#+jealousy

[celiavonhinten]

[sangunary]

- Jealous Boy.

Batboys × Civilian Reader!

SYPNOSIS: Seeing another hero being handsy after saving you.

Characters: Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian.

- Dick Grayson.

Oh boy was he mad yet happy about it. Surprisingly he wasn't surprised that some other hero was actively pinning over you, I mean you're a catch... A catch thrown directly at him and he does not like people who can't understand that.

He doesn't tell the guy that you and him are (almost) a thing, rather he almost find it entertaining watching someone else ramble about you, it's like listening to his own thoughts just he's alot more poetic, according to himself.

Was it mean? Yes. Does he care? a little, it does get annoying when he tries too hard to impress you... As if he himself never done that before...

Dick wasn't overly possessive, especially when you two aren't together (yet), afterall there was nothing to be that jealous about.

He's Nightwing and Dick Grayson, he's handsome, a total catch, charming... he already have a good enough relationship with you as dick and Nightwing. Compared to the other guy who is just a guy... Nothing to worry about.

That was until he saw the same guy saving you from some thug.

It's wrong of him to be sulking when that guy did indeed save you, but that was supposed to be his save... Not that guy or whatever his hero name was.

Dick watched from the corner his eyes glaring at the guy. His right hand was on your waist, he found it ridiculous, and your smile, that was supposed to be his smile not meant for the other hero.

Next time you got in trouble you better bet that Nightwing will be there before you even knew you were in trouble.

Well that next time came surprisingly early.

The thug didn't even have time to threaten you for your valuable, he was on the ground before he could open his mouth.

" You alright? "

Giving you that smile that he totally didn't practice for... look at how smug he is just for beating the other guy(hero) who isn't even supposed to be patrolling near the place. (Yes... he did some research and found out about the other hero's routine... It's still a fair game)

You were beyond alright, the guy didn't even have time to rob you, he was only able to size you up before he drop on the ground.

" I supposed, you can't rely on most heros since they aren't here yet , thank God im here... From now on, you can rely on me... only me "

Dick is itching to mention the other guy... but he mustn't, there was no reason to be jelous of some guy who likes you... not like the guy will ever have a chance with you or anything.

From there on he gives no opportunities for others (especially that guy) to save you, afterall you have him. You might not know but Nightwing is your hero and the public... But specifically yours from that point onwards.

The other guy? He won't give him a chance to get close to you now.

Sometimes it feels like Dick can see the future on how fast he appeared when you're in danger. You need to carry heavy stuff? Nightwing is here. Thugs are about to approach you? What are you talking about... Nightwing took them out, etc etc.

What a man he is when he's jealous and playing the petty game. If the other guy can think he can save you faster than he could? he better think twice because he just created a super human with ultra instinct in saving you... Just because he wanted to prove something that no one even knows is happening except himself...

Bruce was force to help Dick... Well his version of help is just doing his job, i.e when Batman saved you he now tells you that it's behalf of Nightwing, a lie but Dick is not losing the game... that only he participated in.

He expect kisses at times. When you kiss his cheek after he save you he'll make sure to stare right into the other guy's eyes with that smug smile... and act like nothing happened.

his hand's on your waist and making sure that the guy saw you to, inorder to make him understand that whatever he was dreaming about with you, should stay as a dream.

Afterall he's Dick Grayson. There is no competing with him.

- Jason Todd.

To whoever made him jealous... im praying for you on behalf of everyone.

Jason doesn't like it when others tries to do shit he doesn't like. Example being, trying to play hero to the girl he was openly courting.

Jason cared about you deeply, your safety was always first in his life. But when someone used that as an excuse to get close to you? They should be happy he isn't as crazy as he was before...

When he saw the hero hands on your waist he doesn't hesitate... Why should he hesitate when his girl is being grabbed by some dude in a latex and a cheap mask.

" Hands off her. "

His voice was demanding and possessive, his helmet was concealing his pissed off face and his hands were on his guns... He was making sure that the guy knew that he wasn't playing around.

" I just saved her "

The hero bite back, which is an idiotic move.

" Do you want a treat? ya' dog. I said hands off her. Now. "

Jason is scary when hes jealous, he's happy that you're safe but he's not happy about the guy wondering hands on your body. Just because he's a hero and he saved you doesn't mean he can touch you like that.

He knows that the guy was taking advantage of the situation, feeling you with his hands... It's disgusting. He won't tolerate it...

The guy comply at the end, only an idiot would openly fight with Red Hood.

After the hero was forced to leave by Red Hoods men he checked up on you. But before he could leave Jason told him something he didn't hear...

" If I see you touching her or any other women like that, I'll break all your fingers one by one... Until you learn respect and to keep your filthy hands to yourself. "

Jason doesn't play around and everyone knows that. That wasn't a threat that was a fun fact future edition.

He was more than happy to take care of a hero that takes advantage of people, just because he saved them.

When the guy left he made sure to comfort you. Standing infront of you and offering you a gun like it's nothing, I mean it's Red Hood... you can ask for any gun and he'll probably have it.

You're under the protection of Jason meaning his gang members are obligated to protect you from anything. Jason rather protect you himself, having to rely on hero's doesn't work always, it's temporary protection.

The guy doesn't dare to patrol near your location anymore, Jason almost shot some sense into him after he saw him near you... He's a straightforward guy afterall...

Jason doesn't tolerate anything that disturb or threaten you. He came from nothing, have everything and lost everything... Now that he was settled in life for once not even a dust won't fly pass him...

For once in his life he felt alive again, after years of torture he managed to feel the same way as he used to when he was Robin for the first months...

Whoever tried to do shit to you must be the dumbest person cause Jason will handle them by himself, which is worser than hell.

- Tim Drake.

He's uncomfortable, jealous and his hand's were itching to dig some dirt on the guy.

Tim does get jealous easily, probably because he wasn't good at making move or initiating since he is unsure about your feelings for him so everyone is a potential barrier in his journey to get with you.

At first when he heard your name from the guy he was uncomfortable and jealous, he doesn't say anything but everyone knows that Red Robin likes you.

It's obvious for the other hero's, Tim always saved you, prioritize you in recusing missions, blushes when you get abit physical and become extremely sharp around you.

Tim doesn't speak up because, truth be told... He doesn't want to restrict you from meeting someone better but that doesn't mean he isn't jealous at all.

But when he saw the guy being handsy after saving you, he wasn't going to listen to that philosophy he created anymore.

The other guy hand's were on your back, way too low for his liking. It wasn't like you hurt your legs and need support, you were completely fine. you seem uncomfortable as well.

Tim immediately walks towards you two, he wasn't even trying to hide how pissed off he was. Kon was thrilled on the other hand, just extremely entertained and happy to see Tim pissed off at someone.

" You're fine right? "

His attention was on you first, his jealousy was over boiling but he needs to be rational and take care of you first and out his feelings aside.

When you told him yes, his gaze turned sharp upon acknowledging the other guy, which startled him enough to take his hands off you entirely.

Tim gently grab your hand and guide you behind him, his eyes still not leaving the other guy.

" Super-boy, take them to the medic... Don't leave their side until I said so. "

Tim was beyond pissed off, you've never seen him this mad but God was he trying to suppress his expression.

" Gotcha! "

Kon didn't waste time and assist you towards the medic on duty, not without giving Tim the green light to beat the guy on his behalf.

The other hero on the other hand tried leaving, he knew Tim was about to kill him with that expression.

" Stay put. Your behaviour was highly inappropriate... Care to explain? "

As much as he hate to be this kind, he can't just start berating the guy without questions...

The guy stayed put, muttering some excuses about not realising his behaviour and that was it, Tim now has a reason to use his brain for its intended purpose.

" Stay away from her from now. That is, if you still want to hold onto your title as a respected hero "

Tim contemplated about it... He thinks it's too far, but when he realised that the guy felt no remorse and was simply using his title as a way to feel you.

Red Robin is a hero, he could never ruin the guy's life. Tim was just some guy with a company... He wasn't a hero, so he could ruin his life.

Digging into other's business is way too easy, he found some dirt on the guy within a few minutes of searching...

The light of the computer immersed him, every click show's him just exactly who the guy was... Even a rookie could dig enough dirt to threaten him.

After a week of preparation, the guy was wiped out. He wasn't dead exactly, he retired... Saying that he was fed up of saving people and not because a certain person was pulling strings.

- Damian Wayne.

He doesn't fuck around. It's common sense to never messed with people Damian cared about, especially you.

Damian never admitted about liking you to anyone except Dick, seeking for some advice from him and Alfred at times.

But everyone in the hero work who worked alongside him knew that there was something between you and Robin.

It would be a lie tp say that he doesn't treat you better compared to others. Even as Robin and especially as Damian.

It was as if you were specifically protected by Robin, no thugs or criminal wanted to messed with you especially after dealing with the demon son himself.

He's ruthless compared to others, doesn't fuck around, straightforward with his intentions in teaching lessons and his possessiveness towards you was as glaring as the sun.

Not only is Damian protecting you Superboy is involved too ( Jon ). Jon is you and Damian's biggest supporter, he knows about Damian big crush on you and is activity trying his best to be a wingman... Much to Damian's dismay.

When he saw the guy hand's on your waist for a while he doesn't hesitate to approach you two with his usual face, just that his eyes were on fire starting at nothing else but the guy's hands on your waist.

Damian doesn't need to talk, his presence alone was enough to scare the guy but not enough for him to let go.

Damian was the one to yank the guy's hand off you and pulling you towards him, he was much taller than the guy so he was looking down on him.

" What's... your problem? "

The guy still wanting to keep up his image asked trying to sound brave.

" My problem? Is that you can't keep your filthy hands off her. My solution, cutting your hands off "

Damian answered truthfully, lifting his katana from the saya to show that he was not kidding around and actually thinking about cutting the guy's hands for touching you.

Damian doesn't care about anything else now, he was itching to beat some sense or go though with his word.

He won't tolerate buffoons with behaviour problem, the league taught him to protect what he value even if it means bloodshed and thankfully Bruce taught him to hesitate and think... If Bruce didn't taught him that, it'll be a bloody mess by now.

" Let's calm down everyone...! I'll handle him myself "

Thankfully Jon appeared and put himself between the guy and Damian, forcefully pushing Damian's Katana back into the saya.

With a scoff Damian also decided to not go through with his plan. He rather not go through the process of explaining and having to clean his katana again.

Tho he did ask Jon for a favour. The poor guy was hung on the Billboard by Jon for atleast an hour... Before Jon helped him down.

Tho for you it was entertaining more than anything, you didn't knew Damian's identity as Robin and only knew that Robin stood up for you.

Later when you met Damian and not as Robin just as Damian you couldn't help but ramble about what happened.

" Beloved, you shouldn't be so easily impressed... it's embarrassing "

-------------------

Tags - @empire-pw, @sirensswim, @thinkaboutus, @invinciblewaffles.

[sxquoia]

blind to love

sokka x reader (gn!reader [fem. leaning]) [getting together, mild crack, fluff, jealousy, confessions, first kiss] summary: you and sokka are both very affectionate people, and there isn't anything wrong with that. a conversation with aang shifts your perspective, and for some reason, you think avoiding sokka will do wonders for your relationship. spoiler alert: it doesn't. warnings: probably some fem!terms, jealousy, mild arguments, reader avoiding sokka, tame sexual joke(s), maybe ooc (i haven't written for avatar in a LONG while), reader is fucking stupid, oblivious reader, misunderstandings, maybe spelling errors, no use of y/n, second person word count: 7.6k (yo..flip that around....) note: i've always been a sokka girl.. HE'S SO BAD i haven't watched the movie i'm waiting for actual release but oughhh ignore any canon inconsistencies because of that i wrote this in likeee one day i love him i am working on my other fics i swear ALSO i will take requests for avatar...... just make sure to check over the rules okay enjoy baiii

Yours and Sokka’s relationship was platonic.

