Welcome to my official site for everything related to fanfic recs! Since I'm not a writer I am an avid fanfiction reader and have been for 10 years. Reading fanfiction is my greatest guilty pleasure and I dare say I have an eye for great fics. I read all categories: smut, angst, romance, friends to lovers, etc.! I've decided that I'd love to do the work for YOU!
My submission requests go live in 2026. So to prepare, please take a moment to review my basic rules:
This is my official list of my main list that I'll consistently post for and have the most knowledge of. Any other requests are ALWAYS welcome but will take a little more time of curating.
Stranger Things
Harry Styles
A Court of Thorns and Roses
Shameless
Hunger Games
Harry Potter
The Society
2. For each post I will clarify which site I found the fic from. The main three sites I personally use is:
Tumblr
Fanfiction.net
AO3
3. Please note that I do work a full time job so if you do submit a request for a fic search then please allow 1-3 days as my hours are weird and sometimes I work overtime.
OFFICIAL REMINDER!!!!!!!!
My site is purely for entertainment and escaping-reality purposes. I will not tolerate hate of any kind and any comment, reblog, and ask requests will be monitored and I will delete if necessary. Please keep my page as inclusive as possible so everyone feels welcome.
what r some of the best heated rivalry fics you’ve read i have become desperate for recs lol (yes i am up to date on frequently secretly fond of each other and obsessed with it lol)
oohhhhh well first of all thank u for the fic love!!! and second of all what a good question, i am a whore for good writing and these are the ones that come to mind first!!
Gatorade Galas & Moscow Mules by toraten - 34k, E
anyone who's reading the authors notes in frequently secretly fond of each other already knows that this fic blew my mind lmao. post-s1 fic that i kinda wish the show would base season 2 on lmao
In the Sound of Bells by villavona - 3k, E
short but very powerful and well written, set during sochi olympics if they hooked up there, with ilya childhood lore that i Loved
Alligator Bites Never Heal by flawlessassholes - WIP, 23k, E
ilya gets a bad injury and recuperates at shane's place. the writing in this fic really entranced me
as reliable as the sun by astrolesbian - 7k, T
set over their time at the cottage, them learning to fit into each other's spaces, really lovely character voices
something you can fix by some1_around - 29k, M
shane is outed while ilya is away in russia after his dad dies. there was a scene early on in this fic that has stuck with me soooo much ever since i read it. even tho how shane is treated through a lot of this is painful ;-;
Sit Tight, I'm Not Far Out From You Tonight by hollanoved - 16k, E
this is more smut-forward than most of what i read but it was SO well written with a lot of fascinating character work, and did an amazing job of playing out something (shane in lingerie) without falling onto any infantilising/problematically feminising of shane, which is a thing i hate lmao
lay all your love on me by defcontwo - 7k, M
a great take on hayden finding out by walking in on shane and ilya at the cottage!
decorate my heart by beetlesandstars, kryptonian - 15k, E
ilya unexpectedly ends up spending the christmas break with shane. this one is just so well written
okay those are all the ones i'm thinking of for now but i hope you enjoy!!
5 Times Ilya Was Confused by a Canadianism 12 k. This is a series of vignettes that cover the show timeline until Chapter 3, from Chapter 4 onwards it veers off into post-show territory, if you're trying to avoid book spoilers.
+1 time he completely understood
Anyone who knows me won't be surprised I enjoyed a fic that is about language variation and cultural differences. This is a lot of fun.
It's hard but it's harder to ignore it . Set during ep 6.
“I think I saw your charger.”
vid blinks as he turns back in his chair. “I’m sorry?”
aka
the missing scene of David and Ilya while Shane and Yuna were talking outside.
God I love dialogue-heavy stories. Perfect character voices. Fits show canon perfectly.
how your garden grows by@ecotoned. I'm unclear when this is set, timeline wise, so be careful if you're trying to avoid spoilers.
Who needs a nice guy in Montreal, anyway? (or; 5 people who were pleasantly surprised by ilya rozanov)
Shane's loved ones warming up to Ilya is a trope I really love. Takes them a while to realise there's a big ol' softie underneath that gruff exterior, but when they do...❤️
After Heated Rivalry (book)/Episode 6 of the show
The Last Boston Year. 15K.
There's a year between the ending and the epilogue of Heated Rivalry. This is it.
Technically this is a WIP, probably abandoned, but each chapter is a vignette, a snapshot in time and it just works the way it is. This author has possibly some of the best characterisation out there, imo. I can hear Shane and Ilya speaking with their show voices when I read the dialogues in this.
Future Fic (post The Long Game)
The Perfect Play 1K words.
Due to recent social media trends, an NHL stadium brought back the Kiss Cam. Someone decided to point it at Shane and Ilya
So cute!
lines of lightning by @ecotone 13K.
The road to the Stanley Cup is fraught with expectations, injuries, and worst of all, conversations about feelings.
I know nothing about hockey but I like some actual sports in my sports romance and this fic delivers. It also has great characterisation and believable voices, which is a dealbreaker for me. The other two stories in the same series are very good too, btw.
Sock Puppet by @smugrobotics Texting fic.
How to train your boyfriend in one week, guaranteed.
Hilarious and hot. I'm not sure when exactly this falls in the timeline, but it doesn't seem spoilery to me.
AUs
last name (first name) . 11K. The first part is an AU in which they get to come out on their own terms, the second part is canon-compliant with The Long Game.
Part 1: five times they're forced to be Hollander and Rozanov -- and one time they get to be Shane and Ilya. Part 2: five times they choose to be Hollander and Rozanov -- and one time they choose to be Shane and Ilya.
Top-notch characterisation not only for the boys but also all the secondary characters (Marleau, JJ Boizeau, Hayden, Svetlana...possibly more).
Drunk and Disorderly . 4k.
In the midst of the Rose breakup, the Raiders win a game in Montreal. Unable to do what he normally does after Montreal games, Ilya goes out to a club, gets super drunk, and ends up getting picked up by Montreal police for public intoxication. Sitting in a holding cell, the only number he can remember is Shane's.
I don't know if it qualifies as an AU or a missing scene. Excellent outsider POV. I'm a sucker for those.
summary: you accidentally overhear steve calling you “clingy” to robin. instead of confronting him, you retreat into silence, letting your hurt fester. steve notices and becomes desperate to understand, but the more he reaches out, the wider the distance grows.
word count: 6.1k
a/n: after writing way too much steve fluff, it’s time for some angst with my fav trope: fmc overhears her spouse call her clingy… eventual happy ending <3
tags: takes place after s4 timeskip, so much angst, emotional hurt, crying, reader has scars from a demo attack, nancy and robin are so sweet here, distancing, reader has ptsd, emotional vulnerability, reader was eddie's bsf, mentions of violence, trauma, typical upside down gore, lack of communication, so much fluff at the end, happy ending.
You truly didn’t mean to eavesdrop.
If anything, it was an accident, a cruel, stupid accident orchestrated by the universe itself and whatever higher power up there that wanted to see you suffering.
You’d been at the Squawk with Steve and Robin, the three of you crammed into the booth like always. Robin, as usual, was rambling about something while Steve laughed and bumped his knee into yours under the table, grounding you without even trying.
By the time the clock crept past 8:30, the air outside was already dark and heavy, that familiar tightness had started curling in your chest; one that always showed up when it got late.
You’d told yourself you could handle it, that you were fine and you weren’t helpless, but you still asked Steve to accompany you home anyway, too afraid to go on your own.
“Can you come with me?” you’d asked casually, “or at least drive me home?”
Steve frowned, glancing at Robin. “Baby, you’ll be fine. You can go on your own. I’ll be back in like an hour, okay? ”
You nodded and kissed him goodbye, then you walked out to your car telling yourself you weren’t a scared little kid, and that nothing can harm you anymore.
Only to realize halfway down the lot that your coat was still inside.
So you turned around.
That was all; a forgotten coat, a stupid, normal thing, and you would have been in and out in seconds if not for your name cutting through the noise in the squawk as you heard Steve mention you to Robin.
You shouldn’t have listened, you knew that. You were raised better than to hover at doors and steal pieces of conversations that weren’t yours to hear, but your body didn’t listen to reason anymore.
Your feet stayed planted, your lungs forgot how to work as panic washed over you so fast and so violently that for a second you weren’t in Hawkins at all.
You were back in the Upside Down.
Back in that choking red sky, where the air is thick and cold. You could feel all over again the vines slick and alive under your hands as you ran, heart tearing itself apart inside your chest.
You could still feel the demobats, the weight of them, the wet snap of their wings, the sound of flesh ripping, the blood, so much blood, everywhere you looked there was bloodbloodbloodbloodblood—
—the combined screams of yours and Eddie’s. You remembered the way his body had gone still, the way Steve had dragged your bloodied body away as your entire abdomen was ripped apart, shaking so badly you couldn’t even scream.
You remember the way you’d thought you were going to die there with your throat ripped open and your bones scattered across that fucked-up place.
You hadn’t felt safe since.
Four months, five months? however long it had been, it didn’t matter. Fear had latched onto you like a parasite and refused to let go.
Everything startled you now, doors, clocks, cold air on your neck, cars backfiring, footsteps too close behind you. The world felt like a nightmare, and the night was only much worse.
Steve was the only place that didn’t feel like that.
Steve made it quiet. Steve made it stop.
You hadn’t even realized you’d started clinging until it was already done, until your body had decided he was shelter, that he was protection, that if he was near then nothing could touch you.
And now you were standing outside a door, listening to him talk about you.
“I don’t know, Robin,” he says again, voice rough and worn down, like he’s been chewing on the same thought for weeks and it’s finally gone bloody. “She’s just… different. Ever since.”
Robin leans back against the counter, arms crossed, watching him carefully. “Yeah,” she says, slow and measured. “No shit. She went to literal hell, Steve.”
“I know that,” he snaps too fast, immediately regretting the edge in his voice. He exhales, drags a hand down his face. “I know. I do. That’s the problem. I know, and I still feel like shit about how I feel.”
She waits. Robin’s good at that. At letting him talk himself into the truth.
“It’s like,” he starts again, quieter but faster, words tumbling over each other now, “she’s everywhere. All the time. Wherever I go, she’s already there or tryin’ to be. If I grab my keys, suddenly she needs to leave too. If I’m sittin’ down, she’s sittin’ down. If I say I’m tired, she’s tired. It’s like she can’t exist unless I’m right next to her.”
Your stomach drops where you stand, frozen just outside the door, fingers clenched tight around the strap of your bag.
“I’m serious,” Steve keeps going, oblivious, frustration bleeding through every word. “If I’m goin’ to see Dustin, she’s got a reason to come. If I’m headin’ to the Squawk, somehow we’re paired up for drills again. She doesn’t do anything alone, Robin. Never. She’s just… latched onto me.”
He laughs humorless. “And I sound like a dick sayin’ it, I know I do, but it’s fuckin’ suffocating.”
Suffocating. Like he’s drowning because of you.
Robin doesn’t answer right away. When she finally speaks, her voice is softer, more careful. “Steve. That’s not weird, matter of fact it's a normal response given what she's been through. That’s her brain trying to keep her alive.”
“I know,” he says, rubbing at his neck like it physically hurts to admit it. “I know she’s not doing it on purpose.”
“She nearly died,” Robin presses. “She watched Eddie die right in front of her. She got dragged into the Upside Down and came back with scars all over her body. She wakes up screaming, Steve. You’re the only thing that makes her feel safe.”
“I didn’t say she was the bad guy,” he snaps, voice cracking despite himself. “I’m just sayin’ I’m overwhelmed. She’s so clingy, Robin. You saw her tonight. She didn’t wanna leave without me. I had to practically beg her to go first.”
Your vision blurs. You press a hand to your mouth, swallowing hard.
“It’s like I gotta make up excuses just to be alone,” he admits, quieter now, stripped bare. “I need space. I need to breathe. And I can’t say that without soundin’ like a heartless asshole because yeah, she’s traumatized, and then suddenly I’m the villain for wantin’ five goddamn minutes to myself.”
Robin scoffs, pushing off the counter. “Steve, you idiot. You said it yourself. Your girlfriend is traumatized.”
“Yeah,” he shoots back, voice rising, “but how the hell do I tell my traumatized girlfriend to back off without destroyin’ her. How do I say ‘hey, I love you, but you’re smotherin’ me,’ and not absolutely fuck her up more than she already is.”
“You don’t call her clingy,” Robin says immediately. “For starters. That word is banned and most girls, including Vickie, hate it.”
Steve lets out a short, bitter laugh. “Well, she is.”
Robin gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “Oh nooo,” she mocks, voice high and obnoxious. “I’m Steve Harrington and my girlfriend loves me so much. Oh noooo, she feels safe with me. My life is helllll.”
“Shut up,” Steve mutters, shoving her shoulder.
“Oww, you asshole!” Robin shoots back, swatting him in return, then sobers as she gets all serious again. “You’re not wrong for being tired. You are wrong for talking about her like she’s a burden.”
Steve goes still. “I don’t think she’s a burden,” he says quietly, and this time it sounds like the truth. “I just… I don’t wanna be the only thing keepin’ her together. What happens if I fuck up? What happens if I leave?”
Robin sighs. “Then you talk to her. You communicate, dingus.”
You step back before they can see you, heart pounding, every word replaying in your head on a brutal loop. Suffocating. Clingy. Everywhere.
You don’t grab your coat when you leave.
You don’t even realize you’re driving until you’re already halfway home, knuckles white on the steering wheel as every memory crashes into you at once. Begging him to stay while you showered because you were convinced something would crawl out of the drain. Nights you woke up screaming, clinging to his shirt like it was the only safe place left in the world. Training days for the crawl where you stuck close, too afraid to be alone, grateful when you were paired with him again.
You could see it all, every single little thing you had leaned on him for, flashing through your mind like some god-awful horror slideshow.
Steve’s words had been like a bucket of ice water dumped on you, shocking you into clarity whether you wanted it or not.
Maybe you had been too sensitive. Maybe you had been unbearable. Maybe you had been so clingy that it wasn’t fair for him, and maybe you needed to let go, at least a little.
It wasn’t as if you had been the only one stuck in the Upside Down. Will had survived a week in that hell, seen things that should have ripped him apart, and yet he had come back and carried himself with a strength you couldn’t even muster.
Dustin had lost Eddie too, but he hadn’t latched onto anyone, hadn’t made himself a burden. Eleven had been tortured, exploited, experimented on, broken in ways that should have left her crushed, and yet she still managed to find herself amidst everything, to stand and breathe and continue on.
And here you were, the only one who seemed incapable of moving past it, of finding even a fragment of independence, still tethered to Steve as if without him you would fall apart.
Somehow, without realizing it, you had arrived at your shared home with Steve, parked your car in the driveway, and walked inside on autopilot, your body carrying you through familiar motions while your mind carried the full weight of guilt, shame, and heartbreak.
You stripped off your clothes in the bathroom, letting the water hit your skin in a rhythm you used to find comfort in, and prepared some dinner. You heated up leftovers, the smell of food filling the kitchen like it always had, but this time there was no laughter, no shared commentary on who had eaten what, no teasing Steve about his obsession with ketchup.
By the time Steve arrived, the house was quiet. You were already in bed, tucked under the covers, something you hadn’t done alone in months because for months you hadn’t slept unless his arms were wrapped around you.
But tonight, the house felt empty, and he found himself standing in the kitchen, fork in hand, staring at the warm meal you had prepared for him, and realizing that for the first time in an eternity, you weren’t waiting for him.
The next morning only deepened the silence. Steve woke to an empty bed, the sunlight spilling across rumpled sheets that smelled faintly of your perfume, and felt a prickling, cold panic he couldn’t name at first.
You were already dressed, shoes on, ready to leave.
“Where are you heading?” he asked, voice rough.
“Going to get some stuff from the store,” you replied dryly.
“Want me to come with you, sweetheart?” His words carried that familiar gentleness, but you couldn’t look past it without feeling like a burden.
“No,” you said simply.
It was such a small, simple word. It shouldn’t feel like this. Except it made Steve sit in bed alone, blood running cold, realizing far too late that you were beginning to avoid him.
You leave early and don’t come back until the sky is already dimming, the house dark except for the kitchen light that Steve has turned on and off three times now like it might summon you home faster.
By the time you unlock the front door, he has been pacing a groove into the living room carpet, heart in his throat, mind running through every worst case scenario he promised himself he wouldn’t think about anymore. The second the lock clicks and the door opens, he’s there, crowding your space before you can even hang up your coat.
“Where the hell were you?!” he blurts, voice tight and frantic, eyes scanning you like he’s checking for blood. “You’ve been outta the house for nearly six hours. Six. I was losin’ my goddamn mind. I thought somethin’ happened to you.”
You sigh, slow and tired, and for a split second when you really look at him, at the pure unfiltered worry etched into his face, you almost break.
Almost step into his arms, almost let yourself melt into him and admit how badly you missed him, how those six hours felt like six days without his voice or his hands or the steady reassurance of his presence.
If six hours did this to him, then the space you were forcing had been tearing you apart twice as badly.
But then your brain betrays you, replays his words in his voice, clingy, suffocating, always there, and you harden.
“I was out, Steve,” you say quietly.
“Yeah, no shit,” he fires back, following you as you walk toward the kitchen. “Out where?”
You open the fridge, more for something to do than because you’re hungry, and shrug. “With Nancy. We hung out and I accidentally lost track of time.”
The tension drains out of him immediately, shoulders sagging in relief. “Jesus,” he breathes. “Why didn’t you tell me, huh? I was freakin’ out. Is everything okay? Did somethin’ happen?”
You shake your head. “No, nothing happened, don’t worry.”
He nods quickly, like he’s trying not to push. “Okay. Okay. I won’t pry.” He hesitates, then softens. “Hey, I was thinkin’ dinner. You want lasagna or pizza?”
“I’m not hungry,” you say, already turning away. “I’m gonna go sleep, okay.”
He frowns. “But I thought we could just hang out a little, I mean we barely saw each other toda—”
“Maybe another time, alright? Goodnight, Steve.”
He exhales, defeated. “Goodnight,” he says softly. “I love you.”
You pause just long enough to whisper it back before disappearing down the hall. “I love you too,”
The days after are worse.
Steve wakes up and barely gets a word in before you’re already pulling on shoes, mumbling something about a jog. If he waits, you need a shower. If he waits longer, you’re late to see your nana.
If he suggests the Squawk, you’re already going with Nancy. It’s like every time he reaches out, you slip through his fingers a little more, like trying to grasp smoke.
Not long ago, you haunted him with your presence. You were everywhere, constant, inescapable, but now you ghost him with your absence. He doesn’t know where you go or what you do, only that the house feels emptier even when you’re technically still there.
That’s how he ends up sitting on the edge of the bed tonight, waiting for the bathroom door to open, heart pounding like he’s bracing for bad news. When you finally step out, hair damp, towel slung over your shoulder, he looks up like he’s been holding his breath.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he says gently, like he’s testing the word to see if it still belongs to him.
You glance at him in the mirror and give him a small, careful smile. “Hi, Steve.”
He lingers there for a second, then steps closer, hands hovering before he settles them lightly at your waist, afraid you might flinch. He leans down and presses a kiss to your collarbone.
“I missed you,” he murmurs. “You’ve been out all day. Didn’t even see you at the Squawk.”
Your body betrays you before your mouth does, a shiver running through you at the sound of his voice, the warmth of him behind you. For a heartbeat you let yourself feel it, the pull, the ache. Then you pull away, just enough to break the contact, reaching for your hairbrush like it’s a shield.
“Yeah,” you say lightly. “Nancy asked me to go shopping with her again.”
“Oh.” He straightens, nodding, trying to keep his tone easy. “Was it fun? I figured you’d come back with, like, ten bags or somethin’.”
You shrug, brushing through damp hair. “Didn’t need anything.”
He watches you in the mirror, the way you won’t quite look at him, the way your answers land flat and stop short. He clears his throat as heshifts his weight.
He hesitates, then clears his throat, trying again, voice low and careful. “Uh. We trained today. Me, Hopper, and El. She shaved her time down again.”
You pause only briefly, tugging at your hair with the brush.
“Thirty-three seconds,” he continues, a little brighter despite himself. “Last week it was thirty-six. She’s pissed about it too, which I guess is good. Means she knows she can do better.”
“That’s good,” you say quietly.
He nods, even though you’re not looking at him. “Yeah. She’s gettin’ scary strong again. In a good way.”
“Mhm.”
Steve frowns. He leans back on his hands, searching your face even though you’re facing away now. “We could all hang out this weekend. Just us, or maybe the kids too. Whatever you want. Thought it might be nice.”
“I’m actually quite tired,” you say quietly.
“Okay,” he says quickly. “Yeah. That’s fine. We don’t have to do anything big.” He pauses, then softly asks. “Hey. Are you okay? Like, really okay?”
You swallow. “I’m fine, Steve.”
There’s a beat of silence where he clearly wants to say more as his mouth opens and closes like he’s rearranging words that never come out right.
He tries again, desperate now. “Did I do somethin’? Because if I did, I swear I’m not tryin’ to mess this up. I just need you to talk to me, okay.”
Your chest tightens. You squeeze your eyes shut.
“Steve,” you say softly, cutting him off before he can dig himself deeper, “can you turn off the light, please?”
He gets the hint; you don’t want to talk.
He freezes for a second, then nods once. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”
He stands, reaches for the lamp, and the room falls into darkness. He lingers there for a moment longer, like he’s hoping you’ll turn back around, say his name, give him something to hold onto.
You don’t.
“Night,” he says quietly.
“Night,” you reply, barely audible.
He lies down beside you, careful not to touch, staring up at the ceiling with the awful, sinking realization that this is what losing you looks like..
As the days passed, then quietly turned into weeks, you built a new routine that did not include Steve in it at all. It happened slowly enough that it almost felt reasonable at first.
You learned how to time your mornings so you were out the door before he woke up, learned how to come home late enough that conversation felt unnecessary, learned how to smile just enough to keep him from asking questions that you did not have the strength to answer.
Avoiding him became second nature. Lying became easy.
You spent most of your days outside, anywhere that was not the house and not around him. Sometimes you sat beside your nana’s hospital bed for hours, holding her hand and watching the rise and fall of her chest just to remind yourself that people stayed alive even when everything went wrong.
Other days you walked until your legs ached, wandering neighborhoods you barely recognized, letting exhaustion drown out thought. Occasionally you called a friend, anyone who would answer, and let the hours blur together in cafes and parking lots and friendly conversations that never went anywhere deep enough to hurt.
It got to the point where you could not remember the last time you had kissed him without forcing yourself to think about it, and when you did, the number made your stomach twist. Four days. Four whole days since his mouth had been on yours, since his hands had found your waist without asking, since you had slept tangled together instead of inches apart.
There was a time when five minutes apart felt unbearable, when you haunted each other in hallways and kitchens and doorways, hands always reaching, always searching.
You grew used to the distance.
Steve though, did not.
His patience thinned in ways that showed. It did not help that things with Dustin were already strained. Steve started snapping again and retreating into old habits he thought he had outgrown.
He tried to pull himself back every time he felt it happening, tried to reach for you like he always had.
And every time he did, you stepped further away.
That was how he found himself one late afternoon sitting on the couch, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the front door.
You had been gone all day again, supposedly with Nancy, doing whatever it was you told him you were doing now.
Steve knew you were close to her, knew you trusted her, but not to the point where you would spend hours every other day together. Still, he told himself not to judge. Girls were odd in their friendships, and he did not want to be the guy who questioned everything.
But his mind would not shut up.
Every instinct in him was screaming that something was wrong, that he needed to do something instead of sitting there waiting. He was snapped out of his thoughts when the doorbell rang.
Steve was on his feet instantly, relief and fear colliding in his chest as he rushed to the door. He yanked it open, already ready to say your name.
Instead, Nancy Wheeler stood there.
For a split second, his brain refused to process it. Then panic slammed into him so hard it stole the air from his lungs. If you were supposed to be with Nancy, then why is she standing here alone?
“Where is she?” he blurted out, voice sharp and scared. “Is she okay? What happened?”
Nancy blinked in shock at his reaction, taking in the way his shoulders were tight, the way his hands were already shaking like he’d been holding himself together by sheer force of will. “Whoa, Steve, hey,” she said quickly. “Slow down. What’s going on?”
“What,” he shot back, breath uneven, eyes already scanning the driveway behind her like you might suddenly appear. “Where’s she? Why are you here without her, Nancy?”
Nancy frowned. “Without who?”
“Y/N,” he snapped, panic bleeding into anger because fear always did that to him. “I’m talking about Y/N.”
Her expression shifted immediately. “Yeah,” she said slowly, “that’s actually why I’m here. I haven’t heard from her in weeks. I just wanted to check in.”
The words hit him like a punch straight to the chest.
“What do you mean you haven’t heard from her?” he said, quieter now, like saying it louder might make it real. “You were literally together today?”
Nancy let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Steve, no. I’ve been with Jonathan all day. He’s waiting in the car right now. I just stopped by because I was worried about her.”
The color drained from his face so fast it scared her.
“Steve,” she said carefully, stepping closer, “you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”
He swallowed hard, throat tight like it was closing in on itself. “She’s been telling me she’s with you,” he said. “Every time she’s gone. She says she’s with you.”
Nancy stared at him. “Why would she lie about that?”
“I don’t know,” he said, voice cracking despite how hard he tried to keep it together. “That’s the thing, Nance, I don’t know. One day she was everywhere. Everywhere. I couldn’t turn around without her being there, couldn’t breathe without feelin’ her next to me, and then suddenly it’s like she vanished. We didn’t fight. I–i didn't do anything. At least not that I remember.”
Nancy sighed, rubbing her forehead, her tone firm but not unkind. “Steve. You don’t just wake up one day like that. Something must've happened.”
“No, no, no” he said immediately, shaking his head. “No, I would know. I would remember if I fucked up that bad.”
“And you didn’t think to ask her?” Nancy pressed.
“I did,” he snapped. “I tried. Every time I tried she’d shut it down, say she was tired or busy or fine. What the hell was I supposed to do, corner her?”
“She was clingy, okay. I’ll say it. I couldn’t go anywhere without her, couldn’t get a second alone, and then suddenly it’s like she was gone.”
Nancy’s head snapped up. “Don’t,” she said sharply.
“What?” he shot back.
“You do not call her clingy, Steve!” Nancy said, anger flaring now. “You don’t get to use that word with Y/N out of all people!”
