Summary: They don't call him Joe 'Keeps making jokes' Keery for nothing
The moment you stepped out of the car, you felt the noise hit you all at once.
It was louder than you expected. Cameras clicking, people shouting names, flashes lighting up the carpet so quickly that you barely had time to blink between them. You had been fine on the drive over, or at least you had convinced yourself you were fine, sitting beside Joe with your hand tucked into his and your knee bouncing beneath the hem of your outfit.
Now, standing in front of a wall of photographers with dozens of people calling for you both to look their way, you could feel your confidence slipping.
Joe noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
His hand found the small of your back before you could even say anything, warm and steady, grounding you without making it obvious. He leaned closer, his smile still fixed for the cameras, and murmured, “For the record, I also think this is weird. Grown adults yelling at us to turn left like we’re confused Sims.”
A laugh slipped out of you before you could stop it.
Joe’s grin widened, pleased with himself. “There she is.”
You glanced up at him, trying to hide how grateful you were, but he already knew. He always knew. His hand stayed firm against your back as he guided you a step forward, careful not to rush you, careful not to let the crowd swallow you whole.
“Joe! Over here!”
“Y/N, this way!”
“Joe, can we get one together?”
Your shoulders tensed at the sound of your name being shouted from every direction. Joe must have felt it, because he shifted a little closer, his body angled slightly in front of yours, not enough to block you completely, but enough to make you feel sheltered.
He turned his head towards you again. “Do you reckon if I trip dramatically, they’ll stop taking photos of you and start asking if I need medical assistance?”
You pressed your lips together, trying not to smile too obviously. “Please don’t.”
“I’m just saying, I’m willing to commit to the bit.”
“You are not falling on a red carpet for me.”
“I would absolutely fall on a red carpet for you,” he said seriously, then paused. “Maybe not face first. I have limits.”
This time, you laughed properly, and the photographers noticed.
“Beautiful! Hold that!”
Joe looked smug. “See? I’m a professional.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Your idiot,” he said, squeezing your waist gently.
The comment was quiet, meant only for you, but the way he looked at you was impossible to miss. Soft. Proud. Protective in a way that made your chest ache.
As you moved further down the carpet, an interviewer waved the two of you over. You felt your nerves return the second a microphone was pointed in your direction. Joe sensed that too. He always seemed to catch the smallest changes in you, the way your fingers curled into your palm or your smile became a little too fixed.
Before the interviewer could ask anything, Joe leaned towards the microphone and said, “Just so everyone knows, she’s carrying this entire evening. I’m mostly here for moral support and snacks.”
The interviewer laughed. “You two look amazing tonight.”
Joe looked at you instead of answering straight away. “Yeah, she does.”
Your face warmed, and you nudged him lightly with your elbow. “You’re meant to say thank you.”
“Thank you,” he said, still looking at you. “But I stand by what I said.”
The interviewer smiled, clearly picking up on the way Joe kept checking on you between questions. “You seem very calm together.”
Joe laughed under his breath. “That’s because one of us is actually cool, and the other one is me pretending I know what I’m doing.”
You shook your head, but you were smiling now. A real smile. The tightness in your chest had started to ease, replaced by the comfort of Joe standing beside you, making himself a shield without ever making you feel small.
When the interviewer asked you a question, Joe stayed quiet, but his thumb brushed gently against your side. A tiny reminder that he was there. That you did not have to rush. That you were doing fine.
You answered, your voice a little shaky at first, but stronger by the end. Joe watched you with that soft, proud expression again, the one that made it hard to remember anyone else was around.
When you finished, he leaned in and whispered, “That was very hot of you.”
“Joe,” you hissed, trying not to laugh with the microphone still nearby.
“What? I’m supporting you.”
“You’re embarrassing me.”
“Lovingly.”
The interviewer laughed again, and somewhere nearby, cameras flashed faster. You could already imagine the clips online later. Joe Keery making Y/N laugh on the red carpet. Joe Keery unable to stop looking at Y/N. Joe Keery being protective as Y/N gets nervous.
And maybe people were noticing.
Maybe they could see the way he kept his hand on your back, the way he gently moved you away from the louder photographers when they started calling too much, the way he answered quickly whenever someone tried to talk over you, giving you space to breathe.
But for once, you did not mind being noticed.
Because Joe made the whole thing feel less terrifying.
As you reached the end of the carpet, you let out a breath you had not realised you were holding. Joe looked down at you.
“You okay?”
You nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”
His face softened. “You did so good.”
“You kept making jokes.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, slipping his hand into yours as you stepped away from the flashing lights, “you looked nervous.”
“I was nervous.”
“I know.” His voice went quieter. “That’s why I wasn’t going to let you stand there feeling alone.”
Your heart squeezed.
For a moment, the noise of the carpet faded behind you. There was only Joe, his fingers linked with yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, his smile gentler now that no one was shouting for it.
“You’re very protective, you know,” you said.
He shrugged, trying to play it off, but the tips of his ears turned pink. “Only because you’re you.”
You smiled up at him. “That makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense in my head.”
You laughed, and Joe’s expression softened all over again, like that had been the whole point. Like he would make a fool of himself in front of a hundred cameras if it meant getting you to breathe a little easier.
Then he leaned closer, his voice low and warm beside your ear.
“Come on. Let’s go inside before I actually have to fake an injury.”
𖦹 gator was turning into everything his father told him not to be. soft. but he couldn’t help it when thunderstorms rolled in and you were afraid.
warnings: mention of physical abuse (not from gator). established relationship
wc: 2.7k
۶ৎ wanted to write this cus i miss gator ugh THANK YOU SO MUCH for 500 followers! love you guys <3 reqs open!
you think rainy days in stark county were your favorite. it was always cold, comforting, and it steered your mind off from work when you cozy in your own shared area- smiling at the thought of staying home with gator when it got cloudy.
it was the quiet that made your heart settle. at home with him, it was always there but not, regardless if it rained. he loved you so hardly that even quietness reminded you of how much you meant to him.
soft kisses when you passed him in the house. arms wrapped around you for even a second. your eyes meeting his across the room. his light kiss to your forehead when you stir awake.
it was all there and it quickly reminded you that life was something to look forward too. your life was rocky, and so was his. but it all came together into this one beautiful piece and resulted in the two of you. together. there.
to be fair, gator couldn’t get enough of you. you were a woman that loved him for him, no bullshit, no strings. you knew he liked being chosen, and that’s what your heart knew it wanted. he always wanted you there, to hear your voice that broke his walls down and allowed him to not look around for danger.
