my fic library

main: @Iovetings // 23

[gardenias-on-the-tile]

the back(seat)

steve harrington x fem!reader

part one of this: here

summary: hot sex with your ex boyfriend? of course! we know you love each other.

content warnings: SMUT, SMUT AND MORE NASTY SMUT, THEY'RE DISGUSTINGLY IN LOVE TOO. more of a dom!steve, use of "good girl", praise kink, fingering (semi-public, but noone actually sees them), oral (f!receiving), cowgirl and missionary, creampie, LOTS OF SAPPY STUFF AT THE END!! THEY LOVE EACH OTHER AND THAT'S OKAY! reader drives a van for...more space...purposes

a/n: girl, i know, i know—another month long break. to my defense, exam season was hard, okay? also, some people wanted pt2 but i feel like this is one of my worst works which is crazy. im so sorry.

"You're driving a van now?" 

Steve examined your car, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"Oh shut up. My dad gave it to me, it's very precious, okay?" you joked, playfully patting the shiny surface. 

Steve came closer, his hand carefully cradling your face. For a second, he seemed to get lost in it, looking at you with so much care that you could feel yourself melting under his touch.

But his other hand found your waist, breath fanning over your lips as he said:

"I don't think he'd be happy with what we're about to do in his car."

The way he kissed you after that made you unable to answer, your usual snarky comments hiding away.

His tongue was pushing against yours, devouring you like never before. You could feel his hand drifting lower, disappearing under your skirt and settling on the wet spot between your legs. 

"Let's finish what I started." he whispered into your mouth, pulling the material of your panties to the side. His long finger immediately found your entrance, and you winced at the sudden change.

"Too much already?" he smirked, taunting you.

You didn't answer—just looked him straight in the eyes and started moving your hips, taking him even deeper.

He moaned, admiring how good you were to him, how bold your actions were.

"Steve...fuck, let's go inside the van." you managed breathlessly, suddenly remembering that he was literally fingering you on the street. 

But his movements only got faster, adding a second finger into you. Your head fell backwards, pleasure overwhelming your body. 

"You don't seem eager to stop now." he smiled, pushing himself closer to you. It was obvious how painfully hard this situation got him.

"Steve..." you moaned, grinding your pussy into his palm, putting pressure onto your clit. "I'm so close."

He grunted against your skin, his own breathing getting quicker with each second you whimpered his name. 

"Come for me, and I'll fuck you so good in that little car of yours." 

And his promise did it for you—your whole body tensing, breathless moans escaping your mouth as you rode his fingers, getting as much pleasure as you could.

He didn't leave your side, not until you were rummaging through your bag, searching for your keys to the van.

When you found them, you unlocked it with shaky hands, still feeling the aftermath of your orgasm. 

Steve guided you—opening the back door, quickly sitting on the carpeted floor and then locking both of you in.

You turned on the little lights you got installed and pushed some scattered stuff to the side.

"So do you like...fully function here?" Steve asked, though the was none mockery to his question.

You looked around, remembering all the quiet nights you've spent here, hiding away from the world where you needed it most.

"Yeah." you shrugged, looking at him. "Sometimes I just come here and read, or even nap. I like my little spot."

Steve smiled then, so awfully nice and caring. "I think I like it too."

And it was like something switched. You came up, straddling his thighs as your mouth found his. You tried so hard to tell him everything that you felt through that one kiss, hoping that he'd get you—get how much you've missed him.

"I never stopped thinking about you." he said quietly, and you knew that he understood. He got you, he always did.

Your teeth gently scraped his bottom lip and you felt him bring you even closer, tugging at your waist like he wanted your bodies to be glued together.

"Steve...please." you murmured, finding the hem of his shirt. "Don't make me wait even longer."

And you were right—he knew you were. You've been separated for too long, his own stupidity taking you away from him. 

He felt like he needed to prove something to you, show you that he's still worth it, make you proud.

Luckily, this was his specialty.

He let you undress him, your hands dancing across his chest, his soft belly, his thighs. You were everywhere.

And he didn't waste more time—he took off your clothes, leaving you only in panties that were already soaked through.

"Take them off." he ordered, and you found yourself surprisingly happy to obey.

You slowly lowered your lacy panties, not breaking the eye contact with him while doing it.

Steve wasn't as strong though, because just when the material went past your knees, he yanked it down and scattered it somewhere behind him.

"Such a pretty pussy." he said, his voice dangerously low. "Need ya to ride me first."

He was straightforward, but you kind of needed him to be. You were waiting for this moment an unhealthy amount of time now.

So when you lowered yourself onto his cock, it was like a shockwave. Like every nerve in your body knew that this was it—something you craved for so long.

"Fucking hell." Steve moaned, your tits bouncing in his pretty face as you moved up and down. "You're so good, so fucking good."

You'd be lying if you said that his praise didn't make you feel anything. The opposite—you felt like your body might burst into flames, the way it got hotter, more sensitive to his words.

"Tell me, tell me more." you whimpered, your eyes rolling back as he gripped your hips harder, plunging up into you.

"So beautiful." he panted. "Squeezing me like a good girl."

He didn't stop, didn't slow down for even a second. His cock stretched you over and over again, the air filled with obscene sounds of your wet pussy.

"I know you're close." he said, his finger sneaking to your clit, teasing it in small circles. "Ride me like you need it."

Fuck, he was so hot talking to you like this. Your thighs burned from all the movement, but you were determined. You took him like a fucking champion, shuddering more every time he touched your clit.

"Say my name." 

And you did—no, you screamed his name. Repeated it over and over as your body thrashed on him, your juices leaking down your thighs. You felt dick-crazy, but the way he fucked you was so impossibly good.

Your body went softer, forhead resting on his shoulder. 

But Steve wasn't done yet.

He laid you down, quickly settling his face between your drenched folds.

"Baby what are you–" 

You didn't get to end that question, his tongue entering you and gathering the wetness.

Your body was set aflame again. He worked through your folds, licking and sucking expertly, never forgetting to add pressure to your clit.

"You taste so good, I could eat you out every fucking day." he said into you, the vibrations of his voice adding to the pleasure.

"Oh, fuck yes, just like that." you muttered praise, your vision getting blurry from the overwhelming feeling.

"Yeah, like this?" he taunted, slipping his long finger into your pussy.

You were unable to speak, getting so close to the end.

But Steve stopped.

"What? Why?" you protested, trying to push his face back into you.

He came up, towering above you, and slipped his cock inside you again. You shuddered, but he didn't move, just looked into your eyes.

"What are you doing?" you asked, previous pleasure leaving your body the longer he waited.

"I want to do this right." he said, kissing your forehead with tenderness. "Need you to hear me clearly, yeah?"

You just nodded, confusion clouding your face. 

"Words, baby." he said, pushing his hips into you just once, but enough to make you gasp.

"Yeah, yeah I hear you." you said, trying your hardest not to get lost in the feeling again.

"I missed you so much." he confessed, his hips starting to move very slowly, as to just mindlessly accompany his words. "And I don't want to be away from you ever again."

He was filling you with this sensation of being loved, of being wanted, and at the same time—giving you the physical pleasure that mirrored it.

It was intense, intimate. Something you've never felt before, not like this.

"I don't want that either." you whispered, and he gave you a soft smile, the one that felt like everything was going to be okay. 

And being by his side, it felt like it really would.

His hips moved a little faster now, both of you getting lost in each other, your mouth messily finding his, the kiss interrupted by an exchange of quiet moans.

"I couldn't–" he breathed softly. "I don't want to move on. I only want you."

His hips held a steady pace now, his eyes searching for yours desperately—like he had to see you reacting to those words.

"I love you." he whispered. "And I don't think I'll ever stop."

It was overwhelming, the way pleasure erupted between you, your breathing quickening, mouth falling open while repeating his name.

You could feel him everywhere—his cum leaking between you legs, his weight on top of your body...

All of him, all of this love just spilling over you.

And when he finally came down from his high, you kissed him, as hard as you could, making him unable to breathe in the best way possible.

"I love you too, Steve." you whispered. "I never stopped."

God, Steve felt stunned. Like his brain couldn't grasp the concept of you actually loving him. Still loving him.

He flashed you a big smile, his eyes clouding with tears.

"Good, because I have so much more ideas for this van."

You laughed, your own vision getting blurry now. "Such a romantic."

He kissed you on the cheek, carefully laying next to you. You could feel his sudden uneasiness, his features falling into a worried expression.

"You know...I still have to tell you why." he gulped, his eyes finding yours almost shamefully. "Why I ended...us."

It was quiet for a while. Just soft breathing, your gaze lingering on him, contemplating if you should confess.

No more lies about this.

"Stevie, I know." you exhaled, your hand gently reaching for his. "I've known for a while now."

His eyes went wide, and it was quiet again. 

It was hard, processing the fact that all of this could've been avoided.

"You...how?" he asked, still in shock. "You know about the–"

"Yeah, the other side." you finished.

"Upside down, actually."

"Not the point." you rolled your eyes but still laughed, and he quickly followed.

It was needed—to let that heavy tension break a little.

"Nancy told me, you know that we're still close." you continued, your fingers mindlessly dancing on his palm. "Maybe she couldn't stand to see me so heartbroken over you, she folded in two days."

Steve looked lost, but most of all, he was relieved. 

You knew—there was no hiding now, no going back. Maybe he was a coward, but damn if he wasn't glad that Nancy told you everything.

"I just wanted you to be honest with me." you continued. "But I respected your decision. You thought it would be better that way, and you had that right."

"I didn't want to. I just had to protect you, this shit is so dangerous." he said, softly grazing your thigh. "Losing you like that was better than losing you to...death."

You melted under his words. He was so stupid, but so damn sweet at the same time.

"I'd rather die loving you, than live mourning what we could've been."

Steve kissed you then, slowly, tenderly. You could feel his tears on your cheeks, the salty streaks mixing with your own.

"Don't leave me again." you whispered softly.

And he didn't. Not now, not ever.

interactions appreciated:)

people who wanted to be tagged (and hopefully still do): @aprincess-orjustme @certifiedgoober380 @mariafer3007

[athenas-rose]

mayyyy I request a vanilla caramel crunch with sunshine sprinkles?? Maybe an odd pairing but I’d love to see how you make it workkkk

Favorite Part Of My Day

Steve Harrington x sunshine!reader 600 words

Hurt/comfort + Secret Crush + Grumpy x Sunshine

You’re usually the brightest part of Steve’s day, filling every quiet moment with your presence. So when you suddenly stop talking, he’s determined to find out why and make sure you never have to shrink yourself again

Steve liked to pretend he didn’t pay much attention to people, didn’t care when they ignored him, or when they talked to him either. But by the fifth time you’d frown that day, thinking no one was looking, he couldn’t take it anymore.

He lasted approximately twenty seconds before slamming a vhs case onto the counter. “Okay, what happened?” Steve crossed his arms, waiting.

Your head snapped up, blinking innocently. “Nothing happened.”

“Bull.” He didn’t buy it for a moment, you couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at your lips. “See,” Steve muttered. “Now c’mon, tell me.”

You busied yourself by playing around with the charm bracelets stacked on your wrist. “It’s stupid.” You shrugged.

“So? I’ve had people say a lot of stupid shit, it doesn’t phase me.” Steve didn’t miss a beat.

“Someone just…” you sighed. “They told me I talk too much.” You avoided his gaze.

Steve stared for a moment. “Thats all?” He asked.

“I mean—” You laughed awkwardly. “Maybe they’re right. I can get kind of excited and I ramble and I don’t always know when to stop talking and—”

“Who said that?” His voice cut through yours so sharply you instantly froze.

“What?” You asked, confused.

“Give me their name.” He remained steadfast.

You looked at him with wide eyes, sputtering out your words. “It doesn’t matter.” You shook your head.

“It matters to me, they hurt your feelings.” Steve’s jaw tensed for the briefest moment, so fleeting you’d have missed it if you blinked. “Whoever said that can keep their mouth shut.”

A surprised laugh escaped you, though there was no humor behind his expression. “I’m serious.” His brows pulled together into that familiar permanent scowl he always wore. “What kind of asshole tells someone to stop talking?”

Your heart skipped, Steve rubbed the back of his neck like he was annoyed he even had to explain it. “You know what’s annoying?” His voice softened only slightly.

You sniffled, giving him a small smile, the first you’ve worn all day. “What?”

“You being quiet.” He explained, your breath catching as his gaze flickered around the room before returning back to you. “I mean…” he frowned, like the words physically hurt to say. “You fill the room.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks, but Steve, being completely oblivious to the secret crush you harbored on him, kept going. “You tell me random facts I didn’t ask for, you constantly interrupt yourself because you remembered something even more important.”

You let out a mortified groan, not knowing that’s how he saw you. “And somehow,” he rolled his eyes. “It became my favorite part of the day.”

Everything inside you stopped, he sighed heavily, trying to act like it didn’t bother him as much as it did. “So if some idiot thinks you talk too much,” he scoffed. “They can take it up with me instead.”

You couldn’t look at him anymore, only nodding slowly. Steve frowned, “why are you so red?” He tilted his head at you.

“I-I’m not,” you denied shakily.

Steve leaned a little closer, only making your case even worse. “Are you sick?” He questioned.

You covered your face with both hands, mumbling out weakly. “No.”

He sighed dramatically, “great, now I have two problems.”

You peaked between your fingers, blinking at him. “Two problems?” You repeated.

Steve pointed outwards. “One idiot who made you sad,” then he pointed at you. “And you refusing to smile at me.”

Your heart melted so quickly you were surprised it was still beating at all.

Steve crossed his arms again, narrowing his eyes at you. “So,” he nudged your shoulder. “Can I have my sunshine back now?”

And who were you not to give him what he desperately asked for?

[firelilyfox]

pure innocence

Pairing: Steve Harrington x female reader

Summary: You know exactly how to tease your boyfriend and Steve got no problem with being used for your entertainment.

Warnings: dating Steve. teasing. yearning. kissing. implied nsfw (not graphic). heart-eyed Steve. boyfriend mode. no use of y/n.

______________

The July air was still warm long after the sun had disappeared.

Music drifted lazily from the speakers someone had set up on the porch. Fairy lights crisscrossed the backyard, glowing softly overhead, while half the neighborhood seemed to be squeezed into one garden.

Robin and Vicky were arguing over who had cheated at cards.

Jonathan had somehow become trapped in a conversation about cameras with a college sophomore.

Nancy was laughing at something Steve had said.

Steve, for once, wasn't thinking about monsters. Or Upside Down portals. Or saving the world.

He was thinking about how nice it felt to simply… exist and to laugh with his friends.

"…She's been gone a while," Robin said, glancing toward the house.

"Bathroom line," Nancy guessed.

Steve nodded absently. You'd slipped inside ten minutes ago after kicking off your shoes at the door.

His eyes drifted toward the back door every few seconds before he could stop them.

Robin noticed. Of course she did. "You know she's coming back, right?"

Steve looked offended. "I know."

"You've checked the door twelve times."

"I have not."

"You absolutely have."

"I was… observing the party."

Robin snorted. "You are so whipped."

"I am not."

Nancy smiled into her drink. "You kind of are."

Steve opened his mouth to defend himself. Then the back door opened and his argument disappeared immediately, because there you were.

Shoes dangling from one hand and your hair glowing because of the fairy lights.

Looking around until your eyes found his. Then you smiled and Steve felt his own smile appear before he even realized it.

There she is. My favorite person.

You made your way across the lawn, weaving between guests until you reached the group.

Then you frowned. "Huh."

Every seat was taken. Steve reacted instantly. "I can—" But before he could even stand ... You simply sat down.

Right in his lap.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world. Steve's brain stopped worked completely.

His hands hovered awkwardly in the air. His heart slammed against his ribs. His ears immediately turned bright red.

"…Hi," you said cheerfully.

"Hi." It came out considerably higher than he intended.

Robin bit the inside of her cheek. Nancy suddenly found the stars fascinating. Jonathan coughed into his drink. Vicky outright grinned.

You seemed blissfully unbothered. "So…" You balanced one foot over your knee. "I should probably put my shoes back on."

Steve nodded. Words had abandoned him entirely.

You shifted slightly to reach your shoes. Then shifted again. Trying to find a comfortable position.

Steve inhaled sharply. Oh. Oh no.

You didn't seem to notice or… Maybe you did. Because another tiny wiggle followed.

Steve's entire body tensed. She's going to kill me.

You were still focused on tying the laces. Or pretending to be. His hands found your waist almost instinctively.

He leaned in just enough for only you to hear. "…You're playing a very dangerous game."

His voice was low, careful even.

You turned your head slightly. Blinking up at him with the most innocent expression he'd ever seen. "Am I?"

"So innocent," he murmured.

"I was just trying to put my shoes on."

"Mhm."

"I needed to get comfortable."

"You absolutely did."

You tilted your head. "What do you mean?" The corner of your mouth twitched.

That tiny hint of mischief. Steve knew that look. He'd learned it months ago and it always meant trouble. "You know exactly what."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Liar."

"So rude."

"You are enjoying this." Your smile widened just enough to give yourself away. Steve couldn't help laughing under his breath. "This little attitude you've got…" His thumbs rested lightly against your sides. "…I see right through it."

You looked up at him with exaggerated innocence. "I think you're imagining things."

"Oh, am I?"

"You are."

Steve shook his head, smiling despite himself. "You've become way too confident."

"Maybe."

"And whose fault is that?"

"Yours." You said it so matter-of-factly that he almost laughed out loud, but instead, he leaned closer.

Just enough that his lips brushed softly beneath your ear. "So this was your plan?"

You shivered ever so slightly. "No…"

"You sure?"

"I just wanted somewhere to sit."

"Funny." His smile grew. "You walked past three perfectly good patches of grass."

"I like this seat better." Steve closed his eyes for half a second. She's unbelievable.

He pressed a quick kiss against the side of your neck. Nothing more than a fleeting brush of affection. "You are trouble."

You smiled without looking up from your laces. "So I've been told."

Across the bench, Robin made an exaggerated gagging noise. "Oh my God."

Vicky laughed. "They're adorable."

"They're exhausting," Robin corrected.

Nancy hid her smile behind her cup and Jonathan chuckled quietly.

Steve glanced over. "Something to say?"

Robin held up both hands. "Nothing."

"You were definitely about to say something."

"I value my life."

"You should."

Robin pointed at you. "She has him completely wrapped around her finger."

Steve didn't even argue. Because…Well. You do. He'd accepted that a long time ago.

You finished tying the second shoe and slipped off his lap with one smooth motion. The sudden absence of your weight made him strangely disappointed.

You stood in front of him, smoothing your dress before offering him your hand. "Ready to head home?"

Steve looked up at you. Then narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. A realization settled over him. This little devil planned the whole thing.

Steve slipped his hand into yours. Your fingers intertwined immediately. He stood, still smiling to himself.

"What?" you asked.

"You know exactly what."

"I really don't."

"You are impossible."

Your grin answered for you. Steve laughed, shaking his head as he laced his fingers more tightly through yours.

Maybe you had planned it. Maybe you hadn't. Either way… He had a feeling he'd happily let you steal his lap—and his heart—for the rest of his life.

The walk to Steve's car was quiet. The kind of quiet that only happened after everyone else had finally stopped teasing you.

Your fingers were still intertwined with his, swinging lazily between you as you crossed the nearly empty parking lot.

The muffled sound of music still drifting from the backyard. Steve stole a glance at you. You looked suspiciously pleased with yourself.

He narrowed his eyes. "…You know."

"Hm?"

"I've been thinking."

"That sounds dangerous."

He laughed. "Little bit."

Steve stopped beside the driver's door and you stopped with him.

He turned to face you, one eyebrow raised. His voice low and husky, like he had just run a mile. "I`ve been thinking about how to punish you for torturing me back there."

Your cheeks got rosy and you felt that twist low in your belly, the one that belonged to Steve alone. "I did not punish you. I just wanted to get my shoes.."

Before you could finish your sentence, Steve reached for your hand. With one gentle tug, he spun you around. A surprised laugh escaped you as your back came to rest lightly against the side of his car.

He stepped closer. Not trapping you. Just close enough that you couldn't help looking up at him.

One hand rested against the car beside your shoulder. The other mirrored it on your opposite side.

His face was inches from yours. Close enough that you could see the tiny smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"There." He sounded entirely too pleased with himself. "Now…" His eyes searched yours. "Let's try this again."

You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"When," he asked softly, "did you decide you were going to spend the whole evening making me wanting to get you undressed as fast as possible?"

You bit back a smile. "I didn't."

"No?"

"No."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"I do."

Steve leaned in just a fraction. Close enough that you could feel his breath when he laughed.

"You've got that look."

"What look?"

"The one that tells me you need me just as much as I need you."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You never do."

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips before finding your eyes again. "You've been smiling at me all night."

"So have you." Your voice sounding a little breathless now.

"You reached for my hand every chance you got." His lips brushed slightly over yours, whispering a kiss but not actually kissing you.

"So did you," you whispered.

"You sat in my lap."

"I like your lap."

Steve laughed, shaking his head. "You are unbelievable."

"And yet…" Your voice softened. "…you haven't moved away."

He hadn't. Not even a little. "You know what I think?" he murmured.

"Hm?"

"I think…" He paused just long enough to make you impatient. "… you should get what you've asked for, sweetheart."

Your cheeks warmed and the only thing that came out of your mouth was a quiet sound of pleasure, when he pressed his body against yours. You could feel what you've done to him and Steve knew what he was doing to you right now.

The teasing smile faded from Steve's face.

Replaced by something much more intense ... something like hunger. Unable to resist any longer, Steve closed the remaining distance and kissed you.

It started slow. Gentle. The kind of kiss that made the rest of the world fade into the background.

You smiled against his lips, and he couldn't help smiling back.

A car rolled slowly past the parking lot. Someone leaned out the passenger window. "Hey, Harrington!"

The kiss broke. You both turned at the same time.

The voice called again, laughing. "Get a room!"

The car disappeared around the corner before either of you could answer.

Silence. Then you looked at Steve and he looked at you. A grin spread across both your faces at exactly the same moment.

"So…" you said, trying very hard to sound stable. "We should probably head home."

Steve laughed, reaching for your hand again. "I was just thinking the same thing."

He pressed one last quick kiss to your forehead before opening the passenger door for you. "Ladies first."

You smiled as you climbed in. "What a gentleman."

"Not for long." Steve closed the door with a fond shake of his head.

As he walked around to the driver's side, one thought echoed happily through his mind.

She's trouble. The sweetest kind I've ever known.

And if she planned to keep stealing his heart with little moments like tonight…

He had absolutely no intention of stopping her.

_______________

Thank you so much for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated 💙

STEVE HARRINGTON MASTERLIST

[jinxispunk]

echoes

Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: When Steve's voice starts calling for help somewhere deep inside the Upside Down, your only instinct is to find him. That's exactly what Vecna is counting on.

Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, no use of y/n, established relationship, angst, hurt/comfort, set around the events of season 4, psychological horror, canon-typical violence, anxiety, fear, fluff (lmk if i missed anything)

W/C: 8.3k

A/N: this one is HEAVILY inspired by a recent rewatch of hunger games: catching fire, specifically the scene with the jabberjays. this fic has been sat in my drafts, half-written, since, honestly, about march. i finally got round to finishing it this evening, and i feel incredibly proud of it. also probably not canon-accurate in any way, but we can all pretend. enjoy <3

Read more of my writing here: [masterlist]

If you want to be added to my taglist, leave a comment to lmk!

The Upside Down is quieter than it has any right to be.

Not silent - never silent - but subdued in a way that feels almost expectant, as though the whole landscape is listening rather than breathing. Ash drifts lazily through the air, settling in your hair, your eyelashes, the shoulders of your jacket, while every now and then something groans somewhere overhead, the sound echoing through the skeletal remains of Hawkins before disappearing into the endless red-grey haze. Every shadow seems to linger a fraction longer than it should. Every abandoned house feels as though it's watching you back.

Nobody speaks unless they have to anymore. After everything that's happened over the past few years, you've all learnt that unnecessary noise rarely ends well in this place.

The six of you move carefully along what used to be a residential street, flashlights sweeping slowly across abandoned cars, collapsed fences and gardens swallowed whole by impossible roots. Your boots crunch through brittle leaves that never seem to decay, disturbing clouds of pale spores that drift lazily back towards the ground as though gravity itself behaves differently here. Somewhere nearby, something creaks - a long, drawn-out noise that could just as easily be an old house settling as something waking up - and without thinking, the entire group pauses for half a second before continuing on.

Nancy walks at the front, shotgun resting across one shoulder as she periodically unfolds the increasingly battered map tucked into her jacket pocket, comparing hastily scribbled landmarks against the warped streets around you. Robin stays close enough to mutter the occasional nervous observation whenever the silence starts pressing too heavily against her chest, her voice never quite loud enough to carry beyond the group. You fall into step just behind them, while Lucas and Max keep pace a few feet back and Mike brings up the rear, glancing over his shoulder often enough that it's obvious none of you are particularly comfortable being separated.

Splitting into two groups had been necessary.

Nobody had liked it.

Least of all, Steve.

Even now, you can still picture the expression he'd worn before you'd gone your separate ways, bat slung over one shoulder, jaw set so tightly you'd thought he might crack a tooth. Every instinct he possessed had been arguing against leaving you somewhere he couldn't immediately reach, and it had taken Nancy reminding him - twice - that covering more ground was the only way this plan stood a chance of working before he'd reluctantly given in.

"Yeah," he'd muttered, still unconvinced. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."

You'd smiled despite yourself, reaching across to squeeze his hand through the fingerless leather glove he refused to throw away, reminding him that if anyone in Hawkins knew how to survive the Upside Down by now, it was probably the woman standing in front of him.

That hadn't impressed him nearly as much as you'd hoped.

Instead, he'd simply sighed, stepped closer, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Dustin wasn't looking, and pressed a quick kiss against your forehead.

"Be careful."

"Always am."

"Liar."

You'd laughed, nudged his shoulder, and watched him disappear into the crimson mist with Dustin, Jonathan, Eddie, Will and Eleven until the trees had swallowed them completely.

The memory still tugs at the corner of your mouth.

Until-

"...Hey."

The smile disappears instantly.

You stop so abruptly Robin almost walks straight into your back.

"What?" she asks, steadying herself with a hand against your shoulder.

You don't answer.

Your head turns slowly towards the trees to your left, every muscle in your body suddenly taut.

It isn't loud.

If anything, it's strangely distant, the sound drifting through the dead forest like smoke on the wind. For a heartbeat there's nothing else - only the soft hiss of spores falling through bare branches and the faint crackle of your flashlight.

Then it comes again.

"Hey!"

Closer this time.

Urgent.