He bristled. “Oh come on, Nancy. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yeah, you did,” she said. “And even if you didn’t, it doesn’t matter. In case you’ve forgotten, Harrington, we’re all wrapped up in this upside down bullshit because we have to be. I do it because of Mike and Barb. You do it because of Dustin. Guess what? She doesn’t have to be involved in it!”
Steve opened his mouth, then stopped.
“That girl is fucking traumatized, and she went through that shit because you dragged her into it!” Nancy continued, voice steady but fierce.
“She nearly died. She was attacked by monsters that shouldn’t exist. She watched Eddie die just like the rest of us, and she doesn’t get to talk about it with anyone outside this circle. She can’t go to her friends or her family and say, ‘hey, I got slimed by an interdimensional monster and almost got ripped apart.’ The only person she feels safe enough to lean on is you!”
His jaw tightened, guilt creeping in through the cracks.
“So yeah,” Nancy went on, “maybe she leaned too hard or she didn’t know how to be alone after that. But that doesn’t make her clingy, Steve. That makes her scared.”
He dragged a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“I know,” Nancy said. “But intent doesn’t erase impact. Something you said or did made her feel like she was too much, like she was a burden, and instead of yelling or crying she did the only thing she could think to do. She disappeared.”
Steve let out a shaky breath. “She’s been lying to me, Nancy.”
“She’s protecting herself,” Nancy said. “You need to see things in her light”
Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.
“So what,” he said finally, voice raw. “What if she’s just… done? What if she realized she doesn’t need me?”
Nancy softened then, stepping closer. “Steve. She needs you. She just doesn’t think she’s allowed to anymore. And that’s on you to fix.”
He looked at her, eyes glassy. “How?”
“You talk to her,” Nancy said simply. “Really talk. Don't accuse her or get defensive. Listen to her.”
She glanced back toward the driveway. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and check on her too, okay? But you can’t let this sit. Whatever’s going on, it’s clearly eating both of you alive.”
Steve nodded faintly, chest aching. “Yeah.”
Nancy opened the door, then paused. “And Steve.”
“Yeah?”
“Snap out of it,” she said firmly. “Before you lose her for real.”
With that, she left, heading back toward Jonathan’s car, while Steve stood alone in the doorway.
Ironically, barely ten minutes after Nancy and Jonathan pulled out of the driveway, you came home.
The house was dark. Too dark.
Your stomach dropped immediately, panic flaring hot and fast as you stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. No lights. No TV. No noise.
For a split second, every worst-case scenario you’d trained yourself not to think about came crashing in all at once.
“Steve?” you called out, voice tight.
Footsteps shuffled, and then he appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, lit only by the faint glow from the stove light.
“Hey,” he said, like nothing in the world was wrong.
You froze for half a beat. “Oh. Hi.”
There was something awkward in the air instantly, like you’d both stepped into the same room carrying entirely different weights. He leaned against the counter, trying to look casual.
“How was your day?” he asked.
You shrugged, slipping your shoes off. “It was… alright.”
His eyes drifted to the bag clutched in your hand, the crinkled plastic catching his attention. “What’s that?”
“Oh,” you said quickly, glancing down at it. “I stopped by the pharmacy to get the cream. For, uh… you know. The scarring.”
He nodded, softer now. “That’s good.”
Neither of you said anything else as you walked down the hall together. The bedroom felt smaller than usual as Steve sat on the edge of the bed while you set the bag down.
“Um,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you want me to help you apply it?”
You hesitated for a second. Then you nodded and handed him the bag.
He unsealed the ointment while you slipped your shirt off and sat cross-legged on the floor, your back to him. You were suddenly acutely aware of every scar—deep, jagged reminders carved across your back and abdomen from the demogorgon attack. Old wounds, but never really gone.
Steve didn’t react the way you always feared people might. He never did.
His hands were warm as he scooped some of the cream, spreading it carefully across your skin gently. He worked it into your shoulders, thumbs pressing lightly as he massaged your shoulders.
You let yourself breathe.
He kept going until he was done, smoothing the last of it in with quiet focus. As you started to shift, ready to stand and pull your shirt back on, you felt it—
Two soft kisses. One pressed over each long scar crossing your back.
Your heart kicked hard against your ribs.
You stood quickly, sliding your shirt back on, suddenly unsure what to do with all the space between you. You were halfway to the door when his voice stopped you.
“Uhm, Y/n.”
You turned. “Yeah?”
He reached out, fingers wrapping gently around your hand, and tugged you a step closer. “Can we talk?”
He keeps hold of your hand when you hesitate.
“Talk about what?” you ask quietly.
Steve doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat of him, the familiar gravity that’s always pulled you in whether you wanted it to or not. His hand tightens around yours like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.
“I know I’ve been shitty,” he says again, like repeating it might finally make it land where it needs to. His voice is low and rough, scraped raw by guilt. “I know I’ve been so far away from you. I know you felt it. I saw it, even when I pretended I didn’t.” He swallows hard.
“And I know you’re going through things—things I can’t even fully understand—and I hate that instead of being the person you could come to, the person who made it easier, I—”
He cuts himself off with a sharp breath, hand lifting to his face like he can physically stop the words from spilling.
Your chest tightens so painfully it almost steals your breath.
“I panicked,” he rushes on, panic bleeding straight through his words now. “I didn’t know how to handle it. Knowing someone was dependent on me, really dependent on me, not just for rides or babysitting or stupid shit like that, but emotionally.” His voice wavers. “I thought I was gonna screw it up. Thought I already was screwing it up. And instead of dealing with that like an adult, I freaked out.”
He laughs once, sharp and broken. “God, I thought I needed space. I thought if I pulled back, things would calm down, that we’d both breathe easier. But fuck—” His voice cracks hard on the word. “This is so much worse. You being gone is so much worse than you being everywhere. I’d give anything to have you hovering around me again, asking if I’m okay, touching my arm, sittin’ too close on the couch.”
He steps closer, hands shaking as they come up to your sides.
“Please,” he whispers, forehead nearly brushing yours now, eyes glossy and wrecked. “Please, sweetheart. Don’t stop being dependent on me. Don’t stop needing me. Don’t stop loving me.”
Your breath stutters, a broken sound caught somewhere between your chest and your throat.
“I need you to need me,” he says, the words spilling faster, desperate and unfiltered. “I didn’t realize it until you pulled away, but I do. I need it. I need you. Because I can’t do this anymore. I can’t wake up every day wondering if you’re okay and knowing it’s my fault you don’t tell me.” His voice drops to a whisper.
“I can’t do this without you.”
That’s when you break.
The sob tears out of you violently, ripping through your chest like something finally gave way. Your knees nearly buckle as you fold into him, crying so hard your body shakes, hiccups jerking through each breath.
Steve reacts instantly, arms wrapping around you tight, crushing you to his chest like if he lets go you’ll disappear for real this time.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs into your hair, voice breaking completely now. “I’m so sorry. Fuck—fuck, baby, don’t cry. Please don’t cry.”
His hand moves up and down your back in slow, steady motions, grounding and familiar, his chin pressing into your hair. You cry into his shirt until it’s damp, until your throat burns and your lungs ache and you feel wrung out and hollow.
Eventually, trembling, you pull back just enough to look at him.
“I heard you, Steve,” you say, the words tripping over themselves.
He freezes. “You… heard what?”
Your hands curl into fists at your sides, nails biting into your palms like you deserve the sting. “A few weeks ago. At the station. I left early and forgot my coat.” Your voice wobbles badly now. “I came back, and I heard you.”
The color drains from his face so fast it scares you.
“You were talking to Robin,” you continue, tears spilling again. “You said I was clingy. You said I was suffocating you.”
“Oh—no,” he breathes, panic exploding across his features. “No, no, no, baby, please—”
“I didn’t mean to be,” you sob. “I swear I didn’t. I wasn’t trying to trap you or make you feel stuck. I just—” Your breath breaks, the words barely making it out. “I only felt safe with you. And everyone else was doing okay. Everyone. And I wasn’t. I was falling apart and I didn’t know how to move on from everything that happened.”
You swallow hard, voice dropping to something small and raw. “And somewhere along the way, it started to feel like you weren’t loving me anymore.”
Your eyes lift to his, shining. “It felt like you were just… tolerating it. Tolerating me.”
Steve’s hands come up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing your tears away like each one physically hurts him.
“Baby,” he says fiercely, voice shaking as his arms tighten around you. “You can cling to me as tight as you want and as long as you want. I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to pull away to protect me.”
His voice drops, thick and aching, the words pressed straight into your hair. “I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much it scares me, and instead of owning that, I ran my mouth and said somethin’ stupid and careless. And I hate that it hurt you. I hate that I made you feel like you were too much when all you ever were was… you.”
He presses his forehead to yours, breath shaky. “You were never suffocating me. I was just scared of how much I needed you back.”
You search his face, eyes swollen, chest still hitching with quiet aftershocks of sobs. He looks wrecked and earnest and painfully open, like every wall he’s ever built has finally come down.
“It’s okay, Steve,” you whisper, even though the words wobble on the way out, even though they don’t quite feel solid yet.
He shakes his head immediately, curls bouncing with the movement. “It’s not. It’s really not.” His hands slide up your back, holding you close. “But we’re gonna fix it, okay? I will fix it. I promise. I don’t care how long it takes.”
His forehead presses against yours again, like he’s grounding himself. “Just… don’t pull away from me ever again.”
You nod, slow but sure, arms wrapping around him fully now as you bury your face into his chest. He holds you like he means it this time, rocking you gently, big hands warm and steady like they’re reminding you that he’s real, that he’s here.
You breathe him in.
And then—
Grrrgrgrgrgrgr.
You freeze for half a second.
Then you pull back just enough to look up at him, eyes still wet, face scrunched, and you burst out laughing—broken, hiccupy laughter that comes out of you mid-cry.
“Are you—” you sniff, laughing harder, “—are you hungry?”
Steve’s face goes bright red.
“I—” he stammers, mortified. “I was gonna wait for you to come back, okay? I didn’t wanna eat without you.”
That just makes you laugh more. You press your face back into his chest, shoulders shaking, and he lets out a breathy laugh too, embarrassed but relieved, his arms tightening around you again.
“God,” he mutters. “Timing, huh.”
You tilt your head up and kiss him. He kisses you back immediately, like he’s been starving for it just as much as food. When you pull away, barely an inch, he leans in again and kisses you harder this time and deeper, pouring everything unsaid into it.
He breaks the kiss with a breathless laugh, forehead resting against yours. “Missed kissing you.”
You smile. “Me too.”
He exhales, then straightens suddenly like he’s had an epiphany. “You know what?”
“What?” you ask.
“I am starving,” he says, dead serious. “And I’m pretty sure you are too.”
You blink. “Steve—”
“Come on,” he says, already grabbing your hand and tugging you gently toward the door. “Grab a coat.”
“Wait,” you laugh, stumbling after him. “Where are we even going?”
He grins over his shoulder, that familiar boyish smile you fell in love with. “Enzo’s.”
Your eyes widen. “What? No, Steve, that place is expensive. And you need a reservation and— I can just heat something up, it’s fine—”
“Nope,” he cuts in immediately. “Absolutely not.”
“Steve—”
“I gotta spend the next year or so making it up to you,” he says, squeezing your hand. “Minimum.”
You gape at him. “But—”
“Too late,” he says cheerfully, already opening the door.
You stumble as he leads you out to the car, the night air cool against your skin. He opens your door for you like always, and excitedly smiles at you. As the engine starts and the house disappears in the rearview mirror, you lean back in your seat, heart full and sore and warm all at once.
Deep down, you know it again: Steve will stay by your side. He’ll wait while you heal. He’ll hold you steady until you’re strong enough to take steps on your own.
And Steve knows, wholeheartedly, that he’ll be the one clinging to you just as tightly. Because you’re the only one he’s ever loved enough to spill his heart to.
And, apparently, spend three hundred and ninety dollars on at some fancy restaurant without even blinking.
Thank god for the HEATED RIVALRY fandom because I have not had anything remotely resembling peace of mind since the show started and the only thing that's keeping me lilypad hopping over the deep lake of Losing My Fucking Mind About These Characters has been the incredible fic being put out. So here's some more way-too-long-post to shove fic at people and screaming in a truly ridiculous way about how this is the best insane thing to happen to me in awhile.
HEATED RIVALRY - NO I WON’T BE CHILL ABOUT THE GAY HOCKEY PLAYERS SHOW:
Hall Pass by hideeho, ilya/shane, 1.3k
"Tell me, Hollander, who is your hall pass?" In which Ilya asks a question and is completely chill and not at all irrational about Shane's response.
lines of lightning by moonsock, ilya/shane & centaurs, NSFW, 13.8k
The road to the Stanley Cup is fraught with expectations, injuries, and worst of all, conversations about feelings.
ask anything of me (except to leave you). by Joooceee, ilya/shane & centaurs, 6k
“Ilya,” he said, the name escaping like an exhale. He had so much to say. So many things that needed fixing. So many apologies he owed him. “Shane, please-“ “I’ll go.” “Yes. Thank you.” “No - not… not to Montreal. To the party. If you’ll still have me.“
not-so-boring shane hollander by moonysbookshelf, ilya/shane & hayden & scott, nsfw, 2.5k
Ilya wants to know what Scott Hunter said, but mostly he just wants to get on Shane's nerves lol.
The Ottawa Centaurs Relationship Chart by leialoo7, ilya/shane & centaurs, NSFW, 2.4k
Shane and Ilya are thrilled to be on the same team this year but can't resist a little on-ice fighting. The team is very concerned.
leave your marks by theoneiam2277, ilya/shane, NSFW, 3.3k
"You marked me today," he says. It's calm, a statement, but Shane backs up a step, heart hammering in his chest. Ilya is at his most dangerous when he's still, and Shane knows his partner - he will not fucking call him a lover - well enough to sense a devious idea brewing under the surface. One that will likely leave Shane equally turned on and embarrassed. He can't help but mouth off, though. "Yeah. What are you going to do about it, Rozanov?"
The Love Toe by BluishFrog, ilya/shane & centaurs, 1.6k
Ilya insists his broken toe counts as sex injury. Shane disagrees both with that statement, and even more with Ilya proudly telling their whole team about it. or: how a broken toe establishes itself as symbol of love.
The Last Boston Year by GlitterCity, ilya/shane & scott, 15k wip
“So,” Shane said, after another minute. “Welcome to Montreal.” Ilya just started laughing, his body shaking against Shane’s. “Do not tell me you prepare for all your home games this way,” he said. “I shouldn’t have prepared for any home games this way,” Shane said, glancing at the clock by the bed. He should go, but he couldn’t make himself.
in love with everything that you do by evilrussianprincess, ilya/shane, NSFW, 3.2k
OR - Ilya is a little too happy when he sees Shane get into a fight with Scott Hunter on live TV. He's maybe a bit turned on, too.
A Study in Devotion by ThePromptWasntThisLong (shredded_potato), ilya/shane, NSFW, 3.1k
Shane, prickling with insecurity after seeing paparazzi photos of Ilya with an ex, tries to pick a fight. Ilya disarms him completely by sitting in an armchair and calmly ordering, “On your knees.” When Shane hesitates, Ilya adds, “You want to prove you’re better than a memory? Show me.”
1410 by Emigma62, ilya/shane & centaurs, nsfw, 1.2k
There was no way. Absolutely no way. The universe was a cruel mistress and there was no way Shane was spending the night with Ilya in room 1410 in this hotel and still being fit to play tomorrow.
the same damn hunger by butterflylungs, ilya/shane, NSFW, 3.1k
Ilya’s eyes drag over him, starting from his head, to his jersey-clad upper body, down to his bare thighs. He’s not wearing any underwear, but the shirt is long enough to hide it. Ilya’s gaze darkens ravenously as he lets his gym bag slip from his shoulder to the floor with a dull thud. His eyes travel up again, catching on the number stamped on the arm of jersey, the C on the front. “What’s this?” he questions.
no handlebars by redsuns, ilya/shane, NSFW, 1.9k
“You are so impatient,” Rozanov says. “Could not wait for me to finish my workout. Come here.”
Own goals by isevsianne, ilya/shane, NSFW, 7.5k
“Funny morning, you know,” Ilya says in Shane’s voice, and that’s strange, too. “Woke up in this bed with too many pillows in a very boring place and discovered my dick not as big as last night. Then I remembered Canada’s favorite hockey player Shane Hollander texting me last night, wish you were here and I think the hockey gods don’t care about anyone but Shane fucking Hollander, because now I am here, yes?” “Look,” Shane replies sharply. “This is not my fault.”
2886 Beacon by anyarozanov (anaphoricae), ilya/shane, NSFW, 4.5k
"What’s a girl to do on a lonely night in Montreal?" Shane shouldn’t answer his text now. He wouldn’t. He had been strong enough to walk away on that rooftop, and he would be strong enough to do it now. He wasn’t mad anymore, but he wasn’t about to make the same mistake either.
Fanning the Flames by cjr2, ilya/shane & farah & cast, NSFW, 16.9k
The Voyageurs ask Shane to join FanMail in order to foster a better connection with fans. Internet sleuths start to notice some interesting details in the background of Shane’s videos, and then the internet does...what the internet does. Or Shane and Ilya are granted an opportunity to come out on their own terms. Sort of. And in they do it in a very Ilya way. (Surprisingly, it is Shane’s idea)
For Worse, For Fever by nj_1996, ilya/shane, 9.3k
Shane survives the world’s worst flu and thinks the nightmare is over. It is not. Because now Ilya is sick.
at the top of the mohs scale by Anonymous, ilya/shane & rose & svetlana & centaurs, NSFW, pregnant!shane, 19.6k wip
Shane let out a put-upon sigh and stepped into Terry's office, closing the door behind him. “So, I was really nauseous this morning. Threw up a little. And Ilya is making me come talk to you about it.” Terry quirked an eyebrow at him. “Husband Ilya or Captain Rozanov?” “Both.” “Oof.” Terry gestured at him to take a seat. “You sure you’re not dying, bud?"
good by alopias, ilya/shane, NSFW, 4.8k
He sends a message without fully thinking it through, are you disappointed in me? No. Comes through immediately. I told you, good game to watch. It makes me happy to see you lose once in a while. I think you need to be brought down a notch.
is it casual now? by zeppelin (transgenicveins), ilya/shane, NSFW, 3k
Ilya steels himself. He thinks of running around Moskva River, obsessed with Shane Hollander and the sad look on his face, and knows if he doesn’t ask it’ll gnaw at him like a dog with a bone. “Hollander,” he starts. “Shane,” Shane corrects, a little bratty, and Ilya’s helpless. He fucking smiles back. “Shane,” he continues firmly, “listen, about Vegas—”
unkissed by miharaikko, ilya/shane, NSFW, 4k
“Goodbye, Hollander,” is all he can say. Ilya hears the door click shut. It didn’t even slam. It closed softly. Almost makes it worse. A few words and a soft click, and Hollander is gone. “Fuuuck,” Ilya groans, teeth almost biting into the filter of his cigarette. We didn’t even kiss, Ilya thinks as he lets his head fall back against the headboard.
What You Want From Me by Erisenyo, ilya/shane, NSFW, 3.9k
“Say it,” Ilya pushes, because he still has not learned to walk away. He grabs the spread of Hollander’s ribs, suddenly desperate to paint over the last six months and Sochi and longer with something uncomplicated and easy, and this thing with Hollander will never be that— “Yes, please, yes,” Hollander says, practically shoving into his hands. “I want you to. Lift me up on this counter, Rozanov, do it, please.” —but Ilya has always been weak for the way Hollander is so easy for him.
I would die for you in secret by nerdie, ilya/shane & cast, pregnant!shane, 3.8k
It was, quite possibly, the worst thing that had ever happened to Shane. Two lines stared up at him from the pregnancy test. And the other pregnancy test, too. And the fancy test that actually spelled out the word pregnant. Ilya fucking Rozanov had knocked him.
Ilya's 2014 Stanley Cup Celebration by wilmonstan12345, ilya/shane, NSFW, 2.6k
About a month after Las Vegas, Ilya has his day with the Stanley Cup. He texts Shane to fly to Boston and celebrate with him, and they have angsty sex with the Cup in the room.
Boston Hospitality by SuburbanSun, ilya/shane, 1.7k
Lily: But I need to swipe a key to get up to your floor Lily: Don’t suppose you left one for “Lily” at the front desk? Lily: Or else you’ll just have to come downstairs and get me
Tethered/Untethered by WhatTheBodyGraspsNot, ilya/shane, nsfw, 4k
Shane feels wrong. Off. It’s their last night at the hotel and he should be out with his teammates but he can’t move. Can’t think of anything but the keycard on his dresser and the pull to that room three stories up. He and Ilya have fucked plenty this week. That’s not what this is. Shane needs something else.
Lingua Russia by GrendelsMother, ilya/shane & ocs & voyageurs, 16.9k
“That’s wild, man. That is just weird.” Yannic paused. “You really think someone speaks Russian but is hiding it from you and just using it to do nice things for you?” “Well, that is the question. Why would anyone do that? Why not just say they speak Russian?” Rodion had been wondering this all morning.
the longer way home by boxysmiles, ilya/shane, 6.3k
The plane—Ilya’s plane—is diverting to the closest airport. Shane's next breath doesn't quite make it to his lungs. Suddenly, he is a few years in the past, hearing J.J's voice: "Woah. The Centaurs' plane had to make an emergency landing." It's not the same. It's not.
the things your lips won't say. by Skamtrash, ilya/shane, NSFW, 2.2k
shane gets jealous seeing ilya kiss someone else. when he confronts him in his hotel room, ilya shows him why there's no reason to be.
I Could Love You 'Til All the Polaroids Fade by verbaepulchellae, ilya/shane & cast, NSFW, 9.5k
Shane's working on letting go of the control that's kept him and Ilya safe for the past ten years. The fact that he's Shane Hollander means that he's got a plan. The fact that he's with Ilya Rozanov means that plan involves fucking him stupid. And for once, Shane's kind of ready to be the one who drives Ilya out of his mind.
Exactly As You're Meant to Be by 30somethingAutisticTeacher, ilya/shane, ~1k
A conversation in bed stirs up memories, both bitter and sweet.
Belonging by PeaceLilies, ilya/shane, NSFW, 6.2k
Shane and Ilya navigate their new relationship now that they're officially a couple
Before and After Pictures by GrendelsMother, ilya/shane & troy/harris & centaurs, 3.1k
“I think what people are most interested in is whether your game—against each other—changed once you were together.” They looked at each other. Shaking their heads. It was never going to go away. But they didn’t intend to change their approach in keeping some things to themselves.
(Not) Desperate by bubbleomatic, ilya/shane, NSFW, 2k
Ilya didn’t know what was worse: knowing Hollander’s favourite ginger ale brand, or caring too much about getting his hands on a case of it. He planned to use it as leverage to convince Hollander to stay the night at his Boston penthouse. To sleep in his bed until morning.
A Boring Hockey Book by notlayingroses, ilya/shane, 2.4k
Ilya swings by a local bookstore in Edmonton to get a boring hockey book for Shane, and is delighted to get recommendations for sexy gay hockey books.
Cabane à sucre by bubbleomatic, ilya/shane & troy/harris & centaurs, 3.8k
Harris organises a team field trip to a cabane à sucre — sugar shack — to gather content for the Ottawa Centaurs’ social media. Ilya doesn’t understand why Canadians are so obsessed with maple syrup, but Shane is there to make the weird cultural experience more memorable.
They Met in the Elevator by Honeybees_n_flowers, ilya/shane & david/yuna, 1k
Following the reveal that her son has apparently been seeing Ilya Rozanov of all people for the entirety of their careers, Yuna Hollander has a realization about an interaction she once had in an elevator.
waiting right here just to show you by broccolicheddarchicken, ilya/shane, NSFW, 6.6k
The picture he must've made in that moment: naked and tied up, on his knees, untouched and hard, with Ilya down his throat, drool all over him, staring up at Ilya through his lashes. He was glad he couldn't actually see himself, it would've been too much, but he had no doubt this was a mental image Ilya would be saving forever.
Baby, you know it ain't fair by WhimperSoldier, ilya/shane & cast, NSFW, omegaverse, 9.3k
Then he gets the call from All-Stars. The catch? His captain is the obnoxiously perfect alpha Ilya Rozanov.
Road Games by leialoo7, ilya/shane & hayden, NSFW, 1.7k
Lily: Where are you? That was stupid. Rozanov definitely knew Shane had played a game in New York tonight. Shane: ? Lily: Are you at the hotel? Shane: Yeah, at the bar. Lily: Leave. Lily: Go to your room and call me.
Thanks for the Blind Date by GrendelsMother, ilya/shane & troy/harris & david/yuna & centaurs, 13k
In which Ilya and Shane announce their relationship on their own timeline, even though it gets a little accelerated by events.
Call Me Boring by burkiebeans, ilya/shane, 2k
In which Ilya thinks he is being too mean to Shane, and Shane tries to figure out why his menace of a boyfriend is suddenly a saint.
More Than All of the Days Before by learnthemusic, ilya/shane, nsfw, 6.2k wip
Ilya knows Shane's fishing; he likes to turn the tables on Ilya too. If he had any self-control, Ilya would make up a reason for why he's finally able to relax after a grueling day. Like that Marlow sent him porn again. That never fails to rile Shane up.
Shane is like: ok so I haven't slept with anyone since the last time we were together and you haven't slept with anyone since the last time we were together and we're going to spend 2 weeks in my house and I'm making you lunch and we're sleeping in the same bed and you're telling me about your mom and I'm telling you about my parents and you like me and I like you and I don't want you to marry someone else and you wish all the women you slept with were me and you will switch teams and move to my country so we can be closer to eachother and we're starting a charity to make it easier to be together and I already have our future planned because I care about this I care about us and you love me and I love you and you're kissing my ankle and you comfort me and hold me when I panic and you're meeting my parents and supporting me through it and you're drinking my dad's vodka and eating pasta at my family's house and you tell my parents that you would leave Boston for me and that I'm the only person you've ever loved. Ok great 👍
★ summary: you and steve were tangled in each other’s lives from birth, sharing scraped knees, midnight secrets, and every promise two kids could make without understanding the weight of them. as years passed, the two of you shifted with every change the years threw at you, and time kept moving the way it always does. fast and unrelenting. you could only push down the inevitable for so long before you realized all you've ever wanted has been right in front of you, all along.
