, clawing against his throat the same way his lies used to. "Y'said there was toilet paper, yeah? I use m'cane to find the toilet paper, you clean up the eggs, done."
"Really, huh?" Your tone sounded lighter. "And how do I know you're not just putting me on egg duty 'cause you don't want to do it?" You teased.
Gator's smile broke across his face like it was a new expression for him, his heart warming despite the chilled air.
"Think that lowly of me already, huh?" Gator teased back. He could feel something inside of him opening, loosening.
"How about we just see how good you are with your cane, hmm?"
"And then?" He inquired, stepping closer to you with a smirk. He didn't even care about your choice of words. If you were anyone else, he probably would've cursed at you for saying "we". But with your warmth radiating so strong he could feel his cheeks flush—he found he didn't have it in himself to care.
"We'll go from there…" you answered. The smile Gator could hear in your voice made his heart feel like it was beating to the rhythm of a song instead of a fistfight for the first time in his life.
"You got it, sweetheart."
"Hold your hand out," you told him. Gator's brow raised curiously at your demand. Nevertheless, he extended his palm outwards for you.
Warm fingers met his hand. A match—gentle and giving—landing in a pool of gasoline—violent and taking. You rotated his hand vertically, shaking it once you did as you introduced yourself. The sound of your name felt like a prayer.
Gator fumbled for words—the touch of your hand rewiring his brain. "Um, Gator." He waited for the teasing, the questioning—it was as familiar for him as his name was to damnation.
"Nice to officially meet you, Gator."
His grip on your hand loosened from surprise before tightening, as if he could hold on to how you treated him.
"You too, neighbor." Gator only pulled his hand back when he realized every second of contact was counting down on a time bomb—rigged to explode like everything in his life before. "Let's get to work, then."
With a lot of trial and error, both you and Gator had finally found a rhythm. Gator had struggled for longer than he'd ever admit, but he couldn't lie to himself—his determination to impress you had overridden his insecurity, allowing him to slowly find a technique to his work great enough to have him finish before you.
Gator raked his cane through the lawn one last time for good measure before directing his attention to his front door where he could hear you muttering to yourself.
"Think 'm all done, sweetheart." He called, complacent in his victory.
Your reply came out too low for him to pick up—muttered under your breath as if you didn't want him to hear you.
With no response, he carefully guided himself to his porch. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Good job," you spat at him.
"'M pretty sure most folks'd say it's wrong to lie to a blind man, sweetheart." He heard a sigh fall from your lips. He had heard enough sighs of annoyance or impatience to last him a lifetime—yours wasn't one. "…Have a feeling you're not angry 'cause of me."
"I'm just—I'm just having trouble getting it all off," you admitted. "Fuckin' idiot punks got you good."
Gator almost smirked at your unexpected colorful language. Maybe it was his childhood, or his own propensity for swearing, but you swearing made him feel closer to you—as if he had known you longer than the last forty-five minutes.
You huffed. "It's fine. I'll figure it out—"
"Put me to work."
You paused. "What?"
"I finished my part," he started, pulling closer to you. "J's tell me what you wan'me t'do, and I'll do it."
You didn't respond for a while before he heard a light chuckle.
"Alright then, neighbor," you replied. "You have a mop?"
Gator bowed his head, scratching the back of his neck. "…Kinda," he mumbled.
"Kinda?" You echoed.
He huffed through his nose. "I got a roomba."
"…They make mops?"
"Yea, they, um—have mop attachment things you can put on the bottom…" He explained awkwardly shuffling his feet.
"Really?" He nodded in response. "Huh," you thought out loud.
You were silent for another moment, most likely thinking of a solution. "I got it," you perked up. Gator could hear the pride you were trying not to reveal. He knew that sound like the back of his hand.
"Let's hear it," he encouraged—something he always wanted from someone.
"Go get two towels."
He nodded, bowing the tip of his hat. "Yes, ma'am."
"You're gonna need a bucket of water with soap in it!" You called after him as he walked through the doorway. He gave you a swift thumbs up, making his way to his bathroom.
He came back to your voice greeting him. "Perfect, thank you." Gator couldn't help it, he beamed like a kid on Christmas—receiving the one gift he was too scared to put on his list. Your hand brushed his as you took the bucket from him, setting it down on the ground.
"The towels?" You asked. He grabbed them off his shoulder, holding it out for you. He stood there in the silence, trying to listen for any sign as to what you were doing—only the vague sounds of fabric whooshing to clue him in.
"Alright, now…" you trailed off. "I need your cane."
His eyebrows furrowed. "My cane?"
"Just trust me."
Gator hesitated before tentatively extending it towards you, his shoulders tense with anxiety as you carefully took it from him.
It's not like he even needed it. He wasn't helpless. He could get around just fine on his own. He never wanted a stupid fucking cane, anyway. If anything, he thought it slowed him down. But his heart raced at the idea of you doing something to it. What if you ran away with it? What if you tried to snap it in half? What if you were about to make fun of him for using one in the first place—
"Here you go."
Gator snapped back to reality at the return of your voice. He reached out, scanning the space for his cane until he found your hand, patiently holding it out for him to take. As he held it in his hand again, he noticed the unfamiliar weight, seemingly coming from the bottom.
"Makeshift mop." You said, answering his question before he could even form it on his tongue. He brought his other hand to the end of the cane, noting the bundle of soft fabric.
"How did you…" he trailed off in amazement.
"I balled up one towel, wrapped the other one around it from the center, pulled up the edges, around the end of your cane, dropped a hair tie from the top and used it to tie the edges—" Your explanation left Gator speechless. It was so simple, and yet he felt like he had never heard anything more brilliant.
"—Now you can use your cane to clean the walls, you know? Like you do on the ground, just… on the walls." There was something so beautiful to Gator about the growing shyness in your voice, as if you were nervous to have a solution.
Gator broke out into a smile. "That's fuckin' genius, sweetheart."
"Really?" You asked, making Gator laugh.
"Y'kiddin'? Y'just made a fuckin' makeshift mop fer me." Gator returned his focus to the bottom of the cane again, admiring your handiwork.
"It was no problem, really…" Gator didn't need his eyes to see the flush on your cheeks.
He laughed again, shaking his head. "Well, c'mon then, sweetheart. Go on n' show me where y'want me." Gator picked up on the sweetest laugh he had ever heard as he picked up the bucket of water, ready to go wherever you wanted him to.
You grabbed his arm gently, helping guide him off his porch. Gator wasn't used to having someone else guide him. He had gotten used to the layout of his house a long time ago. Every corner, every light switch, every cabinet had all been mapped out in Gator's mind. In the outside world—whenever he dared to go—he would use his cane to direct him, warning him of every danger he was walking into.
But giving his trust to you? That felt like walking on water.
"Alright, and now turn…" you directed him, delicately spinning him around. "Okay, you'll start with the garage door and the driveway," you told him. "You're facing the middle of the garage right now." Gator couldn't tell you how perfect you were. Not only did you treat him like a regular person, you accommodated him. You guided him, saw for him—Jesus, you turned his cane into a mop. You aided him instead of giving up on him, giving him every chance to do it on his own.
"Thanks, sweetheart."
Gator was never one to thank people. He tried to, after the incident—to be kinder than before, to properly show his appreciation. But the more he thanked people, the more he realized no one was letting him do anything on his own. He had become a charity case instead of a human. A good deed instead of a person.
Eventually, Gator went back to being unappreciative—to not having room in his heart for others. All he had was anger. Fury that masked his misery. It was the easiest version of him he knew how to be.
But you? Something about you made him want to be someone convoluted—someone that would take effort to be. To put his corpse and his last name behind him and dwell on whether or not his soul was headed to the same place yours was. If he deserved a fate like yours.
You patted his arm, letting him know you were still there. "Have fun. I'll just be a few feet from your right cleaning your porch, okay?" Gator smiled as you once again gave him directions.
Your hand fell from his arm. "Try not to finish before me, yeah?" You called from his right. "Or I might just have to leave all the cleaning to you."
Gator chuckled. "Not my fault y'made me a super cane," he teased, hoping to elicit more laughter out of you—more sounds he could store somewhere when it came to you.
You laughed back, filling Gator's heart with warmth. "Don't make me take it back."
Gator smirked again.
"Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart."
Time flew between the two of you as you both cleaned. Every now and then, Gator would ask you if he had missed a spot, and every time, you had said no, occasionally teasing him.
"You still have to ask?" You had replied after the fourth time, making Gator smile.
"C'mon, darlin'. Humor me."
Gator listened to your nearing footsteps, facing the approaching sound. "So?" He teased. "I pass?"
You tsked your teeth, most likely shaking your head. "I'm afraid not, Gator."
He tilted his head, a coy smile on his face. "Really? Whyever not?" Gator never liked being laughed at in the past, but the beautiful sound that spurred from your lips made Gator want to be responsible for that sound for the rest of his life.
"Seems you missed a spot," you answered. "At the top." Gator turned his head towards the top of the garage door. He extended his cane upwards, reaching the top. "No, a little to the left," you pointed.
Gator followed your direction. "Like this?"
"No, hold on." You joined his side, placing your hand atop his. You maneuvered him, steering him towards the spot he had missed. Gator smirked smugly as your touch electrified him. It seemed your touch was worth Gator being incompetent for once.
"There you go," you validated, letting go of his hand. "Looks like you're all done then."
"Yeah? How'd I do?" He tilted his head innocently, unable to contain his grin.
You chuckled. "No notes. A plus."
Gator beamed in your direction. "Never been a model student before."
"Must have had a great teacher, then."
"Oh, I did." Gator flattered, stepping closer. "Fuckin' genius one if you ask me."
You giggled. "Careful there, handsome. You're gonna get yourself into trouble."
"Oh, I don't doubt it, sweetheart." Gator smirked, leaning closer to your warmth.
Gator picked up on what sounded like you running your fingers through your hair. "So…" you started, "We're finished cleaning now."
"That right?"
You hummed. "Looks as good as new."
Gator nodded solemnly. "Lead me back to the door?" Gator held his hand out for you.
"Of course," you said softly—a lullaby that could soothe him to sleep—as you took his hand.
Gator felt bitterness rising in his chest. He didn't want to stop being with you, yet. How was he supposed to part ways with the one good thing he had ever known? It was when you had led him to his door—his hand on the doorknob—that Gator realized something.
He didn't want to be alone.
But Gator knew there was no other life for him.
He would be destined to a life of solitude—too infuriated with the world to allow himself a chance for happiness—
"Hey," you called before he could shut the door.
"Yeah?" Gator held the door open, unwilling to let you go so soon.
You paused. "Maybe… Maybe I could see you again sometime? When we're not both drowning in eggs and toilet paper?" You chuckled.
Gator went as still as a statue.
"You.. Y'want to see me again?" You must have nodded—a silence lingering before your audible confirmation. "Why?" As much as he wanted to beg for your company, he couldn't find one reason why you should say yes—let alone, want his as well.
"I enjoyed cleaning with you, today." There was a smile in your voice that Gator felt like he had to get rid of—self-sabotage ingrained in his bones.
"Y'enjoyed cleanin' up rotten eggs n toilet paper?"
"Okay, I think you're actively ignoring the with you part," you pointed out, still smiling. Gator couldn't keep back the corners of his lips from lifting at your quip.
"…So?" you asked. "What do you think?"
Every instinct in Gator was telling him to run—that this was a bad idea, that you were a bad idea. For all he knew, you could just be waiting to humiliate him, or worse—pitying him.
"I think you're an idiot, teach."
To Gator's chagrin, you didn't fall for his attempt to push you away.
"And here I thought I was a genius?" You argued back, catching onto him.
Gator didn't respond. He didn't know how to. All his life he had wanted more, and now that he had finally accepted he would never anything ever again, here you were to throw him off. Gator was afraid of losing what he just found.
Gator Tillman was not a coward, but he was a coward for you.
You must have taken his silence for an answer. "That's okay. Maybe I'll see you around, yeah? Who knows? Those punks might come back for more." You sounded awkward, unsure. Gator hated it.
"It was nice meeting you, Gator." Your solemn tone was fading into the distance, leaving him to rot like everything else—
"Wait." Gator stopped you. It was now or never. "I want to see you again, too." With nothing to see, Gator only had the drumming in his ears—pulsing at the speed of darkness, ringing in his ears like a warning bell, signaling the oncoming train—
"Be ready at noon tomorrow."
masterlist
divider credits: @strangergraphics
Itty Bitty Pretty | Steve Harrington
》 PAIRING: steve harrington x female!reader
》 TROPE/GENRE: established relationship; mild angst; fluff; smut (18+)
》 SUMMARY: You overheard Steve’s and Robin’s debate about boobies being slightly overrated. It would’ve been amusing until Steve listed certain traits of boobs he found attractive. Being a member of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, you started feeling insecure with yours.
》 WARNINGS: not set in a particular timeline (but steve & robin still work at family video), boobs/boobies & tits/titties, steve’s poor wording, steve loves (your) boobies, small misunderstanding, mentions of toxic parents (both steve & reader), past bullying, pet names (babe, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, angel…it’s a lot), inexperienced!shy!reader, best!boyfriend!steve, dorky!steve, insecurities, fluffy reassurances, domestic bliss (!!!), showering together, steve babying/doting over r, first i love you’s, sweet & slow to intense smut (a gear shift, if u will), 18+ Content [MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!] ~ extended warnings below the cut!
》 WORD COUNT: 19.7k+ (she big like steve’s co—)
A/N: first time i saw the infamous boobies scene, this idea immediately popped into my head. i, myself, have small tits. like leaning down/arms pushing up to show cleavage? i don’t know her LMAO. so this is dedicated to all you lovelies out there who sometimes feel insecure with their breast size <3 all boobies are pretty no matter what!
++ also, basically, it’s become a thing that i only post smut once a year a.k.a. i unleash the harlot in me with no restraints any time of the year lmao. so this the 2022 Edition. so with that said, don’t expect anything groundbreaking 😭 bc again, i rarely write smut. also wrote this in 6/7 days so might be rush & i also proofread this once and kinda gave up halfway thru. but i hope you enjoy!! <3
📍 BLOG NAVIGATION ✩ STEVE HARRINGTON MASTERLIST ✩ MAIN MASTERLIST ✩
⊱ ─────.⋅♚ *｡･ﾟ.★. *｡･ﾟ✫*.
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I can still remember the first time I read this three years ago on ao3. THREE. YEARS. AGO.
THE LIGHT OF THE MOON
here again ch5 - series masterlist
pairing: gator tillman x fem!reader
summary: after the disaster that was dinner at your mother's house, you find yourself slipping into dangerous bad habits that dig up old feelings. but as your time in lehigh runs out, you begin to wonder if those feelings really are old.
wc: 14.5k
warnings/tags: 18+ mdni, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, depictions of domestic abuse, massive panic attack, and drumroll please...THE SMUTTY PAYOFF!!!, piv sex, oral (f recieving), (see masterlist for general series warnings)
a/n: omg guys we're finally here!! sorry for the time this took but i'm currently in peak assignment period so pls bear with me. but i hope this chapter is worth the wait. urgh i love them so bad :((
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For the past few years, you had developed an incredibly bad habit. Sometimes, just sometimes, when you were feeling lonely, you would play your old voicemails back for yourself. All from the same person. The one that spent all of last night holding you in his arms, enveloping you in the comforting scent of sandalwood and vanilla. The same exact cologne he’d worn since he started caring about stuff like that, which was around the time he left you the voicemail you were listening to right now.
16 years old.
“Hey Dove. Are ya comin’ to Jamie’s house tonight?” The music bumped loudly in the background, Gator’s voice barely audible over the chatter of the sophomore party. “Skip the homework for one night, k? Cause like…’S kinda boring without ya here.” You could imagine him now — head down, probably downing a drink before talking — just as you did when you first heard the voicemail, having knocked out early because you couldn’t stand to see all the fun you were missing out on. More accurately, you didn’t want to see all the fun Gator could have without you. And with many other girls. “Gator! You have to be on my team for beer pong! I’m hopeless without you.” A drunk voice giggled. “I gotta go but…maybe I’ll see you later.”
“Babe.” A hand on yours ripped you from the memory. You quickly composed yourself as you tore out your earphones and turned to Malcolm, who was next to you on the bed. “What are you so invested in listening to first thing in the morning?” He blinked at you with the sweetest sleepy eyes, running his thumb softly against your skin. Your heart sank. What were you doing being stuck in memories that didn’t matter anymore when he was right there?
“Nothing.” You placed your phone on the nightstand and laid back down so you were wrapped in Malcolm’s arms, your head tucked against his chest. Yeah. This was right. When you smiled up at him, he immediately captured your lips in a kiss. One that quickly grew hungry as he rolled over you. His weight pressed you into the mattress, and you were aching desperately. But as you opened your eyes for a split second, your gaze caught the clock.
“Malcolm.” He didn’t hear you the first time, still kissing down your neck. And you wanted it. Oh, you wanted it bad. But you couldn’t. For many reasons. “Malcolm.” You tried again. This time he hummed in response, but moved his hands down your body as he kept kissing. You didn’t know why your stomach dropped. You pushed him up, forcing him to look you in the eye. “I’m going to be late for work.”
At your words, he sighed and rolled to the side. You hated every part of this. Ever since you’d been here, everything between you had just been…off. You pressed an apologetic kiss to his cheek. “See you tonight, yeah? Love you.”
“Love you too.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
You tried to ignore the suffocating air in the room as you got ready for the day.
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Working at Dave’s had taught you a lot about Lehigh. That people here loved routine — same diner, same food, same time everyday. That folks were physically unable to hide the emotions on their faces, gossiping in front of the very people they were talking about. And that gossip was spread the most between old men who disguised their discussion as “concern” for the town. But more than that, it had taught you a lot about a certain man who had now become the head of your town.
As you were working the floor, Cory walked in, with his wife and little Hayden trailing right behind. You were immediately smiling at the little boy trying his hardest to jump into the vinyl seats of the booth. “Hey Cory.” You smiled, taking out your notepad. You weren’t exactly happy with the man driving Gator home drunk that time, but at least he had looked out for Gator. Which it seemed most of the deputies weren’t doing.
“Hey!” He broke out into his toothy smile, pulling Hayden up to the seat while the boy grunted in protest. “I didn’t know ya worked here.”
“Um, yeah.” You blushed, embarrassment flooding through you. “Gotta get a job while I’m here. Bills and all that.”
“Oh, I’m sure if you just went places with Sheriff Tillman, you wouldn’t have t’ pay for a single thing in this town, honestly.” His wife, May, chimed in. She meant no harm but everything in you tensed. First, being reminded that Sheriff Tillman meant Gator now, and the idea of always having his name spoken in the same breath as yours.
“Thanks, but I’m fine.” You gritted.
“Hayden, you remember Mr Tillman right?” You couldn’t avoid it. That’s how everyone in this town knew you. It was like the seventeen years of life you’d spent here before that didn’t even matter.
“Big Tillman or Little Tillman?” Hayden blinked, unassuming. Cory’s cheeks immediately went red at the exposure of what he called the Tillmans behind closed doors and he looked to you with pure fear flashing in his eyes. You only shook your head, because you would never tell Gator that truth. Mostly because you knew how much it would hurt his feelings.
“Little Tillman.” You answered. “But he’s a much bigger person than his daddy.” You had your problems with him, but that, especially after last night, you could admit.
“Right.” Cory laughed, cheeks flushing an even deeper red. “Well, this is his-”
“Friend.” You cut in. Cory and his wife stared at you for a long minute at those words, and you felt your heart sink. “It’s not like he’d understand the truth.” You shrugged. And besides, right now, the two of you were working towards friends. “What can I get you?” You whipped out your pen, trying to get the eyes off you. But before they could answer, you noticed that Hayden had hopped off the chair and slipped past you onto the crowded diner floor. Now, he was weaving through legs at a speed you didn’t know was possible, and you knew an accident was coming. Immediately, your reflexes kicked in, managing to quickly catch up to him right as he was about to crash into a customer.
You scooped him into your arms, resting him on your hip as he squealed a little in protest but didn’t fight. “Hayden.” You scrunched your eyes as if you were focusing really hard, so he matched your look. “You want to be a super spy, right?” You’d taken note of his James Bond shirt and your shot in the dark had stuck. Hayden nodded aggressively. “Then can we be on a secret mission and stay very still so the villains don’t notice us?” You pointed at a random table, almost feeling bad to rope them into your games. Hayden’s smile grew wide at the thought and he nodded, placing a tiny palm to his mouth to signal his silence. “Sorry about that.” You looked up to the woman who he had almost crashed into and froze when you noticed who it was.
Beth Marsh.
The girl that you spent the entirety of high school watching. The girl that you despised because you wanted to figure out how to be her. Floating through this town as if nothing ever bothered her, with far too many friends and even more boyfriends. She was a magnet, loved by parents and kids alike. And you never understood how.
Right now, she was eyeing you up and down in that familiar scrutinizing glare, but at this point you’d gotten use to the whole town’s eyes doing just the same. Quickly, though, she straightened up, a fake smile coming across her face as she gasped out your name in shock. “I can’t believe it. I heard you were back, but oh my goodness, look at you. You’re so…” She trailed off, clutching tighter to her purse, trying to find the kindest way to describe it. “Different! Like a real city girl.”
“I mean, Beth, I’m in a bright yellow Dave’s uniform. Don’t know if you can get much more Lehigh than that.” You smiled as best as you could, adjusting Hayden’s position on your hip as he fussed, watching Beth.
She looked at Hayden’s arms reaching out for her perfectly done hair and took a shocked step back. You could tell she certainly didn’t have a kid yet. “Is this your…youngest?” The pause did all the heavy lifting in that sentence, judgement seeping into the silence.
“Oh!” You laughed loudly. “Oh, no.” At this point, Hayden was poking your face in boredom so you gave Beth a polite nod. “He’s Cory’s kid over there. Better get him back.” You were half relieved that she wouldn’t have more time to analyze you, and take the gossip back to the same group of girls from school that she was probably still friends with.
But she only trailed behind, still talking your ear off. You swore she didn’t used to be this chatty. “How is your daughter then? Well, I mean she must be happy to see her dad again and have the ranch and all.” You only nodded, trying to pull Hayden off your hip and settle him in the booth, but he was clinging to you.
“Hayden, don’t run again.” Cory scolded, trying to pry him from your arms. “No, Daddy!” He curled into your shoulder. “Want Mrs Tillman. She’s fun.” All four of you stilled at what he’d called you.
You swallowed back what felt like something close to tears, and whispered in Hayden’s ear, feigning seriousness. “You remember our mission, right?” Hayden smiled. “Well if you sit down with Daddy, mission control might send you a secret surprise food.”
“What kind of surprise?” He pulled back, pushing his eyebrows together and looking at you.
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise now, would it?” He looked at you for a long moment, chewing on his lip before nodding, and settling next to Cory again.
“Thank you.” Cory whispered out in relief. “You’re really good with him.” You shrugged. “Practice. This is the age where you have to turn everything into a game.” You could remember all the ones you had to play with Eden to get her to do basic things. “They wanna do everything on their own too, even though they can’t.” You chuckled.
“Yeah, well.” May smiled fondly to Cory, shaking his shoulder. “Sometimes that never changes.”
“Amen.” Beth added, and you were reminded of her presence. “My husband, Andy, is just the same. They can be so stubborn sometimes.”
It took everything in you to stifle your gasp. “Andy? Like Andy from the marching band?” Surely you were mistaken. As cruel as it was, you had always thought that she would marry one of the footballers. Honestly, before you got pregnant, you were sure of exactly which one it would be too. But you were discovering again and again that people could surprise you. And how many irrational judgements you kept jumping to.
Beth nodded, the pride radiating off her. “He helped me with car trouble a few years back and well…comin’ up on two years o’ marriage now.” She didn’t even hesitate to pull out her phone and start showing you pictures. Despite not being able to wrap your head around it, they truly did look like the happiest family. So did Cory, May and Hayden. Sometimes, it felt like it was just you who couldn’t get it right.
“I always thought it’d be you and Gator.” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. You don’t know what you expected any of them to say but it wasn’t the reaction you ended up getting.
“Gator?” Beth gasped out a laugh. The three of them exchanged a look like they were best friends who were sharing some intimate inside joke, and broke into laughter almost in unison. There was a good few seconds where you just stood there, completely lost as they kept sputtering out chuckles like they were in disbelief. “Honey,” Beth finally spoke. “’S a well known fact around here that no woman is gettin’ anywhere near that one.” You knew why you wouldn’t, but to everyone else in this town, most of that stuff was normal. And it hadn’t stopped anyone in high school.