"I'm over here!"

Your stomach drops so violently it almost hurts.

You would know that voice anywhere.

"Steve?"

The name leaves your mouth before you've consciously decided to say it.

Nancy's head snaps around immediately. "What?"

Before you can answer, the voice comes again.

"Honey."

The nickname punches the air from your lungs.

Nobody else calls you that.

Not Robin. Not Nancy. Not your parents.

Only Steve.

"Honey!"

There's something beneath it now that wasn't there before.

Fear.

Not the loud, frantic kind, but the tight, restrained panic of somebody desperately trying to keep themselves together. The kind of fear that makes your own pulse spike before you've even had time to think.

"I can't-"

The sentence breaks apart abruptly, swallowed by the trees.

Your heart lurches into your throat.

"Steve?!" you shout, already stepping forward. "Steve, where are you?!"

For a moment, the world answers with nothing.

Not even the ordinary silence of the Upside Down, but something heavier, stranger, as though the entire landscape has paused to listen.

Then, impossibly, the voice comes again.

Closer.

Close enough that you instinctively turn your head.

"Come find me..."

The words catch on a ragged breath before the final one arrives, quiet enough to almost disappear beneath the drifting ash.

"...Please."

Everything inside you seizes.

You've heard Steve angry before. Exhausted. Bleeding. Terrified enough to stand between monsters and children with nothing but a baseball bat clutched in white knuckles.

But you've almost never heard him sound helpless.

You don't think.

You run.

The forest surges towards you as your boots hammer across uneven ground, branches clawing at your sleeves while ash billows around your legs. Somewhere behind you, Nancy shouts your name, followed almost immediately by Robin yelling, "Wait!" but neither voice properly registers. Steve sounds hurt. Steve sounds alone. Steve needs you, and every instinct you possess drowns beneath that single overwhelming certainty.

"Steve!" you yell back, your voice tearing through the trees. "Steve, where are you?"

Nothing.

Then-

"Honey!"

Further ahead now.

You change direction immediately, scrambling over the twisted roots that split the road apart. He sounds closer this time. You can get to him. You just have to keep moving.

Behind you, Nancy's voice grows sharper.

"Wait!"

This time she's running too.

Robin isn't far behind, crashing through the undergrowth in your wake, and neither of them is trying to stop you anymore.

They're following. Because they'd heard him too.

Somewhere further back, confusion suddenly erupts.

"Wait - what's happening?" Mike calls.

"What are you doing?" Lucas shouts, his voice carrying faintly between the trees.

Max's follows a heartbeat later. "Guys?"

You never hear the answer.

The forest swallows their voices almost immediately, leaving only the pounding of your own heartbeat in your ears, your breathing growing harsher with every step, and somewhere ahead, drifting through the ash like a lifeline you can't bear to lose...

Steve.

Calling your name.

Nancy doesn't waste a second.

The moment you're swallowed by the trees, she snatches the walkie-talkie from her belt without breaking stride, thumbing the transmit button as she runs, branches whipping against her sleeves and catching in her hair while Robin struggles to keep pace beside her. Both of them are still searching desperately through the dead woodland for any glimpse of your torchlight, but you're already disappearing deeper into the crimson mist, moving far faster than either of them can hope to match.

"Dustin," Nancy says sharply, breathing hard between each word. "Dustin, come in."

For one agonising second, only static answers her, the familiar crackle hissing through the speaker loud enough to make her grip tighten instinctively around the radio. Robin glances sideways, her expression caught somewhere between confusion and fear, before Dustin's voice finally bursts through the interference.

"Nancy?" he says, sounding perfectly ordinary. "You guys okay?"

"No." Nancy doesn't even attempt to soften the answer. "Where's Steve?"

There's a pause.

"...What?"

"Dustin." Her voice is tighter now. "Where is Steve?"

Another beat passes before Dustin replies, and this time the confusion in his voice is unmistakable.

"...Uh..."

The radio crackles again.

"...He's here."

Nancy almost stumbles over an exposed root. "What?"

"I said he's here."

Robin's head snaps sharply towards her, eyes already widening as Nancy presses the walkie harder against her ear, convinced she'd simply misheard. "What do you mean he's there?"

"I mean..." Dustin sounds genuinely baffled now. "...he's standing right next to me."

There's the muffled sound of movement, someone taking the radio, and then Steve's voice comes through the speaker.

"Nance?"

The blood drains from Nancy's face.

"...What's going on?"

She stops so abruptly Robin nearly crashes into her shoulder before managing to catch herself, both of them standing motionless amongst the twisted trees as the impossible settles between them. For a long moment neither woman says anything, because the voice coming through the walkie is calm, confused, completely steady. It bears absolutely no resemblance to the terrified voice that had been echoing through the forest less than a minute ago.

"...Steve?" Nancy manages eventually.

"Yeah?"

"...Are you okay?"

"...Yeah."

"You sure?"

Steve lets out a small, bewildered laugh. "I mean... considering where we are? Sure enough."

Nancy looks at Robin. Robin looks back. Neither of them says it aloud, but they both reach the same impossible conclusion at exactly the same time.

Robin leans towards the radio first.

"...Steve." Her voice comes out far quieter than she'd intended. "...We just heard you."

Silence.

Nancy forces herself to continue. "You were yelling for help. You kept calling out and..." Her throat tightens painfully as she glances in the direction you'd disappeared. "...and she ran after you."

Another silence follows, longer this time, until Dustin finally breaks it.

"...What?"

Steve sounds equally lost. "...What yelling?"

Nancy can hear her own heartbeat now, loud enough that it almost drowns out the radio. "You were calling her name."

"I wasn't."

"You said-"

"I never said anything."

There's no hesitation in the reply. No uncertainty. No searching through his memory to make sure he hasn't forgotten. Steve says it with the absolute certainty of someone stating an indisputable fact.

"I never yelled."

The words settle over both groups like falling ash.

Nobody speaks.

Not Nancy. Not Robin. Not Dustin.

Even the radio seems to fall silent.

It is Robin who finally whispers the question none of them wants to ask.

"...Then who did we hear?"

Nobody has the chance to answer.

Very faintly, through the crackling speaker, another voice reaches the other group.

"Jonathan!"

Jonathan's head jerks upright on the other end of the radio. "Nancy?"

Again.

Closer this time.

"Jonathan!"

Jonathan is already moving before anyone can stop him.

"Nancy!" he shouts instinctively into the darkness. "Where are you?"

"No!" Nancy's voice tears through the walkie. "Jonathan, wait!"

He freezes mid-step.

"It's not me!"

The forest falls deathly quiet.

Jonathan lowers his flashlight by fractions, his eyes never leaving the darkness ahead, while beside him Steve has gone completely still, every muscle in his body suddenly taut.

Then the voice comes again.

"Jonathan..."

It sounds closer now.

More desperate.

"...Please."

Jonathan's face empties of colour.

"...That's..."

The sentence dies unfinished.

Chaos erupts almost immediately afterwards. Questions crash into one another from every direction, nobody waiting long enough for an answer before another voice cuts across it.

"What the hell is that?"

"How is it doing that?"

"It sounded exactly like-"

"Jonathan, don't move!"

"Steve, wait-"

Because Steve has already taken a step towards the sound.

Just one. Instinctive. Automatic. The sort of step you don't realise you've taken until somebody points it out.

Will's voice is so quiet at first that nobody hears him.

"...It's learning."

The panic rolls straight over the top of him. The radio continues crackling with overlapping voices while Steve stares into the trees, every instinct screaming at him to run after Jonathan before it's too late.

Will looks up.

"...Guys."

Still nobody listens.

Then, louder this time-

"It's learning!"

Everything stops.

Even Steve.

Will has gone frighteningly pale, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the trees as though he's finally recognised a pattern that's been sitting just beyond reach this whole time.

"It isn't just copying us."

Nobody interrupts him. Nobody even breathes.

"It's finding the voices we'll follow."

The words settle over the group with all the weight of a death sentence.

Steve feels something cold slide slowly down his spine as every conversation he's ever had in this place suddenly replays itself in his mind. Every frantic shout across a battlefield. Every nickname. Every desperate search through the dark. Every time someone had called Robin, Dustin, Nancy, Jonathan, Eddie, Max... every time somebody had shouted his own name, or called you Honey across a room without thinking.

The Upside Down had heard it all.

It had listened.

And somewhere, somehow, it had remembered.

Not simply the sounds of their voices, but the relationships behind them. The people those voices belonged to. The ones each of them would instinctively run towards without stopping to think.

It wasn't imitating them.

It was studying them.

The realisation lands with such force that Steve feels physically winded.

His head snaps towards the walkie.

"...Where is she?"

Nancy and Robin don't answer immediately. Instead they look at one another, horror spreading slowly across both their faces as they finally understand what had just happened. Robin is the one who finds her voice first, though it barely rises above a whisper.

"...She went after the voice."

Steve doesn't wait for another word.

He tears into the trees at a sprint, Dustin and Jonathan following without hesitation while Eddie, Will and Eleven race after them. Behind him, Nancy forces herself back into motion as well, raising the walkie while she runs.

"East," she says breathlessly. "She headed east, towards the old woods. She thought..." Her voice catches for the briefest moment before she forces the words out. "...she thought she was coming to you."

Steve doesn't answer.

He can't.

Because only one thought is repeating over and over in his head now, louder than his own footsteps, louder than the pounding of his heart, louder than the forest rushing past him.

It knew you'd come.

Steve is moving before Nancy has even finished giving the direction.

"...East-"

It's the only word he hears.

His boots are already pounding across broken tarmac before his mind has caught up with the decision, the walkie still crackling uselessly somewhere behind him as Eddie swears, Jonathan shouts something he doesn't quite catch, and somebody - maybe Dustin - is barking for everyone to stay together. It barely registers. As far as Steve is concerned, he is staying together. You're out there somewhere, alone in a place that has just learnt exactly how to separate people from the ones they love, and everything else falls away beneath that single, brutal certainty. The plan, the map Nancy had spent hours drawing, the routes they'd carefully agreed to follow, even Vecna himself - all of it is pushed aside by one overwhelming instinct. You are alone, and he has to get to you.

He tears through the dead woodland without slowing, branches whipping violently across his face and shoulders, leaving thin scratches he doesn't even feel as they catch against his jacket. Thick vines snake across the forest floor, looping around his boots often enough that he nearly loses his footing twice, while ash swirls through the beam of his flashlight so densely that the trees seem to dissolve into shifting silhouettes before reforming again.

Every movement in the corner of his vision demands a second glance he doesn't have time to give. Every twisted trunk looks like somebody standing just beyond the light until he gets close enough to realise it's only another dead tree.

"Honey!"

His voice tears through the forest, louder than he intends, echoing strangely through the endless stillness before disappearing into the red-grey haze.

Nothing.

He doesn't hesitate.

"Honey!"

Again, only silence answers him. Not true silence - the Upside Down is never truly silent - but the slow groan of old trees, the distant crackle of vines shifting somewhere beyond the flashlight beam, the soft hiss of ash drifting endlessly from a sky that has forgotten what daylight looks like.

Less than two minutes ago, something in this place had been shouting your name over and over again, loud enough to pull you halfway across the forest without a second thought.

Now...

Nothing.

The silence feels deliberate somehow, as though the Upside Down has already said everything it needed to say.

Steve runs harder.

He can hear the others crashing through the undergrowth somewhere behind him, Dustin already beginning to fall behind while Jonathan stubbornly refuses to let him disappear entirely from sight, but they're little more than background noise now.

His own heartbeat pounds so violently against his ribs that it drowns almost everything else out, each breath burning harder than the last as one thought repeats over and over with desperate, unbearable simplicity.

Please answer.

Please.

Please-

A scream tears through the forest.

Steve stops breathing.

It isn't his name.

It isn't even words.

It's one raw, involuntary cry, ripped straight from somebody's chest before cutting off so abruptly it feels as though the air itself has been stolen away mid-breath.

His stomach drops.

Not because he recognises the voice, though he does immediately.

Because he recognises the fear.

The voices that had lured you away had been almost unnervingly perfect. They'd sounded exactly like him, exactly like Nancy, every sentence carefully chosen, every plea just convincing enough to override reason. Looking back, they were almost too perfect, polished in a way real panic never is.

This...

This isn't like that.

This scream isn't performed.

It isn't trying to imitate terror.

It is terror.

"Hurry!" he shouts to the others behind him, though he barely realises the words have left his mouth.

He changes direction instantly, boots skidding across loose earth as he throws himself towards the sound with reckless desperation. Branches claw at his sleeves, vines wrap around his ankles, ash blinds him for a heartbeat at a time, but none of it is enough to slow him down. Every instinct in his body is screaming that he is running out of time, and he pushes harder, lungs burning, muscles protesting, the forest seeming to resist every step as though it doesn't want him reaching you.

Then, without warning, the trees fall away.

Steve bursts into the clearing so fast he almost loses his footing entirely, stopping so abruptly that Dustin crashes into his back a second later before Jonathan catches them both.

Nobody moves.

Nobody speaks.

Even the forest seems to hold its breath.

You're suspended several feet above the ground.

Your head is thrown back so far it looks painful, your eyes rolled white beneath half-closed lids, arms drifting slowly outwards as though invisible hands are pulling them wider inch by inch. Your feet hang limp beneath you, toes barely disturbing the ash swirling below, while your fingers twitch and curl into impossible, unnatural shapes that Steve has seen once before and prayed he'd never have to witness again.

His mind doesn't even need a second to make the connection.

Another girl.

Another impossible choice.

Another body floating helplessly beneath a blood-red sky.

Max.

"Oh, God..."

The words escape him before he realises he's spoken them.

Everything inside him turns to ice.

No.

No.

God, no.

He's too late.

By the time Nancy reaches the clearing, Robin is only a step behind her, Lucas and Mike close on their heels, all of them arriving breathless enough that the sight before them steals what little air they had left.

Dustin reaches for Steve's arm instinctively, fingers wrapping around his sleeve before he even seems to realise he's done it, while Robin says your name just once, so quietly it barely sounds like a word at all. It comes out as disbelief more than anything else, as though saying it aloud might somehow make what she's looking at impossible. Lucas swears under his breath, a sharp, horrified sound swallowed almost immediately by the dead forest, and Nancy doesn't waste a second. Panic has always made her practical. She's already scanning the clearing, already looking for an answer, already searching for something - anything - they can still do.

Everyone is talking at once.

"What do we do?"

"Get her down!"

"El-"

"Steve!"

"The music-"

The voices blur together into meaningless noise. Steve hears them, but they never quite become words. His entire world has narrowed to the impossible image hanging in front of him.

To you.

Your head is still thrown back unnaturally, your body suspended several feet above the ash-covered ground, but then he notices something that turns his blood to ice.

Your lips are moving.

Slowly.

Almost conversationally.

As though you're talking to somebody standing right in front of you.

No sound comes out.

For one terrible, endless moment, Steve feels completely useless.

He has always known what to do. Swing the bat. Get between the monster and the kids. Buy everybody enough time to run. Keep moving until the danger passes. Even when he was terrified, there had always been something practical to hold onto, some action that made fear feel manageable.

Now...

There is nothing.

He takes one step forward, instinctively positioning himself beneath you before stopping again, his hands lifting helplessly as though he might somehow be able to catch you despite the impossible distance between you. Every instinct tells him to reach for you, to pull you back, to fix this somehow, but he can't even touch you.

His gaze flicks desperately towards Eleven, searching her face for reassurance she doesn't have, and for the first time since this nightmare began, he realises he genuinely has no idea what he's supposed to do.

Then something clicks.

The backpack. His backpack.

Before anyone can even finish shouting over one another, Steve is already dropping to his knees, wrenching the zip open with shaking hands and throwing supplies blindly into the ash as he searches. Flashlights. Rope. Spare batteries. Bandages. Everything he'd packed because somebody might need it. Dustin starts to ask what he's doing, but Steve barely hears him.

His fingers close around cold plastic.

The Walkman.

Hidden beneath spare ammunition and first-aid supplies is the cassette he'd tucked away weeks ago without ever mentioning it to you, your favourite album carefully rewound and ready to play.

He'd packed it after Max. Quietly. Secretly. Not because he'd expected to use it, but because the idea of ever standing helplessly beside another person he loved without at least trying had become unbearable.

Of course he'd brought it.

Of course he had.

Somewhere else, somewhere that doesn't feel like a place so much as a memory that's forgotten how to end, you are running.

The world around you is wrong in ways your mind can't quite untangle. Streets fold into childhood bedrooms, school corridors open into empty forests, and every familiar place seems to shift the moment you look away from it, rearranging itself into something almost recognisable before slipping just beyond understanding again.

Faces appear in the distance - people you love, people you've known your whole life - but something about them feels subtly, nauseatingly off. Their smiles linger too long. Their eyes don't quite meet yours. Their voices sound as though they're being remembered by someone who has never actually spoken to them.

Ahead of you, Steve appears between two dead trees.

He smiles.

He lifts a hand.

"Come here."

Relief floods through you so suddenly your legs almost buckle.

You take one step-

The image tears apart like paper caught in a fire.

The smile vanishes.

The trees dissolve into darkness.

And from somewhere beyond the endless red horizon, something begins to move.

Vecna emerges slowly, impossibly tall against the crimson landscape, each measured step echoing through the empty expanse until the sound seems to come from every direction at once.

He doesn't hurry. He doesn't need to.

One grotesquely elongated hand stretches towards you, fingers unfurling with terrifying patience, while his voice settles around you like smoke.

"You've always been so willing to follow."

You stumble backwards.

He keeps coming.

"There was never any question."

His hand reaches your face.

Long fingers press gently against your temple.

Your vision whites out.

Back in the Upside Down, your body jerks violently.

Robin gasps.

Steve looks up just in time to see you rise higher, another few feet lifting you into the air until you're suspended almost twelve feet above the ground, your arms beginning to spread wider as though invisible vines are pulling every joint apart one careful inch at a time.

The cassette clicks into place.

Music erupts from the tiny portable speaker, far too small for a clearing this large, the sound fighting desperately against the endless groan of the Upside Down.

Nothing happens.

Steve turns the volume higher.

Still nothing.

It can't have been more than a minute.

It feels like hours.

He stares up at you, desperately searching for any sign that you've heard it - that your fingers twitched differently, that your breathing changed, that something, anything, reached you - but your expression never changes.

Around him, nobody says it aloud.

Nobody has to.

They're all thinking exactly the same thing.

They're losing you.

Inside the vision, everything begins to unravel.

Your memories spill around you in broken fragments, recognisable enough to hurt but twisted just enough to become unbearable.

Steve turns away from you without looking back.

Robin laughs as she walks past, pretending not to know your name.

Empty rooms stretch endlessly before you, years of your life collapsing into quiet apartments where nobody ever comes to visit, birthdays forgotten, phone calls unanswered, photographs fading one by one until every face disappears.

You try to run.

The world doesn't let you.

Invisible vines wrap themselves tighter around your ribs every time you struggle, stealing each breath before it can properly fill your lungs.

"I told you," Vecna's voice murmurs somewhere behind you, everywhere at once. "Nobody ever loved you."

The memory changes.

Steve smiles sadly.

"I just felt sorry for you."

Another.

You watch your own funeral.

Nobody cries.

"The others will barely notice you're gone."

"No..." you whisper.

"They'll move on."

"No!"

You fight harder now, twisting violently against restraints you still can't see, tears streaming freely down your face as panic overtakes reason.

Nothing works.

Every desperate movement only seems to tighten whatever is holding you in place, until your screams barely escape your throat at all.

This is it.

You're never getting out.

And somehow, impossibly, the worst part isn't even that you're about to die.

It's Steve.

You heard him.

He sounded terrified.

He needed you.

You never reached him.

As another tear slips down your cheek, all you can do is pray that wherever he is, whatever found him, he made it out.

Please let him be okay.

Please let him survive this.

Even if you don't.

Suddenly-

another voice.

So quiet at first you almost mistake it for another trick.

"...Hey."

Not Vecna.

Steve.

Real Steve.

It barely reaches you, no louder than a memory, but you'd know that voice anywhere.

Vecna's words continue, louder now, trying to drown it out, but Steve keeps speaking anyway, his voice weaving itself carefully through every lie.

"Remember Family Video?"

The darkness flickers.

"The day I asked you out? You spilt that whole thing of popcorn all over the floor, then looked me dead in the eye and tried to convince me it'd already been there before you got there. You were so serious about it, I almost believed you."

Another memory.

Your first date.

"Remember when I tried so hard to impress you that I spent twenty minutes pretending I knew what I was talking about, and then you asked one follow-up question and I had to admit I'd completely made it up? You laughed so hard you nearly fell off the bench. I thought I'd ruined the whole date. You told me afterwards it was the moment you actually started liking me."

The first time he'd kissed you.

"Do you remember our first kiss? I kept saying goodnight and then not leaving. I think I said it three times. You finally laughed and told me, 'Steve, either kiss me or go home.' So I kissed you… And then I still stood there for another five minutes because I didn't actually want to leave."

The first time he'd laughed so hard he'd nearly fallen off the bonnet of his car.

"Remember when we stayed in the Family Video parking lot for almost two hours after my shift because we kept saying, 'Okay, one more story,' and then neither of us ever left? You got halfway through telling me about the weird dream you'd had where Robin somehow became President, and you were doing all the voices. I laughed so hard I nearly fell straight off the bonnet of the car. You laughed because I was laughing, and neither of us could stop."

Every story arrives exactly as it happened, warm and ordinary and completely, stubbornly true.

Vecna's voice rises in fury.

Steve's doesn't.

It just keeps talking.

Keeps reminding you.

Keeps loving you loudly enough to be heard.

The vines around your wrists loosen.

Only slightly.

But enough.

You pull.

They give.

Suddenly you're falling forward onto solid ground instead of hanging helplessly in the endless red expanse, and for the first time since this nightmare began you can see it.

A tear in the darkness.

Beyond it-

the clearing.

Your own body suspended in the air.

Nancy.

Robin.

Max.

Everyone looking up at you in horror.

And directly beneath you...

Steve.

His face is streaked with ash and panic, his mouth still moving as he tells another story, another memory, another reason to come back.

You can hear him now.

Perfectly.

Each word grows louder as you begin to run towards him, the impossible distance between you shrinking with every desperate step across the crimson landscape. He's reaching for you, even though he can't possibly touch you from where he stands, and somehow you know exactly where the gap in this red hellscape leads.

You're almost there.

Close enough to see the tears in his eyes.

Close enough to hear him say your name.

Close enough that if you just keep running-

For one suspended, impossible heartbeat, nothing happens.

Then your body drops.

There isn't a graceful descent, no slow drifting back towards the earth. One moment you're hanging impossibly high above them, the next the invisible force holding you gives way entirely, and you plummet towards the ash-covered ground.

Steve is already moving.

He catches you before you can hit the forest floor, the force of your body slamming into his hard enough to send him stumbling backwards. His knees buckle beneath the impact, Dustin grabbing his shoulder just in time to stop both of you crashing into the roots behind him, but Steve barely notices. He's already wrapping both arms around you, pulling you instinctively against his chest as though he can somehow shield you from whatever has just happened simply by refusing to let go.

"Hey, hey, hey..." His voice is shaking so badly he barely recognises it as his own. "I've got you. I've got you."

He lowers you both gently to the ground, pulling you into the safety of his lap.

You don't answer.

Not immediately.

Your body is trembling violently in his arms, each breath catching somewhere high in your chest before dissolving into another sob, your eyes squeezed shut as though opening them might drag you straight back into whatever nightmare you've just escaped. Steve's heart lurches into his throat.

"Flashlight," Nancy says quietly somewhere behind him.

He barely hears her.

His other hand cups your jaw instead, carefully tilting your face towards him just enough to check your pupils, his thumb brushing absent-mindedly across the tears still clinging to your cheek.

"Hey."

Nothing.

"Honey."

His voice breaks completely on the nickname.

"Come on."

Your eyelashes flutter.

Then, slowly, your eyes open.

They don't focus immediately. They dart frantically around the clearing, pupils wide with panic, as though you're still trying to work out which world you're standing in. For a terrifying second, Steve isn't sure you recognise him at all.

Then your gaze catches his.

Relief floods across your face so suddenly it almost hurts to look at.

Your fingers seize handfuls of his jacket before he can say another word, clutching the fabric with desperate, shaking hands.

"Steve."

"I'm here."

"What..." Your voice catches painfully. "Why were you screaming?"

Steve freezes.

"I heard you." The words tumble out faster now, tripping over one another as tears continue spilling unchecked down your face. "You sounded scared. You kept calling me and I- I tried to find you, but..." You shake your head hard, still gripping him so tightly he can feel your hands trembling through the denim. "Are you hurt? What happened? Where were you? Steve..."

Every question lands like a punch to the ribs.

You still think you were trying to save him.

You have absolutely no idea what really happened.

Steve opens his mouth.

He almost tells you.

Almost explains the voices, the mimicry, the impossible horror of hearing himself call your name while standing half a mile away. He almost tells you how close he'd come to losing you, how he'd watched you floating beneath that ruined sky exactly the way Max had, how for one unbearable moment he'd genuinely believed this was the last time he'd ever hold you.

Then he really looks at you.

You're shaking so violently your teeth chatter between words. Every breath is too quick, too shallow, your chest rising and falling in uneven bursts that never quite seem to fill your lungs. Even now, even after everything, your hands are moving over him in frantic little checks, brushing across his shoulders, his face, his arms, searching desperately for injuries that aren't there.

You're still trying to make sure he's okay.

This isn't the moment for explanations.

What you need isn't the truth.

You need certainty.

Without saying another word, Steve slides one hand gently to the back of your head and pulls you against him, his other arm wrapping securely around your shoulders until there's barely any space left between you. He can feel your heartbeat hammering wildly against his chest, completely out of rhythm with his own, and so he simply holds you there, one hand stroking slowly through your hair as though reminding you, over and over again, that he's solid.

Real.

Alive.

"I'm here," he murmurs quietly, resting his forehead against yours. "You're okay."

You shake your head weakly.

"No, but-"

"I'm here."

"I thought-"

"I know."

"I couldn't get to you."

"You don't have to."

His voice is impossibly gentle now, every word spoken with the same quiet certainty.

"I'm here, baby. I'm not hurt. I promise."

Another sob catches somewhere deep inside your chest.

"I'll explain everything when we get out of here, okay?"

He waits until your eyes find his again before continuing.

"But right now..." His thumb brushes carefully beneath your eye, wiping away another tear before it has the chance to fall. "...I've got you."

Your breathing catches.

Then, slowly, almost without either of you noticing, it begins to change.

One shaky breath.

Then another.