★ pairing: steve harrington x reader, slight omc x reader
★ warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, cursing, canon character death, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, angst, emotional cheating, p in v, oral f recieving
★ word count: 16.2k
★ notes: this is an au where nothing supernatural happens in hawkins btw!!! i've spent soo long on this that i kinda hate it but i really hope you all enjoy! i appreciate the feedback so much <3
You had never known a life without Steve Harrington in it. From the moment you were walking, he was standing there right beside you. Your mothers were friends, often leaving you two with the same sitters. With matching sticky hands and loud babbles of nothing, you found a friend in the messy-haired boy.
Steve was there through all of life’s biggest moments. The first time you rode your bike without training wheels, losing your first baby tooth, and your first heartbreak in the fourth grade, when Adam Kelly put gum in your hair. Steve pushed him off the slide, splitting his lip open. He thought the punishment was worth it to see the smile on your face.
Similarly, you were there through his horrible prepubescent hormones, his growth spurt hitting later in life. You tripped Christy Morris after she called him short, embarrassing him in front of the class. Her accident overshadowed his embarrassment when she went crying to the office, chocolate milk staining the front of her white dress. Steve’s eyes met yours across the lunchroom, and you sent him a simple shrug. It was mindless, the urge to protect him. It went both ways. It was soon clear to everyone in Hawkins that the two of you would do anything for the other.
Steve held your hand when your dog died, letting you sob into his shoulders. He came to your house the next day, a bundle of picked dandelions in his hand. It was the first time a boy brought you flowers; he told you that you deserved them every day since it made you smile. And you believed him. When his parents got a new job, leaving him at your house or with strange relatives, he’d hide his face in your pillow, pretending tears weren’t racking his body. You’d run your tiny hands through his hair, and once he was done, you’d force him to watch movies with you. Making him laugh so hard that he no longer felt the absence of his parents. He would never be abandoned, because you’d never leave him.
The summer before high school, the two of you made a pact. Bound in the blood of scraped knees and years of friendship.
“We’re gonna be friends forever, you know that, right?” Steve asked, both of your backs pressed against the hot fabric of the trampoline. His hair was getting longer, his voice already deeper.
You had changed, too, your body developing in ways that made boys in school look at you longer. You started caring more about your appearance, making Steve call you gross every time you’d put on lip gloss. In the same way, you’d smack him with the hairspray can he stole from you.
“Of course I know that,” You said, “Why?”
He huffed, throwing his arm over his forehead in an attempt to quell the Indiana heat. “High school is just scary. What if we make new friends?”
You shrugged, not really thinking too much about it. “We both have other friends already.”
“But none of them are like you.” He said the meaning of his words wouldn’t come to him until much later.
“I know.” You smirked, kicking his shin with your foot. “Even when the world changes, our friends, school, and even when we change as people. It won’t matter because our friendship never will. We’re unchangeable.”
He laughed at your word choices, pushing your foot away from his playfully. “Growing up is scary.” He admitted after a brief moment of silence.
You hummed in agreement, reaching your hand down to grab his. Lacing your fingers together as if you’ve done it a thousand times, because you have.
“You make it not so scary.” You smiled, the two of you staring at the clouds.
“Pinky promise?” Steve asked, his voice betraying him. You just smiled, bringing up your other hand that wasn’t in his, holding out your pinky. He did the same, lacing your two pinkies together in an unspoken vow.
Time is a fickle thing. Nothing ever happens as you plan it; it’s the only consistency in the world. When the two of you stepped foot into Hawkin’s High, it was inevitable that things would change. He made the basketball team, coming over to your house with his jersey in hand. Jumping up and down, swearing you needed to join the Cheerleading team. You smacked him upside the head for even entertaining the idea. He made fun of you for joining the library club, a realization coming over you two that your High School experiences were heading into different directions. You promised to go to each of his games, and he said he would read one book a year for you. A compromise of sorts.
At his first basketball game, Trina Robbins kissed him courtside, her pom poms shaking wildly at her sides. It was the first time you saw him as a man, not just the little boy who’d help you catch fireflies in the backyard. You ran to him after the game, arms slinging around his shoulders in congratulations. He spun you around, his joyful laugh ringing in your ears.
“I’m so proud of you!” You gawked, his arms still wrapped around you. It wasn’t until you heard a loud cough from behind you. Trina and her friends were standing behind you, evil smirks on their faces.
“Y/n! This is my girlfriend Trina.” He smiled widely, his arm leaving your body quickly. He walked over to her, his arm slinging across her shoulders. “Babe, this is my friend I grew up with.”
Her perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched, “Oh? Steve didn’t mention you.”
You hoped the sound of the rowdy gymnasium covered the sound of your heart shattering. He didn’t even tell you he had a crush, let alone a girlfriend. Then he didn’t mention you at all. You knew Steve, your Stevie, would never do this. You brushed it off, a hopeless, dumb teenage boy in love. It was fine.
You braved it with a smile, ignoring their judgmental glares that Steve seemed oblivious to. “Well, nice to meet you, Trina. You did great.”
“I know.” She smirked, pulling Steve away. “Come on, I want ice cream.” And he was dragging her out the door.
He turned back, waving at you. “I’ll see you around!”
You sent him a wave back, riding your bike home in pitiful silence. Absent was the sound of his bike pedaling next to yours, his incessant complaining about assignments and practice.
It was just a simple interaction, one you tried not to dwell on. But little did you know it would be the first crack in the glass. Your interaction with Steve at school was becoming little to none as the weeks passed. Trina was glued to his hip, and when she wasn’t, his mean older teammates were. You still saw him some weekends, helping him study for his English tests. Inevitably, doing the assignments for him. He was still the same Steve you knew and loved, but something was different.
He no longer reached for your hand as much as he used to, and there were no more hugs goodbye. You knew this would happen when the two of you started dating, but soon the phone calls stopped. The weekend hangouts in his parents' basement were replaced with him going to parties. He no longer rode with you to school, biking halfway across town to let Trina ride on his pegs. You passed each other in the hallways, soft smiles and waves were all you got for the majority of the year.
It was the week before Summer break, and you were excited. You and your friends had planned a slumber party, painting nails, hair rollers in, and the stereo in your room blaring your newest cassettes. Preparing your future Summer plans. Celebrating the end of finals, gossiping about going into your sophomore year. You were flipping through a magazine, ready to point out a pair of shoes, when there was a loud tapping at your window.
The girls jumped, eyes wide at the sight of none other than Steve. His arms were clinging to the ledge, tapping on the glass. It feels like it has been ages since you’ve spoken to him, let alone seeing him, ready to climb into your room.
“What the hell?” Imogen yelled, her hand cradling her chest.
You rolled your eyes, ripping open the window. “What are you doing?”
“I just wanted to-oh oh, hi ladies.” He paused, looking past you to wave flirtatiously at your friends.
Your fingers flicked his forehead, “Out with it.”
“Mom wants you over Sunday night for dinner. Said it’s been too long. Still thinks she loves you more than me. Also, just wanted to see you.” He cheesed, to which you pretended it didn’t make your heart pound.
“Okay. You could've called.”
“Can’t see your annoyed face through the phone.”
You glared at him, making him cower. “Okay, okay. See you Sunday!” Then he was off, his feet hitting the ground with a thud. You lay back down on the floor, content to skim through he magazine once again. Trying to calm the thud of your heart. But your friends were not letting it go.
“You have the Steve Harrington sneaking through your window?” Jessica gawked, running and watching where he ran back to his bike.
“He’s my best friend.” You laughed nervously, watching her and Imogen stare at each other. An all-knowing look in their eyes. “He could’ve used the front door; he probably just wanted to show off.”
“Does that happen often?” Jessica asked, her line of questioning not done.
“Not as much as it used it. Sometimes I’ll go to his, but I’ll use the front door like a normal person. “ You shrugged mindlessly, “His bed is comfier anyway.”
What you thought was an innocent moment turned out to be anything but. When you walked into school the last day, you were met with too many eyes on you. From the moment you walked to your locker, the whispers were evident. Your palms were sweaty as you stumbled, unlocking the combination lock.
“Y/n.” Imogen rushed towards you, out of breath from seemingly running to you. “I’m so sorry. I told Jessica not to say anything, but she really wants to be on the cheer squad next year-”
“What?” You sputtered, “Say what?”
Before Imogen could spit it out, the school doors slammed open. Everyone’s eyes are on you. There stood Trina, complete with her group of friends. Her face was red, anger evident. You had zero idea what was happening, assuming Steve broke her heart and she was coming to take it out on you.
“Hey, you whore.” Trina spat, getting in your face within seconds. Your back pressed against your lock, eyebrows raised. Imogen had run off, muttering something about being back. You were left alone, nothing but a pissed off squad of cheerleaders at your neck, with half the school watching. You felt like you were in a bad 70s movie, living out your worst nightmare.
“What’s your fucking problem?” You asked, fingers clutching your stack of books like your life depended on it.
“I knew from the moment Steve introduced us that you’d be a problem. With your pathetic “poor me” face. You just couldn’t accept that he wanted me, huh?” She spoke, your mind still reeling.
“I literally have no clue what you’re talking about.” You tried to push past her, her friends pushing you back roughly into the lockers. Your books going flying from your hands.
“We’re talking about you fucking my boyfriend.” She spoke slowly, “I heard that you guys crawl into each other's windows and you spread your legs for him.”
Jessica. That fucking bitch Jessica. Your heart ached; you thought she was your friend. She knew nothing was happening between you two.
“I never fucked Steve.” A blush crept up your neck at your words, “He’s just my best friend. I’ve known him since I was in diapers.”
“Bullshit. You can lie to me, but she saw him literally hanging from your window.”
You didn’t know where the bravery came from, clinging to your pride as much as you could. “You know, Trina, I know no one ever wants to be around you unless you’re putting out, but there’s this thing called friends-”
Her hand backhanded your cheek before you could finish, the sting making your eyes water. On instinct, you raised your hand back, unable to get anything in before one of her friends kicked you in the shin. The other’s joining in. Pain bloomed through your body as you fought back, getting outnumbered within seconds. It was a blur; in seconds, they were on you, only stopping when they heard a yell down the hallway.
Imogen was running back, Steve in tow. He was in his gym clothes, his eyes wild.
“Get the hell off her.” He barked, his arm coming up to pull Trina’s shoulder back. “What the hell is your problem?”
Her other friends scattered, leaving you slumped on your feet. Arm cradling your stomach, which was bound to be covered in bruises. You couldn’t meet his eyes, but you felt his worried gaze on you.
“What’s my problem? My problem is you. Cheating on me with this loser?” She screamed, getting the attention of teachers who slowly poured into the hall.
“Y/n? Nothing happened. God, she’s like my sister.” It wasn’t the first time the comparison had been made, but it was the first time Steve had said it. He didn’t like the way the words shaped in his mouth, his throat going dry before he spoke back up again. “Y/n is my best friend. I told you that.”
He pushed her aside, dropping to his knees to look over you. He cupped your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Unshed tears were heavy in your eyes, blinking them away when he checked you over for injuries.
“Are you okay?” He whispered, helping you stand upright. You didn’t answer, keeping your gaze on the floor. Willing yourself to wake up from this nightmare.
“Steve, I’m sorry.” Trina whimpered, watching her social status flash before her eyes. Steve pushed you behind his back, his eyes wild with fury, while looking at her.
“You know what, Trina. I don’t think you have the right to call anyone a whore, considering you put out on our first date.” Steve’s words were cruel, an ice to them you’ve never heard before. “You can go to hell. If you ever come near her again, you or your bitchy friends. I will ruin your life. Understood?”
He was met with silence, tears falling down her cheeks. Little did Hawkins know this was the start of the infamous King Steve.
“Matter of fact, if anyone has issues with her, they come to me.” He yelled, right before the teachers swarmed in, grabbing Trina by the arm.
Steve held your hand in silence to the nurse’s office, his eyes squeezing shut when you showed the nurse your reddened skin.
“It’ll probably bruise, nothing bad enough to go to the hospital for.” She said, snapping her gloves off. “I’m gonna have the office call your parents up here.”
All you could do was nod, picking at the skin around your nails harshly.
“Y/n…” Steve whispered, his hand finding yours. You let him lace your fingers together tightly. It had been so long since you held his hand, but it still fit perfectly in yours. “I’m so sorry.”
You shook your head, “S’my fault. I made a joke to Jessica about how your bed is comfier than mine. I didn’t think she’d take it wrong, definitely didn’t think she’d tell half the school about it.”
“No, no. It’s not your fault. I haven’t been the best of a friend lately.” He admitted, letting his thumb rub over the top of your hand. “Can’t believe I let a stupid girl get in between us.”
His pained laugh made you roll your eyes, “Don’t care if you get a girlfriend, Stevie. Just want you to still talk to me.”
“I promise. God, I promise it’ll never happen again.” He laughed shakily, pressing soft kisses to your hand.
Things had still changed, changed so much sometimes it seemed like you were lifetimes apart from the two kids that sat hand in hand on that trampoline. But you’d accept any change, as long as he was still in your life. Without him, there was a hole in the shape of him, lodged in the middle of your chest. You felt the hole close, each moment Steve grinned at you. Promising to take you out for ice cream as soon as your parents show up.
Sophomore year rolled by so quickly, you wished you could have grabbed time, and begged her to slow down. Steve had grown a new reputation in school. King Steve, they called him, claiming him the royalty of Hawkins High. Little did they know the king of Hawkins made you blow-dry and hairspray his hair every morning. His girlfriends, or trysts as you liked to call them, all knew you. Whispers of the Trina incident followed every relationship of his; he just smiled and told them you’d always be more important than them. They either accepted it or they didn’t.
Dating for you didn’t come nearly as easily; most of the boys at school were so scared of Steve they steered clear of you with a ten-foot pole. It only got worse when he began hanging out with Carol and Tommy G. You hated them, despised how they fed into Steve’s ever-growing ego. They were kind to you, most of the time. It was clear they tolerated you only.
Every time Steve would grab you by the shoulders, pulling you into a hug in the hall, they’d groan.
“Gotta hug my girl.” He’d shrug, kissing your forehead goodbye before going off to class. Imogen would just roll her eyes, swearing up and down that the two of you just needed to start dating. You’d cringe, shaking her off. He was just your best friend you’d tell her. When she’d swear her and her best friend didn’t act like that, all you could do was shrug. “That’s just me and Steve.”
You didn’t have your first official boyfriend until the summer before Junior year, and Steve hated him. Hated him for reasons you were still unclear about. He was on the debate team, the most innocent, nerdiest of boys who had captured your heart. So when he broke your heart three weeks into the year, Steve had held you in his arms as you sobbed, brushing your hair down, swearing he’d kill him.
“I really will, I promise. I’ll use the beamer. Catch him on a foggy night and just boom,” Steve spoke, making your chest rattle with laughter. “Blood and guts everywhere.”
“It would ruin your nice and shiny car.” You pouted through your tears. For his 16th birthday, Steve’s dad had presented him with the infamous burgundy BMW. He’d almost spun the tires out pulling into your driveway. That night, the two of you went through a whole tank of gas, driving everywhere around town. You couldn’t imagine your ex-boyfriend's murder ruining that car.
“Would be worth it to see you smile.” He said, watching your puffy cheeks as you sat up.
“He was such a dickhead.” You frowned, rubbing your tired eyes. “I really thought what we had over the summer was good. Then he sees Rebecca in chemistry and thinks she’d be a better lay than me.”
Steve’s brows furrowed, “Did he say that?”
“It was implied.” You grumbled, fumbling with a loose thread from his shirt. “Can’t believe I lost my virginity to someone who asked if he was going to put it in the wrong hole.”
A loud laugh tore from his chest, “Wait, what?”
“He wanted to make sure, and I quote: “Is it in your vagina or your pee hole?” You burst out laughing, rubbing your face.
The two of you laughed until your chests hurt, Steve going on and on. “Dude, poor fucking Rebecca,”
“Poor Rebecca.” You wheezed, taking a deep breath in. It was good to laugh. It was good to be in Steve’s arms, the two of you lazily lounging in his bed.
“Hey,” Steve spoke up, “Do you wanna order pizza and disgrace his yearbook picture?”
You scoffed, “I’m offended you’d even ask Stevie.”
The two of you did just that, you ended up falling asleep on his bed. The two of you waking up in a tangled mess of arms. His body pressed against yours. In an awkward shuffle, you pulled away, and he nearly flung off the bed. Stuttering that he had to go to the bathroom, the door slammed shut. All you could do was laugh.
He drove you to school that morning, and you walked alongside. When you passed by Nancy Wheeler and her friend, Barb, Steve paused, sending a flirty wave her way. Your eyes squinted, waiting to speak until you got to his locker.
“Nancy Wheeler, huh?” You asked, ignoring the blush creeping up on his face.
“We’ve just been talking a little.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. You hadn’t seen him this flustered before. Not over a girl. You ignored the weird sinking feeling in your stomach, smiling teasingly at him.
“Oh, so someone has a crush.” You sang, making him shush you. Looking around, like everyone would hear.
“Just because my love life failed this year doesn't mean yours has to; ask her out.” You encouraged him, closing his locker for him.
He gave you a sympathetic look, patting your cheek gently. “Just because that loser broke your heart doesn't mean you can’t try again. Now I don’t think any men in this town deserve you, but I do want you happy.”
You nodded against his hand, mourning the loss of warmth when he pulled away.
“Go get him, tiger.” You smirked, watching him run down the hallway.
It was no surprise you were once again regretting your words a few weeks later, doing your best to avoid where Steve had his tongue shoved down Nancy’s throat in the middle of the hallway.
“They’re disgusting.” Barb had spoken; you didn’t know the girl well, but as Nancy joined your orbit, she had followed.
“Sometimes I wonder if she ever gets tired of him slobbering all over her face.” You said, causing Barb to giggle.
“Hey, you and Sam aren’t much better. Staring longingly at each other in homeroom.” She teased, making you roll your eyes. Sam was your friend, just a friend. There had been a few moments you thought something more could bloom between the two of you, but you shrugged it off. Unsure if you wanted to deal with another inescapable heartbreak.
“Y/n! Barb.” Nancy stuttered, just now realising the two of you were standing next to her. Her face was flustered, and Steve stood there unbothered as usual. “What are you talking about?”
“How Y/n needs to woman up and ask Sam out,” Barb said.
“No, don’t ever ask a man out. That’s the man's job.” Steve shook his head, pulling Nancy to his chest.
“I think if she wants to ask him out, that’s fine. Cute even. I have art with Sam, he’s really sweet.” Nancy smiled, staring nervously at you. You were friendly with Nancy, but the two of you didn’t have much in common, it felt like sometimes. Steve went on and on about how Nancy thought you hated her.
“I’m not asking anyone out, but thank you, Nancy.” You sighed, your head hitting the locker. “I’m just gonna die alone.”
“Little Y/n not able to get laid?” Tommy’s shrill voice ruined the moment the four of you were having.
“That’s not what your dad said last night.” You squinted your eyes at him, Carol responding with a sarcastic laugh.
“You kiss Steve’s ass with that mouth?” He asked, making Nancy tense. You didn’t miss it, Steve did.
“He has this running joke that I feed Steve’s ego blindly, that’s why we’re friends. Tommy finds friendship as this impossible-to-grasp concept. One could only wonder why.” You told her with a smile, “He also thinks he’s much funnier than he actually is.”
“Hey, cut it out. God, you two fight like animals.” Steve sighed, “While we’re all here. My house. Tonight. Parents are gone.”
“It’s Tuesday.” You deadpanned, not ready to get roped into another one of the Harringtons' infamous get-togethers.
“It’s Tuesday.” Tommy mocked, grunting when Steve elbowed him in the stomach.
“A party?” Nancy asked, her innocent face looking up at Steve.
“Ding, ding!” Carol laughed, making you roll your eyes.
While they broke into conversation about the party, your eyes followed Nancy’s. Watching Jonathan Byers tacking up missing posters for his brother.
“Oh, God, that’s depressing.” Carol snickered, and Barb walked away before the conversation got worse. You didn’t blame her; every time the couple spoke, it made your skin crawl.
“Should we say something?” Nancy asked, eyes full of empathy. You knew her little brother was friends with his.
“I don’t think he speaks.”
“How much you want to bet he killed him?” Tommy laughed, your head turning to meet Steve's.
You scoffed, “Your friends are fucking assholes. You know that?” And with that, you stormed off, determined to find Sam. You were going to ask him out; you deserved your own happiness. Your own life outside of Steve’s little bubble.
-
Your fingers twirled in the phone cord, “Y/n, please. Tommy said he’s sorry. Please just come.” Steve begged through the phone. You could hear them snickering in the background. He wanted you at this stupid party; he cleaned his pool out and everything. Even got your favorite wine coolers.
“I’m with Sam.” You blurted out, The man you spoke of caught your eye. He was sitting on your bed cross-legged, shirt askew. Maybe you did decide to ask him out and sneak him in through your window.
“So bring him,” Steve said after a brief pause. “Barb is here. If she’s here, there’s no reason you can’t be. Please.” The begging in his voice made your resolve crumble. Sucking you right back in.
About an hour later, you were stalking into Steve’s backyard, hand in hand with Sam. Sam was beautiful. Taller with shaggy hair, you couldn’t help but immediately notice how different he looked from Steve. Wondering why your brain forced you to compare the two. There was no time to dwell on that.
You introduced him to everyone, making sure to flip Tommy the bird while doing so.
“Steve. I heard a lot about you, man.” Sam spoke, holding his hand out for Steve to shake. It took Steve a moment to shake his hand. Probably gripping harder than he needed to.
Once that was out of the way, you all found a good rhythm, chatting and drinking cheap beers. You're sipping on your strawberry wine coolers, Carol cringing with each sip of beer.
“No fair, why did she get nice drinks?” She whined.
“Because she doesn’t drink beer. They’re her favorite.” Steve laughed, a billow of cigarette smoke falling out of his mouth.
You couldn’t help the smirk that graced your lips, leaning back into Sam’s chest. As much as they loved King Steve, none of them knew him the way you did. He knew you like it was the easiest thing in the world, while Tommy and Carol barely scratched the surface. They knew it too. Nancy was different; you knew she really cared for Steve. You just worried he’d break her heart; you warned him if he did, he’d never hear the end of it. She was different from the other girls.
“It’s different this time, Y/n.” He swore, flicking his pencil on the library table.
“What, like you love her?” You asked.
He paused, thinking for a moment. “I think so. Not as much as I love you, and not in the same way. “ He hummed.
“Aww, wait, so you’re really falling in love with her?” You cooed, “What happened to King Steve?”
“Oh shut up.” He grumbled, right before the two of you were shushed by library goers.
When your brain came back into focus, they were shotgunning beers, your eyes rolling at the dick measuring contest Steve and Tommy were perpetually in. You looked back at Barb, forcing her to join you and Sam’s little group.
“When they’re around women, they turn into animals. Everything is a contest.” You said, making the first smile appear on her face this night.
“Sam, you don’t wanna join?” She asked, making his chest rumble in laughter.
“I don’t think I need to chug a beer to impress Y/n. She’d probably call me a meathead.”
“You know me so well.” You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.
A large splash made you gasp, watching Carol come up from the pool. Tommy was standing there with a smirk on his face.
“What the hell, Tommy?” She shrieked, him jumping in beside her. It was then Steve’s turn to copy him, throwing Nancy and himself in the deep end.
“I broke my arm in this pool when I was 6. Don’t get any ideas.” You told Sam.
“So you’ve known Steve a while, huh?” He asked, watching the couples play about in the water.
“Since we were babies. We grew up together.”
“You guys couldn’t be more different.” He said it was an innocent comment. But it made you feel weird, frowning slightly.
“I guess I’m a little boring. A lot nicer to look at, though.”
“Disagree with the first part, but agree to the last.” He said, nuzzling his head in your neck.
“Hey, lovebirds,” Steve yelled, ruining the moment by splashing water at you two, “Get in.”
You shook your head, “I’m not ruining my shirt.”
“So take it off.” Tommy whistled. Carol smacking him upside the head.
“Didn’t know you wanted to see me shirtless that bad.” You teased back, Sam’s arm draping across your chest.
“I think everyone would enjoy the show, some more than others.” He whistled, Steve’s eyes shooting daggers into his skull.
“At least get in with us, Y/n,” Nancy spoke up, a smile on her face.
You turned to look at Sam, “I’ll get undressed if you do.” He teased.
“Fuck you all.” You grumbled, sitting up. You let Sam’s hands travel to the hem of your shirt, pulling it up over your head.
“Fold it, it’s cashmere.” You muttered to him, watching him place it gently in one of the chairs. Leaving out the part where it was a Christmas present from Steve’s parents.
Sam tugged his own shirt over his head, ignoring the hollers of the boys. You ignored the gazes, keeping your shorts on. Clad in those and a plain black bra. Thankful it at least wasn’t white today.
“Okay on-” You started, readying yourself for a countdown before you saw Sam running at you full force.
“Wait-no.” You squealed, being pushed into the pool. The cold water shocked your body, coming up with a shriek. “Fuck that’s cold.”
Sam’s hair was dripping all over his face, swimming over to hold you in his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto his shoulders for dear life.
“We should play a game,” Carol spoke up, a devilish grin on her face.
The group of you didn’t stay in the pool much longer after that, a few games of chicken before you were all shivering. There were only so many times you could push Carol into the water aggressively before someone got mad.
“I’m so cold.” Carol’s teeth were chattering while you wrapped the towel around yourself.
“I heard his mom’s room has a fireplace.” Tommy’s eyebrows waved suggestively at her.
“Gross, Steve, you’re gonna let them fuck in your parents' bed?” You groaned. Steve turned back, his eyes locking onto yours for what felt like the first time that night. This was while Nancy and Barb had a heated exchange, Barb storming off. You felt bad, making a mental note to bring her a muffin tomorrow morning in homeroom to apologize.
“Unless you and Sam want it first.” He said, making you cringe.
“We’re probably gonna head out.” You sighed, bidding them a goodnight.
“Hey man, thanks for inviting me,” Sam said to Steve, Steve responding with a tight-lipped smile. All you could do was squint at the man, watching him walk into the house.
“I guess we should head back.” You mumbled as soon as the two of you were alone, his hands resting on your hips.
“I guess,” He sighed playfully. “Or we could take advantage of his empty backyard.”
You gasped, “I’m not fucking you in my friend's yard.”
He shook his head, “I didn’t say all that.” He pulled you to one of the beach chairs, laying you down against the cold plastic.
Your heart was beating out of your chest, his lips pressed against yours hungrily. You kissed him back with fever, letting his tongue enter your open mouth. You gasped against him, feeling his hands cup your chest. Squeezing them before his hand trailed south, popping open the buttons of your soaked shorts.