nights like these only made him love you closer.
heavy raindrops pattered against the window of your home. the home you worked with gator to earn, a safe space just for you two and no one else- it always smelled like a mix of his wood cologne and your vanilla candles.
it was his and yours. thats what it would always be.
your back was firmly pressed against his chest, the two of you laying on the couch with the tv quietly on, your mind relaxed. his fingertips were just under the waistband of your shorts, his warmth tingling your skin.
it was a lazy afternoon. you made dinner, his favorite, and the two of you went to cuddle on the couch right after. with kisses in between, always, because gator thought that it was priority.
you could feel his breath softly against the side of your face when you settled closer. your legs were tangled with his and in this moment, it felt like something meant to be.
like every moment in your life earned up to this.
with your so very devoted boyfriend who held you tighter everytime you readjusted. and he touched you like you were a ghost, like you could vanish any second- because he wouldn’t know how to navigate through life without you.
his eyes trained to the tv.
“this show is stupid.” he mumbles with his eyes squinting at the love show.
“it’s romantic.” you giggle.
“eh.” he says. “people watch this crap?”
his thumb started to trail just above your underwear. he always did that, like habit, to prove himself you were there. it never meant anything further than that- just to stabilize him and ground his heart.
“you can’t be saying that when you take pictures of us kissing.” you say. “that’s like what their doing.”
he huffs but you could hear his smile, “that’s just for us though. gotta capture my sweet girl.”
you smile and look back at the screen.
“it’s nice to see strangers fall in love.”
“you watch the weirdest shit, i swear baby. why see all that when you got this right here?” he gently squeezes your cheek.
you curl yourself more inward into him, a pink hue seeping onto your cheeks, eyes gleaming. he saw your ears turn pink and he chuckled, placing a soft kiss to them.
“…i love you so much.” he whispers against your ear, sweet and honest, “drives me damn crazy.”
you turned slightly and gazed at him.
“i love you too gate.”
he smiled at that. it affected him the same way, no matter how many times you said it, because it was proof to him that you were honest.
your fingers lightly trail over his arms, over the very moles that you woke up to seeing every morning. the ones that made your heart flip.
gator was affectionate openly. he liked that the town, the officers, saw how serious he was about his girl. it was almost in a possessive way- with his hands tight around you and his eyes sharp, but you never pretended that you didn’t enjoy it.
you were gators. and life was working out.
but open moments like this, the vulnerable and quiet ones, was when he truly showed himself. he didn’t put on a show for anyone and his guard wasn’t up all the time. his shoulders stopped tensing. he was the one with tired eyes and soft words, his hands clingy onto you because touch just wasn’t something he was used to. he made you feel loved. and you did the same.
he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head before slowly getting up.
“ice cream.” he hums before padding to the kitchen, revealing his toned back and his boxers.
you watch him for a moment, his side profile portrayed with content, before looking back at the screen.
it was calm for a moment, the sound of the tv making your eyelids feel heavy and your body sink into the spot where gator was. suddenly a light white flash struck throughout the whole house from the windows and it made your heart jump.
“oh shit!” you hear gator chuckle from the kitchen but it didn’t compute to you.
because immediately after, a loud boom and rumble blasted from outside. it was striking and it happened so quick. the way it sounded, like a snap, so unexpected and helpless- it made you jump on instinct.
before you could take a deep breath, another one struck. and then another, like a wave that wouldn’t let you go.
you pulled the blanket over your lap and curled into a ball- fingers and head starting to shake everytime it turned loud.
your eyes were on the ground and in between your legs, trying to muffle the noise- when you heard gators quick footsteps over to you.
“bunny.” he says quietly and sits next to you. he didn’t even have the ice cream and that’s when you knew he realized what truly happened.
“hey, cmon. lemme see your face.” he says in such a soothing whisper that it deepened the tears swelling in your eyes. “it’s okay, just me.”
you turn your head, cheek smushed to your knee, eyes meeting his.
his shoulders immediately dropped in sadness, a frown lingering on his face when he saw your red eyes.
“oh bun.” he sighs, pushes your hair away and tugs you into his arms.
“your okay, it’s okay.” he whispers. “cmere.”
and with the soft kiss to your forehead, you broke down. his lips stayed there, continued light pecks, as your body shook into his. tears stained into his skin and he didn’t bother. he never did.
his hand splayed right under your shirt, above your breast, and gently squeezed. “baby, breathe.. you can do it. your heart is goin’ too fast.”
he was so very patient. it almost made you guilty.
because as much as he experienced similar abuse from a father, he was tough and was in the process of looking past it. it was still hard for you, and it took you a while to open up to him and feel vulnerable. staying strong for him was always hard.
“g-gator.” your voice cracks.
“i know. nothin’s gonna happen to you, promise.”
moments like these, when the memories flooded back, is when you truly saw the side of gator that belonged only in the house. he truly was a man without any judgement, especially for you, and you knew it. you could break down, be yourself, act stupid- and he’d still look up at you like you were life’s purpose. it only made you cry even more.
because his gentle touch, his soft words, was so unlikely in your life. it was always loud, hard physical contact, hands hidden behind your back but shaking.
now that you’ve been with gator for almost a year, he knew how to act in these moments.
he learned what comforted you, what made you feel a little lighter, and what not to do if you were close to snapping. he never ever considered it a chore, or a burden, but you apologized everytime.
“i’m.. god. i-im sorry.” you hiccup, head slowly leaning back to nudge your nose to his chin.
he shakes his head.
“don’t do that.” he whispers. “no sorry’s, okay? i’ve told you this before, nothin’ to be sorry bout.”
he consoled but it was never laced with frustration. conveniently, the thunder stopped and he looked around the house, his grip never faltering.
“see? it’s gone, baby. just the rain- you like the rain.”
you could tell he was trying to encourage you and it shattered your heart.
he leans down and kisses the bridge of your nose. but your frown was still there, tears still trailing down. his eyebrows furrowed in sadness once again, and it was almost like he knew what you were thinking.
“please don’t be sorry, bunny. it’s totally okay for ya to react like that. hell, that happens to me too.” he says.
“over stupid thunder?” you sniff.
he shakes his head.
“it’s not stupid.. it’s loud, and scary, and totally surprising.” his fingers trail in your hair, “it’s so unfair you get reminded of that.”
“i’m so tired of thinking about it.” you whisper. “about him.”
