pick up the pieces (and put me back together again) - gator tillman | masterlist
when the sheriffâs department secretary, a new girl from the twin cities, piques the interest of none other than gator tillman, an unlikely friendship forms and turns into something more. two lone stars seek comfort in each other while trying to pick up the pieces of their own lives. oh, and Gator tries to PR manage a kidnapping plot to get his sister/step-mom/nadine back for his dad.
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Growing up, you were always warned to stay away from The Tillmans, especially with your families feuding. Your family had the good people of Lehigh in the palm of their hands, while Roy had the bad. Both of your fathers decided to keep you apart, hoping to not make a mess. As far as you and Gator were concerned, the other didn't exist, avoiding and ignoring the other whenever possible.
It wasn't an easy thing to do, considering how small the town was, but you made it work. The lines started blurring in 10th grade. Gator took any chance he had to push your buttons and piss you off, daring you to be the first one to snap and turn the feud into an all-out war. And when that didn't work, he also started flirting with you. Either way, you always left any interaction with Gator with a red face and a clenched fist.
It was graduation night that you both finally snapped. A drunk kiss as the party died down led to you and Gator christening the bedroom in your new apartment, and in the morning, you surprisingly found Gator still in bed. All of that led to 3 months of hooking up and a big fight that led to you officially labeling your relationship.
You were glad to move out to the edge of town when you did. Yes, you were young, and it definitely was a struggle, but you weren't going to leave Gator. No matter where your family was heading off to or how they felt about your relationship. Their only saving grace was that they helped you find an apartment and helped with rent.
It also gave you more privacy. You were away from most people who knew your families history and gossiped. Most of your neighbors were around your age, so you were all living your own lives. It felt like, for once, your relationship was safe from public commentary.
The second the two lines appeared, your heart stopped.
What were you going to do? How was Gator going to react? How was your family going to react? How long did you have to keep it a secret?
You look down at the test in your hands, taking in the possibility of you becoming a mother. You grab another test, "Just to be safe." You say, deciding to plan things out if both tests come back positive. When you say another two lines on the test, you knew it was time to start figuring things out.
Were you going to tell Gator? Could he handle the news? How would Roy react? How would your dad react?
As the questions popped into your mind, you had finally made a decision. You had to pull a Nadine and run like hell away from this town and from The Tillmans. You couldn't risk your baby being born into their chaos.
You hid the tests in your bathroom cabinets, knowing Gator wouldn't snoop through your things. You took the cash you had hidden in case you ever needed to run away and went to the car. Driving to the same person who helped Nadine escape.
"You sure you wanna do this?" John asks.
"Huh?" Your eyebrows knit in confusion at his words.
"You sure you wanna do this? Leave everything behind?" He asks.
You nod, "Yeah, I'm sure. It's what's best."
"Don't take the question personal, yeah? I asked our friend the same thing." He says, referring to Nadine.
"Most woman just get a little stir crazy and come to me for help, but when they see their order, they go back to their home, and I get rid of the order." He laughs, "If anyone has a reason to run away and disappear, it's you two." he admits.
"When will my order be ready?" You ask, the nerves making you more agitated, not your pregnancy hormones, you lie to yourself
"For everything you want?" He looks at the notepad that had your order, "Earliest I can give it to you is in four days - Thursday."
"How much?"
"$4,500. $2,000 is due now. The $2,500 when you pick up your order" he explains.
You nod and place the cash in front of him, like it's nothing. "Alright. I'll be back Thursday."
"See you Thursday." John says as you leave.
You take a deep breath as you get in your car, trying not to go back in there and cancel your order. A wave of nausea hits you, leaving you sitting in the parking lot longer than you wanted.
"Listen, I'm doing this for you." You start talking to the baby
"So you can try and make me nauseous all you want, but this is all for you, kiddo. I hate to admit it," you bit your bottom lip, "but your daddy ain't as good as I want him to be. And I'm not gonna let you get caught up in his mess."
Your heart broke as you said those words out loud. It was true, but this was the first time you had actually admitted out loud that Gator was still bad. Tears start forming in your eyes.
"Hopefully, you'll get it once you get older. I promise it'll all make sense." You say, starting the car and heading to your parents' house.
"Hi, sweetheart." Your mom greets you as you step out of the car. She got up from tending the front garden to give you a hug. "I've missed you."
"Hey, Momma. I've missed you too." You say, returning her hug.
"Let's go inside. I've got some sweet tea that should be ready by now, and lunch will be ready soon." Her words full of hope.
"Where's dad?" You ask, taking a seat at the table
"He's outside fixing one of the horse stable doors. It won't close all the way, and the horse has a bad habit of running away." She laughs
"'M assuming it's Lucky? I always knew my girl was a free-range horse." You admit, picturing your childhood horse, who seemed to only like you
"That or she's just chasing after you."
You tilt your head to the side in agreement, "Could be that too."
The slam of the back door gets your attention as your dad walks in.
"Was wondering when you were gonna visit. We've missed you around here." Your dad smiles, engulfing you in a hug after he had cleaned himself up
"I'm sorry about that. Things have been hectic lately." You hug him back, "I feel like as soon as I get my footing, something happens."
"Yeah, well, that's life wi-" The warning glare your mom had given your dad, cutting him off
"That's life, but remember, honey, we're always here to help you out." Your mom says
"That's actually what I wanted to talk to y'all about?"
"What happened? What'd he do?" Your dad asks
"Gator didn't do nothing, Dad." You let out a nervous sigh. "I'm moving to San Antonio, and I need y'all's help with packing all my things up and the rent, at least until I can find my footing."
"San Antonio?" Your mom asks
"Why the hell is he making you move to San Antonio?" Your dad questions
"No, not him. I - I'm leaving him and moving to San Antonio. It's the furthest place I could think of to get away."
Your dad nods, "Don't need to say anything more. Whatever you need, Mom and I will take care of it. Just let us know."
"Can you guys drive there with me? My car's too small to carry everything of mine, and I'll need help unpacking."
"Of course! It'll be a fun family road trip!" Your mom says excitedly
"And can make sure you're living somewhere safe." Your dad says
-------
"A two-bedroom? You've got that much stuff, you need two rooms?" Your dad asks after all the boxes were in your new apartment.