Steve doesn't ask you to breathe with him. He simply breathes himself, slow and steady, holding you close enough that your body has something solid to follow. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the frantic rhythm of your breathing begins to match his own, each inhale a little deeper than the last until your shoulders stop shaking quite so violently.

Only then does Steve finally lift his head.

Over your shoulder, the rest of the group stand scattered around the clearing in complete silence.

Nobody speaks.

Robin's hands are still clasped tightly over her mouth. Dustin has gone unnaturally pale. Eddie stares fixedly at the place where you'd been hanging only moments before, while Nancy slowly lowers the shotgun she'd forgotten she was still holding. Even Eleven, exhausted as she is, looks quietly shaken.

None of them need to say what they're all thinking.

The Upside Down hadn't almost fooled them.

It had almost taken you.

And for one unbearable moment...

it very nearly succeeded.

By the time you all make it back to Hawkins, the adrenaline has long since burnt itself out, leaving behind only the kind of exhaustion that settles somewhere deeper than your bones.

Nobody feels much like talking.

The drive back is almost entirely silent, broken only by the occasional crackle of the radio somebody had forgotten to switch off and Robin quietly asking if anyone wants to stop for food before immediately deciding she isn't actually hungry after all.

You end up back at Steve's house.

Somebody makes tea. Somebody else disappears upstairs and comes back with blankets that don't quite match. Dustin spends five solid minutes insisting he isn't tired before promptly falling asleep in the armchair with his head tipped awkwardly against the cushions. Jonathan and Nancy sit shoulder to shoulder on the opposite sofa without saying much of anything, content simply to exist in the same room now that they're all accounted for.

Relief, it turns out, isn't loud. It doesn't arrive with celebration or triumphant laughter. It arrives softly, in mugs of tea gone cold before anyone remembers to drink them, in blankets tucked carefully around shaking shoulders, in the quiet reassurance of counting heads every few minutes and finding that everyone is still there.

You're lying along Steve's sofa, a blanket pulled loosely over you despite the warmth of the room, your eyes half-closed with exhaustion.

Every muscle aches. Your head feels heavy, your thoughts slower than usual, as though some part of you is still trying to find its way back from wherever Vecna had taken you.

Steve hasn't left your side once.

He's sitting on the floor beside the sofa, his shoulder resting lightly against the cushions, one hand absently cradling the back of your head where it hangs over the armrest, his thumb brushing slow, absent-minded circles through your hair every now and then as though reassuring himself that you're still solid beneath his fingertips.

He waits.

Not because he's unsure whether to ask, but because he's spent the last hour watching you slowly return to yourself, and he isn't willing to rush whatever fragile peace has finally settled over the room.

Eventually, when everyone else's conversations have faded into comfortable background noise, he speaks so quietly you're almost convinced you've imagined it.

"...Can I ask you something?"

You turn your head just enough to look at him and give the smallest nod.

He hesitates for a moment, eyes dropping to where his hand still rests against your hair before he quietly asks, "...What exactly did it sound like?"

You know immediately what he means.

"The voice?"

Steve nods once.

"It sounded like..." You swallow. "...You."

He smiles sadly, shaking his head almost before you've finished.

"No." His voice is gentle. "Not who it sounded like."

A beat passes.

"...What did it say?"

You frown.

At first, all you can remember is the panic. The fear. The overwhelming certainty that Steve was somewhere ahead of you, frightened and alone. The details blur together, slipping through your fingers every time you try to hold onto them.

Then, slowly, one sentence surfaces.

Your expression changes.

"...It said..." You stop, hearing it again exactly as you had in the forest.

"'Come find me.'"

The room falls quiet.

Steve doesn't answer straight away.

Instead, he looks down at the floor between you for a long moment, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly as something clicks into place.

You see it happen.

The same realisation finds you a heartbeat later.

"...You'd never say that."

Steve looks back up. "... No. I wouldn't."

You keep turning the memory over in your mind, examining it from every angle now that you know it wasn't real, and suddenly the whole thing feels obvious in a way it hadn't before.

"You'd tell me to stay where I was."

Another slow nod.

"Yeah."

Silence settles between you again.

Then, almost as an afterthought, he quietly adds, "...Or I'd come to you."

You stare at him.

Because he's right.

Of course he's right.

If it had been true - if Steve had genuinely been lost somewhere in the Upside Down, terrified and unable to reach you - he would never have asked you to run blindly towards him. He'd have told you to stay put. To hide. To wait. He'd have found a way to reach you himself, even if it meant walking straight back into danger.

The voice had been perfect.

Every inflexion. Every hesitation. Every tiny detail that made it unmistakably Steve.

But it had made one fatal mistake.

It had copied his voice.

Not his heart.

You let out a shaky breath, something between a laugh and a sob.

"It knew how you sounded," you murmur, more to yourself than anyone else. "It just... didn't know you."

Steve's expression softens.

"No," he agrees quietly. "It didn't."

Because that's who Steve is.

The Upside Down had understood your fear. It had understood your memories, your instincts, the people whose voices would make you run without thinking. But it had failed to understand something much simpler, and much harder to imitate.

Steve Harrington has never asked the people he loves to walk into danger for him.

He goes first.

Always has.

Always will.

For a long while, nobody says anything.

The house settles into one of those rare silences that only follows genuine fear, where nobody quite trusts themselves to speak because doing so would mean acknowledging how close they'd all come to losing someone.

The mugs of tea on the coffee table have long since gone cold, and outside, somewhere beyond the curtains, a car passes along the quiet suburban street, blissfully unaware that the world has almost ended again.

You find yourself looking around the room instead.

At Robin, curled awkwardly into the corner of the sofa with her knees tucked beneath her chin.

At Nancy, staring absently into her untouched cup of tea.

At Jonathan, who hasn't taken his eyes off Nancy since they got back.

At Max, quieter than usual, her expression unreadable as she turns an empty cassette case over and over between her hands.

And at Steve, still sitting beside you on the floor, his shoulder resting lightly against the sofa, as though moving even a few feet further away from you somehow feels impossible after what happened.

It is Will who finally breaks the silence.

His voice is quiet enough that everyone has to look up to hear it.

"...We need a new rule."

No one answers immediately.

Not because anyone disagrees.

Because they all know he's right.

The old rules had kept them alive this long. Stay together. Keep the radios on. Don't make unnecessary noise. Don't split up unless you absolutely have to.

Now those rules weren't enough anymore.

Will draws a slow breath before continuing.

"If you hear somebody calling your name..."

He trails off, unable - or perhaps unwilling - to finish the sentence himself.

Steve does it for him.

"...Don't answer."

The words land heavily in the room.

Nobody argues.

Nobody even questions them.

Robin swallows hard, her eyes fixed somewhere on the carpet as she quietly adds, "...Even if it sounds exactly like us."

Another silence follows.

Longer this time.

Because that is the part none of them wants to say aloud.

Not just don't answer a stranger.

Don't answer Dustin.

Don't answer Nancy.

Don't answer Steve.

Don't answer the people you love most in the world.

The room feels colder somehow.

You glance at Steve beside you, and for the briefest moment you wonder whether, if you heard him calling for you again tomorrow, you could really ignore it.

The thought alone makes your chest tighten.

Dustin is the first to move.

Without a word, he reaches for the battered Hellfire emergency pack that's been dragged through almost every disaster the group has survived, unzips the front pocket and rummages around until he finds a thick black permanent marker.

He hesitates only briefly before uncapping it.

Then, kneeling on the living-room floor with the backpack balanced across his knees, he opens the inside flap where every previous rule has already been scribbled in increasingly cramped handwriting over the years.

He doesn't ask whether everyone agrees.

He already knows they do.

Slowly, deliberately, he writes beneath the others.

RULE #8

IF YOU HEAR SOMEONE YOU LOVE CALLING YOUR NAME...

DO NOT FOLLOW THE VOICE.

The ink is still wet when he snaps the cap back onto the marker.

Nobody comments on it.

Nobody laughs.

Nobody suggests a better wording.

Because you all understand something they hadn't understood that morning.

The Upside Down hadn't simply learnt your voices.

It had learnt your hearts. Your trusts. Who you love most.

And from now on, surviving would mean learning not to trust them.

The weeks that follow are, by all outward appearances, wonderfully ordinary.

School starts again. Family Video reopens. Robin complains about customers with renewed enthusiasm, the kids fill Steve's house almost every afternoon as though nothing has changed, and somebody inevitably starts an argument over whose turn it is to choose the film.

Life, stubbornly and almost offensively, continues.

Some days you're almost convinced you're beginning to forget.

Not what happened.

Just the feeling of it.

The constant certainty that something terrible is waiting just beyond the next corner gradually loosens its grip, replaced by familiar routines and evenings spent piled into living rooms with takeaway cartons balanced on your knees, laughing over things that would've seemed impossibly trivial only a few weeks earlier.

It gets easier.

Not better.

Just... easier.

Until one quiet evening.

Steve's house is unusually still, the late afternoon sunlight spilling lazily through the bedroom curtains in soft golden stripes that stretch across the duvet. You'd meant to stay awake. You'd only gone upstairs to lie down for half an hour while Steve started making dinner, but somewhere between closing your eyes and listening to the muffled sounds of cupboard doors opening downstairs, sleep had begun to pull gently at the edges of your thoughts.

You're hovering somewhere between dreaming and waking when you hear it.

Your name.

Quiet. Unhurried.

Floating up the staircase from somewhere below.

For one impossible moment, your body forgets where you are.

Your eyes snap open.

Every muscle locks.

Your heart lurches so violently it almost hurts, adrenaline crashing through you before your mind has had the chance to catch up.

You don't answer.

You don't move.

You simply stare at the bedroom door, every instinct warring with itself as the silence stretches on around you.

Because you know that voice.

You know it better than your own.

But you also know where that certainty almost led you.

The room remains perfectly still.

Downstairs, you hear nothing more than the faint clatter of something being set on the kitchen counter, followed by footsteps crossing the hallway.

A minute passes.

Maybe less.

It feels much longer.

Then the floorboards outside the bedroom creak softly, and a gentle knock sounds against the half-open door before Steve appears in the doorway, one hand still holding a tea towel he'd evidently forgotten to put down.

He smiles when he sees you're awake, though it fades almost immediately when he notices the way you're sitting rigid against the headboard, your breathing still just a little too fast.

"...Hey."

You don't answer straight away.

He tilts his head, confusion flickering briefly across his face.

"I called you."

A beat.

"...Why didn't you answer?"

Your throat tightens.

You look at him.

That's all you do.

You look at him, and in the space of a heartbeat you watch the question disappear from his expression.

Understanding arrives quietly.

Painfully.

His shoulders soften almost imperceptibly, and something in his eyes breaks - not dramatically, not with tears or visible grief, but with the quiet devastation of somebody realising that a wound they desperately hoped had healed is still there beneath the surface.

"Oh."

The word is barely louder than a breath.

Neither of you says anything else.

There isn't really anything to say.

Steve crosses the room without another question, sits carefully on the edge of the bed, and opens one arm in silent invitation.

You move before you've consciously decided to, the tension finally leaving your body as you fold into him, burying your face against his shoulder while he wraps both arms around you with the same steady certainty he always has. One hand settles instinctively at the back of your head, his fingers slipping gently through your hair, while the other rubs slow circles between your shoulder blades until your breathing begins, little by little, to settle again.

He doesn't apologise.

He doesn't tell you that it was only him.

He knows none of that would help.

Instead, he simply holds you, solid and warm and undeniably real, allowing his heartbeat to become the only sound worth listening to.

Outside, the world carries on exactly as it always has. Cars pass along the street. Somewhere, a dog barks. The neighbours laugh over dinner in their garden. Hawkins continues with the blissful normality it has always pretended to possess.

Inside the house, though, something has changed forever.

The tragedy isn't that you failed to answer when Steve called your name.

It's that, somewhere beneath a blood-red sky, the Upside Down had managed to reach into one of the most instinctive acts of love a person can know - the automatic certainty that the voice of someone you love means safety - and twist it into something to be feared.

You escaped.

You survived.

But some echoes don't stay behind when you leave.

And every now and then, on quiet evenings when someone calls your name from another room, you still have to remind yourself that not every voice asking you to follow is trying to lead you into the dark.

dividers: saradika-graphics

new taglist: @whispersoflost, @teheblue, @mr-joel-keeny, @simply-a-book-lover, @je33123, @eller41, @bluehexagon8, @n4ina-07, @prettyfortucker, @leahfaith, @keerymylove, @sexyvixen7, @writingforuandme

[djosnoopy]

some protector — series masterlist

─────── · · status: ongoing · · ───────

pairing: steve harrington x reader series summary: steve harrington used to be your other half. practically bonded at the hip since you were both in diapers, but when he starts high school the steve you once knew no longer seems to exist. instead he's been replaced by an ass who only seems to care about sports, parties, girls, and his popularity. when steve starts seeing your best friend nancy you're forced to face the one thing you've been running from — how you actually feel about steve. but with the disappearance of will byers and your other best friend barbara holland, you come to find out that things are not what they seem in hawkins and steve and you are forced to face more than just how you feel about each other. warnings/includes: cursing, alcohol use, smoking, graphic depictions of death, bad childhoods, mental health issues, survivors guilt, 18+ sex scenes, ptsd, miscommunication x100, friends to strangers to lovers, the slowest of slow burns, angst, and the idea that love prevails all.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

season one: ⟡ chapter one ⟡ chapter two ⟡ chapter three ⟡ chapter four ⟡ chapter five

season two: ⟡ chapter six ⟡ chapter seven ⟡ chapter eight ⟡ chapter nine ⟡ chapter ten ⟡ chapter eleven

season three: ⟡ chapter twelve ⟡ chapter thirteen ⟡ chapter fourteen ⟡ chapter fifteen ⟡ chapter sixteen ⟡ chapter seventeen

season four:

season five:

[xoxo-ada]

the chief's daughter (steve harrington x reader)

MASTERLIST

| DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE. reblogs are fine and appreciated! |

DISCLAIMER: in this story y/n is described as female, however it is up to you what she looks like!

after hawkins, indiana experiences the tragedy of will byers going missing, y/n hopper discovers that there is more to her life than grades and cigarette smoke. there's things she can't escape. things like secret labs, monsters, portals to other dimensions, and worst of all, her best friends boyfriend, steve harrington.

this is a slow burn fan fic that goes throughout all seasons of stranger things. steve and reader do get together eventually, i promise!

you’ll be able to see what season im currently working on/have finished by if the episode titles are there or not for that season!

my masterlist

SEASON ONE:

the vanishing of will byers the weirdo on maple street holly, jolly the body the flea and the acrobat the monster the bathtub the upside down

SEASON TWO:

madmax trick or treat, freak the pollywog will the wise dig dug the spy the lost sister the mind flayer the gate

SEASON THREE:

suzie, do you copy? the mall rats the case of the missing lifeguard the sauna test the flayed e pluribus unum the bite the battle of starcourt

SEASON FOUR:

the hellfire club vecna's curse the monster and the superhero dear billy the nina project the dive the massacre at hawkins lab papa the piggyback

SEASON FIVE:

n/a

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist <3

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

Steve sneaking into his girl's room at her house for the first time

Six Little Nuggets Masterlist

Requests are OPEN!

1986

He waits until the house is quiet.

Not empty — her house is never empty — but settled. The kind of quiet that comes after dishes are done and doors are closed and everyone has retreated to their own little pockets of night after dinner and late night show marathons.

Steve parks down the street, killing the engine too early and just sitting there for a second with his hands on the steering wheel.

He was supposed to go home.

He knows that.

But the idea of walking back into his dark, silent house after dropping her off feels… wrong. Like stepping out of something warm into the cold.

So here he is.

Her window is on the side of the house, second floor, half-hidden by a trellis her mom insists makes the place “charming.” Steve has scaled fences, walls, and literal hell dimensions before. This should be easy.

It is not easy.

He slips once, swearing under his breath, and freezes like a cartoon burglar until the window slides open just enough for her to whisper:

“Steve—!”

He looks up, grinning innocently.

“Hi.”

She hauls him in by the sleeve before he can say anything else, hands clamped over his mouth to keep him quiet as they both try not to laugh. The window clicks shut. Curtains are pulled.

They just stand there, breathing too fast, faces inches apart.

“What were you thinking?!” she whisper-yells. For a moment he fears she’s mad at him, but the way she carefully pulls a few leaves out of his hair tells him she isn’t.

“Was thinking I could drop by and… Give you one last goodnight kiss,” he says grinning. His eyes soften, biting his lip. “Maybe stay with you?”

She just blushes, shaking her head.

“You’re insane,” she whispers.

“For you, yeah. I’m crazy,” he leans down. “You didn’t tell me to go home, though” he whispers back.

She doesn’t.

She doesn’t want him by himself in that big cold house as well. She would much rather have him with her, forever.

And because forever is still a far way down the road, tonight will be enough for now.

“You can stay.”

And that seals it.

That’s when reality hits them.

She’s still in her evening outfit, her pj’s already laying on the bed. But he he’s still in jeans, his sweater, his jacket. He hasn’t got any other clothes with him.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “You can’t sleep dressed like that.”

“It’s not like I have any other options,” he says. “I can always try on one of your nightgowns?”

She stares at him for a second, totally unimpressed, then bolts for the door.

“I’ll be right back.”

Steve sits on her bed, hands on his knees, taking in everything — her posters, her books, the faint glow of a little lamp she definitely doesn’t need but keeps anyway. At nighttime, her room feels intimate in a way that makes his chest ache.

In the hallway, her brother catches her tiptoeing out of the laundry room.

“Why are you stealing my shirt,” he mutters, half asleep, leaning against the bathroom door where he just walked out from.

She jumps anyway. “I’m not stealing it. I’m borrowing it.”

“At midnight?”

“…Yes.”

“For what…?”

She hesitates half a second too long.

His eyes narrow, and he’s suddenly completely awake now. “…Oh absolutely not!”

“Shh!” she hisses, glancing toward her bedroom like Steve might be able to hear through three walls and a closed door. “Do not start. You owe me!”

He scoffs. “I owe you what, exactly?”

“Do you remember your senior year when you snuck that girl in through the window and Dad almost caught you and I told him you were on the phone with your friends crying about your algebra final and that he shouldn’t go into your room or you would cry all over your notes in embarrassment and fail?”

“That was one time.”

“That was four times. And I never told anyone about the time you got beer spilled on the carpet, to which Mom blamed Dad for a week.”

“…You’re evil.”

“I’m loyal,” she corrects. “And right now I’m asking for a t-shirt.”

He rubs his face, suddenly way too awake. “Who is it?”

“…Steve.”

That makes him stop.

“Steve as in Harrington?”

“Yes, Steve Harrington. My boyfriend. Who is currently in my room. Not doing anything. Literally just existing.”

“Uh-huh. Existing horizontally?”

“We’re not even in bed yet,” she snaps. “I just need a shirt because he can’t go to the bathroom without getting caught and he’s not sleeping in jeans and his jacket like a psychopath.”

Her brother stares at her. She stares back.

Finally he sighs, defeated. “One night. One. No funny business.”

“I swear.”

“No kissing.”

“Oh please.”

“No making out.”

“You’re ruining romance.”

“No weird noises.”

“I hate you.”

“And if I hear anything,” he adds, jabbing a finger toward her, “I’m telling Mom and Dad before you wake up.”

She grabs a t-shirt from his hand. “You’re the worst. I love you.”

“Get out. Love you too.”

She darts back down the hall, heart pounding like she’s just pulled off the world’s most dramatic heist.

When she slips back into her room, Steve looks up immediately.

“You got caught, didn’t you.”

“No,” she whispers proudly, holding up the shirt. “I got interrogated.”

He snorts, covering his mouth with his hand. “Oh my god.”

She tosses the shirt at him. It’s old, soft, and definitely smells like home. “Here. Put it on.”

“Okay but—” He stops, glancing at her. “Where do I…?”

“Oh. Right.”

They freeze.

Simultaneously: “I won’t look.”

Simultaneously: “…You’re totally going to look.”

They turn around anyway.

Steve peels off his jacket and sweater, trying to be fast and quiet, which is impossible because he is painfully aware that he is in his girlfriend’s bedroom changing clothes at the same time he can hear her doing exactly the same. He swears he feels her eyes on him and tries not to laugh.

She absolutely peeks.

He catches her reflection in the mirror and grins. “Hey!”

“You peeked too!”

“I was checking for monsters.”

“In my room?!”

“Yeah, there was one very cute one.”

She throws a pillow at him.

They finally get settled — him in the old shirt and his boxers, her in something soft and warm — and then comes the next hurdle.

The bed.

They sit on opposite sides like it’s a diplomatic negotiation.

“So,” Steve whispers. “What side do you…?”

“I usually sleep in the middle so…”

“…Me too.”

They both giggle, the kind of breathless, giddy laugh that only happens when you’re trying not to be heard and failing anyway.

This isn’t Steve’s first time sharing a bed with a girl. Not even close. But this feels different — heavier and lighter all at once, like something that matters more than he knows how to say.

“So… do we…?” he murmurs.

She scoots closer without hesitation. “Yeah. We do.”

They lie down carefully at first, stiff and hyper-aware of every inch of space between them, like if either of them moves too fast the whole thing might break. Steve’s arm hovers for a second, unsure, then he gently drapes it around her waist like he’s asking permission with his entire body.

She answers by curling into him.

“Oh,” he breathes, surprised by how perfectly she fits there.

“Good oh?” she whispers, lips brushing his collarbone.

“Very good oh.”

They’re close now — really close — her head tucked under his chin, his hand warm against her back, their legs tangled together in a way that makes it impossible to tell where one of them ends and the other begins. She sighs, long and content, shifting just a little closer so there’s no space left at all.

For a moment they just stay like that, breathing each other in.

Then she tilts her head up, eyes soft in the low light. Steve looks down at her and something in his chest just… goes.

“Hi,” she whispers.

“Hi,” he whispers back.

They kiss — slow at first, tentative, like they’re both still half-afraid this is a dream. Then it deepens, gentle but real, mouths fitting together in a way that makes her toes curl and Steve’s heart race. They share kisses for a long while then, quietly, noses bumping, lips brushing and parting, smiling into each other’s mouths because they’re trying not to laugh and failing.

It’s sweet and messy and ridiculously intimate, especially for a room that technically belongs to her childhood self.

Eventually they pull back, foreheads resting together, both a little breathless.

The house creaks. Someone coughs down the hall.

They freeze.

Steve whispers, “If your brother kills me, tell everyone I died bravely.”

“I’ll put it on your tombstone,” she whispers back.

They press their faces into each other’s shoulders, shaking with silent laughter until it fades into soft, quiet breaths again.

The nervous energy melts away after that. What’s left is warmth — his arm around her, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest, the steady rhythm of their breathing syncing up.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she whispers, voice soft against his neck.

He smiles, brushing a kiss into her hair, his fingers brushing down her back lazily. “Me too.”

Steve holds her a little tighter, feeling her heartbeat, her warmth, the way she relaxes completely against him like that’s where she belongs. The house might be loud and crowded and a little risky, but right here, under these blankets, it feels like the safest place in the world.

And for the first time in a long time, he falls asleep not just not-alone — but loved.

Six Little Nuggets Masterlist

Taglist: @lovelycurls@fallingwallsh@treebabe@cheetoscmj @chiblackhawks

[meadowfics]

foster child

pairings ━ steve harrington x fem!reader with child!OC

synopsis ━ when the family of a younger girl passes away, you are asked by your colleague to take her in as a foster child. at first, you were nervous, until your boyfriend reminded you at how much he, and you, were made to take care of younger kids.

warnings ━ painful and comforting angst. parental death mentions (for reader and child!OC), somewhat unrealistic, childhood trauma, real historical contexts, vecna, character death (not reader, steve, or child!OC. do not worry). adoption and foster care system.

notes ━ this is based off of this request linked here. child!OC character profile linked here

PART ONE - NOT SO ORDINARY DAY

summary: at work, one of your regulars who works in the foster care system stops by. after bringing up your love for kids, you are asked to foster a child who is in need of a home.

time period: november 1985.

PART TWO - SUPPORT SYSTEM

summary: steve and you are young, taking care of a younger child. ups and downs are expected to happen as the holidays approach.

time period: christmas 1985.

PART THREE - HAPPY BIRTHDAY

summary: jodie's birthday was coming up, and steve gets the group to throw a surprise party for her.

time period: early january 1986

PART FOUR - CHALLENGER

summary: after a horrifying day at school for jodie, you and steve comforted her, even though your mind could not stop thinking about the upside down horrors that she is unaware about.

time: january 28th, 1986

PART FIVE - ROCKIN' ROBIN

summary: jodie found an idol in robin buckley.

time period: august 1986

PART SIX - MR. WHATSIT

summary: when holly disappears, jodie does too and you nearly lose your life while trying to protect her.

time period: november 1987

PART SEVEN - VESSEL

summary: all you wanted to do is bring jodie home, which put you at another risk at death. steve and you get into a heated argument, since your mind was clouded over the decision to fully adopt jodie before someone else could.

time period: november 1987

PART EIGHT - WELCOME HOME

summary: after defeating vecna, jodie saw her biggest fears come to life. she thought abandonment was in her cards, unaware that you and steve would never leave her alone again.

time: november 6th, 1987.

~ season four AU headcannons

~ steve and jodie's hair products

[snoopyharrington]

going, going, gone

summary: you've known steve harrington all your life — he was your first friend in hawkins, your first kiss, and your first heartbreak. it just takes some time for you two to figure out how to be together. word count: 2.6k content/warnings: a bit of angst (happy ending ofc), neglectful parents (for steve and reader), drinking, mentions of parental death (for reader), dad!steve at the end (not with reader) a/n: this was heavily inspired by the song going, going, gone by lucy dacus, which is on one of my fave albums ever, home video <3 i definitely took some creative liberties towards the end because i can't write angst without there being some hope!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Visit Original Link

August 1973

The earliest memory you have of Steve Harrington is his smile. 

You don’t remember how old you were — you were both young, that much you do know. No more than 6 or 7, at some smarmy party at a country club on the outskirts of Hawkins, where both of your parents cared far more about appearances than the happiness of their children.

Your family had just moved to Hawkins after your dad’s company expanded, building a new factory plant in the small town, choosing him to oversee it. You didn’t understand much about the move, just that all your favorite toys and stuffed animals were getting stored away in boxes and your mom got frustrated with you when you fisted at your eyes and cried about not having your teddy to sleep with at night. 

Since moving to Hawkins that July, most of your summer went this way. Your mom already made friends with the other housewives in the neighborhood and dad worked all day at the plant. They left you with a nanny, a nice lady named Marie, but she didn’t care to play with you very much, just make you food and get you ready when your mom alerted her of places you needed to be at — like this one.