“This okay?” He grumbled against your lips. You weren’t sure if it was the wine coolers or the warmth of his body against yours, but you nodded.
His hand slipped into your underwear easily, fingers finding the spot that had your back arching against the chair. Your eyes fluttered open when he hit that sweet spot inside you.
Your gaze accidentally landed on Steve’s window, the curtains open and wide. The warmth in your stomach grew as, watched his bare back ripple on the bed. There was no doubt what he and Nancy were doing. You looked away quickly, pressing your lips to Sam’s again. Pretending you didn’t just come around his fingers, looking at your best friend. You prayed he didn’t see it, the guilt radiating off of you. You shoved it down, focusing on his body against yours.
Little did any of you know that Johnathan Byers was in the woods just feet away, snapping photos of all of you.
-
Barb was absent from homeroom, and Sam swore to you that there was no reason to be worried. The roads were hard to navigate on Steve’s road, especially at night. It was more likely that she was too embarrassed or tired to come in. It still made a weird, nagging feeling bloom in your chest.
At lunch, you reluctantly joined the band of misfits again. Sam’s arm was lying against the back of your chair, Steve sitting across from you. Tommy was convinced he got frostbite from the pool, putting his disgusting foot on the lunch table, making you gag.
“Hey, Y/n.” You turned around, watching Nancy walk up to the table on a mission. “When you left, did you see Barb?”
You shook your head, Tommy cutting you off. “What?”
“Barbara. She’s not here today.” Nancy spoke, her patience running thin.
“I seriously have no idea who you’re talking about.” He shrugged.
“Come on, don’t be an ass, man. Did you...Did you see her leave last night or not?”
“No, she was gone when we left,” Tommy answered, Carol leaning over the table.
“Probably couldn’t stand listening to all that moaning.” She moaned, beginning to moan Steve’s name loudly. Tommy joined in mocking Nancy loudly.
Steve kicked him under the table, telling them to cut it out. You rolled your eyes, “I was worried this morning, but I think maybe she’s just skipping. We were out late last night.”
“Yeah,” Sam perked up, “She’s not usually a party goer, you know? Not used to running on a few hours of sleep.”
“Yeah, sure,” Nancy said with a tight lip.
After lunch, you were excited to finally go home, kissing Sam goodbye when he left for his art club. It was then that you saw Steve walking towards you in the hall, grabbing your arm harshly.
“Steve, what the fuck?” You asked, letting him angrily drag you into the parking lot with him. “What’s going on?” Carol, Tommy, and one of Carol’s friends, Nicole, followed along. Steve’s sights were on Jonathan Byers as he walked to his car.
“Steve, if you’re going to be an asshole to him, I’m not-” You were cut off by Carol, looking at you for the first time with genuine sympathy in her eyes.
“Y/n. Apparently, he was taking pictures of us last night.” She said, your eyes widening. Nicole simply nodded. You turned your head back to the disaster that was waiting to unfold.
“Hey, man,” Steve shouted, his voice wavering in anger. You don’t think he was this angry when Trina had you pinned against the lockers freshman year.
“What’s going on?” Jonathan stuttered, looking at all of you with wide eyes.
“Nicole here was, uh, telling us about your work.” He said Carol and Tommy agreed. Swearing, it sounded like the coolest art in the world.
“And we’d just love to take a look. You know, as... connoisseurs of art.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He lied, Tommy snatching his backpack off of him, tossing it over to Steve.
“Please, give me my bag.” He pleaded, Steve, ignoring him. Rifling through it to pull out a stack of photos. You leaned against his shoulder, watching him shuffle through the photos. Your heart fell into your stomach, seeing photos of you all getting out of the pool. Then Nancy upstairs, undressing in the window. Then his focus was on you, Sam’s hands down your pants. Your head tilted back in pleasure. Tears stung in your eyes, ripping the photos out of his hand.
“Let me see,” Tommy said, snatching a few from Steve’s hand. He and Carol taking turns looking through them. “Yeah, this isn’t creepy at all.
“I was looking for my brother.” He tried to defend himself, unable to look any of you in the eyes.
“No. No, this is called stalking.” Steve spoke, “Not only did you trespass, but you took perv photos of my best friend and my girlfriend. On my property. During private moments.”
Nancy took the perfect moment to walk up, her face concerned, watching the tears in your eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Here’s the starring lady.” Carol smirked, “One of them, anyway. I have to say Y/n, looks like he was rocking your world.”
You crushed the photos in your hand, shoving them frantically into your bag. Steve shot Carol a look that could kill, “Shut the fuck up for once, Carol.”
“This creep was spying on us last night,” She said, ignoring Steve’s outburst, handing Nancy a photo. “He was probably gonna save this one for later.”
Her expression matched yours, one of embarrassment and disgust.
“See, you can tell that he knows it was wrong, but…” Steve reached out to wipe Jonathan's sleeve, the boy flinching. “Man, that’s the thing about perverts... It’s hardwired into ’em. You know, they just can’t help themselves.”
You couldn’t watch this; the whole situation made your stomach turn.
“So…We’ll just have to take away his toy,” Steve said, grabbing the camera.
“Steve…” Nancy warned.
“No, please, not the camera,” he begged, watching Steve pretend to give it back. Your whole body cringed when Steve dropped the camera, the lenses shattering on the asphalt.
He stepped into Jonathan’s face again, pulling him by his collar. “If I find out you have pictures of her anywhere on that thing, it’ll be the last thing you see.” He spat, pushing him back roughly. Steve didn’t have to specify who he was referring to by the way he looked at you, before storming away.
You and Nancy were frozen, watching the ripped-up photos crumple to the ground.
“He shouldn’t have done that,” Nancy spoke quietly, eyes on the broken camera.
“Please don’t make me verbally agree with Carol and Tommy.” You begged, “He wasn’t just creeping on you. There are pictures of me on there, too.”
“Yeah, almost seems like Steve’s more upset about those than mine.” She mumbled under her breath.
“What do you mean by that?” You stopped her, grabbing her arm.
She jerked it away, snatching up the rest of the pictures. “Nothing. Just nothing, Y/n.”
You were left standing there, dumbfounded. You looked back between Jonathan and the remains of his camera.
“I hope you find your brother.” You managed out, walking back towards the group. Steve’s arm wraps around your wrist, pulling you to him.
“You still going to the game?” He asked, his skin still warm from frustration. You shook your head no, pulling away from his grasp.
“I’m just gonna head home.”
He looked down at you, concern lacing his features. “Call you later?”
All you could do was give him a weak smile. He paused, holding out his pinky. You stared at his finger; you hadn’t done a pinky promise with him in years. You laced yours with his, “Promise.”
You avoided Nancy’s stares when you walked away, holding your hand close to your chest.
-
They found Barbara’s car in a ditch a mile from Steve’s house, 3 days later. In a ditch you passed on the way home that night, unknowing that her body was pinned inside the vehicle for days.
A week later, they found Will Byers alive in the woods, malnourished and traumatized, but alive. You were thankful there was at least one positive to the recent events in Hawkins. Nancy was in hysterics at Barb’s funeral, and Sam held you through the guilt. The two of you eventually made it official. Dating him was easier than it had been before, almost too easy. Sometimes it felt like you were putting on a show, living your life as you were taught you were supposed to.
Time passed, as it often did. Senior year was full of jobs and college applications, and getting swept up in talk of the future. Despite your insistence on Steve studying and you doing half of his English assignments, his grades weren’t good. You held his hand, swore to him it would all be fine. But you knew his dad, and you knew the type of son his dad wanted him to be. Somehow, Halloween had crept up on you; flyers to Tina’s party floated around the halls.
Despite Steve’s incessant begging to get you to join the pair, Sam was out of town visiting family, and you weren’t interested in third wheeling. Nancy had already been distant with you ever since the Jonathan incident; the last thing you wanted to do was make it worse. Late that night, you stayed in bed, only being roused by your phone ringing. You tried to ignore it, but the caller was only calling again. You rolled over, angrily gripping the phone off the hook.
“Hello?” You barked.
“Y/n..” Steve’s faraway voice came in through the phone.
“Steve?” You questioned, confused as to what number he was calling you from.
“Y/n. I need a ride. Nancy left me.” He mumbled.
Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head at his words, jumping up to slip on some clothes.
“You at Tina’s?” He responded with a mumbled yes.
“I’ll be there in 15. Please do not go anywhere.” You made him promise, not holding drunk Steve to anything. You sped there, parting drunken bodies to find Steve. Sunglasses still perched on top of his head, his eyes hazy.
“Guys, it’s my best friend.” He laughed, flinging his body onto yours. You pushed him off with a grunt, grabbing him by the arm. Dragging him out into the yard. Using all your strength as he kept going, deadweight on his feet.
This wasn’t the first time you had to pick a drunk Steve up from somewhere, but this was the worst.
“Bullshit.” Steve slurred, his body slumping more in your hold.
“What?” You were exasperated at this point, just barely able to toss his body into your passenger seat.
“Bullshit. Nancy said it was all Bullshit. Didn’t love me.” He whined, his face pained with each word.
Your brows furrowed, “Nancy loves you.” That was all you could manage to say, reaching over him to buckle him in.
“No, no, she doesn’t.” He whined by the time you started the car, driving him slowly to his house. You only had to pull over once for him to throw up, thankful he didn’t ruin your floorboards.
Getting him up into his room was easy, seeing as he threw up a portion of the alcohol in his system.
“Come on, Joel Goodson, let’s get you to bed.” You sighed, taking the sunglasses off of him despite his protests. He took his own shirt off, not bothering with his pants, as he curled up in the bed. You watched his eyes flutter closed, his chest rising and falling. He looked peaceful, the frown lines he had earlier melting away. You moved the blanket over him, ready to leave before he stopped you.
“Please don’t leave me.” He whimpered, not even opening his eyes.
Your heart splintered open in your chest, crawling into bed with him. He nuzzled into your side, probably going to drool all over your sweater. That was fine, as long as he got some sleep.
“Thank you,” He mumbled, “M’loving me. Wish it was you.”
“What?” You asked, your heart falling into your stomach. The only response you got was his gentle snores. You didn’t get any sleep that night, content to lie on your back. Brushing your hands through his hair, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he meant. Or if he’d even remember.
That wasn’t something you had the time for, deciding to push it into the back of your mind.
Safe to say he didn’t when you woke up to him throwing up in his side table trash can, making you cringe. You did what you did best, taking care of him. He told you the story of what happened between him and Nancy, not liking your response.
“I don’t think she deserves you, Stevie.”
“Come on-”
“I mean it, I know she’s going through a lot, but you didn’t kill Barb. It was an accident.”
He was quiet for a moment, hesitant to say the rest of the story. “She also thinks I’m in love with you.”
The mood in the room shifted, the tension thick. “W-what? Why would she think that?” You stuttered out.
He shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “I didn’t defend her honor enough with Jonathan, which is funny considering she forgave him.”
“She forgave him?” You scowled, trying to do your best to forget that night ever happened. The pictures were burnt in your fireplace, alongside photos of you and your ex.
“Told her she wasn’t allowed to do that since he took pictures of you, too. She didn’t like that.”
“What a bitch.” You mumbled, grabbing his hand in yours.
“Dating is hard.” He gave you a sad smile, to which you nodded. “How are you and Sam?”
You shrugged, “Fine. I think it's a little too fine. Sometimes I feel bad that he’s too sweet, too forgiving, too- I don’t know, is it mean to say boring?”
“He does seem a little lame,” He teased, you hitting his chest playfully. He winced, holding his head, “I might throw up, don’t do that.”
“He’s not lame. I just think something is wrong with me. Sometimes it feels like I can’t love him like I’m supposed to. Like I'm broken.” You admitted, watching his eyes soften at your admission.
“I think you love me just right.” His words were quiet, heavier than before. “You’re not broken, Y/n.”
“You don’t make it easy.” You joked, unraveling your hands. Maybe one day you’d explain to him that loving him was the easiest thing in the world, because you never had to think twice. From the moment you were born, there was an invisible thread tying you to him. Instead, you pushed it down, slapping his chest playfully.
“Especially when you smell like an expired liquor store.”
“Hey!” He whined.
It was all fine, everything was fine. He went to shower, and you went home. He was going to buy Nancy flowers, and you were going to wait by the phone, waiting for Sam to call. So why did it feel so wrong?
-
You got a call from Steve the next afternoon, asking if you’d come over. You obliged, only to be godsmacked by his bruised and bloodied face.
“Oh my god? What the fuck?” You asked, rushing inside the door.
“Am I an asshole?” He asked, ignoring your concerns.
“What?” You muttered, dragging him into the bathroom. You immediately grabbed the first aid kit, ready to wipe his face with an alcohol pad. He stopped you, grabbing your wrist loosely.
“Am I an asshole?” He repeated, his dark brown eyes heavy with sadness.
“I mean, sure sometimes,” You’d never lie to him, “But you aren’t an asshole, you can just act like one.”
“I did something really stupid.” He admitted.
“Oh, really? I can’t tell.” You snarked, pressing the pad to his face. Making him wince in pain while you cleaned off the dried blood. “Let me guess, Nancy.” Her name tasted bitter on your tongue.
He cocked his head to the side, “You don’t like her?”
“I’m starting not to Stevie.” You admitted, bandaging the cut under his eyes closed.
“Went to apologize to her with flowers for the other night, Jonathan Byers was in her bed. Tommy and Carol convinced me to spraypaint some bullshit at the theatre about her being a slut, he kicked my ass.” You took a moment to soak in his story, finishing with one last pink bandage.
“Well, I guess you deserved a small ass kicking, but not this bad.” You winced. “Am I allowed to beat her ass?”
“Y/n..”
You threw your hands up, “Sorry, sorry!”
In the silence, you cleaned up the bloodied paper, washing your hands in the sink. He stayed still, his brows furrowed in thought. A frown line forming into the crease of his forehead, you wanted nothing more than to rub your thumb over it. Releasing all the tension from him.
“Penny for your thoughts?” You asked, placing your hand next to his on the counter. Propping yourself up next to him, your arms brushing.
“Do you ever think about it?”
“Bout what?” You asked, oblivious to what thoughts were rolling around in that head of his.
“How much easier it would be if we were in love.”
Who would have thought 11 words would tilt your world on its axis? You must have been silent for longer than you thought. Steve speaking up again, “I mean, imagine how easy it would be. We’re already basically a couple anyway. Imagine if we were in love.” There was a subtle hopefulness in his voice; you told yourself you were reading into things.
“Yeah. Imagine.” Your voice felt foreign to you.
The silence was thick again, Steve’s eyes heavy on you.
“Penny for your thoughts?” He copied you, his arm rubbing against yours, intentionally this time. Like he needed your touch to ground himself with each word he spoke. The sensation makes chills go up your spine.
“I think,” You cleared your throat, “That you just got hit in the head a lot. You need ice.”
If Steve was going to speak, you didn’t hear, too busy gliding out of the bathroom into the kitchen. Your hands shaking with adrenaline as you get him an ice pack ready.
“Y-yeah.” He laughed, “Probably have brain damage or something.”
With your doctoring, you gave Steve a clean bill of health, leaving him with instructions to ice and call you if his head hurt any worse. The entire drive home, all you could think about was Sam.
Sam made you feel steady, like you were safe on the shore. Feet planted in the sand, a war, breeze flowing through the air. Why wasn’t it enough? Why didn’t it make you feel alive?
-
Adulthood snuck up on you, graduation coming and going. You were ashamed to admit you were relieved he and Nancy were finally done. He seemed sad, but lighter. You had Dustin to thank for that, the kid he semi-adopted, despite him claiming he didn’t. The kid adored him. When he went off to summer camp, Steve nearly shed a tear, swearing you to secrecy that you’d never tell him that. He’d never live it down.
When the mall opened up, it was the perfect opportunity for ‘real world experience’ as Steve’s father called it. Scoops Ahoy had hired him on the spot, complete with the cutest little outfit to go with it. You found a simpler, less embarrassing job at a bookstore at the end of the hall. The two of you were still able to spend too much time with each other.
His co-worker Robin became your best friend, much to Steve’s chagrin. If he thought you were picking on him, each time the two of you were together, it was Steve’s own personal level of hell.
Today’s topic of discussion was his horrible flirting skills. Being back on the market had made him rusty, fumbling around every single girl that walked in. Robin’s ‘You Suck’ board had made you cry out of laughter when she showed you.
“Ladies, 3 o’clock,” Robin whispered, pulling your head down behind the window. The two of you are ready to spy on him.
“Ahoy, ladies! Didn't see you there. Would you guys like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I'll be your captain. I'm Steve Harrington.” He spoke, too high a volume for the quiet store. The girls cringed with each word.
“Oh my god, he’s hopeless.” Robin sighed.
You couldn’t help but agree, “It’s like a car crash. I can’t stop watching.”
He stumbled his way through offering ice cream samples, the girls taking their scoops awkwardly and leaving in a fit of giggles. Steve closed his eyes, “I don’t wanna hear it.”
“Oh, you’re gonna hear it.”
-
Steve’s freckled shoulders were underneath your hands, your fingers digging into his muscle.
“God, you feel so good.” His voice was raspy, the moan coming deep from his chest. He was deep inside you, his hips rutting frantically against your own. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed in the room. The headboard slapping the wall.
“Steve, Steve.” You moaned his name like a broken record, his lips nipping at your neck. His name fit perfectly on your tongue.
“There you go, honey, you gonna cum around me?” He asked, looking down at you. Your eyes meet his as you..
You woke up in a hot sweat, fingers twisting in the sheets. There was a thin layer of sweat covering your body, chest rising and falling. Sam lay next to you, as still as a board. You let out a shaky breath, the throbbing between your legs reminding you of what you just experienced. Slipping out of bed silently was easy, grabbing a glass of water with shaky hands. The fantasies your mind conjured up played like a highlight reel as you stared into the dark room.
“What the fuck.” You breathed, laying your head down on the cool counter. Hoping the granite would quell the fire blooming through your body.
Steve’s words from last fall echoed in your mind.
“Have you ever thought about us?”
You felt queasy, content to head back upstairs. Crawling into bed with Sam as if nothing had happened. It was fine; you can’t control your dreams. There’s no such thing as bad thoughts, only actions. And nothing had happened, nothing will happen.
-
The dream was haunting your every move, every time Sam tried to initiate anything, his face blurred with Steve’s. It’s like you were cursed. You began to see Steve in everything. Every place around Hawkins you frequented, memories lingered on all of your clothes. You couldn’t escape him, and a sick, cruel part of you didn’t want to.
“You okay?” Sam asked, his hand still steady on your hips. Sam. He was kissing you; he wanted you. You blinked away the faraway look in your eyes, nodding weakly.
“Just got distracted.”
You refused to be haunted by make-believe, bringing Sam down to your level. Kissing him hard. Fingers pressed into his shoulders. Your brain continued terrorizing you, flashing you images of your dream. Before you realised it, you were mirroring the exact position. You moaned and twisted your body every which way, fighting for that feeling. When he slipped inside, all you could think about was Steve. Would he touch you like this?
“Is that good?” Sam interrupted your thinking, noticing how quiet you had been. His hips slowing down. Catching onto your wood behavior.
“Y-yeah.” You lied, smiling up at him. “Maybe just a little harder?”
He obliged, the headboard creaking against the wall. Your eyes fluttered shut again, letting yourself indulge. Just for a moment. You told yourself it was to test your theory, but you knew what it was. It was the carnal urge to let yourself crave him. Just once, to let your mind wander into the feelings you’ve pushed so far back in your mind.
You thought about his plump lips, the way his hair falls on his forehead after basketball practice, the swell of his biceps, and the happy trail you see when he stretches. Steve. All you could think about was Steve, every neuron in your body lighting up at the mere thought of him.
“You like that?” Sam asked, watching your back arch.
All you could do was nod, watching a highlight reel behind your eyelids. You imagined what his body would feel like against yours, heavy and slick with sweat. How he’d feel pressed inside you. How attentive he would be. You couldn’t take it, your legs shaking around his hips.
“Stev-Sam.” You stuttered, covering it up with an obnoxious moan. Pushing it down, pushing down every single thought of him that made you feel alive. Your eyes stayed shut when he came, scared your eyes would tell him everything.
“God baby, you really liked that, huh?” He yawned, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
That night, you cried in the shower, scrubbing every inch of your body raw. Doing everything you could to feel clean, the sin and disgust clinging to your skin like a bad perfume.
-
The next day at work, your hands were shaky. You were spacy, constantly zoning in and out. The mall patrons only occupied you when they had questions. Working at a bookstore was the ideal place for peace and quiet, but now it felt like your own personal hell. Trapped in these walls.
When the clock hit noon, you were running through the mall, nearly knocking down entire families in your path.
The familiar Scoops Ahoy sign made you sigh. Steve would be on break right now. At least you didn’t have to face him. Your body collided with another, his cologne alerting you to his presence before he did.
“Where’s the fire?” Steve laughed, his hands falling to your hips. That was normal, that was something that happened. But now it felt like the fire was inside of you, burning you from the inside out.
“Uh, I just need to see Robin. I’m out of girl things. Pads, tampons, you know.” You stuttered out a lie, trying not to watch the way his lips parted when he spoke.
“I have some in my car for you, you know.” He started, you cutting him off.
“Yes! Thank you. Can you go get them?” Your eyes were wide, your voice too loud, and he just squinted at you.
“Okay..I don’t remember your period making you this weird.” He grumbled, letting go of you. “I’ll be back. I can get you some chocolate from Bon Bon?”
“I’d love that.” Your face softened, feeling horrible for lying to him. As soon as his back disappeared amongst the crowd of people, you jumped over the counter, Robin’s scooper flying out of her hand.
“What the hell?” She asked, eyeing your disheveled appearance.
“Hey Robin.”
“Hey, Y/n.” She mocked your cadence.
“Can I tell you something, if you swear on your life to never mention it to another living soul?” Her face got serious, noticing your expression.
“Yes, of course.”
You took a deep breath, saying the next sentence so quickly that only someone like Robin would have been able to understand it. “I had a sex dream about Steve last night, and that’s never happened before, ever. I’ve never thought of him that way, maybe once or twice in passing as a curious teen, but never seriously, and now I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Her eyes were wide, your chest heaving from the speed at which you word vomited at her.
“A sex dream?” Her jaw was on the floor, “Steve? Your best friend since birth, Steve?”
You shushed her, spinning around the empty Scoops Ahoy like a woman on a mission.
“Yes.”
“I mean, I’ve had a sex dream about Smurfette once, so I wouldn’t think too much about it.” She offered, watching your still panicked face.
“Wait,” She paused, “What do you mean you can’t stop thinking about it?”
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You grumbled, knowing Robin wasn’t going to let it go.
“Nope, you can’t drop a bombshell on me and not elaborate.”
You grabbed her arm, pulling her into the backroom. Watching through the window anxiously as if he was going to materialize at any moment.
“I just keep thinking about it. Like earlier, he was speaking, and all I could think about was that my dream lips had touched his dream lips. Then I couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss him.” You rambled, “Then I look at him and feel guilty. Like I’m dirty and sinful because I can’t stop thinking about, dreaming about him naked. And inside of me-”
“Whoa! Too much information-” Robin cut you off.
You ignored her, “And he’s my best friend. My Stevie. So what do I do? I can’t even look him in the eyes anymore.”
“Do you like him?” She spoke slowly, like she was poking a frightened bear.
You stopped your anxious pacing, tears welling up in your eyes. You were so overwhelmed you could barely think, and you shook your head. “N-no?”
“Babes, you didn’t sound too confident there.”
“Can I tell you something else awful?” You whispered, there was never a filter between you and Robin. There probably never would be.
She nodded softly at you to speak.
“When Sam and I had sex the first time, I almost called him Steve. A-and I thought maybe I just you know? Two S names and all,” You laughed manically. “Then the dream, so I’m wondering if it’s always been subconscious. So when Sam and I had sex last night, I closed my eyes and imagined Steve. And I did it again.”
When it was off your chest, you felt lighter, albeit dizzy.
“And?” She added, her eyes wide.
“I was really sad to open my eyes and see Sam.” You cried, tears pouring down your cheeks now. “And Sam was like Wow, you’ve never been so into it before and I’m so awful. I’m such a bad person.”
Robin was the only person in the world you could trust to tell. You liked Sam, you really did. But you couldn’t feel a fraction of what you felt just thinking about Steve with him. You felt broken, stringing the man along because you couldn’t face the music.
“Honey.” Robin frowned, pulling your shaking frame into her arms. “I don’t think you’re a bad person. I just think you’re in love with Steve.”
You shook your head frantically, “I can’t be. Can’t. It’ll ruin everything.”
Robin’s lips tightened in a straight line, choosing her words carefully. The entire Summer Robin has had to endure similar conversations with Steve. How they still didn’t see it was beyond Robin. The entirety of Hawkins thought they had been dating for years.
“But there’s that chance he could feel the same way. You won’t know unless you try.”
You were saved by the door busting open. Steve’s arms are full of various bags. Pads, tampons, and various snacks. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, just got one of everything. Robin, I got you some gummies-” He rambled, looking up to see the two of you embracing, tears pouring down your face.
He held out the bags to you nervously, “I’m sorry your vagina is bleeding.”
The moment the words left his mouth, you and Robin fell into each other laughing, Steve’s face going red.
“Women.” He muttered, tossing the bags onto the table with a thud.
-
Robin’s words sat heavily on your mind, but instead of listening to her sound advice, you ignored it. Ignored the horrible feeling in your gut and prayed it would go away after some time. Now you were walking up to Steve’s front door, Sam’s hand in yours.
The kids had conned him into hosting a movie night, complete with all the junk food you all could gather. You, Sam, Robin, and Steve were the designated chaperones. Although it’s not like they actually listened to anything any of you said. You were bombarded when you walked through the door, getting tugged in different directions by various kids. The girls wanted your advice on something, Dustin needed you to convince Steve to let them swim after dinner, and the rest of the boys were screeching about some game.
“Go ahead,” Sam had chuckled, “Love you.”
That was another new development. Sam had told you he loved you multiple times now. Each time you sent him a tight-lipped smile, no words escaped your mouth. It broke your heart that you couldn’t love him. You loved being loved by him, and you were selfish enough to drag him along.
“That was awkward,” Max muttered. You ignored it. Letting them drag you into the house.
After the kids had run you ragged, you found Steve in the kitchen setting up the multiple boxes of pizza.
“Remind me again why I signed up for this?” Steve sighed, gesturing to the gaggle of children currently destroying his living room.
“Because they were getting sick of the mall. It’s summer break.” You laughed, “And you are the one who designated yourself as the babysitter.”