"Yeah, something like that." You laugh
"Something like that? You got something to tell us?" He asks
You bit down on your bottom lip anxiously
"I'm pregnant." You blurt out, "Yes, the baby's Gator's and no, he doesn't know."
"Oh, honey." Your mom rushes over to you and engulfs you in a hug
"You sure he doesn't know?" Your dad asks
"Yes, I'm sure. I haven't said anything to anyone but you and Momma."
He nods his head, the look on his face emotionless. "That's why you got the two-bedroom?"
"Yes, the second room is gonna be a nursery for the baby."
"I'm glad you moved away. I don't want you or my grandbaby dragged into the hell the Tillmans make."
"So this means you're ready to become a grandpa?" Your mom asks
"Yeah, I am." Your dad chuckles
"I'm gonna need all updates and pictures. We're coming for visits as much as possible, and I swear, in your 8th month of pregnancy, I'll be down here with you. There's no way I'm missing the birth of my first grandbaby." Your mom says excitedly
"I promise, I will, Momma." You smile. "Just promise me you'll help keep the baby a secret? It's only to keep them safe."
"I will. I promise," Your dad says as he hugs you, "I'm not letting any Tillmans get my grandbaby or you."
You wipe a few tears away at your parents' words. And for the first time in a long time, you think you just might be able to make it without Gator.
pick up the pieces (and put me back together again) - gator tillman | masterlist
when the sheriffâs department secretary, a new girl from the twin cities, piques the interest of none other than gator tillman, an unlikely friendship forms and turns into something more. two lone stars seek comfort in each other while trying to pick up the pieces of their own lives. oh, and Gator tries to PR manage a kidnapping plot to get his sister/step-mom/nadine back for his dad.
Summary: You need a boyfriend for Christmas. So, your best friend Steve Harrington agrees to fake it with you only to help get your parents off your back after a string of failed relationships.
The rules are simple: no sharing a bed, no kissing , and no catching feelings.
Until theyâre not.
CW: Smut. Lots of it lol. MDNI. Some mentions of family problems. Drinking.
read chapter one đ± read on ao3
chapter one - no big deal
chapter two - not yours
chapter three - just once
chapter four - snowed in
chapter five - between friends
chapter six - losing me
chapter seven - another chance
chapter eight - good thing
chapter nine (coming soon)
 ⻠see the family tree chart
â. đËàż please comment below if you want to be added to this story's taglist đđËâ
Summary: In a town ruled by quiet threats and louder men, you try to keep your head down and your cousinâs temper. But one reckless night puts you in Gator Tillmanâs line of sight, and he doesnât look away. What starts as suspicion turns into protection. And somewhere between shattered glass, small-town politics, and stolen moments in the kitchen, you both choose something neither of you were raised to believe in: love.
Note: Hadnât really intended for this to become a whole thing but your girl got carried away. Iâm a Gator simp, idc. Also, this is my first Gator fic, itâs also my first tumblr fic upload so be nice.
Part One - The Stop
Part Two - Eyes on You
Part Three - In The Open
Part Four - Damage
Part Five - Fallout
Part Six - Aftermath
--Complete--
I actually love you if you read all of this. Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou!
Summary: Gator Tillman is used to begging his father for scraps of attention. Which is why you hate him so much. He doesn't exist outside of being Roy's son. One mistake in the evidence locker leads to weeks of becoming involved in Roy Tillman's shady election, and discovering things about the Tillman family you never wanted to know.
A Fargo S5 fic, enemies with benefits- friends with benefits- lovers, very slowburn. Female reader, reader is the secretary at the station. Will contain explicit sexual content, Roy being a misogynistic prick, brief mentions of physical abuse and canon typical violence. Complete.
Summary: You need a boyfriend for Christmas. So, your best friend Steve Harrington agrees to fake it with you only to help get your parents off your back after a string of failed relationships.
The rules are simple: no sharing a bed, no kissing , and no catching feelings.
Until theyâre not.
CW: Smut. Lots of it lol. MDNI. Some mentions of family problems. Drinking.
read chapter one đ± read on ao3
chapter one - no big deal
chapter two - not yours
chapter three - just once
chapter four - snowed in
chapter five - between friends
chapter six - losing me
chapter seven - another chance
chapter eight - good thing
chapter nine (coming soon)
 ⻠see the family tree chart
â. đËàż please comment below if you want to be added to this story's taglist đđËâ
Summary: Gator Tillman is used to begging his father for scraps of attention. Which is why you hate him so much. He doesn't exist outside of being Roy's son. One mistake in the evidence locker leads to weeks of becoming involved in Roy Tillman's shady election, and discovering things about the Tillman family you never wanted to know.
A Fargo S5 fic, enemies with benefits- friends with benefits- lovers, very slowburn. Female reader, reader is the secretary at the station. Will contain explicit sexual content, Roy being a misogynistic prick, brief mentions of physical abuse and canon typical violence. Complete.
summary: tillmans. all they do is ruin lives. five years ago, roy tillman ruined yours and left you to pick up the broken pieces of your family. one night, your anger gets the best of you and you venture out to get revenge. only problem is, gator tillman catches you. you never expected to see underneath the steel facade of the sheriffâs first born son. but you do. you never expected that he would recognize your rage as years of grief. but he does. you save each other in the only way you know how. sweat soaked sheets, apologies whispered against skin, gripping to each other till it bruises. salvation isn't real and yet, it's starting to feel like it could be. but you could never love a tillman. all they do is ruin lives.
tags: 18+ mdni, enemies with benefits to lovers, ANGST, hurt/comfort, kinda toxic relationship dynamics (because itâs gator duh), slowburn (emotionally), swearing non-stop, mentions of childhood trauma and graphic depictions of abuse, grief, heavy plot driven smut, biblical allusions and blasphemy?, takes place in a universe where the main events of fargo s5 don't happen
summary: tillmans. all they do is ruin lives. five years ago, roy tillman ruined yours and left you to pick up the broken pieces of your family. one night, your anger gets the best of you and you venture out to get revenge. only problem is, gator tillman catches you. you never expected to see underneath the steel facade of the sheriffâs first born son. but you do. you never expected that he would recognize your rage as years of grief. but he does. you save each other in the only way you know how. sweat soaked sheets, apologies whispered against skin, gripping to each other till it bruises. salvation isn't real and yet, it's starting to feel like it could be. but you could never love a tillman. all they do is ruin lives.