You hadn’t gotten to know any of the kids you’d be going to school with, let alone any other children in the neighborhood. In fact, Steve Harrington may have been the first person your age you’d seen in a month.

Steve’s parents acted like yours did. They puffed out their chests and laughed too nasally and drank too much wine. You watched Steve from across the dinner table, eyes slightly squinted, as if you were trying to tell if he was some sort of robot made by adults to make you feel less lonely. Steve was too busy kicking his feet out from under him and stuffing bread in his mouth to notice. Your mom wasn’t.

“Teresa, did you introduce these two?” your mom asked, taking a long sip from her wine glass. Teresa, you assume, was Steve’s mom, who somehow had bigger hair than your mom and a lot of perfume on. She blinked, then plastered a wide grin on. 

“How silly of me!” she exclaimed, and you suddenly felt uncomfortably small beneath her gaze. “Sweetheart, this is my son, Steven Harrington. You two will be at Hawkins Elementary together in the fall. You should get to know each other!”

That’s the only introduction you got before Teresa turned her back to you and Steve, immersing herself back into whatever discussion she’d been having prior.

You sighed heavily and reached forward to pluck a roll out of the bread basket. 

“You get used to it eventually,” The boy in front of you said, making you look up. Your eyes rounded, and he made a vague gesture at the room. “This whole thing. It’s not as bad when you get used to it.”

When he smiled at you, you can’t tell if it’s a genuine one, and you don’t know if you’ve ever seen a little boy look so sad before.

October 1981

The first time you hang out with Steve one-on-one is when you’re 14 years old. 

At first, you think it’s a prank. Over the summer, Steve must have gone through puberty, because he came back to school much taller, with better styled hair, and a deeper voice. You didn’t see him because your parents sent you to an all-girls sleepaway camp, which was a sort-of improvement from accompanying them to country club soirees. 

He also started hanging out with Tommy Hagan, who’s kind of a dick, and you don’t quite understand how they’re friends because Steve’s a nice guy. He’s always been really kind to you, even if you’re not the closest of friends. But that’s why you think the note slipped into your locker is some kind of cruel joke, because there’s no way Steve wants to hang out with you outside of school, tonight.

You quickly crumple up the looseleaf and stuff it in your jeans pocket, grab your textbooks for your next class, and slam your locker shut, deciding to forget about it for now. You’ll have time to ruminate over it after school. 

That’s your plan, anyway, until after eighth period, when Steve’s standing by your locker, hands shoved in his pockets. You want to turn around and run away, but you can’t bring yourself to do it — not when he looks like that. 

“Hey,” Steve greets as you approach your locker, “Did you, um, get my thing?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Your note?”

He nods. “Yeah. Did you get it?”

“That was real?”

The tips of Steve’s ears flush. 

“Of course it was real. Why wouldn’t it be?”

You shrug. 

“Well, are you gonna be there?”

You think for a moment. You have a strict curfew of 8 p.m., otherwise your dad will seriously kill you.

“Yeah, but I can’t be out any later than 8. My dad is really serious about that kind of thing.”

“You’ve never snuck out before?”

“No, Steve.”

He backs off. “Alright, meet me at the park on Grove at 6, then? After dinner?” 

“Sure,” you nod, “I’ll see you then.”

“Cool.” he says it with a smile, and this time, you know it’s real.

In 1980, secret meet-ups at the park become yours and Steve’s thing. 

It’s not so much that you’re hiding from anyone (well, you aren’t, anyway), but it’s nice to have privacy, away from nosy onlookers at school or overbearing opinions from your parents. It’s always at the same time, on the same bench, in the same park. 

At first, they were innocent, if not a little awkward. 

You’d avoid Steve’s eyes, even if conversation flowed freely. You’d gaze at the asphalt or the playground set as you talked about Tommy Hagan’s new girlfriend, Carol, or Steve wanting to try out for the basketball team. 

Within weeks, you felt a bit more comfortable.

“Tommy said he got to second base with Carol,” Steve revealed, and you rolled your eyes.

“As if. I heard her talking about it in the locker room today at gym and she said he went for it and she knocked him off her couch.”

Steve ended up making it on the basketball team after you encouraged him to try out, and your conversations got deeper. He started telling you about how his parents were leaving him alone more often and that he didn’t feel like they were very proud of him. You voiced your fears about making your parents proud. A few weeks later, when you watched the sun set together, he asked to kiss you.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before.” you said, gaze still set on the horizon. You weren’t sure why you admitted that. You were scared he wouldn’t want to kiss you anymore.

“That’s okay,” Steve replied softly, making your stomach do backflips, “I want to be your first.”

So you turned to look at him, and he was much closer than you anticipated, and you nodded. His eyebrows raised slightly, as if he was somewhat surprised that you wanted this too, and he waited a beat, like you were going to change your mind.

But you didn’t, and then he slowly leaned forward to gently seal his lips to yours, and it felt so perfect, so sweet, so Steve, that you can’t believe you hadn’t been spending all your time kissing him before.

April 1987

You’re home from college for the week when your friend, Brandy, convinces you to go with her to some house party. 

Admittedly, you were looking forward to spending your time in Hawkins decompressing from midterms and academics, but you know one night out isn’t going to kill you — especially in your tiny hometown. 

And at first, you’re having a blast. You’re not sure who’s house you’re in, but the vibes are great. The music is fun, the alcohol is flowing, and you’re dancing together without any creeps hitting on either one of you. You haven’t even run into anyone you know yet, which is a serious win considering how small Hawkins, Indiana is. 

“I have to go to the bathroom!” Brandy shouts in your ear, trying to overpower a Michael Jackson song blasting through the living room. “Do you wanna find it with me?”

You shake your head and give her hand a squeeze. “No, I’m okay! I’m gonna grab another drink, though! Meet me in the kitchen!”

Brandy nods and flashes you a smile, and you head to the kitchen while your friend goes in the direction of the stairs. With your red solo cup in hand, you push past some bodies, tugging your skirt down when you finally get to your destination. 

And truthfully, you probably would’ve missed him if you opened the tequila bottle a second or two earlier.

But instead, you looked around the kitchen, maybe subconsciously so, just in case you did know anyone at this party, and lo and behold, you did: Steve Harrington.  

He’s currently got his front pushed up against a pretty brunette, his hand pressed against the wall above her with a smirk on his lips as his other palm finds her ass. You grow nauseous just at the sight of it. 

He doesn’t notice you. He’s too involved with whoever he has in his grasp, and you try to tell yourself that that’s okay, because you, too, have hooked up and dated people since you last saw Steve Harrington. Of course you have.

But for some reason — and maybe it’s the nostalgia of it all, being home, or seeing him in person — all you can think about are those stupid park dates you used to have your freshman year of high school, when Steve became your entire world. Nothing ever came of them, much to your chagrin — you dreamt of the day he would ask you to be his girlfriend, especially once those evenings involved nightly makeout sessions — but then one day he started dating Nancy Wheeler, and your days no longer ended hand in hand.

It killed you. 

Piece by piece, and then all at once. You felt like a shell of a human, all because you let Steve Harrington be your first heartbreak.

Your hand is still wrapped around the handle of vodka when Brandy barrels in the kitchen, talking about how long the bathroom line was. You swallow harshly and reach out to grab her elbow, and she immediately stops when she sees your watery eyes.

“Can we go?” you ask softly. 

She nods and loops her arm around your shoulders.

November 1993

You’re staring at a package of chicken in the poultry aisle, trying to decide if you even want to eat chicken for dinner this week, when you hear your name being called.

You drop the chicken and turn around, eyebrows furrowed. You want to duck and hide when you see its source.

“Holy crap! When’d you get back to town?” Steve asks with a grin, pushing his shopping cart and stopping it next to yours.

“Um…” you shift your weight from foot to foot, wondering if it’s too late to bolt. “Uh, a few weeks ago. My… my dad passed away, so I’m kind of here, settling and taking care of stuff for the time being.”

“Shit,” Steve says, and he genuinely looks like he feels bad, “I’m so sorry, I had no idea. How’s your mom doing? Do you guys need anything?”

“She died in that big earthquake that hit a few years ago,” you reply dismissively, shaking your head. “It’s fine. You know I wasn’t very close with them. I kind of cut things off with them once I graduated college, but they don’t have anyone else to do this type of stuff, and they left everything to me.”

“Wow. That’s… a lot.”

You nod. “Yeah, it is.”

“I mean… if you need anything, I’m still more than happy to help,” Steve says, and you don’t know why but even with years and miles of distance between you two, the mere offer is enough to make you smile. 

“Why am I not surprised that you’re still in this shitty town?” you ask playfully, picking the package of chicken back up and placing it in your cart. He laughs.

“Well, I’ll have you know, I’m the Hawkins Middle baseball coach and sex ed teacher,” he replies, and you let out a loud cackle that makes you smack your hand over your mouth. “I also… I have a daughter. Her mom and I aren’t together, but we co-parent. She lives here, too.”

You raise your eyebrows. “No shit, huh? King Steve’s a dad now.”

“King Steve died a long time ago, sweetheart.”

The pet name makes your face warm and you shake your head, pushing your cart forward. Steve follows your lead.

“What’s your daughter like?” you ask.

“Amazing,” he immediately says. You smile. “Her name’s Ella. She’s four now, so she just started kindergarten. She’s so smart and funny and she’s taught me so much. Being a dad is my favorite thing in the world. I don’t think I knew who I was before this.”

You look over at him, and you swear he’s glowing. In all the years you’ve known Steve, you’ve never seen him look so naturally happy, and it makes your stomach flip, just like it did when you were a teenager kissing him on a bench just before your curfew. 

“I’m really happy to hear that, Steve.” you say, reaching out to touch his hand on the handle of his cart. He stalls for a moment, almost as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself, before allowing himself to relax into your touch, just as you issue a gentle squeeze. 

“She would love you,” Steve continues before grabbing a box of Cheerios off the shelf. “She’d probably think you’re the coolest person ever.”

You snort. “Why?”

“‘Cos you are,” he says with a shrug. “You always have been. The coolest, smartest, prettiest… I was too stupid to see it for a long time, but I figured it out.”

You blink, wondering if you’re stuck in some kind of alternate timeline. Steve clears his throat. You look down at the speckled tiled floors, then back up at the brunette man before you, who somehow isn’t a little boy or a lost teenager with sad eyes anymore. 

“Um, I’m staying in my parents’ house and it’s weird,” you admit, laughing breathily, “But I feel like… I don’t know, maybe it would be a little less weird with you in it? So if that offer to… if I need anything, if that still stands, you can come over. I would like you to come over, is what I’m saying.”

A grin paints itself on Steve’s face. Small wrinkles edge themselves at the edges of his eyes, and he’s never looked so beautiful. 

“I would love to,” he says. “Ella’s at her mom’s tonight. Does— is that okay?”

“That’s perfect.”

In 10 years or so, you’ll tell a lie to yourself and say that your love story with Steve Harrington began in the poultry aisle at the grocery store, which is one of the more unremarkably romantic spots in the world. 

Really, though, you both know it began in August 1973, when you sat across from him in a stuffy country club. You didn’t know it then, but any day that ends with his hand in yours means it's a good one.

[usedtobecooler]

gator tillman makes a desperate phone call to the pretty girl who's been blowing up his cell and ends up getting a surprise when her sister answers on the other line instead. 1.9k words.

tw: sexual content 18+ minors dni, gator tillman's embarrassing inner monologue, reader has tits and a vagina, phone sex, (actually very mean) insults, dirty talk, degradation kink, m masturbation. no description of reader, though it's implied she's not gator's typical type.

overnight patrols. easily the most mundane shifts to be put on, and currently gator's punishment for whatever idiotic shit he did to piss his dad off this time.

under the cover of darkness, hidden out in his cruiser, under a tree well out of the way of his fathers latest operation (as he was warned to be), gator almost chokes on the cool ranch dorito he ungracefully shoved in his mouth before opening his snapchat.

nara vincent's perky tits stare back at him from the dimly lit blue light of his phone screen. she's cute, a little dumb, and eager to please, but holy shit she's bangin'. her cherry chapstick-laden lips curl up into a coy, barely seen smile behind her cleavage she's kindly squished together under the push of her forearms. her nipples peaked like she'd been playing with them, and fuck.

gator's head spins, mind racing at a million miles a goddamn second as he thinks about nara running the pads of her fingers over her sensitive nipples, playing with herself for him. over him, even. it'd been a while, she'd not come over for a week on account of his dad scaring her off with his presence the last time, and gator would take any crumb he could get.

the palm of his hand comes down to rub at the semi he's fast sporting in his baggy camo pants, pressing just right on the shaft in a pathetic attempt to tame it. if anything, the touch of his hand makes it worse, hips rolling up into his palm like some sort of pathetic virgin, and he groans tightly at the feeling. head thumping back against the seat, neck bared under the moonlight.

he'd been warned before by the squad, told to stop taking girls into the cruiser, stop doing shit he shouldn't on duty. but he's weak, so fucking weak, and he wants to hear this girl gasp pretty and talk him through fucking his fist, just to take the edge off until he can snake his hands under her pretty pink dress again.

it's not against the rules, right? not if nobody's gonna find out.

he's calling her number before he can even think twice about it, his cock taking over from his brain and doing the walking.

his phone is wedged between his cheek and shoulder, smushed under the tight grip as he grapples quickly with his pants. strong thighs lifting from the warm leather of the cruisers' seat, helping ease the way to shove the offending fabric down his legs, below the knee.

it's maybe premature. she might not even answer. but he justifies himself with silent affirmation - that he's a young, red blooded american man. so he gets hard and desperate quick, who his age didn't?

his cock hangs heavy against his hairy thigh under it's own weight, flushed red at the tip and threatening to leak. gator can't even look as the phone continues to ring, can't bare to put a hand on himself until he hears nara's voice on the line.

"tillman." your dulcet tone filters through his speakers, and gator finds himself not completely losing his chub.

which. either means his brain is broken or he really is that desperate to get off.

"nara there?"

"she's in the shower, gator. i'll make sure not to tell her you called."

shower. fuck, she's in the shower. his cock throbs, jerking against his leg eagerly. images of soapy tits, rivulets of water clinging to plains of soft, smooth skin, have gator gripping the base of his cock tightly. the half-mast quickly, and pathetically, springing to full attention.

his frustration gets the better of him as he roughly fists the base of his dick, eyes rolling into the back of his head from fighting the urge to spit into his palm and rub one out, "jealousy's showing, hon. not her fault your phone isn't ringin' on a friday night."

your breathy, witchy cackle catches him off guard, sounding delightfully vulgar and, dare he say, sexy?

he needed to hang up the fucking phone. he was clearly having an aneurysm, because no way in hell were you his kind of sexy.

absolutely not.

yet-

"tillman, if all the men in this town are like you then i'm glad my phone is silent."

gator's previous barely-there thought goes out the window.

"wha's that supposed to mean? what am i like?" gator huffs, shoulders squaring a little. cock still comically squeezed tight in the fist of his hand.

you huff an unamused sigh, the eye roll almost audible over the staticky line, "you're a corrupt pig, for a start."

gator feels his lip turn up in a snarl, tries in vain to ignore the way his cock throbs at the nonchalant insult, "now wait just a minute-"

"am i wrong? i don't think i am." your tone changes, almost like you're amused by the shotgun reaction you received from that jibe, "not to mention you're easy. dumb as a bag of fucking rocks, too."

the prickles of heat that shoot up gator's spine at the jabs throw him off-kilter, his brain going offline completely.

dumb as a bag of fucking rocks ping-pongs in his head as he silently curls in on himself to spit directly over the head of his dick. his hooded eyes watching the way he works his hand over himself, getting him nice and wet.

"keep goin', since you think you know everythin'," gator's voice is breathy, completely giving him away even as he tries so hard to keep his tone neutral. he shudders, back arching off the leather seat as he finally, fucking finally, starts tugging himself off.

it's a new low, and he'll admit it once it's over and he's covered in his own cum.

"i know more than you, that's for fucking sure." you deadpan, and he pictures you picking lazily at your nails in boredom, legs crossed as you swing in the chair nara has at her desk, probably wearing those torn-up fishnets you always have on, with that short leather skirt your ass usually almost hangs out of and oh fuck-

gator presses his thumb into the glans at the head of his dick, skull thumping back against the headrest as he gives in to his thoughts of you, how you'd look bouncing on him and taking control, jesus fucking christ, he couldn't even respond to you, mouth running completely fucking dry.

"you dirty little perv, are you jacking off right now?" you gasp in mock offence, "you're disgusting, you know that? a real piece of work."

gator's body runs hot at your words, eyes squeezing shut as he works his palm over his leaking tip, using it to lube up his shaft and ease the way further, "disgusting, i'm disgusting."

he's agreeing before he can even stop it, letting his mouth run away from him as he gives into the pleasure of his own hand. he's soaked, fingers coated with a mix of his own fluids, hand stripping his cock painfully tight.

he can fucking hear how obscene it sounds in the cocoon of the cruiser, there's no way you can't hear it down the line, lewd and vile and oh god, this was really doing it for him.

"holy fuck." your words come out in a gasp, incredulous and still obnoxiously self-assured, "you like that, tillman? being told what you really are? a little creep who jacks off to his girlfriends sister?"

"not my girlfriend." he whines, pathetic and labored, "m'a fucking creep, your voice is sexy, ngh."

you laugh again, louder this time, "you're sick, y'know that? a sick little freak."

"hang up the phone then," his words have zero bite, breathy with how worked up he is, "hang up on me. leave me hangin'. it's- 's fine, we can, fuck, forget about it."

"where's the fun in that?" the nonchalance in your voice is infuriatingly sexy, the amused lilt driving gator crazy, "tell me freak, is it just my voice or are you thinkin' about me too?"

he is. he's thinking about you. nara is everything you aren't, proper and sweet, almost innocent. you're self-assured and confident, vulgar and unashamed. where you're black, she's white. where she's fire, you're ice. yet he's thinking about tearing your fishnets apart at the cunt, sinking into your tight heat instead of hers, and that's a fucking revelation.

you're a sin, everything his daddy hates. everything he himself hates, even. and it makes you all the more desirable, a fire lit in gator's gut as he sloppily tugs at his cock, thinking about how it'd feel to push into you bare.

how it would feel to wreck you and shut you the fuck up. make those words die in your throat as he railed you within an inch of your life.

"silence says it all, gator. that just makes this all the more sad." your voice comes across pouty, like you feel sorry for him, "how does it feel? dreaming about a pussy you'll never get to touch?"

"i'll get it, that's a promise," gator whines, hips punching up into his fist on a particularly nice upstroke, chasing for more, "i always get what i w-want."

"not this time," you coo, "you can picture and dream about it all you want, though. think about me sinking my fingers into my tight pussy, opening myself up for some other guy's big cock."

he- he cannot think about that. think about you stretching yourself out, all glistening wet and dripping down your palm and inner wrist, writhing and moaning, because fuck he's gonna cum and it's gonna be embarrassing.

"it'll be me. i'll fuckin' rearrange your guts 'n ruin you," the slick, constant pass of gator's hand over his cock begins to stutter, mind racing with thoughts of you, you, you.

"i'll tell you what, lets play pretend," the smile in your voice is apparent at this point, evil and cunning, "oh my god, gator! fuck, right there, right there, y'r so fucking big i can't take it! harder, harder!"

it's. it's meant to be a fucking joke but hearing your high pitched, wanton moaning does it for gator, has his gut running hot as he cants his hips up and cums in thick ropes all over his fist, painting his skin with his own spend.

your gasp sounds real this time, even in his ringing ears as you take in the guttural moans he emits when he wrings himself dry to the sound of your voice.

"christ, tillman," your voice is spacey, the dry click of your throat apparent, "jesus. hate to admit it but that was pretty fucking hot."

"yeah?" he sounds like his vocal cords have been shredded by a damn cheese grater.

"yeah, i- oh fuck," you're cut off abruptly and the line goes completely dead.

gator's brows furrow, etches of confusion on his face when the silence takes over and he's left in the aftermath of what just happened, a mess all over his hand and thighs.

he's in the middle of cleaning up with an embarrassing amount of burger king napkins when his phone flashes, your name pinging up on the screen next to the stupid snapchat ghost.

gator feels an immense sense of accomplishment when not even three days later he's got you on your belly in the back seats, ass and legs out the open door of the cruiser as he fucks you senseless, gets to coax those desperate moans out of you for real like he promised he would.

[persephore]

consummate — fire-lord zuko ⤥

synopsis it’s been years since life had been rebuilt after ozai’s reign of tyranny. the fire nation — the entire world — is walking the fragile line of peace. to the council, it’s the perfect time for the firelord to marry a commoner woman of the water tribe. to zuko, its an even better time to get the gaang back together.

pairing firelord zuko x reader - insert

cw 3.5k, arranged marriage, implied kataang, aang is written as a wise ray of sunshine, sokka is a sarcastic womanizer, toph beifong is herself, katara is slightly stubborn, canon universe, wedding night, falling in love, fluff and smut, subtle angst, porn with feelings and plot, cunnilingus, married sex, throne sex, penis in vagina sex, no use of y/n for afab!reader, accidental branding, briefly mentioned breeding kink, creampie, short and sweet

link available on ao3

a/n haven’t seen the full movie yet so this is based off the many clips i’ve seen. im ngl, i know the whole storyline from tiktok so at this point i basically have seen the whole movie. anyway, happy reading!

To Aang, Toph, Katara, and Sokka

Becoming the Fire-Lord has normalized stress and many restless nights. Despite it all, I cannot forget the joy we shared. Before we parted ways there was a promise that if we ever needed each other we would come calling. This is my call. I’m getting married tomorrow night. Two months ago, the council decided the responsibility of ruling would be made a bit lighter with a wife by my side to care for. I haven’t met her yet. Never spoken to her. I kept putting it off, thinking they would cancel the ordeal on their own judgment, but now there’s only one more sunrise before the big day. I wish for advice as I also wish to see you all again even more. I missed you.

- signed, Fire-Lord Zuko

Zuko’s fingers brushed the makeup barely concealing his scar.

“What if she thinks my face is hideous?”

“Oh, please,” Toph scoffed, seated on the floor of his private chamber, “As if any woman on earth has ever called you ugly before.”

“I never thought you’d still be capable of seeming so insecure,” Katara chuckled lightly, “Being nervous is a good sign at the start of a relationship.”

“They’re both right.” Aang offered a smile and two thumbs up of encouragement. One of his arms was loosely wrapped around Katara’s waist. “You’re overthinking this, Zuko. The woman’s most likely scared of being in an arranged marriage too. Worried it will forcefully tie her to some mean, arrogant tyrant.”

Sokka leaned against the doorframe. “In that case she would hate the old you. Unless she likes mean, arrogant tyrants. Then you’re screwed regardless.”

Three other individuals in the room glared at Sokka while Zuko swallowed hard and glanced at his reflection in the mirror one last time.

Royal robes had been neatly cleaned and pressed in preparation for the wedding. Recently, long dark hair had grown even longer. Excluding the scar his skin was unblemished. Fire-Lord Zuko looked far healthier now that stress wasn’t too much of a constant in his life anymore. The Fire Nation was at peace, other elemental civilizations equally so. This timing was perfect to prove he wouldn’t be as aggressive as his predecessor. To marry a bender provided by the water tribe and birth a heir.

All according to the council, of course.

Still, he buried his face in his hands.

“At the end of the night I’m expected to consummate the marriage…”

Sokka fanned his hand with mock nonchalance. “That should be the easiest part. I mean, we’re all adults. We already know what part goes in where —“

Both Aang and Katara coughed, faces flushed bright red.

“What if she doesn’t want to?” Zuko groaned. His forehead collided with wood. “What if the idea scares her off or makes her think I’m some kind of sick bastard? A royal marriage remains unconfirmed unless the wedding night is spent together.”

“Here’s some real advice, lie to the council. Pretend like something happened even if it didn’t. Old geezers who haven’t gotten their rocks off in years wouldn’t be able to decipher a lie like that.”

Toph’s words made Zuko inhale deeply, exhaling twice as hard in an effort to calm his nerves. The woman was right. Besides, there wouldn’t be any worry of witnesses accusing him of deceit.

“Or are you just nervous because you haven’t been with a woman in a while?”

Zuko’s teeth gritted at Sokka’s teasing. “It hasn’t been that long.”

Toph snorted a laugh. “Oh yeah? How long has it been?”

No answer was given, not when Zuko came to the realization that it had been a while. It wasn’t intentional, nor something he knowingly kept track of.

“Told ya.” Sokka gloated at the silence. “It’s expected for a Fire-Lord to be pent-up — you know, ruling his kingdom and all…”

Katara rolled her eyes. “As if you’re drowning in women.”

Sokka smirked. “Duh, I am. That’s my specialty.”

“Anyway,” Aang recentered the conversation, “Everything will be fine. When we first met, all of us had our own negative perceptions. Now we’re all here to support you because you proved us wrong. If you did it once it could definitely be done again.”

“Correctamundo,” Sokka firmly nodded, placing a hand on his hip. “Right now your biggest worry should be if your bride is actually super gross-looking.”

“That shouldn’t matter, Sokka.” Katara sighed. “I doubt it. Water tribe women are always beautiful.”

Aang hadn’t taken his gaze off Katara as he mumbled, sheepishly massaging his neck.

“Agreed.”

“Appearance hasn’t crossed my mind. Who am I to judge something like that?” Zuko stood from his seat at the vanity. Heated hands straightened his black and red garments before his eyes settled on each of his childhood friends. His tense expression softened. “I appreciate you all finding time to be here. Truly.”

Katara gave a gentle smile. “Whenever you need us we’ll find time for you. Always.”

Two servants entered the room with their heads bowed low, announcing synchronously once permission was granted.

“Fire-Lord Zuko, your bride has arrived from the Northern Water Tribe.”

Fireworks exploded under a vast starry sky. The festival of steam had commenced, joining water and fire.

The entire time, Zuko hadn’t realized he was staring.

Dancers, music, lights… all were a blur. None could captivate him as his wife had. Feeling him watch you, you glanced in his direction. The small motion made Zuko mend his posture and offer an awkward closed-lipped smile, but his gaze refused to depart from the soft looking skin of your lips, your eyes glowing above a trail of embers. A word hadn’t even uttered through your lips intended for him yet.

Man, how long has he been this pent-up without realizing?

Perhaps Sokka was right.

Zuko made a silent oath to never utter those words out loud.

The wedding ceremony had went smoothly.

There was no doubt it would since there was no need for the husband and bride to interact with each other beforehand. Besides making eye contact a few times, each remained within respective palanquins while a highly-ranked councilman announced the newfound duties of an emerging royal family.