“Why?” You cocked your head to the side. There was silence for a moment, and they all just stared at you. And those looks were the silent answer that you’d never thought you’d hear. You. Actually, technically, you still hadn’t heard it, which is why you were able to quickly send Beth off to a table and take Cory’s order as if the thought that Gator Tillman — the Gator Tillman, who could have anyone he wanted — hadn’t talked to another woman in nine years wasn’t going to haunt you forever.
You broke right back into your useless habit that very shift, hiding out in the kitchen as you played the next voicemail in the loop.
16 years old.
“Know your probably grounded for the whole sneaking out to the scrapyard thing but…I just…” He sighed dramatically. “Look, y’ know I’m not good with words but- I don’t know, I mean, last night felt kinda…Like, it just hit me that maybe that was your first time, and I really wish I made it-” He took a deep breath, trying to stabilize his wavering voice. “Ok, I’m just gonna say it. Know we’ve been friends for a long time, but last night felt right to me. And I think- I’d like to do it again, ‘f you’d like to do it again. Or we could just…forget about it. It’s totally up to you, y’know? I don’t care- I mean, I do but I just- I want us to be good- I-” His distinct, dramatic gulp echoed through the speaker. “…Call me back when y’ can.” That one always made you blush, that same feeling of butterflies flitting in your stomach. He sounded so flustered and you knew he only got that way when he actually cared about something. He told you once, later, that he was always amazing at being confident when he had to lie but telling the truth was a lot harder. You never asked about it again, but you always noticed it, because Gator was almost always lying, even when he wasn’t aware of it.
A whistle from inside the diner grabbed your attention and you quickly snapped up, stuffing your phone in your pocket. Jessica walked over, her teeth flashing bright against her red lipstick. “You’ve got customers askin’ after you.” She nodded towards Cory’s family, who had finished up their meal and the special curly fries you’d given Hayden as his reward. What you forgot about this town is, that just as quickly as people spread around rumours and secrets that turned everyone against you, people became friends instantly too. “Thanks.” But just as you were about to step away, you paused. “Hey, can I ask you something?” She smiled back at you, so sweet in that way you knew would melt any man. Which is why you couldn’t stop your curiosity. “When we were here on the fourth- Well, Gator must come here often-“ No matter how much you were embarrassing yourself, you simply had to know. What you’d heard earlier simply couldn’t be true. “I guess I’m asking, have you two ever-“ Jessica cut you off with the same exact laugh that the others had let out.
“Don’t have to worry ‘bout me. Or anyone really.” Your entire body released and tensed in one. She gave you a smug smirk. “Guess Dave owes me twenty bucks.” “What?”
“We had a bet runnin’ how long it’d take you guys to patch it up. Seein’ as well…” She indicated between the two of you. “And your shiny ring is gone. So I won!” With a triumphant giggle, she turned away before you could argue and you were left with your head absolutely spinning. You glanced down at your hand and suddenly remembered something. Your ring against the formica of your mother’s kitchen counter. Was it awful that you knew you weren’t bringing it back?
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The car engine hummed quietly as you drove home after your shift. Cory and May had practically begged you to babysit Hayden tomorrow so they could have the night out. You couldn’t say no to the extra money, and besides, you were kind of happy to help. You could see it in their eyes — the sleepless nights, no rest, no peace. You remembered what that baby phase felt like. Even before the baby was born. Coincidentally, you were reliving it right now. Because instead of some music for the drive home, the bluetooth in the car was playing Gator’s 17 year old voice.
“Hi.” There was an extended beat of silence. “I…Running away earlier probably wasn’t the best move. It’s just…Shit. It’s a lot.” He exhaled loudly. “I dunno if you told your parents yet, but, you should come over for dinner with Dad. We can talk proper then.” He chuckled. “I mean, hell, this woulda happened anyway, right? It was always gonna be you. ’S just…early. I’ll see you tonight.”
You remembered every bit of that dinner.You’d attempted to have the discussion with your mother earlier in the day so that at least she would be there. It wasn’t an hour later that your father was storming home from work, screaming the house down. You had managed to lock yourself in your room and snuck out the window so you could make it to the ranch. Alone. That’s when you really thought about the fact that you pretty much did everything in that house alone. And even if you did get rid of the kid, like your dad wanted, things were never going to be okay between the three of you. It probably never had been. So when Roy had offered you a comfortable home, the security of being a Tillman, and Gator had looked at you with those hopeful eyes as he squeezed your hand, how could you say no? You thought you’d have a support system. You thought you’d have that ever elusive thing called a family. And the first few years, however stressful they were, had really felt like that.
You pressed the play button on the next voicemail as you turned down the street that lead to the ranch.
19 years old.
“Hey, baby. Tried y’ a few times. You showerin’ Eden?” That was about a three hour task. “Listen, don’t hate me, but I forgot watcha wanted me to buy. I’ve got…” You heard the rattle of him pushing around thing in a shopping cart as he listed off the extensive amount of food he’d gotten. Eden had been in that time where she was incredibly picky about the food she ate, and her tastes changed every hour. “Oh! And I found a paint set here for a bargain. The mantle could use a nice decoration y’know, maybe you can start that on the weekend? Anyways, I know it was somethin’ for Edie but I ran over the list in my head a hundred times and I can’t remember. Don’t start with me on writin’ it down again, this is a one time thing, okay?”
You laughed now, hearing his incredulous tone. Gator used to be a very focused person. He got given a task and he was after that goal and that goal only. But when it came to Eden, he became something else entirely. The first time you had gone shopping before you even had her, he had practically cleared out the baby aisle, claiming you wouldn’t know what she’d be interested in so it was better to be safe than sorry. And though he wouldn’t tell another soul this, he used to be the one to pick out Eden’s clothes, claiming that that pink onesie would look perfect on her and this yellow dress would be great for church. It had gotten to the point where you had to ban him from going shopping so he wouldn’t blow all his money on spoiling her rotten.
You hadn’t noticed how hard you were smiling as you thought about it until you opened the front door, and it dropped. There, in the living room, sat Gator and Eden, across from Roy’s brother John, Karen, and a man and woman in suits that you didn’t recognize. Office types. Lawyers.
As you shut the door behind you, they all turned at the sound. Worse than seeing these people here was seeing the looks on each of their faces. Karen and John shared that same knowing smile while Gator and Eden looked distraught. “What’s going on?” You asked, moving to sit on the arm of Gator’s seat. Your breath stilled as he began to explain that Karen and John were here with their lawyer because the contesting claim was officially being taken to court. The woman was someone Gator had hired, because, regardless of your feelings, you still needed a lawyer to get through this process. And for the millionth time since you’d been here, you were thinking about how much you despised Roy for putting you in this position. For years, you thought you would never see this place again, and then you did. And now, it did feel a little strange that this home, that Gator and Eden had spent the last month fixing together, was now going to vanish from view again. As the the group got up to leave, Karen turned to you with a snarl. “I’m gonna tear this place down, anyways, don’t get too attached.”
“Ok.” You shrugged, pretending not to notice Gator’s exhale at your words. You didn’t care about this house anymore. You didn’t. You didn’t. You didn’t. As the lawyer lady began to talk about what the next steps were, you excused yourself to make some coffee for everyone. It was much easier to focus your energy on that than the way your body was being torn in two directions. You served the coffee, then began to sweep the house, organize the shoes at the front door, head upstairs and start scrubbing the bathrooms. Anything but think about how your family was going to be changed after this. Anything but wonder what Eden was going to decide to do.
You didn’t need to wonder.
Once the lawyer had left, you returned downstairs. Gator and Eden, of course, both had a look in their eyes. One that told you everything. Even before Eden cleared her throat. “Mom?” She fiddled her thumbs. “Can we please talk?” You cautiously seated yourself across from them, swallowing. You were going to have to talk about this eventually. Eden glanced to Gator for a moment and he nodded encouragingly, hope sparkling in his eyes as he clutched onto some sort of paper in his hands. “I want to stay.” She said, straightening up.
You took a deep breath, trying not to explode. “Ok, I know it’s nice having Gator here, but what about all your friends in Chicago? And you’re about to start high school, you already had everything prepared.”
“Exactly. I’ve made friends here and I have Tom. Only Will would have gone to the same school as me.” She was already using past tense, like Chicago was some distant memory. Like all those years you’d worked your ass off to get her away from this town’s problems meant nothing. “And I can always call or text them.”
“And have ‘em over whenever she wants.” Gator added. You shrunk further back into your seat.
“I get that. I do. But…this is a huge decision. What about our house? I have a job to think about.” You and Gator made eye contact then, your skin burning at the lie he could see right through. The worst thing was, you expected him to look at you with that stupid, self-satisfied glint in his eye. And sure, there was a hint of that. But mostly, it was pity.
“I know, Mom. But maybe you could get a transfer? And Dad promised he’d fix the WiFi so you could work remotely.” Your stomach dropped. They’d talked about this. Spent God-knows-how-long bonding over how stubborn Mom was being. You were trying to be rational, but your desire to leave was seeming purely selfish the more Eden and Gator began to gang up on you. You were starting to feel like a child, throwing a fit because things weren’t happening exactly how you wanted.
And they were doing it again — looking at you with those eyes. At this point, you were sure the pair of them could convince a saint to kill someone. Well, knowing the Tillmans, Gator might have already done that. Which is why you didn’t want Eden here. Although, in all the time you’d been here, you hadn’t heard or seen Gator committing half the crimes Roy did. What would Eden even find if she inherited this land? And there was still the matter of if she would inherit this land. “Karen and the court case?” “I’m payin’ for the whole thing. And besides, the lawyer said their case was real weak.” So everything was pretty much up to you. Great.
Staying here meant at least four more years of townsfolk whispering, and facing people you thought you’d put far in your past, And worst of all, risking Eden seeing everything that made Lehigh the hellhole you’d been trying to run away from. Gator was fine for now, but what if it was all an act to get Eden back here? What if he became the monster that you always feared? And Malcolm? What about the wedding? The house you dreamed of? With him, there was none of this uncertainty. With him, it was the stability you’d never had here.
But if you left, what happened? As much as you hated to admit it, this visit had changed things. Gator and Eden were becoming the father and daughter that they once were. Something you hadn’t realized you missed until you came back here. You hadn’t seen her glowing this bright in a long time. And the thought of this house being torn down did sting. You glanced behind you to the mantle. On top of it, sat your painting of the old scrapyard.
“I’ll think about it.” You pursed your lips, fists balling into the fabric of your uniform.
“Oh! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mom. I love you.” After Eden gave you a big hug, and an even bigger kiss in gratitude, she rushed up the stairs to call Tom.
You and Gator just stared at each other, the quiet wrapping tight around your throat. Choking. “What’s that?” You nodded to the envelope still held in his hands, trying to stop the pulsing in your head. “Uh, letter from my dad. Apparently, it got lost with…everything goin’ on.” You couldn’t distract yourself for more than a moment, because it led back to the same thing. The thing that was splitting you in two. “I-“ Gator finally spoke, eyes focused on his own hands as he wrung them back and forth. “It’s nothin’ personal, Dove. Just think it’s what’s best for Eden.”
You look down at your hands, picking at your nails. “I know.”
That made it so much worse.
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That night, you all ate dinner in a searing silence, Malcolm absolutely ignorant to it. He kept talking about a new client of his and you all nodded response, because it was much easier than acknowledging your issues. You didn’t look Gator in the eyes, Eden didn’t look at you, and Gator pretended his food was the most interesting thing in the world.
“Alright, what’s going on?” Malcolm threw his fork down in frustration. “None of you have said a word for ten minutes, and that is very rare.” He nudged Eden jokingly.
You shook your head. “Nothing’s wrong, Malcolm. Don’t be silly.” He didn’t need to hear about any of it until you made your decision. There was no point in more people worrying about things that might not even happen. The other two hummed in affirmation.
At least you could agree on one thing.
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The next night, you went over to Cory’s house, bags packed with some old toys of Eden’s, that actually belonged to Gator once upon a time. Some wooden cars that he had kept in his room even as a teenager. You always used to tease him about that, though you secretly loved that he had that hidden sentimental side. And though he initially protested that those were “boy’s toys,” when he had seen Eden playing with them, he had just about melted.
Cory and May began ranting at you manically, checking of Hayden’s routines, allergies, likes, dislikes and everything between. You couldn’t help but smile at the way they were basically shivering as they said goodbye to Hayden. The desperation of wanting peace for a night but being terrified of leaving their kid with a stranger was something all too familiar to you.
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22 years old.
You inspected yourself in the mirror, tucking back a strand of loose hair. Your eyes were slightly puffy and you hadn’t even started your night shift yet. You had to do good. You couldn’t afford another day without money. The emergency cash you’d snatched from Gator’s safe was shrinking and you were starting to doubt that you could do this. But you were in too deep now.
“Ok.” You turned to the babysitter, attempting to shake away the nervous energy. “Her bedtime’s at 8, so after that you shouldn’t have many problems, just keep an ear out. Sometimes, she wants to sleep in my room. Just let her if she asks, for tonight.” The babysitter nodded along to your nervous ranting. “Dinner’s on the table. If you’re still hungry, take anything from the cupboards, though there’s not that much. Sorry. She was a bit sick last week so give her the cough medicine if she needs it.” You glanced to Eden, who was playing with some Barbies on the floor, blissfully unaware of the way your gut was twisting inside you. “Maybe I should stay.” You sighed. You had never left her alone at night before. Actually, you’d never used a babysitter before at all.
“Relax.” The woman smiled. “I’ve got it.” You had to trust her.
You crouched down next to Eden. “Honey, I’m going out for a bit, ok?”
“Is Daddy gonna come?”
“No, baby. Amy here is going to take care of you. Be good for me, yeah?” She nodded, still just playing with her Barbies. “I love you so much, ok hon?” You kissed her cheek.
“Ok. Bye Mommy.”
You were shaking as you shut the door behind you.
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Eden made it through that night, and plenty of other just like it until you got a better job. “You know, kids are a lot tougher than you think.” You tried to give them a little comfort.
Cory smiled as they stepped out of the door. “I used to freak out cause the kid wouldn’t sleep properly. And that’s exactly what the sheriff said t’ me.”
He left you with those words that made your gut twist.
You wondered how much it stung for Gator. To be around kids, and give others advice when he hadn’t seen his own child in years. You couldn’t imagine a day going by without Eden by your side, and you were struggling with the slightest distance she was currently putting between you. You understood her completely. They wanted to know each other again. And everything in you was sorry that you had to take them away from each other. You didn’t regret your decision, but you wished it didn’t have to hurt in so many ways.
Still, you had to remind yourself that staying would have stung a lot more.
Once you’d fed Hayden his dinner, he wanted to play on his own in the living room. So you settled yourself back on the sofa, watching carefully, but placing an earphone in. You knew you shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t stop yourself. The next few were all from the same time. The night you left. Eden in the backseat, your phone ringing again and again till you had to mute it. You didn’t call him back for over a month, because you knew you’d give up and turn around at the sound of his voice.
22 years old.
“Dove? What the fuck is this? Y’ can’t be serious.” You could hear him rummaging through the house, like you were just playing hide and seek and he’d find you hidden behind some cupboard or under the bed.
“Answer your damn phone, woman! You’re being ridiculous. You can’t just take my daughter and leave!”
“Ok, I don’t know what sort of temper tantrum you’re havin', but you need to come back here right fuckin’ now. You stole my damn car, I can find you, y’know? Dad can find you.” That last sentence sounded far more like a warning than a threat.
In the next one, his voice was shaking, deafeningly quiet compare to the rest. “Seriously, baby, just come home, ok? We can- We can work out whatever this is. Together. I won’t even be mad. Just don’t take my family away from me.”
Hayden’s scream tore you right back into reality. He was furious because one of Gator’s wooden firetrucks was missing the ladder and his fireman couldn’t reach the top of the dollhouse. You distinctly remembered seeing it when you were gathering the toys, but you’d dragged them from Eden’s closet all the way downstairs in your hands, so maybe it had fallen.
You hadn’t been around a little child in a long time, and you made the biggest mistake possible. You told the truth. “Oh, I must’ve left it at home.” You murmured. But that was enough. Hayden began demanding that you go get it. You tried everything. You offered him other toys, tried to bribe him with ice cream, told him it didn’t matter because it was time to get ready for bed. But he was dead set on getting that ladder. How was the cat meant to be rescued otherwise? And when you took it off the house and started packing down the toys, he began crying about how you wanted the cat to get hurt and you were mean. You ran around for almost an hour, trying to find something to calm him down.
And eventually, you relented. It was way past his bedtime, and you just needed to get him to sleep. But he refused until that cat came down the right way. You pulled out your phone, dialing the last person you wanted to, but the only one you could.
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The knock came fifteen minutes later.
Gator took one look at you and raised his eyebrows. “Fun night?”
“The funnest.” You sighed, stepping back so he could enter.
“Hey, kid.” He crouched next to Hayden. “Got a little surprise for ya.” When he pulled out the little wooden ladder, Hayden jumped, snatching it from his hand immediately. And when he’d got that goddamned little cat down, you and Gator let out the same breath of relief. “‘K bud, you gonna go to sleep now?” Hayden nodded, a satisfied grin on his face. You got up, ready to help him to sleep but Gator pushed you back down to the couch. “I got it.” You let him take the lead but still followed, because, well, even then, you had done most of the nighttime routines and actually taking care of Eden. Especially if he, at any point, knew Roy was around. But surprisingly, he was incredibly good. Teeth brushed, pajamas changed, and soon enough, Hayden was settled in bed, begging Gator to read a bedtime story.
As he picked out one of Hayden’s picture book, you couldn’t stop yourself. “You sure that one’s not too big for you?”
He only scrunched his nose, cocking his head to the side with a little smirk. “Oh y’ think you’re so funny.”
“She isfunny.” Hayden absentmindedly reached for the book out of Gator’s hands as he spoke. You puffed your chest out, victorious. It reminded you of all the times you’d challenge each other to who was Eden’s favorite. It used to be a joke. “Wanna see.” Hayden squirmed, trying to get a view of the pictures from where Gator sat. With a nod, he tried to fit himself in the tiny bed, his legs hanging off the end completely. Your heart just melted seeing it.
After about three “just one more” stories, and a long few minutes of promising you’d wake him up once his parents got home, the kid finally, finally went to sleep.
You and Gator collapsed back on the couch with sweet relief.
“Thank you for coming, Gator. Sorry for ruining your night off.” He shook his head, not saying a word but you could read it in his eyes. He didn’t mind. “You were amazing tonight.” The surprise tinted your tone completely.
And Gator noticed it, scoffing a little. “I remember Eden’s whole nighttime routine y’know? Like every book we’d read to her.” You jaw tensed hearing that. It was easy to forget just how exhausting a three year old was because you had plenty more years with Eden washing that away. He didn’t. You simply nodded and turned away, unable to keep looking at him.
Neither of you thought about what happened next. He was reaching for the television remote and flipping through the channels until he landed on a random drama running on the ABC. He stretched his arms with a grunt, placing them on the back of the couch. You couldn’t stop the smile.
“What?”
“You are such a dad.” You shook your head. He didn’t say anything, his own smile creeping across his face as you both turned back to the TV. The show droned on — doctors flirting in one room while their patient bled out in the other and you and Gator were laughing along to the nuisance. The peaceful air drifted into your lungs with each deep breath you took and you could smell the cookies in the oven that you used to make the two of you as a reward for getting Eden down.
And it was just when your head lolled back, not quite touching Gator’s arm but close enough to feel its warmth, and yours eyelids felt heavy, that the sound came. Hayden’s shrill shriek tore through the house, snapping you to attention. You turned to Gator, sharing the idea immediately. You’d been through this about a million times at minimum.
“Wanna go for a drive?” His eyes creased up in as close to a smile as his tired face could get.
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
The car hummed slowly as the three of you rolled through the quiet streets of Lehigh. It wasn’t even that late, but aside from the seedy criminals and washed out alcoholics, everyone was tucked away safe and sound in their beds. After some whining and protesting, Hayden had finally gone down out of pure boredom.
As you turned back onto Cory and May’s street, you shifted a little. “Maybe just a little longer? Just to make sure he’s really asleep?” Hayden was almost too old to need the trusty old method, so you knew it would be even harder to get him back in the house without waking him up.
Gator nodded, rolling past their driveway. “He doesn’t have anythin’ on Eden, though. That girl cried so hard, I swear they could hear it across the whole ranch.”
“Think it was the whole county.” You chuckled, somehow, remembering the torturous nights. The many, many drives just like this one. They felt like the end of the world at the time, and maybe it was wrong, but you were glad that you had someone to go through it with you.
You swallowed. “You know…I did this with her till she was like seven. I know that’s way too old but there were some nights where she just refused to sleep, and so I’d tell her we were going out on an adventure, put on that… ‘Swan Princess’ CD-”
“It wasn’t a-”
“Yes, I know there were other stories on it but that’s the only one she listened to.” You anticipated the same thing he used to say every time you called it that, in a desperate hope to convince Eden of the same. “I’d just drive her around till the exhaustion washed out the excitement.” You saw Gator’s grip tighten on the wheel. “She used to ask if we were coming back to Lehigh for our adventure. Think the whole thing reminded her of you.” It reminded me too. That might have been the first time you voluntarily offered up how hard it had been without him at first. You weren’t even sure why. It could’ve been this drive reminding you of different times, the repetitive boredom of driving around, or Gator’s vanilla and sandalwood scent hitting your nose, but you were ready to say just about anything.
Honestly, you were starting to get how babies fell asleep like this.
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
16 years old.
“We’re gonna get caught.” You whispered, as Gator squeezed through a hole in the wired fence of the scrapyard. He had called you past midnight, begging you to come out with him because he needed a distraction. Sometimes, he did that unprompted and you never found it in yourself to say no. So you’d slipped out the window and met him at the end of your street. You thought he’d take you to a bar with his fake ID or something.
“Oh, would ya relax? Live a little.” He reached through the hole, extending a hand to you. With a roll of your eyes, you slapped it away and squeezed through to the other side yourself.
As your feet landed on the dirt, your hand brushed a stack of metal parts, toppling them down. The ding echoed through the night making both of you shit yourselves. You stayed silent for a long moment, waiting to see if anyone ran along. “‘F you’re so careless, ‘course we’re gonna get caught.” He chuckled. Your eyes went wide as he just continued along, confidently walking out into the open air.
“I’m serious, I’ll never see the light of day again.” You hissed, keeping your feet firmly planted where you stood.
He didn’t even turn around, a clear mission in mind. “Ok. Go home if you want.” He was bluffing, you knew it. But then, so were you. You looked down to your feet and then back up again. In that time, he vanished.
“Gator?” Your voice shook, mind immediately racing to the worst outcomes. Had a security guard found him? Or worse, some sort of criminal? “Gator?!” You tried louder, speeding to where he had been just moments ago. As you turned past a stack of crushed up cars, you let out a breath. He was standing in front of a car, a smirk on his face.
“Aw, you got a little scared ‘bout me?” You rolled your eyes as hard as you could and gave him a light shove. “Don’t worry, I overheard Dad say the security here was awful. Wanted to see ‘f he was right.” Ah. So that’s why he came here. Push the limit simply because he could. “And why was your dad talking about the scrapyard’s security?” You followed him as he shuffled over to another car pulling at all its handles too. Still no luck, getting one to open.
“I dunno. Some case.” He shrugged, tugging at the backdoor of a car to see if it would open.
“Don’t tell me we’re on an active crime scene right now!” You squeaked just as Gator managed to find an unlocked car. He pulled open the back door with a triumphant grunt.
“Nah. Nothin’ like that. ’S a…place o’ interest.” Without another word, he climbed into the backseat, shuffling to leave space for you. “You coming in?”
You sighed, but didn’t even hesitate for half a second before slipping right in next to him. You shut the door behind you, leaving both of you in the tight air of the dusty old car. You didn’t really mind, especially when his hand brushed yours on the middle seat.
“Gator?” You turned to him and he only hummed in response. “Why’d you call me here tonight?” Your eyes dropped to the seat, as his pinky crept over yours. Immediately, you felt your stomach flip, cheeks getting warm.