tags: 18+ mdni, enemies with benefits to lovers, ANGST, hurt/comfort, kinda toxic relationship dynamics (because itâs gator duh), slowburn (emotionally), swearing non-stop, mentions of childhood trauma and graphic depictions of abuse, grief, heavy plot driven smut, biblical allusions and blasphemy?, takes place in a universe where the main events of fargo s5 don't happen
Summary: In a town ruled by quiet threats and louder men, you try to keep your head down and your cousinâs temper. But one reckless night puts you in Gator Tillmanâs line of sight, and he doesnât look away. What starts as suspicion turns into protection. And somewhere between shattered glass, small-town politics, and stolen moments in the kitchen, you both choose something neither of you were raised to believe in: love.
Note: Hadnât really intended for this to become a whole thing but your girl got carried away. Iâm a Gator simp, idc. Also, this is my first Gator fic, itâs also my first tumblr fic upload so be nice.
Part One - The Stop
Part Two - Eyes on You
Part Three - In The Open
Part Four - Damage
Part Five - Fallout
Part Six - Aftermath
--Complete--
I actually love you if you read all of this. Thankyou, thankyou, thankyou!
Summary: Accidents happen. Sometimes theyâre harmless, sometimes they change the entire trajectory of your life. But here you are, two years later, back in Hawkins and ready to finally share what youâve had to keep to yourself with the man who made it happen.
cw: accidental pregnancy, unintentional keeping secret of a pregnancy, starts between the epilogue of season 5, dad!steve harrington x mom!reader, slow burn, more to come as the story progresses.
Summary: After fleeing a controlling relationship, you return to the remote cabin your grandfather left you outside Fargo, hoping for a quiet fresh start. Instead, old memories begin resurfacingâalong with Gator Tillman, the boy who once knew you better than anyone. As your past slowly unravels, it becomes clear that the life you left behind isnât done with you yet.
Note: When I tell you this is 100% self indulgent. This is literally based on my own memory problem lol. Like I canât remember anything from before I was sixteen/seventeen, my brain just went ânah, you donât need thatâ. Also, it definitely wasnât supposed to become a NOVEL but I just got into it, apologies. Anyway, if you hate it, thatâs cool, love you. Mimi <3
Part One: Thick as Thieves
Part Two: Dust and Dreams
Part Three: Daughters and Dealings
Part Four: Storms and Scars
Part Five: Rubble and Records
Part Six: Love and Lightbulbs
Part Seven: Cabinet of Curiosities
Part Eight: Papers and Pursuit
Part Nine: Campaigns and Corruption
Part Ten: Trust and Truth
Part Eleven: Windows and Worries
Part Twelve: Lunch and Liaisons
Part Thirteen: Calls and Coffee
Part Fourteen: Mugshots and Mirrors
Part Fifteen: Mothers and Microphones
Part Sixteen: Parties and Promises
I am so grateful to everyone who has read this series, you are legends. There is a chance I may come back and write a Part 2 at some point, but for now this is complete. Mimi <3
Synopsis: How you and Steve bridge the gap between almost strangers to slightly more. 18+!!!
[a/n: this was so fun to write. Mostly shameless smut but still, thought it would be cool to show the beginning while we wait for the next episodes to drop. Have so much fun with this. Enjoy.]
The basement of the WSQK radio station wasnât where you imagined youâd be spending most of your summer evenings in your fresh adulthood.
You didnât spend a lot of time casting forward in your mind's eye anymore. You used to have big ideas about what you would do when you one day left Hawkins. What you would do on your twenty-first birthday. The city you would live in. The apartment you would have that was just yours.
These were flashes of plans youâd long resigned now that you were well past a year deep into the lockdown.
Itâs not often youâre alone in the âclub-house.â Usually youâd file out at the same time as everyone else, but you were hanging back hoping to see if Dustin might appear. Heâd flaked on the meeting, and when youâd called home it was confirmed that he wasnât there either.
Deep down you knew it was unlikely he would show up now, it was evening now. Summer was here and the nights were short, and the dark had swallowed the day. You couldnât be sure what time it was exactly but it was at least ten.
By the time you drove yourself home it was more likely than not that heâd have arrived back and delivered himself to bed.
Maybe you were lingering in the now empty radio station to remain for longer in the quiet. You wouldnât have to drive past the barricades that kept you locked, imprisoned hereâ helplessly making plans that never seem to yield results.
You busy yourself with collecting the trash strewn around the basement. Not that it would make any difference. There was no amount of tidying that would clear the clutter that lived down here. Too many bodies, too many maps, too many ideas living in one space.
Youâre thinking while you move. Thereâs always something to think about these days. Nothing to be done about it though. Youâve been stalled into complete inaction. You were frozenâ stuck in 1986 just as the last bell tolled. You keep expecting to wake up one day looking different, or to face a new routine. But it never changes.
The song remains the same.
Youâre so wrapped in your own mind scramblesâ inside of your head looking alarmingly similar to the messy room that lay before youâ you donât hear the footsteps padding down to you.
âGeez, Henderson. What are you still doing here?â You hear from behind you.
It steals a yelp of surprise from you. You spin round with the trash bag strapped to your chest like a force field.
You know itâs Steve even before facing him, but it doesnât dampen the initial shock. Heâs halfway down the stairs, elbows balanced on the railing, amused grim yanking at the corners of his mouth.
âYou scared me, did you float down or something?â
Heâs chuckling softly. âI was loud, you obviously just scare easily.â
You flip him off. Itâs all playful.
You like Steve. In a way.
You didnât really have a whole lot of material to go off. You guys wouldnât be around each other if it werenât for all this bother forced upon you. And Dustin who was weirdly attached to him.
Come to think of it, this twenty second interaction you guys were having was the first one youâd had alone ever.
You continue your path, cleaning as you go and you can see him pushing forward into the room from the corner of your eye. You donât think that heâll linger long. It wasnât like you and Steve have much to make small talk about, and the meeting just past saw all your usual talking points covered for the day.