Very platonic. As platonic as it could possibly get. So platonic, in fact, that you had never even thought of dating him or anything silly like that.

(Well. Maybe that last part was kind of a lie. But it had only been once or twice, back when you were stupid teens trying to figure out how to save the world.)

You, personally, thought that it was obvious.

Apparently, it wasn’t.

“I’m pooped.” Sokka sighs loudly, leaning heavily on your back as he peers over to glance down at Toph, who stood before you, crossing her arms.

“What distinguished vocabulary you possess.” You reply, smiling lightly as you reach up and pat blindly at his arm.

“Thanks. I try.”

“Oh, I can tell.”

“Can you?” “Of course.”

He hums happily. “I appreciate it.”

Toph clears her throat loudly. You turn your attention back to her quickly, an apologetic tone in your voice.

“Sorry, Toph. What were we talking about?”

“Nothing important.” Her eyes narrow slightly as she stares right at you, although not quite at your eyes. “Sokka.”

“Toph. Wonderful to see you, as always.”

“Can’t say the same.” She replies, deadpan. For a moment, Sokka jostles against your back, an offended noise leaving his lips before you lightly jab an elbow into his side. He gets it after a moment.

“Ah!” He perks up, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you quickly. “Ha! I get it! Good one, Toph! Real knee-slapper!”

Toph lets the faintest smirk appear on her face.

“I’m sure we all got it.” She says, leaning back on her heels. “What do you want?”

“Can’t I say hi to my friends?” Sokka tilts his head, his cheek brushing against your ear. “Is that a crime, Toph? Am I going to get arrested?”

“It’s a crime when it’s the two of you.”

“Huh?” You raise an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, nothing.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Everything.”

You turn back to exchange a look with Sokka, who shrugs back at you, just as, if not more, confused.

“Okay.” Both of you say in unison as you look back at her.

“Ugh. Don’t do that. That’s weird.”

“Well, I wasn’t lying when I said I was just stopping by to say hi.” Sokka stretches, taking a step back from you. You miss the warmth that came with him. “Got things to do, people to see, yada yada.”

“I’m sure you do.” Toph responds, raising an eyebrow. “But with all of your impending duties, you just had to come say hello?”

“How could I not? I heard very familiar voices and I couldn’t resist.” Sokka’s hand finds its way to your cheek, pinching it lightly and tugging before letting it go. He knows better than to try that with Toph. He learned the hard way.

“Oh, we know what you can’t resist.” Toph cackles. You don’t get it. You turn to Sokka, a questioning look on your face, but once again, he looks just as clueless.

“Uh…sure.” He smiles, patting your cheek where he’d just pulled.

You laugh softly, swatting away his hand. “Aww, well, we appreciate it.”

“I don’t.” Toph interrupts.

“You definitely do. I can feel it in your bones.” Sokka declares confidently.

“My bones?”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve developed bone bending. I can detect what you truly feel. Of course, I’ve always had this ability. Say goodbye to being used as a lie detector, Toph. I’m the new big deal, and heart rate won’t matter this time. This is all in the bones. You can’t fake bones.”

“Bone bending, huh? Enlighten me.” You grin, shifting your weight onto one leg as you turn to focus your attention on him.

“I’d love to.” Sokka beams back. “Now, this all started way back when—”

“Well, I’m sure you’d love to, but weren’t you just plagued with ‘things to do and people to see’?” Toph cuts in.

Sokka looks thoughtful suddenly, like it had slipped his mind completely. “You’re totally right. Bone bending just gets me so distracted. I’m very passionate about it, you see. It’s kind of my whole thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. Sokka looks utterly delighted as he takes a few more steps backward.

“Alright, see you guys later. Don’t miss me too much.”

“We’ll try not to.” You reply happily. He puts a hand to his lips and loudly blows a kiss to the two of you, spinning on his heel and happily whistling something off-tune.

“I can’t stand you two.” Toph complains as Sokka leaves. You know that her volume is always loud enough for everyone around to hear. Sokka turns his head back, just barely, to stick out his tongue.

“Jealous!” He calls, and then he’s gone. You laugh and wave at his back as he goes.

“What?” You ask as you look back towards Toph, whose expression can be described as nothing but disgusted. “What?”

She scrunches her nose, fanning under it like she’s trying to get rid of a painful odor. “I would say ‘you know what’, but you don’t, which is what makes this worse.”

You blink. Okay. Vague. Thank you, Toph.

“I hate lovebirds.” She continues, walking forward. As she passes you, she hits your arm. In turn, you wrap your other arm around her shoulders and press a kiss to her head.

“Get well soon?” You try as she playfully shoves you off.

“I should be saying that.”

As she goes, she mumbles something about idiot boys and idiot girls that she surpassed in intellectual ability. You didn’t dare to doubt her.

Recently, she’s been doing things like that. Unclear words that could rival proverbs of ancient past and riddles that would make anyone’s head spin. Sickened looks and scoffs and odd comments. And it was only when you and Sokka would interact.

Weird.

You didn’t think there was anything to warrant the behavior, but Toph was a little difficult to understand sometimes, so you didn’t really think much of it.

And then Zuko would flash weird looks when Sokka would wrap an arm around your shoulder and Katara would stare when you leaned against him.

Which was also weird.

Everyone had their own lives, now that you’d all grown up. You weren’t a bunch of (pre-)teens worrying about the fate of the world anymore. You had more normal but tiresome responsibilities, which meant not seeing each other as often.

But the times you were all together, all you would get were funny looks.

And you weren’t stupid. You knew that it was for a reason, but you truly couldn’t understand why.

So, of course, you decided to consult your beloved friend who would never keep you from the truth.

The Avatar himself.

“Aang! Hey, Aang!” You call, waving wildly at the retreating flash of yellow and orange you know and love.

Aang stops in his tracks, turning around with a thousand-watt smile already lighting up his face.

“Gee, you’re excited!” He notes, grabbing your forearms as you slow to a stop in front of him. “What could I have done to deserve that?”

Sometimes, you catch a glimpse of the little boy you’d met all those years ago. It’s the same with Toph. It melts your heart and makes you sad, knowing how quickly time slipped by, how tall and strong and wonderful the kids you knew got.

“I need advice. Help. A talk. Whatever.” You shake your head.

“What’s going on?” Aang’s eyebrows furrow slightly as he glances down at you. “Nothing bad’s happened, right?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that.” You correct, rubbing at your cheek lightly.

The two of you sit down on a nearby bench, your foot tapping against the ground quickly. You slam a hand down on your knee to make it stop. Aang raises an eyebrow.

“Okay. Uh…why is everyone acting funny?”

Aang thinks about it for a moment. “They are? Who’s everyone?”

“Toph. Zuko. Toph. Katara. Toph. Have I mentioned Toph?”

“No, I don’t think you have.”

After a beat, the two of you erupt into giggles. It feels oddly childish for how old you are now, but it feels good to relax.

“Seriously, though.” You clear your throat. “They just keep saying weird things and casting judgmental looks. Have I secretly been declared the enemy of all?”

“Not that I know of?” Aang shrugs, leaning back against the back of the bench. “Do they just…always do it?”

“Always? No, no. It’s…it’s only when Sokka’s around.”

Aang freezes. His eyes widen slightly and his lips pull back into a faint grimace, but you’re too busy letting your words take over to notice.

“And I don’t even get it at all! What could possibly be the reason for all the funny behavior, huh? It’s not like Sokka and I have been acting differently. If anything, I think we’ve been acting the exact same this whole time. As normal as we possibly could be. I haven’t said or done anything out of the ordinary, not that I know of, so whatever warrants this has to be—”

“Okay, okay, okay.” Aang raises his hands, cutting you off. “I think I see the frustration.”

“Do you?” You ask, exasperated. You slump back against the bench.

“Definitely.”

The look on his face looks strained, like he’s trying to hold back an awfully pained expression. It only makes your worries worse.

“What?” You ask desperately. “Don’t beat around the bush like Toph does. I’ll cry.”

“You won’t cry.” Aang says simply. “Uh…where to start…”

That’s a terrible beginning to an explanation. That means there’s a lot to go over and you were in some deep trouble.

You wait not-so-patiently for him to continue.

“Sokka…and…you…” He begins slowly, clasping his hands, “are very…close.”

“...yes.” You nod back just as slowly. “Aren’t we all?”

“Well…yeah. But there are different levels of being close.”

“Sure.” You agree. “Like you and Katara.”

“Right! Like me and Katara.”

“Right. So the problem is…?”

Aang bites the inside of his cheek. “The problem is…that you and Sokka are very close.”

“You said that already!” You complain. “What’s so wrong with that!”

“There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just that we…are…wondering…about…the extent…of your relationship!”

The pauses he includes almost make you want to strangle the words out of him. Instead, you take a deep breath and try to collect your thoughts. The extent of your relationship? There’s only one thing you can come up with to explain that.

“We’re not fucking.”

“I didn’t say you were!” Aang cries, a faint hue of red dusting his cheeks like he wasn’t the one to insinuate that.

“Then what were you saying?”

“I was saying that maybe you and Sokka are a little closer than everyone else is!”

“I…guess?” Your eyebrows knit together. “Not really, though, right?”

“Ehh…” Aang trails off, glancing away.

“What?” You pry, leaning forward. “Say it. I won’t say anything.”

“Ehh…” He repeats, turning his head completely around.

“Aang!” You grab his face and snap it back around. “Stop avoiding the topic!” “I’m just trying to think about how to word this!”

“Just say it straight up! I won’t say anything!” He mumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘you will’ but you ignore it for his actual input instead.

“Let’s see…okay. You’re very…comfortable around Sokka, right?” “I’m comfortable around everyone.” You respond.

“That’s different.”

“No it’s not. I’m the same with everyone. Aren’t I?” You try to think back on it.

“I’d say you’re a bit more affectionate with Sokka.”

“Affectionate how?”

“Well…you know…the basics.”

“Such as…?”

Aang clears his throat. “Uh…you guys hug a lot?”

“I hug everyone. That’s not weird. You hug everyone. Is it weird to hug people, Aang?”

“No!” Aang shakes his head. “Hugging isn’t abnormal. But you kiss him, too.”

“On the cheek. There’s nothing wrong with kissing people on the cheek, or anywhere else.” You cross your arms. “I kiss everyone, too. I kiss you on the cheek. I kiss Katara on the cheek. And Zuko and Toph.”

Aang runs a hand down the side of his face. “Right. You do.”

“I do. So, what’s the problem?”

“It’s just that…you…kiss Sokka on the cheek like I kiss Katara on the cheek.” He snaps his fingers, leaning forward once he’s made the connection.

“Uh…” You close your eyes, picturing the four of you side by side. “But you and Katara are together.”

“Yes…” Aang nods supportively.

“Sokka and I aren’t together.”

“Right…”

“So how would I kiss him that way if we’re not together?”

“Exactly!” Aang claps. “You’re close to him in a way that Katara and I are close, except you aren’t together.”

It takes a moment for you to realize what he’s getting at. Once you do, your entire body seems to heat up.

“Wait. Wait, wait, wait.” You shake your head so hard you might rattle your brain. “So—you’re saying that everyone is acting weird because Sokka and I act like we’re a thing?”

“Basically?”

“But we’re not!”

“You could be?” Aang tries. “I mean, do you want to be with Sokka?”

Loaded question. Your mind shortcircuits, your heart skipping a beat as the idea firmly plants itself in your head. You and Sokka? You and Sokka?