Much later into the night both you and Zuko were still seated separately, only allowing him to admire you from afar. The robes on your body were elegant, silver and blue fabrics complimenting the power coursing through your veins. A corset squeezed ribs so much Zuko could see your small gasps for breath. Each time you shimmered in firelight when a dancer passed made the Fire-Lord even more mesmerized.

There was a new ring on your finger, a fire nation crown on your head…

A weight heavy on your skull.

All of this — the dress, the jewels, the endless fuss — it wasn’t intended for the pleasure of love. Today was dedicated to the survivors traumatized by a meaningless war, worried that a minor incident would tip the scale. To the mothers and fathers fearing their children will be kidnapped and forced to fight again, losing their lives for a selfish tyrant. That stripped this marriage of any emotional meaning and instead provided a logical one. And you — since childhood you had wanted to escape the Northern Water Tribe and its society favored toward men.

Now, what should have been an opportunity at freedom felt more like a cage.

Your fingers clenched the fabric of your dress. You leaned over to a fire nation servant, whispering words Zuko couldn’t hear.

Then, you climbed off the palanquin held on the shoulders of water tribe maidservants.

Zuko watched you saunter into the palace before quickly hustling to follow you, ignoring a councilman who had asked where he could be running off to.

Through long corridors, you stepped onto a balcony, leaned against a railing as you gazed up at the moon. A source begging to be used. It couldn’t be. Not when all that surround you was aggressively overpowering fire.

Zuko stepped onto the balcony behind you, quietly offering his first words in hours.

“May I ask what’s on your mind?”

A response came just as gentle.

“Needed some air. The steam was too much to handle. Too forceful.”

Zuko knew you meant that more in a figurative sense than literal.

“I assume the centuries of war imposed by the fire nation has made you reluctant of this marriage…”

“Reluctant isn’t quite the term I would use.” For a water tribe commoner, your tone was surprisingly warm and steady. “I prefer to drift with the flow of life. If it has brought me to be with you, I will accept it.”

Zuko leaned his forearms on the railing of the balcony; gazed down at the people still singing, dancing, drinking. A mix of water-benders and fire-benders lingered in the crowd, fewer earth-benders cheering along. All interacting with one another.

“My mother was forced to marry my father. She lived a facade of contentment, but cracks always showed the truth,” he buried reemerging thoughts of resentment to instead whisper, “I refuse to become like him.”

The Fire-Lord hesitantly pulled a small box into the night air. One that had been hidden within his robes the entire evening as he struggled to hide the slight tremble of his fingertips. Zuko watched you open it with awe, your eyes brimming with gratitude at the sight of a traditional betrothal choker inside. Instead of being water tribe colors, the collar was black while the pendant itself was blue with fiery red detailings.

“This is beautiful,“ you whispered with honesty, “Unique.”

“It was inspired by one I had seen before. May I put it on you?”

As soon as you nodded Zuko shifted behind you.

Gentle hands slowly tugged blue attire lower. A chilly breeze licked the base of your neck. You could feel him close. Even through clothes his body was warm, strong. His presence created a heat of its own. The adornment raised to wrap tight around your neck.

When Zuko spoke, his sultry breath caressed your ear like silk.

“I was scarred due to my father’s relentless greed for power. The fire nation has hurt me too. I’ve worked tirelessly to fix the consequences.”

“Then I suppose a mark like this isn’t new to you?” A silver sleeve was pulled back to display a burn on the otherwise smooth skin of your arm. “What happened to all the fire nation soldiers arrogant enough to burn children for fun? Do they still live their lives worry free? Is the Fire-Lord so forgiving?”

Zuko tenderly raised your arm to his lips where he placed a soft kiss on the scar.

“I assure you that they’ve been dealt with. A long time ago. Thoroughly.”

“Well the trauma still remains.” Your back turned to him. “I apologize for my insolence, my lord.”

Strong hands held your waist with a benign yet commanding strength, stopping you from drifting away. “There’s no need to call me that. You’re my wife. It sounds a little —“ he cleared his throat, faint redness creeping up his cheeks “— suggestive when my title comes from your lips.”

Your head tilted to the side. A teasing grin crawled onto your face. “Is that how you prefer it, my lord?”

“When a voice such as yours says it, yes.”

You stiffened upon the realization that his flirting had managed to draw a smile from you. After a moment of hesitation, you turned back around to face him. His eyes meet yours under the moonlight, a fountain of fire on the balcony making them glow golden.

“We can make this work,” you conceded with a sigh. “I just want freedom, is all. To feel like my own person, not some random water-bending commoner forced to marry the ruler of the fire nation.”

“Everything you want will be yours. I promise.”

There was a glossy look in his eyes, wet and wanting. A hunger that had been restrained. He inched closer, providing all the time you would need to pull away.

But, you didn’t.

As soon as his lips met yours, his body relaxed for the first time of the night, stress melting beneath your hands braced his chest. All the while, his touch never stopped wandering. Your neck. Your arms. Dragging along your spine until your back subconsciously arched.

A breathless laugh escaped you. “Why are you so eager? We have all night.”

“You’re comfortable spending the night with me? You’re not scared or disgusted or…”

He trailed off at the feeling of your fingertips grazing slowly down his body, ceasing dangerously low on the fabric concealing his v-line.

“We still have a marriage to consummate.”

“You knew about that…?”

“I was discomforted at the thought of sleeping with a man the same night I’d meet him. But…” your words became even quieter, but they were certain, “I think… now that I’m aware of the honor you prioritize… I’m okay with this. More than okay.”

Zuko no longer held onto restraint as he fumbled to steer you toward his private chamber. When your bodies stumbled into the corridor, Toph, Sokka, Aang, and Katara were straining to hear if things were going smoothly with the newlyweds who had disappeared from their celebration. You halted at the sight of a peculiar man — Sokka — straightening when he realized he’d been caught with his ear against the door.

A long heated kiss was planted to your cheek while you spoke with a smile. “I was informed by some servants earlier that my husband’s friends will all spend the next three days here. That he treasured you all above anything else. I hope we’ll become equally as close during that time.”

“Are you trying to suck her face off? That’s not how you’re supposed to kiss —“

Katara slammed a hand over her brother’s mouth to muffle the heckling. “I’m sure we will. Enjoy your night. Looks like he already is.”

Zuko paused long enough to toss your weight onto his shoulder like a sack of rice. You let out a small noise of surprise while he nodded firmly to his group of friends.

“If you need anything do not hesitate to call for a servant. We will see all of you at breakfast.”

Without waiting for a response, Zuko carried you towards the entryway of the throne room, hurriedly stating that it was closest. Aang laughed when the threshold shut with a loud slam.

“Looks like he was worried for nothing.”

“Who’s next to get married in the group? Never would’ve expected him to be first.” Toph sighed, “I haven’t met anyone strong enough to outmatch me yet.”

Sokka shrugged. “Meh, I’m having to much fun playing around.”

Both Toph and Sokka swiveled to face Aang and Katara who both nervously twitched. Heavy stares were desperately avoided.

In the grand room, Zuko murmured against your mouth. His muscled chest cornered yours against his throne. You had already pulled his clothing from him down to just his underwear, delighting in the way firelight from candles outlined his blatant strength. “Tomorrow, I will dedicate my time to learning more of you. Ways a devoted husband should.” His hands caressed along your sides, fiddled with buttons.

There was a teasing look on your face when you pulled the pin that declared him Fire-Lord off his head, long hair releasing from its hold.

You grabbed him close. Soft lips grazed his earlobe.

“I’m aware of another way a husband and a wife should get to know each other.”

Zuko seated you on his throne then lowered to his knees, inching the fabric of your dress from your thighs as amber-colored eyes gazed up into yours.

“Of course, my love.”

Wet. It was all so wet.

Zuko’s saliva drooled over your entrance, tongue sliding over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

His mouth latched onto your pussy hot and drenched. Amber eyes looked lost, unfocused, as if the intoxicating passion drawing whines from you was drowning him along with. The sight of the Fire-Lord quivering, kneeled in front of his throne while he serviced you between your thighs… The man was famished. His painfully hard cock stood upright through a tight confinement of fabric.

Closed eyes, furrowed brows, the sweet juices leaking from your cunt glossed his lips.

Messy, so unbelievably maddening.

You whimpered as legs clenched against his head.

“My lord…”

Frantically, your clothes were torn away with a loud rip. Broad fingers slid your panties to the side as boxers were haphazardly shoved down his thighs.

“Give your first order as queen, my love.” His hands softly caressed the flesh of your hips while he kissed your collarbone. “Declare what you desire of me.”

“I … I order you to make love to me.”

"From this moment forward, whatever you wish is my command.”

The delicate moan that echoed the throne room nearly made him cum on the spot when the head breached. Barely. Deliciously tight was the hole that anchored him within.

"I’m yours, my lady, all of me," In an attempt to soothe you, warming fingers massaged your waist in circles. There was a possessed look in his eyes when you watched the pleasure shown on his face. Parted lips, groans scraping from the depths of his throat. A thumb circled your quivering clit. "That’s it…”

Surprised, a broken-sounding moan left your lips when he began to thrust hard without him being fully inside yet.

Zuko was never a patient man.

Immensely infatuated with you? Yes.

Careful to remain merciful when necessary? Yes.

But patient wasn't a descriptor even his childhood friends would use for him.

Raw, like an untamed animal, each thrust shoved him deeper until your pussy was stretched to the fullest, his balls slapping your ass.

Zuko’s jerky movements melted your thoughts when his mouth attached to your neck and began to suck and bite, strong hands holding your knees over his shoulders. He wasn’t too vocal — small groans and whines doing more than enough to turn you on even more — but you were. How could you stay quiet when his cock bulled through your walls with the heat of a madman, the thumb once at your thigh returning to your clit as needy moans shifted an octave higher?

Uncontrolled, filthy taunts were whispered against your ear.

“Look at you taking me so well…”

“I can still taste your pussy on my tongue…”

“You’re squeezing me, my love, my wife… so wet…”

And when you clamped on him with a sweet cry, he groaned, forcing his length with a squelch.

"So good..." his voice fractured when your pussy squeezed tighter. "Ready to let go for me? I can feel it."

It was true. You were close, oh so close. Any sense of control slipped through your grasp. Your legs jolted with every driving thrust, wetness leaking onto the seat beneath you.

“I — I can’t…”

"Yes you can. Bless me with the expression my queen makes when she loses control. I — I’m here. I’m right here with you."

Zuko talked through your moment of pure bliss, guiding with soft whispers of worship for your body, your beauty. He begged you to cum as if it would be the last time he ever got the chance to feel you. His heat enticed. His weight cemented you to his throne. In a matter of seconds the coil snapped free. A wave of pleasure washed over you — brutal, making your head tilt back.

Your hands moved in a hurry to stifle your loud moans. They were immediately yanked away, pinned to his heaving chest.

“Don’t hide. Everyone in the palace will know you’re mine.”

His sudden possessiveness was one that couldn’t be controlled.

It strengthened at the feeling of his cock beginning to throb. The urge to stuff you filled his mind till he was nearly delirious.

“Oh god …”

One final slam lodged him deep with a low groan. Burning hands fisted the armrests of his throne, then grasped you tight when his dick pulsed, trembles shivering through his thighs.

A kiss poured longing into you until you were aching, yearning. His cock swelled and erupted, filling your already sloppy hole with a mess of cum. The entire time, Zuko whined and shook, feeling your pussy convulse to beckon more and more of his load. Your desperate mewls of his name only made him feel even dizzier, his eyes shutting tight. Curses rolled from him like a mantra. A small whisper mentioned how much he craved to see your stomach full with his child.

Scratches trailed down his chest red-stained like claw marks.

By time Zuko regained his senses the realization of how heated his body had become dawned.

Smoke wafted from the hand placed on your hip. The scorch caused you to flinch at the burn accidentally left behind as the Fire-Lord hurriedly flung himself to the ground. Zuko tensed. The scar was shaped like a disfigured handprint. If anyone saw it the first rightful assumption would be he branded you intentionally or assaulted you out of anger.

Fingertips mindlessly grazed his own scar. Breaths came faster out of panic.

“Sorry, I — sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I usually have better control —“

“I like it,” you murmured tiredly, caressing the mark, “If the council ever questions our marriage, I will show them this with pride.”

The genuine contentment on your face was everything needed to quell his racing heart.

[hon3y0logy]

Loose Lips || Zuko x Wife!Reader

Warning: vulgar language, smut (literally right at the beginning 😀), gossiping maids, its 2 am pls excuse any grammar mistakes...

Synopsis: You and Zuko are in your early years of marriage. You’re a young couple with copious amounts of energy, when you two are alone intimacy is bound to happen. But what happens when you get a whisper of complaints from the palace workers. (2.3 k wc)

Your toes curled tightly, digging into the bed as your back arched off the silk sheets. Your eyes rolled back, an overwhelming wave of pleasure shooting through your body.

Your husband’s head was buried deep between your thighs, your legs thrown over his shoulders. His hands gripped your hips firmly as his tongue worked against you. Your breathing was labored, this was your fourth orgasm of the night, and he hadn’t given you a single break.

He pulled back with a quiet gasp for air, his fingers now taking place of his tongue, steady and relentless.

"Come on baby, I know you're close gimme one more and i’ll let you go, promise." You whimpered gripping the sheets below you as your body tensed from the pleasure.

He pressed a kiss to your thigh before diving back between your thighs mouth focusing on your swollen sensitive bud with renewed hunger. A sharp gasp tore from your lips at the sudden rush of pleasure.

Your lower stomach tightened, your hands moving from the sheets to his dark hair, gripping tightly.

“Zu–Zuko, please… I’m close!”

He kept the same pace. His amber eyes flicked up to watch you, hungry and intent, while one hand held your hips in place the other busy with two fingers shoved inside you pressed against your sensitive spot.

Your breathing quickened, your moans rising higher, more desperate.Your eyes squeezed shut so tightly you saw stars.

“Please— f-fuck, I’m close, I—” Your words broke into a mix of a groan and a cry as your body finally gave in, the climax hitting you all at once as warm liquid squirted out pooling below you. Zuko didn’t stop, he helped you through it, letting you ride out every last wave.

As it passed, your grip on him loosened. Your chest rose and fell as you struggled to steady your breathing.

When you finally looked down, his cheeks were flushed deep red. His bun had come loose, strands falling around his face. His lips were swollen and glistening as his chin dripped your juices. His expression low and satisfied. He looked unfairly hot like that.

His breathing was heavy as a tired smirk tugged at his lips.

“You did well, baby.”He peppered a few soft kisses along your inner thighs before pushing himself up and disappearing into the private bathing room.

You closed your eyes, feeling the adrenaline fade as exhaustion crept in. Sleep was just beginning to pull you under when a warm sensation between your legs made you jolt slightly.

“Shh… it’s okay. I’m just cleaning you up.”

You were too weak to respond, your body completely spent.

At some point during the night, Zuko moved you, stripped the bed of the ruined sheets, and settled back beside you, pulling a thick quilt over both of you.

The last thing you felt was the warmth of his body pressed against yours, soft kisses trailing along your shoulder and temple as sleep finally took you.

•••

The next morning, you woke up still wrapped in his arms, your head resting on his chest as you listened to his steady heartbeat. You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

Ever so gently, you shifted, propping your chin against him so you could watch him sleep. He looked so sweet and peaceful like this it was almost impossible to see him as the man who had ruined you the night before.

You giggled to yourself as you began pressing more kisses against his warm skin. That seemed to stir him. He took a deep breath, his eyes fluttering open, and the moment they found you, he smiled.

“You’re awake earlier than normal. I figured you’d be out for the rest of the day,” he teased.

You rolled your eyes. “Ha, you think you’re that good?” you shot back, already knowing you’d just gotten yourself into trouble.

A look of mock offense crossed his face before he suddenly flipped you onto your back. His bare chest pressed against yours, strong arms caging you against the bed.

“You’re telling me you can go again? Already?”

You smiled, craning your neck up just enough to brush a teasing kiss against his lips.

You felt him twitch against your bare thigh, and you smirked into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him impossibly closer.

His hands slid down your body, gripping your thighs and guiding them around his waist as he pressed himself against your bare core with intention. You could feel him getting harder as a soft gasp left your lips.

You were deep in your morning make out session when a knock sounded at the door.

“Fire Lord Zuko, you have a meeting with the general and urgent letters from the other nations. You are needed in the council room immediately.” That voice belong to his annoying Grand Steward who somehow knew how to ruin the mood every time, always managing to find you two when you run off.

You were reluctantly pulled back to reality. Zuko broke the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. You let out a small giggle, your hand settling against his chest.

“Come on, maybe we can have breakfast together before you have to attend endless meetings today.”

You gave him one last kiss before he rolled off of you.

Before either of you could react, the doors slid open, startling you both. You scrambled to grab the blanket, covering your naked body only to realize it was your Head Handmaid, Akani. She was an older woman who was like a second mother figure to you, she always wore a scowl despite having a heart of gold. Once your mother’s head handmaiden, she had come with you when you became the Fire Lady.

Behind her stood your three ladies-in-waiting, along with three of Zuko’s personal attendants, who remained turned away by the door.

Akani approached the bed, holding out a robe. She handed it to Zuko, her expression unreadable. You knew she had been doing this for years, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

Zuko awkwardly cleared his throat. Akani rolled her eyes, gesturing for the girls to turn around. They did so, giggling quietly.

He quickly stood, wrapping the robe around himself, moving so fast it was almost comical.

As he left, the women continued to giggle amongst themselves. You lay there, utterly embarrassed as Akani fixed you with a look.

“Akani—”

“A bath, shall we?”

You sighed, nodding.

•••

Later that evening, you were headed to your own separate meeting. The New Year’s festival was around the corner, and you were in charge of planning and hosting. You didn’t feel like putting on your formal wear, so you asked to be dressed in a robe with muted reds adorned with gold stitching, cinched at the waist with a matching belt and few pieces of jewelry.

As you walked down the hall, you tried to keep a straight face, but your calves and thighs burned with each step you took. You made a mental note to get back at Zuko later that night.

As you approached the door, your attention was caught by the fairly loud whispers of the servants inside. You held up your hand, stopping the guard from announcing your presence.

A young woman’s voice spoke, “They were so loud last night the guards heard them all the way down the hall.” A few giggles followed.

“I heard them a few days ago in the throne room Lord Zuko was incredibly loud. He was basically screaming her name.”

“I’m surprised she’s not pregnant yet. They do it any chance they get I don’t know how she’s not broken in two.”

“The laundry maids say they have to change their bedding so often, it’s ridiculous. Sezei says her forearms have grown three times in size because of how much washing they have to do.” Your entire body began to burn with embarrassment.

“No way!” another girl giggled. “One guard claims he caught them naked in the river near the waterfall, late at night.” Gasps erupted throughout the room.

“They say the flames throughout the castle will flicker uncontrollably when Lord Zuko—”

Akani barged past you angrily, sliding the doors open. “Have you all lost your senses, speaking of the Lord and Lady in such a manner?!”

You swallowed thickly, gripping your long sleeves in your fists. Your body was frozen in discomfort. The girls squealed like children caught by their parents, dropping to the floor, bowing and apologizing profusely. You dismissed them with a silent wave and they scurried away.

The meeting was a blur you couldn’t focus, not even a little. Their words clung to you, replaying over and over in your mind. All you could think about was Zuko and you.

You were from a noble family. You knew servants gossiped it was inevitable, but never like this. Never about you, and never in such detail.

Yet somehow, that made the burn of embarrassment settle into something deeper… something harder to ignore.

•••

As the sun set, you went outside to clear your mind but that didn’t help. With each servant or guard you passed, you found yourself wondering who had witnessed you and Zuko’s more…intimate moments.

You couldn’t even be mad. The two of you had been reckless when it came to your desires.

As the warm wind brushed against your cheeks, familiar hands gently wrapped around your waist. Your body subconsciously relaxed into him.

“Hey, beautiful.” Zuko trailed kisses up your neck. You smiled, tilting your head to give him more access until you noticed the guard across the courtyard. You took a sharp breath and gently pushed him away.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” you whispered, looking down in shame.

Zuko tilted his head, confused. “What’s the matter?” You sighed, taking his hand and leading him back inside to your bedroom.

After explaining the fiasco from earlier in the day, Zuko sat in front of you in silence. His cheeks held a faint pink tint as he sank into thought.

“I never thought about anyone hearing us. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you…”

“No, I— ugh. In the moment, I was ashamed and embarrassed I could barely move. Akani had to come to my defense, but… I don’t know.” You dragged your hands down your face, trying to find the right words.

Zuko chuckled softly, reaching out to take your wrist. You looked at him with a pout.

“Listen, if you’re bothered by what they think, I can have them dismissed while we participate in our…activities.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No need. It’s just— it was just jarring to hear it firsthand.”

He gave you a gentle smile, cupping your cheek in one hand. You happily leaned into his warmth.

“You know… if they want to listen, let’s give them a show.” He smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

You sat there, giving it some thought. You had always been known as a poised, intelligent lady from a noble family— well respected, well mannered. What if word got back to your parents about how undignified you’d been behaving? You would be mortified the next time you visited.

Sex was meant to be shared between partners— husband and wife, not….oh fuck it. You were already married, so what the hell?

A small smile crept onto your lips as you nodded in agreement. Fine, if they wanted to eavesdrop then let them hear EVERYTHING.

•••

From late that night into the early morning, you spent hours tangled together, making love. Your sweaty bodies intertwined kissing, biting, pulling, teasing— your lewd sounds echoing faintly through the palace. From the bed to the floor, the balcony to the wall, neither of you stopped until exhaustion finally claimed you both, and you fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

The next morning, you woke with a soft smile, draped across your husband’s chest, the two of you tangled in sheets on the floor.

“Morning, sleepy head,” he murmured, a smile tugging at his lips though his eyes remained closed.

“I’m hungry… wanna eat?” He nodded lazily.

Your morning had been perfect so far. You dressed yourself in quiet before joining him for breakfast.

It was simple but divine light fish with rice, fresh fruit, and hot tea. The two of you spoke easily, drifting from meetings, to the New Year’s Festival, to whatever leisure the day might allow. You were happy (sore) and completely worry free.

Your handmaiden, Akani, entered the dining area, your ladies just behind her.

“Good morning, my lady. My lord,” she greeted, bowing gracefully.

You smiled. “Morning, Akani. Morning, girls.”

There was a small silence, her gaze lingered a moment too long before she straightened. A faint, almost knowing smile tugging at her lips.

“I trust you both slept well?”

You opened your mouth to answer, then paused. Something in her tone made it clear she knew. She always knew.

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “…we did.”

A quiet shuffle came from behind her one of your ladies suddenly very interested in the floor. Akani continued smoothly, “I’ve taken the liberty of having your chambers thoroughly refreshed this morning.”

Your brow lifted. “Refreshed?”

“Yes, my lady.” A beat. “Very thoroughly.”

Heat rushed to your face, your hand instinctively lifting toward your neck only to freeze when you felt the faint tenderness there. Beside you, Zuko picked up his cup suddenly taking interest in his tea swirling around. You turned your head just enough to catch the faintest hint of red creeping up his ears.

They heard. Good.

Akani’s eyes flicked between you both, entirely too composed. “May I speak freely?” You nodded in approval.

“I do hope your shared enthusiasm did not leave you both too fatigued for the day ahead.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting a smile. Zuko however, straightened slightly, setting his cup down with forced calm.

“Thank you for your concern. We are perfectly capable of attending our duties.”

There was a brief pause then, almost imperceptibly, his chin lifted just a fraction. You bit the inside of your cheek, barely containing your amusement.

Akani inclined her head. “Of course, my lady.” She reached forward to adjust your hairpiece, that same knowing smile lingering, before bowing and taking her leave. You leaned back slightly in your seat, finally letting your satisfied smile slip free as you reached for your tea.

©hon3y0logy 2026 — any reposts or translations of my works are strictly prohibited unless granted permission. Do not feed my work into any AI programs.

masterlist

[nightwinfg]

-–—•

Zuko had tried sleeping. He really had. He had laid in bed for nearly an hour staring at the ceiling, turning over every few minutes, only to end up even more awake than before.

Tomorrow was his wedding day. Tomorrow, you would become his wife. Tomorrow. The thought alone made him grin helplessly into the darkness. Eventually, he gave up.

The palace corridors were quiet as he slipped through them, careful not to attract attention. He wasn't planning on speaking to you. He wasn't even planning on entering your chambers. He just wanted a glimpse. Just one.

Just one before you become husband and wife

When he reached the garden beneath your balcony, he stopped. A warm light glowed from your window above - and there you were. You stood near the open balcony doors, dressed in a simple robe, your hair loose around your shoulders as attendants fluttered around you making final preparations for tomorrow.

You looked tired. Happy, too. The sight made something warm settle in his chest. For a moment, Zuko simply watched from afar. Tomorrow, the entire world would see you dressed in wedding silks and jewels. Tomorrow, everyone would witness the ceremony; but tonight felt special somehow.

Private. Real. The future he'd fought so hard for was right there in front of him. As if sensing something, you glanced toward the gardens. Your eyes landed directly on him. Zuko immediately froze. Then, to his horror, you smiled. A small, knowing smile. You'd caught him. Even from the distance, you lifted your hand in a tiny wave.

His face instantly turned red. But he waved back anyway - and as he stood there beneath the moonlight, watching your smile grow brighter, Zuko decided that if this was what being caught felt like, he wouldn't mind getting caught by you for the rest of his life.

-–—•

A short one for now hehe, anyone else watching the World Cup? Waking up super early to watch Australia VS USA. Hoping Australia’ll win!!

[zaerilyn]

SUBLIMATION, guide on how to piss off a fire lord in 10 sec ♡

18+ MDNI, adult!zuko, established relationship, possessive & fiercely jealous!zuko, petty!zuko, touch-starved, spanking / light discipline, overstimulation, mirror sex, size kink, heavy fingering / clit stimulation, creampie, dom!zuko.

❝ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘥? 𝘰𝘩, 𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘺𝘱𝘦.ᐟ ❞ 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘣𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.

The royal dining room smelled like braised komodo turkey, warm spices, and impending chaos. That last ingredient was entirely Sokka’s fault.

He had arrived two days ago under the very reasonable pretense of a “diplomatic visit” which everyone in the palace understood to mean he had eaten all the sea prunes in the South Pole and needed a change of scenery. He had immediately made himself at home in the most aggressively Sokka way possible—reorganizing the palace kitchen’s meat storage, loudly critiquing the royal chefs’ spice choices, and staging what he called a “cultural exchange” that mostly involved teaching three Imperial Guards how to play Pai Sho wrong.

Zuko was handling it with the strained, tight-jawed dignity of a man who genuinely loved his brother-in-arms and also, genuinely, desperately wished he would go home.