âDo you make a habit of cleaning up after we go?â Steve asks, confidently breezing past you.
His probing joke has you shooting a look that you hope stresses how unimpressed you are with his charming comedian routine.
âNot as a rule. What about you? You always sneak back?â
Youâre surprised when Steve leans on the table just off from you. Heâs crossed his arms in what seems to be amusement at your sudden defensiveness. He seems to be settling in for a longer stay than you thought.
You find it tricky with Steve.
He was a reformed popular guy, and you donât have fond memories of him from school. Never directly of course. But you werenât blind to the banal cruelty of him, Tommy and Carol.
The most you guys spoke before Will went missing was him asking you for a pencil in math sophomore year. You were sort of off the radar to him through school. Nonetheless you find speaking to him sometimes feels like youâre being studied like an animal in a lab.
âI forgot my keys.â He explains, nodding directly beside him on the table where they lay abandoned. âNow you?â
You think about lying. Maybe saying that you felt bad leaving the mess or that youâd lied before and cleaned after everyone left regularly but it seems like more energy than you have to spare right now. Besides, you were a crappy liar.
You sigh, surrendering the guarded act, dropping the bag at your feet and moving forward to sit next to him on the table.
âI thought Dustin might appear.â The sincerity in your voice surprised even you.
Steve seems to be less bemused by the answer, maybe hoping it would be something more entertaining than the woes of a big sister worrying about her brother. He pushes himself back, sitting himself fully on the table, mirroring you. His dangling just a bit less than yours, almost brushing the floor from the length of his legs.
âAh, I see. The prodigal son routine heâs been doing.â
You sniff back a hint of a laugh.
âPretty much.â
Heâs quiet for a minute but you can see the thought bubbling on his chin.
âYou think heâs going to warm back up again any time soon?â He doesnât sound like heâs just curious. It seems like he was feeling just as concerned as youâve been.
You think for a second, even though the answer was already there. You knew the pain was only getting more pronounced for Dustin. You remember holding him the day he spoke to Wayne, after the upside down spilled out into your once safe town. The way his back crashed with every cry that left him.
No, it was clear that it wouldnât be in sight for a while. Still you think Steve would have a better insight to it than you. Dustin came to you for comfort, but not advice. You donât have council with him on the inner workings of his head. Steve does.
âYouâd probably know better than me. Thought you guys are best friends for life?â You tease.
Steve shrugs and shuffles around. He doesnât seem to be as convinced as you. âHeâs been pretty hard to reach recently.â
You donât look at him when you nod, just blankly staring ahead. âI hear that.â
It was only little things that were different with him now. He was much more insular these days. Heâs not open about where was but you had hoped against hope that maybe it was Steve he was disappearing with. Youâre chewing your cuticles before you realise it. Suddenly much more concerned that Steve hadnât been getting a look behind the curtain either.
Steve leaps up ahead of where you sit with a velocity that makes you narrow in on him. Itâs sudden but heâs going with purpose. Heâs sort of skipping over to the corner of the basement.
âUmâ what ya doinâ bud?â You question unmoved.
âYouâll see.â He replies, throwing an easy smile over his shoulder.
Itâs unhelpable that it gives you a flutter. Heâs a pretty affable guy.
Heâs rustling around under a stack of files and drawers on a shelf over the room. When he stands and turns back heâs holding two beers, a giddy expression gracing his face.
You raise an eyebrow at him perplexed that he not only hid beers here but was sharing them.
âYou keep beer here?â You ask incredulously.
Itâs not like it was illegal for either of you to purchase beers now. He doesnât have to hide them in the first place.
He shrugs and hands you one before hopping up on the table once more. âSometimes. For when Iâve had a bad day.â
You twist the cap on the bottle before giggling to yourself. âAnd what does the Steve Harrington have bad days over?â
You find it hard to believe that someone like him ever has a shitty day. He just seems the type to have it simple. Wake up everyday with a pep in his step.
Maybe you just donât know him that well.
âOh you know, being trapped in this town, working with my ex and her boyfriend, constantly running from mortal peril.â
Youâre suddenly feeling rather bad about doubting that he might suffer just like the rest of you.
You wince when you turn to look at him. He doesnât seem offended. He has the same easy look on him he always does.
âSorry. That was rude. I sometimes forget you're a mere mortal like the rest of us.â
You both sip in unison.
âWell, wouldnât go that far.â He smirks. âBut the upside for you is that I recognise the signs of a bad day. And you, my friend, have it written all over you.â
You donât want to correct him by saying you were actually having a bad year. Thereâs no need to sour the mood even further.
Instead you smile into the neck of the bottle. âAm I that obvious?â
Heâs nodding knowingly. Like you donât even need to ask. Itâs surprising to you that heâs so in tune with other peopleâs emotions. Itâs not often people surprise you. Least of all a guy like Steve Harrington.
âOh absolutely. I too have been subject to Dustinâs wrath so Iâm assuming whatever you're getting is ten times worse.â
Itâs not so much wrath you would call it. You donât bother to correct him. It was icy silence you were getting. But what would be the use in speaking about it? Youâre already planning your exit from this subject. Steve wasnât someone you think you were ready to get completely vulnerable with. Although you definitely owed him for the beer because you had needed it.
âSo, Nancy?â You question.
You sort of feel like you ought to ask since he mentioned it. Plus, as an outsider looking in on Steveâs life- because thatâs really all you are- it hasnât been unnoticed that he was pining for Nancy as recently as last spring.
He groans forwardly and fully turns to face you, one leg remaining dangled off the side and the other pulled up in front of him on the table. You mimic him so that youâre both facing each other now.
He raises his eyebrow at you. âAre we about to have a deep and meaningful?â
You sip your beer and motion from him to go ahead with a flick of your wrist.
âIâm over it.â He mumbles, less convincing than you think he might realise. âMostly. Guess Iâm not over the idea of it. Itâs just hard watching her and Jonathon be soâŠâ
He trails off at the end and finds your eye line to shrug at you weakly. You understand the struggle to find the right words for stuff. You donât speak about your emotions for that exact reason.