He sighed, “Still..”
“And you love me?” You giggled, grabbing a stack of plates from the cabinet.
“That I do.” He said, his eyes meeting yours before they caught Sam’s hovering behind you.
“I love you. Love you enough to tell you that I’m not helping you clean this up tomorrow.”
Sam cleared his throat, and you whipped around. Startled by his presence.
“Hi-”
“Can we talk?” He cut you off, shooting Steve daggers behind your back.
“Okay?” You stuttered, taken off guard. Steve excused himself, patting your arm gently before he slid past you two. Leaving you both alone in his kitchen, Sam’s eyes dark on yours.
“What’s wrong?” You asked.
“Why do you let him do that?”
Your brows furrowed, “Let who do what?”
“Steve. You let him give you those pathetic puppy dog eyes.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh come on,” He laughed, the tension growing thick, “He glares at me like I’m going to attack him at any second, then he looks at you like a kicked dog. He touches you whenever he gets the chance. And you just let him.”
“Sam, it’s-” You stuttered, “It’s how we’ve always been.”
“Yeah, well, it’s getting sort of ridiculous, Y/n.” He scoffed, spinning around to head for the door.
You followed, ripping the door open behind him. “What is?”
“You!” He yelled, his hands waving in front of you. With all the commotion, you gave it a few minutes before Steve and Robin followed you outside. No doubt the kids had their ears pressed to the door. What an embarrassing disaster this night has turned into
“Sam-”
“Have you just been playing in my face for over a year?” He asked, his voice thick with emotion.
You shook your head quickly, tears welling in your eyes. “No, no Sam no. I would never.”
“So you love me?”
You went silent, your bottom lip wobbling.
“You can’t even fucking say it.” He spat. “That’s all I wanted from you, but you can’t even give me that.”
“Is this because I told Steve I love him?” You whimpered, willing the tears not to fall. “We’ve been telling each other we love each other since we could speak.”
He shook his head, “No. Something changed. Either you’re too blind to see it or-” He cut himself off, letting out a heartbroken laugh. The front door opens behind you. You knew who it was, without turning around. Steve would always come for you; he always has. What you’ve truly wanted has been right in front of you, and you never realized it until now.
“There’s your knight and shining armor.” Sam scoffed, rubbing his mouth with his hand.
“Y/n, are you okay?” Steve ignored Sam’s words, his soft voice speaking to you only. The voice he used before kissing your bandaids over scraped knees. The voice that got you through the darkest times. The same one that asked you that night, he asked if you’d ever thought about it.
“She’s fine. We’re talking, can we please have a moment?” Sam spoke when you didn’t, tears falling freely down your cheeks now.
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” Steve responded, his hands on his hips now.
Sam laughed, a cruel one. “I know you can’t fight Harrington, so don’t bother.”
“Stop.” You spoke weakly, turning around. “Steve, just give us a second.”
His eyes met yours, the two of you having a silent conversation with your eyes. He was ready to turn inside, but this only angered Sam further.
“Actually, no, Steve, you should stay.” Sam’s voice chilled you to your bones, your eyes snapping to his. Despite your protests, he continued. “We were just talking about how Y/n doesn’t love me. Apparently, you’re all she can think about.”
“Bullshit-”
“You’re dreaming about him, Y/n! You have repressed your feelings so far down that you don’t even realize how pathetic it is. God, it’s so fucking embarrassing being with you, watching the two of you dance around each other.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You cried, confused as to how he would even know about your dreams, your feelings.
“You say his name in your sleep. You say his name during sex.” He let out in a heartbreaking laugh, “You think I didn’t hear you? You think I don’t see that faraway look in your eyes? When you look disappointed to see me there?”
It was as if you could feel your world falling apart all around you; you wanted nothing more than the world to swallow you whole. Steve’s eyes were burning into the back of your head; you couldn’t face him. Not when Sam was laying it all out in the open, flaying your heart open right here for Steve to see.
“That doesn’t mean I never cared for you.” You sniffled, “Sam, I could love you, I could.”
“I wish I could believe that. I really do.” He sighed, shuffling his feet.
Steve stayed quiet, unsure of what to do. He was stuck against the door, his heart aching for you. Even for Sam.
“You know what the worst part of all of this was?” He laughed, tears filling his eyes, “I always knew this would be how it ended. You, running into his arms. Everyone warned me, but I loved you too much to listen.”
“I’m so sorry.” You blubbered, your arms wrapped around yourself. This was it; you couldn’t go back from this.
He shook his head, “No. Not really, you’re not..” Were his last words as he turned around, speeding off down the road in his truck
Everything you had ever known was dissipating in front of your eyes. All the plans you had made. That metaphorical box of feelings you had been cramming to the brim finally crumbled underneath its own weight. You were scared you were going to drown. The unknown picking up your body and dragging you to sea.
“Y/n..” There was that voice again, your forever anchor. You shook your head, wiping away your tears. You couldn’t face him, you couldn't do this.
“We gotta talk about it.” His voice was thick, “We gotta get it out.”
“I can’t.” You whimpered, hiding your face in your hands.
He stepped forward anyway, grabbing your wrists in his hands. Pulling them away to expose your tear-stained cheeks.
“It’s just me. It’s just me.” He reassured you, holding your face in his hands. He held you as if his whole world was resting upon his palms, because it was.
“That’s the problem.” You cried, eyes still squeezed shut. If you opened your eyes and saw him, it would all be real; the weight of this would crash on your shoulders. But you knew he’d be there to catch you.
He let you steady yourself, pressing his forehead to yours. Waiting for your frantic breaths to match his, your shaking hands gripped his jacket. Searching for a lifeline.
“All this time….” He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Your eyes shot open at his words, his eyes glossy, full of a thousand unsaid words.
“I've spent so many years dancing around it. Pushing it down and just praying it would go away. If I thought about it too hard, if I let the idea cross my mind, it would never go away. So I couldn’t. Couldn’t lose you.” You cried.
“You’d never lose me. Look at me, Y/n Y/l/n.” He promised, forcing you to keep your eyes on him. He wasn't going to let you look away, not now.
“The love I have for you,” his voice cracking, “The love I have for you transcends every possible doubt you have in your mind. I look for you in every room, every time I need you, you are right there, you’ve always been right there. Through it all. If I could go back, I'd kick myself for letting you get away from me for so long, but it doesn’t matter. Because we’re right here. And I'm not going anywhere. However long it takes, whatever it takes. You’ve always been my girl.”
You nodded, “Pinky promise?” It came out as a pathetic whimper, tears slipping down Steve’s cheeks, matching your own.
“Yes,” He gave you a teary laugh, “Pinky promise.” His hand came up, his pinky finding yours. He leaned down, kissing your knuckles. Suddenly, you were both 13 again, the same Indiana sun beaming down on you two.
“I choose you and me, religiously. Through everything, everyone in my life. Not because I felt like I needed to, but because I wanted to. There was no one else, god, there was never anyone else I’ve loved as much as I love you.” He cried, his forehead pressing harshly into yours, “It’s always been us. You hear me?”
“Steve..”
“I love you, Y/n, you’re my best friend, and I am helplessly, unequivocally in love with you.”
“That’s a real big word for you.” You laughed through the tears, making him beam.
“It is a huge word for me, only I even know it because of you.” He sighed, “There are no words to explain just how much I love you.
“I think I’ve loved you my whole life.” You whispered, your noses brushing. “It’s the only thing that’s ever come easy to me.”
Steve’s smile could rival that of a thousand suns, his lips brushing yours. “Can I?” His voice was meek, unsure.
You didn’t even have a chance to nod, closing the gap between you. Your lips pressing softly to his. He kissed you like he was coming home, and you kissed him back as you needed him to survive. The two of you are drowning in the kiss, hands clenching each other tightly as if both of you would wake up from a dream.
When you pulled apart for air, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes dark. What a mess the two of you looked, tear-stained and blushing in the middle of his driveway.
“I love you.” You said, just to say it. Just because you could.
“And I love you.” He pressed a longing kiss to your forehead, pulling back to look at you.
“This has been so embarrassing. Can’t believe I ruined movie night.” You sniffled.
“Those kids are fine. Robins probably distracted them by now with some ridiculous scheme.” Steve said, kissing away the tears running down your face. You both had a lot to talk about, you needed time to think, and grieve. But the crushing weight of your feelings was finally off your shoulders, and Steve didn’t run away. He ran towards you, holding your hand just like he always had.
You were thankful for the kids who acted oblivious, throwing popcorn at you the moment you walked back in the door. Making you pay for having to listen to Robin monologue about Gremlins, before even pressing play on the tape.
Steve simply shrugged, pulling you down against him on the couch. His arms are around your chest. It wasn’t anything different from how he’d held you before, but it was also so different. New intentions, a new feeling sparking every time you two touched.
That night, neither of you was able to sleep, content to tiptoe over the sleeping children. Steve nearly slips on Mike’s blanket, making you have to cover your mouth to stop the laugh from slipping out. The sliding glass door creaked as you two descended into the night. Steve practically pulling you into his backyard like a man on a mission.
“What are you doing?” You giggled, watching the old trampoline come into view. Your heart ached; it must have been in his garage collecting dust.
“Made the kids pull it out.” He answered you before you even asked, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “Robin asked if we wanted candles and rose petals, but I told her this was perfect.”
“It is.” You whispered, your hands running over the rusted springs.
Steve helped hoist you up, the two of you plopping down on the worn-out plastic. Both of you bouncing into each other.
In a rushed fit of giggles, you pulled him down next to you, your head nuzzling into his chest. With his arm around your waist, he held you close. The stars were bright tonight, a rare, clear night this time of year.
“I never thought this would happen,” He admitted, “Always thought you were too good for me. That I’d never deserve you. I still don’t think I do.”
“I didn’t think you’d ever choose me. I mean, out of all the girls in Hawkin’s you’ve been with, and there’s been a lot,” You teased, “I didn’t think I had a shot in the dark.”
“Honey, you are my girl. Everyone knew.” He smiled, thinking back to all the times everyone said you two were practically dating anyway. Looking back, it was painfully obvious; the only oblivious ones were you two.
“Guess I just thought you were fulfilling some pinky promise we made as kids. Like out of some weird obligation to the weird girl who started following you around one day and never stopped.” You admitted sheepishly.
“That’s ridiculous, honey.” That was all he could say, humor lacing his words.
“I mean, looking back, it was kinda obvious,s huh?” You laughed, your mind giving you a highlight reel of the past few years. All the girlfriends of his you hated, the boyfriends of yours he wouldn’t even give a chance. Everyone’s whispers, both of your parents, calling it from a young age. It was always inevitably going to end here, no matter how bumpy the ride.
“Dude, our moms are gonna flip.”
“Ugh, they’ve probably already planned the tackiest wedding imaginable.” You groaned.
“You wanna marry me, honey?” He teased, poking your side.
“Shut up.” You grumbled, your cheeks warming.
“I think,” He said, eyes going back up to the stars, “I think I'd marry you right now if you said yes.”
“I’d say yes.” You admitted, “I’ve never been so sure about something my whole life.”
Suddenly, he was jolting up from the trampoline, leaving you bouncing in his absence.
“What are you doing?” You laughed, watching him stumble around in the dark, hands brushing through the grass. If you knew any better, you’d have thought he finally lost his mind.
“Wait, wait. No! Yes, fuck yes okay.” He muttered, ripping something out of the ground, running back up the trampoline. He was illuminated by the moonlight, his eyes sparkling as he looked up at you. He was on one knee, holding up a dandelion he’d folded into a ring.
“Are you proposing?” You laughed, unable to keep a straight face.
“Yes, not for real, but also kinda?” He chuckled nervously, “Will you, Y/n Y/l/n, take me, Steve Harrington’s hand in marriage? In probably about a year or so from now??”
“You are ridiculous.”
He tsked, “That’s not an answer.”
“What are my options?”
“Yes, and uh.. Oh yeah, yes.”
“God, lots of decisions to think over.”
You smiled down at him, holding out your left hand. “Steve Harrington, yes, I will marry you.”
“Fuck yeah.” He cheered, slipping the weed onto your finger. With the yellow flower against your skin, all you could think about was his bouquet of dandelions he brought you when you were a kid.
“Come here.” You whispered, dragging him back up with you. Your lips meet his. This kiss was different than the first; this was hot and heavy. Your mouth opened, letting his tongue explore. You straddled his hips, pinning him down as best you could while the two of you bounced with every movement.
“Baby.” He groaned, your lips trailing down the side of his neck.
“Hmm?” You hummed, your hand crawling under his shirt. Finally touching the rough patch of hair you dreamed about. His soft stomach underneath your palm.
“Don’t think there’s anyone in the woods with a camera, do you?” He asked, making you fall off of him in a fit of giggles.
“Oh, that’s fucked up.”
“Sorry, I had to.” He threw his hands up, “I mean, weirdly, he’s a cool guy. He and Nancy make a good couple.”
“I think we make a better couple.” You cheesed, pressing another kiss to his lips. Then another, and another. You’d never get sick of it.
“I agree.” He laughed in between kisses. “I also think we should take this upstairs.”
You met his hungry eyes, taking his hand in yours, letting him lead the way. This was one of those times you were thankful for Steve’s rich parents. His room was upstairs on the other end of the house from everyone else.
You had been in Steve’s rooms countless times, even slept in his bed more times than your own. But suddenly it was real; none of this was some dream you found yourself lost in. He was right here in front of you, his hands leading you to his bed.
“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He spoke calmly, nerves radiating off of you. You looked up at him, the hunger in his eyes matching your own.
“I want this,” You whispered, “I want you.” With every fiber of being, this was all you wanted.
The rest was a blur, messy kisses, hushed moans, and trembling hands as clothes floated to the floor. He hesitated against your bra strap, staring deep into your eyes when the clasp came undone. Pulling it off your body as he was unwrapping a delicate vase.
“You,” His mouth went dry, his eyes still on yours. “Are the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”
You were burning alive for him. His hands touched you gently, his thumbs rubbing over your peaked buds. With each gasp that left your lips, Steve watched, memorizing every single touch that left you reeling.
“This okay?” He whispered, his face leaning down into your ribcage.
“Yes, Please.”
This was all he needed, his lips trailing wet kisses down your sternum. His tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, flattening before he took it into his mouth, Sucking ever so softly, while his other hand gripped your other tit, massaging the flesh.
“Oh my god.”
You could barely breathe, the pressure between your legs growing with each wet trail of his tongue. He pulled off with a lewd pop, his lips glossy. He didn’t stop there, his kisses trailing down your stomach, until he was perfectly settled between your hips. Arms caging your body in.
“How are you feeling?” Ever the worrier, Steve was going to stop every few seconds, asking if you were okay. Your body was trembling underneath his, in anticipation and nerves.
“Good. I love you.” You panted, his fingers curling in the sides of your underwear.
“Gonna take these off now, that okay?”
You frantically nodded, lifting your hips for him. When he threw them alongside the pile of your other clothes, your legs fell shut on impulse.
He looked up at you, a silent question in his eyes.
“C-can you take your shirt off?” You asked, feeling underdressed. He flung the shirt off quicker than you’ve ever seen before, smiling wildly at you. His bare skin was warm against your legs as he settled himself back in position, hands gripping your thighs.
“Open up for me, honey.”
You let out an embarrassed squeal, “Wait.”
Steve paused, watching your face scrunch with nerves. “S’what wrong?”
“I’ve never…” You trailed off, choking on your embarrassment.
“What?” He asked, taking a minute to put two and two together. He looked down at your clamped legs, and back up to you like he’d seen a ghost.
“Are you serious?” His voice had lowered an octave, hands clenching. “No one’s ever gone down on you.”
“They all said it was g-gross. So I didn’t bother you, know?” You flushed, “You don’t have to.”
He stopped you, unclenching his jaw. “Gross? Baby, I have every right mind to go track them down and beat their ass.”
A squeak escaped your lips, “You’re hot when you’re mad.”
“I am mad, mad because there’s no reason any of those men deserved you. I’ve been wanting to get my mouth on you for years, and they just-” He cut himself off, hand rubbing small circles on your calf. “Baby, do you want me to go down on you?”
You nodded sheepishly, “Just nervous.”
“Don’t be. You just talk to me, okay? If there’s anything you don’t like, anything you want. Need you to promise you’ll tell me.”
“Okay, yeah. Promise.” You leaned back, bracing yourself on his pillows.
“Good.” He grabbed your tights gently, “Open up for me, pretty girl.”
You obliged, letting your legs fall open for him. A shock went through you at the sensation of your wet cunt hitting the cold air. Steve’s eyes were locked on you. Practically drooling at the sight of you.
“Gorgeous.” He babbled, pressing kisses up and down your inner thighs. “You’re so fucking gorgeous. Gonna put my mouth on you, okay?”
You nodded, your body jerking the moment his wet mouth came down on your clit. He took it slow, letting his tongue draw circles over you. You were over the moon, letting out choked moans of his name. You didn’t know it would feel this good.
His tongue flattened, teasing your entrance before suckling your clit into his mouth. He ate you out like a man starved, moaning against you. The sensations had your legs shaking, overwhelmed by new feelings that licked up your spine.
“Steve..”
“How’s it feel, baby?” He panted, your wetness covering the bottom half of his mouth when he came up for air. His hand curled around to your entrance.
“S’good. Bab,y it feels so good.” You basically sobbed, your cunt welcoming in his thick fingers. Stretching you out with each curl of his fingertips. His mouth wrapped around you, and that was all it took; your back arched off the bed. Grinding into his mouth messily as you came. He held your hips still, stroking out each morsel of your orgasm. Sweat clung to your forehead, your chest rising and falling quickly.
“I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard.” You sighed dreamily. Steve had a shit-eating grin on his face, wiping his face on his discarded shirt before crawling back up your body. His lips met yours, kissing you deeply. You could taste yourself on his tongue, moaning weakly when he pulled apart.
“I will do that all day, every single day.” He swore between kisses. His hips pressed against yours; the only thing separating you two was the thin fabric of his boxers. You could feel his hard length pressed against you.
“Can I return the favor?” Your teeth came down to bite your bottom lip, wanting nothing more than to run your tongue down his happy trail straight to his cock.
“Another time?” He smiled, speaking before you frowned, “I need to feel you.”
“Just for a second?” You pleased, giving him your best doe eyes. He knew he could never say no to you. His boxers were pulled off, his cock slapping against his stomach. He was huge; your mouth salivated at the idea of wrapping your mouth around his pulsating tip. He fumbled around in his drawer, holding up a condom in his hand like it was a winning lottery ticket. He lay next to you on the bed, letting you switch positions.
Your hand wrapped around him slowly, barely fitting. He gritted his teeth before you could fully pump him. The length twitching in your hand.
“O-okay, baby-” He winced, his head hitting the headboard when your lips wrapped around him. Licking the precum off of him, savoring the salty taste of him. His hips jerked up, his cock sliding into your mouth deeper.
“Fuck, okay, nope. Nope.” He hissed, gently pulling you off of him. This time, it was your turn to have a shit-eating grin on your face.
“What? Can’t handle it?” You teased, squealing when he gripped your hips. Flipping you back onto your back with a thump.
“Nope, my girl has a perfect fucking mouth,” He smirked, “But I wanna feel this pretty pussy more.”
Your core throbbed at his words, hips rutting against the air for relief. He sat up between your legs, sliding the condom over his length.
“Ready?” He asked, to which you nodded frantically.
“Yeah, baby.”
His tip circled your entrance a few times, spreading your wetness around for him. Before he braced himself, sliding himself in slowly. Your hands found his shoulders, fingers creating half-moon indentations as you welcomed the stretch.
“Doing so well.” He praised, pressing kisses up and down your neck and chest. “Taking me so well. So fucking tight for me.”
When his hips bottomed out against yours, tears sprang in your eyes. You were so full, emotions overwhelming you.
He noticed your eyes fluttering shut, his hand moving to cradle your cheek. “Eyes on me. Eyes on me.” He cooed.
You were scared, so scared you’d open them, and it was just another dream. “I’m real. I’m here.” He reassured, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks. They fluttered open again, and you stared at your brown-eyed lover. Drinking him in, every freckle, every imperfection. You wanted to count his eyelashes and memorize the patterns in his irises.
“I love you.” Your voice was raw, the words spilling out heavier than ever before. Despite the countless times the two of you said those three words to each other over the years, this was the one that meant the most. That held the most weight. It carried every emotion you’ve pushed down over the past decade. Now it poured out of you, oozing from your very being.
His smile was infectious: “I love you so much.” Another kiss on your lips. Something you’d never get sick of, his plump lips against yours. Moving with a passion that can only be built from years of secret glances and repressed feelings.
You both moved as if the other was going to slip through your hands like water. Hands frantic, but focused. Memorizing every bit of each other’s bodies as your body welcomed him in.
“You can move.” You sighed, the discomfort turning into pleasure. He did an experimental rock of his hips, hitting a spot deep inside you that had you mewling.
“Oh, already, baby?” He cooed, using the hand that wasn’t propped up to rub circles on your cheek with his thumb.
“S’deep.” You slurred, with each expert movement, your body was on fire. The wet sounds of him dragging in and out of your cunt only fueled the burning. The bed creaked when he sped his movements up.
“I love you. I love you.” Steve grunted, his fair falling meassily on his forehead. His eyebrows scrunched up, staring down at you, watching you come apart underneath him. Committing every second to memory.
Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him even closer if that was possible. His thick patch of hair sits above his cock, rubbing deliciously against your clit, his tip hitting your cervix as he fucked into you.
“I’m gonna cum. Baby gonna cum.” You whined, feeling the tension coil deep in your gut. Steve nodded with a grunt, grabbing your legs and spreading them wide. The new angle had you screaming his name, his fingers rubbed your clit messily while you spasmed around him. Coming so hard your ears began to ring, legs shaking in his hold.
He fucked you through it, keeping you spread wide for him. “That’s it. Take this cock, baby. Feels good? Feels so good.” He muttered, his hips stuttering.
“Come inside me,” You babbled mindlessly, paying no mind to the condom between you two.
“Oh fuck.” Steve gasped, emptying his load into the condom with a gasp. Falling slack against your body with each twitch of his cock inside you.
Your hands curled in his hair, his panting breaths hitting your chest as the two of you came down. Relishing in the sounds of each other’s breathing, and his skin on yours.
After a while, he pulled out of you with a hiss, disposing of the condom and cleaning the two of you up. He crawled back into bed, beckoning you to lie on his chest.
You didn’t hesitate, curling yourself up against him. Letting his hands find your scalp, massaging your head. You cooed into him.
“Penny for your thoughts?” You sighed dreamily, Steve’s fingers expertly combing through your hair.
“My thoughts are worth more than a penny.” He teased, making you roll your eyes at him.
“I have a kiss, take it or leave it.”
“Oh, I’m taking it alright.” He leaned down, pecking your lips gently.
“Okay, pay up.” You ordered, letting his hands go back to caressing your scalp.
“Just thinking about you. Our future.” He hummed, like it was the simplest thing in the world.
You sat up a little, “Oh yeah?”
“Oh yeah, big house. You’ll have a garden out back. We’ll have a pool. So I can watch you lounge outside while I grill. A couple of dogs running around, maybe ten kids?”
“You’re out of your mind, Stevie.” You gasped.
“Okay, what about six?” He compromised, pulling his face down to yours once again.
“Maybe let’s slow down, become real adults first. Then… yeah, maybe I’ll give you a couple kids.”
He smirked. “I knew it.”
Your mind conjured up images of little versions of you and Steve running around. Growing up alongside the battalion of aunts and uncles downstairs.
“You’re gonna have to buy a minivan if you want that many kids. Can you imagine us taking home a baby in the beamer?”
“Our first two babies are definitely coming home in the beamer, babe. It’s when we get to 3, then we need to start looking into minivan territory.”
“If you’re doing the heavy lifting...” You shrugged, imagining Steve in dad jeans. Pulling carseats out of his car. Your children running around the two of you. Family dinners, vacations, and the stable parents that neither of you were afforded growing up.
“Of course.” He scoffed, not believing you’d think otherwise.
“Guess we gotta find better jobs to support this million-dollar idea, huh?” You laughed, Steve pausing for a minute.
“God, I guess you’re right.” He slumped, trying not to think too hard about the stress of that lingering on top of his shoulders.
“Hey,” You whispered, “It’s all gonna work out, we have each other. That’s all that really matters.”
“Yeah.” He smiled wistfully, “You haven’t been able to get rid of me this long, don’t even try now, babe.”
Summary: The bond should have been a blessing. For Azriel, it was a sentence. For you, a heartbreak you never saw coming.
Part I. Part II.
Tags: enemies to lovers, angst
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Injury, blood, arguing!
Author's Note: This is the final part, I hope you guys enjoy! Stay tuned for new fics <3
𓆩 ❦ 𓆪 ───────────────── 𓆩 ❦ 𓆪
The mission is simple on paper: slip through the forest that hems the Illyrian border, find the smugglers’ woodland, chart the patrol routes, retrieve a set of coded ledgers.
No glory, no heroics. In and out. Rhys called it a "two-person job," and then looked very pointedly at Cassian until Azriel said he’d go.
You didn’t volunteer to hurt him. You volunteered because you’re good at this. Because you remember the map of these mountains in your bones. Because even after everything, you still move better when you’re watching the world with Azriel at your shoulder.
Except he isn’t at your shoulder anymore. He’s a pace behind or a pace away, presence like a draft under a door—there, but never where it warms you.
The forest keeps your secrets because that’s what forests do. Pines rise in cathedral columns, birds singing in the cold. Far above, a hawk writes cursive in the blue. Your boots crunch and slip on old needles; Azriel’s footsteps don’t make a sound.
You remember when they did. When both of you were smaller and Velaris was a playground stitched of wind and laughter. When a scraped knee meant Azriel’s hands, gentle and sure, and not this distance that feels like a punishment you forgot how to earn.
The forest glows amber under the late sun, every pine needle catching light. It smells of sap and cold iron. You duck beneath a low branch, finger tracing the etched runes carved into its bark.
"Don’t touch that," Azriel says from behind you—always behind you.
You keep your hand there anyway, tracing the groove until the rune flickers faintly. "Relax. It’s dormant."
"You don’t know that."
"I do now." You wipe your fingers on your trousers and keep walking.
A sigh, sharp and quiet. "You act like you’re trying to set something off."
"Maybe I am."
The path narrows. He moves closer, shadow and restraint wrapped tight. Every word from him is careful, measured; every one of yours is a spark you can’t stop striking. It’s easier to be angry than to think about what used to live in the silence between you.