You, on the other hand, were having the time of your life.

“The problem,” Sokka announced, gesturing with his chopsticks at nobody in particular, “is that Fire Nation desserts don’t hit right. Too much spice. Not enough—I don’t know—comfort.”

“They’re not supposed to be comfortable,” Zuko said flatly, not looking up from his bowl. “They’re supposed to be refined.”

“Refined.” Sokka repeated it like a curse word. He looked at you across the wide lacquered table. “Y/N, back me up. You’ve eaten in the North. You know what a good dessert tastes like.”

“I’m staying out of this,” you said serenely, pouring yourself a cup of jasmine tea.

“Smart woman.” Zuko reached for his own tea.

“Traitor,” Sokka said to you, but his tone was fond. He jabbed his chopsticks toward the small porcelain dish near the center of the table. It was a delicate Fire Nation layered cake, dark red bean paste between thin sheets of honey sponge, dusted with powdered cinnamon. “I’ll admit, though. That thing looks dangerous. In a good way.”

“It’s yuèbing-style,” you said, leaning forward slightly to inspect it. “Fire Nation adaptation. They bake it with dragon fruit reduction instead of lotus paste.”

Sokka’s eyes lit up with the specific enthusiasm he reserved for food and battle strategy. “Okay. Okay, that sounds incredible, actually—”

“It is,” you confirmed. You picked up a small serving spoon, cut a neat portion, and held it out. Not toward Sokka, but toward the man sitting directly to your left.

Zuko stiffened.

It was a nearly imperceptible thing. A millimeter of tension across his broad shoulders, a slight sharpening of his gaze as it dropped to the spoon now hovering in the space between you. The cake sat there, perfectly portioned, an earnest little offering from his fiancée.

He looked at it. He looked at Sokka, who was watching the exchange with the focused, calculating attention of a man who had once tracked a sea serpent across open water for three days on a bet.

Zuko looked back at the spoon.

“I have my own utensils,” he said.

You blinked. “I know. I’m offering you mine.”

“I can feed myself.”

“Zuko—”

“I’m twenty-eight years old.”

The silence that followed was exquisite. You held his gaze for one long beat. He held it back, expression perfectly composed, jaw set at the precise angle you had privately catalogued as his I am the Fire Lord and I am not flustered, what are you talking about, I am completely fine angle.

You lowered the spoon.

Across the table, Sokka made a sound that wasn’t quite a cough and wasn’t quite a laugh, but existed somewhere in the loaded territory between them. You caught his eye.

Something passed between you. It was wordless, instantaneous, and absolutely damning. It was the specific telepathy that develops between two people who both find the same man endearing in his mortifying stubbornness.

You looked back down at the spoon in your hand. Then, with the serene composure of someone who had absolutely no ulterior motive whatsoever, you turned slightly in your seat and extended the spoon across the table toward Sokka instead.

“Sokka,” you said pleasantly. “Do you want to try it?”

Sokka’s expression went from conspiratorial delight to the studied, innocent blankness of a seasoned chaos agent. He straightened in his seat. He placed a solemn hand over his heart.

“I,” he said gravely, “would be honored.”

He leaned forward. He accepted the spoon. He closed his eyes as he tasted it with the theatrical reverence of a man experiencing a religious event, and then he let out a low, appreciative groan that was at least forty percent louder than necessary.

“Oh,” Sokka breathed. “Oh, that’s—Y/N. Y/N, this is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“Isn’t it?” you agreed warmly.

“I might have to move into the Fire Nation palace permanently.”

“We have a lovely east wing.”

“Perfect. I’ll take it.”

The temperature in the dining room had been climbing for approximately twelve seconds. You felt it before you looked. It was the specific, simmering heat that radiated off Zuko when his composure was being tested. The barely-leashed inner fire usually only made itself known when he was in the middle of a council session gone wrong, or when his fiancée had just deliberately fed another man dessert right in front of him.

Zuko was staring at Sokka with an expression so flat and so incinerating it could have stripped paint from the walls.

Sokka, to his eternal credit, met that stare with the breezy, untroubled grin of a man who had survived a war and therefore had genuinely recalibrated his fear threshold. He set the spoon down on the table between you with a small, precise click.

“I mean,” Sokka said, in the tone of someone making a completely reasonable observation, “you did turn it down.”

You pressed your lips together very hard.

“You specifically said,” you added, with perfect innocence, “that you could feed yourself.”

Zuko turned to look at you. The flat expression had not moved. If anything, it had intensified. His golden eyes tracked from your face to the spoon to Sokka’s deeply satisfied expression and back to your face again, and you watched the precise moment he decided he was not going to dignify this with a response.

He reached across the table. He picked up the spoon. He cut himself a portion of the cake with the silent, deliberate calm of a man who was certainly not bothered. He ate it. He set the spoon down.

“It’s fine,” he said.

“Just fine?” Sokka asked.

“It’s cake, Sokka.”

“Y/N said it was incredible—”

“The conversation,” Zuko said, with a finality that had once ended full council meetings, “is over.”

You and Sokka thought it was funny.

Well. Your little prank is not so funny now.

Because right now, you are in the Fire Lord’s private chambers, stripped bare and face-down across his lap with the heavy silk sheets bunched uselessly beneath your palms, rapidly revising your opinion of the entire spoon incident.

He had been very calm about it. That was the most unnerving part. No raised voice, no dramatic declaration. Just the quiet deliberate efficiency of a man with a point to make and absolutely no intention of rushing. He walked you through the mahogany doors, turned the lock, sat down on the edge of the mattress, and looked at you. That was all it took. One look, and here you were: draped across his lap as his large calloused hand rested light and warm at the small of your back, the blistering heat of his thighs radiating straight through your bare skin, the horrible charged anticipation of waiting.

“You thought that was funny,” he said. Not a question. His voice was low, that gravelly unhurried register that did something catastrophic to your better judgment.

“A little,” you admitted, into the sheets.

His hand lifted. It came down with a sharp deliberate crack across the curve of your backside, and the sound that tore out of you was not dignified in any conceivable way.

“Zuko—”

“A little.” He repeated it perfectly even. His palm smoothed immediately over the sting, the scorching heat of his hand pressing into the bloom of warmth he had left behind. Your whole body clenched involuntarily at the contrast, the sharp bite of it dissolving almost instantly into a spreading maddening heat that pooled low and heavy in your core. “We’ll revisit that.”

He did it again. And again. Slow and measured, with that ruthless patience he applied to absolutely everything—council sessions, fire katas, and the systematic dismantling of your composure. Each strike was followed by the same soothing pass of his palm, his thumb tracing the flushed curve of your skin almost tenderly, and the combination of it was genuinely unhinged. Your fingers twisted into the silk. Your hips rolled without your permission. You heard the low dark exhale that came from him in response.

That was the thing about him. Zuko’s jealousy was a quiet, suffocating weight. He operated with the exact same obsessive, single-minded intensity that had once driven him across the globe for three years. Now, all of that relentless focus was trapped inside this room, directed entirely at stripping away your composure until you remembered exactly who claimed you.

You supposed that’s just how Fire Lord Zuko is. The jealous type.

By the time he finally stilled his hand, your skin was flushed a vivid burning pink, radiating its own warmth, every trace of your natural waterbender’s cold chased clean out of you. Your breathing was a wreck. The sheets beneath your palms were damp from the faint frost that had spiked off your overwhelmed skin and melted instantly against the furnace heat of his thighs.

“There,” Zuko murmured, his hand resting warm and still against your lower back. His voice had dropped into something quieter. Not soft exactly, but settled. Certain. “There you are.”

What came after was not gentle, and it was not quick.

He put you on all fours. His hands were sure and unhurried as he arranged you exactly where he wanted you, and the first stroke of his cock splitting you open dragged a completely ruined sound out of your throat that you felt no shame about whatsoever. He was thick and devastating at this angle, every thrust bottoming out so deep you felt it behind your navel, his hips snapping into the still-flushed spanked curve of your ass with a sharp filthy sound that filled the entire chamber. His long dark hair had come loose from its tie and fell around his face as he leaned over you, the ends brushing your spine, and even half-wrecked as you were the sight of him in your peripheral vision made it worse—that sharp jaw locked tight, those golden eyes dark with focus, the broad scarred expanse of his chest sheened faintly with exertion, lean muscle shifting with every drive of his hips.

He fucked you thoroughly. Properly. Deep hard strokes at a pace that left you completely incoherent, your arms trembling, your face pressing into the pillow as your own voice became entirely unrecognizable to you. Tears tracked silently down your cheeks, the bright overwhelmed kind that had nothing to do with pain and everything to do with the total dissolution of every last piece of your composure. You came with a broken sob muffled into the silk, clenching hard around him, and he followed close after with a low wrecked groan pressed between your shoulder blades, his hands gripping your hips so tight you’d feel it tomorrow.

For a moment, you both just breathed.

Then he drew you up.

He positioned you with those large certain hands, your back against his chest, his legs bracketing yours, the scorching wall of him solid at your spine. You were facing the mirror at the foot of the bed. You understood immediately, completely, why it was where it was.

You looked absolutely catastrophic. Your hair was a total wreck, dark strands plastered to your flushed tear-damp cheeks. Your lips were swollen. Your eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide, the look of someone who had been thoroughly taken apart and hadn’t been put back together yet. Your cool skin was flushed with heat and steaming faintly where it pressed against the blistering heat of his chest, the fire-and-ice contrast rendered almost obscene in the amber glow of the hearth.

And then there was Zuko behind you, which was a genuinely unfair thing to have to look at in this particular state. His dark hair was fully loose now, falling in thick dishevelled waves past his jaw and brushing his scarred collarbone. His chest was bare, broad and heavily muscled with the lean hard lines of a man who had trained every day of his life, old battle scars mapping his torso in silver and pale gold. His jaw was tight, a muscle feathering in his scarred cheek. His golden eyes burned steady in the low firelight, fixed entirely on you. He looked like something forged from fire and focused want. You looked like you’d been hit by a wave and hadn’t surfaced yet.

The contrast was genuinely criminal.

His chin hooked over your shoulder. His golden eyes found yours in the glass and held.

“Don’t look away, princess,” he said quietly.

His hand slid down your stomach.

You were already so sensitized that when his fingers found your clit, your whole body jolted on pure reflex. His other arm banded across your ribs immediately, dragging you back flush against him, keeping you exactly and inescapably in place.

“Zuko—” His name fractured in your throat. “I can’t, I’m already—”

“I know,” he said. He didn’t stop.

His fingers worked your clit in tight relentless circles, the direct pressure against something so oversensitized from everything before that every stroke felt like too much and not enough at the same time. His other hand slid up to cup your left breast, squeezing the soft weight of it before his fingers found your nipple and pinched, sharp enough to make you gasp and clench and dig your nails into his forearm hard enough to leave marks.

“Look at the mirror,” he said against your ear.

You looked. You wished briefly that you hadn’t. Your face was a complete disaster, mouth open, eyes wet, cheeks scarlet, expression stripped down to pure sensation with nothing held back at all. The image of you coming apart while he remained so devastatingly composed behind you, his dark eyes tracking your every reaction with that consuming focused attention, was enough to make your thighs shake all over again.

His fingers tightened on your nipple, a rolling pinch that sent a sharp spike straight down to your already screaming clit. Then the hand at your core shifted, two fingers curling inside you while his thumb flicked directly over your swollen bud, and you actually sobbed. Loud and undignified and completely beyond caring.

“Still think it was funny?” he murmured against your ear, low and dark and almost conversational. His fingers never lost their rhythm for a single second.

You opened your mouth. You were going to say a little. You had fully intended to say a little, purely on principle, right up until his thumb pressed down firm and his fingers curled deeper and his other hand delivered one sharp stinging flick directly to your clit. Your entire spine arced off his chest.

What came out instead was his name. Just his name, over and over, increasingly incoherent.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, low and rough against your temple.

The orgasm hit so hard your vision went white at the edges, your whole body shaking, thighs clamping shut around his hand. His arm was the only thing keeping you from sliding completely off the mattress. He worked you through every convulsing shuddering second of it without mercy, fingers pumping steadily through the clench of your walls, thumb drawing slow circles over your hypersensitive clit until the sounds you were making were mostly just breath and the occasional broken fragment of please.

He finally, mercifully, stilled.

The room was very quiet. The hearth crackled. Your chest heaved. His chin was still hooked over your shoulder and in the mirror his expression had shifted into something quieter. Still dark, still certain, but underneath it the faintest trace of the thing he could never quite say out loud in dining rooms and corridors. The thing that only ever came out like this.

A thin curl of steam rose where your sweat-damp skin pressed against the furnace of his chest. The hearth fire guttered once, sympathetically.

He lowered you both down onto the mattress slowly, tucking you against his chest the same way he always did, with that quiet absolute possessiveness, like the decision had been made a long time ago and he had no interest in revisiting it. His hand settled heavy and warm at the curve of your waist. His thumb began its slow idle circle.

You lay there completely and entirely destroyed, listening to his heartbeat gradually decelerate against your cheek. The burn of him had faded from overwhelming to something grounding, a steady bone-deep warmth seeping into places the cold had lived for years.

“For the record,” you said, into the quiet.

“Mm.”

“You could have just eaten the cake.”

A beat. Then, low and dry, his voice rumbling against your cheek. “I’m aware of that.”

“Would have been easier.”

“I said I’m aware, princess.”

You smiled against his skin. “I’m just saying. For future reference. If I offer you a spoon—”

“I’ll take the spoon.”

“Good.”

“Don’t test me again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured, partially lying as you pressed a soft kiss to the scar over his eye.

prologue ⧽ read more

this is actually a bonus chapter from the main ‘sublimation’ universe ;)

[stevenose]

hold on, sweet talking lover (18+)

you just love putting ideas into your cute summer fling’s pretty little head!

contents: s3!steve x reader; handjobs; masturbation; facial (reader receiving)!!!; needy!steve; gender unspecified reader

a note: this was 80% finished and sitting in my drafts for months… decided today was a good day to finish it! super short and sweet for u. i hope you like <3

Steve’s so fun to play with. He’s quick to give in to any and all of your advances. Even when he’s wearing his stupid Scoops uniform, feeling like a goddamn moron while you’re stroking his dick in the break room.

There’s an unspoken, but obvious truth: Steve hasn’t had sex in months.

He’s so backed up that it’s borderline ridiculous. You’ve managed to make his tight shorts all sticky just from swiping your tongue across his bottom lip. He’s fully whipped for you, desperate for you to come around and make his life mean something more than waffle cones and butterscotch.

He’s never felt so low, and he’s never felt so good.

You give him anything he wants. It feels good to be so wanted and so helpful. And sometimes, you can’t stop yourself from planting ideas into his pretty little brain.

You’re jerking him off from the back. Pressing hot, open mouthed kisses along his freckled neck while he desperately tries to stop himself from fucking into your fist.

“Shouldn’t waste it,” you whisper, rolling your fist, making him moan. “Wanna paint my face?”

Upon the last syllable, he’s coming. Muscles flexing, his stomach trembling, ropes of cum landing on the break room table while his toes curl in his tennis shoes.

You pout over his shoulder while his chest heaves, his cock slowly softening in your palm, his big hands gripping onto your forearms.

“Should’ve made a mess on me instead.”

Another pathetic little shot of cum makes his legs weak. You smile and bite his earlobe, tasting the salt of his sweat.

“Does that sound like a good idea, Steve?”

He grits his teeth. It does, but he doesn’t know how to say it without sounding like a disrespectful asshole.

His cock speaks for him, though. Managing to stiffen again, his balls twitching, ready for more. Ready for the sight of his come on your face. Like he really fucking owns you. Like he’s on top and in control for the first time in a year.

“Pretty please?” you plead softly, the corners of your lips tilting up. “Ruin me, sailor.”

In a blur, you’re on your knees, and he’s towering over you. One of his hands wraps around his shaft, and his biceps flex as he begins stroking himself off. His shorts rest right below his aching balls, and he feels so goddamn dumb. But you’re still on your knees, and you’re looking up at him with puppy dog eyes.

He almost misses his chance. Anxious about taking too long on his break, or someone walking in. He’s working with the new hire today, not Robin, and he doesn’t know if that’s better or worse. He just can’t seem to come — until you softly whisper, “please?”

Steve’s stomach tenses, and then he comes with a long, low groan, eyelids hooded and his bottom lip bit pink by his teeth. You smile, eyes closed, each rope of come painting your beautiful face.

“Holy shit,” Steve mumbles, his voice gravelly in his chest, his legs shaking as he finishes. It’s hard to keep his eyes open, but he must — the sight of you is too good to lose.

Your hands find his hips and you hold them, trying to help him stay upright.

“Do I look pretty?” you ask.

Steve’s eyes roll halfway back. “Yeah, baby,” he drawls. “Gorgeous.”

[velvetciders]

mirrorball

۶ৎ after steve supported you through a hard time in your life, he watched you shine right back into yourself again. he just didn’t know how hard he’d fall in love when you did.

bestfriend!steveharrington x reader

wc: 7.8k+

warnings: mention of alcohol, skinny dipping (sorta they have underwear on) , talk of depression, first kiss

Today was something different. Something he took out of his life, tried to downplay it. His birthday.

He never thought much of it, no matter how hard he tried, because it sometimes felt too much. But a part of him, maybe his vulnerable self, managed it.

And it wasn’t because the day revolved around him, that he got all the attention that he was used too. It was about the people, mostly you, and being around love he normally didn’t see at home.

Reassuring and proud.

He was never very fond of the birthday culture, with the presents and all eyes on him. It was never involved in his life, so he learned to not give it importance- and believing his life was still the same without it.

Eventually as he got older, graduated, made a life for himself, it changed.

You somehow got closer to Steve, closer than Robin was, than everyone. You two didn’t know how it happened, it just did so naturally. His eyes were always drawn to you, noticing how his heart fluttered differently than when it did it others. You showed him what being cared for looked like, how it felt- and he gradually accepted it.

Every year, the celebration was the same, one that he loved and felt most comforted with. A bonfire nestled somewhere in the forest of Hawkins, with drinks and music, with the breeze flying through and songs blasting high.

He woke up that morning with a sense of dread and regret, even if he already agreed.

What pushed him through the day and before the party was someone who made him feel embarrassingly soft. Like what he did everyday was special.

You.

“I don’t know about this one.” You say quietly with a tilt to your head, looking in your mirror.

You watched Robin spring up from your bed.

You wore a short, almost babydoll dress, that was silver with little sparkles- the spaghetti straps gliding smooth over your skin. It was a pretty dress, you had to admit, and it made your features glow.

After these past few months, you’d never imagine you would see yourself like this. In a gorgeous dress, out of your bed, getting ready for a party.

Ready to see him.

“Honest to everything, Steve is going to flip.” She exclaims, “you’re seriously gonna make him lose his shit.”

“Robin!”

“What?” You give her a dead stare, “Oh cmon, you gotta admit a little bit of it is for him.”

You shake your head with a pink face.

“…It’s his birthday.”

“Yyyeah but you’ve been like best friends for years who totally dance around each other, and he’s a total moron for not-”

“Okay, okay!” You giggle, biting the inside of your cheek to try and not smile. The concept felt so off, but when Robin said it, it sounded right.

“But it’s not anything bad! I just think.. he’s scared.” She says lightly, “it’s nice you’re doing this, going tonight, I mean.”

That was the thing. You were doing it for Steve. Your makeup, your hair, everything. Yourself. And you knew he appreciated you just for you, he’s said it countless of times, but you wanted to thank him after everything he’s done.

After making you feel stable again.

You swirl the dress a little to try and convince yourself that this was perfect. That it was just right for him.

“He’s really going to love it, you look.. so pretty. Trust me.” She says softer.

You turn and your eyes meet hers, and you could see she really means what she says. You take a deep breath and look back in the mirror.

“I don’t wanna mess things up.” You admit. “It’s his day and I just- I know he’s still going to be worried. He doesn’t need that right now.”

There was a beat of silence, blankets rustling.

“You wanna know something?”

“..What?”

“Yesterday at work, I swear. Couldn’t stop talking about you and how excited he was for tonight.”

You turn your head but you couldn’t catch yourself smiling. Your face was etched with something more emotional, more aware of what you truly deserved. The bond between you and Steve was too real for something to blush about.

Normally you would tease her back, try to deny it, but something in your heart told you not too.

“Really?” You ask.

“Really.”

“Oh.”

She nods and finishes putting on her shoes, fixing anything that was off. She gets up and stands next to you, looking at yourself and then you through the reflection.

“I wish you saw him.” She smiles, sweet and encouraging, “he was a complete madman. I even had to shut up, and you know it’s the opposite!”

You giggle at that and feel your body turn lighter, especially in moments where you can really think about how grateful you were. Suddenly, you felt Robin grab your shoulders and steer you away from the mirror.

“Now!” She raves, “we both look hot as hell, especially you, and it’s finally time for a good party.”

You fake groan and let her drag you downstairs and out the front door, your head feeling loud. The chill immediately hit you, goosebumps appearing, but you were already to close to the car for a return back.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry- I just can’t stop imagining what Steve’s face is gonna be.” She squeals, fumbling with the keys.

“Stooop!”

“What?”

“If you say anything to him, you’re dead Rob.”

The car starts and she starts to drive to the road that leads to the forest. You couldn’t ignore the sound of your heart racing, and you truly didn’t know why.

You’ve seen Steve almost every day, the reasons for that, you tried to not think of. But it was putting yourself out there, smiling again, allowing your heart to settle. You just wished it was you and him, not in front of a crowd.

It’s always been you two. Like how it was every night. The nights where you didn’t even have to call, and he was there. With his fingers unknotting the tension in your head, soaking up your tears and steadying your shakes. There were some nights where he’d stay on the phone with you, laying on his side with his eyes fluttering shut and listening to your breathing.

Some nights, he cried about you. With you or without you. Because when he saw your eyes, your state, he couldn’t help but feel his heart break at how much you lost yourself.

He would notice when something was wrong, by the crease in your eyebrows and how your cuticles were freshly sore. Sometimes when it was morning, his face smushed to your pillow with his eyes closed, you’d blink and replay the past hours. At how close he would get. Kissing your face so tenderly that it didn’t seem like a question.

In that moment, he knew it then. He’d do anything for you. His string was devoted to yours, almost like he’d go back in time and align the stars again just so he could reconnect with you.

Steve tried to push his feelings away. No, he was your best friend, he was supposed to be there for you. You didn’t need that during this time in your life, which was overthinking the feelings of a boy instead of focusing on your mental health.

You blinked and you could see it. The orange glow behind the many rustled trees of the forest, growing stronger and higher.

“Hey.” Robins voice snaps you back and you turn your head.

Her hand reaches to yours.

“Breathe, okay?” She says, taking a deep breath and watching you follow her, yours coming out uneven.

“It’s gonna be super fun. You’re gonna see Steve.. everyone, have s’mores.”

Her words made you smile.

“And if you wanna leave, tell me. I don’t care if I’m in the middle of some horrible dancing. Tell me.”

You tried to laugh at that, you really did. But the sound caught in your throat and you felt your hands start to shake. You slowly pull your hand away, hugging her over the console.

“Thanks Robin.” You say so quietly. She smiles anyway.

You and Robin walked through the man made trail further into the glow, holding onto her arm as your heart continued to race, your dress feeling tight on you.

It was okay. You were okay, everything was safe and you would see Steve.

Music seeped into your ears and you could see the water of the lake glistening under the moonlight. You saw people, close friends who were smiling and laughing by the fire. Everyone seemed so happy.

Your heart slowed.

When you got closer, every other girl was wearing a dress- but somehow yours stood out just a bit more.

Your name and Robins were immediately squealed throughout other girls, and they rushed to hug you, their perfume filling your nose. And you melted right away, because you haven’t seen them in so long and it was like your heart knew that it was at home.

And you were smiling.

Real, bright, and so natural that it made your stomach twist.

You and Robin made your rounds to say hi to everyone, your gift for Steve clutching tight in your grasp. Because then you saw him in the middle of your hug with Nancy, his eyes trained on you. He was waiting.

Waiting for a moment between you and him. Just two.

Robin nudged you and gave you an encouraging smile, and you returned it back.

Before you got even make your way to Steve, he was already five steps ahead, jumping over to you. You couldn’t tell from the fire, but his face seemed brighter and pinker than it was from afar. He immediately hugged you, your feet gently lifting off the ground.

You let out a breath that was deep in you and you felt like laying down right there, straight into his arms and away from everyone else.

“Hey!” You could hear his smile. “You came.”

So you pulled away, proving your point. It reached his eyes and his pupils were wide.

“Happy birthday.” You manage to hand him the bag without shaky hands.

“Thank you.” He says with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen. That was Steve, after all.

He took it and put it down, his hands seemed to be occupied somewhere else. His fingers slithered around your waist and he tugged you closer, causing you to raise your eyebrows.

“Usually, you open it.” You tilt your head, lips curling upwards.

“You look so pretty.” He breathes out. “Like…wow.”

You stutter. “You.. you look good too.”

His eyes trailed up and down, before going back to your face. Normally it would made you feel small, gross under that gaze. His was gentle and unwavering, not like he was imagining you without it. But you knew it was never like that with him- he truly did see you as some sort angel.

Your heart flipped right away. At his words, his face, at everything.

“Is this new?” He gently slides his finger underneath the strap of your dress, and your face felt hot.

“Keeping track on my closet?”

“Maybe.. I mean no!” His eyes widen in an attempt to joke. “Is it though?”

“Mm.” You hum shyly, your eyes never looking away from his eyes, like you were hypnotized. “Robin helped me pick it out.”

“For once, Robin was right.” He chuckles, “let me um, you want a drink?”

You could tell he was quickly trying to hide his red face, and you tried your hardest not to smile at his attempt, the way he swallowed nervously. You could never ignore the way he looked at you, regardless of your relationship. Friends.

“Yeah, sure.” You smile.

He nods and strains his eyes away from you, holding onto your hand and taking you to the cooler that was next to the wood benches.

He reached for the soda without hesitation, one of your favorites, but you shook your head.

“Actually um.. is the beer good?” You ask.

He looks up at you and blinks. He looked so different in that moment. Handsome. He stuttered a sound and nodded- a little taken aback back because you rarely drinked.

“Yeah it’s good, you want one?”

“…Sure.”

“You don’t have too if you don’t wanna.”

His voice was so soft that you almost gave in. But you wanted too. You wanted to feel layed back and take your mind off the things that haunted you at night. You felt safe doing that around him.

You took the can from his hands and opened it- drinking it at the same time he was with his.

You could see him smiling against the metal and he watched your eyes widen at the taste, since it was different from the ones you’ve tried before.