It’s not like it was a completely foreign idea. You see where Aang’s coming from, but also, that’s Sokka. Sokka, who’s been the same with you since the day you met. Sokka, who’s been by your side for years and never said a word about it. Sokka, who you’ve watched get and lose partners over the span of your journey together.

He wasn’t ugly. Quite the opposite, really. You could admire that without having a silly crush on him.

But…but you did like him. Kind of a lot. That didn’t mean it had to be in that way.

Still…you did get a lot happier when he was around. And you were more comfortable with his presence and letting him place a hand on you or an arm around you. You’d let anyone do that, but you suppose that maybe you wouldn’t be as ecstatic and content with it if it had been Katara or Toph instead.

Those were feelings, though. Normal feelings. You think. You’re not quite sure, actually. So what were all the weird looks for then? Did the others find your relationship odd, or did they…

“Honestly…everyone thought you guys were dating.” Aang cuts off your train of thoughts as if reading your mind. “I mean, that’s just what it looks like.”

“For how long?”

“Huh…I don’t know. It’s looked like you’ve been dating for years.”

“Years?” You repeat increduously. It can’t have been that long that the two of you had been…ugh. This was hurting your head. You still hadn’t answered Aang’s question.

I mean, do you want to be with Sokka?

What would that entail, anyway? With what Aang’s saying, nothing would change. Except the presence of actual kisses, and maybe waking up with him, and living together and—

Okay. That got too real too fast. Your face flushes and you turn away slightly. Aang—alert, lovely, and too observant for his (your) own good, Aang—catches on instantly.

“You do!” He cries, overjoyed. “You do want to be with him!”

You shake your head quickly, but he enthusiastically points at your leg. “Look at that speed! You only do that when you’re really nervous!”

True to his word, your leg was bouncing at the speed of light. You slam both of your hands down on your knee to make it stop, your eyes wide. “Not so loud!” You hush him, despite the fact that you were probably being just as loud.

“Sorry, sorry!” He whispers, leaning in to grin at you. “But you do like him!”

“I…maybe?” The roar of emotions in your heart implied a more honest sentiment.

“You do. So…talk to him.”

“I can’t just talk to him.”

“Sure you can! He’d get it.”

“How would you know? He thinks this is all normal.”

“No way he does. Sokka’s not that stupid.”

“Does that mean I was stupid for thinking so?”

“I didn’t say that! I just meant that he’s probably having an epiphany right now, too.”

“Is he?” You raise an eyebrow. “And you would know that how?”

“Katara wanted to talk to him earlier.” He shrugs.

Crap. Okay. So the two of you were being cornered and told exactly what’s going on between you both. Definitely comforting.

“What do I do? Aang, guide me through this, now.” You lean in closer, eyes darting around like Sokka might pop out of any corner.

“Just talk to him. It’s not like he’s a stranger anymore. You’re never afraid to speak your feelings. So…just go for it.”

“That’s not clear enough!” “It doesn’t have to be. Do you want this turning point of your life to be pre-planned and rehearsed?”

“I…guess not.”

“Exactly! It’ll be more authentic and successful if you just lead with your heart and go for it.”

“I can’t just do it now!”

“Then don’t. Sleep on it. Let yourself grasp the lines of your emotions, then ask to see him, and go!”

“What if he hates me for it? What if he really thinks that this was all friendly?”

“He won’t. Trust me.”

“How would you know?”

“You know who knows Sokka the best?”

It doesn’t take a second to reply. “Katara.”

“Exactly. Their sibling bond is really strong. And Katara is completely convinced that he really lo—likes you.” The stutter goes unnoticed.

“Are you sure about this?” You chew on your bottom lip. “What if everything gets messed up?”

“It won’t. I promise. Even if the impossible happens, you and Sokka have been friends too long to let this damage you in any way. It won’t change things.”

“I don’t know. This is pretty big.”

“Bigger than defeating the Fire Lord?”

You crack a smile. “Maybe not.”

“Definitely not.”

A long, deep breath mostly calms down your nerves. You nod slowly, leaning back and looking around.

“Okay. I’m going to…think about this. Sleep on it.”

“Good.” Aang nods back. After a moment, he looks back at you. “I think you guys would be really good together.”

“Really?”

“Really. You’re like two halves of the same person. You’re both better and more complete together.”

“Aww, Aang. You’re so sweet.” You smile, pinching his cheek. He laughs softly and pushes your hand away.

“I’m serious. You’re one of my best friends. You deserve to be happy, and I think Sokka would help with that.”

You might actually cry now. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly. It takes less than a second for Aang to reciprocate, squeezing you so tightly you might lose your breath.

Neither of you say a word. You don’t need to.

After a few seconds of silence, Aang breaks it.

“Also, we’d pretty much basically be siblings if you two got marr—”

“Aang!”

—

You weren’t lying to him when you said that you’d actually think about it.

You did think about it. You slept on it that night and dreamt about it. You ate breakfast the next morning thinking about it. You worked and thought about it. You took a walk and thought about it. You talked to Zuko and thought about it.

In fact, it hadn’t left your mind once.

Because the moment the realization was planted in your brain, you weren’t able to let go at all.

You were lucky to not encounter Sokka for the majority of the day. You might have died if you did.

Now, the problem was that idea carried over into the next day. And the next day. And the next. Until it had been nearly a week since your eye-opening talk with Aang, and you had barely interacted properly with Sokka since.

It was stupid to think that no one would notice. It was kind of obvious.

Really obvious.

Toph and Sokka are sitting together and talking? Great! You’ll sit down next to Toph and let her lay her head on your lap while you let them mostly speak.

Katara and Sokka are walking together? Lovely! You’ll let Katara stand in the middle and act as a barrier while you try to grasp the overwhelming feelings he brings.

Everyone is hanging out after dinner? Fantastic! Zuko can take your weight as you lean against him and try not to fall asleep.

Aang, too smart for his own good, did not allow you to use him as a wall.

He caught you on day six, pulling you aside.

“So…what did we talk about?” Aang asked, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“To talk to him, yeah, yeah. I’m thinking right now, okay? Can’t a person just think?”

“Not like this! You’re not even trying to act normal anymore.”

“Just give me a couple of more days. I’ll get there. Promise.”

You were now closing up on day seven, and you still had no idea what to do.

You wanted to talk to him about it. Of course you did. But the idea of actually having to face him and talk about something so personal felt so…weird. You just didn’t want to have to do it. Not now, at least.

Except you did want to talk to him. You didn’t know how, but you really did want to. You were good at talking, just going with the flow, so why did this mess you up so bad? Ugh.

Night was falling, and you weren’t feeling any more tired than you had a couple of hours ago. You’re smart enough to know when you’re not going to get any sleep. So, obviously, you have to take a nighttime stroll instead to clear your head.

That would help. Walking always helped, even if you drowned in your own thoughts first before letting yourself be pulled out.

You all were staying in a relatively small village in a relatively large house together. Did that make it harder to avoid him? Yes. Did it make it more suspicious? Yes. Which is exactly why you should have gone out on a walk ages ago.

Well, you can’t change the past now.

It’s not too lively outside. Things are dying down, and most people are retreating to their homes after a long day of work. A couple of them greet you with tired smiles as you pass by, which you return with double the energy. Waves and calls of good night’s take up most of your initial excursion, leaving you no room to think until you get to the very edge of the village.

It’s quieter out there. The moon shines down on you, peeking through dark clouds that might bring about rain later. You’re not too sure about the forecast.

As you make your way along the perimeter, you try to gather your thoughts, you really do. They’re just as much of a jumbled mess as they were way back when you first figured out what the two of you truly were. Or, tried to figure out, at least.

What you do know is that you like Sokka. Like like, bordering onto actual love, which is a terrifying thought. How could you have been in love with him for all this time and not know? Scary. You’d like to stick to like like instead, just for now, just so that you don’t implode.

You don’t know if he likes you back. Aang swears on his life that he does. You want to believe him, but doubt always makes its presence known, no matter how much you try to push it down. You can’t force yourself to believe it, but you can try. For now, you’re just going to think about this logically.

He might like you back.

So…how to bring it up? Something tells you that ‘Hey Sokka, I talked with Aang and I realized that I’ve liked you for a while now, you should let me be your girlfriend’ won’t really work.

You could be really sappy about it and have a nice long speech prepared. Or you could go out on a whim and say something simple.

Neither sounds very appealing to you. You want something meaningful, but like Aang said, not forced. You want it to matter.

You don’t even notice the figure standing in front of you until you crash right into him, too focused on staring into nothingness. Apologies are already spilling from your lips.

“No, no, it’s okay.” The man reassures, grabbing your shoulders to stop you from tripping over yourself. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am. Sorry again. I’m totally fine. I really don’t know why I—sorry.” You respond, trying to shove down the embarrassment that comes with nearly knocking over a stranger you definitely should have seen coming.

“No harm done, promise.” He reassures. His hands have not yet left your shoulders, and when he notices that, he quickly drops them like he’s been burned. “You must have been deep in thought, huh?”

You offer a shrug, rubbing your arm. “Yeah, something like that.”

“Love troubles?” He asks. You startle, taking a step back. He laughs and tilts his head. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m not that obvious. I’m not…am I?” You ask desperately, nearly hissing as you lean forward, your voice hushed in fear of someone else nearby overhearing.

The man offers you a comforting grin. “To me, maybe. I’m not too sure about anyone else.”

“So you know about love troubles.”

“Woah, woah, woah. Let’s not go accusing a guy without even asking his name!” The man raises his hands in surrender.

“Ah…you’re right. Sorry. May I have the name of the gentleman who I nearly knocked over?”

“Why, of course. I’m Lee.”

You do not believe that for a second, but Lee was a pretty popular name. You let him off the hook.

“Well, Lee. I suppose we’re both having our own love struggles.”

“Maybe we are.” He offers a one-armed shrug. “I think we’ll get past it.”

“I sure hope we do.”

It’s weird, the concept of mildly opening up to a guy you’ve never seen before and likely never will, but that’s also comforting. He’ll forget all about you at some point, and you him, so you won’t have to worry about gossip spreading. No one will care.

Before you can do something stupid like dump your entire life’s story on this guy, he speaks first.

“I think that you might have a name as well.” Lee asks, shifting his weight as he leans on his leg, a little closer.

“I might.” You joke.

“And that name is…?”

You open your mouth to reply, but when your name is said, it’s not your voice that responds.

It comes with a heavy arm around your shoulders, firmly planted behind your head, completely wrapping around your body. It comes with a warmth you’re very familiar with and a scent that can only be matched to one man you know.

“I’ve seriously been looking for you everywhere. I mean, I nearly had to start checking under everyone’s beds, and I don’t really want to know what I’d find under Zuko’s.”

Sokka.

Okay. Awkward. Lovely. You’re kind of afraid.

Lee looks a bit taken aback, his eyes widening. His gaze meets yours and he mouths ‘love?’ to you, to which you breathe out and nod.

Sokka catches this instantly.

“What was that?” He asks, squinting. “A secret code? That was weird.”

Lee coughs. “Uh…we were just talking.”

“Right.” Sokka nods, stretching out the vowel as he raises an eyebrow and looks between Lee and you under his arm. “Cool. Well, we’ll be going now, alright? Bye.”

He turns you right back around, his arm guiding your body and forcing you to follow after him. You turn your head back to look at Lee, who smiles at you. You look back front, then back at him again, to which he forms a heart with his hands and a thumbs up.

Your cheeks flush pink. Sokka’s free hand plants itself on the top of your head, swiveling it back to face your front.

“Why—are you blushing?” Sokka cuts himself off, sounding absolutely scandalized. He lifts up your face and appears to analyze it, his fingers grasping your jaw.