“i know baby.” his hand trails over your arm, tugging you closer. “but you’re not alone, kay? you’re not.”
“and it doesn’t define you, not one bit. ya got so much ahead of you, bunny, and i wanna be there every second. m’ so proud of you- my strong girl.”
he whispers that in between soft kisses to your ear and you felt a lump in your throat. he seemed to take away the clouded thoughts in your mind so quickly, and you were fathomed by how quick he did it.
your finger brushed over his knuckles and he let you, kissing the side of your head that went back to bury itself in between your knees again.
“hey.” he whispers. “i wanna see you.”
it was patient but you knew he wasn’t gonna let down, your stomach feeling empty with guilt. you look at him again. and you saw the frown that was still there. so you curled yourself into his body again, nestling closer until his back rested against the couch and held you as you curled into a ball on his lap.
“you’re the strongest girl i know.” he starts to whisper, “every day i wake up and i can’t even wrap my head ‘round how i gotcha. and m’ so fuckin lucky for you, bunny.”
you blink and you didn’t even know what to say, even if he’s said things like this in the past. your forehead brushes his chin and you decide to stay there. safe and guarded in his arms.
“gator?”
“hm?”
“thank you.” you say so quietly it almost got stuck in your throat. you felt like crying all over again.
his cheeks lightened and he titled his head down to meet yours, meeting his lips to yours in response. it was slow, and his lips felt so cushioned against you, so stable that it seemed impossible to move away.
the way he was with you would send the town straight into their graves. the gator who’s heart was cold ever since he was a child, the boy who you “watched out for”, was now kissing you deeper into the couch with a feather light touch on your cheek, smiling so softly against you.
and you loved every second of if.
because in the end, gator loved being needed. he loved seeing you melt into his arms every day after work, mumbling how much you missed him. that feeling settled and stayed deep in his heart, and it portrayed in moments like these.
you slowly pull away with your nose nudged to his.
“i don’t know what i’d do without you.” you whisper with a small frown, “you’ve helped me so much, gator. through everything.”
“…m’ just there for you.”
“it’s more than that.”
he takes a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“it’s easy cus i love ya.” he hums, “you know m’ not normal for this.”
“well, you’re doing perfect.”
you smile and so does he.
he smiled because he knew this is what he was meant for his whole life, and it’s been hidden away. loving someone and being loved, being his true self around you. you could just see it in the way he looked at you. you leaned down and kissed him, he kissed you, and it repeated all over again.
like routine, like home.
the noise of rain eventually settled quietly on the window and so did the lingering tears on your cheeks.
you curled back into his arms, your hands sliding up his warm chest- fingers grazing the hair splayed onto it. you smiled and stared, leaning to kiss his collarbone. his arm scooped you higher up from your butt and you straddled him, forehead pressed to his.
“how ya feeling?” he whispers, fluttering his eyelashes up at you.
“better.” you hum, hugging around his neck, the tv still faintly playing.
he slowly pulled his head back and rests it against the couch, getting a full view of you on his lap. it always had your cheeks pink when you saw his pupils dialated, and his lips slightly parted with a small smile forming.
“i know i’ve said it but i can’t believe your mine.” he says.
your stomach flutters.
“…course i’d be yours.” you respond, “you know me better than anyone.”
he nods and his fingers lightly trace over your thighs and under your shorts, getting his hand firm and warm on your skin.
“i just.. i really love you, bun.” he says quieter this time, scared. “don’t wanna lose ya.”
you frown and lean closer to him, connecting your lips to his in a silent promise. he immediately melted and you could feel his body untense, his creased eyebrows now resting with peacefulness.
“you’re never losing me.” you whisper, “what you did just a few minutes ago? i could’ve never done that on my own, cus i’m still scared. and i know i wanna stay. with you, in our home.”
he blinks at that and nods, his lips a fine line as he processes that this was so very real. that he had a women right in his lap whose heart was so big for him, who needed his love after everyone else didn’t want it.
he cups the back of your head and brings you to his lips.
“my sweet girl.” he whispers against you, his tone laced with admiration for who you were today, even after everything.
the tv continued to play episode after episode, but you two didn’t bother giving it any attention. his back layed on the couch and you were sprawled above him, his hands gently resting under your shorts and over your butt.
the rain picked back up again like it always did, and it immediately made your eyes feel heavy. you felt his rough fingers trail on your scalp, gently scratching it and tracing it. the gesture put you to sleep, your lips parting over his chest and his pressing to your forehead.
because no matter what happened in his life, it would always lead back to this.
he wasted so much of his life denying that love was something rare, and it only came out for the good people. he felt nothing like good.
but he realized that all this waiting and ignoring resulted in where he was right now, in his own home with his own girl- fufilling the promises of the world that he never thought would come.
he watched you for a few moments as you fell asleep, touching the cold goosebumps that trailed along your back, seeing the way your cheeks still stayed pink.
gator quickly drifted off right after you, his arms tight around your body and his guard completely down, like how it was supposed to be.
this was your life now. and it was his. with constant support and a type of softness that felt special between you two. right in this moment of the comfort of your own house, falling asleep to the sound of rain and the tv.
𖦹 gator was turning into everything his father told him not to be. soft. but he couldn’t help it when thunderstorms rolled in and you were afraid.
warnings: mention of physical abuse (not from gator). established relationship
wc: 2.7k
۶ৎ wanted to write this cus i miss gator ugh THANK YOU SO MUCH for 500 followers! love you guys <3 reqs open!
you think rainy days in stark county were your favorite. it was always cold, comforting, and it steered your mind off from work when you cozy in your own shared area- smiling at the thought of staying home with gator when it got cloudy.
it was the quiet that made your heart settle. at home with him, it was always there but not, regardless if it rained. he loved you so hardly that even quietness reminded you of how much you meant to him.
soft kisses when you passed him in the house. arms wrapped around you for even a second. your eyes meeting his across the room. his light kiss to your forehead when you stir awake.
it was all there and it quickly reminded you that life was something to look forward too. your life was rocky, and so was his. but it all came together into this one beautiful piece and resulted in the two of you. together. there.
to be fair, gator couldn’t get enough of you. you were a woman that loved him for him, no bullshit, no strings. you knew he liked being chosen, and that’s what your heart knew it wanted. he always wanted you there, to hear your voice that broke his walls down and allowed him to not look around for danger.
nights like these only made him love you closer.
heavy raindrops pattered against the window of your home. the home you worked with gator to earn, a safe space just for you two and no one else- it always smelled like a mix of his wood cologne and your vanilla candles.
it was his and yours. thats what it would always be.
your back was firmly pressed against his chest, the two of you laying on the couch with the tv quietly on, your mind relaxed. his fingertips were just under the waistband of your shorts, his warmth tingling your skin.
it was a lazy afternoon. you made dinner, his favorite, and the two of you went to cuddle on the couch right after. with kisses in between, always, because gator thought that it was priority.
you could feel his breath softly against the side of your face when you settled closer. your legs were tangled with his and in this moment, it felt like something meant to be.
like every moment in your life earned up to this.
with your so very devoted boyfriend who held you tighter everytime you readjusted. and he touched you like you were a ghost, like you could vanish any second- because he wouldn’t know how to navigate through life without you.
his eyes trained to the tv.