"You shouldn’t lead," he says finally. "If the wards react—"
"Then I’ll deal with them."
"That’s not your job."
"Then stop making it yours."
His jaw flexes. "Rhys sent us to observe, not improvise."
"Rhys sent us. Plural." You glance back, meeting his eyes. "Or did you forget I’m capable of more than following?"
"I didn’t forget." The quiet edge in his voice cuts deeper than shouting. "You keep reminding me you don’t need anyone until you prove you do."
You stop. The forest hums, waiting.
"That supposed to mean something?"
He folds his wings in tighter, expression unreadable. "It means I’m tired of dragging you out of trouble you invent."
Anger flares hot and clean. "You think I invent trouble?"
"I think you attract it like it’s a competition."
"Right," you snap. "Because nothing pleases you more than being the one to save me."
"That’s not what I—"
"You’d miss it," you hiss, turning on him. "If I stopped giving you reasons to be the martyr, you’d have to look at your own damn mess for once."
The words hang there, raw and ringing.
His eyes flash—hurt, fury, something worse.
"You have no idea," he says, voice roughening, "what it’s like trying to keep up with you. You run headfirst into chaos and expect someone else to bleed for it."
"Someone else," you echo, heartbeat stuttering. "You mean you."
He doesn’t deny it.
"Then don’t follow me," you bite out. "I didn’t ask you to."
"I don’t have a choice," he snaps, the restraint finally breaking. "Someone has to clean up after you."
The silence after that is absolute.
You stare at him, throat tight, chest hollowing around the words.
He still looks angry, still breathing hard—hasn’t realised yet how deep he cut.
"So that’s what I am to you," you say quietly. "A burden to manage."
He opens his mouth, shuts it again, anger still clinging like armour. "If that’s what it takes to keep you alive—"
A whisper of air, a hiss of string.
The arrow slices the space between you and buries itself in your side.
There’s a breath where the world is polite enough to pause. You look down, not understanding, at the shaft sticking out from beneath your ribs. Blood finds the air, bright and sure.
Azriel moves before your mind catches up.
"Down," he breathes, hands already on you, the word a command wrapped in prayer. He lowers you to the mossed trunk of a fallen pine. The bark is cold through your coat. Your body remembers gravity just in time to keep you from pitching face-first.
Pain arrives like a bell rung too close to the ear. It turns everything white and edges the white with black. You taste metal. You try to stand. Your knees forget how.
"Stay," Azriel says, and his voice is the one soldiers obey, the one you’ve obeyed since bruised-kneed days in a different sun. "Breathe."
"Az—" Your mouth is dry.
"Stay." He doesn’t look at you when he says it. He’s already turned, wings flaring, shadows boiling out of him like a night you could drown in.
They come out of the trees as if the trees grew them: lean, fast, hooded, hands on bows and short blades. The first blinks, finding Azriel much closer than his mind prepared for. He doesn’t blink again. Shadows loop his wrists. A knife’s edge kisses his throat and then moves on.
The second goes for your other side. Az’s wing snaps, a shield, an arrow ripping through membrane with a sound that makes you sick. He doesn’t make a noise. He steps into the third, elbow into nose, heel into knee; the body falls wrong and stays there.
You try to rise again because you trained to. Because he taught you to. Because you’ve never been the one who stayed down. Pain tears you back and leaves you sweating, breath scraping your throat. The bark bites. You press your palm around the base of the arrow to keep it from shifting. The world swims. Azriel is a moving constellation at the edge of it, a star map you know by muscle more than sight.
"Left," you rasp when you see the fourth flank, your voice too thin. He pivots without looking, blade shrugging off a blow, his shadows rearing and taking the fifth like a wave.
The sixth and seventh think they can go around him. They can’t. No one gets past. Not with you at his back and blood on your lips. He becomes something old and winged and terrible.
When it’s quiet again, it’s too quiet. The birds hold their breath. The air stills.
Az turns and drops to his knees in front of you so fast it looks like he’s falling. "Look at me."
You do. You have never wanted to more.
He pulls out a small knife, some clean bandages, and a vial that smells of mint and copper. His hands are steady. His mouth isn’t.
"Through-and-through?" he asks, already bracing you.
You shake your head; it makes your stomach pitch. "Can’t—feel an exit."
"Of course," he mutters with grim gentleness. "Why would anything be easy."
"I am going to break this arrow," he says, a quiver in his voice, "and get it out without shredding your insides. Then I am going to get you out of this woods. You are going to keep your eyes on me and breathe. Got it?"
"You snapped your wing," you say, because the tear runs like a dark river through the membrane. Blood beads. "Idiot."
"I’ve been called worse." His mouth flickers—almost a smile, broken quickly. "This will hurt."
"I know." You catch his wrist. "Don’t leave me."
His breath stutters. "Never."
Azriel braces one hand flat against your ribs to hold you steady, one hand around the arrow’s fletching. He counts you into it, voice low, the way he’s counted you into leaps and throws a thousand times before. He promises the count of three and snaps the shaft clean when he gets to two, and you see stars. The sound that tears out of your throat doesn’t belong to manners or pride. The forest swallows it anyway.
"Good," he says roughly. "Good. With me." He slides the broken length free and then, with a controlled, brutal tenderness, levers the barbed head out the other side. Your vision goes high and thin and strings itself on that same gold light from the canopy.
His voice keeps you tethered. With me. With me. Breathe.
There’s blood everywhere. He packs the wound with herbs from his pockets, pours the mint-copper sting of antiseptic and binds you with bandage and shadow both, his power a cool thing pressing gently to keep you from spilling.
His hands hover, finally, suspended a breath above your skin like he’s not sure what he’s allowed to touch.
You let out something like a laugh, wrecked and wet. "There. I failed."
His gaze snaps up, dangerous. "Don’t."
"You said I would."
"I said that to make you stop," he says, and now the composure shreds, voice fraying. "I said it because I didn’t know what else to say that would keep you—gods, just—" He swallows, breath stumbling. "You don’t get to make jokes about dying."
"Who’s joking?" Your mouth tastes like iron and stubbornness. The truth jumps to your tongue and you’re too tired to cage it. "Maybe you’d finally get what you want."
"What I—" He looks stunned. "Do you honestly think I want a world with you not in it?"
"You left me," you whisper, because the arrow loosened something that isn’t blood and it’s everything’s now spilling out. "You took my best friend and turned him into a stranger. Now every time I breathe wrong you flinch like I’m a sin. How else am I supposed to read that?"
He lowers his gaze. "I never left you."
"You made sure I couldn’t find you."
"I was right there," he says, and the floor gives way in his voice. He reaches for you without touching. "I’ve been right there the whole time."
"Like a ghost," you whisper.
"Because I couldn’t," he snaps, and the snap breaks on something that isn’t anger. "Because if I said it, it would be real, and if it was real, I would lose you."
"You already did!"
He looks like you stabbed him and maybe you did. "Don’t," he says softly. "Please don’t."
"Then say it," you push, because the world narrowed to a ring of bark and bandage and this man and you refuse to leave it full of lies. "Say what you’ve been burying. Say why you won’t stand beside me and why your eyes beg me not to breathe and why you keep breaking us. Say it, Azriel."
His control, exquisite and cruel, fails.
"You want honesty?" He’s shaking., shadows lifting like wings in a storm. "Fine. I don’t trust the ground under my feet when you’re not on it. I can’t sleep if I don’t hear your breath in the house. I count your steps in a crowd without meaning to. Every time you go somewhere I can’t follow I track the wind like a starving thing—" He breaks, drags air like it hurts. "And I can’t watch you die."
"You don’t get to decide that," you whisper. "You don’t get to decide me."
He makes a sound you’ve never heard from him, raw and furious and terrified. "You’re my mate."
You go very, very still.
The word is a blade and a balm. It is the thing that has been burning a hole behind your ribs for months, years, maybe always. It is the reason everything hurt in exactly this shape.
You think of docks, the first knife he taught you to throw, the fever and the tea and the chair set two inches closer to your bed every morning. You think of every time you thought he hated you because it was easier than this.
"Oh," you breathe, and the sound is a thousand doors opening.
Azriel looks like he expects you to run. Or strike. Or both. His hands hang helpless and steady and useless over your skin. His shadows are a trembling animal, waiting to be beaten.
"You didn’t tell me," you say, and the accusation is so small, so simple.
"I couldn’t," he says. "Rhys asked me to stay away. I—agreed. I thought if I could make you hate me, you’d be safe from me. From…this." He gestures at himself, like he is a geography of knives.
"I never hated you," you say, and that’s another door opening, and then another, until the air is bright with it. "Gods, Az. I tried."
He makes a wounded sound. "I know."
"I thought you hated me."
"I tried," he says, hoarse. "I failed."
Even injured, you manage a breath of laugh that is half a sob. "Good."
He stares, helpless, as if he can’t quite translate that into a language he trusts. "Good?"
"Good," you say again, and then you hook your fingers into the collar of his leathers and pull.
The kiss is not gentle. It was never going to be. It breaks and remakes and names and unnames in the same breath. It tastes like copper and mint and the years you lost and the ones you might yet salvage. His hands finally, finally touch you: one cradling your jaw like it’s a holy thing, one braced around your ribs so tenderly, holding the bandage, holding you, as if he can be both anchor and light.
His shadows, traitorous and adoring, curl around you both like a shawl. The forest exhales. Somewhere a bird remembers its song.
When you part, it’s because breath is necessary and you’d like to keep some. Your foreheads rest together. His eyes are very close and very bright.
"I’m here," he whispers, like he has to say it aloud to make it true. "I’m here. I’m sorry I wasn’t the way you needed me to be."
You breathe him in like relief. "Then be it now."
"I will." No vow has ever sounded truer in his mouth. "You’re not expendable. You never were. If I ever say it again—"
"You won’t," you say, and for once you see the smile make it all the way to his eyes.
He shifts carefully, testing the bandage. "We need to move. Slowly. I’ll carry you if you let me."
"I’ll let you," you murmur, surprising both of you with how easy the words come. "But only because I want to, not because you decided."
"Yes. Only because you want to." He stands, then bends and lifts you with a care that rearranges the axis of the world. You fit against him like there were measurements taken. His wing—torn, aching—curves anyway, a stubborn shelter. The pain hums under your skin, but the panic has gone out of it. There’s a tether between you now that hums louder.
"Az?" you say as he begins to pick his way through the trees, each step a promise.
"Yes?"
"When we get home," you murmur, drowsy with blood loss and suddenly, wonderfully, safe, "you’re going to sit with me by the Sidra. And you’re going to tell me everything you didn’t say. Every time you thought of me and didn’t. Every tea and book and night."
"All of it," he says, a vow laid on the bright air. "As many nights as it takes."
"And you’re going to let me hold your hand in daylight."
His laugh is a low, broken thing you want to keep. "I will fail spectacularly at pretending I don’t want that."
"Good," you whisper, letting your eyes fall shut as the rhythm of his heart steadies under your ear. "Fail at that."
He presses his mouth to your hair and keeps walking. The forest opens for him.
By the time the trees thin and the mountains unspool into the valley, the bleeding has slowed to a throb and your head has found the place beneath his collarbone that fits. His shadows keep pace, flicking ahead, circling back.
"Az?" you ask one more time, because there’s a part of you that needs to keep testing the ground to make sure it’s still there.
"Yes," he says, and his voice is warm enough to live in. "I’m not going anywhere."
"Good," you say again, softer. "Because I fall a lot."
His arms tighten, just a fraction. "I know," he says, the smile in it something you recognize from long ago and will have again. "I’m the softest place you’ll ever land."
"Arrogant."
"Confident."
"Mine," you say, eyes closing, not a question.
"Yours," he answers, and the word settles everywhere the pain doesn’t. "And you are mine."
The path turns toward home. The light follows you like it has decided you are worth the trouble. Far behind, the forest holds its silence around the place where the arrow fell and mercy stood up and said its name.
You sleep in his arms, and when you wake, it will be to tea on the bedside table, and a chair pulled close, and a hand you don’t have to ask for at last.
It is not the end of the danger or the ache or the work it takes to be brave. But it is the end of pretending.
It is, finally, the softest place to fall.
End.
𓆩 ❦ 𓆪 ───────────────── 𓆩 ❦ 𓆪
TAGLIST:
@batgirliee
@peachyxlynch @whyucloudingmymind
@nialleryooo @historygeekqueen
IF YOU WISH TO BE INCLUDED IN A PERMANENT TAGLIST FOR ALL MY WRITINGS, LET ME KNOW! <3
THANKS FOR READING EVERYONE!
Like Steve Harrington? These authors are for you. Here is a list of authors that I've followed or read in the most recent year or two.
* - personal favorite
@andvys *
my personal favorite. this author may have inspired this list. i've followed all their stories. my personal favorite being "dancing with our hands tied." i personally want to pay them to write a fic lol
@lovebugism
has great mini blurbs/one shots. favorite is "please please please"
@piece0fgarbag
has a mini masterlist so far but great smut. my favorite one is "dustin's sister"
@iheartyouyou *
has a great series that is ongoing called "doubts." very angsty and very much pining.
@raven-dor
some of my favorite one-shots
@munsonsreputation *
"the very first page not where the storyline ends."
@taintedcigs *
hardest of hearts & fall into pieces
@roanofarcc
eighteen months & the babysitter
@simping4fictional
steve x henderson reader & stuck with me
@luveline *
literally everything!
@harringtonsdiary
lessons in chemistry (series)
@pankowcrumbs
six little nuggets x steve harrington
@sexwithnocondom
silver stars
@nostarfights
it's not a question now
@stevesgother
when the sun hits, chalkboard hearts, from now on (our troubles will be miles away)
Summary: You’re in love with Steve and Robin says he feels the same way back. So why does Steve keep on choosing Nancy Wheeler over you? Why is he trying so hard to impress her?
Pairings: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
Warnings: ANGST, heartbreak, cuss words, a little rude Steve, maybe more idkk SET IN SEASON 5 SO SPOILERS
a collection of one-shots where steve falls for the new girl in town
part 1 ✿ new neighbour
steve is down because of his dating life, or lack thereof. that is until the new girl captures his attention
part 2 ✿ built to last
steve was just supposed to help you build a bookshelf. he definitely wasn’t supposed to have this much fun doing it
part 3 ✿ for you? always
you’re unravelling, badly, but steve refuses to let you fall apart alone
part 4 ✿ stay for dinner?
a stupid conversation, past insecurities, and a boy who thinks he isn’t enough—until you show him he always was
part 5 ✿ never second best 18+
after a run-in with his ex, steve reassures you that you'll never be second best, proving it in a way he knows will stick
part 6 ✿ jealous much? 18+
steve may not be the jealous type, but when he sees someone else eyeing his girl, he’s more than happy to remind you exactly who takes care of you the best
part 7 ✿ unrecognisable
steve's father gets in his head, and he takes it out on the one person who has only ever asked him to love her
part 8 ✿ aftermath 18+
wrecked by the thought that he’d lost you for good, steve braced himself for the worst. but your answer shattered him in a way he never saw coming
and you say once we're sober, we should just forget (18+)
summary: one time turns into two, two into three, three into four, and so on.. but it means nothing.
title from: "drinking games" by Sophie Cates
word count: 14.3k of filth my loves <3
content warnings: smut MDNI!! alcohol consumption, mentions of recreational smoking, afab genitalia, reader referred to with different pet names (honey, baby, sweetheart), petting/making out, maybe dubcon?? reader has a panic attack, vaginal fingering, angst, p in v sex, unprotected sex (please use condoms), m receiving handjob, cumplay/eating?
side note: edited/beta'd by my beloved olive! who also gave me some ideas for this, give her many smooches! also don't ask me when this takes place, i don't know, i just know they're in college maybe probably
Lip Gallagher has been your best friend since middle school.
He was easily one of the smartest kids in your year, so he was the obvious choice to ask for help on your homework. What you didn't expect was for him to offer to do all of your homework in exchange for cash.
Once you made it clear to him, you wanted to actually be able to do your homework and refused his offer (to his dismay and disbelief). In his finite wisdom he briefly thought you were going to offer a different form of repayment. When it became clear you weren't going to do that either, Lip was kind of at a loss. You both eventually came to the agreement that you would just meet at the library and work there, you being allowed to ask for help on something you didn't understand and him to work on other peoples homework in peace.
This dynamic went on for the two years you were in middle school and evolved once you reached high school. The Gallagher clan welcomed you with open arms when you started coming around more frequently and the dynamic was quickly established to include you in their family. They were sympathetic to your absent family and made sure to make it known you were welcome in their home no matter what. Your acceptance into the family only strengthened your bond with Lip through the years.
Even through shitty girlfriends (on his part) and tragic, almost-relationships (on your part), you had been attached at the hip for it all.
So it felt like a given when he finally decided what college to go to and you followed. It was the natural course of your relationship. One made a choice, and the other followed, no questions asked. That meant you had front row seats to his relationships with Amanda and Helene.
It stopped being your place to comment on Lips sexual relationships when you told him he should stop seeing Karen and when he found out you personally hadn't had a single sexual experience with anyone.
His reaction to your counseling caused a brief rift between the two of you. Lip had been frustrated with the conversation and stopped talking to you. You stopped talking to him for longer because of his decision that you couldn't give him advice, like a friend, simply because you hadn't slept with anyone the way he had.
Eventually, Lip came all but begging on your doorstep.
You never went more than 4 days in a fight. One of you always returned to the other with an apology in tow.
So when it had been a week and a half with no change, Lip started to get antsy. Fiona and Ian had been questioning him about it, and it was grating on his already frayed nerves.
Lip was desperate when it reached two weeks of not hanging out and his siblings asking about you. So, he took the hit to his pride and knocked on your door the night it reached two weeks. Your mom always worked the night rotations which gave you the house to yourself.
When the knock came that night you hoped it was a mistake and someone was knocking on the wrong door, or that they would go away.
They didn't.
Lip was nothing if he wasn't stubborn. So he persists on knocking on your door two more times, each time more aggressive than the last.
Once the third round of knocks stopped, you got up and peeked through the peephole. When you see Lip standing on the doorstep you're almost inclined to not open the door. But the tug at your heart when you see his hands stuffed in his coat pockets and collar pulled up to his ears has you unlocking the door before you can think about it.
"Fuckin' finally..." He mutters when he sees you in the doorway. His nose and cheeks are rosy, making his eyes look brighter. Lip slips inside both you can say anything and you're closing the door behind him out of habit.
"What are you doing here?" You cross your arms as Lip starts to peel off his gloves.
"Needed t'see you.. We need to talk.." He's shrugging off his jacket and tucking his gloves in with it.
You raise your eyebrows at him. He huffs a little and retreats further into the house, placing his jacket on the back of the couch. You have no choice but to follow him, if you want to hear this apology. Seeing Lip begin to fidget makes you nervous.
"I shouldn't- um- I shouldn't of made a- I was a dick." The way you scoff makes Lip glance at you. "It doesn't matter if you've never sleep with someone, I mean- I don't want you to- I don't not want you to just-"
His words make you raise your eyebrows again, he's starting to fumble his way through this apology.
"Whatever. I was a dick, I shouldn't of made such a big deal about whether or not you've fucked anybody. 'S not my business and you were just lookin out f'me. So.... I'm sorry.." He mumbles the last two words just barely under his breath.
Your brow is furrowed as you try and parcel through his apology. You don't get very long before he mutters, "Fuck it.."
Lip gives you very little time to react when he pulls you into a sloppy kiss. Your stomach twists as he brings his thumb to pull gently at your bottom lip. You let him take control of the kiss very easily.
He kisses you needily, eliminating any possible space between you both. You gasp softly into his mouth, grabbing onto Lip's shirt to keep you grounded. Lip's hands make their way from your face down to your hips, gently guiding you around to the other side of the couch.
Lip breaks the kiss to sit down and pulls you to straddle his lap. You bring your hands to rest on his shoulders to steady yourself. The feeling of something hard nudging against your core makes you inhale sharply.
The sharp ache of arousal isn't unfamiliar to you, however you've always had the chance to deal with it by yourself. It was also a feeling you had come to know whenever you would hang out with Lip since the summer.
Lip slides his hands up from where they were resting above your knees to guide your hips to roll over his bulge. The feeling pulls a surprised moan from your mouth that causes him to give you a smug look.
Your face feels flush as you bite down on your lip to keep yourself quiet. He brings his hand up to cradle your face softly, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.
"This gonna be okay?" Lip whispers softly.
You nod a bit too quickly, rolling your hips softly to get some form of friction.
"Words, honey," Lip taps your cheek softly with his thumb.
"Yes," You nod again. "Yes, please, Lip."
"So polite," Lip whispers, placing a chaste kiss to your lips.
Lip takes his hand away from your face to take your hand from where it rests on his shoulder to the front of his jeans. He does the work of unbuttoning and unzipping for you, before he guides your hand to his waistband. He's gentle in the way he coaxes your fingers past the elastic and to the base of him.
You can feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, his hand is firm in the way it manipulates your hand around his shaft.
It's a tight fit in Lip's boxers. With both of your hands on his cock there's not much room to move. Your fingertips barely touch each other when they're wrapped around it that it leaves you a little dumbfounded.
"Can't uh- Can't move my hand..." You whisper, searching his face for some form of guidance.
Lip huffs before he removes his hand from yours. With his hand out of his boxers you have a little bit more wiggle room.
"Gonna have to listen to me for this one..." Lip's voice sounds strained, a flush working it's way up his neck. You nod, adjusting your hand slightly. Lip groans at the feeling and it makes you pause.
The way your eyes widen as you watch him intently has Lip fighting to urge to thrust his hips into your hand.
"Are you- That didn't hurt, did it?" You ask him, watching his face for any signs of discomfort.
"Uh-uh..." Lip breathes heavily, shaking his head. "Th-The opposite actually.."
You give an experimental squeeze where your fingers rest against the base of him, watching the way his mouth gapes open and his head falls back against the couch. Watching the way he reacts makes your chest swell with a sense of pride.
To test the waters even more, you move your hand slowly along the rest of him, reaching as far as the fabric of his boxers will let you before going back down to the base.
"Holy shit-" Lip chokes out. "Are y- are y'sure you've never down this before? Oh fuck-"
His hands have moved to gripping the couch cushions as he fights to keep his hips from bucking up into your hand. You nod, taking in the vision of Lip underneath you.
"Just uh- just keep doin, that... And uh.. Move your hand uh up and down it..." Lip mutters, a flush climbing up his neck from under his shirt.
You do as he says, moving your hand down along his cock. The palm of your hand collects the pre-cum that's leaking from the head, smearing it along his shaft as you move your hand back up.
Taking the grunt that Lip lets out as a good sign, you start to quicken your pace. You watch Lip fight back his own moans, softly rutting his hips into your hand.
"Want y'to- to take your thumb and-" Lip inhales sharply. "Take y'thumb and go over the top- fuck- over the head there's a- a slit and-" He cuts himself off with a groan as you follow his instructions.
You collect the pre-cum from the head of his cock and drag it up along him. You watch as his eyes roll into the back of his skull, his neck bared out to you as his head lays back against the cushion.
You're struck with the urge to kiss his neck, to bite softly at the vein along it. You're moving without thinking, licking a stripe along the vein. You can feel the rumble of a groan in his throat.
Encouraged, you bite softly at a spot under his jaw before placing a soft kiss to the spot.
You give an experimental squeeze near the head of Lip's cock, causing him to buck up into your hand. The movement jostles you slightly, making you squeak.
"S-sorry..." Lip pants out. He looks at you through half lidded eyes, his blown pupils surrounded by a thin blue ring. The view makes you adjust your hips slightly.
The way your hand moves feels almost like second nature, picking a pace that has Lip panting and groaning. You try and commit the sounds he's making to memory, wanting to remember them the next time you're by yourself.
It doesn't take you very long to find a combination of movements that has Lip writhing under you. Swiping your thumb over his slit and squeezing the head of his cock softly makes him groan loudly.
It doesn't take too long for Lip to start losing what little restraint he had on himself. He starts thrusting his hips up to meet the movements of your hand, both of you finding a rhythm to move in time.
"Shit- Gonna fuckin'- Can't-" The moan that Lip lets out tears through his chest. His hips give a hard jerk up and you feel the first few strings of his release into your hand. You still your movements, letting him use your hand to work himself through his release.
When you pull your hand from his boxers, you have the overwhelming urge to lick his release off of your fingers. The curiosity of what he tastes like takes over any other thoughts you could have, you can't help yourself.
Lip's chest is heaving as he watches you lick up the expanse of your fingers, collecting his cum off your fingers.
"Holy fuck-" Lip chokes out. He's quick to grab your wrist, pulling your hand away from your mouth and quickly replacing it with his own mouth.
The taste of nicotine and salt is intoxicating. Lip's tongue invades your mouth, and he groans at the taste of your mouth and his release.
"Gonna be the death of me..." Lip pulls away to kiss the edge of your mouth, letting you catch your breath.
His kisses are a poor attempt to distract from the movements of his hand slipping up your thigh, toying with the edge of your sleep shorts. His thumb slips past the hem, nudging softly up against the wet patch in your underwear.
"Look atcha... Fuckin' soaking from givin' me a handy.." Lip mutters against your skin. He can feel the way your skin warms at the comment and it makes him smirk.
Lip bites softly at your jaw as he applies more pressure with his thumb, the friction of the fabric making you whine.
When he removes his hand briefly you instantly miss the warmth from it. However he's quick to slip his hand past your waistband and into your underwear. The tips of his fingers skirt around your pulsing bundle of nerves, dipping lower slightly to tease you.
He gives your clit the briefest ghost of attention, lightly rubbing circles over it.
"Stop teasin'" You whine, pulling away to pout at him. "'S not nice, Lip.."
Your voice sounds pathetic to your own ears but you're too worked up to care right now. Your words give him whatever encouragement he needs as he dips his hand lower.
Lip swipes his fingers through your folds, thoroughly coating him in your arousal. The feeling of his finger prodding at your entrance makes you breathe in sharply. Lip maintains an intense eye contact with you as he slowly starts pushing his finger past your entrance.
The intrusion makes your jaw drop, just one of his fingers thicker than your own. His lips are soft against your jaw, letting you become accustom to the slight stretch. It's not very long until your softly grinding you're hips into his hand.
Lip takes the silent instruction, starting a steady pace of pumping his finger in and out of you. The first withdrawal and thrust is slow, taking care to make sure you're comfortable with the motions. The small tight circles Lip starts to rub against your clit make you gasp, turning your head to place a soft bite against his cheekbone.