âWell, for what itâs worth, you seem to be handling it remarkably well.â You attempt to smile reassuringly. Youâre not sure if it translates but he smiles back nonetheless.
You guys sit in silence for a couple minutes. Itâs not tense like you thought it would be. Considering how unfamiliar you guys were with each other. It was just nice to talk to someone about something other than monsters and gates and military missions.
You think he might feel the same.
âYou know, I think this is the first time weâve ever hung out alone.â He ponders aloud.
Youâre surprised heâs only just realised that. Itâs the first thing you thought of.
âIt definitely is.â You correct laughing gently.
He looks back up at you with perplexed wrinkles whispering on his strong brows. Even with all the time youâve spent fleeing for your life with him, youâve never considered how handsome he actually was. Not even back in school when people worshipped the ground he walked on. You suppose this is the effect he must have on all the girls, considering thereâs always someone fawning over him somewhere in the wings.
He must be a picky guy because you donât imagine it would be slim pickings for him.
âWhyâd we never hang out in school?â He asks, picking at a fray on his Leviâs.
You snort before you can help it. The answer to that would only be evasive to a guy like him. He was a law unto himself in school. You bet that question wouldâve never crossed his mind all those years ago. Why would you guys hang out was the real question?
You spent all of high school doing most of the heavy lifting raising Dustin. You went to a party once every three months and all your friends were in the poetry club. Steve wouldnât have noticed you unless you were shotgunning beers at keggers.
âWe didnât exactly run in the same circles, Steve.â You point out.
Heâs pulling in a large gulp of the unfortunately warm beer but holding up a hand to convey he had a thought about what you were saying.
âThatâs not entirely true, Henderson. Didnât you and Scott Turner bang?â
You choke on your own spit at the allegation.
Scott Turner was as close to a mutual friend you guys had for all of school. And that was a push as is. Scott tried to grope you at one school dance because youâd tutored him in English for half a semester. You kicked him back with as much conviction as you could beyond physically attacking him.
âIs that what he told you?â You giggle.
Itâs not funny that he spun that story, but the fact that Steveâs been thinking itâs trueâ is.
âWell⊠yeah?â He laughs back. âIs it not true?â
âThat little weasel.â You groan. âTo set the record straightâ I did not sleep with Scott. Iâve slept with one guy, and that was at a summer camp junior year. I doubt Toby even knows Hawkins exists.â
It slips out before you can stop it. Maybe the social lubrication was prying more candid information out of you than you should be sharing, especially admitting to being ostensibly celibate for the better part of four years to a guy like Steve.
His response doesnât make the regret linger because he smirks at you.
âToby?â He probes. âDid he ruin you for everyone else then? No one in Hawkins worth the bother?â
Your cheeks flush a burning red. If you didnât know any better the way that he was speaking to you could be read as flirting but you couldnât be sure due to Steveâs habit of being a self-confessed âladies man.â
âNo, oh my god, stop.â Youâre choking out too many words in one breath. You fumble around trying to find your normal voice again. Youâre willing the heat on your face to cool off. âI just never have the time. I donât know how you do it.â
Steveâs shaking his head at you like youâd said something comically wrong. But you wonât take on any bashfulness about his active dating life.
You push forward to shove him before you can even think about it. The physical contact doesnât feel like it was a big plunge for you. Maybe you just wanted to touch him. A little.
âCome on, donât hold out on me Harrington. Donât think I didnât see you in action in Family Video.â
He holds his hands up in surrender.
âNot in a long time.â
You think on it, and maybe heâs right. Youâve not seen him out on a date with anyone from what you can tell. But you donât think itâs for any reason other than a lack of time. And opportunity.
You roll your eyes before you can help it.
âRun out of talent?â
He scoffs and nudges your knee with his trainer.
âPlenty of beautiful girls out there, but Iâm trying to find the one. You know?â
You donât actually know. You werenât really one to look, you werenât hoping to stumble across the love of your life. Youâre the sort of person that kind of waits for life to come to you. Which meant there wasnât a long line of suitors who could be your forever person.
âNot me.â You mumble. âI find it hard to imagine my soul mate has been living a couple streets over from me my whole life.â
Thereâs a look from him that you can only attribute to sympathy. Or pity. Which you wouldn't like.
âThatâs kind of bleak, Henderson.â
You sigh and shift uncomfortably under the pressure you were feeling by your unintentional moment of honesty.
âItâs not that I wouldnât like to find someone. I just think that looking wonât help. I can settle for a Toby every couple of years until the right one falls in my lap.â
Steve regards you, and you pull up to look at him waiting for him to say something. He just rakes his eyes up and down your form.
âWhat?â You press.
He flushes a little and shrugs. You see it travel up his neck and over his ears. Itâs almost endearing.
âI just canât believe Iâve never noticed how pretty you are before.â He mumbles.
The world slows around you. The words to say back are slippery, you canât seem to grab hold of any of them. Steve could just be placating you out of empathy for your apathetic attitude toward physical intimacy. But it doesnât feel like that. It feels more certain.
More intentional than that.
âShut up.â You chuckle breathlessly. âYou know that charm doesnât work on me.â
He doesnât say anything back, he just keeps you in the hold of his eyes.
The air is much thicker now it feels like. Humid, and heavy. You know that you could stand up and shake off the tension in a second and you guys would meander upstairs to your separate cars never to speak of this again.
But youâre not sure you donât want to see how itâll play out. Right to the end. Regardless of how stupid it might be.
Thereâs a shift in the air, almost like a crackle of electricity and as if being puppeteered by someone else, youâre both pushed against each other, meeting in the middle. Connected by the gasping clash of your lips.
Thereâs no thoughts that seem to dictate how and where you touch him. Your hands are tangled in his hair, and the kiss is barely a peck before itâs open mouthedâ dirty. His hand is pushed into your lower back to pull you forward so the space between you seems only fractional.
You can feel the waves of heat coming off his golden skin. The biting want is pulling you to try to and capture the warmth in every part of you.
When his tongue grazes over your bottom lip, you meet it back with the same brushing rub.
You gasp into his mouth when his hand travels lower to grab your ass and yank you upward so your thighs come to cage his hips.