“this show is stupid.” he mumbles with his eyes squinting at the love show.
“it’s romantic.” you giggle.
“eh.” he says. “people watch this crap?”
his thumb started to trail just above your underwear. he always did that, like habit, to prove himself you were there. it never meant anything further than that- just to stabilize him and ground his heart.
“you can’t be saying that when you take pictures of us kissing.” you say. “that’s like what their doing.”
he huffs but you could hear his smile, “that’s just for us though. gotta capture my sweet girl.”
you smile and look back at the screen.
“it’s nice to see strangers fall in love.”
“you watch the weirdest shit, i swear baby. why see all that when you got this right here?” he gently squeezes your cheek.
you curl yourself more inward into him, a pink hue seeping onto your cheeks, eyes gleaming. he saw your ears turn pink and he chuckled, placing a soft kiss to them.
“…i love you so much.” he whispers against your ear, sweet and honest, “drives me damn crazy.”
you turned slightly and gazed at him.
“i love you too gate.”
he smiled at that. it affected him the same way, no matter how many times you said it, because it was proof to him that you were honest.
your fingers lightly trail over his arms, over the very moles that you woke up to seeing every morning. the ones that made your heart flip.
gator was affectionate openly. he liked that the town, the officers, saw how serious he was about his girl. it was almost in a possessive way- with his hands tight around you and his eyes sharp, but you never pretended that you didn’t enjoy it.
you were gators. and life was working out.
but open moments like this, the vulnerable and quiet ones, was when he truly showed himself. he didn’t put on a show for anyone and his guard wasn’t up all the time. his shoulders stopped tensing. he was the one with tired eyes and soft words, his hands clingy onto you because touch just wasn’t something he was used to. he made you feel loved. and you did the same.
he pressed a soft kiss to the back of your head before slowly getting up.
“ice cream.” he hums before padding to the kitchen, revealing his toned back and his boxers.
you watch him for a moment, his side profile portrayed with content, before looking back at the screen.
it was calm for a moment, the sound of the tv making your eyelids feel heavy and your body sink into the spot where gator was. suddenly a light white flash struck throughout the whole house from the windows and it made your heart jump.
“oh shit!” you hear gator chuckle from the kitchen but it didn’t compute to you.
because immediately after, a loud boom and rumble blasted from outside. it was striking and it happened so quick. the way it sounded, like a snap, so unexpected and helpless- it made you jump on instinct.
before you could take a deep breath, another one struck. and then another, like a wave that wouldn’t let you go.
you pulled the blanket over your lap and curled into a ball- fingers and head starting to shake everytime it turned loud.
your eyes were on the ground and in between your legs, trying to muffle the noise- when you heard gators quick footsteps over to you.
“bunny.” he says quietly and sits next to you. he didn’t even have the ice cream and that’s when you knew he realized what truly happened.
“hey, cmon. lemme see your face.” he says in such a soothing whisper that it deepened the tears swelling in your eyes. “it’s okay, just me.”
you turn your head, cheek smushed to your knee, eyes meeting his.
his shoulders immediately dropped in sadness, a frown lingering on his face when he saw your red eyes.
“oh bun.” he sighs, pushes your hair away and tugs you into his arms.
“your okay, it’s okay.” he whispers. “cmere.”
and with the soft kiss to your forehead, you broke down. his lips stayed there, continued light pecks, as your body shook into his. tears stained into his skin and he didn’t bother. he never did.
his hand splayed right under your shirt, above your breast, and gently squeezed. “baby, breathe.. you can do it. your heart is goin’ too fast.”
he was so very patient. it almost made you guilty.
because as much as he experienced similar abuse from a father, he was tough and was in the process of looking past it. it was still hard for you, and it took you a while to open up to him and feel vulnerable. staying strong for him was always hard.
“g-gator.” your voice cracks.
“i know. nothin’s gonna happen to you, promise.”
moments like these, when the memories flooded back, is when you truly saw the side of gator that belonged only in the house. he truly was a man without any judgement, especially for you, and you knew it. you could break down, be yourself, act stupid- and he’d still look up at you like you were life’s purpose. it only made you cry even more.
because his gentle touch, his soft words, was so unlikely in your life. it was always loud, hard physical contact, hands hidden behind your back but shaking.
now that you’ve been with gator for almost a year, he knew how to act in these moments.
he learned what comforted you, what made you feel a little lighter, and what not to do if you were close to snapping. he never ever considered it a chore, or a burden, but you apologized everytime.
“i’m.. god. i-im sorry.” you hiccup, head slowly leaning back to nudge your nose to his chin.
he shakes his head.
“don’t do that.” he whispers. “no sorry’s, okay? i’ve told you this before, nothin’ to be sorry bout.”
he consoled but it was never laced with frustration. conveniently, the thunder stopped and he looked around the house, his grip never faltering.
“see? it’s gone, baby. just the rain- you like the rain.”
you could tell he was trying to encourage you and it shattered your heart.
he leans down and kisses the bridge of your nose. but your frown was still there, tears still trailing down. his eyebrows furrowed in sadness once again, and it was almost like he knew what you were thinking.
“please don’t be sorry, bunny. it’s totally okay for ya to react like that. hell, that happens to me too.” he says.
“over stupid thunder?” you sniff.
he shakes his head.
“it’s not stupid.. it’s loud, and scary, and totally surprising.” his fingers trail in your hair, “it’s so unfair you get reminded of that.”
“i’m so tired of thinking about it.” you whisper. “about him.”
“i know baby.” his hand trails over your arm, tugging you closer. “but you’re not alone, kay? you’re not.”