“No.” You deny pathetically.

“Holy bison, you are.” He shakes his head. “Hold on. What was going on back there? Who even was that? Why were you out so late? Was that your…your secret lover?”

His voice spikes in pitch, just like it would back when you were teens and his voice would crack. This was really embarrassing now.

“That was…not…my ‘secret lover’. I don’t have a ‘secret lover’.” You correct, reluctantly pulling his hand down. “I just went for a walk.”

“Uh-huh. And you just happened to stumble upon a handsome guy down there and spark conversation.”

“That is exactly—a what guy?” You nearly shriek.

“Don’t act innocent. I can see right through your ruse.” Sokka’s arm does not loosen around your shoulders as you continue to walk.

“What ruse?”

“The one where you’re trying to convince me that you weren’t sneaking out to see a guy.”

“I wasn’t doing that.”

“Then what were you doing?”

“Walking.”

“Walking. Right. That didn’t look like walking.”

“Well, it was. Until I accidentally bumped into him.”

“Bumped into him!” His grip on your shoulder tightens. “I guess you stumbled right into his arms, too!”

“That did not happen.” You frown. “Why are you making stuff up?”

“I’m coming to plausible conclusions.”

“You aren’t.”

“I am.”

“You weren’t even there!”

“Exactly! Who knows what else went on before I got there? Did you exchange poetry? Recite haikus to the stars?”

“None of that happened!”

“Of course not. So I’m just supposed to believe that you haven’t been avoiding me and seeing some villager for the past week.”

Before you can try to refute his claims, he shushes you, his finger pressing against your lips.

“And don’t even try to deny the avoiding part. I’m not stupid. You can attempt to cover up seeing him, but you can’t pretend you haven’t been running away from me.”

His finger leaves your lips, and you fall silent. He was right. You were avoiding him, just not for the reason he thinks.

“I…was not…seeing Lee in the village.”

“But you were avoiding me.”

You chew on your bottom lip slowly. “It wasn’t avoiding.”

“It most certainly was.”

“I just wouldn’t call it that.” “I would.” “I wouldn’t.”

“Well, then what would you call it?”

“...taking some time to myself?”

Sokka frowns. “Really? Of course, that doesn’t apply to Katara, or Toph, or Aang, or Zuko. Just me.”

Right. If anything, you had doubled your levels of affection with the rest of your friends. You swallow thickly, trying to find the words.

“Maybe I needed a bit of time from you.”

Why did you say that? Why would you say that? You can’t even try to take it back.

Sokka falls unusually silent. The only sound is the fall of your syncretized footsteps against the soft earth.

“Why?”

You barely hear it. You probably wouldn’t have if you hadn’t been listening for something, anything to leave his lips.

“Nothing important.” You were making some really bad decisions.

“It was important enough to give me up.”

“I didn’t give you up.”

“It sure feels like you did.”

You don’t have a response for that. Sokka sighs.

“Listen.” He starts, his fingers flexing against your shoulder. “I don’t care if you’re seeing…‘Lee’...in the village. That doesn’t matter to me. What—I’m talking right now, wait, you can defend yourself later—what matters to me is that you stopped finding me to find him.”

“That’s not what this is. You keep bringing Lee up, but he’s not the reason—”

“Then what?” Sokka interrupts, albeit not harshly. It’s soft when it shouldn’t be, which is why it stops your words despite the lack of violence in them. It just sounds…defeated.

What do you say now? That you have feelings for him and instead of dealing with them like an adult, you’re acting like a teenager with a crush that will never be reciprocated? That you’re practicing what it’ll feel like if he rejects you?

It’s stupid. You know he won’t do something drastic like lash out or insult you if you say something. You know he’s not like that. You know that you’re both better than that. But your mind just keeps jumping to all of these horrible ideas, and you have no idea what to believe and what not to.

You think that you should start with your heart.

“I talked to Aang a while ago.”

Sokka doesn’t say anything. He nods slowly, like its encouragement to keep going. You do.

“A week ago.” You continue. You know that he knows that’s when this whole thing started. “I wanted to know why Toph was acting so strange that day.”

“Yeah. That was weird.” He replies simply, his mind clearly elsewhere. You don’t know if that’s good or not.

“And…we talked.” You conclude, nodding along like you’d just revealed the secrets of the world.

Sokka waits for you to keep going. When you don’t he looks down at you, his eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s it?” He scoffs. “That doesn’t explain anything! What did you talk about.”

“That’s private information.”

“So why would you tell me that?”

“I don’t know! That’s kind of what led to this whole thing, okay?”

Sokka takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay, let’s start over.”

“Starting over. Got it.”

“You’re avoiding me.” “If that’s the word we have to use.” “It is. Something happened, and you’re avoiding me. Aang and you spoke about something, and you’re avoiding me.”

“...yeah.” “Okay. So what was that ‘something’?”

There was no use trying to beat around it now. You need to man up and spit it out. That’s right. You’re a grown adult. You can face your feelings.

“We…are close, aren’t we?”

Sokka stiffens for a moment, but he nods. “Yeah. I’d say we’re pretty close.”

“More so than normal?”

“Uh…let’s define normal?”

“I don’t know. Like the way I am with…Toph?”

“Toph can’t be used as an example for normal.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, Sokka. Whatever. What I’m trying to say is…is that…Aang let me know that we’re…like him and Katara.”

“We are nothing like those losers.” Sokka puffs up his chest.

“Sokka.” “Sorry. Continue.”

At least you know that he’s not really pissed at you. He wouldn’t joke around if he was. That’s a good sign.

“It means that everyone thinks we’re a thing.”

He stops in his tracks for the first time since your conversation began.

“A thing? Like a couple kind of thing?” He repeats, the disbelief coating his voice clearly.

“Yeah. Like a couple.”

“Huh.” His nose scrunches up. “So…you found that out…and you decided that you couldn’t be seen around me anymore lest Lee find out?”

“No!” You cry, swatting at him. “Stop bringing him up! I don’t even know him!”

“What am I supposed to think?” Sokka bites back.

“You’re supposed to believe me!”

“I’m trying!” “It sure doesn’t seem like it!”

His arm finally drops from your shoulders as he covers his face and groans. “Okay. Fine! You don’t know who Lee is. I believe you. But you avoided me for some reason.”

“I told you the reason.”

“People think we’re a couple. You’re…embarrased, and you decide to stay away from me so that they don’t think that anymore.”

“That’s not it.” “Well, that’s what I’m hearing right now.”

It’s your turn to cover your face and groan. “It’s not that part of it.”

“Then which part?” “I’ll tell you if you stop asking questions.” You uncover your face just in time to catch him zipping his lips.

Is this it? Do you just say it straight up, now?

“I just…needed some time to think about the…extend of our relationship.” You breathe out. “That’s all.”

“So…you wanted to reflect on what we truly were.”

“Yeah.”

“And you came up with…?”

“I…don’t know.” You confess. “I don’t know.”

Sokka exhales slowly. Is that a bad sign? Maybe.

“We’re…friends.” He says.

“We are.” You repeat hollowly.

“Right. So…that’s cleared up, then.”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.” You say before you can even think about it.

Sokka’s breath hitches. He stays silent for a moment. “Yeah. I didn’t think so, either.”

So you were both on the same page there. You agreed that there was more to it than friendship. That’s…good. Hopefully.

“Was it only because you needed to think about what we were?” Sokka asks.

“What?” “You avoiding me. Was it just because of that?”

“I…yeah?”

“So it wasn’t that you…you hated the idea of being with me and had to distance yourself to stop the assumptions?”

“What? No! No, that wasn’t it at all. I just needed to think about it.”

Your outburst takes him by surprise. Once the words register, his raised eyebrows lower into an expression that looks more relieved than anything.

“Okay. Good to know.” He wets his lips. “And…and you’re being honest about that guy—” “How many times do I have to say it?” You groan. “I don’t know him! I bumped into him and we spoke for a little bit. He has his own love troubles to navigate.”

You try to ignore the fact that you called what’s going on between you ‘love troubles’ so blatantly. You know he caught onto it. You know he knows that you know. Neither of you say anything about it.

It was kind of annoying, the way he just kept going back to Lee like he was—

Holy shit.

“Oh.” You say simply, turning to face him completely. “You’re…jealous. You’re jealous.”

“Wha—what?” Sokka splutters, taking a step back, his hands raised as he shakes his head vigorously. “Me? Jealous? Of that guy? No way!”

“You are!” You protest, taking a step forward to make up for the distance that he’s putting between you two. “That’s why you’re so pissy!” “I’m not pissy!” “You so are! I get it! I get it now! You’re so upset because I was with him!” “I’m upset that you’re pretending to not know me anymore!” “It’s doubled because of him!” “So what?” Sokka turns it around suddenly, taking a step forward with a sudden surge of confidence. “Huh? So what if I was upset? I have a right to be! You start avoiding me, and then I go out for a walk to clear my head, and I find you all buddy-buddy with some random guy all alone at night, and what am I supposed to think of that, huh?”

You gape at him, but it’s obvious that he’s not done.

“The only thing I can think is that you’ve found a new guy to replace me or something, either as a friend or—or something more, and I haven’t even been able to have an actual conversation with just you in a week and here you are just all over this guy like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen and—ugh!”

A hand flies up to dig his fingers into his scalp. “Whatever. Whatever. Forget it. It’s stupid.”

His incoherent mumbles and pacing that leads him away from you snap you out of your stupor. “Wait. Wait! Sokka, hold on!”

Sokka stops, slowly turning around to face you.

“It’s…it’s not stupid. It’s not. I’m sorry. I’m the stupid one. I don’t know why I avoided you like that for so long. I should have just been straight up with you and done things like an adult. I’m sorry for making you feel like I was casting you aside or seeing someone else or anything along those lines. Really.”

The two of you are standing face to face, yours angled slightly upwards to meet his eyes. Sokka’s fists clench and unclench. Silence suffocates you until he closes his eyes and breathes out.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize or anything. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions and accusing you without just asking first.”

“I guess I still have some growing up to do.” You scratch the back of your neck sheepishly.

“I think we all do.” Sokka replies. “But that’s the fun of it.”

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes.”

When you fall silent, it’s much less awkward this time. Still, you know that it’s not the end of your conversation.

“So…you were jealous.” You bring up again.

“Are you going to let that go anytime soon?”

“I’ll think about it.” You smile, but that’s not the reason you brought it up. “Why?”

“Why? Maybe because you were talking to a guy I didn’t know. Alone.”

“You called him handsome.”

“He kind of is. Alright, how was I supposed to feel seeing you talking to a handsome guy I don’t know all alone?”

“The others wouldn’t have reacted the same way.”

Sokka huffs. “No. They wouldn’t.”

“It’s different, then.”

“Yeah, it’s different with you. It’s always different with you.”

You stare at him with wide eyes. Sokka meets them for a moment, then grows flustered and turns away.

“I…I do like you, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” He mumbles.

“Like me? Or…like like.”

A quick hesitance. “The second one.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, huh.”

So…Aang was right. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up, but once it does, it becomes a complete mess. Your body performs about a hundred actions at once, including overheating, fidgeting fingers, rapid blinks, and nervous twitches.

“Are you going to say anything, or are you going to leave me hanging?” Sokka asks, his own nervousness concealed under a confident demeanor that you’ve long since been able to see through.

You nod, your lips parting. Here it is. This is your chance to say something, to tell him how you feel, how you want more and how you—

“I love you.”

…

You did not mean to say that. It was true, it always had been, and your heart had known that, which is why it took over instead of your brain. But you were supposed to start off slow and sweet, not jump straight into it.