Had you not been so tangled in the tantalising kiss and bound by the sweet smell of cheap beer and vanilla on him, youâd feel how hard the wood of the table was on your knees. But youâre just thankful to be that little bit closer to having him where you want him.
Thereâs nothing innocent in what you want to do with him right now. It wasnât a question of if, it was a question of when.
His hands are attached to your hips, dragging you to be flush against his crotch. You feel everything you need to know under you about what Steve wanted from this.
You grind your weight into the stiffness under you, and it shatters through him. You feel the stutter in his breath on your mouth.
Youâre working in tandem now. Wordlessly.
You disconnect at the same time and hold his stare. His pupils are blown out. Youâre not seeing any hint of doubt about what you were doing. You werenât feeling any different about it either.
Usually your sensible, better head would be laying out all the possible negative outcomes from your actions. But all you really want to do right now is jump his bones.
You donât think youâve ever needed like this before. Every part of your body was screaming for him to touch you.
âAre we doing this?â He asks, fingers dancing under the bottom of your shirt, tantalising the flesh of your hip.
âI think weâre gonna have to.â
He seems to understand exactly what you mean by that. The silent agreement that now that youâve started, now that you know how good it feels, you canât just stop.
He flips you guys over the way, so that youâre almost in the middle of the table now, him above you between your parted legs. He pulls his shirt over his head and youâre already mapping the freckles and moles along his stomach. Mentally cataloguing them.
He looks at you expectantly. To which you also yank your shift overhead. He makes no effort to hide that heâs looking you over.
âThereâs no way weâre going to be normal friends after this, is there?â He asks.
You smile and shake your head, before yanking him down by the neck to capture him in a kiss.
The shedding of his other clothes is unconscious to you. You were just thankful that youâd worn a skirt today so you didnât have to strip yourself completely naked on the table you guys used everyday. You shift your hips up to let him weave his hands under the denim and pull at your childish cotton underwear.
You curse yourself for not owning nicer pants. It wasnât like Hawkins had a width of fancy underwear stores.
The broken noise that escapes you when you feel his fingers graze over the most intimate parts of you comes from deep within. From a place even you didnât know you had.
Yeah, you had slept with that guy at camp, but it wasnât anything like this. It had been clinical. Planned to a degree that removed all the joy from it. You just wanted to not be a virgin anymore.
This was something primal. Something that you felt powerless over.
You can feel a flooding need in your most private parts. If you were any less turned on youâd be embarrassed by how wet you were when all you guys had done was make out. But the growl that bites out of Steve when he swipes along it steals any doubt you were feeling.
âChrist.â He mumbles when he drags the wet up to hook into your bundle of nerves.
You canât even keep your head up the way, you let it lull back and hit the table harder than youâd meant to. The whimper sounds unfamiliar to you.
Heâs nipping under your jawline as he applies pressure to you down below.
Itâs unlike anything youâve ever felt before. Even when you do it yourself.
âWoah.â You jerk your hips up the way a little.
Steve pushes the palm of his hand down on the bottom of your pelvis to hold in place.
âYouâre like, really sensitive.â Steve points out.
Your breaths are coming in laboured pants, and you force yourself to look at him.
Heâs smirking like heâs pleased that you seem to be so into it. Into him.
âIâmâ Iâm not exactly doing this regularly.â
You guys donât really bother doing much more than the slight rubbing heâd been doing. It wasnât like you needed any help getting into it. And when you sat up to try and palm Steve over his boxers heâd caged your wrist with his hand and stopped you.
He didnât need to say why, you already knew that he was ready too.
When he strips off his boxers, you catch sight of all of him now. Itâs the first time you panic about what you guys are about to do. Heâs a lot bigger than youâd thought heâd be. Youâre doing calculations on if itâll even fit.
He obviously catches your panicked stare because when he brings himself over you to line up, he peppers a kiss on lips.
âWeâll go slow, yeah?â
Thereâs a hint of arrogance. Even in your heightened state you want to tell him off for being so cocky. But you canât get to it because he pushes in an inch or so.
You groan, unintentionally in unison with him. The shake in his arms that are caging your head would make you think that itâs been a while for him too.
Every inch welcomes a new level of stretch. Youâre hissing through your teeth, nails digging into his sides as he very carefully sunk himself bit by bit.
He was restraining himself in a way youâre grateful for. Ladies man Steve was apparently a gentleman too.
When he completely hilts, pelvis kissing yours, youâre completely brain dead. All you can think is how full you suddenly were. Wherever he was brushing against inside you felt like you were floating somewhere above ground. Itâs unexplainable.
Heâs forehead to collarbone with you. Itâs faint but you can hear him cursing slightly.
âYouâre so tight.â He groans, hips grinding slightly forward.
You keen at the slight movement and tap his side a bit to try and let him know that if he didnât move you might die.
He gets it without you saying anything and he pulls almost the entire way out, before thrusting back in. The drag is like every good feeling youâve ever had in one. Even the battering pace he maintained didnât feel sore anymore because you were desperate to try and maintain the steady building you were feeling in the lower part of your stomach.
There was speaking, you know that but everything is like word soup to you. Youâre so out of your mind with pleasure that you canât even distinguish his noises from yours.
Especially when he pushes one of your legs up by the bend and seems to hit even deeper than you thought he ever could.
âFuck.â You yelp, leaning up to circle your arms over his shoulders.
One of his hands tucks under your lower back and pulls you up so that almost all of your rear is no longer touching the table.
You guys are moving in complete harmony. You donât even have to think about meeting each pump he throws at you.
Heâs aggressive in the bites heâs leaving over your neck and chest. You know thereâs only seconds left, if that, in what you have to give.
The noises you're making are sobs now, instead of moans and the entire lower part of your body is pulsing in a violent shake.
Heâs definitely not far behind because his movement is less precise and more fevered and desperate. He lets you both fall back on the table and as he meets you again, your body is tensing up in a clench so violent that it renders you completely frozen, mouth falling open in a scream of pure ecstasy.
Youâre completely out of your body, youâre faintly aware of feeling the stutter of his hips and the final shove of him inside you. Youâre only half in your head when you feel him pull out, the clench of your walls around nothing is how you know.
You guys lay covered in each other's sweat, nothing but laboured breathing and the far away noise of cicadas to be heard in the basement.