“Holy shit.” You laugh.

“Good?”

“You’ve got good beer taste.”

“That’s so not a thing.”

“So is.”

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you since he hugged you. And you noticed. You didn’t want to change a thing.

He shakes his head and smiles at you like he’s forgotten all those horrible nights where you looked down on yourself. He looked at you like you were the greatest, a girl who glowed into a room, not someone who cried herself to sleep every night.

“You’re something else.” He playfully says back.

“You tolerate it well.”

He bit the inside of his cheek with a lingering smile and looked away.

Later that night, you and Steve stuck around with each other. He managed to make countless excuses to continue walking around with you. You noticed it. When you stood across from him in a circle of friends, he just could not stop looking at you. You went to different groups of people, catching up and finding your place again. You felt like you belonged again, and it was so so refreshing.

You fell back into such an easy rhythm, and with the way Steve talked to you, he seemed proud. With his hand gently resting on your lower back, looking down at you with the most gentle expression ever. And you returned it back.

Sometimes it got too quiet, and he’d take you to some trees farther away from everyone. You would lean against the tree and he’d be right in front of you, eyes darting across your entire face.

His smell was so strong, with his hands fiddling with yours. And it felt so familiar again. So right, even if it was so wrong at the same time.

“I was gonna show up to yours this morning.” He admits.

You tilt your head.

“Why didn’t you? I was home.”

He shrugs and turns his head, the moonlight shining onto his face as he looks at the lake. He was so pretty and that thought lingered in your head for a long time. You couldn’t think like that.

He was your friend, the one who’s always been there for you, who had your back in any given time. He didn’t need all that came with you. He deserved better than that. Stable.

“I didn’t know if you were gonna come tonight.”

You frown and say quietly, “‘Course I’d come, Steve. I know I haven’t been out much but it’s.. it’s you. It’s us.”

He looked back and he already looked relieved.

“M’ really proud of you.” He starts, “and I don’t wanna sound cheesy or something. But I am, and.. I’m glad you here.”

Your eyes dart back and forth to his and that’s when you realize how intimate this was. You were so close to him, and the way you two quietly talked to each other felt like a secret. With his hands intertwined with yours and his breath fanning over your lips.

Being this close to him reminded you of those nights. The nights where he practically had to shake you to stop the crying, his lips pressed to the side of your face as he whispered. Maybe because he saw you at your lowest, the worst you’ve ever been, means that he saw you as his first. That you were Steve’s first thought in the morning, wether if it was out of concern or not.

“All cus of you.” You whisper. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Yeah?” He asks, unsure but willing to believe.

“…Yeah.”

He stayed quiet, his baby pink lips parted, and god, you wanted to kiss him so bad. You didn’t have a clue that he was thinking, what’s been going on in his head all night.

“On top of that, you look so fucking beautiful.” He chuckles, “your dress, everything else. Beautiful.”

You roll your eyes and nudge him, feeling yourself instantly smile. After all these months of forcing it to appear, something simple like seeing Steve and listening to him instantly brought it back. Your stomach felt fuzzy.

“I look like a disco ball.”

“A beautiful disco ball.”

“Who definitely smells like beer.” You giggle and he shakes his head with the most genuine expression.

“You smell perfect. Everything’s perfect.” He hums.

He leans foward, hand sliding behind your neck and kissing your forehead like he always did, your shoulders dropping. He peppered it once more and it felt like how it did back in your bedroom, when you broke down and he kissed it all away.

He pulls back with his hair in front of his face, and you pushed your hand foward to push it away.

Before you could do that, someones voice rang through the trees, calling Steve’s name. He sighed and flickered his eyes back to you, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear.

All this mess, the hair in front of each others faces, was evidence of how flushed you two were. But the words, the feelings, lingered in the air and it didn’t feel like they would be acknowledged anytime soon. You were scared.

It took a moment before he talked again.

“I swear I’m gonna kick everyone out.”

“You own the forest now?”

“Oh, obviously. It can be yours too, but you gotta earn it.”

You laugh and tilt your head back, leaning it against the bark like his name wasn’t being yelled. He leaned closer anyway like it was just another excuse to stay longer.

“And what do I have to do to earn a title of the forest?”

He squints his eyes and pretends he’s thinking, which only reminded you of how happy he made you, with your cheeks aching from smiling. You were so glad you came after almost not going.

“…Maybe if you promise to stay later? After everyone’s gone?” He whispered.

You’d do anything to hear that gentle voice for the rest of your life.

His name was yelled again and you frowned. He opened his mouth and his eyes looked like he would stay.

“Cmon.” You say softly before he could, lacing his hand with yours and going back to the fire- his eyes trained to the back of your head, his heart gravitated towards you.

It was getting late, the sun already slipped away.

But the party was still buzzing, the people were still drinking and celebrating Steve with multiple woo’s and pats on his back. The music was louder and it seemed like everyone was at the drunken stage at the party, escaping in couples into the woods with grins.

You and Steve got detached from each other, your arms dragged into the side of the fireplace where people danced. You quickly got caught up in it, a drink in your hand and shouting the lyrics to a song with Nancy.

“Hey!” You felt a soft tug on your shoulder.

“Have you seen Steve?” You heard Robins voice.

Your heart jumped just at the name and you shake your head. It’s always been like this.

The assumption that you and Steve knew where each other were, like a pair that never got strung away. In all the facade that you two were just close friends, you liked it. You liked how it was always you and Steve, together, like you two couldn’t navigate without each other.

You preferred it that way.

“No.” You say loudly over the music. “Is he okay?”

She nods, “Probably! I just forgot to give him his present.”

“Want me to come with you?”

“No, no it’s okay! I’ll be back!”

And with that she quickly left, her eyes buzzing behind the drinks as well.

You went back to singing and dancing with Nancy, the two of you twirling each other around and jumping across the dirt of the forest.

Your mind flashed to Steve. His eyes. His stupid floppy hair that you craved to run your fingers through. His touch. Warm and grounding. You continued dancing, losing yourself in the music and your eyes blurring those around you.

For a moment, you felt like air. All those dark thoughts at night seemed to escape you as you jumped around, screaming your lungs out.

You felt like how it did when you were happy last year. Maybe this was all you needed, being with people around you who loved you and guided you with a hand on your back. Like how he did.

Despite the dancing, the drinks running through your system, you always thought about him.

Unbeknownst to you, Steve almost physically felt his breath leave him.

He was talking to a friend he hadn’t seen in a while, when he looked towards the fire, just to see its bright orange color. And through it, it glowed and shimmered silver.

He knew it was you.

Your crazy and free dancing, with that pretty dress he couldn’t take his eyes off, with the warmest smile he’s never seen.

You were glowing.

Your hair was sticking and falling perfectly in front of your face, your feet hopping around like life was infinite. Despite all the chatter and music, he heard your laugh echo. Saw your smile finally reach your eyes.

It happened so fast that he felt his heart drop.

You were there. All this time, in front of him, all his life. A mirror into his future, into what he could’ve had if he just tried. He felt his heart break at the potential of the two of you, kissing endlessly and cuddling deep into the night.

And yet you seemed so distant at the same time, like he had your grasp for a second before you moved on. You didn’t need him anymore. You appeared happy, you were radiating, and you didn’t need his whispers of comfort.

I love her so much, he thought. But this time, he didn’t call himself stupid for feeling that way. He believed it.

His face felt hot from the gravitation of just seeing you. Beautiful, there, and he couldn’t believe he’s spent those quiet nights with you.

Steve wanted the loud ones too, like right now, with your figure shimmering under the fire- all his.

He excused himself for a moment, hands shaking when he placed his beer on the ground. He felt electric but wanted to pass out at the same time, his feet already moving with no hesitation.

Would he dance? Take your hand and spin you around, show everyone that this was real?

He got closer and closer, and the moment he grazed your shoulder, a romantic slow song came on. Great.

“Steve.” Your hushed voice made him blink, his heart stuttering when he looked down at you.

Your face was flushed and your chest rised up and down, like this was the most relief you’ve gotten in a while. He smiled at that.

“Robin’s been looking for you.” You say breathlessly. But your hands slithered around the back of his biceps and he didn’t care to move. It was so… touchy.

“S’ okay.” He says. “She’ll find me later.”

You titled your head and let out a breathy laugh- your mind already forgetting her. He was finally close to you again, your touch on his skin feeling electric.

“Dance with me.” You say.

“Are you drunk?”

“…No.”

He shakes his head with a grin, your eyes glowing like he’s never seen before. He hoped it was because of him and not the alcohol running through you.

But he was drunk too and he couldn’t help but slowly sway you back and forth, feeling too reckless to care. Your dress flowed around, your hair blew, and he felt goosebumps all over.

He fixed the strap that was slowly cascading down your shoulder.

“Having fun?” He asks, face inching closer so you only heard.

You hum in response, eyes darting back and forth to his, your lips parting and slowly lifting upwards.

“What about you, birthday boy?”

He chuckled at that. The teasing finally sounded like you, which he always enjoyed.

“Best night ever.” He responds. “Best birthday, actually.”

“I bet you got a lot of gifts.” You say so purely, “I like my gift.”

He paused for a moment at that. Because it wasn’t really about the gifts, was it? He knew deep down in his heart that he wouldn’t have thrown this party if it wasn’t for you.

You encouraged him, convinced him that everyone loved and appreciated him the same way you did. Tonight, he got to see you shine again. He got to see his best friend glow under the light of the moon and fire, meshing into one beautiful piece of art that he wished was his.

He got to fall in love with you. As blatant as it sounded, that’s what it was.

You were so broken, you could still feel it inside you, but it was healing.

The thing was, Steve loved every single chip and edge of it. Because he knew he could soften them, he knew that despite the shadows in your mind, he’d still fall back to you. A shinning girl.

After a few seconds, he said quieter, “That’s not why.”

Your lips parted at that and it was now your turn for your cheeks to turn pink. You smiled faintly, the look on your face laced with pure shyness. You always felt like that around him.

You knew exactly what he meant when he said that, and you assumed you would forget it tomorrow. But you couldn’t forget the way it made you feel.

“Yeah?” You whisper, your fingers starting to dig into his hair.

His eyes fluttered for a second. He nodded.

“Can we go somewhere quieter?” You ask.

“What?”

He leaned in closer, his hair skimming yours, and his breath buzzed. The music was too loud and your voice wasn’t.

“Let’s go somewhere quieter.” You say into his ear, glad he couldn’t see your burning face.

He blinked and his mouth opened for a second, his mind jumbling on what to say. You didn’t seem overwhelmed like you normally were in crowds, you weren’t picking at your skin and shaking.

You looked like you meant it. And looks were better than tone, in his opinion. He always knew what you wanted.

He could just see it in your eyes, the way it flickered out to the lake that was just a few minutes away. He never wanted something more.

“Yeah, let’s go.” He smiles, hand sliding down and intertwining with yours.

It was so easy with him. You’d follow him wherever he went, you thought.

Your back pressed firmly against a boulder that was planted in the dirt, eyes facing toward the glistening lake. Steve did the same.

You felt sobered out by how close Steve was.

Your shoulder brushed his in the middle of it, your hands still laced together on his lap, thumb gently tracing over your cold skin. Your knee was pressed to his but neither of you moved away. It was quiet back there, far from all the noise, only faint owls being heard.

“I’ve been thinking about you.” He says after a long time.

You blink and he knew you were too nervous to look at him.

“Yeah? About what?”

“These past few months.” He hesitates to say.

Your eyes trained to your knees that layed flat on the ground because you were familiar with those months. The restless nights where you cried yourself to sleep, the nights where you didn’t because he was there. It happened so fast, like a switch, that feeling of being down all the time and wishing some mornings didn’t come.

It was hard for you to open up to Steve, and you almost did it by accident. He was having a hard time with his parents and he came over to yours for some quiet, softness. You cried to him that night and blurted out, your words disguised by what you knew was depression. Seeing your face red like that, your body shake into his, made him forget all his problems. Holding you was enough.

“Oh.” You manage to say.

You knew he was looking at you. You could always feel when he did, which was often. Sometimes when you slept. It made you curl into a ball and melt in his arms.

“I’ve been doing better. It’s been hard but it’s.. better.”

He nods. “I know, I can see it. You look really happy tonight.”

You look at him, his pupils already dialated.

“I just- I’ve been wanting to tell you that I’m really glad it was me.” He says quietly, his fingers squeezing yours, “That you felt comfortable enough to tell me things. I know it must’ve been hard.”

You gave him a small smile. He scooted closer because he knew you were trying hard to keep it together.

You curled up closer to him because ever since you two sat down, his eyes never left you. So warm, big, hazel.

“I want you to keep doin’ that, if its happy or not. Cus I’m always here, okay?”

You took a deep breath and you felt it shake inside your stomach. Your knees pushed against your chest and you hugged his arm tightly.

“You’re my first thought, Steve.” You whisper. “Always.”

You heard his breath hitch at that, his arms tightening around you. He kissed the top of your hair, your strands tasting like smoke and pinewood. He wanted to stay in this embrace until the sun rose.

“You are too.” He says.

You take a moment to find your words again.

“I still feel sad a lot for no reason, but not all the time.” You continue, “I honestly don’t know what happened to me, it’s like… I lost myself. I don’t know why.”

He rubbed your sides up and down, feeling the sparkles and small gems on your dress. He gently squeezed your hip.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be explained at the moment. It’s just not coming to you cus it’s happening right now, and it’s okay. But when all those bad feelings go away, which they will, you’ll see it.”

You look up at him, his hair strands flopped over his face and some over his eyes. You gently pushed it back like routine.

“I hope it does.” You whisper.

“It will, I know it. I promise.”

“And I want you to be there. When that happens.. when I’m happy.”

He smiled warmly, and he felt his cheeks hurt from how much he’s smiled at you tonight. “Tonight’s been really fun.” He hears you say.

His eyes flicked to your shoulders, your neck, your eyes again.

“…It would’ve been boring if you weren’t here.”

“Your birthday party couldn’t be boring regardless.” You let out a soft laugh and he felt it against his arm.

“It for sure would’ve been boring.” He chuckles, playfully glaring his eyes. “You’re the only person I want around, if I’m being honest.”

“That so?”

“Very much so.”

You smiled and shook your head teasingly, looking back to the water. His head never turned like yours, still looking down at you, still wanting to say the words deep in his heart. His lips parted and seeing this version of you was like a piece of him sparking up again. His eyes skimmed the top of your face and he could see how your eyes fluttered at the sight of the lake.

“Let’s go swim.” He suggests.

“It’s definitely freezing.”

“You don’t wanna swim with the birthday boy?”

“It’s already the next day, Steve.” You giggle. “Can’t use that card now.”

When you turned to look at him, your eyes glowing, you saw his bottom lip tugged out into a small pout. You rolled your eyes and laughed, because you knew that he reeled you in too far. Before you could blink, he smushed a soft kiss to your forehead and jolted up- hand extended.

You took it and he pushed you up. You looked down and realized that there was no way you would go inside the water with your dress on.

“No way.” You shake your head. “I’m not going in with my dress on.”

He shrugged like it was no big deal, his hands already coming to take off his shirt and shorts, leaving him in his boxer shorts.

“Just keep your underwear on.”

“Steve!” You scoff with a shy laugh and he grinned at you.

“Oh cmon, it’s just me.” He dips his feet in the small area of water, “it’s dark anyways, I won’t see.”

You glare your eyes at him because you knew he most definitely could see. The moon was shinning brightest on its early summer days, and the fire a distance away echoed shadows.

You realized he was already ankle deep in the water and you felt a little silly for standing there, watching him. You always watched him.

Once his back was turned and he was focused on getting deeper into the water, you slowly slipped off your dress. The chill instantly hit you and you knew it was going to get worse when you got in. You tiptoed over and felt the water, and you let out a soft yelp at how cold it felt.

“Oh my god!” You shudder, “no way Steve, I don’t wanna. It’s freezing!”

You hugged yourself and you heard him chuckle. It wasn’t mocking or cocky at all, just in a way that made him smile at how pure you could be in these moments. He swam over to you, hair stuck up, his shoulders shinning in drops.

“Cmere.” He says softly, hand coming out again.

You took a deep breath and took it, his fingers icy. He firmly wrapped it around you and it felt like anything but shivers. It was genuine comfort. Vulnerability of being this exposed in front of him.

“You got it.” His voice was gentle as he slowly and slowly tugged you in, your throat hitching. “It feels better once you’re used to it.”

Goosebumps trail all over you but you still managed to get inside the water waist deep. You didn’t even realize that he never stopped holding you.

You two spent a few minutes swimming around, staying close to each other and laughing about the events of the night. And when he laughed with you, his eyes would gaze down to your lips, his ears turning pink. The two of you would just look at each other before going back to swimming, that same looking happening over and over again like a cycle.

It was stupid and so reckless, and you felt breathless but free at the same time. Almost like you never wanted to get out, never wanted to leave the sight of him under the moonlight.

“This is the stupidest idea ever.” You huff from the cold.

And when you finally emerged back from the water, he finally saw the version of you he was familiar with every night. Content with your shoulders relaxed, your makeup streaming down your face regardless of your huge smile. It was you, all over again, right in front of Steve. He wanted nothing more.

It was insanely intimate for the two of you just to dry off and say “friends”. Your hair was wet and your skin was glowing, and it was like seeing you for the first time.

He paddled just a bit closer to you and slithered his arms around your waist, tugging you closer. It was a slippery mess but he felt warm all over, your chest pressed against his and his hair pushed back by you.

Despite the cold wind hitting his exposed shoulders, he had no intent to move or let you go. He remembered the fond familiarity of being this close to you, how easily comfortable he felt even though he’s only been close to you for a few months.

His forehead brushed yours, and your hand slid behind his neck. He melted.

“You’re crazy, Steve Harrington.” You giggle, not even caring that you probably had runny mascara down your cheeks.

He pulled you closer, legs brushing yours underwater as you two stood, head tilted with a soft smile. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this much skin.

With a smirk, he said, “Mhm, and look who’s in the water.”

You rolled your eyes and he chuckled.

“…I feel so good.” You admit with a whisper.

“Like yourself again?”

You nodded.

He didn’t respond and you finally turned your head to look at him. You almost shriveled up into nothingness. His eyes were glued to your bra, to the thin lace detail that adored your chest. It was a new set, but there’s no way he’d know that, and the light pink color stood out in the darkness.

You gave him a small splash.

“I see you, perv.”

His smile returns and he splashes you back. “I like it. The lace.”

You take a moment to see it yourself, remembering the small little flower and vine patterns on it. It was pretty, and it made you feel like it too. Apparently, he agreed.

“I like it too.” You hum, “it’s a set.”

Oh god. Why did you say that? You definitely thought there was no way he’d go underwater just to see, he wouldn’t be able to anyways. That’s when you saw one of his hands splash down, holding your lower back and bringing you closer, fingers dancing across your wet skin and slowly doing down.

You felt a tug and immediately froze. He didn’t do anything bad, just simply traced his finger over the side of your underwear- shaking under the touch of the lace that clung to your skin, his knuckles just sliding under the material. You were completely breathless, eyes trained on the hair splaying all over his chest that dripped water.

“It looks.. really good on you.” He says quietly, even if it was just the two of you. Yet at the same time, scarily enough, he wanted the whole world to hear how he saw you.

“And I’m not just saying that. You really are beautiful. I mean it.”

“Steve…” You whisper because it felt like a lie.

Something that you would convince yourself while looking in the mirror, but it always fogged up and felt disgusting. And Steve was slowly leaning in.

He didn’t know how badly he wanted it.

To kiss you.

To feel you. Even if his skin was sliding against yours, it still wasn’t enough. It’s been hiding deep in his mind, in his soul, but tonight almost felt like a sign that he wasn’t making this all up.

“Believe me this time, please.”

“I try.” You whisper.

He was patient. Always. That’s something that defined Steve Harrington, that just made sense for you.

“Why do you think I took us out here? I… I want it to just be us. Always.” His voice slightly breaks, “And it’s not just because your pretty. Because you are, very pretty. You’re just- you’re you and it drives me insane… and I would stay here in the freezing cold the whole night telling you how much I like you.”

You blinked back tears, especially at his last words, because it swirled in your stomach that you felt utterly sick. And so beautiful at the same time.

He was everything you’ve ever wanted and more, like a crave that couldn’t be fulfilled no matter how many times you had it. You wanted him. But a part of you didn’t want him to want you, because your afraid of causing harm, meddling sadness into his life.

But he looked like he was ready for love, whatever that meant for you. He wanted to love you.

With his hair frazzled and already drying in the wrong places, a water drop just over his mole, eyes glossy just like yours. It looked like he meant it so dearly.

“I feel like it’s always been there.” You whisper.

He just nods because he felt that same aching numb. He whispered back.

“Me too.”

You felt your fingers start to shake against his shoulders, your head slightly twitching and your heart making your skin move. You didn’t expect to feel this sinking feeling.

You take a small inhale, stopping midway because the nerves caught up to your throat, blinking the tears away and looking down at his chest. Anything but his eyes.

“I tried to push it away so hard.” You breath out, voice squeaking.

“But why?”

“Cmon Steve.” You look up at him and you saw nothing but pure desperation on his face, your words breaking his heart more than your own.

It was so so sad.

You continue, “I’ve been in this… awful mess for months. And I- I can’t lay everything out on you. I just can’t. You don’t deserve that.”

He shakes his head with all his might. “Yes, you can. I don’t care about all that stuff, okay? I’ve been there for you before, every night, every phone call, everytime- everytime I’ve slept in your bed. And we both knew.. god, we knew. I was stupid not to have you sooner.

Small hiccups were starting to be heard from you, letting out soft cries, out of adoration for him and something else. He wiped away every single one.

He looked so handsome.

“You think it’ll ever change? No. I know it won’t. I like you so so so much.” He pleas, “you don’t deserve someone who doesn’t want to listen. But I want to listen, everytime, whatever it is.”

“I never want to bother you with my problems and I think… I’ve been holding it in for so long.” You say.

“I know you have.” He says, but not in a way to shame you. “And I’d do it over and over again, I’d sneak into your window at 2 am before you even have to call. I’d do anything for you.”

All you did was quickly nod, because with Steve, it was always the simplest task to believe him. He made it so easy, so beautiful written and said that it made you crave it deeply. Your hands clinged to his arms, nails digging into his embrace.

“Okay.” You whisper, eyes meeting his, the pure relief etched into them.

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“…Good.”

It was quiet after that, his words lingering in the air and the water delicately flowing around you two. His eyes never left your face and you didn’t know where to look.

Steve was the last place.

“I like you too.” You blurt out, voice recovering. “So fucking much, Steve… it hurts. It hurts so bad.”

An ugly sob escaped you.

“Oh.” He mumbles sadly and immediately hugs you, his warmth radiating.

That night, you think you cried for 20 minutes straight, waist deep in the freezing water of Hawkins, your legs tangled with his under the surface. He kissed you everywhere, your bare shoulders, neck, everywhere that seemed tender in emotion. You didn’t realize how tense you’ve been.

He could feel how high you put your walls up and it broke his heart.

He never let go.

He whispered the sweetest words into your ear, exactly like all the other nights, but this time he was finally able to say the things he couldn’t. The words that would’ve revealed his feelings for you, the ones he locked far away. Every feature of you, everything he admired about you, your beauty. He confessed he would think about you every waken moment, collect movies for you for when you didn’t want to leave the house, make you food for when you were too sad for an appetite.

It was like he did almost everything when a boy was in love.

Along with that night, an hour passing, he finally kissed you. It was imperfectly perfect, while you two tried to get out of the lake, slipping right into his arms and landing his lips to yours.

You felt fuzzy that he never even looked down at your body when you two got out, no matter how hard the material clung to your skin. It showed you that Steve Harrington truly didn’t like you for your looks, your figure or outer personality.

It was what was really deep inside, a side for his view and what your worth truly was. The girl he got to live life with, being right there in your journey, seeing every step.

And that you were also his. Steve’s.

You two kissed for some more, passionately and clumsy, nothing else with no intention for more. You gently pulled down onto his chin so his lips parted, tilting your head and deepening the kiss.

“I’ve thought about kissing you so much.” He slowly pulls away, thumb tracing your cheekbone, “every night we were together. Everytime we hugged.. when we talked, when we layed next to each other.”

“…I would’ve kissed you back.”

His stomach flutters. “Good to know.” And he’s back to kissing you, languid and promising.

A cheer is erupted back where the bonfire was, reminding the two of you that there was an active party a few feet away.

“I’m actually gonna kick everyone out now. I didn’t even get a s’more.” He whispers against your swollen kissed lips with a pouty face.

You giggle, hair tousled and damp from his fingers digging into it.

“You made that threat before and it didn’t work.”

He smirked and tightened his arms around you, dipping his head, finding your lips with his again. You smiled against it and he returned it back.

This felt so natural it almost felt fake. With your feet on your tiptoes, his arms fitting right into yours, nose nudging his in a mind losing kiss.

He held you so gently like it’s been the first time he’s ever touched you. However this time, just maybe, it was the first time he did it with all his heart.

With so much love.

He pulled away reluctantly, lips smacking, and kissed your forehead- keeping his mouth right against your head.

“I mean it this time.” He whispers.

——

wow longest fic yet!!!

who else is also shocked, upset, surprised, idk what how to feel about SUPER SOAKER being AI?????✋✋✋✋ cus I know I am

[steddiesprettiestgirl]

⋆˙⟡ my bad habits lead to you

ᯓ★ roommate!steve harrington x f!reader

⋆.𐙚 ̊ cw — mdni, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, cum eating, oral (f and m receiving), kinda subby!steve at the start, pet names, steve is also lowk a munch, praise kink, steve is hopelessly in love with reader, he’s also kinda cocky, slight body dysmorphia??, some body shaming, belly bulge

⋆.𐙚 ̊ summary — after a very terrible date and a big blow to your ego, steve helps you find clarity on whether you’re the issue in a very unconventional way.