Before you can even apologize for the way it made both of you freeze, Sokka’s lips parting in shock and yours quivering as if unable to take the recoil of the confession, he moves.

In an instant, his hands fly up to cup both sides of your face, his thumbs resting on your cheeks as he pulls you up to meet him halfway.

His lips are slightly chapped, contributing to a vague rough feeling that’s drowned out by the overall gentleness that comes with the kiss. It’s a simple press of lips to lips, his perfectly slotting in against yours. His hands stay firmly planted on your face, and your hands come up to rest on his chest in turn. You tilt your head slightly, but the moment you make a move, he snaps back.

His eyes are blown wide, a regretful expression on his face that scares you into believing that he’d realized that he didn’t actually like you or something. He backs up, his hands slowly falling from your face. “Crap. Sorry. Was that too soon? That was too soon. Sorry, I should have asked, I—”

You grab him by the collar of his shirt and tug him back down again. His hands shoot up, and then quickly find a place on your waist. In turn, you loop your arms around his neck. It’s not any more rushed than the last one. He’s savoring you with a gentleness you didn’t think you’d ever experience. He doesn’t push hard, just enough to make a imprint that you can’t easily get rid of.

This time, you pull back, making sure to keep your arms around him. His eyes flutter open and he looks at you. Differently. It’s fond, and while he’s looked at you like that before, there’s something so loving in the way his gaze softens that it practically turns you to mush.

“We could have done that a week ago.” He whispers to you.

“Guess we’ll have to make up for missed time.” You respond, reaching up to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment longer than necessary.

“I like the sound of that.” Sokka smiles, dipping down to steal another kiss.

BONUS

“So…were you lying when you said you didn’t care I was out with Lee?” You ask as you walk back to the house, Sokka’s arm wrapped tightly around your side.

“Oh, yeah. I was lying straight through my teeth. I was going to cry and everything.” He grins back, swooping down and pressing a quick kiss to your head as you cross the threshold.

As you turn, you hear something shatter. You jump slightly, your head swiveling to find the source as Sokka pulls you back and his shoulders tense.

“You…you did it!” Aang cries, a shattered glass at his feet. He sounds suspiciously on the verge of tears. “I can’t believe it!”

“You didn’t believe in me?” You tease, relaxing as you rest your head on Sokka’s shoulder.

“Not at all.” Aang jokes back. “But hey, I’m happy for you. Even if nothing’s really changed”

He was right. The only thing different about you guys was that you could kiss him on the lips. Still, it’s not like you’d want it any other way.

“I’m happy, too.” You reply with a soft smile. Sokka beams, grabbing your chin and kissing you again.

You don’t think he’d get bored of that anytime soon.

You wouldn’t, either.

fin.

[chrishme]

Everything Has Changed | Steve Harrington x Reader

summary: steve finally plans to confess his feelings after years of “almosts,” but a guy at a party gets too close to you — and steve snaps. a jealous blow-up turns into a raw confession, a desperate kiss, and a heated moment in the safety of his car.

a/n: my obsession with him is returning in light of the new season. enjoy!

warnings: 18+ smut, mdni, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering (f! receiving), some dirty talk, creampie, slight cursing, some slight angst (if you wanna call it that) establishing a relationship, some fluff at the end, first time publishing smut online so pls tell me if it sucks :)

•·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊˚.ೃ࿐*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*⁀➷⋆·˚ ༘

Steve is jittery from the moment he picks you up.

You notice it immediately. His fingers tapping the steering wheel, fidgeting with his hair, his eyes fixating on anything but you.

You sink back into your seat, a deep knot forming in your stomach.

Because Steve Harrington does not get nervous. Not around you.

He never has, not in all the years you’ve known him, not through any of the absolute insanity you two had gone through together. You’ve seen him covered in bruises, bleeding from scraped knuckles and cuts, half conscious in a Russian base and in the back of a moving car. But, he was always steady with you. Solid. Brave.

So, what on earth could possibly shake him now?

You look out the window, chewing the inside of your cheek.

Your mind spins, captivated in worry. Maybe he’s worried about another creature out there? What if there’s something he hasn’t told you? Maybe something bad happened with the kids—

But no.

That’s not it.

Not with the way he keeps sneaking glances at you, snapping his gaze away likes he’s afraid of being caught.

It’s something else.

Something more. Something you were too afraid to speak into existence. Something you’ve tried not to hope for — not after all these years of almosts, of timing never lining up, of both of you ducking around feelings that felt too fragile to touch. You clear your throat softly, breaking the silence in the air.

“Steve?”

He stiffens— actually stiffens— before forcing a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah? What’s up?”

“You okay?” You ask gently. “You’re acting kind of…I don’t know. Weird.”

He turns his head, eyes finally meeting yours. And then, it’s like everything inside you stutters. It’s not a quick glance. It’s not distracted.

It’s intentional.

He really looks over you, eyes trailing over your face, lingering like he’s memorizing every detail. His breath shallows, fingers still on the wheel. Something soft and raw flickers across his features before he catches himself.

“Sorry,” he mutters, gaze jerking away from yours. He clears his throat, hand moving to his hair nervously. “It’s just…”

His eyes meet yours once again, and you swore the mere sight could make your knees go weak. “You look really pretty tonight.” He says.

Your heart stops. You’re not sure he actually meant to say it out loud.

His face flood with color a second later, ears going pink, shoulder tense. “I mean—not that you don’t always look pretty—I just—I wasn’t…” He breaks off with a sigh, running an anxious hand through his hair. “Forget I even said that.”

You don’t.

You can’t.

As far as you know, Steve Harrington has never been able to look at you like that. Not during monster fights, not when he would vent to you about Nancy, not during all those moments where you almost swore there was something more.

Not until now, at least.

“Thank you.” You try to steady your voice.

He nods once, eyes facing forward, face still a flushed pink. His hand grips the wheel, like it was the only thing keeping him together. You look out your side of the window, hiding a smile in between bitten lips, your face flushed, stomach fluttering with a feeling you can’t describe.

•·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊˚.ೃ࿐*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*⁀➷⋆·˚ ༘

You two don’t speak again until he pulls up to the house.

The party is practilly spilling out onto the lawn—loud music, warm lights, shadows moving on the porch and through windows, People laughing, shouting, stumbling in and out.

Steve turns off the engine, but doesn’t move.

His hands stay on the wheel, eyes fixated straight ahead. It’s like he’s gathering himself—stitching up whatever cracked open in the car moments before.

“Ready?” He asks, turning to you.

You nod, but you’re watching him too closely to miss how tense he is.

He gets out first and comes around to open your door — something he’s done a thousand times, but tonight he’s a little slower, like the movement means something heavier, something more. His hand hovers near your back as you walk up the driveway, almost guiding, almost touching.

Almost.

Inside, the house is chaotic. Warm humid air hits your face—laughter, bass, bodies pressed together. The smell of beer and perfume lingers in the air, overwhelming, but familiar in a Hawkins—small—town kind of way.

Steve stays close behind you, weaving you both through clusters of dancers and loud conversations, offering polite waves and smiles to people calling his name.

But—he keeps glancing at you. Not in the curious way that he normally does—in that protective, focused way he gets before something dangerous happens. You lean into him so he can hear you over the booming music. “You okay?”

He nods, jaw tense. “I’m fine. Just—stay close, okay?”

You snort. “What? You expecting a demogorgan to show up to this party?”

He shoots you a tight look—the kind that would be funny if it didn’t look so serious.

“I’m not kidding,” he mutters. “There’s a lot of weirdos in here.”

You bump your shoulder against his. “Relax. If anything, I could handle myself. You know that.”

He sighs—a heavy, frustrated sound—and guides you towards the kitchen. His hand remains hovered over your back, brushing it every couple steps, his warmth radiating against you.

“Think you can get me a drink?” You grin up at him.

That gets a reaction. He freezes, eyes flicking to yours, worried, conflicted, like he knows he shouldn’t let you out of his sight, but also doesn’t want to seem insane.

Then, he clears his throat, trying to play it casual.

“Uh—yeah. Yeah, I can get us something. You’re gonna stay right here?”

You laugh. “I don’t need a babysitter, Steve.”

He doesn’t look very convinced. But after another beat of hesitation—one more glance—one more swallow—he forces himself to nod, to turn away from you.

It almost feels like he’s walking away from something dangerous.

He disappears into the crowd, weaving between people, and for a moment your chest twists because he looked…scared to leave you. Before you could sit with that thought, a voice appears at your shoulder.

“Hey there.”

You turn. The boy is tall, oddly familiar. Probably from school—some club—some sport—maybe even a class. He smirks, drink in hand. Tipsy, but not sloppy. His eyes roam you too openly, too slowly.

“Wouldn’t expect a pretty girl to be standing here all by herself.”

You start to answer, but he steps in closer, his chest nearly colliding with yours. His eyes darken, staring down at you like you’re a piece of primal prey. The corners of his mouth twitch into a wicked grin. “Lucky me, huh?”

You open your mouth—but then he reaches for your hand. His fingers brush against yours, lingering. You pull back quickly, like it’s instinct. He follows, eyes still trailed on you. “I saw you walk in with Harrington. That guy disappears every time someone cute is near.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, mouth agape. “Excuse me?”

He leans down, and you can smell the cheap beer on his breath. “You’re gorgeous. You don’t need to wait around for…”

“She’s not interested.”

The voice slices through the air like a knife.

Steve stands behind you, two solo cups in his hands, jaw clenched, eyes locked onto him.

Furious doesn’t even begin to cover it.

The guy lifts his brows and looks Steve up and down, sizing him up. “Didn’t realize she was with you.”

“She was waiting for me.” Steve snaps, stepping in between the two of you without a second of hesitation.

The guy scoffs. “Relax, Harrington. We were just talking.”

“Didn’t look like talking,’ Steve says, voice tight, shaking with anger he’s trying— and failing— to keep contained. “Looked like you were trying to put your hands on her.”

The guy shrugs. “She didn’t seem to mind.”

Your breath catches. Steve goes still, his grip tightening on the cups, knuckles turning white. You quickly step between them—one hand on Steve’s chest. You can feel his heart racing beneath your palm, trembling with adrenaline.

“Steve…” You warn under your breath.

But he doesn’t want to hear you. He’s staring the guy down like he’s facing another monster, another thing after you, another threat for him to conquer.

"She's not interested." Steve repeats, voice colder then before. "And don't ever—ever touch her again."

The guy raises his hands in surrender, feet shuffling against the floor as he backs away. "Fine, man. She's all yours."

He saunters off, vanishing into the crowd. You look to Steve, who’s breathing hard, cheeks flushed, eyes dark. You touch his arm gently, and it grounds him, to this moment. This moment of humiliation. He jerks away like your touch had just burnt him.

"We're leaving." He snaps. You watch as he hurries to the front door, slamming both cups in a nearby sink. You have to jog after him, weaving through the crowd, ignoring the looks people throw your way as you follow him into the cold night.

The front door slams shut behind you, muting the music to a dull bass behind you. Everyone outside had vanished, either gone home or retreated back inside. The porch lights flicker overhead, Steve's shadow elongating against the wooden boards. When you reach him he's pacing, hands in his hair, jaw tight. Like he's coming apart at the seams.

"Steve!” You pant, wide eyes looking him over.

"Don't." he cuts you off, voice sharp, breath ragged. "Don't do that."

Your eyes narrow. "Do what?"

"Talk to me like nothing just happened back there!"

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" you snap, stepping toward him. "You just went full on guard dog on that guy for talking to me!"

He whirls, eyes flashing. "He wasn't talking. He had his hands all over you!"

Your breath catches, both from his anger and something else — something hot and unfamiliar twisting low in your stomach.