The feeling of more of your slick coats Lip's finger as he continues his slow pace. You can feel the tip of his ring finger softly outlining where your two bodies connect. The gentle prodding makes you moan softly next to his ear. Lip groans softly against your neck in response, reveling in the way your walls clench around his finger. The gentle prodding against your hole makes you squirm into the heel of his hand, biting hard on your lip as he applies more pressure to your entrance.
The feeling of both of his fingers slipping into you makes your mind go blank. You can't help the soft moans escaping your mouth, most of them tapering off into high pitched whines. Once he's knuckles deep you're able to find your voice again.
"Please, Lip. Please, please, please," You're babbling at this point. The feeling of both his fingers makes you dizzy. You don't think that you've ever felt so full.
"Look at ya... Already got y'fucked out..." Lip mutters as he kisses softly at your neck.
His pace starts slow again, allowing your body to adjust to the feeling. The stretch feels impossible, your walls clenching around his fingers when he's knuckles deep inside of you.
Lip grinds the heel of his hand against your clit, applying a pressure that has you rutting into his hand. He resumes a similar pace to the one he had started. Both of your bodies work in tune, matching each other's pace.
You're overwhelmed by it all. The feeling of Lip's fingers thrusting in and out of you, his thumb rubbing tight circles against your clit. You're familiar with the knot forming in your stomach, rocking your hips in time with the movements of his hand as you drop your head to his shoulder.
Softly, you trail kisses along Lip's neck. When Lip curls his fingers up against your walls you can't fight the way you bite down on Lip's neck. Above you Lip groans loudly which is enough to have you bucking into his hand as you feel the knot in your stomach unravel.
Lip gently coaxes you through your orgasm, rubbing soft circles against your bundle of nerves. The feeling of your slick slipping out of you as Lip pumps his fingers in and out of you is lewd. You can feel it leaking into your already soaked underwear until his fingers still.
You can't help but whine softly as he slips his fingers out of you. You can feel and hear the movements as Lip brings his hand up to his mouth. The distant ache of arousal reignites in your stomach at the idea of Lip licking your slick off his own fingers.
The both of you sit quietly, catching your breath and collecting your thoughts. Lip's hands move to rest at your hips, rubbing softly at the skin peeking out over your waistband.
"Gotta getcha upstairs," Lip softly pats your ass, making you whine from where you rest against his shoulder.
"Don't wanna.. Mom won't be back till late, anyways..." You bury your face further into Lip's shirt, hoping to convince him to stay on the couch a little longer.
"I know, but gotta get y'taken care of unless you want t'get some sort of infection..." Lip nudges his nose against your hair.
You groan dramatically, slipping off of his lap onto the cushion next to him. "Fine..."
You lead the way upstairs, following Lip's guidance and letting him take you back to your room. He holds you softly, keeping you warm with his own body heat under the covers.
That is the first time Lip tells you it doesn't mean anything.
Lip has not left your side since the two of you walked into this party. He's been attached to your hip the moment the both of you walked through the front door, most of the time keeping a hand on you or within easy reach for him.
Which wouldn't usually be a problem. But usually, he wasn't glowering at every guy who looked in your direction.
"Let's get outta here...." Lip whispers to you, studying the side of your face. He feels impossibly close, facing you with his shoulder against the wall, all you can focus on is the heat his body radiates next to you.
"We just got here?" You shoot him a look before going back to scanning the crowd. People are being stupid and grinding on each other. Everyone is drinking or smoking or doing a mix of both.
"So? Not like we'd be missin' anything.." Lip looks annoyed as he turns to the crowd of people.
Lip had been cranky since you walked in the door. What he was pissed about, you were unsure.
College house parties were commonplace for both of you. One of you would hear about one, and then you'd tag team it.
Lately, you had been receiving more attention from the other party goers. It started with some people complimenting your hair or your outfit, and then eventually, one night, you accidently ran into some guy who barely missed spilling his drink on you. When he looked at your face, he froze with his mouth agape.
"Oh shit... You have really pretty eyes.." His voice is hushed, and you almost struggle to hear him over the music.
You don't have time to process what he's said before you feel Lip's body behind you. "What's goin' on?"
Both you and the stranger are broken out of the moment when you look over your shoulder at Lip.
"Nothin' just ran into him on accident, and he was complimenting my eyes.." You say to him quietly. Lip's brow furrows as he looks at you like that's the stupidest thing he's ever heard.
"...Okay..? Let's go, need a smoke.." Lip tugs at the belt loops on the back of your jeans, attempting to not so subtly pull you away from the other guy.
"Lip, you just had one..." You glance at the other guy quickly before looking back at Lip.
"Yeah, well, all these stupid fuckin' kids are makin' me need another so... Come on.." He tugs at the belt loops again, harder this time.
"It's okay, man, didn't realize you came with a boyfriend.. Sorry for runnin' into ya.." The stranger tries to play mediator, backing away from the both of you.
The insinuation that you and Lip are together makes the both of you pull a face.
"He's not my boyfriend-"
"We're not dating-"
The both of you start at the same time and then stop to look at the other. The both of you are having one of those wordless conversations that weirds people out. The kind where you're both minutely shaking your heads or flicking your hands in a certain direction.
"Oookay... I'm just gonna go.... Have a good time y'guys.." The stranger holds his hands up and walks back into the crowd.
As soon as he's gone, you smack a hand against Lip's chest.
"What the hell? Why'd you have to say we're not dating like that?" You hate the way you sound so offended.
"Cause we're not? It's not that big of a deal, sweetheart." Lip huffs and looks around the crowd to avoid your eyes.
"You made it sound like a big deal." You cross your arms over your chest, pouting at him.
"You're the one who said I'm not your boyfriend. I should be the one gettin' offended." Lip looks at you now and bumps his shoulder against you.
You scoff at him, turning to go find yourselves a drink.
Lip stops you, his fingers still intertwined with your belt loops. "Still need that smoke, sweetheart, come on.."
You roll your eyes and concede with a sigh. "Okay, let's go, y'big baby.."
Lip gives you a cocky grin as he slips his arm around you to hoop his fingers in the loops on your side. He keeps you close the rest of that night, never more than an arms length away.
The parties after that have been something of a similar story. Lip never lets you more than a room out of his reach. It would be so obnoxious if you didn't love having him trail you around.
But after a few too many parties being cut short because Lip doesn't want to hang around anymore, you're starting to get a little cranky yourself.
"Lip, if you want to leave, then go. I don't want to leave at fuckin'-" You look down at your watch, noting how early it is. "Ten pm. That's too early. We've been leaving these earlier and earlier, and I'm missing out on free drinks."
"I can get you free drinks, sweetheart. Come on, I got some weed at home we can go smoke.." Lip teases.
"Lip-" You're starting to get annoyed with him.
He cuts you off, sliding himself to stand between your legs, forcing them apart to make room for him. Lip's not one to mind personal space, but having his hips so close to yours is making your brain short circuit.
"Come on, the beer is trashy, and nothin' fun is happenin'.." Lip mumbles, his eyes searching your face. You can feel yourself giving into him. Your resolve always gives out to him.
You groan and push his hip away to stand up straighter. "Okay, Gallagher. Let's go get that weed you promised.."
Lip grins at you as he grabs your hand. "Knew you'd make the right choice.."
You shake your head as he leads you out of the house. Lip guides you out the front door, off the patio and to the alley between the houses. You're both barely shaded by the shadows of the house, Lip turns to you with a smirk.
"Don't actually have any weed, gave it all to Kev before we left... Was just lookin' for a reason to getcha by yourself.." Lip gives you a grin, putting his hands on your hips to guide you back against the house sliding.
"Lip..." You mutter, glancing down towards the street. Anyone could see you both back here.
"Oh, don't get all shy on me now, baby..." Lip teases you.
"Not getting shy... Just don't think it's a good idea for you to fuck me in an alley where anyone can stumble down here drunk.." You whisper, searching his gaze. Surely he cannot be serious about this.
"We'll be quick.. Need to get my hands on ya..." Lip starts to trail kisses along your jaw, moving down to bite softly at your neck. You whine at the attention, tilting your head to give him more access to kiss the skin.
In order to keep from making too much noise and drawing attention to the both of you, you have to stifle yourself by biting on your lip. The feeling is a sharp contrast to the way Lip slides his thigh between your legs and is guiding your hips against him.
You're mind is so fuzzy you don't notice when Lip moves his hand under your waistband, before giving a sharp tug at your underwear. The action makes you squeal at the feeling of the fabric tugging up against your clit.
The sensations have you clenching around nothing, arching your chest up against Lips. He wastes little time moving his other hand from your hip and sliding it up to grope at your chest.
"Dressed so pretty tonight, sweetheart.." He mutters against your skin, placing a soft bite against your collarbone.
The way Lip is tugging your underwear up tightly against your clit as he grinds you against his thigh is dizzying. You have to press your face against his chest in a poor attempt to keep quiet.
"Fuck- Lip-" Your voice sounds constrained.
"Shh, baby, can't have anyone comin' down here, can we?" Lip's breath against your ear is warm and makes your face flush.
You're really letting him have you ride his thigh in an alley. The thought is a little embarrassing but makes you feel warm at the thought of being caught.
You feel the familiar beginnings of a knot forming low in your stomach. Lip slips his hand past your waistband, dipping his finger past your clit to coat his finger in your slick.
The feeling of his fingers rubbing circles around the bundle of nerves makes you whine and buck up against his hand.
"Lip- Fuck- Not gonna- Jesus Christ.." Your voice is strained as Lip works you to your climax. The feeling of your release is like a wave crashing over you, the knot in your stomach unraveling.
Lip kisses you harshly in an attempt to stifle your moans as he gently rocks you against his thigh, guiding you through your release. Your head rests back against the wall, your chest rising and falling as you try and catch your breath. Lip straightens your shirt and fixes your hair. Once you're presentable, he rubs his hands up and down your arms.
Once you've collected yourself enough, you push off the wall, leaning some of your weight against Lip. He's places a soft kiss at your temple, put his hand on your lower back.
"Come on.." Lip gives you a soft pat to your ass. "We have a party to get back to."
The vodka in your system is making you bold. Your screwdriver is more alcohol than orange juice and it's making you feel warm inside despite it being your first drink of the night.
Lip is across the room, flirting with some northside girl in a tacky pushup bra and a low-cut top.
You're pouting into your cup, near the door between the kitchen and den. He hasn't paid attention to you since you both walked through the door, leaving your side almost immediately.
You're lonely, slightly tipsy, and maybe a little horny. It had been a few weeks since you had last hooked up with Lip, making you miss the feeling of his fingers inside of you and his mouth on your skin.
You can tell that the girl across from him is thinking about the same thing with the fuck me eyes she's giving Lip. It makes your mouth twist in disgust from where you watch. Something makes you push off the wall you were leaning on and your legs begin to carry you towards him.
The girl sees you first as you approach, her eyes flicking to you behind Lip's shoulder before they go back to his face. You barely fight the urge to throw your drink at her.
You reach out to tug on the back of Lip's shirt, bumping your shoulder against his as you stand beside him. He glances at you briefly before he turns his attention back to the girl.
"Lip..." Your voice is whiny the same way a child's would be. "Let's go... 'm bored and want t'go home..."
"Can't you walk yourself home?" Lip tries to brush you off, his annoyance slipping into his tone. "'S not even 11 yet.."
The way his gaze flicks to the girl behind you makes your stomach twist and tears threaten to well up in your eyes.
"You're bein' mean, Lip.." You pout, holding your cup close to your chest. You look down, trying to prevent yourself from crying over something so small.
The way Lip breathes out through his nose tells you he's fighting back an exasperated groan. The action makes you pout at him, forgetting about the audience to your conversation.
"We always go when you wanna go, Lip.. You're not bein' fair..." Your voice is quiet as you try and convince him to leave with you. It's not going to take much more, you can tell by the look in his eyes.
"Please, Lip," You whisper, looking down at your feet. "Wanna go home now..."
You can tell when he makes up his mind. He sighs and then nods, before he takes your cup out of your hand and sets it on the small table a few feet from him.
"Sorry," He mutters to the girl before he grabs your wrist and starts to lead you out of the house.
On your way out, you spot a closet big enough to fit the both of you. Lip grunts in surprise when you grab him by his bicep and drag him towards it.
It's mostly empty, save for a few jackets hanging along the edges. You close the door behind you and push Lip up against it. He looks surprised that you're taking control.
You waste very little time connecting your lips with his. Lip lets you set the pace, which is a heavy one. You slip your hands under the hem of his shirt, hooking your fingers against his waistband to pull his hips flush against your own.
Lip places his hands on your hips, rubbing a thumb over the skin peeking out from under your cropped shirt.
"Please..." You say against his lips. You take Lip's hand and guide it to the button of your jeans. You're embarrassed to admit how badly you want his fingers.
"What was that baby? Don't think I caught that..." Lip teases you as he pulls back from you. The whine you let out only eggs him on. "Can't give you what you want if you don't tell me.."
"Lip.." You whine, guiding his fingers past the waistband of your underwear.
"Gotta tell me what y'want, y'know that... Gotta be a big kid and use your words..." Lip brings his hand up to hold your chin when you start to pout at him.
Your face is flushed as he studies you.
"Want you t'fuck me with your fingers..." You mutter, tugging at his waistband.
"Don't think I heard that one, honey." Lip taps your cheekbone with his middle and ring fingers.
You sigh through your nose before opening your mouth. The moment you do, Lip slips his fingers into your mouth and presses down against your tongue. The intrusion makes you whine as you feel arousal pool in your underwear.
"Getcha to quit whining, finally.." Lip whispers before he starts kissing along your jaw. "Should keep y'like this, two fingers in y'mouth and two in your cunt?"
The filth coming out of his mouth is making you dizzy. You're pliant enough that Lip switches your position, putting your back against the closet door.
He slips his two fingers out of your mouth before quickly replacing them. Lip wastes little time shoving his hand past your waistband, running his already wet fingers along your slit.
"Jesus Christ, baby," Lip mutters. "Already fuckin' soaked, didn't even need my fingers in y'mouth."
The feeling of the tips of his fingers pushing into you makes you inhale deeply. It's filthy the way he's slowly filling you with his fingers, two already in your mouth. Lip groans as you run your tongue in between his fingers.
The moan you release when he's sheathed to his knuckles is muffled but loud enough you're slightly embarrassed. You can feel a flush climbing up your skin as you rut your hips against Lips' hand.
The slow pace he starts is agonizing. Lip makes sure you're writhing in your place before he even thinks about speeding up his fingers. His hand is positioned in such a way that the heel of his hand is rubbing against your clit perfectly.
He's stopped kissing your jaw, seemingly content watching your face as he fucks you. Taking in the way your body responds to him.
It doesn't take long for you to feel the familiar sensation of a knot forming low in your belly. You know when Lip feels your walls clench around his fingers by the way he picks up his pace. That mixed with the way he crooks his finger along your inner wall has you rocking in time with his ministrations.
Lip removes his fingers from your mouth, making you gasp. You're panting like a dog in heat. He lets you catch your breath for a moment before he's kissing you roughly. It's messy enough Lip breaks away from your mouth to place open mouth kisses along your neck.
He times it perfectly. Placing a bite against your pulse and pressing his fingers on the soft spot along your walls. The knot snaps and you have to clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle your moans.
Lip continues to place soft bites and kisses along your neck as he helps you through your orgasm, slowly pumping his fingers in and out to prolong the feeling.
Your legs are shaky as you lean your head forward against Lip's chest, taking in ragged breaths that make your own chest heave. When Lip removes his fingers from you and slips them out of your underwear you can't help but whine at the loss of warmth.
You can feel the way the muscles in his chest move as he turns slightly, finding something for him to wipe his hands on to clean them up.
"Wanna go home now?" Lip whispers in your ear, your forehead still pressed against his chest. You nod, pressing your face into his shirt.
Lip huffs a laugh, wrapping his arm over your shoulder, "Let's get you home, diva.."
"Shut up," You mutter. "You're just as bad.."
Lip scoffs before he places a gentle kiss to the top of your head.
You're not wrong, but neither one of you wants to face that truth. The truth that you have a claim on the other.
The sound of something hitting your window is what wakes you. At first, you think that you had made it up. However, when you hear it again, this time wide awake, you know you didn't make it up.
Your clock reads 1:45 am, and you know there is only one person who would be throwing rocks at your window this late. So, with very little choice, you get out of bed and cross to your window, opening your curtains and pulling up your blinds.
True to your guess, Lip is standing outside of your apartment building. When you lift open your window, you're met with warm air coming into the room. Lip is standing in the grass dressed in ratty jeans and a tank top, smoking a cigarette like it wasn't almost 2am, and he wasn't risking waking up the tenants around you.
"Gonna let me up?" He calls up, not caring to be quiet.
"Climb up, fuckin' Rapunzel." Your voice is quieter but he hears you well enough.
Lip scoffs and starts his scaling of the wall trellis. The landlord should get that removed, but you're thankful they haven't. Once he's closer is when you back up from the window and make sure nothing is in his way for him to trample.
"You would be Rapunzel, sweetheart.." Is the first thing he says when he gets inside. He stubs out his cigarette on the windowsill and toes off his shoes.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever.. You smell like vomit.." You're bluffing. He smells like smoke and the fancy sandalwood cologne he was gifted by one of his rich exes. The mix of smells makes your stomach flip. It's so distinctly Lip Gallagher.
You can see the glimmer of mischief in his eye before he moves. The look doesn't register for you immediately, so you're too slow to dodge him when he launches at you.
Lip throws all of his body weight towards you, so when he collides with you, you're sent backward towards your bed. He lets himself go limp against you, causing you to fall back onto your mattress, Lip sprawled over the top of you.
You feel breathless with Lip laying on top of you. The smell of him is near overwhelming.
"Get off, you complete bum.." You try and get your hands under him to push him off. Lip hums and nuzzles his face into your neck.
"Mm-mm... Don't think I will, actually p'comfortable right here.." Lip punctuates the sentence with a kiss to your cheek.
You groan in faux annoyance and shift your hips under him in an attempt to try and flip you guys over.
"Mmm- Don't do that.." Lip mutters into your skin.
"Do what?" You furrow your brow, adjusting your hips once more.
Lip groans quietly and slowly starts placing kisses to your neck.
"Oh.." The feeling of his lips brings your attention to the precarious situation you're both in. Lip continues his motions, the kisses slowly becoming more harsh against your skin.
"We should- oh god-" Lip bites right under your ear, his hands are everywhere. "Lip.. We r-really shouldn't.."
Lip hums in response as he starts placing kisses down your neck. He's really going for gold to ensure you can't think. Lip situates his thigh between your legs. His hands are all but guiding your hips to grind against him.
You move your hands from his biceps to his jaw and guide his face back to yours. Lip mistakes your intentions of this and starts placing sweet kisses on your lips. You can taste the cheap beer on his breath, and it makes your stomach knot.
"Lip..." You manage to slip past his fleeting kisses. You grab his face again and pull him away to look at him. Lip's eyes are hooded; he looks nearly cross-eyed when he looks back at you.
"We shouldn't." You say it much more firmly without his mouth on you. That doesn't stop his hands, though, as he keeps guiding you to softly grind over his thigh, only using enough pressure to keep you chasing more.
"Why not, baby?" Lip moves his face and kisses the palm of your hand. He knows deep down that if you meant any of this, you'd push him away that you would have been harsher in your words.
"Because you're drunk.." You try and reason with him. You're grasping at straws to try and keep this from being another dash of salt in the wound.
"'M not drunk.... just a little tipsy.." He places another kiss to your palm, and another to the inside of your wrist.
"That's enough to know that we shouldn't." It feels like you have to choke the words out around the emotions in your throat.
"Please, baby.. Need you so bad.." Lip ruts his hips against your hip. You can feel his erection through his jeans, and it makes you squirm a little.
"Lip.." You sigh out. You can feel your resolve slipping, and you're pretty sure Lip can tell.
"Please, baby, please... Won't ask for anything else after this.." Lip shakes his head a little and shifts his thigh to rub up against your core. You let out a moan at the friction, and Lip seizes the moment to kiss you.
It's sloppy, the way Lip slips his tongue into your mouth. You don't try to fight for dominance, letting him explore your mouth at his leisure. Lip brings one of his hands up to grope at your chest, causing you to arch into him.
"Lip..." You breathe into his mouth, causing him to groan above you. You feel your heart begin to ache, knowing what will come tomorrow morning once he's sobered up.
You've been in this position before. Sometimes, you've both had something to drink, sometimes you're both completely sober. It always comes to the same conclusion. Lip tells you it was a mistake, that it can't happen again. He tells you it was a matter of convenience, that you happened to be there when he needed an outlet.
Thankfully, you've never let him get you naked. That was your one saving grace and your biggest regret.
There was one time, maybe the third or fourth time, that Lip was bare beside you. He convinced you to spend the night at his house, in his bed, after a late night out. When you had both gone to bed, there seemed to be no intention of anything happening. You had fallen asleep tucked into Lip's side like you did most of the time.
The next morning, however, you woke up to Lip climbing into bed behind you. You could smell the shampoo and soap on his skin. When he started placing kisses along your shoulder, you could feel his wet curls brushing your skin. You could also feel his arousal against your back.
His kisses trailed up your neck, to your ear where he nipped at your skin in hopes of drawing out a reaction. The gasp that left your lips was involuntary and you could feel his smirk against your skin.
"You awake, baby?" One of his hands slips over your hip to toy with the front of your waistband. "Was thinkin' about you earlier.."
Lip ended up dedicating that morning to getting you off with only his fingers. In the back of your mind you knew that if you turned around to look at him, you'd see all of him. But he kept you too distracted to put more than a fleeting thought into it. However, you also knew he was getting himself off. You could feel the movements against the mattress as he fucked into his hand behind your back.
It was an unspoken rule you never saw each other bare in these moments. It would make it too intimate, too real.
So tonight wouldn't be an exception, you knew, when Lip slides his hand from your chest downwards to undo the string of your pants.
"Need to know you want this too, baby...." Lip whispers into your mouth, sliding his thumb along the skin above your waistband. "Need words..."
He always asks. Lip always asks, always needs to hear a yes before he goes any further, and it makes your chest ache even more.
When you simply nod, Lip huffs before he pulls back from you. He brings the hand that had been rocking your hips, up to your face and tugs your bottom lip down with his thumb.
"You know the rules, honey... Gotta hear words.." His eyes feel more piercing than they usually are.
Except you didn't know the rules. You thought you did but he always ended up changing them. He was like a child, bending and changing the rules to his whims.
But you're nodding, anyway.
"Uh-huh.. Yes.. Yes, please.." Your voice sounds so whiny, and if Lip wasn't slipping his hands down your pants the moment he heard a yes, you'd have cringed at yourself.
He wastes no time pushing past your underwear, slipping his fingers down and coating them in your arousal. The sound that comes out of Lip's mouth is a rough mix between a moan and a laugh.
"Playing coy and look 'attcha... Soaked through your underwear, honey.." Your hips buck into his hand when he nudges your clit with his thumb. He watches with a smirk as your face flushes as he calls you out.
"It’s not th-" You're cut off in a silent moan when Lip slips his middle finger inside of you. The look on his face is smug, and you want to wipe it off.
Trying to maintain some of the same footing as him, you slip one hand between your bodies and weave the other into his curls. With the hand between the two of you, you press firmly against the bulge in his jeans. The way he bucks into your hand is unrestrained, and it makes you grin up at him.
You've both always been competitive, so it quickly devolves into 'who can get the other to come quicker.' You make quick work of the button of Lip's jeans and slip your hand into his boxers.
The way he groans when you wrap your hand around the base of him makes your chest swell with a sort of pride. Your movements are constrained by his boxers but Lip is more than happy to fuck himself into your hand.
"God, sweetheart, soo fuckin' wet already... Didn't even do nothin'..." Lip says as he goes in to kiss you. He groans against your mouth when he starts to work in a second finger, "Need you to relax, like a fuckin' vice.."
Lip circles a thumb over your clit, coaxing your body to let him slip his fingers further into you. Once he's up to the knuckle, your hips buck forward until you're all but riding his fingers.
Lip's grinding himself into your hand, pumping his fingers in and out of you in time with his own thrusts. The rhythm of his fingers has you tugging on his hair gently.
"Think- Christ- Think y'can take another- Fuckin' hell..." Lip's voice sounds strained as your walls clench around his fingers.
Lip has only ever given you three fingers once. The feeling of two already makes you feel so full. The idea of a third sounds impossible.
You start shaking your head. You truly don't think you can take a third finger.
"Don't- Oh my god- Don't think so-" Your voice is whining as he curls his fingers up against your walls. Lip tsk's at your response, kissing the edge of your mouth.
"Think you can baby- Fuckin' hell-" He swears as you tighten your grip around him. Your hand is lazy as you start jerking him off again. The movements are constrained in his boxers as you shift your wrist to run your thumb over his slit.
Lip groans as he pushes his nose against your cheek.
"Fuck- How- How are we gonna get you ready to take my cock if you can't take another finger- Christ.." You squeeze him closer to his head and he can't fight the way he bucks into your hand. His words make you feel dizzy as you whine at the feeling of his thumb against your clit.
The feeling of him pulling out to the tips of his fingers, only to add a third, makes you gasp. Lip takes the opportunity to kiss you, exploring your mouth.
He feels like he's everywhere. Your whole being is taken up by him.
Lip moans into your mouth at the feeling of your walls clenching around his fingers. His pace is slow when he begins, ensuring your body has adapted to him inside of you.
He's grinding his hips against your thigh, fucking into your hand and matching his pace to the way his fingers are thrusting into you. The kiss turns messy as you whine into his mouth. When you pull away from him to catch your breath, Lip moves down to kiss and nip at your jaw.
"Fuck- Lip-" You can feel the knot in your stomach starting to tighten as he brushes against the spongy spot along your walls. Lip knows the way your body responds well enough by now that he starts rubbing tight circles against your clit.
"Come on, baby.. Come on.." Lip mutters against your skin.
The feeling on his fingers curling against your walls and his thumb against your clit makes you dizzy. The feeling of him biting under your ear combined with the way he's fucking you is enough for the knot in your stomach to break.
You use the hand that's been tugging on his hair to bring him into a kiss, trying to stifle the sound of your moans while he works you through your orgasm. The feeling of his hips rutting against you is only slightly quicker than the way he's working you with his fingers.
The tug you give at his hair is rougher than usual, but it's enough that he groans into your mouth and his hips stutter against you. Lip's breathing is heavy as he gives a few more weak thrusts against your thigh. You remove your hand softly, making sure to keep the mess away from your sheets and Lip's clothes.