“Wanted to see you,” was all he responded. Though lately, his hands had been doing more of the talking. Always lingering somewhere close, like he was ready to take something he hadn’t even asked for yet.
Something about tonight gave you the confidence you so rarely had to finally just come out with the truth. You leaned a little closer, savoring the feeling of Gator’s hand on yours. “That all you wanted?”
His lips tugged upwards, a smile appearing on his face for just a second. A real one, not a victorious smirk. His hand slipped away from yours and your heart skipped a beat, thinking that maybe you’d misread everything. And strangely, your thoughts didn’t drift to the fact that you’d never see Gator again after this. That was never going to be a reality. You were only scared that he was going to tease you for flirting with him and that you’d never live it down.
But he didn’t.
Instead, his hand raised into the air to cup your cheek, pulling you even closer until you were basically sharing your breaths. The smile on his face had faded but was replaced with something else. Devotion, you might have called it then.“You are not fucking real.” He breathed. When you looked into his eyes — all blown wide as he slid his thumb along the lines of your face — it was like you could see the entire world there. A world you so desperately wanted to be a part of.
You closed the gap.
And that was all the permission either of you needed. The kiss quickly grew desperate, your mouth opening for him as his hands wandered up and down your body, sending shivers through you.
When his hands started pulling at your clothes, you let him slip them off. You’d wanted this for so long, but it was terrifying that Gator was going to see you. All of you. You weren’t even sure he was really looking though, his lips painting marks up your neck as he quickly fumbled with his cargos. It was desperate. Like years of waiting had pushed you both over the edge. Needing each other.
And God, it was awkward and chaotic and yet somehow, beautiful. You’d been in love with this boy since you’d met him, even if you hadn’t realized it back then. So this moment was simply…inevitable. Meant to be. It was like after years of circling this unspoken feeling, you were crashing into the sun. Burning hot and bright and pulling you in far beyond your control.
But you would gladly let yourself lose control when it was Gator you were doing it with.
And after, in the dark backseat of an abandoned car, the two of you just took each other in. Relieved to be facing a truth that had been hidden for a long time.
But much like everything else in your life, the moment was taken from you.
You had been so lost in each other, that you hadn’t heard the rumble of a car nearby. Or footsteps approaching. It was only when the white light beamed through the window and onto your faces that you both turned. There, looming above you with his mouth hanging open, was Roy.
You both rode home in the back of a cop car, Roy going off about Gator’s stupid decision and how he shouldn’t have dragged you down with him. You couldn’t bring yourself to even think about the trouble you were in, stealing glances at Gator every few seconds. You were so exhausted from the night, that your mind began to drift, and you dozed off with your head against the window, daydreaming about what tomorrow meant.
“Dove?” You woke to someone shaking your shoulder. “‘We’re home.”
⋆.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
Your blinked your eyes open, realizing that voice wasn’t from your memories. “Did I fall asleep?” You rubbed your eyes clear so you could see Gator again. There was a flash as you were coming back into the real world, where the sixteen year old version of him was staring back at you with those same eyes you could see the world in. Your eyes adjusted quickly, noticing you were already back at the ranch.
“Don’t worry. They didn’t get ya in trouble for sleepin’ on the job.” He handed you a small envelope, with the cash they promised you and you felt your cheeks grow red because he had done half the job for you. You told yourself it was because of that. And not the way your memories had reminded you of a part of Gator you swore to forget. The one that, as you took the envelope out of his hands, and your fingers brushed, caused your stomach to do flips just like back then.
.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
Time in Lehigh seemed to move weirdly. This was a place frozen in the olden days. Technology was like a swear word in these parts that you didn’t dare utter, wives and husbands had a reputation that would be torn to shreds if they dared to step out of line, townsfolk spent their days yearning for the old America on a side of the war that this state wasn’t even fighting.
And yet, since you’d been here, the days had sped by you. You could’ve sworn it was just yesterday that you were pulling into this place, committed to leaving the very next morning. You could’ve sworn it wasn’t a moment ago that you were swearing up and down that Eden would live without remembering what sunset in this town looked like. Well then, how did you end up where you were tonight?
The clouds stretched tight across the horizon, yellows and oranges bleeding across it beautifully as the sun sunk low in the sky. Eden, to your credit, wasn’t outside watching it, so you guess you could say you won. Except you were the one shifting your car into park and entering the brick building that Lehigh called a rec center. Because tonight was the night of Eden’s play. It had snuck up on you so suddenly, and you were realizing the proposed summer getaway had almost come to an end.
That meant you had to make your decision soon.
Inside, black plastic chairs were lined neatly on the wood, the main stage a barely raised floor in front of which were tightly drawn red curtains. You scanned the room, eyes settling on Gator right at the front, who had come straight from work. Yes, two months ago, Lehigh and subsequently, Gator, were thoughts that floated in the very depths of your brain. But now, you were sitting in the front row of your daughter’s play together. Jesus Christ, how ridiculously domestic of you. It struck you then that this was the exact way you used to dream your life would be like before you realized what marriage to a Tillman actually meant. And back then, well, you hadn’t exactly imagined another man, sitting on your other side. You kicked yourself the moment you thought it. Another man? This wasn’t just another man, this was Malcolm. Your fiancé. The two of you would attend plenty of Eden’s plays together in the future. Without Gator. And then, looking to your side, seeing Gator’s eyes carefully scan the cheaply made program and quietly point out Eden’s name in the cast list, you were kicking yourself for thinking that. Time moved strangely in Lehigh, but one thing didn’t change. Coming here completely and utterly screwed you over.
The drawl of the motor curtains opening as they switched off the lights took your attention to the front of the room. You could at least have two hours where you weren’t in your brain, watching your daughter on stage. And out of your brain you were, as they recited old Shakespeare lines that none of you understood. But one thing you did know, was that Eden was amazing. Even when you didn’t understand her words, every single emotion her character was feeling leaped out at you. You dared to sneak a glance to see Gator’s reaction. His eyes were wide, flicking intently from left to right as she moved across the stage. They didn’t move from her once, even following the tiny movements she made with her hands or her feet.
As the play finished, and the cast bowed, everyone began to clap. And it wasn’t quiet, but it sure sounded it when you heard the man next to you. Gator sprung to his feet, clapping his hands so hard they were going red. He was so absorbed in it, not even paying mind to everyone else’s judgemental looks. You’d never seen him glow with so much pride. Over a community play. And then Eden smiled at him, both of them speaking a silent conversation right there. Apologies, promises and everything else flowed between their eyes. You felt like an intruder, watching it unfold. But you weren’t upset. You only had one thought.
I want to see them like this everyday.
.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
After the play, Gator, being Gator, had managed to get the keys to the ice cream parlor so the entire cast could have a party there. You raised your eyebrows at his willingness to spend a whole night with a group of sugar high teenagers, but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Not when Eden was jumping up and down and leaping into his arms in gratitude.
So it was just you and Malcolm on the way home, the car filled with the energy you just could not contain. The two of you had gone out to dinner and back and you still hadn’t shut up.
“Wasn’t she amazing?” You almost bounced in your seat, hands flailing.
“She was.” Malcolm chuckled. “But please put your hands back on the wheel, I don’t want to die.”
And just then, the bluetooth in your car rang out. It was Eden. “Speak of the devil.” You smiled as if you were not always speaking of her. You clicked the answer button and let it pick up. At first, you could barely hear Eden over the sound of chatter in the background. “Mom! Hey.” She shouted and you could just about make out her voice.
“Yeah, hon, why are calling?” Your heart was doing that irrational thing where it started speeding up. She was at an ice cream parlor with a bunch of theatre kids and adult supervision, how much trouble could she get into?
“No, just- Yeah. I’m asking now.” She turned to someone passing her. Asking what? You prayed it was just something simple like staying out a bit later than curfew. But when had your life been simple? “Everyone wants me back for the winter play!”
“Winter play?” You and Malcolm let out in unison, so stunned that you almost missed the turn for the ranch. Since when did Stark County have such a vibrant arts scene?
“Yeah!” Eden continued, completely unbothered. “They said they want me for the lead lead this time!” She squeaked.
“Well, I don’t know, hon, won’t you have school then?” Away from here, please.
“The school is like a five minute walk from here. My friends and I can come straight here for the evening.” Malcolm slowly turned to you, eyes widening as he caught up to what she was insinuating. Your heart dropped to your feet. “Mom?” “Yeah, Eden, we’ll talk about it later, ok?” You hung up before she could say anything more.
You didn’t look at Malcolm, but you could feel his eyes boring into you, betrayal swimming in them.
“Babe…what is she talking about?”
You swallowed, already knowing this wasn’t going to be easy. “Malcolm, I had a really nice night tonight. Could we please just keep it that way till we get home?” Not that it mattered. You were already on the property. Like those few minutes would give you time to justify your stupid decision to keep this from him, know how to go about saying that your daughter wanted to stay in this middle-of-nowhere time capsule permanently. Malcolm was not the small town type, and what did that mean for the two of you? The car was quiet for a long moment as the tires rolled through the dirt, finally coming to a stop in front of the house. You looked at it — roof patched over with slightly mismatched tiles, a door that’s knob was far too modern compared to the rest of it. Weird, and wrong, and kind of home.
You turned to Malcolm, who was staring at you but not saying anything quite yet. Good. Silently, you slipped inside and straight up to your room, like the walls could protect you from the mess that you knew was about to unfold. Calmly, you sat yourself on the edge of the bed and looked up to where Malcolm stood, arms crossed.
“What the hell is going on?” He frowned.
You closed your eyes for a breath, trying to keep it together. “Eden-“ You exhaled. “Eden wants to stay here. Like, permanently.”
“And you said no?” He stepped slightly closer. You lack of answer was all the response he needed. He shook his head. “How long have you known?” “Few days now.”
“What the hell?” He threw his arms out, turning away from you. “We’re engaged, were you expecting me to move here?” “No! Of course not!” You knew that was way too much to ask.
“So you were expecting us to work long distance then? Or were you just going to cut me out of your life completely?” You furrowed your brows. What did he want you to say? “Answer me!”
“I didn’t say yes to staying either!” You sprung up, knowing how ridiculous you sounded. “I was only thinking about it because she and Gator asked me to.”
He exhaled through his nose. “Oh, Gator asked you to.” He shook his head. “And were you going to ask me what I thought?”
Your stomach twisted. You weren’t. You weren’t going to ask your own fiancé about this major life decision. “I-“
“You know I care about Eden too right?” “Of course I do.”
“So you were just going to take her away from me?” Your lip trembled. Not again. “No.” You breathed.
“So what was the plan?” You blinked, mouth open but no words falling out. He rolled his eyes at your lack of response. “Did you actually even think about any of this?” He pushed his fingers to his temple, leaning into your face. “God, do you ever think at all?”
Your chest cracked. “What’s that meant to mean?” “Gee, I don’t know.” He leaned back, the sarcasm dripping in his voice. “You got yourself pregnant at 17, ran away from any stability you had, then when you finally find someone to help you out, you come running back here where nobody wants you. I heard the rumors, and you know what, I’m starting to think they were right. You’re so selfish.” Your heart felt like it was shattering with each syllable. This is why you didn’t want him here. Want him knowing your real life. He was seeing the real you. And when he did, he was just like everyone else. Worst of all, maybe he was right. “Look at you, you’ve got nothing to say. You know I’m right.” He turned away from you again, reaching for his suitcase. No. No, he couldn’t leave.
“Malcolm, I don’t know why you’re acting like this.” You shakily reached for his arm and he shrugged you off.
“Because I’ve spent so much time on you.” He shot up so you couldn’t keep crowding his space. “I came all the way here. I neglected my job.”
“I never asked you to do that.”
“Oh, and if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have turned to Gator the first chance you got?” He spat.
“Of course not! Are you crazy?” You felt yourself starting to get dizzy at his words. Is that why he came all the way here? To make sure you didn’t cheat on him? And you had dared to think it was because he actually cared about you.
“So what’s going on?”
“I-” You sputtered, brain racing. What were you meant to say? “He’s the father of my child- What do you-”
“But it’s not just that! He’s everywhere I turn! Everything I hear!”
“Well, we haven’t seen him in nine years and we’re living in his home!”
“Yeah! That’s weird. You’re my fiancé. Did you forget that?” He pressed a finger so hard into his chest, you were sure he would bruise it. Your heart was speeding up, beginning to wonder if he’d bruise anything else. “Why is he here? Why is he living with you?”
Maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t think. “I don’t- Eden wants to reco-”
“Don’t bullshit me!”
“I’m not.”
“You fucked him. Just admit it.”
You choked up at the accusation. Sure, things had been complicated with Gator but never once had you acted on it. The words of the town were now being spouted from the mouth of the one person you thought you could trust. Stupid. Selfish. Slut. “No. We never-”
“Doesn’t matter. I can’t trust you. You’ve been lying to me about everything.” He began storming towards the bedroom door. You should’ve let him take a breath, but you couldn’t.
“Not everything! I didn’t want to tell you about my parents,” You stepped forward, steering him back inside. “But I never lied about how I feel about us.” You reached for his arm again, turning him to you. “I love you. I want you. I’ve never wanted Gator.”
“Liar!” There was a loud cracking sound as his fist met the wall. Mere inches from your face.
And just like that, you were thirteen years old again, watching your mother and father argue.
It never stopped with the wall.
You choked as if his hand had already found your throat, heart racing a mile a minute. Only one word was able to escape. “Leave.”
He looked at the hole he has just created, looked at you — frozen in place, trying to keep what little breath you had left. Exhaled, like he was still furious at you. And walked away.
You heard the front door slam shut but could barely register it over the ringing in your ears. Everything was distant. Your head spun, trying to keep you in this reality. The one where you were fine. You weren’t your mother. And yet, your body seemed to believe the opposite. Your legs gave way, your breaths went short. It was impossible to breathe when your memories had their feet pressed tight on your airway.
The front door opened again, and you heard Eden’s voice calling up. “Don’t mind us! Just popped in to get my purse.” When you didn’t respond, she called out for you. Again and again. You couldn’t say a word, completely lost in the chaos of your own body. Her voice blended into yours, screaming for your mom when you saw your father hit her.
Heavy footfalls came up the stairs and you recognized them even through this state.
Gator’s face was in front of yours. “Hey. ‘S going on?” You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t breathe.
“Mom?” You wanted to respond to Eden’s frantic voice. You wanted to do anything.
“Are y’- I-”
“What’s going on? Is she ok? Mom?”
You heard their voices overlapping but you couldn’t focus on the movements. It was like the world was caving in beneath your feet. It was ending. It was all ending. Thirteen. Shouting. Fists. Your mother on the floor. You swore to yourself never again.
You swore you wouldn’t let your daughter go through the same thing. Fifteen. You yelling. Your father’s voice drowning it out. The first time he punched you.
“Need y’ to look at me. Look at me.” Sixteen. Dishes breaking. Blood. You used plastic from then on. It was never going to be ok. You’d fucked it all up. They were still fussing over you. You couldn’t even understand it. Look what you did. You made Eden worry. The more her voice shook, and called for you, the more your heart raced. At some point, Gator yelled something about “Go to your room!” And that just made your heart pound faster. Seventeen. Freedom. Independence. Finding out that no matter where you went, you couldn’t escape the violence. But then you felt a warmth on your arm. Gentle. The feet on your throat loosened a little. “Baby, calm down.” You couldn’t just calm down. “Just…fuck I don’t know. ‘M here.” He kept rubbing up and down your arm, and you tried to focus on the soft touch. Soft. You weren’t breaking. “You’re ok. You’re safe.” It was those words that made the hold finally release and you could breathe again. Slowly, air returned to your lungs. Your surroundings came back into focus. “You with me, Dove?” You nodded, swallowing thickly. He pulled you to your bed, eyebrows pressed together as he studied you like a foreign specimen. Once you were seated, with your head against the board, he hesitantly took his arms off you. “Gonna get you some water. Just…maybe lie down.”
Your voice had finally returned and you only wanted to do one thing. “I’m- I- Gotta apologize to Eden.” You’d already scared her. Not just scared, but scarred.
“Woah, woah.” He held an arm in front of you, stopping you from moving. “It’s ok. Y’ can take a second.” His eyes didn’t drift from the wall, jaw tense. “I’ll be back.” Then he left. So you were all alone, staring at the hole made in your wall that was, really, your fault.
You were back here again — thinking your deluded little fantasies of someone keeping you happy and safe would actually come true. It took you eight years to dare to trust someone again and this is where it landed you. Well, maybe that was the problem. You hadn’t trusted him all the way, had you? All the lies and fights were because of you. The decade you had spent trying to stop your daughter from feeling the same way you used to was all for nothing. She had just watched you fall apart without Malcolm even laying a hand on you. Try as you might, Malcolm was right, you were nothing but a scared little girl who was pretending she knew what she was doing. And Eden just saw through it. You were a failure.
Just then, you heard a voice from Eden’s room — gruff but low. “‘M sorry.” Gator was…apologizing? Yes, he had done it before. Rarely and usually far too late. “Shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, kiddo.” You slowly stood up, approaching the hall. You were like a newborn gazelle, finding your footing. You rested right near the door, careful not to alert them of your presence.
“It’s ok.” You heard her voice croak back. She’d been crying.
“No.” Gator stressed. “I was…scared for your mom, but shouldn’t have made that your problem.” You couldn’t believe how gently he was speaking. How his voice shook when he said he was scared for you.
“What happened to her?” God, she sounded so broken.
“Dunno.” He sighed. “We gotta look out for her, yeah?” Your heart clenched when you heard that.
“No.” You stepped into the room then and they both looked to you like you could break into a thousand pieces. “You don’t have to look out for me. Ok, hon?” You crouched down so you were meeting her eyes where she laid on the bed. “I’m your mom, I look after you.”
“Hey…” Gator tried to interrupt but you wouldn’t let him.
“I just got a little scared, ok? And I’m really sorry that it scared you too.” She shook her head. “Did Malcolm do that though? Did he hur-“ “No. No, no. I’m fine, hon. Just fine.” You were trying your best to smile. You would rather this than have her patch you up.
She sighed. “Mom-”
“I’m perfect.” You repeated. “Cause I have you.” You kissed the top of her head, praying that would get her to stop asking questions. “And your dad.” You turned to Gator, who only stared at you with a flat face as you took his hand in yours. “He was very good today.” They both gave you half-hearted smiles. “Now, I don’t want to be the one that cut your amazing night short, so do you want to grab that purse you were looking for and get out of here?” She opened her mouth to say something. “Honey, go celebrate. You know what, I’ll even push your curfew back a bit. Sound good?” A slow smile crept across her face and she nodded.
As Gator sent Eden off with Tom’s mother again, you retreated to the ensuite in your room. Though your panic attack had subsided, your body was still shaky and you weren’t sure you could face anyone that wasn’t family. Your hands gripped the edge of the sink for some stability, as you inspected yourself in the mirror. Obviously, you looked no different. Malcolm hadn’t even made contact with you, so why did your insides feel like they were being torn apart? You were never one to bruise easily, and you always hated that about yourself. It was sick, but there was a part of you that wanted it. Like maybe, if there was proof of the pain, it would make it okay to feel the way you did. And maybe, someone would notice.
“Hey.” You turned to see Gator leaned against the bedroom door, his hair flying loose and falling in front of his eyes. He looked as much of a mess as you felt. “How you feelin’?” You straightened yourself up, exiting out of the bathroom. “Fine.” “Perfect?” He looked accusatorially at you, and you didn’t say a word. “Y’ need to stop lying to her. Everyone.” You rolled your eyes, an exhale escaping from your nose as you sat back down on the bed. You didn’t need a lecture from him about how to deal with this. If he had it his way, he would probably tell her it was fine because you deserved it. His eyes drifted to the hole and he tapped his fingers against his thigh. “I wasn’t. Y’know…good today. Haven’t been.” You looked at his face, guilt swimming in his eyes. That was Roy’s voice you were hearing again. He shuffled in his place at the front door, unable to take his eyes off the hole. “Has that happened before?”
“No.” You couldn’t help the guilt you felt in your stomach. You were the one that drove him there, weren’t you?
“And your…” He finally ripped his gaze away to look at you. “Reaction?”
Your stomach turned slightly. Telling him about your family was hard enough, but telling him about how pathetically your body reacted to it was another deal. “Uh- It was just a panic attack.”
His eyebrows raised, foot lingering through the doorway. “You’ve had those before?”
“Oh, yeah. Used to get them a lot a few years ago.”
“When we were together?” You just nodded. At that, his entire face dropped. His foot finally hit the ground with a thud, entering your room again. “How did I never-“
“You weren’t home.” Which is exactly why you got them. Being anywhere near Roy, watching how Nadine became a shell of herself, seeing the reaction after she ran away. He blinked his eyes, like that movement would keep his body together. “Well how do you…I wanna be better next time. How do I help? Teach me how to help.” Next time. You weren’t sure whether it was worse if there was a next time, or the idea that you’d still be here. And you certainly didn’t acknowledge how the thought of having Gator there for you made it feel a bit easier. You simply patted the space next to you on the bed.
Gator hesitated for half a second, before taking his spot.
You used to sit like this a lot. His side of the bed and yours apparently still the exact same. You took a deep breath, trying to get the words out. To say this was uncharted territory was an understatement. Where would you start on teaching Gator about your mental health and how to deal with it. “Well, don’t tell me to calm down.” You chuckled. Part of you didn’t want to get to the serious stuff. But Gator nodded, already filing the information somewhere important. “I can struggle to talk sometimes but if you can, get me to try and count backwards from 100 or recite the alphabet.” He quirked his eyebrow. “I know it sounds silly. But when I’m panicking, it feels like I’m going to die. Even though I know I’m not.” Your throat felt thick even thinking about it again. Where you had been not even an hour ago. You were sure if Gator hadn’t seen it, he might be rolling his eyes at you too. “So something like that…sort of grounds you. You know?” You could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn’t quite understand, but he didn’t question or laugh. “If that doesn’t work, just try to remind me of happy things. And speak. You did…you did a good job. With what you said.” He nodded intently, looking to the side and mouthing the words quietly. It was kind of adorable. As a silence fell over you, you saw his knee shaking on the bed — impatient to ask something else, but not wanting to push. Taking a step back for once. “Yes, Gator?”
“But what can I do to stop it from happenin’?”
You laughed. “You can’t stop it, Gator.”
He looked at you like you were speaking a foreign language. “Yes, you can. If y’know why it happens, just stop it.”
You rolled your eyes. It was surprising to you that he had even been open to listening to this, so you had to be patient. “When I have a panic attack, it’s cause my body thinks I’m in danger. And a lot of the time, it’s when I remember things that made me scared. So if you find a way for me to forget that stuff, please let me know.”
Gator’s fist tightened on the sheet. “Wish I knew.” It was said behind a small laugh, like somehow any of this was funny. It split your heart in two. You knew Gator had been through all the same stuff you had. Actually, far worse. But he just carried it, pretending nothing was wrong. So how could he look at everything that happened to you any differently? If you had stayed in that house, and Eden had seen what Roy did. If Gator, even a tiny sliver of him, could be capable of doing the same, you would’ve regretted it far more than leaving, wouldn’t you? “If I could take it all back, I would.” He mumbled it behind a breath, so quiet you almost didn’t hear, but the words themselves were so loud it left your ears ringing. “How everything went down between us.” You turned to face Gator, watching the way his eyes were focused on you — searching, desperate to fix…well, everything. Fix everyone’s pain, fix things with Eden, fix your relationship with him.
Finally, he was seeing what it had meant for you to live on this ranch. And he was drowning in the thought that he had never noticed. Both of you struggling with the exact same pain, but too stubborn to admit it to each other. You were humiliated that you couldn’t just take it like everyone else you knew, and he was stuck under his father’s thumb. “You ever think…if we lived on our own, we would’ve made it?” Gator vocalized the thought that you had asked him all those years ago. And he’d just laughed.
“I don’t know, Gator.” Without Roy in your life, perhaps.
“Like to think we coulda been a family. You, me and Edie.” You could imagine it right now. A family supper that didn’t involve you and Nadine cooking for half of it while Roy sat at the table, picking apart every wrong thing that you two were doing. You not having to choke back tears seeing Nadine’s bruised up face, wondering if tonight would be the night Gator snapped just like every other man in your life. You knowing he’d come back home at all. And when he did, the two of you could just settle on the couch, doing nothing but talking. About Eden’s first day of school, about how your new job was, everything he had missed out on. You could have been honest with each other. You could’ve felt safe. Your chest fluttered at the thought.