You throw your hands up, exasperated. "I told you I could handle myself! God, I didn't even want to come here! You were the one to drag me out here in the first place!"

"No," He says sharply, pacing again. "No you don't get it. You don't..." He stops, fist clenching at his sides, words choking him. "You have no idea what tonight was supposed to be."

You blink. "What are you talking about?"

He laughs once — broken, frustrated — and points at the door like it personally offended him. “That party? I didn’t want to go to that stupid thing. I took you here for one reason.”

Your stomach tightens. "What reason, Steve?"

He lifts his gaze to yours, and you watch as the fury melts into something more. Something far more terrifying.

Truth.

"I was going to ask you out."

You stare at him, the words swirling into your stomach like butterflies trying to escape a net. He pushes a hand through his hair again, pacing harder, words tumbling out now without permission. You can barely breathe, barely blink, barely comprehend that the thing you’ve wanted for years is happening. It’s really happening.

"I spent the whole day rehearsing. God, you should’ve heard me — I sounded like an idiot. Dustin was giving me pointers, which was a mistake, and I was nervous as hell but I thought, okay, this is it. This is the night. I’m finally gonna say something.”

You swallow, chest tight, holding onto every word he said like a prayer.

“But then I got there and that guy was already all over you and I just—” His voice breaks. “I lost it.”

You step closer — cautiously, carefully — like approaching something fragile. "You were jealous." You say, realization finally hitting you.

"Yeah. I was. I am."

Your heart stutters, getting stuck in your throat. "Why didn't you just tell me?" you whisper.

Steve raises his head, guilt and longing tangled in his expression. "I didn't think I was allowed too."

You inhale sharply. "Allowed to...what?"

"Want you."

Everything inside you collapses, spills, shatters, reforms — a dizzy rush from the base of your spine to the tips of your fingers. You feel weightless and too heavy at the same time. You can’t breathe. You can’t think.

He continues, words spilling faster now:

“I’m in love with you,” he says, and it sounds like he’s ripping open his chest and handing you what’s inside. “I’ve been in love with you for so long I don’t even remember what it feels like not to be. And every time I think about telling you, something stops me — fear, timing, the damn end of the world — but tonight I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not after seeing him touch you like you were— like you were up for grabs.”

Your vision blurs as heat builds up your throat, practically swallowing your words. "Steve..." You begin, swallowing, mouth dry, speechless.

You can't breathe.

You can't blink.

This can't be real. This can't be happening.

And he’s standing right in front of you, chest rising and falling like he just sprinted, eyes glowing with something big and brutal and long overdue. You try to speak, but words tangle in your throat.

"I'm in love with you too."

He stares at you like he’s hearing a language he never believed he could understand. And then he steps forward — one slow, trembling step — until his chest nearly brushes yours. His hand lifts, fingers barely touching your cheek, hesitant, resilient.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispers, voice cracking, eyes locked on yours with a desperation that steals your breath. “And I swear, I will.”

You stare at him, heart pounding against your ribs. Your hands slide up to his chest, fingers curling into the collar of his jacket. Your skin feels hot, your whole body buzzing, running off adrenaline, off him.

"Don't stop." you breathe — not steady, not composed, but wrecked and wanting.

Something in him snaps.

His breath leaves him in a harsh exhale, his pupils blown wide, his grip tightening on your jaw like he physically can’t hold himself back anymore.

“God,” he whispers, almost like it hurts, “you’re gonna kill me.”

And then he’s kissing you —

Hard. Hungry. Years of swallowed feelings crashing into one explosive, desperate moment. His hands slide from your jaw to the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips move against yours like he’s been waiting a lifetime: deep, claiming, breathlessly intense. You gasp when his mouth leaves yours, the sound that leaves him is guttural, low, practically ruined.

His fingers knot in your hair, gripping onto every piece of you that he can, scared to let go, to let this moment go.

It't in that moment that everything disappears. The porch, the cold, that stupid guy from the party momments ago. Everything disappears except his mouth on yours and the heat surging everywhere you touch.

He breaks away only to drag his lips across your cheek, your jaw, the edge of your throat — slow enough to make you shake, fast enough to make your breath catch. You tilt into him without thinking, chasing his mouth, fingers tugging at his jacket, and he groans — actually groans — against your skin.

“Jesus,” he murmurs, voice low and wrecked, “I’ve wanted this… God, I’ve wanted you…”

He kisses you again, rougher, deeper, like he's trying to make up for every moment he willed himself not to have you, to hold you, to kiss you.

Your back hits the porch railing, his hands on your waist, thumbs pressing into your hips as if he’s anchoring himself — or keeping himself from completely losing control right there on that porch. Your fingers slip beneath the collar of his jacket, brushing the warm skin at the nape of his neck, and Steve’s entire body shudders.

He pulls back just an inch — panting, forehead against yours, eyes dark and blown wide as he stares at your lips like he’s fighting for sanity.

"Car," he says, voice raw and commanding in a way that you've never heard before.

You pant, breathless. "Steve.."

"Car. Now."

•·.·''·.·•*ੈ✩‧₊˚.ೃ࿐*ೃ༄·˚ ༘ˏˋ°•*⁀➷⋆·˚ ༘

The car door slams behind you, the fabric of both of your clothes rubbing against leather seats. You barely have time to breathe before Steve’s weight presses against you, gentle but urgent—the two of you fumbling into the dark interior, hands roaming.

His lips never leave yours.

Not even for a second.

He’s panting into your mouth, frantic and hungry, like every kiss is oxygen and he’s been drowning for years. Your back hits the seat, hands fumbled in his hair, tugging like it’s your lifeline. His hand steadies your face, fingers trailing over your jaw, the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer against him. He pulls back just barely, just enough for the two of you to lock eyes. His breath mingles against your own, eyes blown wide in the dim light.

“Shit…” he whispers, voice shaking. “Is this really happening?”

Your hands clutch his jacket, tugging him closer as if he might vanish. “Yes,” you breathe with a chuckle. “Yes, Steve.”

He lets out a broken laugh, forehead dropping to yours, seconds before his lips find your jaw, leaving wet open mouth kisses along the bone. The touch sends a warm shiver down your spine, and your eyes flutter close and a content sigh leaves your lips.

Steve completely freezes, lips still hovering over your skin. His breath shakes, fingers tensing against your waist like he’s holding himself in place with sheer willpower. Slowly, he lifts his head—eyes wide, pupils blown, breath unsteady.

“Are you sure about this?” He whispers, voice so raw it almost hurts to hear.

It wasn’t doubt. Not hesitant. Just, terrified of hurting you. Terrified of wanting too much.

You cup his jaw with one trembling hand, grounding him. “Yes.”

But he doesn’t move. His throat works around a swallow, and he searches your face with a look so intense it roots you to your seat.

“You sure?” He repeats, softer, like he’s asking for a lifeline. “There’s no coming back after this.”

Your heart squeezes, because he’s right.

There isn’t.

This moment—the heat in his eyes, the weight of his body over yours, his breath mixing with yours in the dark warmth of the car. It’s irreversible. It changes everything you two have ever had. Your voice comes out steadier than your heart beat.

“I don’t want to come back from this,” You say, eyes darkening under his desperate gaze. “I want you, Steve. It’s always been you.”

Those words are enough to drive him over the edge. He reels you back in, lips crashing against yours in a frenzy of hunger, of want. This kiss is different than the others, less careful, more rough. Like every ounce of fear and devotion he’s stored away has bubbled to the surface, drowning in waves. Your body relaxes against his, hands flying back to his hair. You tug softly, small whimpers escaping his lips at the sensation. The car around you suddenly feels too small, too warm, too charged to handle the gravity between the two of you. The windows begin to fog with your breath, his body warm and trembling against yours.

His hands move to the hem of your sweater, fingers lacing between the wool fabric. You pull away quickly, grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head, discarding it somewhere in the shadows of the dark car. His finger graze your bare skin, goosebumps following shortly after. Your breath trembles, and his eyes meet yours, pure lust and love hidden behind them. His eyes scan you over, hands trailing over your bra, over the curves of your breast.

“You’re fucking breathtaking,” he breathes it out like it’s his final breath.

You kiss him again, pulling him into you by his belt. He growls into you, hand moving down your body, stopping at where your skirt stopped on your upper thigh. His fingers cover the area, grazing, kneading the inside of your thigh. You feel as you could burst right then and there. It was too slow, practically agonizing.

You pull away, panting wildly. “Steve, don’t be a tease.”

He chuckles against you. “Patience, baby.”

His hand shifts up slowly in between your thighs, your heat. You shudder, practically falling into him. He’s slow, middle finger circling your clothed wetness. You gasp softly, thighs clenching around his hand.

“Fuck baby,” he whispers out. “So wet for me.”

His hand curls around the hem of your panties, and in one fell swoop he tugs them down your legs. His finger inch closer, entering you at an abnormally slow pace. It’s one finger, then another. You gasp, head thrown back against the car seat, eyes closed tight in pure bliss.

His gaze stays focused on you, watching the pretty expressions fall as he works on you. He can increasingly feel his cock get harder and harder in his pants, begging to break free. His fingers move inside you at a slow pace, the tips of his fingers just edging that sweet spot. You shudder, body shifting in the seat.

“Steve, please…” You whimper.

“What is it baby, hm? Tell me what you want.” He whispers against you, his hand increasing rhythm like he knew what you were about to say.

“Faster, please.” Your voice comes out low, husk against him.

He smirks at your response, and wastes no time. His fingers dig deeper, further, finally hitting that spot, that spot that will indefinitely set you over the edge. Your hips buck up into his fingers, your breath quickening against him. Your fingers clutch at his jacket, knuckles white.

“That’s it,” Steve husks. “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

You whimper as his thumb drops to your clit, rubbing in slow agonizing turns. You gasp as that small burning heat begins to rise in your lower tummy. Steve leans his forehead against yours, and you can feel the huge bulging tent in his pants against your thigh. Your eyes squeeze shut as the pressure builds, turning into flames, heating up in your core. You shudder, orgasm racking over your body. A cry of his name leaves your lips, euphoria spreading throughout your limbs. You come down hard, panting wildly, sweat prickling at your brow. Steve rides out your high with you until you’re practically slumped against the seat, fingers slowly going until they come to a complete stop.

Steve pulls out, fingers soaked and slippery. He holds gaze with you as his fingers enter his mouth, sucking them clean. You moan at the sight, the overwhelming desire to have him inside you flooding your brain like poison. You pull him down against yours, lips hungrily back on yours. He grips you back in, chest flushed against you, member pulsating in his jeans.

“Please—I need…” You gasp out.

“I know, baby. I know.” Steve replies, a wicked grin curving his lips.

His hands fumble to his jacket, shrugging it off his shoulders, discarding it in the dark. He wears a black t-shirt underneath, biceps tightened around the sleeves. You reach the hem of the shirt, pulling it over his head, discarding it as well.

You take in his lean body, chest hairs prompted wildly on his chest. You fingers trace scars, both white and red, some new and some old. A remembrance of all the things the two of you survived. Survived together.

You fumble with his belt, tugging at his jeans. Steve watches you, letting out a dark chuckle. “Someone’s eager.” He teases.

You look up at him through pretty eyelashes, the sight practically makes him melt. “You’re the one who had to do this in the car.” You shove a finger at his chest.

He chuckles once more. “I don’t see you complaining.”

You giggle, pulling his lips back down to yours. He craddles the side of your face, thumbs rubbing over your jawline. Lips still locked, you work at his pants, racking them down to his ankles. He kicks them off, leaving him on his boxers, member stretching the fabric. You run a hand over his length, and he groans into your mouth, bucking his hips forward.

“You’re mine, ya know that?” He whispers out to you. You can’t help but grin, “Yes.”