“and it doesn’t define you, not one bit. ya got so much ahead of you, bunny, and i wanna be there every second. m’ so proud of you- my strong girl.”
he whispers that in between soft kisses to your ear and you felt a lump in your throat. he seemed to take away the clouded thoughts in your mind so quickly, and you were fathomed by how quick he did it.
your finger brushed over his knuckles and he let you, kissing the side of your head that went back to bury itself in between your knees again.
“hey.” he whispers. “i wanna see you.”
it was patient but you knew he wasn’t gonna let down, your stomach feeling empty with guilt. you look at him again. and you saw the frown that was still there. so you curled yourself into his body again, nestling closer until his back rested against the couch and held you as you curled into a ball on his lap.
“you’re the strongest girl i know.” he starts to whisper, “every day i wake up and i can’t even wrap my head ‘round how i gotcha. and m’ so fuckin lucky for you, bunny.”
you blink and you didn’t even know what to say, even if he’s said things like this in the past. your forehead brushes his chin and you decide to stay there. safe and guarded in his arms.
“gator?”
“hm?”
“thank you.” you say so quietly it almost got stuck in your throat. you felt like crying all over again.
his cheeks lightened and he titled his head down to meet yours, meeting his lips to yours in response. it was slow, and his lips felt so cushioned against you, so stable that it seemed impossible to move away.
the way he was with you would send the town straight into their graves. the gator who’s heart was cold ever since he was a child, the boy who you “watched out for”, was now kissing you deeper into the couch with a feather light touch on your cheek, smiling so softly against you.
and you loved every second of if.
because in the end, gator loved being needed. he loved seeing you melt into his arms every day after work, mumbling how much you missed him. that feeling settled and stayed deep in his heart, and it portrayed in moments like these.
you slowly pull away with your nose nudged to his.
“i don’t know what i’d do without you.” you whisper with a small frown, “you’ve helped me so much, gator. through everything.”
“…m’ just there for you.”
“it’s more than that.”
he takes a deep breath he didn’t know he was holding.
“it’s easy cus i love ya.” he hums, “you know m’ not normal for this.”
“well, you’re doing perfect.”
you smile and so does he.
he smiled because he knew this is what he was meant for his whole life, and it’s been hidden away. loving someone and being loved, being his true self around you. you could just see it in the way he looked at you. you leaned down and kissed him, he kissed you, and it repeated all over again.
like routine, like home.
the noise of rain eventually settled quietly on the window and so did the lingering tears on your cheeks.
you curled back into his arms, your hands sliding up his warm chest- fingers grazing the hair splayed onto it. you smiled and stared, leaning to kiss his collarbone. his arm scooped you higher up from your butt and you straddled him, forehead pressed to his.
“how ya feeling?” he whispers, fluttering his eyelashes up at you.
“better.” you hum, hugging around his neck, the tv still faintly playing.
he slowly pulled his head back and rests it against the couch, getting a full view of you on his lap. it always had your cheeks pink when you saw his pupils dialated, and his lips slightly parted with a small smile forming.
“i know i’ve said it but i can’t believe your mine.” he says.
your stomach flutters.
“…course i’d be yours.” you respond, “you know me better than anyone.”
he nods and his fingers lightly trace over your thighs and under your shorts, getting his hand firm and warm on your skin.
“i just.. i really love you, bun.” he says quieter this time, scared. “don’t wanna lose ya.”
you frown and lean closer to him, connecting your lips to his in a silent promise. he immediately melted and you could feel his body untense, his creased eyebrows now resting with peacefulness.
“you’re never losing me.” you whisper, “what you did just a few minutes ago? i could’ve never done that on my own, cus i’m still scared. and i know i wanna stay. with you, in our home.”
he blinks at that and nods, his lips a fine line as he processes that this was so very real. that he had a women right in his lap whose heart was so big for him, who needed his love after everyone else didn’t want it.
he cups the back of your head and brings you to his lips.
“my sweet girl.” he whispers against you, his tone laced with admiration for who you were today, even after everything.
the tv continued to play episode after episode, but you two didn’t bother giving it any attention. his back layed on the couch and you were sprawled above him, his hands gently resting under your shorts and over your butt.
the rain picked back up again like it always did, and it immediately made your eyes feel heavy. you felt his rough fingers trail on your scalp, gently scratching it and tracing it. the gesture put you to sleep, your lips parting over his chest and his pressing to your forehead.
because no matter what happened in his life, it would always lead back to this.
he wasted so much of his life denying that love was something rare, and it only came out for the good people. he felt nothing like good.
but he realized that all this waiting and ignoring resulted in where he was right now, in his own home with his own girl- fufilling the promises of the world that he never thought would come.
he watched you for a few moments as you fell asleep, touching the cold goosebumps that trailed along your back, seeing the way your cheeks still stayed pink.
gator quickly drifted off right after you, his arms tight around your body and his guard completely down, like how it was supposed to be.
this was your life now. and it was his. with constant support and a type of softness that felt special between you two. right in this moment of the comfort of your own house, falling asleep to the sound of rain and the tv.
crossing lines pt.2 - best friend!steve harrington
pairing: best friend!steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: steve can’t stand your dumbass boyfriend so he takes matters into his own hands.
warnings: smut with plot, mentions of cheating, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, reader has a vagina, kitchen sex, not proofread.
note: HAPPY PRIDE MONTH EVERYONE 🤍🤍🤍
part 1 | part 2
don’t repost or translate my work.
“tyler?”
his name barely leaves your mouth before the entire atmosphere shifts.
your boyfriend’s eyes snap to you immediately, confusion flickering across his face for half a second before irritation settles back in.
but then he really looks at you and suddenly, he goes still. completely still.
his gaze drags slowly over your face, narrowing slightly, and your stomach drops because you already know what he’s seeing.
the flushed cheeks, your messy hair, your swollen lips.
and then his eyes flick to steve, and god, he looks just as bad.
hair completely messed up from your hands, breathing still uneven, lips red like he’d just been kissing someone.
like he’d just been kissing you.
the silence stretches for one horrible second too long. then tyler lets out this short laugh, except there’s nothing funny about it.
“wow...”
“tyler, what are you-” your chest tightens painfully.
“no.” he holds a hand up immediately, eyes still locked on your face. “no, wait a second.”
steve’s shoulders tense beside the door.
you can practically feel the anger rolling off him already.
but tyler keeps staring at you, specifically at your mouth.
and the longer he looks, the uglier his expression gets.
“are you serious right now?” he asks quietly.
you open your mouth but nothing comes out. because what can you even say at this point?
tyler notices that immediately too. his jaw tightens hard.