You barely register Steve interlocking your fingers between you guys.
Your heartbeat is in your ears when you roll over to look at him, still in your keds and skirt. Heâs pulled his boxers back on without standing up.
He turns a slight bit to give you a toothy grin. You want to be embarrassed or regretful. But youâre not. You just meet him back with a shy smile.
He clears his throat. âSo⊠better than Toby from summer camp then?â
Summary: You and Steve had sex a little over a month ago. You were two weeks late. Dying from stress and anxiety, you decide to just take a test. Your results? Positive. And when do you find this all out? Right before youâre taken by a Demogorgan. Set in Season 5 of Stranger Things.
Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, sex, angst, cuss words, blood, and maybe more. idk SLIGHT SEASON 5 SPOILERS
Steve x fem!reader | angst, eventual smut, pregnancy fic, mentions of abortion | 2.7k | miniseries
masterlist
âAre you stupid?â Hopper hissed, his fist red and angry, dust and cracked drywall at his feet. He was looking at Steve with such anger, such despair, that Steve suddenly felt at home in his kitchen. âAre you truly that stupid?â
âHop,â Joyceâs tone was a warning, her hand holding Steveâs shoulder as he barrelled into the centre of the kitchen, staring at the older man with as much disbelief as the chief held for him.
âYou think we planned this?â Steve scoffed, a humourless laugh bubbling from his throat because nothing about this as fucking funny. âYou think we wanted this to happen?â
Hopper was leaning his hands onto the table, his head bent, his entire body unmoving. âYou shouldâve been careful. Jesus Christ, you shouldâve been fucking careful! This is freshman year shit, Harrington! You get a goddamn rubber and a banana andââ
Jonathan and Robin were standing against the wall, lips parted and unmoving as they watched the scene unfold.
âFuck off, Hop,â Steve growled, his jaw set, his eyes narrowed. He felt wild, he felt unhinged, he felt all the emotions he tried to keep in so that he didnât scare you. âYou donât think accidents happen? What the fuck were we supposed to do? Double bag it and pray?â
âDude,â Jonathan groaned, dragging his hands across his face and into his hair as Robin sank down onto the kitchen chair again, her face frozen with shock.
âYou couldâve sat on your fucking hands,â Hop seethed, âyou couldâve watched a damn movie or fuck, I donât know, considered the fact that thereâs a fucking thing - a goddamn creature - out there thatâs planning to end the fucking world!â
Hopper's anger only fuelled Steveâs frustration, his fears, his upset. Fire on fire, the heat in the kitchen crawling upwards, an explosion simmering in wait. Steve tugged at the ends of his hair, resorted back to his usual defence tactics and spat his response with sarcasm and a sneer.
âGee Hop! I didnât realise you were practicing abstinence in these trying times!â Steve moved to the sink, shoving a glass under the faucet with a shaking hand. âDonât treat us like fucking kids. Weâre notâ weâre not stupid, alright? We didnât meanâ shit...â
If you had crumpled before, Steve folded like a stack of cards. His back hit the kitchen cabinet, his knees betraying him as he slid down the wood and onto the cold tiles.
He felt hands on his, smaller, softer, familiar. Robin knelt before him, eyes still wide and panicked, and he knew her head would be rushing with it all, with thoughts and problems and answers and solutions. He waited to hear her rambles, her panicked voice rushing to fix things but instead:
âIs she okay?â
Steve let out a breath, wincing at the sharp pain it caused in his chest and he nodded. Then he shrugged. âSheâs sleeping,â he said, his voice hoarse. âI donât know what to do.â
Hopper spoke before Joyce could. His voice louder, his tone harsher. It made Steve flinch, it made him think of his dad.
âWell lemme help you out, kid.â Hopper moved to stand where Steve could see him, a looming figure from Steveâs vantage point on the floor. âItâs pretty easy, âcause thereâs only one thing to do. I know itâs not nice to talk about, but we gotta be realisticââ
âJimâŠâ Joyce tried to interject, her voice cracking.
âWeâve not decided anything,â Steve answered. He sounded like he was underwater, his ears ringing. âThereâs more than one option, Hop, and we havenât spoken about any of them yet.â
The older man laughed, mirthless, frustrated. Steve stood and Robin did too, both of them blinking in surprise when Jonathan moved to stand beside them. Steve met his eyes and the other boy nodded.
âCan we all cut the bullshit?â Hopper asked, thick brows furrowed, his arms spread wide as he addressed the room. âWeâre all out there every night - no, sorry, on the nights we can get around the military surveillance - trying to find a goddamn fucking half human who wants to do shit knows what. What do you mean thereâs more than one option?â
âWe havenât spoken about anything, Hop, alright!â Steve snapped, tried not to yell because he didnât want to wake you, not yet, not for you to be involved in all of this. âIâm gonna do whatever she wants me to do! Itâs not my fucking decision to make and it sure as fuck isnât yours.â
âIâm trying to keep everyone alive, Steve! Your girl included!â Hopper did yell, his voice hitching as his eyes widened and when Joyce moved to place a calming hand on his arm, he simply moved away. âIâve got a bunch of fucking kids running around in tunnels and vans and Jesus Christâ Iâm trying, Iâm trying to make sure my other daughter doesnât dââ
He cut himself off, the silence in the kitchen abrupt and painful. No one spoke for a few seconds, no one moved and Steve shook his head, the edges of it starting to throb and sting. He was so tired.
âYou forget weâve lost people too, yâknow.â Steve settled his gaze on Jim, his shoulders losing their sharp set. âWe thought weâd lost you, for fuck sake. We had a funeral! Andâ a-and I, Jesus, I buried Eddie Munsonâs fucking body and had to d-drag Dustin away from it before he ended up the same way. We had to tell his uncle we didnât know what happened. I had toâ I had to drive Lucas to the hospital with Max in the back of my car and⊠and there was so much fucking blood, Hopper. We thought weâd lost her too.â
His voice split in half then, remembering, reliving. It cracked down the middle and his chest heaved. Steve couldnât help the tears that spilled and he swore at them, swiping angrily at his face whilst Robin turned to the wall, her own shoulders shaking. He moved to the other side of the island from Hopper, setting his hands on it and making sure the other man felt every word he was about to say.