“Yeah.” You breathed, shuffling an inch closer without even meaning to.
His hand came up to cup your cheek, swiping away a tear on your eye. Gently, his fingers moved along your temple, down your eyebrow, past your nose, across your cheekbone. Tracing. “Coulda loved you right.” He whispered. And that was the truth you were reminded of as you listened back to those voicemails — if you could have gone back into the past and changed it, the one thing you would have kept the same was Gator. The first time that you met him, the moments you spent falling in love, when it all caved and you gave in to your feelings.
Like now.
“Still could.” He let out a shaky breath that fanned over your lips. And then, finally, he closed the gap. And for the first time in nine years, you were kissing Gator Tillman. This time when you kissed him, it was like landing on the moon. He took away the thing that had been weighing you down for your entire life, and made you float.
He tasted sweeter than he used to. Maybe it was the cookie dough ice cream still lingering on his lips, or maybe it was just him now. But there was still that sharpness underneath, the one that took you right back to your youth. And hungry for more. You shifted closer, your hand coming up to grip his neck as your tongue swiped his lip. He pulled back for a second, eyes searching yours in a silent question. You began to form a nod and his lips were back on yours before you could even stop the movement. And as your tongues slid slowly against each other, Gator couldn’t stop the groan that fell from his lips. His hands slid down your body ever so slowly, electricity shooting from his fingertips as he caressed your neck, your shoulders, your back until they reached your waist. He pulled you towards him softly and you took the opportunity to slide your hands under his shirt. He shivered at your touch, pulling away from you for a second to softly laugh into your neck.
“Is everything alright?” You whispered, running your hand down his front, subconsciously taking note of every new scar that had formed since the last time you felt it.
“Never better.” His greedy lips began to explore down your neck as you both shifted so he was leaning over you. He threw his shirt across the room and reached to help you with your top. “Fuck, wow.” He whispered as he took in your newly exposed skin. The look in his eyes made flowers bloom in your stomach, and you pulled him back down, desperately to feel him as close to you as possible. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous. Shit, I can’t believe this is really happenin’.” The warmth of his skin on yours filled you up in every way possible. Well, almost. He shifted slightly, and you could feel what you really wanted on your thigh.
“Gator,” You murmured against his lips. “Do you have anything?”
“Shit.” Your stomach twisted. You were here, and now that you’d tasted his lips again, you wanted it all. Nine years of trying your best to forget the feeling of his hands on you, pushing down the ache that had been sitting deep in your chest forever. Now you were here, and you couldn’t wait a second longer. He moved his hips against you, like that would make you change your mind. And it almost did, but not quite.
“You remember how we ended up with Eden in the first place, right?” He sighed, knowing your were right, but brought his lips back to yours as he unclasped your bra. He began working his way to your neck, your collarbone, and then, further down. “Gator, what are you-“
“What, like that’s the only thing we can do?” He continued kissing, breaths getting heavier as he approached your thighs. It wasn’t the only thing you could do, and it’s not like Gator hadn’t gone down on you before but, well, he was a teenage boy when your sex life was at its peak, and his main focus was always the same. But right now as he pushed your legs apart, settling himself between them with a hungry look in his eyes, he seemed perfectly content. More so when his tongue actually started exploring, and you both immediately let out a breath at the feeling. Still, you couldn’t help but tease him. “You still need help finding-” You were cut off by your own moan when his lips wrapped around with the perfect suction.
He giggled against your skin. “You gotta be a little quieter than that.” You only pushed your fingers through his messed up hair, and looked at him for a split second and he was leaning back down. You missed him. In any and all ways, and with the way he was devouring you, it seemed the same for him. Between his lips, and his fingers, and him groaning against you, it took you no time to reach the edge, sweating and lost in the feeling as you did.
“Shit, Gator- Keep going- I’m gonna-” He growled eagerly as you did, working you through it, whispering about how good you tasted. He kept his head resting on your thigh as he watched you come down, mesmerized.
And when you did, a thought washed over you. You turned, reaching for the drawer in your nightstand and Gator quickly lifted his head up.
“Did I do somethin’?” His voice was small as he asked but when he spotted what was in your hand, he smiled immediately. Condoms. “Thank fuck.”
When he snatched the box from you and reached in, he paused and you knew why. The packet was almost completely full. In fact, only one had been used. Which was weird because Malcolm had been here for weeks. Before Gator could ask the question, you pulled him back down to you, tugging at the waistband of his pants to get them down. But the way he sighed as you helped him, compelled you to tell him the truth. You ran your fingertips lightly against his chest, and kept your gaze focused there too. “They didn’t fit him.” You admitted, smelling the pretentious smirk that grew on Gator’s face a mile away. You grabbed his face with both hands, kissing it right off him. And he didn’t complain, opening his mouth to you immediately. He was practically shaking as he ripped the package open and so were you, desperate to feel him again.
And then you finally did. “Shit, shit, shit.” He breathed hot against your ear as he sunk into you. “Y’ feel so good. So fuckin’ good.” He was right. You never let yourself think of it, but now that he was actually here, you couldn’t believe you got something this perfect. It was like the two of you belonged. He locked his fingers with yours, squeezing your hand tightly like he had to keep checking that you were actually there. You felt your head spinning, less because of his movements but because of the words he couldn’t stop whispering. Against your hair, lips, your neck,
“I missed y’ so much.”
“You have no idea how long I wanted this.”
“Thought about you every single day since y’ left.”
Your heart fluttered with each word. You’d buried it so deep that you hadn’t even realized just how lonely you had been without him. That ache in your stomach that you had simply gotten used to disappeared with each word he whispered, each press of his lips.
After, breaths heaving, you looked at each other for a long moment. There he was. Your Gator, with the entire world in those eyes. Ever so slowly, he rolled beside you, but never took his arm away, pulling you tight against him, as he peppered more affectionate kisses against your neck. You closed your eyes, pushing back against him so you were even tighter in his hold and he only chuckled. And for once, as the darkness fell over the two of you like a soft blanket, your moment wasn't interrupted by anything else. Not everything was okay, but right now, with Gator next to you, felt like it could be.
For the past nine years, honestly longer, you had done everything alone. It was your city, your house, your job. Then you came here, and it felt like you were walking into a stranger’s life. This was Gator’s town, Gator’s ranch and Gator’s community. But there was one thing you had always shared, no matter what — Eden. And because of her, this chaotic summer had made everything blur. It wasn’t “mine” or “his” anymore, it was ours. As your hearts beat in time, your eyes quickly grew heavy and you fell asleep. In your shared room. In your shared bed.
Together.
.ঌ˚˖ ࣪
taglist (comment to masterlist to be added): @thesecretoftheswan, @aecd27, @wolfiee10, @officerrrfriendly, @steviaorsugar, @valentine-night, @nosebeers, @acdassenza, @literal-tv-menace, @torntaltos, @luminousdoomsellsworld, @pietrothemovie, @megoshh, @djobug, @eleanor-harrington, @stevesbabe10010, @dopeysunflowers, @bells-bookshelf, @itsdjoverr, @ms-mountebank, @ripmornings, @purplequeen64-stuff, @theshiniestgemstone, @adoreyou-ido, @talesofathirtysomethingnothing, @keerygirlie98, @noorgee, @jamdoughnutmagician, @missyd0ll, @redvelvetcupcke1, @scaramou, @hazzaisonfirelol, @kristywidget97, @jorkingtodjo, @kurtsw7rld96, @s3xytosomeone, @harrystylesgirlie
girl, I gotta catch up...
slow collapse ✦ s. harrington
- warning: pretending to handle everything better than you actually are will make you collapse!!! (literally)
- cw: reader faints
the thing nobody tells you about surviving the end of the world multiple times is that eventually your body stops understanding the difference between crisis and normal life.
after a while, panic just becomes routine. sleep becomes optional. eating becomes something you remember other people should probably do.
and grief... it settles into the walls beside you so quietly you almost stop noticing it there.
hawkins felt like that now. just heavy and wrong.
the sky split open above the town like a wound that refused to close, red lightning flickering through the cracks at night while everybody pretended they still knew how to live underneath it.
and somewhere in the middle of all that, you and steve had slowly started missing each other.
not physically but emotionally. like ships passing in fog.
because every second of every day belonged to someone else now.
max still hadn’t woken up.
lucas barely left her bedside unless somebody forced him to shower or sleep. you’d become good at sitting beside him in silence, rubbing slow circles against his back while he talked quietly to max like she could still hear him.
sometimes he read comic books out loud.
sometimes he cried.
sometimes he just stared at her unmoving hand for hours while the record that was already engraved in his head played again.
you stayed anyway.
steve was unraveling in his own quiet way.
ever since that doomed night, something inside him had changed shape.
he smiled less now. laughed less.
and every time dustin looked at him with that hollow kind of heartbreak children shouldn’t carry, steve wore this awful expression like he personally failed him somehow.
like he should’ve dragged eddie back alive with his bare hands.
you’d wake up some nights to steve gasping beside you, sheets twisted around his legs, eyes wide and disoriented from nightmares he never fully explained.
just flashes of bats, blood, and eddie.
and every time it happened, you stayed awake afterward just listening to him breathe because you were terrified he’d wake up hurting again.
which meant you stopped sleeping too.
not intentionally. it just… happened.
days blurred together after that. coffee instead of meals. catnaps in hospital chairs beside lucas pretending you were fine because everyone else seemed worse.
because how could you possibly complain about being tired when max was lying unconscious in a hospital bed and steve looked like grief was eating him alive from the inside out?
so you kept going.
and going.
and going.
until your body finally decided for you that it was done.
the WSQK building smelled faintly like dust, coffee, and overheated wires.
the station had become some weird combination of safehouse and command center over the last few weeks. maps taped to walls. radio equipment scattered across tables. half-empty soda cans everywhere because apparently nobody in hawkins knew how to clean up after themselves during the apocalypse.
robin sat cross-legged on the floor flipping through radio frequencies while nancy argued quietly with jonathan near the bulletin board.
steve leaned against the desk beside you, exhaustion carved deep into the corners of his face while dustin rambled about supply routes.
you hadn’t realized how dizzy you felt until the room tilted slightly.
you blinked hard. focused on the wall.
fine. you were fine.
“…and if we cut through kerley lane we can avoid most of the military checkpoints,” dustin continued.
steve shifted beside you.
his arm brushed yours lightly. you leaned into it for half a second without thinking. he noticed immediately. always.
you saw his eyes flick toward you briefly. concern flashing there before he looked back toward dustin.
“you okay?”
“mhm.”
a lie.
a bad one apparently because his eyebrows pulled together immediately.
before he could ask again, the room spun violently.
your stomach dropped.
then darkness rushed up too fast to stop.
voices came back first.
panicked ones.
“holy shit—”
“move, move—”
“hey! hey, sweetheart, c’mon—”
steve.
your eyes fluttered open slowly to find yourself half-curled against his chest on the floor.
his arms were locked around you so tightly it almost hurt.
good. you liked the pressure.
your head pounded.
“there she is,” robin breathed somewhere nearby.
steve looked wrecked.
actually wrecked.
his face had gone pale beneath the freckles scattered across his cheeks, panic still sitting wide-open in his eyes even after seeing you awake.
“baby,” he said immediately, voice rough. “talk to me.”
you frowned weakly. “m’fine.”
“you passed out.”
instead of replying back you just closed your eyes briefly against another wave of dizziness.
steve’s hand slid behind your neck immediately.
“hey, hey— eyes open.”
you obeyed mostly because his voice sounded so scared it made your chest ache.
nancy crouched beside the two of you.
“when’s the last time you ate?”
you hesitated.
which was apparently answer enough.
steve went very still beside you.
too still.
“today,” you answered weakly.
“what today?” robin asked suspiciously.
“…coffee?”
“oh my-,” she groaned.
nancy sighed softly. “sleep?”
your silence stretched too long.
steve looked down at you slowly.
and suddenly you knew.
he’d figured it out. all of it.
the staying awake after nightmares. the skipped meals. the way you kept quietly taking care of everybody while letting yourself disappear somewhere in the process.
his expression changed instantly.
fear melting into guilt so sharp it almost looked painful.
“jeez,” he whispered.
“i’m okay,” you tried again.
“no, you’re not.”
the words came out rough.
not angry.
worse.
upset.
robin looked between the two of you carefully now, piecing things together.
“wait,” she said slowly. “have you been sleeping at all?”
you looked away.
steve cursed quietly under his breath.
that got everyone’s attention immediately because steve rarely cursed like that unless he was genuinely overwhelmed.
he scrubbed a shaky hand over his face before looking back at you.
“why didn’t you tell me?”
“we already had enough going on.”
his face crumpled slightly at that.
like the answer physically hurt him.
nancy stood carefully.
“she probably needs actual food and rest before she tries that again.”
steve nodded immediately before helping you sit up slower this time, one arm firm around your waist.
protective to the point of ridiculousness.
not that you minded right now.
“we’re leaving,” he muttered.
robin softened instantly at the look on his face.
“hey,” she said gently. “she’s okay.”
steve nodded once.
but his grip on you tightened anyway.
the drive back was silent except for the soft hum of the heater.
you curled against the passenger seat with steve’s jacket draped over your lap while he drove one-handed, the other gripping the wheel hard enough his knuckles stayed pale the entire time.
you knew that silence.
it wasn’t anger. it was fear.
when he finally spoke, his voice came out rough around the edges.
“why didn’t you tell me?”
you stared out the window at the ruined streets sliding past.
“i told you. we already have enough going on.”
steve laughed once quietly. completely humorless.
“so your solution was to run yourself into the ground?”
“i’m fine.”
“you passed out.”
you flinched slightly at the sharpness in his voice.
his expression crumpled almost instantly afterward.
“shit,” he breathed softly. “i’m sorry. i’m not mad at you.”
you picked at the sleeve of his jacket quietly.
“kinda sounds like you are.”
“i’m mad at myself.”
that made you look at him.
his jaw tightened briefly before he spoke again.
“i didn’t even notice.”
your chest ached immediately. “steve—”
“you’ve been taking care of everybody,” he continued softly, eyes fixed on the road now. “lucas. max. me. and i just…” his throat bobbed hard. “i let you.”
the guilt in his voice felt unbearable.
you reached over instinctively, resting your hand against his arm. “you didn’t let me do anything.”
he finally glanced at you then. hurt sat so openly across his face it almost stole your breath.
“you stay awake after my nightmares.”
not a question.
your silence answered for you.
steve’s grip tightened painfully on the wheel.
“baby…”
“i didn’t want you waking up alone.”
his expression broke completely at that. because of course that was your reason.
not obligation.
love.
stupid, self-sacrificing love.
you looked down at your lap quietly. “you’ve been having a hard time.”
steve pulled into your driveway but didn’t turn the engine off. instead he just sat there staring forward for a long second before finally whispering,
“so have you.”
that hit harder than expected.
because nobody had really said it.
everyone just assumed you were handling things better because you were quieter about it.
your eyes burned instantly.
“hey.” his voice softened completely now. “c’mere.”
the second he opened his arms, you climbed across the console into him.
exhaustion hit all at once after that.
your body practically melted against his chest while steve wrapped both arms around you so tightly it bordered on desperate.
one hand slid into your hair.
the other rubbed slowly up and down your spine.
“i’m sorry,” you whispered against his shoulder.
“no.” he shook his head immediately. “none of that.”
“i just didn’t wanna make things harder for you.”
his arms tightened painfully around you.
“you passing out in front of me was definitely harder for me.”
a weak laugh escaped you.
steve kissed the side of your head immediately afterward like he needed the reassurance.
“you know you don’t have to earn taking care of yourself, right?” he murmured quietly.
your throat tightened.
because that was the problem, wasn’t it?
everyone needed something from you lately.
lucas needed comfort.
max needed hope.
steve needed someone awake beside him after nightmares.
and somewhere along the way you’d started treating your own needs like optional things you could come back to later.
except later never came.
you pressed your face closer into his neck.
“i was scared if i slept you’d have another nightmare.”
steve actually made the saddest sound at that. his hand cradled the back of your head carefully.
“baby, i’d rather wake up from a hundred nightmares than have you destroy yourself trying to protect me from them.”
tears burned behind your eyes immediately.
he pulled back just enough to look at you then, both hands warm against your face.
“you matter too,” he said softly, firmly. “not less than everybody else. not after everybody else. too.”
your lips trembled.
steve brushed his thumb beneath one of your eyes before it could fall.
“i need you taking care of yourself,” he whispered. “because i love you. because i can’t lose you too.”
too.
the word hung heavy between you both.
you finally understood then. this wasn’t just fear from today. steve had been watching people slip through his fingers for years now.
he couldn’t handle almost losing you too.
you leaned forward first, pressing your forehead against his. “you’re not gonna lose me.”
his eyes shut briefly. “then stop scaring the shit outta me.”
a watery laugh escaped you.
“okay.”
“okay?” he repeated skeptically.
“okay,” you whispered again.
steve looked at you for another long second before nodding once, satisfied enough for now.
then immediately slipping back into caretaker mode.
“alright.” he brushed your hair back gently. “here’s what’s gonna happen.”
you smiled faintly. “bossy.”
“extremely.” he kissed your forehead once. “you’re eating real food, taking a shower, and sleeping for at least twelve hours.”
“steve—”
“non-negotiable.”
you rolled your eyes weakly.
he softened instantly at the sight of it.
finally.
there she is.
he kissed your temple this time.
then your cheek.
then the corner of your mouth.
all soft and careful and lingering.
like love translated best through touch when words stopped being enough.
“i got you,” he murmured quietly against your skin.
and for the first time in months, you let yourself stop holding everything alone.
likes, reblogs, and comments are much appreciated <3
🏷️ @hesdebility
maneater (18+)
pairing: steve harrington x reader
contains: sub/bottom!steve; gender unspecified reader; reader has a vagina and breasts; teasing; bit of mean!reader; desperation; begging; a HINT of puppy play; steve cums twice!!; unprotected piv; dirty talk; praise; some degradation/humiliation; steve big cock harrington (so painful sex for a split sec); breeding kink (also just a mention); some aftercare :)
a note from the author: i hope you guys like!!! a rare sub!steve treat for you on this spring evening 🫶🏻
You lean in. You pull back. Steve tries to chase you.
You lean in again. Steve’s close to winning, but you pull back just in time, his lips hardly brushing against yours.
His eyes narrow at you, frustration evident. You smile, eyes hooded.
“You know the rules.”
He huffs. Acts like he didn’t tell you in a drunken stupor two days ago that he wants you to call the shots.
“You’re fun to tease,” you say, leaning forward again, rubbing the tip of your nose against his. His eyes flutter shut, lips pursing, but you pull away before he has the pleasure.
Steve’s hands shoot up from the couch beside him, and you stop them right before he gets his hand on the nape of your neck and the small of your back. You tut at him, shaking your head, and press his eager hands back into the cushion.
“Please,” he whimpers.
You tuck his hair behind his ear, looking at him lovingly. “Please, what?”
His cheeks are pink. “Let me kiss you. Wanna kiss you so bad.”
You hum. “You don’t get to kiss me. You’re not in charge here, Harrington.”
You run your finger down the bridge of his nose. Steve’s eyes almost cross.
“Please kiss me,” he revises. He adds another please, but it’s hardly above a whisper.
“If you insist.”
His eyes shut again, his pretty face relaxing - relieved. You lean forward, cupping his warm cheeks with your hands, and press a light kiss to his lips.
You pull back a little. He’s expecting more, like that was just a warm up.
It wasn’t.
“Happy now?” you ask.
Steve groans. His head falls back against the couch, his jaw clenched.
You simply giggle.
“Baby,” he says, lifting his head to look at you. Beside him, his fingers flex. “What do I have to do, huh? Begging isn’t enough?”
You shake your head, biting your lip. You move forward to press your lips against his ear.
“Tell me every little thing you want me to do to you.”
To be a bitch, you grind down on his cock. He shivers, cock kicking in his jeans.
You know it’s hard for him to ask for what he wants like this. He usually just gets it, no begging required. It’s awkward, takes him a while to find his words. You watch with glee - it’s very hot to bitch him out.
“Want you to kiss me,” Steve starts. He keeps his eyes closed, and you don’t push it. “I want you to kiss me ‘til it’s hard for me to breathe.”
He shifts, groaning slightly as his cock ruts against you.
“And I want… I want you to give me hickeys.”
“Where?”
His hands twitch, but he stops himself. “My neck.”
You lean in once again, pressing your lips against his sensitive skin. He sighs as you kiss along his jawline.
“What else?”
“I want you to ride me,” he groans. “And when I cum… I want you to keep going.”
You grin, nibbling at him. “Where do you want to cum?”
“Inside,” he rushes out. “Please.”
“Hm. I’ll consider it.” You bite his earlobe. “Anything else?”
He whimpers. “Want you to praise me,” he says quietly.
You laugh breathily, making his skin prickle. “Then lose the attitude.”
You feel him swallow against your lips as you kiss along the skin, waiting until he whimpers at a particularly sensitive spot before sucking. He tastes fresh, a little salty. You lick up his neck and he gasps, hips bucking.
“Want me to mark you up so people know you’re mine, huh?” you whisper. “Maybe I should keep you on a leash, show everyone who owns you.”
“Oh my God,” he groans, his head falling back. You smile, sucking on his pulse point.
“Yeah? Wanna be my puppy, Steve?”
He nods, face red and radiating heat.
You kiss downwards towards the base of his neck, featherlight kisses placed against his scar. “Might as well. You’re acting like a bitch in heat.”
“Please,” he groans.
You gently bite his collarbone and pull away. He looks wrecked, face red, jaw clenched. “What is it, honey?”
“Kiss me,” he whimpers.
You trail your finger across his collarbones, staring into his eyes. He’s pleading, really selling the whole puppy thing. “If you could choose, would you rather kiss me or fuck me?”
“Kiss you.” He doesn’t even have to think about it.
Your cheeks heat now. “You’re such a romantic,” you coo. “Are you just being sweet with me to get what you want?”
Steve shakes his head viciously. “I’m - it’s the truth.”
Taking pity on him, you cup his jaw.
“No hands,” you remind, before pressing your lips to his.
You linger. You don’t quite kiss him hard, but it’s much firmer and longer than what he was previously given. Steve pants against your lips, hands clenching beside you.
You hardly pull away when you ask, “What would you do if I let you touch me?”
“I’d give you everything you want.”
It’s so tempting. There’s not a lot more that you love in this universe than having Steve’s strong arms around you, keeping you pressed to him. He’s always acting like he’s scared to lose you - everyone in his life, in fact - and you can’t quite figure out why.
“If you touch me, will you let me be in charge?”
He nods, coffee-brown pupils blown.
You hop off of his lap and he whines, reaching out for you.
“Relax,” you say, leaning forward to kiss the top of his head. “Pants and underwear off, honey.”
He moves fast with wide eyes and watches you remove your own clothes. You stay in your bra. It’s thin, and Steve’s eyes immediately hyperfixate on your tits. Your eyes trail down to his cock, painfully hard, tip pink and swollen.
You climb back onto him, straddling his thigh. Steve gasps, hands hovering, waiting for your permission.
“You’re so wet.”
“All for you, pretty boy.”
You take his hands and gently guide them to your hips. His hands immediately find purchase, fingers groping at the soft flesh.
“Don’t try to lead, Steve.”
He shakes his head as if he’d never even think about it.
He sighs as you move, eyes boring into the sight of your slick on his thigh. He sounds like you’re really fucking him, even though his cock is sitting neglected beside you. You glance down to watch it kick on its own, so heavy and lonely.
You bring your hand up to his mouth. “Spit.”
Steve’s eyes focus in. “Huh?”
“Spit, Steve.”
Confused, embarrassed, he does as he’s told.
“Again.”
He gives you much more to work with this time. Your hand snakes down to wrap around his aching cock and he gasps, hips jerking up into your fist.
“Uh-uh,” you chastise, loosening your grip.
“Christ, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please please please give it back!”
You’d never say no to him when he begs like that.
You stroke him in tandem to your hips movements, slow and drawn out. He’s sweating, making such an effort to stay still. His fingers bruise your skin, but you don’t quite mind it.
“You’re so goddamn hot when you beg,” you say, leaning forward to kiss him just a little. “Love seeing you like this. Big, strong Steve Harrington reduced to a little plaything.”