⋆.𐙚 ̊ authors note — hi guys! i lowk feel like this kinda ate but please lmk if it sucked… it was a tiny but rushed at the end because i really wanted to get it out but its whatever. also currently writing sparks again yayyyy!!! please send in any smutty or fluffy requests you have :p

⋆.𐙚 ̊ wc — 6.16k

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹ please do not copy, rewrite, or repost my works on any other platforms or pages.

bitter was the best and only way to describe how steve harrington was feeling as he sank into the couch in your shared living room. he was watching some rerun of a film he’d seen a thousand times over with an uncomfortable pit in his stomach as he thought about the date you were currently on.

you’d been talking on the phone to robin about it all day. and unfortunately for him, your bedroom walls were thin. he could hear everything. how he was a little older, richer, and extremely built. it made him want to rip his ears off for the rest of the conversation.

being roommates with you was easy. you made it so easy to be comfortable and happy in this little apartment. you were sweet, considerate, and fun to be around. and one of his favorite bonuses was that you loved cooking and baking. that meant he always had some sort of home-cooked meal waiting for him when he got home from work with a tasty desert to follow.

you always did the dishes at the end of the week (not that there were many because you always did them after you cooked), kept the house clean, kept your music down, and helped him whenever he needed advice or needed to rant. you were always there for him no matter what.

but being roommates with you was so hard. not because you were hard to live with, obviously, because he was falling so hard for you. hearing you tell him about your dates, watching you get all pretty for another man, seeing you come back all cheesy and excited. it made his heard squeeze in his chest every time. because surely, that should be him.

the longer he thought about it, the more he wanted to just curl up and die. he stuffed a miserable handful of popcorn into his mouth and lousily chewed it, throwing his head back and wishing you’d just come home and say it was the worst date ever known to mankind.

almost as if he’d manifested it, he heard a soft knock at the door before hearing the knob turn carefully. he quickly swallowed down the snack in his mouth and sat up to look towards the front door. it opened slowly, like you were afraid he’d be sleeping, before you appeared with tears streaked down your cheeks and a permanent frown on your lips.

his heart snapped in two right then and there. “woah. hey, you okay?” he asked, throwing an arm over the back of the couch so he could turn and face you to talk to you clearer. “what happened?”

you let your purse fall from your hand onto the ground before sulking your way over to sit beside him, letting out a loud huff as you plopped down. “it was mortifying, stevie. i’m so embarrassed,” you muttered shyly and brought your hands up to cover your face. “just kill me already.”

a soft chuckle left his lips as he shifted his body towards you a little bit. “i’m sure it’s not worth dying over,” his voice was sweet and comforting, trying to gently coax out any sort of details from you. “talk to me. tell me what happened.”

you let out another sigh and closed your eyes to try and protect yourself from the reaction. “i couldn’t make him hard,” you blurted out.

steve’s eyes just about bulged out from his head. “what?” he asked, brows furrowed in towards each other. never mind the jealous surge in his chest, all he was focused on now was caring for you. “what do you mean?”

your cheeks blushed a deep shade of red from the mortification. finally, you turned to look at him. “the date was fine, right? everything was good— great even! then he said he wanted to take me back to his place and then we started making out and— and he just couldn’t get hard!” you explained in a quick ramble. “god, this is so embarrassing. i’ve blown guys before and this has never happened.”

his face scrunched up before he could stop it. he could feel that uncomfortable heat in his chest. jealousy? bitterness? anger? he wasn’t really sure right now. “hey, it’s not embarrassing. there’s a lot of different reasons that could’ve happened,” he said reassuringly. “were you two drinking?”

your brows furrowed slightly at that. “i mean— i guess, yeah. just a little bit,” you replied, picking up what he was starting to hint at.

“maybe it was the alcohol? drinking can make it harder to, y’know, get it up sometimes,” he explained awkwardly. “or maybe he’s on steroids. heard somewhere that that can make you real limp down there.”

now it was your turn to scrunch your face up in disgust. “ew, steve. don’t say it like that,” you groaned and stood up. reliving this conversation would make you cry some more if you had any tears left. “i haven’t even told you the worst part yet.”

his eyes scanned over your figure before deciding to follow you to your bathroom like he often did when you’d get up mid-story and start to wander. “what’s the worst part?” he asked timidly, closing the lid to your toilet before taking a seat on top of it while you took your makeup off.

“promise you won’t make fun of me?” you asked softly, not daring to look at him. you just continued carefully washing your face over the sink.

he was looking at you with so much love and adoration that it would’ve solved all of your worries the moment you even glanced at him. “i promise,” he said firmly. “whatever it is, i’m sure i’ve told you some stories that are way worse. i’m probably the last person allowed to judge.”

you wiped your face down with your towel before turning to face him. you could’ve screamed out of embarrassment just from recalling it. “he told me my boobs were weird.”

steve choked. like genuinely choked. “what?!” he blurted out, a mix of confusion and shock. “just like that? he just— he told you your boobs were weird?”

a small squeal left your lips at the reiteration of the worst sentence ever. seriously, you felt like dying. regret bubbled into your throat. “god, this is so humiliating. like, seriously.” you set the towel down on the drying rack and looked at yourself in the mirror. “i can never show my face out in public again. like— ugh! i mean, what the fuck. have you ever told a girl her boobs were weird?”

steve had a soft furrow between his brows, looking genuinely concentrated and concerned all at once. you couldn’t help but think he looked so cute. “uhh, no? i don’t think i’ve ever even seen boobs that looked weird,” he reasoned honestly. “boobs are boobs, y’know? like— i don’t know. i think they’re hot no matter what. i wasn’t aware there was a rule book for how boobs should look.”

your hands were resting on your hips as you analyzed him, looking for any sign that he was lying. he wasn’t. not one bit. suddenly, a new thought flickered through your head.

steve was hot, of course he was. you’d always thought so since you’d first signed that lease. he had that pretty smile that made you go stupid, a certain twinkle in his chocolate eyes, and a softness that made you blush every time. “i have an idea. but you have to be open minded.”

you literally watched steve gulp. hard. “and that is?”

“can i try something with you?” you blurted out before you had time to overthink it. “on you, i guess? you can say no! i won’t get offended or— or get all weird on you. i promise. i just… i wanna see if maybe i’ve been doing something wrong or…” you trailed off nervously, an aggressive blush coating your cheeks.

a sweet smile spread over his lips. you couldn’t tell whether it was a cocky one or a comforting one. you really hoped it was the second option. “yeah, if you’re okay with that.”

that was it? all you had to do was ask? “yeah, totally. it would give me some peace of mind,” you replied gratefully, trying not to give away how excited you truly were. “thank you so much, stevie. seriously. you’re doing me the biggest favor.”

steve wished you knew how big of a favor you were doing him actually. he’d spent countless nights hoping for this. he silently thanked every star he’d ever wished upon. “the pleasure’s all mine,” he said smoothly, standing up from his spot on the toilet seat. his eyes stayed locked on yours the entire time.

you’d be lying if you said that alone didn’t turn you on. his eyes were just so captivating. you made your way through the doorway and towards your bed, sitting and waiting expectantly for him to join you.

he was quick to follow and sit up against the headboard like he owned the space. it felt surprisingly natural. you shuffled a little closer before pausing. “is it okay if i kiss you? i just— i feel like maybe—“

his hand found your cheek to pause your nervous rambling with that same subtle but sweet smile on his lips. “c’mere,” he whispered, like speaking too loudly would ruin the moment.

you let him gently guide you closer to him before his pillowy lips met yours in a soft kiss, slowly testing the waters. surely he could hear how your heart was practically beating out of your chest now.

the hand on your cheek moved to hold the back of your neck while the other moved to hook around the back of your thigh to pull you into his lap. the new seat in his lap helped save your back from the uncomfortable position and awkward posture.

your lips moved in tandem like it was second nature, his tongue sliding across yours with a quiet groan spilling from him. the sound alone made heat rush through your body. your hands made their way into his hair to gently tug at the roots, pulling the sweetest moan from him.

this was certainly boosting your ego more than you’d like to admit. never would you have guessed he’d be so vocal.

the burn in your thighs grew more as the intensity increased, prompting you to allow yourself to fully sit in his lap. that’s when you felt it. one of the main reasons for this.

steve was hard. painfully so.

you could’ve swore he whimpered from the pressure of you on top of him. one of his hands, the one resting on your thigh, moved to your waist to pull you further into him until you were chest to chest. his scent was overpowering and intoxicating all at once. surely this night would actually kill you.

once you were sure the awkwardness had fully dissipated, you moved your lips down his jaw slowly and towards his neck, licking and sucking softly at the skin there. the way his hands squeezed at your hips, so responsive and needy, was enough to make you want to drop everyone else and stay here with him forever.

your hands made quick work of his shirt and mindlessly threw it somewhere on your floor as you kissed down his chest and to his waistband. it was hard to stay focused when he looked this pretty beneath you. pupils blown wide, lips swollen and slick, cheeks tinged pink, hair tousled and messy, chest heaving faster than he’d like. he looked absolutely wrecked and you hadn’t even gotten to the good part.

within a few seconds, his belt was off and you were laying between his legs helping him get his pants off until he was just in his boxers. even with the thin fabric on, you could see just how big he was.

you pressed a few soft kisses over the bulge before looping your hands into his waistband and tugging them down. a small gasp left at the sight of him. “oh my god.”

“what?” he asked, shifting slightly like he was scared he’d done something wrong. worry was visibly flooding his body. “is everything okay?”

you placed a hand on his thigh just above his knee to calm him down. “you’re jus’ huge, stevie,” you replied, borderline in awe. he was big and thick with the prettiest pink tip.

he let out a nervous laugh and exhaled the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in. his body began to slowly relax against the sheets again as he stared down at you, his pretty brown eyes now glazed over completely.

you gently took his heavy length into your hand and began to press soft kisses up the underside of it. your palms and lips were so incredibly soft, it made a shiver run trough his body. he was solely focusing all of his energy on not blowing his load right now.

because at the end of the day, this wasn’t about him. it was about helping you figure out whatever it was that you needed clarity on. if you were to ask him, he’d say you already got your answer. but if you wanted to keep going, he’d say surely wouldn’t stop you.

not when it felt this good.

and definitely not when you looked this pretty between his legs. your eye were a little glassy as your lips stretched around his tip and sucked softly on it. one of his hands moved to your head, lightly tugging at the roots without pushing your head. he was letting you go at your own pace.

your thighs squeezed in a useless attempt to alleviate the growing ache between your legs as you took steve further into your mouth. you could see his stomach tense as he left out a quiet whimper. “oh—holy shit. feels s’good,” he slurred, completely drunk off of you already.

one of your hands pumped his length as you kissed down the shaft and gently took one of his balls into the warmth of your mouth, moaning as you sucked on the skin. the taste of him was something you were sure you wouldn’t get enough of.

“baby— mphm! slow down,” he moaned, throwing his head back against the headboard as his legs tensed. “your mouth— oh! feels like fuckin’ heaven. making me feel so good, honey.”

you pulled away for a second to show him a toothy grin, twisting your fist at the base of him. “yeah?” you teased, pressing sweet kisses to his tip before letting spit pool into your mouth and drip down his length to help provide some more slick.

steve nodded and scratched at your scalp, biting his lip so hard he could taste blood. “mhm,” he hummed in response. he smiled down at you and for a moment, you felt your heart stop. there were some strands of hair falling over his eyes, his cheeks pink, his lips red and swollen, and his chest heaving. you took him back into your mouth and bobbed your head up and down his length, massaging his balls at the same time. “so fuckin’ good.”

he was struggling to say the least. his stomach was tensing repeated, his fingers curling in your hair, moans spilling lewdly from his lips. and when you pushed yourself a little further and took almost all of him down your throat, he was squeezing everything in him to try and last just a little longer.

“oh my fuck. baby— you gotta stop,” he pleaded through his teeth with a whine, though his actions were working against him as his hips bucked up into the warmth of your mouth. “gonna come. oh! ‘m coming.”

and before you knew it, his hand was planted firmly on your head as he came down your throat, hips rocking lightly up into you. “ho—holy shit. fuck! i’m sorry. i’m so sorry,” he whimpered as more of his load poured down your throat while holding you in place.

you moaned at the taste, making his hips buck up even further at the vibration. you slowly pulled off of him when the ropes of cum came to a stop. you swallowed every last drop and kissed up his heaving chest and back to his lips.

his hands immediately found your hips and pulled you onto him to straddle him once again. “how was that?” you asked with a knowing grin, voice a little grainy from the strain on your throat moments earlier. your eyes held a new hunger that had him hardening between your thighs immediately.

he huffed out a laugh and tipped his head back. “fucking amazing,” he replied immediately with a dazed smile. “don’t think i’ve ever come that hard in my life. thought i was seeing stars for a minute there.”

you giggled as a bright blush creeped up your neck and onto your cheeks. “so you think i get an a plus then?”

he clicked his tongue and turned his head to look at you again, so much adoration and warmth behind his eyes. “an a plus doesn’t even do it justice,” he stated, pulling you a little closer to him. “that was fucking unreal.”

you let your head fall into the crook of his shoulder to try and hide your smile. he let you lean your weight against him, closing his eyes and taking in the familiar scent of your shampoo that he loved so much. the two of you stayed like that for a minute or so.

when you finally pulled back to look at him again, you swore you died right then and there. his eyes were half-lidded and he had this big toothy smile on his lips like a kid on christmas. you couldn’t help but lean closer and kiss him.

it was so sweet and tender and soft. not like the first one. neither of you were rushing or trying to prove a point. just present in the moment with each other. he moaned quietly when you licked into his mouth and allowed him to taste himself. he just couldn’t get enough of you.

his hands wandered down at tugged at your pretty shirt that hugged your figure in the best way. he could feel your hesitation, the comment from your date clearly affecting you more than you’d let on.

steve pressed sweet, loving kisses to your cheek, down to your jaw, down your neck, and to the skin of your shoulder as he helped unzip it blindly behind your back. your body tensed the slightest bit as he carefully pulled down the straps and tugged it off of you.

he was absolutely captivated by you and how gorgeous you were. he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone so beautiful in his life until now. you were crafted to absolute perfection. you could hear him swear under his breath as his gaze scanned over your bare chest. “these are what he called weird?” he asked, his hands sliding up your stomach to gently cup the soft mounds. “what a fuckin’ idiot.”

his lips pressed slow kisses into the skin of your sternum as he trailed his way down to one of your breasts, sucking on the skin lightly enough to pull a reaction from you without leaving marks. even though he so desperately wanted to. your hands moved to tangle in his hair, lightly tugging when he began working his tongue over your nipple. “oh! stevie— hmph, feels good.”

he paused momentarily to smile up at you, completely dazed and enamored by you. “yeah? tell me what you need, honey.”

“want you to keep going,” you almost begged, pushing at his head the slightest bit to get his lips back on you. and he was sucking at your breasts again in an instant, groaning against the skin like he was tasting something extravagant. “and— fuck— need you inside me.”

you’d been subconsciously rocking your hips against his length this entire time and you were almost positive he could feel your wetness through your underwear. “fuck,” he muttered under his breath, closing his eyes for a quick second to recollect himself. “need you to tell me if you wanna stop at any point, ok?”

you nodded quickly, biting at your lip and humming in agreement. you reached between your legs to pull your underwear aside and give his length a few strokes, spreading the precum that had beaded at the tip. you could hear a strangled noise in his throat when you lined him up with your core.

his hands quickly bunched your skirt up around your waist and planted then firmly on the bare skin there as you sank down so he could get the best view. his mouth dropped open immediately as he watched his tip disappear into your weeping hole, your cunt greedily attempting to suck in even more of him.

you allowed yourself to take him in a little further before you were mewling at the fullness you already felt. it was like you were being split open. “stevie— fuck. you’re so big,” your eyes squeezed shut when you hit a small point of resistance. “mhpm. can’t take it. ‘s too much.”

steve’s hand pressed into your lower back to hold you close against him just before he flipped the two of you over and used his other hand to keep himself from leaning his full body weight onto you. “oh, i know, honey. already takin’ me like such a good little slut,” he cooed against your chest, lapping his tongue over your nipple and softly biting the skin around it. “gonna make it fit inside this pretty cunt.”

his lips trailed up the side of your neck and back to yours, pulling you into a searing kiss while you adjusted. he was giving you these shallow, barely there thrusts and slowly pushing into you more each time. you could feel your eyes stinging at the pain.

the hand no holding him up snaked between your bodies and rubbed deliberate circles over your clit. “shit. so tight and warm. she’s jus’ fuckin’ crying for me, huh?” he mumbled against your mouth, biting at your lower lip.

you could feel the slow slide of hot tears run down your cheek as he bullied his cock further into you with each thrust. it wasn’t as painful now, but the slight pressure and burn was definitely still there. and you felt so incredibly fully. your arms moved to wrap around his neck and pull him further on top of you, his weight grounding you in a way. “holy fuck, stevie,” you whimpered through your cries. “you—you’re so deep.”

he peppered sweet kisses along the side of your face and neck. “i know, baby. i know,” he cooed, rubbing quicker circles so you’d open up for the last few inches of him. “this greedy little pussy’s jus’ suckin’ me back in. taking my cock like a good girl. fuck. y’look so pretty like this, honey. all needy and soft f’me.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words. you would’ve never guessed that steve could be so good with words during sex. after one more slow drag of his hips, you finally felt his skin press flush to yours, now fully seated inside of you. “oh, stevie,” you cried, pushing lightly at his stomach like you were trying to create some room to alleviate the pressure in your stomach. “so full. fuck— ‘s too big.”

“need to stop?” he asked, his eyes wide and cautious as he searched your teary ones. his hand that was planted by your head moved to gently wipe at the ones that escaped.

even though it felt like you were actually being split open, it felt fucking amazing. you shook your head and bit down on your bottom lip. “don’t— don’t wanna stop,” you whispered. “jus’ go slow. please?”

steve flashed you a sweet smile and pulled your lip from between your teeth to lay soft kisses over it. he sat back up on his heels and ran his hands down your torso, feeling the faint bump of skin there. he pressed down on it lightly only to hear a loud mewl from you. “shit, honey. can see my cock inside your fuckin’ stomach,” he cursed, completely focused on the imprint of him.

he grabbed your hand and let your fingers run over the bulge in your stomach, grinning as he watched something akin to pure desire wash over your face. “you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he muttered, picking up your legs and placing them over his shoulders as he leaned back down to kiss you. “my perfect girl.”

his lips were back on yours immediately as he swallowed down your moans. you were a complete wreck. the new angle pushed him even further in a way that felt like heaven without any aching. your nails dug into his firm biceps when he began to slowly pull out and roll his hips back into yours.

his tongue soothed over yours and gently sucked on the muscle like he had all the time in the world. to him, nothing else mattered except you right now. and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure you knew that.

one of your hands snaked up his shoulders as he and into his hair, lightly pulling at the strands to make him shudder. once he was sure you weren’t in any sort of pain anymore, his pace began to quicken slightly.

steve pulled back the slightest bit to look at you, smiling at your fucked out state. he thought you looked like an actual angel right now with you pink cheeks, puffy lips, hair falling around your face perfectly, and your lips parted as moans slipped out. he just wanted to keep you here like this forever. “so beautiful, baby. such a gorgeous girl,” he whispered softly, pecking your lips again like he couldn’t get enough of you.

you felt heat creep up your neck as you let your eyes fall shut. you were sure you’d never felt this good in your life. especially when one of his hands came down to rub at your clit. “holy shit— stevie! i’m so close. please. don’t stop. oh fuck. please don’t stop,” you babbled mindlessly, feeling completely dumb beneath him.

he smiled and laid a sweet kiss to your tense calf beside his head. “yeahh, that’s it. i’ve got you, honey,” he said softly. “let me have it. wanna feel you come around my cock.”

you swore you’d seen stars right then and there. your legs began to shake with one particular thrust against that sensitive spot inside and steve caught on almost instantly. his hips angled forward to keep drilling at that spot, making you cry out as the edges of your vision blurred. “o—oh! i’m coming. fuck— i’m coming, stevie!”

his head tipped back when he felt your cunt spasming around him, greedily sucking him back in with each thrust. “shit! such a good girl for me, baby. mphm. your cunt’s like fuckin’ heaven,” he slurred, completely drunk off of you. “pretty cunt’s squeezing me so tight. oh fuck. gonna milk me dry, honey.”

you could feel hit tears run down the sides of your face with overstimulation. he was hitting all of the right spots like he’d known your body for years. “please! want it so bad,” you cried out. “in—inside me. need to— ah!— need to feel you.”

his hips and rhythm faltered at your words, suddenly making his thrusts erratic and much sharper. your nails dug into his shoulder as he pounded you into the mattress. “ho—holy shit!” he groaned as he pressed his hips tight to yours and let go.

warm ropes of his release filled you up in the most delicious way. he sat up and back enough to let your legs down from his shoulders, the limbs feeling like jelly immediately. he didn’t pull out. instead, he rolled onto his side next to you, letting you do the same so you were facing him. he grabbed your thigh and pulled it over his hip, pressing his cock perfectly into your cervix.

your body immediately began to relax in the embrace of his arms around you. it was like your brain had completely shut off and allowed him to take over for you. his hands rubbed soft, slow laps up and down your back to soothe you as you two laid in silence for some time.

steve was the first to break it. “don’t see him again.”

his voice was quiet but the intensity in it was unmistakable. “what?” you whispered, voice a little more hoarse now as you tilted your head on the pillow and looked up at him.

“don’t go out with that guy again,” he doubled down, his eyes much softer when he looked down at you. he just wanted to kiss you again until you couldn’t breathe. “jus’ stay here with me instead.”

you let out a soft breath of humorless laughter to hide the way his words got your hopes up, assuming he was making some stupid joke. “steve, what are you talking about? you know i don’t like casual.”

his brows furrowed like he was genuinely confused by that. “who said anything about casual?”

now it was your turn to look at him like he was the crazy one. “you only ever do casual,” you replied as if it were obvious.

one of his hands moved to gently wipe a piece of hair from your forehead so he could see your face a little better. “this doesn’t have to be casual,” he said surely, looking between the two of you. “i wanna be with you. and— and not just because of this.” the air in the room shifted immediately. “i haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you since i moved in.”

the loud ringing of the phone on the bedside table broke the silence. and somehow, steve knew who it was immediately. it made his blood boil. “answer it.”

your face scrunched up in confusion. “what? why would i—“ but he was already pulling out of you and sitting up to reach for the phone. you whined at the loss but quickly quieted down when he picked up the phone. you could hear the familiar voice on the other end. steve handed you the receiver. “hello?”

“hey, baby. i just wanted to call and check in on you after tonight,” brad, the man you were out with earlier. “i know it went a little rough, huh?”

steve was shuffling over top of you, pressing quiet kisses to your neck and down towards your chest. your eyes widened at him, silently pleading with him. for what? you weren’t sure. he nodded to the phone, prompting you to reply. “oh, uhm, yea—yeah. it was, uh, it wasn’t the best.”

brad let out a nervous laugh. “yeah, you could say that,” he replied awkwardly. “look, i’m really sorry. i just— i’m not really used to being with women like you.” steve could hear the conversation loud and clear as he kissed over your stomach and laid down comfortably between your legs. he rolled his eyes at the comment and licked a long stripe up your dripping slit. “you’re just so young and… i don’t know. i guess i’m just used to being with women who have a little more— y’know.”

you knew what he meant. and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt your feelings a little bit. but with steve lapping at his own cum dripping from your cunt, you couldn’t find it in yourself to dwell on it. “oh,” you replied breathily, grabbing onto his hair with your free hand. “right. makes sense.”

brad sighed on the other end, giving you enough time to pull the handset away from your face and cover the transmitter so he couldn’t hear you. “stevie, fuck, you— you have to stop,” you whined, moaning when he sucked on your clit. he looked up at you through his messy hair and shot you a wink when he heard the voice calling out to you again.

you brought it back to your ear and began twirling the coiled cord between your fingers to try and distract yourself. “you still there?” he asked.

“mhm,” you hummed, eyes fixated on steve. his were shut now as he devoured your cunt like a starved man. you’d never seen someone enjoy this as much as he was right now.

there was another awkward pause from brad. “well, i was thinking,” he began. “and y’know, with me being pretty busy and all, it wouldn’t be too much of a bother for me if you wanted to go out again.”

your face quickly contorted into one of disgust, as did steve’s. he looked genuinely pissed off now. a new fire ignited in him as he licked and sucked at your cunt with more pressure than you could handle at the moment. his hands hooked around your thighs to pull you even closer, moaning softly into your folds.

a squeal escaped you just before you could slap a hand over your mouth. “baby? you there?” he repeated again.

your hand moved down to shove at steve’s head in a useless attempt to get him to slow down. instead, his tongue pressed into your weeping hole. “yeah, mphm! i’m here. sorry, i just— i stubbed my toe.” you bit down on your lip hard to keep the scream bubbling in your throat at bay. “uhm, so about that— that date. i jus—“

“is everything okay?” he asked bluntly. you could hear him pacing back and forth on the other end.

you really hoped he couldn’t hear the obscene sounds of steve between your thighs. “yeah! yes, you kind of, um, caught me at a bad time,” you lied through clenched teeth, staring down at your roommate. “i was just… mphm— i was working out.”

he seemed to have accepted that answer enough to explain why you’re breathing was so erratic and why you could barely speak. “you home alone? i could come over and make it up to you—“

“no!” you answered a little too quickly, covering your mouth when steve slid two of his fingers inside of you and massaged your gummy walls. “my, uhm— my roommate is home. and about that date,” you trailed off and pulled the phone away for a second to let out a shaky breath as your stomach tensed. “i don’t think it’s— it’s not gonna happen.”

you could hear him scoff on the other line. “what? are you serious? it was just one bad night. i mean— i took you out to dinner, i paid, i took you back to my place. i did everything i was supposed to and—“

if steve wasn’t making you feel unreal right now, you were sure you’d go off on him for being so stupid and arrogant. you couldn’t find it in you to care enough about anything other than your roommate. “look i— hmph! it’s not gonna happen and i really, really need to go.”

you carelessly jammed the phone back into the cradle on your bedside table and ran your fingers through steve’s hair, tugging at his roots when his fingers hit that sensitive spot inside you. “stevie! i’m close— so fuckin’ close!”

he looked up at you at grinned, sucking on your clit and laving his tongue over it with a pressure that made you see stars. “tastes like’ heaven, honey. such a fuckin’ loser to let you go.”

your head tipped back into the pillow as your legs shook, locking around his head when the tight coil snapped in your stomach. his hands held your thighs spread open, fucking you through it so deliciously. “that’s it, sweet girl. soak my fuckin’ hand,” he cooed, kissing along the inside of your thighs to help you come down. “there you go. so goddamn perfect f’me.”

your body was completely destroyed now, laying limp and exhausted in your bed. he slowly pulled his fingers from you and sucked them clean, moaning at the taste of your juices. his chin was glistening with your release which he didn’t seem to mind at all.

steve’s lips ghosted a trail of kisses up your stomach, chest, neck, and back to your lips. his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you in closer to him, throwing the blanket over you in the process. he couldn’t help but smile at your sleepy state. “sooo… no more dates?” he asked playfully, voice barely above a whisper.

you let out a giggle and shifted further into him, resting your head on his chest. “god, you’re such a fool, harrington.”

his lips pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head and held you a little tighter. “as long as i can be your fool.”