“wow.” he repeats, quieter this time. “we have a bad argument and stop talking for like one week and this is what happens?”
“it’s not-” you start before he cuts you off.
“don’t.” his voice sharpens instantly, getting closer to you. “don’t lie to me right now.”
steve steps in before you can answer.
“alright tyler, watch your tone.”
tyler’s head snaps toward him so fast it almost makes you flinch. “excuse me?”
“you heard me.” steve says coldly.
and there it is, that immediate tension between them. that thing that’s always existed every single time they’re in the same room together.
tyler’s always hated how close you and steve are.
and steve’s always hated the way tyler treats you.
but now? now there’s proof. at least for tyler.
he laughs again, but this time it sounds genuinely angry.
“this shit is unbelievable.” he points between you two. “seriously? him?”
“tyler let’s just talk first-” you whisper.
“no, i wanna hear this.” his eyes go back to you immediately. “i wanna hear you explain why your best friend opens the door looking like that, and you’re standing behind him looking like you just got done making out.”
your face burns.
steve’s jaw clenches so hard you can see the muscle tick. “that’s enough, tyler.”
“stay out of it.”
“not happening.”
tyler scoffs. “of course not. captain fucking harrington to the rescue, right?”
“tyler, stop…” you say quickly, panic rising in your chest. “please. let’s talk in private.”
but now both of them are too worked up.
steve takes one step forward instinctively, putting himself slightly between you and tyler without even realizing it.
“you really don’t even try to hide it, huh?” tyler asks slowly.
“hide what?” steve snaps.
“the fact that you’ve been waiting for this.”
silence.
steve freezes only for half a second but it’s enough, because tyler catches it immediately and suddenly the anger on his face shifts into something worse. something almost bitter.
“holy shit…” he laughs quietly. “you have.”
“please-”
“how long?” he asks, eyes darting between both of you. “huh? how long has this been going on?”
“it hasn’t, ty.” you say immediately.
“bullshit.”
“i’m serious!”
“then why does he look at you like that?” tyler asks.
the room goes dead silent.
your breath catches.
tyler says it so fast. so honestly. like he’s noticed it for longer than either of you realized.
you glance at steve automatically.
big mistake.
the second your eyes meet everything becomes obvious, all over again.
the tension.
the guilt.
the feelings sitting way too close to the surface now.
tyler notices the look. his expression crumples for the briefest second before anger covers it again.
“oh my god,” he mutters. “i was so fucking stupid for trusting you. you’re in love with him.”
“tyler, stop-”
“are you?”
you can’t answer.
that silence destroys him.
“wow.” his voice cracks slightly around the word.
in the middle of the tension, steve’s world stopped as soon as you didn’t answer tyler’s question. you were in love with him. and suddenly some of the anger leaves his face too, replaced by guilt. real guilt. because despite everything, despite how much he loved you, he never actually wanted to hurt you. or even tyler, really.
he just wanted you.
tyler shakes his head slowly, laughing again like he can’t believe this is happening.
“you know what’s crazy?” he says quietly. “i used to think i was insane.”
nobody says anything.
his eyes stay on you.
“every time i brought him up, you defended him.” he points at steve without looking away from you. “every single time.”
your throat tightens.
“and every time we fought, where’d you go?” he asks. “him. always.”
steve looks away briefly at that, because he knows it’s true.
“i thought i was just jealous.” tyler continues bitterly. “but i’m not crazy, am i?”
more silence.
“god, you kissed him fast.”
“tyler, you don’t know that.” you whisper sharply.
“what?” he snaps. “am i wrong?”
steve steps forward immediately. “okay, that’s enough.”
“or what?”
“or you leave.”
“you are in her house telling me to leave?” tyler stares at him in disbelief.
“yeah.” steve says coldly. “because you have no place to talk and you’re upsetting her.”
his eyes flick between both of you again before settling on you and suddenly he looks tired.
“did you even feel bad?” he asks quietly.
the question hits like a punch because the answer is horrible.
you do feel bad. but not bad enough to regret kissing steve.
that realization makes you feel even worse.
your silence says everything.
tyler looks at you for a long second, then nods slowly like he understands. like he hates that he understands.
“right.” tyler says quietly.
steve glances back at you immediately, concern flashing across his face at how overwhelmed you suddenly look.
“you are literally exactly the kind of guy i thought you were.” tyler turns to steve.
“and what kind is that?” steve says coldly.
“the guy waiting around for someone else’s girlfriend.”
“okay.” steve takes a step forward instantly.
“steve, don’t.” you warn quickly.
but tyler’s already spiraling now. he points at you suddenly.
“and you.” he laughs again, completely disbelieving. “you make me sick.”
your stomach twists.
“i didn’t mean for this to happen, tyler.”
“bullshit.”
“tyler-”
“you expect me to believe this just magically happened tonight?” he asks loudly. “look at you two.”
you probably look exactly like what just happened.
your lipstick’s ruined.
and the tension between you and steve is still practically visible in the room.
tyler notices everything and it’s making him angrier by the second.
“fucking hell.” he mutters, dragging his hands over his face. “i knew it. i fucking knew it.”
“knew what?” you snap suddenly, frustration finally boiling over too.
“that he wanted you!”
“and you know what?” your voice shakes but still raises. “maybe i liked having somebody around who actually acted like they gave a shit about me!”
the room goes dead silent.
tyler stares at you.
steve looks at you too now, his expression softening instantly despite the disaster unfolding around him.
“there it is,” he says quietly, chuckling sarcastically. “look at him.”
you wish he’d stop saying things out loud, because every time he does, it makes everything more real.
“he looks at you like you hung the fucking moon.” tyler says, voice dripping with frustration. “and you, you eat that shit up.”
“please, tyler…” your head starts to spin.
“no, seriously, this is pathetic.”
steve steps forward again. “don’t call her pathetic.”
“i wasn’t talking about her.” tyler shoots back instantly. “i’m talking about you.”
steve goes still.
tyler laughs harshly.
“you think this means something?” he asks him. “you think you won because she kissed you?”
“nobody’s trying to win anything.”
“please.” tyler rolls his eyes. “you’ve been circling her like a fucking vulture since day one.”
that one actually pisses steve off.
“careful.”
“or what?” tyler steps closer too now. “you gonna hit me? weren’t you the one who got beaten up by jonathan byers?”
“stop acting like you ever treated her right enough to claim territory here.” steve snaps.
tyler’s entire expression changes.