His cock pulses in your palm while his eyes roll back. His neck looks so pretty on display, your hickeys littering the skin, tendons flexing, that little silver scar around his collar like a necklace.
“You really are a good boy, Steve,” you continue, twisting your hand while he pants. “Always so eager to please. So sweet.”
“I love you,” he mumbles.
“I love you, too. Don’t get cute.”
“I need you,” he whimpers.
“Want another kiss?”
He nods, and you lean in. Just as your lips touch, you pull away again, teasing him like before.
He groans, sounding more frustrated than ever. “You’re killin’ me.”
“What’re you gonna do it about it, huh? Gonna pin me down, make me take it? Or is that my job?”
You clit throbs against his thigh, dragging slowly while you watch him short circuit. You bring your hand to your own mouth, spitting before jerking him off again.
“I think you like being out of control,” you sigh. “I think you like it when someone tells you what to do. Don’t you?”
He nods fervently, messy hair falling over his forehead. He squeezes his eyes shut, as if he can’t look at you.
“Then let me give you a task,” you say, moving off of his thigh to straddle both of his legs, the tip of his cock kissing your clit.
You take his hand from your hip and move it between your thighs. “Get me ready for you.”
There’s no hesitation. Steve has two fingers buried inside of you before you can process it, and you moan loudly. His fingers crook up right against the spot you like, making your legs shake.
“Good boy,” you moan, throwing your arms around his neck. “This - this is f-for me, not you.”
His fat cock leaks, anyway. Steve’s knuckles rub against it with every push and pull of his middle and ring fingers.
His thumb swipes across your clit, your nipples perking as he works on you. His eyes are glued to them, lips parted.
“Y’want my tits, too?”
He whines and nods. “Please, please, please give me something.”
“Your fingers in my cunt not enough?”
“I - I -“
“You’re so pussy drunk,” you pant. “Does - does your cock hurt?”
He nods up at you, pouting. His pace doubles down, pressing against your sweet spots firmly and consistently.
“Y’know I need one more,” you say, and he’s slipping his index finger into you, too.
The stretch is uncomfortable, but you’re happy to take the temporary pain.
“So good.” He’s praising you.
You laugh. “You’re my good - my good b-boy, stretching me out so sweet.”
You sink down onto his cock without much warning. So little warning, in fact, that he shouts. Let’s out a little “ah!” and swiftly bucks his hips upward, his hands grabbing your waist. You wince hard, the stretch too much, pain shooting through your pelvis.
“I’m sorry!” he says quickly. He breaks the no-hands rule to cup your cheeks, wiping stinging tears from your eyes. “I didn’t - you didn’t tell me —“
You shake your head, taking a deep breath.
Steve, his own eyes watering, grabs your hips and tries to haul you off, but you glare at him.
“Don’t pull out.”
You hear his breath catch in his throat as he stills. He looks confused, thick brows furrowing together, his chest and face red.
“Need a second,” you whimper. “No apologies, Stevie, my fault for not warning you.”
Kindly, Steve’s thumb finds your clit and he rubs gentle circles into it. You relax a bit, the pain slowly - so slowly - dulling.
“Good boy,” you whisper. “Making me feel so good after splitting me open on your cock.”
He groans. A bead of sweat trails down his temple.
Your chest heaves, trying to catch your breath, to focus on anything other than the stretch. “Tell me how my pussy feels.”
Steve swallows hard, his thumb still helping you through it.
“It’s - it’s really - uh, it’s really t-tight. So goddamn tight. And wet, and hot… You - you’re soft.” He shakes his head, widened eyes meeting yours. “I’m not gonna last.”
Steve’s words and work on your clit have your stomach tightening, the pain subsiding.
“You’re going to last, Steve,” you say, lifting up slowly. The relief is immense, but you feel so empty. “You better hold it until I cum. Got it?”
He groans but nods.
“Might as well keep touching me,” you say, giving the tip of his nose a quick kiss. “Need you to keep rubbing my clit, ‘kay? You wanna touch my tits?”
He nods again, eyes hooded. Probably feels so cold without your cunt on his shaft, just the tip inside.
You take one of his hands and move it to your breast. “Not allowed to touch anywhere else. No moving your hips, either. You’re going to take what I give you.”
“I’ll take it,” he agrees.
You sit down without warning and Steve gasps loudly. His thighs tighten under your ass and he grits his teeth, throwing his head back.
“Come on, Steve,” you strain, “touch me.”
He rambles while you ride him, his fingers pinching and pulling at your lace covered nipples and clit. You ride him slowly, looking down at him with your brows stitched together. He’s so gorgeous, so pretty when you get on top. So frazzled and needy. Your hickeys have since turned purple, the bruises on his skin blooming like violets.
You attach your lips to his neck again.
“Ohhhh phhhuuuck,” he groans, the hand on your breast squeezing.
“You feel so good, Steve.” You nip at his jaw and tickle under his ear with the tip of your nose. “Fat fucking cock fills me up so good.”
His eyes roll back. His throat vibrates under your lips.
“Shouldn’t … I shouldn’t have taken i-it so easy on you.” It’s hard to speak, your pleasure growing. “May- maybe I should just sit on you- your cock, keep it warm instead.”
“No no no no no,” he rushes out, shaking his head. “Gotta cum, please let me cum, oh my God.”
“But we just started,” you breathe, picking up your pace. You lift your head to look at him, watching him desperately try to keep his head on. “What’s the fun in that?”
You notice that his thumb has began to move faster, too. He’s clearly trying to get you to cum quickly. And it almost works. Stomach tightening, cunt throbbing around his shaft, and you know it would feel so good to clench down on him and take his cum.
But you maintain your composure.
“No cheating,” you pant.
“Not… I’m not,” he slurs. “Want you t’feel good.”
You laugh breathlessly. “Aren’t you sweet?”
“Lemme help,” he whines, rubbing his thumb over your nipple. “Wanna taste.”
Your pussy aches. “Through my bra.”
He lurches forward to suck and kiss at your tits, dampening the fabric with his spit. It feels so good, the rough lace rubbing against your nipple with each swipe of his tongue. He’s a great multitasker, too, still doing his best with your clit.
You’ve never heard him sound so slutty. He moans, groans, sucks, licks loudly. It’s such a turn on, your stomach flipping, your breaths growing heavy.
“Good boy,” you whimper, moving as fast as your legs will allow you. “So fucking pretty and hot, Steve, l-look at you, Christ. Make - make me feel so good. Y’r so big, f-fillin’ me up - y’gonna cum in me?”
“Please!”
Your legs are sore, shaking at the exertion. You press yourself against his chest, bracing yourself on him.
Your lips ghost over the shell of his ear. You feel him shiver.
“Fuck me.”
Ever obedient, he obeys. Planting his feet, he adjusts his hand to grip your hip and snaps his own up into you.
He fucks like it’s the last time he ever will. Like it’s the last time he’ll ever feel your sweet cunt around him. He groans expletives into the crook of your shoulder, biting your skin, sucking on your neck.
“Shit!” you gasp, your back arching.
Steve moves his arms to wrap around you, keeping you pressed against his chest.
He’s not allowed to do that. But you feel too good to stop him, so you decide to create some equilibrium. Your hands curl into his hair and you tug harshly, forcing his head back, the prettiest noise sneaking out past his lips.
“Gonna make me cum?” you grit, feeling your climax nearing. You don’t even need him to coax you with a finger on your clit. “Y’gonna f-fill my pussy up?”
“Fuck!”
You smash your lips against his, teeth colliding. It’s not a loving kiss - it’s ownership. You own him.
The moment Steve licks into your mouth, you’re done. Body tensing and trembling, you tighten around his cock and cum, hard and swift. He fucks you though it, though he’s whimpering loudly.
He won’t cum until you tell him to.
Using your remaining strength, you put your lips to his ear once more.
Smiling deviously, you whisper, “Fuck a baby into me.”
It’s comical how fast it takes him over the edge. His teeth bite into your shoulder and he groans, slurs out some words that you can’t understand. His warm cock pistons in and out of you until he buries himself all the way inside of you. The pressure is immense, but feeling the warmth of his cum fill you makes it worth it.
Steve’s still panting when you pull back. He’s blissed, fucked out, sweating and red. He smells like sex and sweat and sandalwood. You lean forward to kiss him, nice and soft and sweet, cupping his burning cheeks.
“So good for me, Stevie,” you murmur between kisses. “My beautiful boy, did so good.”
Steve nods, a lopsided grin spreading across his face, eyes almost closed. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
Your legs still shake, but you do as he requested before. You don’t stop. Your cunt is swollen and sore but you slide up and down his shaft slowly, gasping softly with each rise and fall.
“Hey,” he gasps, digging his nails into your skin. “Baby - woah.”
“You said you wanted me to keep goin’.” You play with the hair at the nape of his neck.
He throws his head back, groaning long and deep, writhing beneath you.
“Too much,” he breathes.
“Thought you wanted this, honey. Doesn’t my pussy feel so good? All full of your cum?”
He jerks violently. “Honey — oh my God. Oh my God.”
“Gonna cum again?”
He exhales loudly from his nose. Shakes his head, then nods, then shakes his head again. His stomach ripples and tightens, chest rising and falling rapidly while sweat pools at his hairline.
“Such a fucking slut,” you continue, smiling when he reacts with a whine. “Wanna cum again? Huh? Greedy.”
“I was good,” he chokes out.
And he’s right. It’s his first time, after all. He wasn’t bad for a novice.
“You’re right,” you coo. “Good little slut for me. So handsome when you’re fucked out… cum feels so good in me.” You sink all the way down, resting on his balls, swollen and sensitive. “Look, sweetheart, you’re fucking your cum right back into me.”
You run your nails through the hair on his chest. You lift up once, then down, and he’s cumming again, his back arching and burying himself as far inside of you as he can go.
You kiss around his face, his sweat salty on your lips. With a final peck on his hot cheek, you pinch his side and slide off of him gently, both of you hissing. You press your forehead against his and nuzzle your noses together.
“Hi,” you say softly.
Steve’s still planting. He nods. He can’t speak yet.
“You okay?”
He nods again.
“Let’s lay down, okay?”
You hurt between the legs as you stand unsteadily to let him lay down on the couch. He throws an arm over his eyes and sighs deeply, his spent cock softening on his lower stomach.
“C’mere,” he says hoarsely, reaching for you.
“I’m messy,” you whisper. “And so are you.”
His hand slides downwards, finding your cunt again. You gasp as his fingers weakly slide between your folds, and he groans when he feels his cum slipping out of you.
“Messy,” he repeats, a stupid smile on his face.
“Yeah, you are, too. You want a bath, or just a washcloth?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t go.”
You bite your tongue, trying to suppress a smile as you look at him. “If you get in the bath with me, you can do whatever you want to me tomorrow.”
Steve sighs again, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard.
“Might need a sec,” he pants.
You giggle and kiss his nose. “I’ll start running the water.”
unbelievably horny rn
i loveeeee how u write hurt comfort
could i request a steve x reader fic where they’re dating but they get into an argument and so steve and her are shutting each other out? but maybe he notices she disappeared from a crawl meeting because she’s having a panic attack and she hasn’t really gotten them in a while because steve’s sort of like her anchor but happy ending pls?
⋆˙⟡ i won’t let you down
ᯓ★ steve harrington x f!hopper!reader
⋆.𐙚 ̊ cw — arguing, angst, steve is kinda mean at first, talks about the upside down and getting hurt by a demo, panic attack, fluff, pet names, kissing
⋆.𐙚 ̊ summary — after a heated argument and a few days of space between you and your boyfriend, he finds you panicking over the latest crawl.
⋆.𐙚 ̊ authors note — aww thank you!!!!! and thank you so much for this request because i lowk had so much fun writing it for some reason. i kinda put it together fast so it might not be the best but i like it so
⋆.𐙚 ̊ wc — 3.12k
⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹ please do not copy, rewrite, or repost my works on any other platforms or pages.
it had started with a simple remark. that’s all it was meant to stay at. unfortunately, steve was having an extremely rough day and feeling particularly snappy. and you were more than willing to snap back.
“babe, could you please let your bowl soak once you’re done eating so it’ll be a little easier to clean in the morning?” you requested as you scooped up some of the dinner you’d just made into a bowl for him and set it on the table.
steve shut the door behind him and huffed out a loud breath, clearly annoyed. “seriously? the first thing i hear is about a bowl? no ‘welcome home!’ or ‘how was your twelve-hour shift at the station?’ just dish inventory?”
you stopped and turned to face him, one hand on your hip and the other still holding his food. “i’ve just spent six hours studying for my finals and another hour cooking for you so you would have food ready when you came home. i’m not asking for much, just that you help out a little so i don’t come home to a growing ecosystem in the sink tomorrow.”
he scoffed and ran a hand over his face. “help out a little? i’m working my ass off at the station just to help out a little. i’m tired, babe, okay? my brain is absolutely fried.”
“we’re both tired, steve. that’s the whole point,” you retorted, almost laughing at how selfish he was being. “i have a lot on my plate with school and you’re working late nights, i get that, but that doesn’t mean the apartment is gonna clean itself. i’m not asking you to do it all yourself, i’m just asking you to help me make it easier.”
his jaw ticked as he shook his head. “i do help out. in so many ways. i work all of these shifts so i can pay for things like rent and groceries. maybe i just wanna sit down for five whole minutes without getting an entire performance review. it feels like you don’t even appreciate anything i do.”
a pang hit your chest. you could feel your eyes begin to burn with tears. “wow. you’re gonna go there?” you muttered, your voice a little quieter now and full of hurt. “i told you an apartment wasn’t a good idea. i’m in university and it’s hard to even find time for myself— let alone a job. you knew what you were getting into, so do not put that onto me.”
“nobody’s putting anything onto you. see— this is the issue! you’re always making something into something it isn’t,” he said a little too truthfully. it made your heart squeeze uncomfortably. “i just want to come home and be able to relax and kick my shoes off without the constant nagging and scolding.”
you could feel your heart shattering completely behind your ribs. “fine. if that’s what you want, then i’ll leave it to you.” you placed the bowl down by the stove and turned it off, your appetite suddenly disappearing. “i’m done, steve. we’ve had this conversation before and clearly, you’re not open to suggestions.”
his brows furrowed. “what are you even talking about? i’m exhausted, don’t you see that? i’m sooo sorry if i forget to clean one dish. it’s not like i spent the last twelve hours grinding to support us or anything.” the sarcasm in his voice was sickening.
“you’re not listening to me! we’ve been here before and nothing has changed at all since then,” you spat back, hot tears of pure anger pooling in your waterline. “i don’t care about the money, steve. we’ll figure it out, we always have. it’s about you being here! i feel like i never get to even see you anymore.”
he rolled his eyes and wiped the anger from his face, now replaced with sleepiness. “i’m exhausted, okay? and the second i walk through that door, you’re here to stress me out all over again. the entire world can’t revolve around you at all times, y’know.”
a silent tear rolled down your cheek but steve didn’t falter. he didn’t rush to wipe it and apologize profusely. he didn’t even look guilty. he just stood there and watched. you wiped it furiously with the sleeve of your hoodie and began searching around the kitchen for your car keys.
he sighed like it was inconveniencing him. “what are you doing?” he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose like an annoyed parent.
you finally found them and moved towards the front door, pushing past him in the process. “if you’re so exhausted and stressed out because of me, then i’ll just leave and you can have that relaxing night you so desperately want.”
steve started to follow you. “wait. can you at least put on a jacket? it’s cold out—“
you shut the door before he could finish. hot tears contrasted against the cold night breeze as you rushed to your car. he didn’t chase you outside. he just let you leave.
you drove over to your dads cabin for the night to clear your head and get some advice. hopper was clearly annoyed through the entirety of your story to hear that steve was being a douche to you. el looked like she could fight him at the sight of your tears.
sleeping in your old room should’ve felt nice or nostalgic at the very least. instead, it felt cold and lonely with the memories of you and steve when you were teenagers and fighting monsters together. all of the times you two burst into laughter when hopper came bursting through the door because it was shut instead of three inches. the times where he’d hold you through the night terrors after everything that happened. the mornings where he’d kiss you so soft and sweet before heading off to work. the very few rare times that you could see him and hopper through the crack of your door, bonding over whatever as they made breakfast together and actually laughed.
el must’ve noticed somehow. you still didn’t fully understand how she always knew what you were feeling before you did, but she just knew. there was a soft knock at your door before she slowly pushed it open and muttered a soft, “do you want to have a sleepover in my room?”
that’s how you ended up in her room for the night, practically getting zero sleep at all. you two just talked the entire night while laying side by side in her bed. being her older sister and all, she trusted you with everything. if you were to ask her, she’d say you were the wisest person she’d ever met.
so she talked about mike. told you everything you needed to know about their relationship and more. she let her feelings out completely, something she’d never fully done before with this situation. you could see the physical weight lift off of her chest even in the dark. you listened and gave advice when she asked.
then it was your turn, el desperately wanting to hear what happened. she’d always looked up to the two of you, saying how you guys were like the couples in those cheesy romcoms. you really didn’t have much to complain about like she did other than the fact that he was always working.
steve treated you better than anyone else ever had. your relationship was pretty much a dream come true— besides the whole workaholic thing that only recently started. other then that, he was the perfect boyfriend. it just sucked that one small thing was tearing you two apart.
somewhere along the rant, you two finally knocked out. you were awake a few short hours later and slowly crawling out of her bed to get ready. a quick shower, brush your teeth, wash your face, then head out. hopper was already outside on the porch smoking a cigarette, mumbling something about not being a stranger— which you definitely weren’t, you were over there all the time— as he pecked your forehead and then watched you pull out of the driveway.
when you walked back into the apartment, your brows furrowed. it was completely clean. not a single dish in sight, no crumbs on the dining table, no shoe prints on the floor. hell, it looked like he’d even dusted. you could see his feet hanging off the couch from where you were standing, assuming he’d slept there for the night instead of your shared room.
you quickly grabbed your school bag and headed back out to your car, hurrying before he woke up to head back to the radio station.
your 9:00 am was dreadful when the only thing you could think about was your failing relationship. it was absolutely plaguing your mind and making you feel dreadful and anxious all at once. it was as if there was this big metal chunk just sat on your chest.
you couldn’t focus for the rest of the day. you even tried studying at the library for a little to get some homework done— and also avoid coming home for a little longer— but you barely got through the first page of your book. it was like you were reading over the words but not comprehending them.
after another hour or so of this, you went home to your apartment. steve was in the living room when you walked in. you could see his feet hair peaking over the couch cushions. he didn’t speak and neither did you.
you quickly grabbed a plate and reached into the fridge for some eggos, plopping them down onto the plate before popping them into the microwave. you took the syrup bottle from the pantry and the waffles up to your room before shutting the door. no more interactions between the two of you happened that night.
that’s how the next morning continued as well. it was the weekend now. you got ready to head over to your dad’s cabin while he got ready for the station. was it a little petty when you made eggs and bacon only for you? maybe. but you really didn’t care about that right now. he could pick something up on the way like he often did.
you ate, cleaned your dish, and left without a word. your heart broke a little more the longer you two were silent.
while you and el rotted on the couch, eating junk and watching movies all morning, you heard the radio in the kitchen roar to life. hopper was cooking lunch for the three of you but stopped, urging you two to turn the tv down to listen when robin started giving her code words for a crawl tonight. so much for that peaceful weekend you’d been looking forward to.
the last few crawls had gone horribly wrong. you and hopper were always the ones in the upside down— not by his choice of course. there was one in particular that left you shaken up for a few days after dustin and jonathan got into an argument, ruining steve’s focus as he tried to intervene while driving. they ended up getting off track, leaving you and hopper with no signal and no knowledge on whether it was safe to head to the exit. you’d ended up with a nasty gash up your leg from an encounter with a demo.
you arrived with your family to the station shortly after. steve, robin, jonathan, will, mike, nancy, and joyce were already there waiting. after another few minutes, lucas and dustin finally arrived.
they began running over the plan like they had a hundred times before. you watched the projector screen and listened carefully from your spot beside your sister with your arms crossed over one another.
mike moved to stand at the map, pointing at a street near the high school. your chest tightened. he traced along the length of the road up until he reached hawkins high, tapping on it as he explained something about going back there.
you couldn’t hear him, not a single word. it was all foggy and muffled as if you were underwater. that was the place where you and hopper had gotten lost and attacked by demos. your heart raced so fast it felt like you might actually pass out. usually you had the weight of steve’s hand to calm you. but now everything felt so cold and overwhelming.
the group quickly became one big jumbled mess of words and protests. that was your way out. you quickly slipped upstairs and towards the front door, gasping for air and practically clawing at your neck to try and clear your airway.
steve was annoyed to say the least. one hand rubbed at his temple to soothe the forming headache from all of the chatter and the increasing volume. he let out a huff and glanced over at you to see if you were half as aggravated at he was— a habit he’d picked up on since the start of crawls —only to find your empty chair. his brows furrowed as he glanced around in search of you.
he looked behind him and still found no sign of you. his feet moved around the crowd before he could think. he jogged up the stairs quickly and walked past the shelves, glancing down each aisle to see if you were there. not a single sign. he looked towards the recording area and found nothing. his stomach was starting to turn uncomfortably.
he heard a soft thunk and turned to his right, noticing the door wide open and gently hitting the wall with the force of the wind. he moved quickly out of fear that something might’ve been seriously wrong.
when steve walked out, his heart dropped. he rushed over to your shaking form and gently pulled your hands from your neck. “hey, honey. it’s okay, you’re okay. i’m right here,” he cooed softly, frowning at the red lines on your skin from scratching at it. he’d seen this one too many times. not lately though. that’s what worried him most.
he carefully moved you to sit in the grass with him as he sat across from you, not wanting you crowd your space. “look at me, sweet girl. just keep your eyes on me,” he directed. you still weren’t focused. his hands came up to tenderly cradle your face, the soothing movements of his thumbs on your cheeks made your distracted gaze finally find him. “there you are,” he said with a tiny, encouraging smile. “you’re doing so well, honey. jus’ forget about everything else, ok? it’s just you and me right now. just us.”
you gasped and choked on your sobs, your hands coming up to grab at his wrists. “i can’t—“ you cried, trying so desperately to get any sort of air into your lungs. “steve— i can’t breathe. i can’t—“
he nodded along and gave you another encouraging smile. “you can. you’ve got this, ok? i’m right here with you. just follow my lead,” he said softly, taking in big, exaggerated deep breaths. “nice and slow. i’m right here with you.”
you tried to mimic him, getting quick bursts of air into before you felt your chest start to loosen the slightest bit. his thumbs caught each tear that rolled down your cheeks. “that’s it, honey,” he cooed sweetly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against your own. he held you like you were the most precious, fragile thing in the world. “again. big deep breath, ok? doin’ so good.”
with one more big inhale, you felt your breaths begin to slowly even out again. you moved quickly to wrap your arms around his neck and tuck your head into his chest as you cried. his big arms wrapped around your frame instinctively, gently rubbing circles into your lower back. “better?” he whispered.
you nodded against him slowly and tried to calm your tears. “better,” you confirmed through a cry, holding onto him tighter. “i— i can’t go back there, steve. not yet. the demos— what if they’re still there and—“
he gently shushed you to keep you from working yourself up again, one hand come up to cradle the back of your head. “i know, baby, it’s okay. you don’t have to, not until you’re ready,” he muttered against the side of your head, pressing sweet kisses to your hair. “you only do what you and hopper are comfortable with. we won’t make you do something you don’t want to.”
there was a long pause of silence as he let the words sink in before he was pulling back the slightest bit so he could see your face. “i’m sorry about the other night. everything i said— i didn’t mean it. none of it. i was just so burnt out and it was a really bad day. i took that out on you and that wasn’t fair. i should’ve never said those things,” he apologized, tears brimming in his waterline. “i take it back. all of it. you don’t make me feel like that at all. you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and— and not having you these last few days made me realize how much it’d kill me to really lose you.”
a frown tugged at your lips. “i’m sorry too for getting all snappy and raising my voice at you. i should’ve been more considerate,” you murmured softly. “i appreciate everything you do for us. i’m sorry if i don’t say that enough.”
he shook his head and paced a long, loving kiss to your forehead. “don’t be sorry. you didn’t do anything wrong,” he reassured, a stray tear rolling down his cheek. “that was the reality check i needed. i should’ve been more considerate. you do a lot for us too on top of your busy schedule and i should be helping out more. i just got so caught up in working that i didn’t even realize how much i was hurting you. that’ll never happen again. i promise you.”
you smiled to yourself and nodded. “i love you,” you whispered, wiping the tear from his skin with your thumb.
he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, sighing at the feeling. god, he’d missed this. “i love you,” he whispered with that lovesick grin. “i’m not done apologizing yet. i swear i’m gonna make it up to you.”
you let out a soft giggle and pretended to think for a moment. “can this apology include getting a puppy?”
steve playfully groaned as he leaned forward and peppered gentle kisses to your neck, the crawl meeting long forgotten now. “let me sit on it for a couple hours.”
that was basically a yes.
this had me frowning HARD
I love Steve & roommate reader!!! Perhaps the classic coming up behind her to take something off the shelf that she can’t reach?