âDid you ever think that maybe, just for a change, we wanna try fucking living?â
Steve could feel his heartbeat in his ears, a white hot roar in his chest that made the back of his neck prickle. There were too many emotions to process, too many to keep up with. He didnât know where to begin and everything in him was telling him to go back to you. He dropped his gaze, thankful that no one spoke. He felt everyoneâs eyes on him as he moved around his kitchen, filling up an old Hawkins High water bottle from the tap as he grabbed a packet of chips and a couple of cold pizza rolls the kids had managed to miss.
Tucking the bottle under his arm, he balanced the rest on a plate as he dug out his keys from his pocket with his free hand. âAnyone whoâs crashing, thereâs spare pillows and shit in the cupboard in the hall. If youâre not,â he dropped the keys with a harsh clatter on the kitchen counter. Steve flicked his gaze briefly towards the old Chief, before turning his back. âMail the keys after you lock up.â
His legs felt heavy as he climbed the stairs, his feet concrete. But he tried his best not to let his bedroom door make too much noise as he opened it. The space was still dark, a line of orange-yellow light cracking through the shadows from the hallway. You were still curled on your side, your hands fisting the sheets below you but your tired eyes were open, watching as Steve peered into the room.
Guilt bloomed in his chest but he smiled through it, feeling softer as he moved towards you. The door clicked shut, throwing you both back into the inky night, the glow from the pool lights below the window making water that wasnât there ripple across Steveâs walls and ceilings.
âHey,â he murmured, placing the snacks heâd brought you on the nightstand. Steve crawled back into bed, trying his best to be gentle as he lay down beside you. He scanned your face, your red rimmed eyes, your messy hair. âHowâre you feelinâ?â
You shifted closer, your hands releasing his duvet in order to find his own, clutching at him like a lifeline. You sighed, eyes closing, lashes brushing your cheeks and your nose bumped his. You couldnât get close enough, there wasnât enough contact, enough exposed skin, enough affection to rid you of the anxiety that had made its home in the middle of your chest.
âI donât know,â you whispered and your voice was broken, your throat raw. âAre you okay?â
Like Steve could sense what you wanted - no, needed - he drew his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly close. He coaxed one of your legs over his, nudging at your throat with his nose until you shifted, lifting your chin to let him in, each of your faces buried in the other's neck.
âIâm okay as long as you are,â he murmured against your skin. He snuck his hands under the hem of your shirt, your skin bed warmed and soft. He followed the curve of your spine, your hip, your waist. âYou hungry? I got some snacks.â
You made no move to surface from his embrace, merely nudging closer into his arms. Steve felt your lashes brush his neck; long, slow blinks that made him think you werenât quite fully awake yet.
âAwful brave of you,â you mumbled. Small hands found their way into the mess of hair at the nape of his neck, twisting and pulling gently. Steve shivered, held you closer still. âYou went into the lion's den for those?â
âYou heard, huh?â
âHard not to,â you whispered. âThey sounded mad.â
Steve shook his head, pulling back so he could look at you. The shadows seemed to swallow you, your eyes the only bright thing left in the room but Steve feared that was because of the leftover tears in them. âJust Hop, babe. Yâknow how he gets.â He swallowed thickly, watching your eyes flutter as he smoothed a hand over your cheek, his thumb catching your lip. âKept askinâ what we were gonna do.â
Your breath left you with a shake, a quiver. Sitting up, you scrubbed at your face, trying to get rid of the sleep that still clung to it. Steve followed, crossed legged in front of you and he handed you a bag of chips.
Barbecue. Your favourite. Your stomach lurched.
âWhat did you tell him?â You asked it with genuine curiosity because Steveâs side of the conversation had been much quieter in volume than the Chiefâs. Maybe youâd feel better if Steve told you that he had a plan, maybe the gnawing ache in your stomach would fuck off if somebody - anybody - just told you what to do. âWhat did you say?â
âThat we were gonna do whatever you wanted to do.â Steve said it with absolute certainty. Like it was a no brainer. He watched your eyes well up with fresh tears, saw the way your bottom lip jutted and wobbled. He didnât want to ask, not yet, not now but the panic that had bloomed in his chest was coming alive again, it was too big to contain, it wasâ âdo you⊠uh, do you know what you want to do?â
You stifled a sob as you looked at him, your hands coming up to lay on your stomach but you thought better of it before they could land. You grabbed the chips instead, the crinkling packet hiding the sounds of your choked breaths. âIâm, umâ fuck. Iâm not sure yet.â You found Steveâs gaze, your own eyes wild and unsure. âThatâs so stupid, right?â Your voice didnât just crack, it splintered, a raw sounding thing that made Steveâs heart shatter with it.
âHoneyââ his hands found yours, trapping them between his palms and he brought them to his lips, his mouth running over your fingertips in a touch that wasnât a kiss but just as sweet.
âThatâs so fucking stupid, isnât it?â You hiccuped each word, stuttering and sobbing as you shook your head. âThere should be only one option, right? Likeâ like itâs not safe to consider anything elseâ to even think about a reality where we could haveâ fuck, have aââ
You bit down on your lip, too hard, like you could stop the word from leaving your mouth. Like you could stop it from happening. As if not saying it, would make it any less true.
âA baby?â Steve whispered.
You nodded, tears tracking down your cheeks. You wondered if this wouldâve been different. If it wouldâve been different if youâd found out this news in your own pink tiled bathroom. If you had bought a test and waited for Steve to return home from work to show him in quiet shock.
Would it have been different if your doctors office wasnât in a military base, would it have been different if there werenât men on the street with trucks and guns? Would it have been different if there weren't monsters under your feet, if there wasnât danger in every shadow?
Because how did you protect someone you loved from people who did bad things, when those people could rip through your bedroom wall?
Steve was crying too and you thought that that maybe hurt the most. He was always so strong, so stoic in the face of the harsh reality they lived in. But maybe this was simply too much.
But thenâ
âNo,â he murmured. Soft, quiet, reverent. âUh, I donât think itâs stupid at all. Not if you think it isnât.â
You blinked at him in surprise, lips parting, breath stuck in your chest.