“claim territory?” he repeats slowly.
“that’s not what i-” steve immediately realizes that came out wrong.
“no, no, say it again.” tyler says, laughing angrily now. “go ahead.”
but he’s locked onto steve now. ego bruised beyond repair.
“you can have her.” tyler says.
your face falls instantly. “excuse me?”
“yeah.” he gestures toward you carelessly, anger making him cruel now. “if she folds this easily for her guy best friend, then maybe she was never worth keeping in the first place.”
his words hit like a slap.
silence crashes through the room.
steve moves before you even process it. “watch your fucking mouth. get the fuck out, man.” his voice is terrifyingly cold now.
tyler scoffs. “this is her house, man. don’t get to boss me around.”
“get out.” you say now.
tyler laughs in disbelief. “wow. look at you.”
he points between both of you again.
“this is gonna be so funny in like three months.”
your stomach twists. “what?”
“when you realize this whole thing is built on sneaking around and emotional cheating and whatever the hell this was.” he gestures wildly. “and he realizes you’re not some perfect little dream girl.”
“stop, leave.” you whisper.
but tyler keeps going.
because he’s angry.
embarrassed.
his ego is hurt.
and he wants to hurt you back now.
“you know what your problem is, babe?” he says. “you like attention. always have. and little king steve over here does exactly that, every single fucking time.”
steve immediately steps between you both.
“okay, you heard her, go.”
“there he is!” tyler laughs loudly. “god, this is embarrassing for you, man.”
steve’s jaw clenches hard. “you’re pushing it. leave.”
“you really think he’s different?” tyler asks you suddenly, eyes locking onto yours around steve’s shoulder. “he’s obsessed with you right now because he couldn’t have you.”
your throat tightens painfully.
“but eventually?” tyler shrugs mockingly. “you’ll just become another girl he got bored of.”
steve looks genuinely furious. hurt too, weirdly enough. but he’s holding back for you, he knows that what tyler saw is already enough.
“you don’t know a damn thing about me.” he says coldly. “and you clearly don’t know a thing about the kind of girl she is.”
“i know your type.”
“and i know yours.” steve fires back. “guys who make girls feel hard to love until they finally run to somebody who doesn’t.”
tyler stares at him.
then at you.
and suddenly he laughs again, except this time it’s quieter. meaner.
“wow.” he shakes his head slowly. “you deserve each other. really.”
your chest aches instantly. somehow that embarrasses you more than yelling would’ve. the disgust in his voice. the judgment, like you and steve are some cliché waiting to implode.
tyler backs toward the door slowly still staring at both of you.
“have fun with this.” he says bitterly.
then his eyes lock onto yours one final time.
and the last thing he says is quiet enough to hurt the most.
“just remember you destroyed a whole relationship for a guy who was waiting around for his turn.”
you physically freeze.
he nods once slowly like that was exactly what he wanted. then he walks out.
the door slams behind him so hard the walls shake slightly.
either way you know that your relationship with tyler was over long before you and steve kissed.
the silence after the door slams is horrible. thick and ringing.
you just stand there staring at the door, heart pounding so hard it almost hurts, tyler’s last words still echoing around your head.
waiting around for his turn.
your stomach twists violently.
suddenly everything feels disgusting. the kiss, the tension, your feelings. all of it.
you wrap your arms around yourself tighter like it’ll somehow hold you together, breathing unevenly while humiliation crawls hot beneath your skin.
behind you, steve is quiet for a second.
then softly. “hey.”
his voice is careful now. he already knows you’re seconds away from falling apart.
you close your eyes briefly because hearing him right now only makes everything worse.
you can still feel his lips on yours.
and tyler’s words keep replaying over them like poison.
waiting around for his turn.
you hear steve take one small step closer. hesitant this time. which almost never happens with you. but now he’s careful like he doesn’t know if he’s still allowed to.
“baby...” he says softly.
your chest tightens painfully. “don’t, steve.”
your tone comes out sharper than you mean it to.
steve immediately stops moving.
you stare hard at the floor, blinking rapidly because tears are starting to burn behind your eyes and you absolutely refuse to cry right now.
“don’t what?” he asks quietly.
you laugh once under your breath.
except it sounds awful.
“don’t call me that right now.”
steve goes still. completely still.
and immediately guilt crashes into you for that too.
because his face, jesus...
“yeah... okay.” he says softly after a second.
no attitude. no defensiveness. just immediate understanding.
which somehow makes you feel even worse.
you shake your head hard, frustrated tears finally slipping down your cheeks.
“this is so messed up.”
“it´s not-”
“no!” you spin around suddenly, emotions spilling over too fast now. “you heard what he said!”
steve’s expression tightens immediately. “yeah, and he was being an asshole.”
“but he’s not completely wrong!”
the second the words leave your mouth, steve freezes.
silence crashes between you both instantly.
that one hurt him. his eyes watch you up and down.
you see it happen.
his jaw tightens slightly.
his eyes flick away for half a second before returning to you carefully.
“you think i was waiting around?” he asks quietly.
and suddenly you realize what you just implied.
waiting around for his turn.
your anger disappears instantly, replaced by horror.
“steve, i didn´t mean it like that.”
“no, it’s okay.” he nods once quickly, even though it clearly isn’t. “i get it.”
“that’s not what i meant.”
“you’re upset.” he says.
his voice stays soft. he’s still trying to take care of you while looking visibly hurt himself. “i know you didn’t mean it like that.”
but you did, a little.
not truly.
not fairly.
but enough for it to sting.
you drag your hands over your face roughly, completely overwhelmed now.
“i’m sorry.” you whisper shakily. “i’m sorry.”
steve’s entire expression softens immediately.
“hey,” he says quietly. “look at me.”
he takes another careful step closer this time.
slow enough to give you room to stop him.
you don’t want to, because your chest feels too heavy and your face is burning and suddenly you feel like the worst person alive.
but eventually your eyes lift to his.
and steve just melts. completely melts the second he sees you crying.
“oh, baby.” he murmurs the nickname softly, completly ignoring your request earlier.
there’s no hesitation in his voice anymore, just concern.
he reaches toward you instinctively before stopping himself halfway.
asking silently this time.
your throat tightens painfully at that.
“i didn’t mean that.” you whisper quickly. “i swear i didn’t.”
steve nods immediately. “i know.”
“no, i really-”
“i know.” he repeats softer.
his eyes don’t leave yours, completely patient.