I can just imagine poor Steve trying to be as Useful™️ and Boyfriend Material™️ as possible trying to woo his sweet roommate who already loves him regardless and is struggling to hide it.
𑣲 the roommate collection contains: short!reader
You were pretty sure that you had told Steve at least a million times to not put away the mugs on the top shelf. But that man seemed to have an inability to listen to you.
Because once again, you found yourself on the tips of your toes trying to reach the top shelf because your roommate decided to piss you off again.
"I'm going to shave his head," you mutter under your breath, as you lean up—the mugs just out of reach from your fingertips. "I'm going to shave his stupid hair off his stupid head and then—"
"—and then you're going to have to find someone to cover my half of the rent," comes Steve's voice from directly behind you.
You open your mouth to snap back a retort but all thought disappears as one large hand sets itself down onto the kitchen countertop an inch away from your hip. Your breath catches, the witty retort on your tongue dying when he leans in to reach the mugs you couldn't—his chest brushing against the top of your back in a way that made everything around you feel fuzzy.
"Here you go," Steve says in a voice that was a little too low for your likening, the mug you had been trying to reach now set on the countertop in front of you. "Gonna say thank you, roomie?"
Your jaw clenches—there was a small part of you that was annoyed at him but mostly? You were trying hard not to smile, trying not to show Steve how affected you were by the proximity because Steve was still pressed up against you, still making you feel as though your blood was thrumming through your veins.
"I told you not to put the mugs up on the top shelf," you say finally, your mouth feeling uncomfortably dry and yet finding no desire to leave the position you were in. "Do you even listen to me, Steve?"
Steve hums and you shudder as one of long finger dances along the slither of skin on your shoulder that was exposed.
"I listen," he murmurs and the words seem to go right through you, your body feeling too hot all of a sudden. "But sometimes it slips my mind."
"You're such a bad liar."
Steve grins because of course he was lying—he truthfully only did it because it gave him an excuse to check you out. Sue him—he had a hot roommate who he wanted to try and impress.
"I'll try and remember next time," Steve grins as he steps away from you. You feel a sense of disappointment that you can't quite control because little did Steve know, you were just as enamoured by him as he secretly was with you.
And so, you hoped he would continue to place the mugs on the top shelf. Even if it did piss you off a little.
dividers by @pepsipoet
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aw! so CUTE!
WALK OF SHAME
series masterlist
pairing: gator tillman x fem!sex worker!reader
summary: you get more information about marcus' dealings and gator finally gets to learn it too when he gets you in the sack. maybe he learns more about himself too.
wc: 4.5k
warnings/tags: 18+mdni, smut, fingering, piv sex, gator trying to be dominant but failing again, manhandling again, subby gator, finger sucking and come eating, usage of hard drugs implied, misogyny and gator being a misogynist prick, gator's never made a girl finish before *gasp*, as always pics do not represent characters js the vibes
a/n: hey yall hey :))) idk how good this chapter is but im having sm fun w this one, new chapters of here again are loading too, just currently being proofread!! but i hope you enjoy.
⊹ ࣪ ˖𓂇⊹ ࣪ ˖
Marcus’ house is completely different in the daytime, the sun beating down through the floor to ceiling windows shedding light on the previous nights’ debauchery — used whiskey glasses are scattered across the floor, rolled up bills left to the side of an empty tray, not a speck of white dust left on it. Most of the people from last night are gone somehow, despite their deeply intoxicated state and the lack of cabs in Lehigh.
You stumble down the porcelain tile of the atrium, squinting your eyes at the yellow light being let in. It’s not the type of place you’d think typical of a drug dealer —wooden walls and an open floor plan where each room feeds into the next through archways, doors or secret passages. Yes, this place has secret passages like a damn Clue game. You’ve noticed them sometimes when you’re zoning out of sex; how a panel is slightly sticking out from the rest or the bookshelf isn’t quite pushed against the wall.
There’s only one room that stands alone. The one you are walking past now, where you hear low whispers, Marcus’ office. The front door is two steps away. You should just get out of here, take a nice, long shower and hope that no one wants to see you during the day. Instead, you pad your bare feet towards the door, your heels pressed to your side and push your ear to the bright yellow wood.
“You think it’s working?” Marcus asks, his voice deep enough to let you know this is one of those serious conversations where he’s trying to present bigger than he is.
“Nobody’s got anythin’ solid yet.” You hear another voice. One you heard last night but can’t quite place. Peter, maybe? “But it’s not gonna be over for a while still.” Peter! Strange, you think. You expected him to be a small player, considering this was the first time you met him, but here he is, sticking around for hushed one on ones with the big boss.
You realize that the room’s gone quiet.
Somehow, you hear Marcus looking towards the door. A chair scrapes. Footsteps. You quickly turn an rush to the front door, not daring to look back. Just as you fingers close around the doorknob…
“Going home?” Marcus asks, looking you up and down slowly. He has never done anything wrong to you, but he’s got this uncanny ability to give you chills with just his eyes.
“Yeah,” is all you respond, because you don’t ever talk with him in the light of day. He nods, turns back and shuts the door. The click of a lock hits your ears like a final note. You don’t waste a moment getting out of there.
Goodbyes are never a thing between you two. You don’t even know why he pays you to stay the night, considering he spends no time trying to hold you and rarely goes for another round. Maybe he just likes the idea of you being there at his disposal, or just that you’ll do what he asks for the right price. You think what he gets off on the most, though, is the idea of this —you dragging your tired body down the suburban streets of Lehigh, heels in one hand, what’s left of your dignity in the other. The sun shining down over the mess of hair on your head as mascara bleeds from your lashes. Your walk of shame.
He’s wrong about all of it.
You walk from there with your head held high, knowing there would be no way to please this archaic town with “dignity” anyway and you just made more than well, any woman in this town. Your bare feet land comfortably on the gravel road that sizzles under your sin despite the oncoming winter. As you walk, you are only focused on the way the sun illuminates that leaf floating gracefully off a tree, and not the looks people may just give you. This isn’t a walk of shame. It’s a walk of complete and utter satisfaction. Well, almost. Maybe if last night you could have also been satisfied. You snicker to yourself as you continue down the roads with no sidewalks paved out because no cars come around. You walk right in the middle of the road. Miles and miles until you finally get to your house. Well, your daily exercise is sorted, you think, laughing to yourself as you turn the key and step back into heaven.
You aren’t ashamed of your job, far from it, but returning here feels like a ritual cleansing that lifts a weight of your shoulders.
Like you can finally be yourself. Completely.
⊹ ࣪ ˖𓂇⊹ ࣪ ˖
A week after your first job, Gator finally completes his mission. He gets you in the sack.
He barely wastes his time with pleasantries or anything, stuffs the cash in your purse hastily, and then his hands are on you. Up your back, on your chest, on your ass. Anywhere he can as he devours your lips with his own, no pace just pure desire. You’re not complaining. Because you can feel how excited he is, and it makes your stomach flip, knowing he just got off a shift. You love that he was thinking about you during work. That means you’re winning, no matter what he says.
Somehow, all of your clothes come off within the breath you take before pressing your lips back onto his and you’re pinned underneath his hips on the bed, rattling with the sheer force of his kisses. Your hands come to wrap around his shoulders, and immediately, you can feel that they are stiff as a rock. And you notice that something else isn’t stiff. Your palms almost instinctively starts running along his shoulder blades in slow, gentle movements. It’s never fun when they’re like this. For either of you.
His fingers come to your wrist, pinning one hand above your head but letting your other still move. It’s overwhelming you now, and what felt hot five seconds ago is starting to get a little less when you see a focused look in his eyes. This isn’t sex to him. It isn’t business either. It’s how he’s going to prove it to himself. That he is a man. He keeps making a meal out of the side of your neck, licking and sucking as his free hand moves to fix his little downstairs problem. His knuckles graze against your front, teeth nipping at your neck like that’ll distract you from the back and forth movement of his fist. His grip on your wrist gets looser with each unsuccessful stroke, grunts of frustration dissolving under your skin.
“Gator.” You try, wriggling your free hand up to wrap in his locks.
“Thought I told you to call me deputy.” His teeth keep nipping at your neck between words and you swear he’s trying to give himself contact burn at this point.
“Gator.” You repeat, actually tugging his head up this time. He gasps, short and sharp as you direct his face towards your gaze. “You’re gonna hurt yourself. And me.” Your eyes float up to where he had your wrist pinned, and the mark that you’re sure is visible now that his hand is looser. He exhales as he looks, a strange flicker of shock overcoming his face. It isn’t like before. He seems scared of himself. That look vanishes as he rolls off you with a frustrated grunt.
“This is your fuckin’ fault, y’know?”
“My fault?” You sit up so you’re rested against the headboard next to him. Because you dared to suggest that he let go of this idiotic tough guy persona?
“You do some voodoo to me and bring up that bullshit about me ‘letting go’ or whatever, of course I’m gonna be all in my head ‘bout making sure you know the truth. And I’m never in my head.”
“Think I picked up on that, sweetheart.” He doesn’t even look at you, eyes suddenly focused on his fingernails and he sucks his teeth with his tongue. Something about him is so pitiable. It really turns you on. “So why do you care?” His eyebrows furrow together, trying to comprehend your words. “I’m a…‘professional whore’ as you put it.” You’ve learned not be offended by shit like that.
“Why should you, Mr Tillman, give a fuck what I have to think?” It’s like some invisible wire is cut loose on his marionette strings, and his shoulders relax. He turns to you, mouth wide. “Chances are, I forget about you tomorrow.” You lie, shifting so you’re straddling his lap. “And you still have a mission to fulfill…” His hand comes around your waist, pulling you a little closer, eyes going all soft again in an instant. “You should be caring about what those big, bad FBI agents think.” You press your lips to his neck, a lot softer than he did to yours. “What are they gonna say when you come back with nothing. Again.” You sigh behind his ear, your hand running down his chest with featherlight touch.
“Mm.” He lets out sound — part exhale, part moan.
“Tell me what you actually want.” You whisper. His fingers flex lightly on your hips, and quickly he pulls you back into a kiss. A lot slower this time, tongue sliding against yours, and when you begin to take the lead, he doesn’t protest, he encourages it. He pulls away from your lips, mouth dragging hot against your jaw now. “Wanna do what you said.” He murmurs there.
“And what’s that, Gator?” Your eyes can’t help but fall shut at the way he seems to find the perfect spot on your neck.
“Wanna let go.” And you can feel how immediately some of that tension in his body releases at the admission.
You tilt your neck, so it’s just out of his reach, causing him to look up again. “Will you let me help you?”
He blinks back at you, eyes wide. “Yes.” There’s a moment where he looks to the side like someone will show up out of nowhere and catch him in his admission. But they don’t. So he nods again, more confident this time. “Yes, please.”
You start slow with him. Just kissing, letting his tongue slowly explore the expanse of your neck and chest. He’s a lot softer than he was moments before, laving over the marks he just made like an apology, eyes flicking up to you when you let out a soft sigh at the feeling. He’s stiffening beneath you, but you know this isn’t going to be enough. You ease one of the hands wrapped around you off, guiding it to your inner thigh and Gator immediately gets the hint. Two fingers slide into you without care and he begins pumping at a rapid speed. You gasp at the sudden sensation before you can stop it. He locks up at the same time you do, like he understood that wasn’t a noise of pleasure. Instantly, his hand and face are pulled away from you. Shit.
“Knew this was stupid. So fucking stu-“ You cut him off by pressing your lips against his again.
“It’s not stupid.” You sigh. “I’m- I’m surprised you noticed.” His eyebrows push together again, waiting for elaboration. You don’t give it to him. This is about what’s happening now. “You’re fucking me, not mining for gold. And you’ve heard of this thing called a clit right?” He almost chokes on your forwardness. “Just go slower, and be a bit of a tease.”
“You’re the expert at that.” He snorts, but doesn’t hesitate to lock his lips back on your chest as his finger experimentally runs through you. He circles your clit slowly, and you let out an airy moan near his ear. He lets out a low noise in response, like that brings him more satisfaction that anything. “Yeah, Gator. Just like that.”
He tilts his head up again, eyes glimmering at the smallest praise. “Feels good, mama?” Your hips respond to him before you do, searching for friction as you grind against his thigh, feeling your stomach coil up. His free hand rests at your waist, not guiding you, but flexing there every time he hears your satisfied sounds. He’s hard as a rock now, but he doesn’t make move to stop. In fact he slides two fingers down and blinks up to you for permission. “Can I…” The moment you nod he eases them in, slowly stretching you out and you almost choke. “Shit, you’re like…actually wet.” You don’t ask him about that right now, too lost in the feeling. He retracts, pushing them back in even slower this time, circling your clit with his thumb. He prolongs the feeling, savoring all the filthy sounds coming out of your mouth, swallowing them with his own until you are driven insane.
“Faster.” He listens, speeding his fingers up, still a lot more careful than before. “C-curl them.” You explain, and he does, hitting that spot that makes you see actual stars. You experience the crescendo for real this time. When you are right at the edge, you feel him buzzing underneath you. “Yes. So. Good. I-“ Then you spill over, collapsing into his shoulder as he works you through it, him breathing heavily too.
When you feel stable, you lean back, trying to assess the look in his eyes. He is blinking up at you like he can’t believe it, some deep realization striking through his body. “You okay?” You try softly, squirming your hips so that he will pull his fingers out of you.
“I-” His jaw tenses. “I don’t think I’ve ever done that before.” “Fingered someone?” You cock your head to the side, truly shocked. He shakes his head, looks down at his fingers, covered in you. And it hits you harder than the orgasm itself. He’s never made a girl finish before. You’re not sure why you do the next thing that you do. He wanted to let go right? You grab his hand guiding it slowly up to your mouth. He watches with wide eyes as your lips wrap around his fingers, sucking softly. The hum that you let out around his fingers makes him shiver. You reach for his chin and he parts his lips without hesitation, letting you kiss him senseless. He groans as he tastes you on your tongue, sucking on it like he wants more, until you’re both breathless.
You pull back, trying to get some air in your lungs. “Peter Wagner.”
“What?” He asks absentmindedly, eyes raking over your body like he’s still trying to process everything.
“Works with Marcus.”
That grabs his attention, and he scans you up and down. “Who is he? What does he do?”
You shrug. “You’re the deputy. You figure it out.” He sighs, removing his hands from your body like he’s already done with the whole situation. You glance to the clock. “But we still have time for you to get some more information out of me.”
And immediately, he straightens again, a slow smile creeping across his face.
He leans up, capturing your lips with his. This time, his tongue guides yours not in a show of power, but eagerness. He doesn’t waste another moment reaching for the condom that has been waiting on the nightstand like Chekov’s gun, and tears it open. With the way his hands shake, it takes him a few tries to open it and even as he does, you can tell he can barely keep it together.
Slowly, you place your palms on his chest, and at your light push, he leans back. “Let me.” You see the hunger in his eyes at the action, nodding furiously. He watches as you carefully slide the condom on, and position yourself over him, already knowing this is going to be a challenge. Seriously, he has all that to work with and he’s never made a woman orgasm? Taking a deep breath, you lower yourself down onto him, gasping at the feeling. You can’t hear yourself over Gator, though, who’s cursing like a child that just learned those word before.
“Fuck, shit, damn, mama, you’re tight.” He sounds completely in disbelief on the last word. “Thought-“
You press a finger to his lips so he’ll shut up. “Being loose cause you fuck a lot is a myth made up by pricks that can’t make a girl come. You wanna be like them?” He doesn’t respond with words, a half-moan as he tries to shake his head. His eyes eagerly follow your finger as you retract him from his mouth, placing your hand at his hip so you don’t fall. You close your eyes, as you pull yourself almost all the way off, and then sink down again, both of you singing out matching groans at the feeling. When you do it once more, his hands shoot up from where they were lying dormant at his sides and find your hips. “You gonna be good?”
“Yes, yes. I’ll be good.” He chokes on his last words, embarrassed to admit it but needing it.
So you start grinding on him in earnest, entirely at your own pace. And Gator, to his credit, doesn’t once rush you. In fact, his eyes all big just stare at you, completely and utterly mesmerized. And you don’t even feel like you have to perform properly. You can genuinely enjoy it. The noise you let out aren’t fake as the pressure builds, and you get the feeling his aren’t either. They can’t be, because you can see the fight in his eyes, trying to suppress the tiny whimpers falling from his lips as you reached down to circle your clit as you inch closer to the edge. He sees you smile at the sound, cheeks flushing red as he turns away. Even here, when you can see how much he enjoys it — feel it, with the way his hips buck up in your rhythm, barely holding it together— he can barely let a woman see him like this. You lean down slightly, so you can take his face in your hand and turn it towards you. To show him that you are enjoying it. That it’s ok to be vulnerable. You speed up even more, so close that you’re practically shaking now. “Let go for me, baby.” You remind him. He nods once, before turning his head just slightly in your loose grip. And then his mouth wraps around your fingers, keeping his eyes to yours just like you did as he sucks on them with a soft hum. That’s what makes you break, your high slamming into you like a landslide and he follows right after. The two of you are practically harmonizing with each other as you ride out the feeling, still moving so you can squeeze every last bit out of him. You collapse onto his chest, breathing heavy as you try to calm your spinning head. Holy shit. When the world stops spinning around you, you straighten up, dismounting from his lap with a wince that he matches.
“How was that?” You ask as you move.
“Holy shit.” He breathes, matching your thoughts. He doesn’t say another word, staring at the wall again. But you notice a difference in his eyes this time. Not shame. Surprise. And a good one at that. Like he didn’t know that it could feel like that. You take satisfaction in that look because it means you’ve done your job right. You wait for a beat, wondering if he will be more honest this time about anything else he wants. Still, he doesn’t make a move to reach for you or ask to clean up. You pretend it doesn’t bother you. Your time is almost up anyway.
“Can I-“ You indicate towards the ensuite and he just nods in response. Gently, you slide off the bed, holding onto to it as you descend. Your legs feel slightly like jelly as you stumble to the bathroom with your clothes in hand. You already know you’re going to need a while to get used to that. And somehow, you know you’re gonna get it. You quickly clean yourself up and slip on your clothes, adjusting the fabric so it sits right.
Usually, you wouldn’t mind too much about your appearance, but this hotel is nice. And as shitty as it is, walking out of this bedroom, you may very well find your next client in the lobby as you’re leaving so you unfortunately have to look your best. Men are creatures of contradiction like that — they will fuck anything that moves, but you still have to be the epitome of beauty when they pretend to have standards. You run your hands through your hair to detangle as best as possible, examining yourself in the mirror. Almost put back together, just missing one piece.
You spin back into the room, walking to your purse with one clear mission. But as you dig through it, your one prized possession, which always sits right at the top of the pile of clutter, isn’t there. You had it yesterday, you had it before you came here, the only time you could have lost it is… You turn to Gator, boxers now pulled on, watching you with his head propped against his forearm and a totally satisfied smile on his face. You should’ve guessed. Without a word, you walk over to the pile of his clothes bundled at the foot of the bed and begin rifling through the pockets. You start with his cargos, which already have four pockets too many. God, you hope you don’t have to go through the tactical vest too.
“The fuck are you doin’?” He jumps up, all the sweetness from minutes ago dissipating.
“Did you take my lipstick?” He wouldn’t be the first to want a little trophy of their time with you while also never wanting anyone to know of your interaction. Creatures of contradiction. “Know you said your stepmom uses it, but ‘m not a charity case and that is expensive.” You don’t find anything in the pants so you drop them and reach for his vest.
He snatches it out of your hands before you can search through it. “I was lyin’ about my stepmom using something like that are you crazy?” He leans down to scoop up his clothes, turning before you can reach for them again.
“Oh.” You straighten up. “Good. I was lying about having a stepdad. And to think I felt bad for fooling your gullible ass.” He shakes his head, but you see the way his lips turn up slightly as he steps back into his pants.
He doesn’t miss a beat before shooting back though. “Don’t worry, I knew you didn’t have a dad ‘f you ended up here.”
“I’ll have you know my mom and dad love each other and me very much. There isn’t some sob story that made me choose this career.”
“Sure, yeah.” He snorts, adjusting his shirt before reaching up to push back his messed up hair and straightening up his posture. You watch the change in real time. The persona locking back into place. You really aren’t sure who he’s doing all this for. “You don’t end up doin’ this unless you got something real messed up in your life.”
You roll your eyes. Of course he thinks that’s some original own that will make the imaginary crowd he’s always performing laugh. “You know from what I heard, you’re the one with the daddy issues, doll.”
And just like that, all the playful energy in the room is sucked out. Gator drops his hand from his head, all the stubborn hairs flying back into his face. His jaw hardens, eyes flickering with hurt for just a moment before lighting into full on anger. “What? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?” You mock, a stubborn hand placed on your hip for emphasis.
“Fuckin’ whatever.” He slinks to the front door, and you do feel something thick in your throat at the way his shoulders have dropped. You are here to take that weight off them. Not add more.
“Gator.” You exit the room right behind him. You can’t quite look at him so you quickly focus on your nails, which definitely need a fresh coat of polish. “Peter’s lonely. He shouldn’t be hard to turn if you just…bribe him with some recognition or somethin’.” His eyebrows furrow as you look back up. “How do you know that?” You stare at him for a long moment, and he immediately gets it. Peter called you up the other day, and has seen you almost every day since. He is good at sex like his face promised but he’s also more desperate for the connection, taking you out to dinners, and talking for a long time before he even gets you into bed. You’re surprised, truly, that he would dare to bring you out in public but you’re not complaining. “You psychoanalyze all o’ us like that?” Gator can’t stop himself from biting his lip, the real question all too obvious. What do you think of me?
You know he won’t like the answer so you fake a gasp, one hand lingering on his chest as you move in front of him. “Big word for a policeman.” He snorts through his nose, this time amused by your joke and you can’t help but smile. “Look, he’s only just gotta town so, maybe, become his friend, get him to open up.” You don’t notice that Gator has completely frozen as you lean in and press a small peck to his cheek before vanishing down the hallway.
His gaze stays fixed on you as you walk, shoulders back like nothing in the world could ever shake you as you type something out on your phone. He believes it. You’ve let go of every shitty thing this town expects. And he wants to be able to walk like that too.
In the blink of an eye, you’re gone. It still shocks Gator how quickly you can vanish like that. But the bigger shock is your words. He’s sworn that he knows this county inside out, down to who comes here and when. So how did this guy slip in without anyone noticing? Shit. Marcus is a lot more powerful than Gator had realized if he can pull one over Roy, and taking him down for good was going to be a real challenge. If he wants to prove himself to his father and get the FBI out of here, he’s going to need all the help he can get.
He pulls out his phone, opening his messages with you.
Gator 10:07pm - Meet me tomorrow.
He wants to say the case is the only reason he’s asking.
The lipstick tube sitting in his tactical vest would suggest otherwise.
⊹ ࣪ ˖𓂇⊹ ࣪ ˖
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Hii! I love your writing so much!!
i was thinking about a joe x reader fic, while joe is on tour reader sometimes helps him out with his outfits. And one time before he got on stage she gave him a cowboy hat and whispered to his ear “save a horse ride a cowboy” and that got him so flustered, he couldn’t quite focus on the show. After the show ended, he took a uber with reader to the hotel, and they do it🫠 and because she teased him before the show he teases her 10 times more
"Save a ride, cowboy"
⋆⭒˚.⋆ Joe Keery x reader ⋆⭒˚.⋆
english is not my language please be kind and sorry if i wrote wrong :) requests are open if you want!