His boxers slip down his legs, and he discards them. His cock springs free, red and pulsating in all its glory. Your mouth practically waters, and your thighs clench together at the sight. You hike your skirt back up to your waist, spreading your legs wide and open for him. He hovers over you, stroking his cock. He pushes it toward your entrance, sinking in between your silky folds.

“Say it. I need to hear you say it.” Steve suffers out, face leaned in close to you, lips ghosting your ear. You shift, becoming antsy now.

“I’m yours.” You breathe, eyes dark, hooded under his stare.

“Good girl.” He mumbles back. You gasp, feeling the head of his cock slowly enter you. He fills you up, groaning louder with every centimeter that enters you. Your lips tug between your teeth, thighs wrapping around his waist, bringing him closer. He pants against you, cock pulsating against your walls. He stalls for a second, waiting for you to get adjusted to his size. After a moment, he begins to move, slowly, just grazing that sweet spot of yours once more.

Your fingers tug at his shoulder blades, breath heavy in his ear, brushing past the hair against his ears.

“Fuck,” He shudders, rolling his hips into yours. He fills you up all the way, hip bones grazing your ass. You gasp at the feeling, the tip of his cock at that sweet spot. Your head lolls back, bottom lip tucked in between your teeth. “Stevie…” You whimper out.

“You feel so good, baby.” Steve mumbles to you. You moan loudly at his words, almost like it was in agreement. The way your warmness swallowed around him made him clench, orgasm already beginning to rise, tingling throughout his body. He holds out, panting hard, hands squeezing at your thighs, leaving red marks behind. Your toes curl, legs beginning to tremble beneath him. His hips began to snap a little faster, skin slapping against each other as he fucks into you.

Steve’s gruff groans make your stomach flutter, that knot in your stomach beginning to form once more. You shudder, hands coming up to grip at the back of his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his skin. Steve watches you, the way your body is reacting to him, and immediately knows what to do. His thumb presses against your clit, moving in the same pace as his thrusts. You gasp, the added sensation sending you to your second orgasm of the night.

Your lips connect to his in a lusted daze, lazy kisses prepping against his neck. You come hard and quick, hips bucking, legs pressing him closer into you. Steve follows close behind, his thrust becoming slower, sloppier.

“Fuck, fuck!” He grunts out, officially coming undone inside you, ribbons of hot sticky cum coating the inside of your walls. Your eyes never leave his, watching his mouth agape, panting hard, sweat dripping down the side of his temple. You push the wet slick hair from his face, grinning at the sweet sight before you. He collapses on top of you, his sweaty sticky body warm against yours, tangled together.

His forehead leans against yours, neither of you ready to pull apart yet, to come back to reality. You can feel Steve’s slowing heartbeat against your own. He lets out a soft broken laugh, breathless, and in awe—eyes fluttering shut beneath your touch.

“God,” he whispers, catching his breath. “You’re…unbelievable.”

Your chest flutters. “You okay?”

He nods, leaning into you. “Yeah. Yeah, I just…” He opens his eyes, searching yours, voice going quiet. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

He swallows hard, lowering himself beside you on the seat, pulling you gently into his chest. His arms wrap around you automatically, protective and warm, nose brushing against your hair.

You curl into him, letting the rhythms of his heartbeat calm yours. A long moment passes, soft and peaceful, buzzing at the edges of everything that had just occurred. Steve tenses against you, not in fear, but in nervousness. He presses a slow kiss to your temple.

“Hey…” he murmurs, voice low, uncertain.

You tilt your head up, meeting his eyes in the dark. He looks terrified, but hopeful.

And so, so in love.

“I meant everything I said on the porch,” he whispers. “All of it.”

His hand comes up, cupping your cheek gently, thumb brushing against your cheekbone as if you were something fragile he was afraid to ruin.

“I didn’t say those things because of the moment, or because of the heat of everything.” He lets out another shaky breath. “I’ve felt this way for so long it’s…kind of ridiculous.”

Your heart swells at his words, leaning closer into him. He looks down at your lips, then back to your eyes—a quiet question burning there. And then, with the softest, most vulnerable voice you’ve ever heard, he says:

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. I just—I want to ask you now, the way I meant to earlier before everything got screwed up.”

You both share a soft laugh. Steve pauses, almost gathering himself.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Your breath leaves your lips in a small stunned exhale.

He rushes on, flustered. “You don’t have to answer now, or if tonight was too much and you need time…”

You cut him off, taking his face and kissing him abruptly. He melts into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. You pull away, making sure to keep your face close to his. “Yes.” You respond with a smile.

He freezes against you, like he has to replay it in his mind to make sure it’s real.

“Yeah?” He murmurs, voice cracking. “You’re sure?”

You nod, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “I’ve never been more sure.”

He smiles—slow and tender, a little crooked, and it hits you how many times years you’ve waited to see that smile directed at you like this. He leans forward and kisses you—soft, warm, lingering—nothing rushed, nothing desperate, just—full of love.

When he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours, breathing you in.

“My girlfriend,” he murmurs, testing the words like their brand new.

“My boyfriend,” you whisper back, cheeks warm.

He grins—a real bright grin—and pulls you into his arms against yours, holding you like he never plans to let you go. And under the soft hum of the car engine, the two of you just stay there—wrapped up in each other, hearts steadying, breathe evening out, everything outside fading away. It’s in that moment you both realize:

Everything just changed.

And neither of you want to go back.

[underoospeterparker]

hi!! shy reader request for steve!!

i was thinking maybe shy reader who is really insecure about steve being so close with robin and nancy, but tries to push it all down until it bubbles up into an argument with steve 🫣❤️‍🩹

Ugly Little Thing

a/n: Thank you for requesting!!! I got so excited when I saw this one <3 btw I decided to just stick with reader being jealous of Nancy instead of Robin as well because I thought it might be too many dynamics to deal with

Steve harrington x shy!fem!reader, 1.9k words, divider by @cursed-carmine

You have a secret. A festering, ugly little thing that curls tight behind your ribs.

And it's that you're jealous of Nancy Wheeler.

It's a quiet jealousy, one that doesn't slam doors or yell or make scenes. It’s the kind that sits politely in your stomach during movie nights, acid-sour, when Nancy sits just a little too close to Steve.

It’s the kind that makes your throat close when she calls, and Steve’s voice slips into that easy, soft murmur that speaks of years of shared history that you're not a part of.

The secret has roots.

They dig deep, fed by hundreds of small moments. It's the way Nancy can ask him for help with a single, quiet look—research, a ride, a favor for one of the kids—and Steve will just go. No questions, no hesitations.

It's the shared glance across a crowded room that says remember that time? and you’re left blinking, outside the joke.

It’s the way she says his name, just “Steve,” and it carries a weight, a familiarity that makes your own “Steve” feel like you’re borrowing it.

Your breaking point is deceptively small.

It’s Steve’s laugh.

Not the one he gives you—that's a private, husky thing, breathed into the skin of your neck. Not the one he gives Robin or Dustin—that's a bark of a laugh, full of exasperated affection.

It's his Nancy-laugh.

It's a lazy Sunday at the WSQK. The kids are... somewhere. Around, you guess, it's the kind of day where nothing's really happening.

You're sitting on the floor in a patch of sun, fiddling with a loose thread on the rug. Steve's sprawled on the couch behind you, one hand dangling off the side, his fingers brushing your hair every so often.

He’s talking to you. His voice is a low, warm rumble against your head, telling you about his parents’ new, ridiculously small dog and how it tried to fight the vacuum cleaner.

“...And it’s like, this high,” he says, lifting a hand from your shoulder to gesture, his knuckles brushing your cheek. “A puff of angry lint with teeth. You should’ve seen it.”

You laugh. It’s a real laugh, easy and light.

You tilt your head back to look up at him, and he’s already looking down, a soft, smug smile on his face because he made you laugh. For a second, it’s perfect. The sun through the high windows, the quiet, him.

You're a warm, happy puddle.

The bell over the door jingles. Neither of you pull apart. You’re too comfortable.

"Hey," Nancy says. Not to you, really, to Steve. But you offer her a tentative smile anyways, just in case.

"Hey, Nance," Steve says, and his voice doesn’t change, not exactly. But the arm around your shoulders becomes just an arm. The focus that was solely on you diffuses, part of it shifting to her. The sun dims, just a degree.

You start playing with the loose thread of the rug so you don't have to watch them talk.

She leans against the counter, craning her head to look into the the backroom where Mike and the others are playing D&D. "I'm here for the gremlin. Are they done or what?"

Steve shakes his head. "They're in the final showdown. Dustin says the fate of the realm hangs in the balance. Or, you know, until someone's mom calls."

Nancy sighs, a sound of deep, practiced patience. "The realm's been hanging in the balance every Sunday for three years." She glances at Steve. "You owe me five dollars, by the way."

Steve's brow furrows. "For what?"

"The bet. Summer of '85," she says, her voice almost wistful. "You said they'd grow out of it by the time Will started high school. I said they'd still be at it when Mike could drive." She raises an eyebrow. "He got his license last month."

He grins. "Alright, fine. You win. I guess I should've known."

"Should've," she agrees, mirroring his smile. "I remember your exact logic. You said, and I quote, 'Once Will gets a girlfriend, this whole thing falls apart.'"

Steve barks out a laugh. “Oh my god, I did say that.”

“You did,” Nancy confirms, her own smile widening into something conspiratorial. “So. Not only did you lose the bet, your entire theory was fundamentally flawed.” She pauses, her head tilting just a fraction. Her voice is dry, amused “Because, I mean, Steve. Will? Getting a girlfriend?”

And then it happens.

Steve’s laugh.

His Nancy-laugh. The one that makes his whole face light up. You watch it happen in slow motion, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the way his head tilts back just so, the easy, open-mouthed smile that’s completely unguarded.

The sound fills the quiet room, and for those few seconds, you don’t exist. You are a ghost in the sunbeam, watching the living.

The thread snaps in your hands.

The sound is tiny, but it's enough. Steve's laugh dies, and his attention swings back to you. "Everything okay, sweetheart?"

His voice is gentle, concerned. It's the voice he uses for fragile things. For a second, you hate it.

You stand up abruptly, and the arm that was around your shoulders drops. Steve looks confused. "Yeah. Just remembered I told my mom I'd help with dinner."

Before you can even take a full step toward the door, Steve is on his feet. The movement is quick, almost urgent.

"Whoa, hey, hold on," he says, his hand gently catching your wrist. His earlier amusement is gone, replaced by a look of soft, aching concern. "I'll drive you."

His other hand comes up to brush your hair from your face, a gesture that would normally make you melt. Now, it just feels like he's trying to smooth over a crack he doesn't understand. "You sure you're okay? You got real quiet all of a sudden."

You can't look at him. You can't look at Nancy, who you feel watching this unfold with that quiet gaze of hers.

"I'm fine," you murmur quietly. "Just a headache. I'll walk home."

"No way," he insists, his voice firm but gentle. He's already grabbing his keys from the counter, his jacket from the back of the couch. He's in full Steve Harrington Babysitter Mode now, the mode that fixes problems and drives people home.

The mode that's a substitute for understanding.

"C'mon. I'm dropping you off. End of discussion." He throws a glance at Nancy. "See ya, Nance."

"Bye, Steve."

The silence in the car is a thick, heavy blanket. He keeps glancing at you as he drives, his brow furrowed.

"You wanna tell me what's really going on?" he asks softly, after a full minute of quiet. "Did I... did I do something?"

The ugly thing in your chest twists.

“You laughed,” you say, the words so quiet they’re almost swallowed by the rumble of the engine.

He glances over, confusion etching deeper lines on his forehead. “What?”