The feeling of Lip slipping his fingers out of you makes you whine, mourning the loss of being full. He kisses your temple softly as a way of apologizing. You watch him with tired eyes as he uses his own mouth to clean off his fingers.
The sight is enough to reignite the fire in your belly.
Once he's done, he lays down beside you, collecting himself again. Catching his breath and making sure he's breathing normally again.
After Lip has caught his breath, he gets off the bed and rifles through your dresser before he leaves the room.
You take the time to get up and wipe off your hand with a tissue from your desk. You quickly change out of your bottoms, putting on a new pair of underwear and a pair of sleep pants.
Once you're cleaned up, you turn off the lamp on your nightstand and climb into bed. You're hoping that the quicker you're under the covers, the later you'll feel the anxious shame in your stomach. You've adopted the idea that it'll be easier to face it in the dark.
It never is.
The knot in your stomach feels tighter when Lip climbs into bed with you. He's lost his shirt and jeans somewhere between your room and the bathroom. The weight of his arm wrapping around your midriff makes you want to squirm out of your skin.
"G'night.." Lip whispers into your hair as he settles behind you, keeping your back to his chest.
"Night.." You choke out.
As Lip drifts off behind you, you prepare yourself for tomorrow, when Lip reminds you it was just a mistake.
It means nothing.
You try and enter the Gallagher house as quietly as you can. Which is not very quiet with Lip right behind you and a few drinks in both of your systems.
Your foot catches on a stray shoe near the back door that sends you tumbling into the bathroom door. Lip snickers behind you as he kicks the shoe away.
"Shhh..." You hush him, turning around and placing a finger to your lips. Your childish antic makes Lip smirk as he closes the door behind him.
Lip helps you stand up straighter, guiding you towards the stairs with a hand on your hip.
He looks particularly pretty in the orange glow bleeding in through the kitchen window. Before you take the first step up, you place a kiss on Lip's cheek. Then, a soft bite at his jaw. You've barely made it up the first three stairs before Lip has you crowded up against the wall, his chest to your back.
"Need ya to be quiet... Think you can do that? Yeah... Think you can do that.." Lip whispers right under your ear as he kisses your neck.
One of his arms braces himself against the wall beside your head as the other one snakes around to your front and toys with your waistband.
You already know what he's asking.
"..Yes, God yes..." Your voice is hushed and whining as you nod quickly. Lip wastes no time before his hand dives into your underwear and he grinds his erection against your ass.
As Lip slides his fingers over and past your clit, he starts placing kisses into your hair and any part of your face he can get to.
At the same time as he slips his middle finger inside of you, he places a gentle bite against your jaw. The dual sensations make you groan, which you fight to stifle.
The way he's pumping his finger in and out of you is making you whine. When he slips in a second, it gets worse.
His presence is all-encompassing, with his back against you and the way he's biting at your neck and shoulder. You don't bother fighting the way your hips move in time to meet the movements of his fingers.
Lip's hips match the way he's thrusting his fingers in and out of you, and you can't get enough of it. When he starts rubbing circles on your clit it makes you gasp.
The pace he sets is unforgiving. Both of you are desperate to reach your own climax. It feels all too soon when you feel the knot in your stomach building. You bite down hard on your lip when he's crooks his fingers up against your wall, whining at the feeling.
You're breathing heavily to bite back your moans, grinding your hips into his fingers as you chase your own release. You can feel when the tension in your stomach breaks, damn near sure your legs would give out with the force of your orgasm.
You bite down on Lip's bicep to stifle your moan. The groan Lip let's out is buried in your hair as he ruts against you.
Lip keeps a steady rhythm as he grinds against you as you ride out your own high. You breathe heavily against his arm, attempting to catch your breath. Lip slips his fingers out of you, sliding his hand up to press against your stomach to further press your hips into his own. He drops his head down to rest against your shoulder as his hips stutter against you.
The feeling of Lip's teeth sinking into your shoulder makes you gasp as he attempts to stifle his own moan. Lip freezes behind you, breathing harshly against your skin.
Lip's weight is heavy against your back as you both steady yourselves. He taps gently against your stomach before he removes himself from you. Lip clears his throat as he adjusts his shorts behind you. You sluggishly turn yourself around, letting your back rest against the wall as you take in his appearance.
His face is flushed, his shirt rumpled, and his shorts... The wet patch that's leaked through from his boxers is mouth watering. The bite mark on his right bicep is red and angry. You can see the indentation of your teeth still there.
The whole way Lip is right now is near enough to have you breaking your rule. You'd give just about anything to have him fuck you on the staircase. The only thing stopping you is the fact his youngest siblings are sleeping just upstairs, and you know for a fact Debbie isn't the deepest sleeper of the Gallagher clan.
"Let's go get cleaned up, baby.." Lip's words sound slurred, like he's keeping from acting on the same thoughts. All you can do is nod and hold your hands out for him.
Lip shoulders most of your weight up the rest of the stairs, your mind is still so foggy, and you're not sure your legs would work on their own.
He plops you down on his bed unceremoniously. Lip walks away from you to his dresser, opening the drawer that holds several different items of clothes for you. When he comes back to you, he's handing you a new pair of underwear and a bed shirt.
"Y'know the drill, hon.." Lip gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head before he's leaving you again, this time to collect his own new pair of clothes.
You're slow to change your clothes, but Lip gives you the time you need. By the time you're in new underwear and a comfier shirt, you're ready to melt into his bed. Your clothes are left in a pile near the foot of Lip's bed as you roll over and start trying to crawl up to where the pillows lay.
You don't bother acknowledging the sound of Lip shuffling back in until he's landed on the bed beside you. He clumsily drags you up to lay beside him, making you face him on your side.
The both of you are struggling to keep your eyes open, but you're both looking at each other with a half lidded gaze. Lip brings a hand up to hold your face gently, rubbing his thumb over your cheekbone.
The moment is a stark contrast to the one you both had on the staircase. You spot the bruise starting to form on his arm and can't help yourself from placing gentle kisses against it. Lip chuckles softly, bringing his arm to wrap over you, pulling you close to his chest.
You fall asleep like that, Lip's nose buried in your hair, yours against his chest. Warm and comfortable and positively content.
When you wake up, you wish Lip's room had a proper door to it. It's something that you always wished, but it's at the forefront of your mind this morning.
The first thing that wakes you up is the light coming through the window, that brightens up the room. The second is the whispering coming from the doorway.
You can distinctly make out Debbie and Carl's voices. They're not as quiet as they think they are.
"Do you think they fucked?"
"Carl!"
"What? Their clothes are on the floor right there-" You assume he's pointing to your pile of clothes near the foot of the bed. "And Lip has no shirt on."
"Lip hasn't slept with a shirt on since he broke up with Karen and dated Mandy."
"I guess.." You know Carl hates to admit when he's wrong. "But that doesn't explain why he's holding 'em like that."
"That's how people sleep together, Carl. Without having sex. I think it's nice."
"That's boring... Ow!" You could hear the smack Debbie lands on the back of Carl's head, and you have to bury your face further into Lip's chest to keep from laughing.
"Come on.." You have to assume Debbie drags Carl away when you hear them shuffling down the hall and stairs. With them gone, you take a deep breath in relief.
"They leave?" The mutter from Lip startles you slightly.
You peak your head up over his shoulder, relieved neither of the two kids are still in the doorway.
"They're gone." You affirm, leaving your head back on the pillow, extracting yourself from Lip enough that you can look at him.
His hair is flat, where he had been resting his head on the pillow. His eyes are barely open, and he's so warm next to you.
"They're not as quiet as they like to think they are." You whisper to him. It makes him smile.
"Yeah, I know. Try livin' with them all the time.." His voice is rough with sleep and there's a tug in your stomach that makes you want to jump his bones.
"You don't live with them all the time. Live with me more than you do them these days..." There's no bite in your remark. Lip has moved so much of his clothes and smaller belongings into your apartment near campus than you think he keeps here.
You're not sure when it started happening. You were so used to Lip using your shower products when he came over, or using his at the Gallagher house, but at some point a second pair of soap and shampoo showed up on the ledge of your shower. Lip always kept clothes in your room, but at some point, clothes started migrating into your closet. At some point, half of it housed Lip's t-shirts and jeans, and there was a pair of his shoes next to yours on the floor, one of his coats beside yours in the winter.
You never notice these things until they've already appeared and been living in your space. And then it's too late to mention. So Lip has slowly been moving into your apartment, but you're not one to argue over it.
The sound of more footsteps in the hallway have you and Lip closing your eyes, feigning sleep.
"Oh shit-" It's Fiona. Her footsteps stopped briefly in the doorway,
"Ian.!" She's whisper-shouting like it'll change the fact she's even less quiet than the little kids.
Ian must be close by because it's not long before you hear the second set of footsteps stop at the door.
"Woah-"
"I knew it!" You can hear the excitement in Fiona's voice. "He kept denyin' it but I knew it, I fuckin' knew it."
"Did you hear them come in last night?" Ian's the only one that's any good at actually whispering in this house. You almost struggle to hear him.
"No. But at least they made it inside." Fiona sounds resigned by the idea of it. Ian hums in response, and you hear them both leave.
"They need to get a job..." Lip huffs.
His griping makes you giggle. When you open your eyes, Lip is already looking at you, much more awake now. His eyes remind you of ice with the way the morning light hits them.
"At least they care..." You sigh, taking in how soft he still looks this early in the day. It's something you're not sure you'll ever get used to. His face is a little rosy, a soft flush on his nose and cheeks, his hair is messy, and his eyes don't have that sharp glint in them yet.
Lip sounds not committal when he hums. Your eye catches on the deep red bruise on his bicep, small bits of purple showing up already. It's nearly a perfect ring, the outline of your mouth on his skin. It makes your stomach tug, with guilt and a warmth in your core. His eyes follow yours, and he smirks when he sees what you're looking at.
"Someone got a little mouthy last night..." He mumbles as he looks back at you.
"Shut up.." You bring a hand up and shove his face away from you. Lip starts laughing, hugging you closer to his chest. The both of you bask in the presence of the other, Lip holding you close and allowing you to listen to his heartbeat.
The moment is short-lived before there's shouting downstairs. You hear Fiona calling from the first floor.
"Lovebirds! Breakfast! You got two minutes to get dressed and down here before it's free game!" Her voice rings through the house.
"Oh shit," Lip bolts up, wasting no time tumbling out of bed. He rolls over, landing on the floor with a loud thud.
"Idiot." You tease him, climbing off his bed with a bit more grace. You grab a pair of boxers from your open drawer, slipping them on as Lip gets back up.
What you don't anticipate is the foot Lip sticks out to trip you. You let out a shocked scream, putting your hands out to brace yourself as you tumble to the ground.
Lip is on you in moments, softly jabbing at your sides and placing kisses behind your ear and along your hairline. "Who's the idiot now, huh?"
"Still you." You bite out before he begins tickling at your sides. You let out a shriek of laughter, trying to shove him away as you try to wriggle out of his grasp.
The way you're yelling at Lip to stop between fits of laughter is making Lip laugh.
"Get off, get off!! The kids are going to steal our food!" You try shoving his hands away and wiggling out from under him.
"I can think of better things to eat.." Lip stops his actions and whispers in your ear.
"Lip!" You exclaim, smacking him in the chest as you feel your face flush. He nips softly at your ear before he gets off you.
"Come on, quit playin' around.." Lip gives an affectionate pat to your ass as he climbs to his feet.
You roll your eyes at him as you stand up, bringing your hand up to cuff around the back of his head.
What you miss, when you walk out of his room, is the grin on his face. One that is sickly sweet and not what he should have when he thinks about his best friend.
You have been at this party for maybe 15 minutes before Lip is dragging you down a hallway by your wrist.
It was abrupt. You had planted yourself by the kitchen island. It gave you an overview of the living room turned dance floor, where you could watch everyone be stupid and drunk.
One guy in particular had caught your eye. It's not that you would have let him take you home, but you liked the feeling of attention it gave you to have someone look at you across the room.
This did not sit well with Lip. He had left you by the island to go talk to someone he knew from college. It didn't bother you like it should have since you had something to hold your attention.
When the guy across the room starts to push through the crowd towards you, Lip shows up to drag you away. He takes your cup out of your hand, and places it on the counter when you pass by.
"What- Lip- Lip, what are you doing?" It doesn't seem like he hears you when you try and get a reason out of him. You have no choice but to follow behind him. You're unsure how Lip knows where he's going in this house, but he manages to find you guys an empty bathroom.
Once you're inside the bathroom, Lip locks the door before he pushes you up against it by your hips.
"Should have known you'd be preening for attention.." Lip mutters as he presses kisses on your jaw. "Dressed like this... Should have known you'd be actin' up tonight..."
"Wh-What?" The bite he leaves under your ear makes you stutter, choking down a moan.
"Saw you lookin' at him... Lookin' at you like he's thinkin' 'bout fuckin' you.." Lip growls against your neck. You're not even sure what he's talking about. Lip has undone the button of your shorts, resting his fingers over your underwear.
You don't even have to think twice about it. "Yes.."
You're still not even sure who he's talking about. Lip has never been this possessive or jealous before. You don't get the chance to unpack it when Lip starts to rub tight circles over your clit.
Lip doesn't give you much time to ask anymore questions before he's inserting two fingers into you. The feeling of his fingers filling you immediately makes you inhale sharply.
"Think he'd be able to fuck you like this? Got you squirmin' on my fuckin' fingers.." You cannot think past the feeling of Lip's fingers inside of you, the filth coming out of his mouth, and the way he's grinding the heel of his hand against your clit.
"Haven't ever given you my cock and you're this needy... Think he'd be able to fuck you like that? Fuckin' yourself on my fingers like a whore..." Lip is leaving sharp bites down your neck and your jaw. The hand that's not down your pants comes up to grope at your chest, and you can feel yourself melting against the door.
You don't prove him wrong with the way your hips are grinding into his hand. The feeling of his lips along your collarbone has you gasping and writhing. You're sure that if the music wasn't so loud, people outside would be able to hear your moans.
Lip's got you right where he wants you, you're putty in his hands, you'd probably let him do whatever he wanted if it meant he kept talking and fucking you like this.
You don't catch all of the obscenities Lip says against your skin, too busy chasing the feeling of your own orgasm and bucking against his hand.
"Thinks he can look at what's mine..." His words break the haze in your mind and you can tell Lip's just saying empty words.
You're going to be sick.
"Stop- stop, stop!" You push Lip's hand away from you and tug it out of your pants. Lip looks at you wide-eyed as you push him out of your space.
You can't breathe. You're going to be sick. You can't breathe, you can't breathe, you can't breathe.
"Come on, sweetheart, look at me. Look at me, match my breathin'.." Lip's hands are on your face.
"Don't- Don't tou-" Your words are cut off by whatever is strangling you. Lip doesn't listen. He instead takes the hand gripping at your shirt and puts it against his chest. His heart is much calmer than yours is.
"Come on, honey. Need you to match my breathin'.." Lip's words are quiet and calm and so far away.
It takes you five minutes before you can breathe clearly. It takes another two for you to realize you had been crying.
Lip doesn't let go of you until you're no longer taking shuddering breaths. Once his hands leave your face, you feel cold, and you want to take away the whole meltdown you just had in order to have him close to you again.
The look he's giving you makes you want to crawl into the ground. You bring your shaky hands to button back up your shorts and adjust your shirt to look less rumpled.
"You wanna go home?" He asks like he's talking to a stray animal, like he doesn't want to spook you.
All you can do is nod. You don't want to look at him, you don't want to see the pity in his eyes.
"Can I have your hand?" He's being so gentle and considerate and you want to throw up.
You offer him your hand tentatively. Lip takes it gently before he reaches past you to unlock the door.
The journey to find your way out of the house is an exhausting one. However, the moment you're both alone seems far more dreadful.
You don't want to deal with the interrogation you already know is coming.
Lip is going to ask questions, and you're going to have to tell him that you've stupidly fallen in love with him. That you've been in love with him since before this painful charade had started.
There's a feeling of shame that bubbles up in your stomach whenever you think about how long you let this go on for. Pretending to be happy and okay with the fact you give so much to him, and he doesn't care.
The direction Lip picks is the way to your house. You had chosen this party because it was so close to your apartment but now you're regretting it. You think the silence is worse than an interrogation would be.
Lip doesn't break the silence until you make it to your apartment, the only place you'll have any sense of privacy. And maybe the last place you'll see Lip.
"What uh- what was that about?"
"Doesn't matter," You bend to slip off your shoes, discarding them by the pile you have at the door.
"Don't give me that-" He starts but you cut him off.
"Give you what, Lip? The truth? It doesn't matter so long as you can keep finger-fucking me, right? Use me for a handy from time to time?" You sound miserable and pathetic, you don't have the energy to pretend anymore.
"Don't tell me it means nothing when you just had a fucking panic attack about it!" Lip never really raises his voice at you. Not out of anger, anyways. But he's agitated, running a hand through his hair.
"What do you want to hear, Lip? That I'm okay with being with you only when I'm convenient? That it's okay that every time maybe, just maybe you won't tell me it means nothing when you fuck me?" This is truly your breaking point. "I can't sit in silence over this anymore, Lip! Not if you're going to pretend you have some fucking claim over me, like we're dating. You're good at making it very clear we're not."
Lip is silent where he stands in your kitchen. He looks like he's been slapped in the face, you kind of wish you had.
"So, if you want to hear that I'm okay with you saying I'm yours, when I've spent nights wallowing in my own self pity that I've been letting this go on, then you are sorely mistaken, Lip Gallagher." You sigh tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face.
"Why- Why didn't you say anything?" Lip is looking at you like you're crazy.
"Because I didn't want to lose you! I'd- I'd rather deal with this pain than deal with the pain of losing you, Lip."
"Why would you lose me?"
"Because, Lip, you always say it means nothing! That- That is was a mistake, and that I was convenient and it couldn't happen again but it always did!"
"No that's not- I only said that cause I didn't think- I didn't think you wanted anything serious-"
"Oh please, Lip-"
"I didn't think you wanted anything serious with me. You know I'm a mess and my family is one stop from a shitshow-"
"And you think my family's perfect?" Your voice is laced with disbelief. "My mother was gone half the time, she'll never be as bad as Monica but my life is just as much of a shitshow, Lip. I just got better at hiding it."
Lip looks hurt at the mention of both your mothers.
"I don't want to talk about the rest of this tonight, Lip. I'm tired and just- I can't have this conversation tonight." You wave a hand at him in dismissal as you turn to head down the hallway to your room.
The sound of Lip's footsteps following you down the hallway further agitates you.
"Go home, Lip!" You call over your shoulder, pushing your way past the door to your room. You walk across the room to turn on your lap, illuminating your bedroom with a soft, warm glow.
You're not surprised to see Lip standing in your doorway. He's never liked to listen to you, instead choosing to follow you around like a lost puppy.
In hopes of him leaving if you ignore him, you move to your dresser and collect your clothes for bed. You can feel his eyes on you as you move across the room, trying to bide your time before you actually have to change.
He hasn't made any move by the time you set your change of clothes on the bed. Lip was nothing if not persistent.
"I'm not doing this with you tonight." You can't meet his gaze, if you look at him you know your resolve will break.
You can see him approaching you in your periphery and you can feel your stomach dip slightly. His hand is soft where it rests on your forearm, the way his thumb gently caresses your skin makes you inhale deeply.
Turns out you don't even need to look at him for your resolve to slip
His other hand moving to cup your cheek makes your eyes flutter shut, leaning into the warmth of his touch. You don't put up much of a fight as he turns your face towards him. Lip gently rests his forehead against yours, bumping your nose with his. Having him so close is intoxicating, making you lean further into him.
The kiss Lip pulls you into is desperate, and passionate, and full of everything neither one of you has been saying. Lip holds your face gently, taking his time to savor you, a stark contrast on how he usually tastes you.
You can't help the way you melt into the kiss, grabbing onto his shirt to pull him against you. The gentleness of it all makes your stomach flip.
Lip's hand slips over your wrist, grabbing your change of clothes from your hand and tossing it to the floor beside your bed.
With that taken care of, Lip guides you to lay back against your bed. He's quick to follow you, not wanting to break the kiss for a second. You're quick to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer. Lip grabs your hips softly, lifting and guiding you to lay against your pillows.
Lip's hands move from your hips to the buttons of your jeans, making quick work of the zipper. He gently coaxes you to lift your hips to slip your pants down your thighs. Your pants are quickly discarded to the floor, Lip's soon to follow them as he somehow makes even quicker work of his own zipper and button.
With less clothing in between the both of you, Lip rolls his hips against your own. The feeling of his erection rubbing against you makes you gasp. Taking the opportunity, Lip slips his tongue into your mouth. You're pliant and needy in his hands, whining into his mouth before he breaks away to catch his breath. You're quick to place soft kisses along his neck, biting softly around his Adams apple.
Lip groans softly before he pulls back. He's quick to slip your underwear down your legs and then remove his boxers. The feeling of his erection resting against your stomach is heavy, making your stomach twist. Your hips grind up against him, the vein on the underside of his cock creating a delightful friction against your clit.
One of your hands slips up to intertwine with his hair. You're quick to pull him into another soft kiss, arching your back to press your chest to his.
"Please, Lip..." Your voice is desperate as you kiss at the corner of his mouth, trailing kisses along his jaw. "Need you... Need you, right now.."
Lip's breath hitches softly in his throat. "You don't- I don't have any-"
"Doesn't matter.." You mutter, nipping at the edge of his jaw.
"Fuckin' hell..." Lip mutters before he brings you into a sloppy kiss.
The feeling of Lip's hips pulling away from you makes you whine, mourning the loss of warmth on your stomach. The moan you let out when Lip nudges the head of his cock against your clit is needy. Lip grunts in response, softly guiding his head along your folds to collect some of your slick before he attempts to push himself in.
The feeling of just the tip of him past your entrance makes you inhale sharply. Lip breathes shakily against your cheek, cursing under his breath as he pushes himself further into you. The stretch makes you wince briefly, panting heavily at the pressure in your stomach.
"Please, Lip. Please, please..." You're not sure what you're begging for but it eggs him on. Lip grunts softly as he gives a soft thrust into your heat.
Your jaw drops when Lip bottoms out. The feeling of being filled by him has your walls clenching around his cock. Lip drops his head against your shoulder as he groans, slipping his hand into yours where it lays on the mattress.
You squeeze his hand as he rolls his hips against you. The feeling of the head of his cock nudging against your cervix makes you light headed. You have no choice but to watch as Lip moves his free hand to rest against the wall, taking in the way his arm flexes.
Lip lifts his head up from your shoulder to kiss at your jaw, slowly pulling out to just the tip before softly thrusting back in. You can feel the vein along his shaft rubbing against your walls.
"Jesus fuckin' Christ, sweetheart..." Lip groans when he bottoms out again. He tries to stifle the whine in his throat when he feels your walls clenching around him. He's much deeper than you had thought possible, you can feel him all the way in your stomach.
"Holy shit- Y'so fuckin' tight, baby... Thought we stretched y'enough.." Lip kisses your cheek softly. All you can do is whine in response, squeezing his hand again.
The pace Lip starts with is gentle, pulling out to the tip before thrusting back in firmly. The motions make you squirm, rutting your hips up into him.
"More..." You whine. "Please, Lip, need more.."
Lip groans at your words, knocking his nose against yours. With your encouragement, Lip quickens his pace.
The familiar beginnings of a knot forming in your stomach has you moving your hips in time to move with Lip's. Lip removes his hand from the wall, winding its way in between your bodies. The tight circles he starts rubbing against your clit makes you moan, bucking your hips into his hand.
The movements of Lip's hips quicken when he feels the way your walls are clenching around his cock. Similar to the way they clenched around his fingers so many times before. The hitching of your breath encourages Lip even further, grinding deep inside of you to punctuate each thrust with.
Lip is quick to dip his head into your neck, biting softly under your ear, making you whimper softly. The culmination of his fingers, cock, and mouth along your body is enough to have the knot in your stomach unraveling.
Your walls flutter with your release before clamping down on him. The sensation makes Lip groan into your neck, grinding into you as the first ropes of his release coat your insides. The warmth makes you moan softly, pressing the side of your face into Lip's hair. Lip's hips grind softly against you as you both ride out your climax. When he removes his face from your neck your chest aches at the loss of closeness.
Lip kisses you softly as he gently ruts his hips into you. You whine softly as the feeling of overstimulation starts to creep into your nerves. You can feel the mix of both your releases slipping out of you with each gentle thrust Lip gives you. The mixture slides down your ass and onto the sheets under you.
He nudges your nose with his as you whimper at the feeling of it all.
"'S too much. Too much, Lip.." You whine against his mouth, lifting your hips softly.
"I know, but y'gotta keep it all, baby.." Lip gives you one more gentle thrust before he stills. He starts to pepper kisses to your cheek, trying to make up for it.
Lip pulls out of you slowly, watching where the mix of both of you leaks out of your hole. He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth as he collects it with his finger, gently pushing the mixture back into you.
"I know, I know.." Lip whispers when you whine at the feeling.
Lip flops down onto the mattress, huffing softly. You can feel his gaze on you as you catch your breath. The feeling of Lip's hand caressing your ribs jolts you out of your mind fog, making you turn to look at his face.
"We should've done that so long ago..." Lip sighs, giving you a soft smirk.
You roll your eyes at him, "Someone was too busy having his head so far up his own ass for us to even try.."
"Whatever," Lip smiles at you before he kisses you sweetly. When he pulls back to look at you, his eyes are full of adoration and something you can't name.
"What're you lookin' at?" You whisper, fighting a grin.
"Somethin' really special..." Lip replies before he gives you another kiss. "Something real special.."
needed a few days to gather my thoughts on this masterpiece and all i can say is this is a fucking masterpiece of fic. one of the best ive read in a long long time.
thank you for gifting the world this masterpiece 🫶
The edges of your soul (I haven't seen yet) ⭐︎ S.H.
⭐︎ Warnings: 18+ mdni! post apocalypse, character death, angst, mean!steve, grumpy!steve x sunshine!reader, blood, wounds -- all the gory stuff, smut in the future chapters, hurt/comfort
⭐︎ Pairing: Grumpy!Steve Harrington x sunshine(fem)!reader
⭐︎ Summary: Everything he once knew, is gone, dead and buried, burned to the ground and turned into ash. All he has known is loss, death and pain, he despised this world, until it brought you to him -- the sunshine he had long forgotten. Light he will follow till the very end.