Summary: You whisper something to Joe right before he goes on stage, leaving him flustered and painfully hard.
Warnings: explicit 18+ Smut, oral (f receiving) overstimulation, ridin, dirty talk, fluff, aftercare
The backstage hallway thrummed with controlled chaos. Roadies hurried past with cables and water bottles, the low rumble of thirty thousand fans vibrating through the concrete floor like a second heartbeat. Inside Joe’s private dressing room, the noise faded to a distant roar. It was just the two of you.
You stood close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, fingers slowly adjusting the collar of his half-unbuttoned black shirt. The fabric clung to his toned chest, sleeves rolled up to expose those strong forearms you loved feeling wrapped around you. His jeans were sinfully tight, boots polished, and his hair was perfectly messy.
“You look insane tonight,” you murmured, letting your hands drift lower. “Like every dirty fantasy I’ve ever had decided to walk around in real life.”
Joe’s hands settled on your hips, thumbs stroking gentle circles that quickly turned possessive. He pulled you flush against him, forehead resting against yours, eyes half-lidded and already darkening.
“Yeah?” His voice was low, intimate, just for you. “You’ve been staring at me like you want to ruin me before I even step foot on that stage.”
A playful smile curved your lips, you reached behind him for the cream-colored cowboy hat you’d stashed earlier and placed it on his head with deliberate care, tilting it low over one eye. The effect was devastating, rockstar edge mixed with filthy cowboy charm. Your thighs clenched involuntarily.
You rose onto your toes, lips brushing the shell of his ear. Your breath was hot and slow as you whispered the words you’d been dying to say all evening: “Save a horse… ride a cowboy.”
Joe’s reaction was immediate and visceral, his grip on your hips tightened hard enough to bruise. A full-body shiver ripped through him, and you felt his cock twitch sharply against your thigh. For a long second he just breathed against your neck, fighting for control.
“Fuck, baby…” he rasped, voice already wrecked and rough. “You really just said that? Two minutes before I have to go sing in front of thirty thousand people?”
He pulled back just enough to look at you. His pupils were blown wide, jaw clenched tight. The tension between you crackled.
“You’re evil,” he groaned, but his eyes were full of heat and love. “I love you so goddamn much… and right now I want to bend you over that couch and fuck you until the only word you remember is my name.”
You flicked the brim of the hat with a wicked grin. The stage manager banged on the door. “One minute, Joe!”
Joe adjusted himself in his jeans with a pained hiss, then cupped your face with both hands. He kissed you deep, slow, and filthy, tongue sliding against yours like a vow. When he pulled away, his voice was dark with promise. “You’re mine tonight. Every inch of you and I’m going to tease you until you’re shaking and begging.”
He walked out onto the stage slightly stiff, the cowboy hat low on his head, cheeks flushed.
From the wings, you watched him perform with a satisfied smirk and soaked panties.
Joe was magnetic as always, voice rich and powerful, body moving with that effortless swagger, but the distraction was obvious and delicious. His fingers kept brushing the brim of the hat. His eyes searched for you between songs more than usual. During a slow, sensual ballad, he stumbled over a line, biting his lip hard as your whisper clearly replayed in his head. The crowd went feral at the rare, flushed, sexy slip in his performance.
You knew exactly what he was thinking about. He nearly groaned into the mic, the image of you sinking down onto him, clenching tight, eyes locked on his, made his jeans feel torturously tight. He covered the mistake with a cocky hip roll that sent the arena screaming, but inside he was burning.
By the end of the encore he was sweaty, wired, and aching. The second he ran off stage he grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers tightly, and pulled you toward the exit.
“I love you,” he said roughly, voice hoarse from singing. “And you’re going to regret that whisper… in the best possible way.”
The Uber ride back to the hotel was exquisite, agonizing foreplay. Tinted windows, city lights streaking past. Joe sat close, one arm draped lovingly around your shoulders while his other hand disappeared under your skirt. Two thick fingers buried themselves deep inside your soaked pussy, curling slowly against your g-spot as his thumb teased your swollen clit with feather-light strokes.
“Already dripping down my hand,” he murmured hotly against your ear. “You liked watching me struggle out there, didn’t you? Knowing I was rock hard thinking about you riding me the whole show.”
You whimpered, hips rolling desperately, every time your walls started fluttering and your breathing turned ragged, he slowed to a complete stop or pulled his fingers out, kissing your temple with soft affection.
“Not yet, my love. You don’t get to come until you’ve earned it on top of me.”
He kept you teetering on the edge the entire ride, whispering filthy promises and sweet “I love you’s” until you were shaking and nearly in tears by the time the car pulled up to the hotel.
The second the suite door locked, the tension exploded. Joe shoved you up against it with a low growl, kissing you like a man starved, deep, messy, desperate, and overflowing with love. His tongue tangled with yours as his hands roamed everywhere, squeezing your ass, sliding up your waist, cupping your breasts through your top. You could feel how hard he was, his cock straining against his jeans and pressing into your stomach.
“Been thinking about this since you whispered in my ear,” he breathed against your mouth. “Could barely focus on the songs. All I could picture was you on top of me later… but first, I need to taste you.”
He dropped to his knees right there in the entryway, eyes dark and hungry as he looked up at you from under the brim of the cowboy hat. Without wasting another second, he yanked your skirt up roughly and hooked your ruined panties to the side. The cool air hit your soaked pussy for only a second before his mouth was on you.
Joe groaned loudly the moment his tongue dragged through your folds, savoring your taste like he’d been dying for it all night “Fuck, baby… you’re dripping,” he moaned against your pussy, the vibration making your legs tremble. “All this for me?”
He didn’t tease at first, he devoured. His tongue licked broad, hungry stripes from your entrance up to your swollen clit, then sucked the sensitive bundle of nerves into his mouth with filthy, wet sounds. Two thick fingers pushed inside you instantly, curling perfectly against your g-spot while he ate you like a man possessed.
You cried out, one hand flying to his hat, the other gripping his hair as your hips bucked against his face. Joe hummed in approval, doubling down, he fucked you with his fingers faster, sucking your clit harder, occasionally pulling back just to drag his tongue slowly through your folds and whisper praise against your slick skin.
“So sweet… so fucking wet for me,” he murmured, voice husky. “I love you like this, falling apart on my tongue. My perfect girl.”
He added a third finger, stretching you open while his mouth focused entirely on your clit, flicking, sucking, circling relentlessly. Your thighs started shaking. The pressure built fast and brutal.
“Joe… oh my god…”
“Come for me, baby,” he growled, refusing to slow down. “Let me taste it.”
You shattered hard, crying out his name as your orgasm crashed through you. Your thighs clamped tight around his head, but Joe didn’t stop, instead he kept licking and fingering you through every wave, drawing it out until you were whimpering and oversensitive.
But he still wasn’t done, he pulled his fingers out only to replace them with his tongue, fucking it deep inside you while his thumb rubbed tight circles on your clit. The cowboy hat was still on his head, slightly crooked now as he buried his face deeper between your thighs.
“You’re gonna give me another one,” he said, voice muffled and dripping with lust. “I want you soaked and shaking before I let you ride me.”
He sucked your clit back into his mouth and hummed, the vibrations sending sparks up your spine. His strong hands gripped your ass, holding you firmly against his face as he worked you relentlessly. You were so sensitive from the first orgasm that the second built even faster. Your moans turned into broken sobs of pleasure.
“Joe…fuck… it’s too much”
“You can take it, love,” he praised between licks, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Look at me while you come again.”
The eye contact destroyed you, you came even harder the second time, legs nearly giving out as pleasure ripped through your body. Joe groaned loudly, licking up every drop like he couldn’t get enough.
Only when you were trembling and gasping did he finally pull back. His lips and chin were shiny with your arousal. He looked up at you with pure lust and adoration, the cowboy hat still perched on his head, and licked his lips slowly.
“Best fucking thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured, voice rough. He stood up, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then scooped you into his arms, carrying you straight to the bedroom and laid you down on the bed. Still wearing the cowboy hat, he leaned back against the headboard and pulled you on top of him.
“Now, baby,” he said, voice dark and loving, eyes burning into yours. “Ride your cowboy.”
You straddled his hips, heart hammering, your hands trembled slightly with need as you wrapped your fingers around his thick, hard cock. He was heavy and throbbing, the tip already slick with precum. Joe hissed through his teeth when you stroked him slowly, teasingly “Don’t tease me too much,” he warned, but his smirk said he loved it. “I’ve been hard since you whispered in my ear.”
You positioned yourself over him and slowly sank down, the stretch was delicious, inch by inch, you took him until your ass met his thighs and he was buried completely inside you. A broken moan left both of you at the same time.
“Fuck…” Joe groaned, head tilting back, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “You feel so good. So fucking tight and wet around me.”
You stayed still for a few seconds, just feeling him pulse inside you, letting yourself adjust. Then you began to move.
At first, you rolled your hips in slow, deep circles, grinding down so his cock rubbed perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you. Joe’s hands slid up your thighs, gripping your hips tightly, but he let you stay in control.
“Look at me,” he whispered.
Your eyes locked, the intensity made your stomach flip, you braced your hands on his chest and started riding him properly, lifting up until only the tip remained inside, then sliding back down slowly, savoring every thick inch.
Joe’s jaw clenched, the cowboy hat casting a shadow over his eyes. “That’s it, baby… just like that. Ride me nice and deep.”
You gradually picked up the pace, bouncing on his cock with wet, filthy sounds filling the room. Your breasts bounced with every movement. Joe’s hands roamed, squeezing your ass, sliding up to cup your breasts, pinching your nipples until you whimpered.
“God, you’re so beautiful on top of me,” he breathed, voice rough with lust and affection. “My perfect girl. I’ve been thinking about this the entire show.”
You leaned forward, changing the angle, and rode him harder. The new position made him hit even deeper, Joe groaned loudly, one hand moving between your bodies to rub tight circles on your swollen clit.
“Joe…” you moaned, thighs starting to burn.
He kept the pressure steady on your clit, eyes never leaving your face. “Don’t stop, baby. Keep riding me, i want to feel you come all over my cock.”
The teasing began, every time you got close, every time your moans got higher and your walls started fluttering around him, Joe would grip your hips hard and hold you still, buried deep inside you but not letting you move.
“Not yet,” he murmured with a wicked smile, even as sweat beaded on his forehead. “You made me mess up lyrics tonight. Now you’re gonna suffer so pretty for me.”
You whined, trying to roll your hips, but his grip was iron, he pulled you down for a deep, messy kiss, tongues sliding together while he stayed buried to the hilt, throbbing inside you.
When he finally let you move again, you rode him desperately, fast, hard bounces that made the headboard slam against the wall. Your moans mixed with his low groans, the cowboy hat had slipped back slightly, his hair messy and damp with sweat.
Joe sat up suddenly, wrapping one arm around your back and pulling you chest to chest. The new position made everything more intimate. You kept riding him, grinding down deep while he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your lips.
“I love you,” he whispered hotly against your skin. “I love you so fucking much.”
He rubbed your clit faster, thrusting up to meet your bounces
“Come for me, baby,” he growled. “Let me feel you.”
You came hard, crying out his name as your walls clenched rhythmically around his cock, pleasure crashed through you in powerful waves. Joe groaned loudly, holding you tight as he followed right after, spilling deep inside you with long, hot pulses.
You kept rolling your hips slowly through both of your orgasms, milking every last drop, until you were both trembling and breathless.
After that you collapsed forward onto his chest, Joe wrapped his arms around you tightly, one hand gently stroking up and down your back. He was still inside you, softening slowly as you both caught your breath.
He tilted his head and kissed your forehead, then your temple, then your lips, soft, loving kisses that contrasted the raw intensity from minutes earlier.
“You okay, my love?” he whispered, voice hoarse and tender.
You nodded against his neck, boneless and glowing. “Perfect.”
Joe chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest, he finally reached up and took off the cowboy hat, tossing it onto the nightstand, his fingers threaded through your hair as he held you close.
“That whisper ruined me tonight… in the best way possible,” he murmured. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you riding me. And you did it so fucking well.”
You smiled sleepily, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “Worth the distraction on stage?”
“Every second.” He squeezed you tighter, legs tangling with yours. “I love you. Not just the crazy sex… I love coming back to this, you know, holding you, being with you.”
You both stayed like that for a long time, connected, sweaty, hearts slowing down together. Joe continued stroking your back in slow, soothing patterns, occasionally pressing soft kisses to wherever he could reach.
After a while, he gently pulled out of you and shifted you to lie beside him, he pulled the covers over both of you and tucked you against his chest, your head resting over his heart.
“Next show,” he said quietly, a smile in his voice, “I’m wearing the hat again. And maybe I’ll make you wear something for me during the encore… so the second I get off stage I can pull you somewhere private and feel you ride me all over again.”
You shivered happily and nuzzled closer “Promise?”
Joe tilted your chin up, eyes soft and full of warmth “Forever, baby.”
He kissed you slow and sweet, then held you tight as sleep started to pull you both under tangled together, completely satisfied, and deeply in love.
Taglist: @deviousfaye @watercolorskyy @l33nlikeacholo @ophirei
I'm so freaked out right now it's not even funny
hii i was wondering if i could request a Steve fic & the idea of it is that reader hates physical touch because in the past whenever a guy got touchy with her it always had to lead somewhere sexual, but then with Steve his physical touch is very innocently initimate and she ends up loving it bc of him
Thank you so much for this beautiful request! I really enjoyed writing it 💕
Different Good
Pairing: Steve Harrington x female reader
Warnings: hurt/comfort. angst. talking about past trauma. Steve as boyfriend. love languages. physical touch. no use of y/n.
____________
The kiss starts soft. It always does with Steve.
Nothing rushed or overwhelming. Just him leaning into you slowly on his bed while some movie plays forgotten in the background, his hand warm against your cheek as your mouths move together lazily.
You melt into it easily now. That still surprises you sometimes. Because kissing Steve never feels like performing. It just feels… nice and safe.
His thumb brushes softly along your jaw as he kisses you deeper, careful but warm, and you sigh quietly against him without meaning to.
Steve smiles a little into the kiss.
“I like that sound,” he murmurs teasingly against your mouth.
You huff a tiny laugh. “Shut up.”
“Fine, I'm busy anyway.” Then he kisses you again.
And for a while, it’s easy. Your fingers curl into the front of his shirt while his hand slides slowly from your cheek to your waist.
Still gentle. But then—
His hand slips under the hem of your shirt just slightly, fingertips brushing bare skin.
And your whole body locks up. It’s instant. Your stomach twists violently. Your chest tightens. Suddenly you’re somewhere else entirely—
Hands that never stopped when you froze. Voices sighing dramatically when you hesitated. “Come on, don’t make this weird.” “If you really liked me…” “Why are you acting like this?”
Your heartbeat spikes. And before you even realize it you pull back hard. Steve freezes immediately. His hand is gone from your skin before you even fully move away.
“Hey,” he says softly, eyes wide with concern. “Hey, what happened?”
You can’t breathe properly. “No, nothing—I’m okay.”
But your hands are shaking. Steve notices instantly. His expression shifts from confusion to worry in half a second.
“Princess? What's going on?” The gentleness in his voice almost makes it worse.
“I said I’m fine,” you whisper too quickly.
Steve studies you for a second. Then very carefully and very deliberately, he shifts backward, giving you more space on the bed.
“No pressure,” he says quietly. “Okay?”
Your throat tightens painfully. Because that alone is so different from what you’re used to.
No annoyance. No frustration. No wounded ego.
Just concern.
“What did I do?” he asks softly.
And God, the fact that he’s asking to understand instead of asking to defend himself nearly breaks your heart.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Then why do you look so scared?”
The question lands gently and not at all accusing. You stare down at your lap, hands twisting together.
“I’m not scared of you,” you say quickly.
Steve’s face softens immediately. “Okay.” No hesitation because he believes you.
You swallow hard. “It’s just…” Your voice wavers. “Sometimes when things start getting more intense, I kinda panic.”
Steve stays quiet. Listening. Waiting. And somehow that makes the words come easier.
“The guys I dated before…” You pause, stomach twisting. “They always expected things.”
Steve’s jaw tightens slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“And if I didn’t want to…” you laugh weakly, eyes stinging now, “it became this whole thing.”
The room feels painfully quiet. “I got really used to feeling like I couldn’t say no without ruining everything.”
Steve looks heartbroken. Actually heartbroken. “Hey,” he says softly.
You shake your head quickly. “I know it sounds stupid—”
“It doesn’t.” His voice is firm this time.
You finally look at him. And there’s no impatience there. No irritation or hurt ego. Just sadness.
“For them,” he says quietly. “It sounds stupid for them.”
Your chest aches. “I just…” you whisper, “sometimes I don’t know how to tell the difference between someone wanting to kiss me and someone expecting something from me.”
The second the words leave your mouth, you want to disappear. He looks at you like you just handed him something impossibly fragile.
And he handles it just as carefully. “You never have to be afraid of that with me.”
Your eyes burn immediately. Steve shifts slightly closer again—but slowly enough that you can track every movement.
“Can I hold your hand?”
The question nearly undoes you. You nod once and his fingers slide carefully through yours. Warm and so steady.
Nothing more.
“You know what I want when I kiss you?” he asks softly.
You shake your head.
“This.” His thumb brushes gently across your knuckles. “Just being close to you in every way you allow me to be.”
Emotion climbs thick into your throat. Steve exhales shakily, almost frustrated—not at you. At the idea of anyone making you feel otherwise.
“You never owe me anything,” he says quietly. “Not because we’re dating. Not because we’re kissing. Not because I’m a guy.”
His eyes stay locked on yours. “If you stop, we stop. Every time. No questions asked.”
A tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. Steve notices immediately and catches it with his thumb.
“Oh, princess.” He looks devastated. “C’mere?”
It’s another question. Another choice for you to make. And something inside you softens completely at that. You move toward him slowly.
Steve wraps his arms around you carefully the second you settle against his chest, holding you like he’s terrified of hurting you accidentally.
His hand rubs softly up and down your back. No rush or expectation. Just comfort.
“You know what?” he murmurs into your hair after a moment.
“What?”
“I think those guys were idiots.”
A watery laugh escapes you. Steve smiles faintly against your forehead.
“Seriously. You’re sitting here thinking you have to earn kindness when you’re already…” He shakes his head slightly. “You’re already more than enough.”
Your face presses into his chest a little harder. And Steve holds you tighter instantly.
“I really like kissing you,” he whispers after a moment.
You laugh softly. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He pauses dramatically. “But honestly? This is kinda my favorite part.”
Your chest aches warmly. “The hugging?”
“The you trusting me part.”
That one almost makes you cry again. Steve notices your silence and immediately tilts his head down.
“Hey... too much?”
You shake your head quickly, smiling despite yourself. “No,” you whisper. “Just… different.”
His expression softens completely. “Different good?”
You nod against him. “Different good.”
And Steve presses the softest kiss into your hair like he’s sealing a promise.
A promise of love without expecting anything.
___________
Thank you so much for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated 💙
STEVE HARRINGTON MASTERLIST
♡ promise? ♡
pairing: steve harrington x female reader
summary: you loved steve more than life itself, but how could you ever tell him how you felt when he could just say you weren't the one he wanted? so what happens when he finds you at a bar—drunk enough to ruin everything.
word count: 6.2k
warnings/tags: pining, yearning, fluff, alcohol consumption, reader gets drunk, cuteness, explicit language, angst, hurt/comfort, crying, petnames, hangover, partial (non-sexual) nudity, NO use of y/n
a/n: i love bella kay so so so much. i knew i had to make a fic based on her new song promise. tysm for all the love on my most recent song fic gold rush!! i hope you enjoy this one just as much! <3
Lately, it seemed Steve Harrington was responsible for all of your fears.
Not because he was dangerous or mean—no, Steve Harrington wasn't kind enough to give you a reason to fear him. In fact, Steve was the sweetest, most thoughtful man you've ever met—always remembering little details, walking you to your car or your door, sometimes, it seemed the only thing he had on his mind was your happiness.
But it wasn't that you were scared of him; you were scared of him knowing.
You were terrified he would find out—that one day he would catch on to how fast your heart beat around him, how shy you got when he was near. You would freeze like a deer in headlights every time he looked at you for too long, reading your thoughts like he was strategizing the best mode of attack.
You wouldn't survive Steve figuring out even half of the things you thought about when it came to him.
He could never know that he was the reason for the bags under your eyes—that the sound of his voice kept you up at night, endlessly singing a lullaby you were too in love with to fall asleep to. He couldn't know that he existed in every thought you had. There was no benefit in him knowing that you would picture him at your side everywhere you went.
This wasn't healthy anymore—your obsession. It didn't take a doctor's diagnosis for you to know your time was limited—that his eyes would be the death of you. You would die as you lived: flying too close to the sun that was Steve Harrington.
But Steve didn't know he was killing you.
Sometimes, you surmised that he did—that he consciously wielded his smile against you, a calculated attack.
But Steve wasn't cruel; he was just clueless.
Steve Harrington had ruined you and everything you were on accident. He had unintentionally destroyed your chance of ever finding happiness in anyone else. He had unknowingly shaped your heart into something new—something that fed you warmth instead of blood, life instead of survival.
So giving him the chance to break it?
That would be suicide.
You weren't sure how many drinks you had emptied tonight. Somewhere between the second glass and the club lights turning into Steve's eyes, you stopped counting. You weren't even that big of a drinker. You didn't care for the paint thinner like taste or the way it would stain your tongue, a permanent aftertaste you couldn't force out.
But the other option was having Steve Harrington plague your sober thoughts.
And you were never much of a masochist.
Every drink felt like a way to flush him out of your system, every shot a means to detox. But Steve Harrington was turning out to be the worst virus you had the horror of contracting.
Steve was in everything around you—every drop of rain that swarmed outside the club, every bitter flavor on your tongue, and every fear coursing through your veins.
You were scared that he would never want you back. You were scared of how he would look at you if he knew the truth.
But most importantly, you were scared to death that you would never stop loving him—that even his rejection wouldn't be enough to deter your foolish heart. Every star you saw, every eyelash that fell, and every dandelion you crossed knew all about Steve Harrington by now.
The reason for your misery as well as the beating of your pulse.
You heard your name being called, ripping you out of your daydream into a new problem: Steve Harrington in the distance.
You blinked at his approaching figure. God, he had the biggest smile on his face—like a child with a crooked grin, he beamed at you, chuckling to himself.
This was in your head, right? A figment of your imagination? You figured you must have knocked yourself out a while back—
"What are you doing here?" Steve's scent invaded your senses as he joined your side at the bar. Now, your dreams with him were more lifelike than you cared to admit, but even in your most vivid dreams you had never smelled him before—his signature cologne that he would take to his grave, his hairspray that lingered in his absence. This was real. Steve Harrington. Here. Live and in person for your viewing pleasure.
You guessed you should've realized by now that the universe had a sick sense of humor.
It wasn't until you saw the tilt of his head that you realized you never responded.
“Hi!" Your voice came out louder than you had anticipated startling Steve. Since when did you sound like that?
"I'm—I’m uh, drinking,” you answered somewhat quieter. Your off-putting and awkward laughter was still doing enough to embarrass you.
Steve nodded, glancing down at your drink. “I see that,” he teased. You blushed, your eyes shifting down at your drink, a sheepish curve on your lips.
Fuck, if only he knew how shy he made you. Steve Harrington had a way of making you feel like you were back to being eight years old, getting quiet around the cute boy in your class, knowing full well he never gave you a second glance.
“You been here a while?” Steve asked. You didn't need to see him to know he was tilting his head at you.
“Maybe,” you murmured, looking back at him. Big mistake. What were you saying again?
“I lost track of time a—a while back.”
“Yeah?” Steve glanced down at the amount of glasses you had collected. “Drowning your sorrows?” He smirked at you. You saw right through it—the blurry state of your mind wasn't enough to keep you from noticing the pinch in his eyebrows, the concern in his voice. That classic Steve Harrington attentiveness he hid under layers of charisma.
“Oh, this? No! No, I'm fine!” You sounded anything but, laughing at a nonexistent joke that may have just been yourself. “Just, um, you know... got thirsty,” you supplied shyly.
Something in your tone seemed to settle with Steve. “How about we get you home, yeah?”
Your eyebrows shot up. Jesus, were you that big of a mess? “Oh, no! No, I—I couldn't ask you to do that.”