“You laughed with her.” You finally turn your head from the window to look at him. The streetlights wash over his profile in intervals—light, then shadow, then light again. “You have a different laugh for her.”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. The confusion doesn’t clear. If anything, it deepens. “What, with Nance? ...Sweetheart, it was a joke about a bet."

"It's not about the joke," you whisper, hurt welling up in your chest. "Or the bet. I don't care about that. It was the sound."

You don't even realise you've started crying until you realise Steve's pulled the car over to the curb a block from your house. He turns fully in his seat to face you. “What sound?”

“Your laugh,” you say, your voice breaking. “You have one for me. And one for Robin, and one for Dustin. But the one you have for her… it’s real. It’s the you that existed before I ever showed up. And I can’t ever get to that part of you, because she was there first, and I’m just… I’m just the one who gets what’s left over after you’re done being real with her, and it sucks!"

Steve stares at you. For a long, terrible moment, he says nothing. The confusion on his face slowly melts away, replaced by something so sad it steals your breath.

“Oh, baby,” he breathes, the words full of heartache. “No. No, no, no.”

He reaches out, his hands cradling your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears.

“Okay,” he says, his voice low and a little rough. “Okay, listen. Let’s… let’s talk about this.” He takes a deep breath, but his thumbs keep stroking your cheeks, a gentle, constant motion.

“That laugh,” he starts, his eyes searching yours. “The one you heard back there. You wanna know what that was? That was me being a total dipshit. A clueless idiot. And it’s the sound of Nancy Wheeler being right and me being a thousand percent wrong about something that was right in front of my face the whole time.”

He gives a little, helpless shrug, his eyes never leaving yours. "She gets that laugh. But you... you get the me that's trying not to be dumb anymore. You get the guy who has to think about what he says before he says it, 'cause it matters so much more with you."

Your breath hitches, a little, but he's not done. "The laugh I have for you... it's quieter 'cause I'm holding my breath half the time. 'Cause I still can't believe you're here. With me."

Steve tugs your head closer, just enough so he can press a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm sorry," he murmurs into your hair. "I'm so sorry I made you feel second to a... to a memory of me being a jerk. You're first. You're always first."

He inhales sharply. "I'm yours, okay? You get me. The real me, the one who's terrified of screwing this up with you."

A wet, shaky laugh finally escapes you. "You're not screwing it up."

He pulls back, just enough to look at you. A slow, wobbly smile touches his lips. "Yeah? Good. 'Cause I was gonna have to, like, write you a whole speech or something. I'm not good at speeches."

"You're doing okay," you whisper.

Steve lets out a breath that's half a sigh, half a laugh—his your laugh. "Okay." He brushes a final tear from your cheek. "C'mon. Lemme walk you to your door. Gotta make sure you get inside safe. Rule number one."

He gets out, comes around, and opens your door. His hand finds yours, his fingers lacing through yours automatically, like they were made to fit there. The walk to your porch is quiet, but it's a different quiet. Softer.

At your door, he squeezes your hand. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay? First thing. We'll... I dunno. Get ice cream or something. Something that's just us."

He waits until you're inside, the lock clicking behind you. Through the window, you watch him walk back to his car, his hands shoved in his pockets. He doesn't drive away until your bedroom light flickers on.

You're so focused on the warmth in your chest that you don't even realise that ugly little thing's finally gone.

[v1olent-love]

I loveee boys who get jealous. especially boys who fuck me about it. like yeah, get me on my knees and throatfuck me, make me tell you how much I like it before grabbing a fistful of my hair and being like "I bet --- wouldn't do this to you, now would they? see, they don't even know how to take care of you. I do." and force me to admit you're so much better than them and know how to take care of me better.

-🩺

[y56n11]

A BOYFRIEND?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ Michael Jackson 80s x Female!Reader

Warnings ཆི❤︎ཆྀ: Jealousy, Michael sneaking into reader’s room. Not much else?

Summary ཆི❤︎ཆྀ: After Michael sneaks into your bed, you accidentally rejects him in your sleep by claiming you have a boyfriend. Once a jealous and hurt Michael wakes you for an explanation, you reassures him it was just a dream and ask him to stay.

Tags ཆི❤︎ཆྀ: Fluff, Jealousy, Possessiveness,

The halls of Hayvenhurst were never truly silent. Even at three in the morning. There was the distant, rhythmic ticking of grandfather clocks, the faint rustle of the wind through the valley trees, and the occasional, soft vocalisation from the birds in the backyard.

Inside his private suite, Michael was wide awake. Michael found that sleep was the one thing he couldn’t command. He paced the length of his bedroom. He felt restless, buzzing energy beneath his skin. A deep, gnawing loneliness that fame only seemed to sharpen.

But tonight, the loneliness was tempered by a secret knowledge, you were only a few doors away.

You had been his closest friend for years, the one person who didn’t look at him like a monument. When things got loud, you were the quiet. When the world felt fake, you were the truth. Tonight, after a long evening of watching old Disney movies and eating popcorn on the floor. He had insisted you stay over. The drive back to your apartment was too long, and the hour was too late.

In reality, he just didn’t want you to leave.

He stopped his pacing in front of the door that connected his wing to the guest rooms. His heart gave a strange, fluttering thump against his ribs. Michael was a man of often intense, overwhelming emotions, and right now, that pull toward your room was like gravity. He wanted to talk more. He wanted to hear you laugh. He wanted to feel the simple, human comfort of being around someone who actually knew him.

His fingers trembled slightly at he turned the brass handle. The hallway was dim, lit only by the soft glow of recessed lights. He watched where he stepped, careful not to step on the creaking floorboards.

He lightly pushed your door open an inch, wincing when it creaked.

The room was bathed in the silver-blue light of the California moon, filtering through heavy drapes. He could see the silhouette of your form beneath the thick duvet. The rhythm of your breathing was slow and peaceful that instantly gave him a sense of calm.

He crossed the room, eyes adjusting to the dark. He watched the way your hair was fanned across the white pillowcase beneath your head. The soft curve of your shoulder visible where the blanket had slipped.

Carefully, with precision, he lifted the edge of the duvet. He slid into the bed beside you, the mattress dipping beneath his frame.

“Y/N?” He whispered, he had done this so many times, but he had always asked for permission just to be safe not to cross your boundaries.

You stirred. A small, soft groan escaped your lips. He expected you to realise it was him, and offer that sleepy, lopsided smile that he was dangerously obsessed with.

Instead your hand moved.

With the slow, movements of someone deep in the throes of a dream, you brought your hand up, pressing it firmly against his chest. It wasn’t a violent shove, but it was firm.

“Mmm… no,” you murmured, your voice thick and gravelly with sleep. “You can’t… stop.”

Michael blinked, a small, playful smile forming on his lips. “It’s just me,” he whispered, leaning closer, thinking you were just confused by the darkness.

But your next words hit him like a bucket of ice water, freezing the blood in his veins.

“You can’t do this,” you mumbled, your eyes still tightly shut, your head turning away from him on the pillow. “I… I have a boyfriend. I told you…”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Michael didn’t move, he didn’t even breathe. He felt a sharp, stinging sensation at the back of his throat, the warmth that had filled his chest moments ago evaporated.

A boyfriend?

The words looped in his brain, each repetition louder and harsher than the last. He searched his memory, frantic and desperate. You hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend. Not today. Not last week. Not in the months you had both spent inseparable. You went to dinners with him, sat in a studio for hours with him, you were the one he called at 2am.

How could there be someone else?

Michael pulled away a little, his back becoming as stiff as a board. His eyes wide as he stared at your sleeping form. The jealousy was immediate, a green, jagged thing that clawed at his insides.

Who was he?

He started running through a list of everyone you know. That photographer from vogue? The guy that works at that art gallery you like?

The thought of you with someone else, laughing at their jokes, holding their hand, sleeping in their bed, the thought made Michael’s stomach twist in a knot of pure misery. He felt a sudden, childish urge to wake you up and demand an explanation. He wanted to shake you and ask, why? Why had you kept this a secret?

But Michael was nothing if not controlled. He sat there in the dark, his jaw tight, his eyes shimmering with a mixture of hurt and rising possessiveness. He looked at the door, thinking he should leave. Go back to his room, lock the door, and never come out.

But he couldn’t leave. He was anchored to the spot by a need to know more.

“Who?” He whispered, his voice trembling with a rare edge of sharpness. “Y/N, who is it?”

You shifted again, your brows furrowing in your sleep. You didn’t answer the question. Instead you pulled the blanket tighter around you, retreating further into sleep.

He stayed there for what felt like hours, a silent sentinel of resentment. Every time you let out a soft sigh, a new jab of jealousy stabbed through him. That’s why she was on the phone for so long on Tuesday, he thought to himself. That’s why she didn’t want to stay late on Friday.

He imagined you whispering the same soft words of affection to a faceless man that you usually only reserved for him.

Not able to take it anymore. He reached out and shook your shoulder. “Wake up.”

You gasped, your eyes snapping open. The room was dark, but you could see the silhouette of a figure hovering over you.

“Michael?” You croaked, squinting. “What… what’s wrong?”

“Who is he?” Michael demanded. His voice uncharacteristically sharp.

You blinked rubbing your eyes, trying to process the sight of Michael sitting on the edge of your bed at three in the morning looking like he was about to cry. “Who is who? What happened?”

“A boyfriend?” He snapped. “You just told me. You told me not to because you have a boyfriend?”

You stared at him, completely bewildered. The fog of sleep was still thick in your brain. “I… what? Michael, I don’t have a boyfriend. What are you talking about?”

You sat up, the realisation finally hitting you. You remembered the heavy sensation of a dream. Something about being at a crowded party, someone being too pushy, a faceless stranger trying to grab your arm.

“Michael," you said softly, reaching out for his hand. He flinched slightly but didn't pull away. "I was dreaming. I was literally half asleep. I didn't even know it was you."

Michael stared at you, quietly contemplating. Hesitating before speaking again, “are you sure?”

“Yes,” you insisted, leaning closer so you could see his face. "Michael, look at me. When do I have time for a boyfriend? I’m always with you. If I had a boyfriend, don’t you think you’d be the first person to know? Or, more likely, the person I’d be complaining to about him?"

His expression was a mix of hurt and desperate hope. “You aren’t just saying that because I’m upset?”

"I am 100% sure that I am single, lonely, and currently being interrogated in the middle of the night," you said, a small, sleepy smile tugging at your lips. "It was a dream, Mike. A weird, nonsensical dream where some guy was bothering me. In real life, if you crawl into my bed, I’m not exactly going to complain."

The tension in his shoulders melted away, let out a deep long sigh. He slumped forward, resting his forehead against your shoulder.

“You scared me.” He murmured.

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you.” You teased gently, running your fingers through the soft curls at the nape of his neck.

He let out a weak, sheepish laugh. “I don’t like secrets. Especially not from you.”

“No secrets, I promise.” You said. You felt him relax completely, his weight leaning more heavily against you. “Since you’ve already ruined my sleep and accused me of leading a double life, the least you can do is stay.”

Michael lifted his head, his eyes searching yours. “You want me to stay?”

As an answer to his question, you lay back down, pulling the duvet up, and opened your arms in an invitation. Michael didn’t hesitate. He slid back under the covers, laying beside you he tucked his head under your chin, his breathing finally evening into a slow steady rhythm.

"I don't have a boyfriend, Michael," you whispered one last time reassuring him.

"Good," he mumbled, his voice thick with returning sleep. "Because he wouldn't know how to take care of you anyway."

You smiled, closing your eyes and pulling him closer. Outside, the owls hooted in the trees, but inside the room, everything was finally still.

Tag list: @darkgreengrl