“You're not asking,” Steve shook his head, touching your arm gently. The contact could've melted you into nothing if you weren't sitting down. “I'm offering. Come on, I'll give you a ride home.”
Your throat felt dry. You couldn't stop looking at his lips, his hair and the way it fell in his stupid, mesmerizing eyes.
“O—Okay." You tried to get up from your seat, quickly stumbling over your feet as you stood. Since when did those get there?
“Hey, there,” Steve steadied you, his hand on your waist. “Careful now. Don't want you hurting yourself.”
Everything in your head was static with him so close to you. “Think you can walk?” You peered down towards your feet, stepping one foot forward, only to trip on the next step.
“Okay!” Steve immediately caught you. You whined out of embarrassment. Christ, you were pathetic. “It's okay, sweetheart, I got you.” Steve promised, supporting you at his side, his arm draped around your shoulders.
Sweetheart.
You wondered if that could count as attempted murder in a court of law.
Somewhere along the way to your place, everything had gotten a lot more amusing. The silly vocals on the radio, the people walking across the street, and you could swear there were suddenly faces on the backs of the cars.
“Steve! I'm serious, look! That one's smiling!” You enthusiastically pointed in front of you, way too upbeat for this late at night.
Steve nodded along. “I know, sweetheart. You told me two minutes ago.”
“No, that was the mean car!"
"The one that was going to follow us and kill you when you least expect it?" Steve teased.
"It had teeth, Steve!"
Steve laughed at your vivacity. Despite your love for him feeling immeasurable, an argument could be made that you loved making him laugh even more.
You rolled your eyes. "Fine! Laugh all you want, but I'm onto something here."
Steve shook his head, unable to erase the smile you brought out in him. "I'm sure you are, sweetheart, The car's long gone, though, yeah?" Steve smiled, glancing over at you. "No one's killing you tonight. Not on my watch."
You watched the corners of Steve's mouth lift, the subtle change in his features making your heart feel tighter, your thoughts looser—
“You'd be a cute car,” you murmured.
Steve's eyebrow raised. If you weren't so out of it, you might've caught the way the car briefly shifted off-center, his grip on the wheel faltering.
“Would I, now?” Steve questioned, his voice somewhat strained by a stutter you didn't pick up.
“Yeah…” you sighed. You should really stop talking— “You have the most pretty smile.”
Damn it.
Steve cleared his throat. The dark of the night covered up the tips of his ears turning pink. “Th—Thank you, sweetheart,” he stammered. “You—You have a pretty smile, too.”
You felt warmth quickly travel from your neck to your cheeks, the corners of your mouth curving into a shy and nervous smile as your hands fiddled with each other. “Really?”
Steve smiled again. “The prettiest," he glanced over at you, giving you a wink.
If you didn't wake up in the morning, you were sure Steve Harrington would be the prime suspect.
Right under the scary car.
“Okay, there we go. One more step.” Steve carefully guided you into the apartment, each of your steps getting looser and looser. “Just like that, you're almost there.”
With one wrong step, you collapsed to the ground before Steve could stop you. You burst out into a fit of laughter. Steve loomed over you, exasperated. “Having fun down there?”
Steve's question went one ear and out the other. You were full on cackling on the ground, tears springing in your eyes, hunching over, stomach hurting—the kind of laugh that felt like freedom. “I'm on the ground,” you wheezed, running out of breath.
You heard Steve crack up from above. "So I noticed." God, the sound of his laugh made you feel so giddy inside, as if you were the one thing that made him happy. You wanted to be the only thing he required to be happy. You prayed every night to be needed by him—to be craved for once in your life. You wanted to be the one thing Steve Harrington needed to feel alive.
You rolled about to see him smirking over you. Looking up at him like this,—the ceiling light framing his head—you could've very well mistaken him for an angel descended from the heavens, lowered only for you to worship.
"Hi," you whispered.
Steve chuckled under his breath, "Hi, sweetheart."
The moment lingered between you the way memory foam sinks: a subtle, calming descent, luring you deeper and deeper—
"Come on," Steve sighed, extending his hand out for you to take, "Let's get you off the ground."
“No,” you whined, turning away from his hand like a petulant child. "It's cozy down here.”
“Yeah, and dirty,” Steve insisted, reaching for your hand anyway. “And I know you well enough to know you're gonna be pissed in the morning when I tell you you were rolling on the ground.”
You couldn't argue with his logic, but that didn't stop you from pouting as he pulled you up.
Steve shook his head. “Aht, don't give me that look,” he warned. His actions contradicted his father-like tone as he cupped your head in his hands with a featherlight gentleness—one you had never received from yours.
Steve turned your head side to side. “I don't see anything…” he mumbled to himself. You let him bow your head as he checked your roots. “All good, pretty girl." Steve tilted you back up to face him.
The rhythm of your heart faltered. Steve's mouth was curved in a soft smile, his lips soft and kind. You peeked at his eyes only to find them directed towards your mouth.
Time stilled in the space between you. The world continued as normal—cars honked, children slept, insects buzzed in the night—but the air the two of you shared froze, sacred between your bodies. Only when you redirected your gaze to his lips did the space blaze again.
Steve cleared his throat, taking a step back from you, as if the heat your heart emmited burned him backward. “Off to bed, yeah?” Steve sighed, wearing a tighter smile than before.
“O—Okay.” Your euphoric nature had softened. Steve nodded, supporting you with his arm around you again. You whined as Steve attempted to guide you again. “No more steps, Steve. Please…”
Steve huffed. “What, you want me to carry you on my back?” The mischievous gleam in your eyes—that spawned in record time—told him he had made a mistake.
“Yes!” Your excitement came back full force. “Please?”
You stepped closer to him before quickly fumbling on your feet again. Your misstep seemed to convince Steve that carrying you would be simpler than watching you continue to toddle around for another fifteen minutes.
“Okay,” Steve relented. He couldn't shield his smile as you jumped upon his back, squealing with excitement. He settled you up higher, locking his arms around your knees securely. “Hang on tight.”
You let your chin rest on his shoulder as he carried you to your bedroom. Wrapped around his body, you felt safer than ever, encompassed in an illusion where Steve was yours—his body the solace you'd been chasing since you were little, the kind that—
“—Off you go,” Steve huffed as he rolled you onto your mattress, making you squeal again.
You gasped upon feeling your bed under your skin again—as if the covers had secretly turned into clouds in your departure.
“Oh my God!” You snuggled further in the softness of your pillows, your eyes shutting in bliss. “I'm never leaving you again.”
“Not so fast,” Steve called from afar. Your eyes peeked open to see him returning from your closet. “You gotta change, sweet girl.”
It was almost annoying that Steve remembered how much you detested wearing outside clothes on your bed. That fact didn't stop you from pouting with a brief whimper, unable to stand the idea of leaving your newfound paradise—or at least, the only one you could keep.
“I know, I know,” Steve cooed. “Just this one last thing, and then I'll let you stay in bed forever, alright?”
It wasn't long before you caved, outstretching your arms to him. Even intoxicated, you were unable to say no to Steve.
“Wrap your arms around my neck, sweetheart,” Steve muttered before he lifted your body in his arms, carrying you bridal style.
“Where we going?” Your voice came out small as you rested in his arms.
“Bathroom,” he murmured softly to you. You hummed in acknowledgement.
The next thing you knew, Steve was setting you down on the toilet seat. He handled you with such care that it felt like you were fragile—like you were his.
“I'll go get your clothes." He disappeared out the door before you could protest.
His absence felt heavier than you expected. Like there was a weight he was carrying just for you, now abandoned on your bathroom floor.
Your eyes shut, head tilting back. This was ridiculous. Steve had been gone for only a minute, but already you felt like dying if you didn't see him again. Like an addict going through withdrawals.
“Steve?”
“Yeah?” Steve returned shortly, a change of clothes gathered in his arms. “What's wrong?” The tips of your ears turned pink from the sound of his voice, the devotion in it
“I missed you...” you confessed.
You were being too honest. You needed to leave it alone. Steve and you were friends. You wouldn't take that back for the world—not even the one you wanted. Not even the one you were looking at right now.
“Well, I'm back,” Steve grinned. “You think you can change on your own?”
His smile burdened the weight again, lightening the atmosphere. You nodded, standing up with Steve's help.
“Alright, I'll be just outside, okay? Holler if you need me.” He winked at you, leaving the bathroom to give you your privacy.
As you stepped out of your clothes, you couldn't stop yourself from picturing him next to you, his voice, his smile. Why did he have to be so beautiful? Didn't he know how unfair it was? To be plagued by his eyes every minute of your life? You didn't know if you would ever move on from the fantasy that was Steve Har—
Your shirt was stuck
You had tangled your arms on the way out, rendering them uselessly flailing about. You attempted to escape to no avail, making yourself laugh at the absurdity of it all.
“Steve!” You called, giggling.
“What's wrong?” He called from the other side of the door, immediately on alert. “Are you okay?”
“I'm stuck,” you answered, once again trying with no luck.
Steve's voice paused. “Stuck?”
“My shirt!” You started to laugh fuller. Steve opened the door. You felt his hand struggle to find your shoulder. Once he got a grip on your shirt, he carefully helped you get it off, leaving you to find his eyes shut tight.
“Got it?” You vaguely heard the swallow in his throat.
“Yep. Thank you, Steve.”
Steve delivered you a brief nod before tentatively spinning around, trying to find his way back to the door without opening his eyes.
Once you finally got done getting ready for the night, you had enough strength to open the bathroom door without falling over. Steve was leaned back against the wall of the hallway, his eyes focused on your old shirt in his hands—the lacy fabric in his fingers.
He quickly caught your eyes. You would have been more embarrassed if you were sober—your makeup wiped off, hair a mess, and in your old, stained pajamas—but something about the look in Steve's eyes made you feel secure, as if he would never look at you as anything other than beautiful.
“Hi,” you rocked on the soles of your feet, hands swinging about.
“Hi,” Steve replied breathlessly. “You look beautiful.” You giggled at his compliment, taking a few wobbly steps towards him until you were leaning against his chest. He carefully cradled you in his arms once again, bringing you to bed like a husband would a wife.
In this moment, all you could think about was how much you loved him—how it felt like it could burst out of your chest, spill from your heart—you were in so deep, you could've been labeled as drowning.
“I have something to tell you,” you whispered, grinning up at him.
Steve mirrored your expression, glancing down at you. “Yeah, what's that?”
You shook your head. “Can't tell ya. It's a secret,” you answered.
Steve's head tilted to one side. “A secret? Since when do you hide things from me?”
You giggled again, confusing Steve further. “You're not supposed to know!”
“Why?” Steve wondered.
“It's important,” you clarified, dizzy with delight.
“Don't you think I should know, if it's so important then?” Steve asked as he set you down on your bed.
You bit your lip in thought as Steve tucked you in for bed. “Maybe…” you mumbled to yourself. Steve sat down next to you as you pondered. “Okay! But I'll only tell you if you promise me I can take it back.”
“Wh—What do you mean take it back?”
“You know,” you waved your hand, “in case you don't like it.” You just barely caught the pinch between Steve's brows return.
You searched his face. “I just don't want you to get upset with me,” you slurred, trying to explain to Steve that you couldn't dare to risk losing him.
He sighed before tucking back a lock of your hair that had fallen out of place. “I could never be upset with you,” he answered softly. “Okay, I promise whatever you say, you can take it back. No being upset.” Steve vowed, hand over his heart.
Your smile warmed at the gesture. So simple, and yet so Steve. It made your heart flutter.
“Go ahead, then.” Steve encouraged you, obviously eager to hear.
“I like you,” you admitted, chuckling through the sentence.
Steve nodded along, chuckling too. “I like you too, sweetheart.”
“No,” you shook your head, drawing closer. “I like you, Steve.”
Steve froze, his anticipation from before you could catch it.
“I—I like you so much it's ridiculous,” you confessed, sighing as you fell back against your sheets. “I think about you all the time... What you're doing, what you're thinking, if you're interested in me too.” Everything was pouring out of you now, a dam that was flooding too quick to patch. “But I'm so scared you'll hate me if I tell you. That I'll lose you…” You looked back at Steve, his mouth open but still. “I would rather die without telling you than live a life without you in it, Steve.”
Steve didn't move for a solid thirty seconds. The only sign he was even still alive was the delayed blinking of his eyelids, his thoughts practically audible. The silence dragged like quicksand, sinking you deeper and deeper until it becomes easier to accept your fate rather than claw out of the bed you made.
"Steve—?"
"You should go to sleep." He moved quick, rising from the bed like it was a trap.
"Wait, no. Steve—"
"I'll sleep on the couch," he interrupted. "I'll see you in the morning, yeah? Once you sleep this off?"
Your tongue felt heavy. You wanted to tell him no. That no amount of sleep would keep you from waking up to the thought of his eyes. That he didn't need to leave and abandon you like a problem. It didn't matter if he was in the other room. Mere feet away, his departure would still cut into your heart.
You wanted to scream. To cry. To die in a ditch. But there was no other option than the one he chose for you.
"Okay."
The defeated rejection in your voice gave you deja vu, so familiar you could trace it back to every nightmare that ended this way—with your cards on the table and Steve leaving the game.
"Goodnight, Steve." You felt broken, shattered like the illusion your drunken state had fooled you into trusting. There was nothing in this world that felt as sacred as your relationship with Steve, and you had ruined it within a minute. A new record.
Steve paused in the doorway, turning off your lights with hesitant caution. "Goodnight, sweeth—" He cut himself off. "—dreams," he corrected. "Sweet dreams."
Sweetheart. That beautiful name he handed to you one day, knocking your world off balance, the one thing your worst nightmares couldn't take away from you, and he denied you from hearing it again.
All because you finally told him.
For the first time since you had met Steve, in the dark of your room, seconds away from sleep, Steve's voice wasn't singing you to sleep; the shut of your door scoring your thoughts instead.
In the empty space he had just occupied, you whispered to no one.
"I take it back."
The pounding in your head when you woke up wasn't enough to drown out the ache in your heart.
You wished you had forgotten, but within seconds, everything played back like a horror movie you couldn't get out of your head. You remembered everything—the stumbling of your feet, the symphony of Steve's laughter, the eyes that had fell on your lips—
The way Steve froze, the way he stepped back like you had hurt him, the look of betrayal you saw in his face.
You had ruined everything.
And you couldn't take it back.
The walk from your bedroom to the living room was more treacherous than the one you took last night. Each fall of your feet marching to the rhythm of your broken heart. You couldn't blame the knot in your stomach on Steve. This time, it was all on you.
You hesitantly stepped forward until you could see him. Steve was wide awake, seated on the couch. You could see the stiffness in his posture, the tightness in his shoulders. He looked anything but comfortable, silently waiting for something you knew you couldn't give him.
When he finally caught sight of you, everything between the two of you stopped again. But this time the space wasn't watching the tension unfold—it was glaring.
"You're awake." Steve's voice gave nothing away. You recognized the softness in it—the gentle tone you associated with Steve—but you recognized it was a disguise.
You nodded, standing as still as a statue.
"Sleep well?"
You didn't know whether or not to lie. You had already destroyed the way he thought of you by being honest last night.
"No," you admitted, quietly enough it could be mistaken for a breath.
Steve only nodded back, looking down at his hands. "Yeah, me neither."
Everything was burning like a forest fire. Your heart, your body, your eyes—it was all torching before you could say you didn't mean to light the match.
"I'm sorry," you whispered.
You watched as Steve sighed before facing you again. "Come here," he patted the cushion beside him.
You tentatively came to his side, unable to resist his call. Steve watched you as you moved closer, his eyes never once leaving you as you joined him on the couch. But you couldn't return his gaze—your eyes solely focused on the floor.
“Take these,” Steve handed you the pills that he had left on the table, along with a glass of water. “They'll help with the hangover.” Steve muttered.
As you drank, you wished that he was crueler— that he hadn't been kind enough to make you fall in love with him. That he hadn't let you. It wasn't fair—to make someone fall in love with you if it does nothing more than hurt.
"Will you look at me?" Steve's voice broke you out of your prayer.
You cursed inside your head. If only you were strong enough to resist the flute that continuously charmed you into dancing.
You turned to face him, bruised and defeated. Steve's face crumbled into something sadder, something broken. He sighed under his breath, turning away from you now.
"Are you mad at me?" You finally asked, breaking your vow of silence. Steve immediately denied it, shaking his head.
"No, never. I told you that last night." You bowed your head, falling silent again. This was worse than anger; this was brutal disappointment—something you never wanted to see from Steve.
"Are you gonna take it back?"
Your head shot up at his question. Steve was looking at you now.
"What?"
"Are you gonna take it back?" Steve repeated. "Last night, you made me promise you could take it back."
The memory was as fresh as a wound and yet his reminder made the pain cut deeper.
"Steve—"
“Why?” he begged. “Why would you make me promise that?”
“Because I didn't want this to happen—”
"What, me to ask you if you meant it?" Steve interrupted again.
You scofffed. As if you could've not meant it with your entire being. "Obviously, I meant it, Steve."
"Then why would you want to take it back?"
You shut your eyes, hanging your head. You couldn't tell if your head hurt more from the hangover or the confrontation. This was the last thing you ever wanted. "Well, you're clearly not taking the news well," you pointed out.
Steve went silent. You opened your eyes again to see him looking at you with something that resembled betrayal too much for your comfort. No hangover could numb the shame that pooled behind your eyes.
"I'm leaving, then." Steve shot up from the couch—as if he had just heard his exit line.
"Wait, Steve. No," you took hold of his forearm before he could abandon you again. You didn't want to be a part of this play. You were tired of playing the fool—the pathetic side character who watched him from afar. "Please, don't leave."
The strain in your voice that only came from the shame of crying caught Steve's attention. You watched as he fought a silent battle with himself, warring between you and himself.
"I'm sorry, okay? Please, Steve—" Tears broke free from your eyes like prisoners escaping their cells. "I can't lose you. Please."
The blinding blur in your eyes combined with the steel poker in your head kept you from noticing Steve's arms forming around you, holding you close to his chest as you sobbed out broken apologies.
"I'm sorry. I'll take it back, I promise—"
Steve shushed you gently, kinder than anyone trying to break your heart should be. "It's okay, just breathe."
You couldn't stop crumbling in front of him. You had taken a wrecking ball to everything that made you feel alive. How else were you supposed to feel?
Steve ran his fingers through his hair, still attempting to soothe you. "Please, sweetheart. You're breaking my heart."
"I'm sorry—"
"Stop apologizing," he whispered desperately. "I don't want you to be sorry."
You tried to focus on Steve's heartbeat below your ear, a rhythm that was slowly getting stuck in your head.
"I just want to know why..." he confessed.
You pulled back to face him, wiping your face with the cuff of your sleeve. Steve took over for you, gently wiping away your tears. "Please?" He whispered.
The pleading in his eyes melted every wall you had so carefully built around your heart. You knew you couldn't lose him, but you also knew you couldn't lie to him.
"Is it that you're scared of me?"
His question fired at your heart. "No," you shook your head. "Not you."
Steve tilted his head. He wiped your cheek again, breaking your silence. "But you are scared?"
You exhaled before you reached out for Steve's wrist. If you were gonna do this, you were gonna feel his pulse under your skin—just to prove he was there.
"…I think about you all the time." You finally confessed. Hungover, teary-eyed, and a mess, but you didn't care. "And I want you... So much that it scares me, 'cause I know I won't be able to handle you telling me you don't want me back—"
Steve tilted your head to look at you, halting your train of thought. "What makes you think I would say that?"
You wished you could've answered him, but you were still, lips parted and clueless. "Be—Because we're supposed to be just friends."
"When have I ever looked at you like we're just friends?"
To say you were speechless would be insulting. You weren't yourself anymore. You had changed entirely in a matter of seconds.
Steve just stared at you, as if he expected you to answer any question after flipping your world upside down—some kind of alternate universe where you weren't you and Steve wasn't Steve.
"L—Last night?" You offered hesitantly, trying your best to come up with something, anything for him.
Steve smiled at you, laughing under his breath. "Sweetheart, you were drunk," he pointed out. "I can't make a move on you when you can barely stand up on your own."
You blinked, rendered completely still. Steve smirked at your silence.
"If you wanted me so badly, you could've just said so, you know." The smugness in his voice made your heart ache.
He was teasing you now. Asshole.
"Steve, it's not funny."
"I'm not trying to be funny." His smirk was gone, replaced by long, pleading eyes that asked you for the world. "I—I don't know how else I can tell you I want you."
"Then why were you trying to leave?" You finally asked.
Steve sighed. Scanning the planes of your face with a reverent smile—soft in its curve—he tucked your hair back, handling it like it was precious. Like you were precious.
"I couldn't handle you taking it back," he confessed, "I couldn't accept a confession that you were too scared to commit to."
You were sure the heartbreak Steve had faced because of Nancy Wheeler was resurfacing.
"I don't want you to be scared when it comes to wanting me," Steve whispered, drawing an intimate moment between the two of you. "...And maybe I just wanted to hear you say that you liked me when you weren't drunk off your ass."
Your subsequent laugh brightened Steve's demeanor like sunshine after a storm, casting a beautiful rainbow that lived in his smile.
Your cheeks felt tight as you grinned, ducking your head. "I like you, Steve."
Steve mirrored your expression, beaming like a dog wagging its tail. "Yeah? You like me?" You caught his smug King Steve persona coming back into play.
You rolled your eyes as he began to smirk. You shoved his shoulder. "Don't make me take it back."
Steve chuckled. "Wouldn't dream of it, baby."
You felt your heart soar in your chest, completely overshadowing your headache.
A squeal escaped you as Steve suddenly picked you up like he had last night, cradling you in his arms.
"Steve! Put me down!"
Steve shook his head, smiling as he walked. "Nope. You and I are going to spend the rest of the day in bed while you get over your hangover."
You tilted your head as he entered your room. "Oh, are we now?"
"Yep, we are" Steve declared, setting you down on your bed with a dizzying delicacy. He stood upright. "I'm gonna go find some clothes to change into."
You tilted your head, brows furrowing in confusion. "Why? Is there a dress code I didn't know about?" You teased, making Steve roll his eyes playfully.
"No," he shook his head at you, scrunching his nose, "I didn't want to get into your bed with outside clothes on."
Your heart warmed. He really was the most thoughtful man you could ever ask for. You caught his wrist before he could leave, eyes hooded as you looked up at him.
"You don't have to get changed to do that..." Steve's breath caught at the low tone of your voice, intention clear.
"Sweetheart, I—"
"Please?" You whispered, almost pouting. You may not have been able to call Steve yours before, but that didn't mean you didn't fantasize about him night and day—enough to know just how to get your way with him.
The tension in his shoulders melted away as he caved. "Fine, but just my shirt and pants, okay?" You beamed up at him, nodding eagerly.
Steve shrugged off his clothes, unable to contain his smile as you watched him excitedly. Facing you with that pretty smile you saw in everything, he joined you under the covers carefully. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you as close as two people could ever get.
You had been through a lot in your life. Heartbreak, love, loss—but nothing could have ever prepared you for the feeling of Steve Harrington's skin on yours. If your heart wasn't already racing at the speed of light, you might've died on the spot. The warmth he emitted blazed into you—a fire only he could ignite.
The moment felt like a dream. You could have been easily convinced you died of rejection last night and were transitioning into a painful death, being shown the life you lost. But the pain in your skull was enough to assure you of your consciousness. This was real, just like last night at the bar, the universe had finally acted in your favor, granting you the life you begged for where Steve Harrington was yours, to want, to need, to love.
You couldn't be happier next to him—staring at him like he hung the stars you wished upon for this very moment.
"I love you," you blurted out to Steve, catching the both of you off guard.
But Steve didn't freeze like last night. Not even a second passed before his face broke out into the most lovestruck smile—one you had never seen directed in your direction.
"I love you, too," Steve confessed, without an ounce of hesitation. He leaned closer, nudging your nose with his. "Always have, always will."
Your eyes widened before you found your eyebrows furrowing on instinct.
"Really—?"
Steve wasted no time bringing his lips to yours, capturing all of the insecurity that lived on your tongue. His kiss robbed you of your breath, as if he would rather you stop breathing than live in a world where you doubted his love for you.
You attempted to chase his lips as he pulled away to meet your eyes.
"I promise."
And for once in your life, with your lips returning to their rightful home, you believed someone wanted you to love them.
And you weren't going to take it back now.
masterlist
divider credits: @strangergraphics