“you’re overwhelmed right now.”
another tear slips down your cheek. you wipe at it angrily.
“i just feel horrible.”
steve’s face softens so much it almost hurts to look at him. “c’mere.”
his voice is quiet.
you shake your head automatically, not because you don’t want him. because you want him too much.
“baby,” he says again softly. “please.”
your breath catches. you look down at the floor again, shoulders trembling slightly, and after a second, very slowly, you nod.
that’s all it takes.
steve crosses the room immediately, careful but fast, like he’s been restraining himself this entire time. his arms wrap around you gently at first, giving you room to pull away, but the second you melt against him with this shaky little breath, he tightens his hold instantly.
one hand sliding up into your hair while the other presses firmly against your back, pulling you completely against his chest.
“you´re okay.” he whispers softly.
you bury your face into his chest finally, fingers gripping weakly at the back of his shirt while the crying you’ve been trying to hold back starts spilling out properly.
steve just holds you tighter.
“i know.” he murmurs into your hair. “i know, baby.”
his hand keeps moving slowly through your hair, soothing and repetitive and impossibly gentle.
“you’re okay.”
you shake your head against him. “i hurt him.”
“yeah...” steve says quietly, always honest with you. “but that relationship was hurting you too.”
your grip tightens on his shirt.
“still doesn’t make this okay.”
steve exhales softly above you, his cheek resting lightly against the top of your head now.
“maybe not.” he murmurs. “but i’m not gonna stand here and pretend what he did this whole time didn´t hurt you first.”
you close your eyes tightly, letting him hold you, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him despite everything.
steve keeps his arms around you for another few seconds.
just enough for your breathing to calm a little. just enough for the crying to stop feeling so uncontrollable.
then slowly, carefully, he pulls back.
not far, just enough to look at you properly.
his hands slide from your back to your arms briefly before dropping completely, like he’s trying not to overwhelm you now. trying not to push.
you wipe quickly under your eyes, embarrassed immediately, but steve pretends not to notice, or maybe he notices and chooses not to make you feel worse about it.
he stays close though, standing right in front of you in the quiet hallway, watching you carefully like he’s trying to figure out the exact right thing to say.
normally words come easy but not today. today everything feels fragile.
you stare at the floor.
“don’t try to make me feel better about this.” you say.
steve’s face softens immediately. “little late for that.”
you let out this weak, miserable laugh through your nose.
he takes that as a good sign.
“baby,” he says carefully, “you’re acting like you murdered somebody.”
your head snaps up immediately. “steve.”
“i’m serious.”
“i cheated on my boyfriend.” you sigh.
“your ex-boyfriend.” he corrects gently.
you groan softly, dragging your hands over your face again “that does not help.”
“i’m trying here.”
despite everything, there’s something so familiar about the way he says it that your chest aches.
this banter, this rhythm between you it’s always been easy. even now. especially now, maybe.
steve leans lightly back against the wall beside the doorway, giving you space while still staying close enough that you can feel his presence.
“look,” he says quietly. “was tonight messy? yeah.”
you look at him tiredly. “messy.”
“trying to soften the blow.” he smiles softly.
“steve.”
“okay, fine.” he sighs dramatically. “disastrous. catastrophic. emotionally horrifying.”
another tiny laugh almost escapes you before you stop it.
his eyes catch it immediately and soften. god, they soften so easily for you.
you shake your head quickly. “don’t do that.”
his brows furrow. “do what?”
“make me laugh like everything’s okay.”
steve goes quiet for a second at that.
“i don’t think everything’s okay.” he says softly. “really.”
the sincerity in his voice makes your stomach twist.
he continues before you can spiral again.
“i just don’t think you’re some terrible person because of what happened tonight.”
“how can you possibly not?” you stare at him.
“because i was there.”
the answer comes instantly.
“i know what happened.” steve continues.
you cross your arms tightly over yourself. “yeah. we kissed.”
his eyes flick briefly to your mouth again, instinctive. then he looks away almost immediately.
“yeah. we did.” he says quietly.
the silence after that feels warm in the worst way, despite all this guilt, neither of you regrets the kiss itself. and that’s the problem.
steve exhales softly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
“he made it sound like we planned this or something.” he mumbles.
“didn’t we?” you ask weakly. “in some subconscious horrible way?”
steve’s head lifts immediately. “hey. no.”
“but maybe he’s right.” you whisper. “maybe i checked out a long time ago and just…” you laugh shakily. “waited until i had someone else.”
steve’s face tightens instantly. “you didn’t use me.”
“i didn’t say that.”
“you implied it.” steve says.
you go quiet, because maybe you did.
steve shakes his head slightly, looking frustrated now, not at you. at the situation.
“you wanna know what i think?” he says finally.
you look up reluctantly.
“i think you spent a really long time trying to force a relationship to work because you didn’t wanna hurt somebody no matter how much he hurt you.” his voice stays calm. “and i think eventually you got exhausted.”
your throat tightens.
“and yeah,” he continues softly. “i think somewhere along the line, feelings got involved between us.”
his eyes flick to yours carefully then, vulnerable and honest.
“but that doesn’t automatically make you manipulative or cruel, or desperate for attention. you needed someone who understood you and i was there.”
you blink rapidly. hearing him say feelings out loud makes everything feel terrifyingly real again.
“steve…”
“what?” he asks quietly. “you want me to lie?”
you don’t.
he sighs softly, looking down for a second before speaking again. “look, if tonight never happened…” he pauses. “if we never kissed, i still would’ve wanted you to leave him.”
your eyes lift to his immediately.
his expression doesn’t change.
“not because i thought i’d get something out of it,” he says quickly. “before you say it.”
he pushes off the wall slightly.
“i wanted you to leave him because of all the times you came crying to me after he made you feel awful. and maybe because i actually am in love with you.”
‘and maybe because i actually am in love with you.’
the words hang in the room heavily, completely changing it.
you just stare at steve for a second, blinking slowly like your brain physically cannot catch up fast enough.
steve looks like he regrets saying it out loud immediately after. not because it isn’t true, because now it’s real, between both of you.
he lets out a quiet breath through his nose, glancing away briefly before looking back at you.
“well,” he mutters awkwardly. “that kinda slipped out.”
your mouth opens slightly. closes again.
“slipped out?” you repeat incredulously. “you don’t accidentally tell someone you’re in love with them, steve.”
“i know that.” he says quickly. “i’m aware.”
“then why do you sound so calm?!”
that actually makes him laugh softly.
not because it’s funny, he’s just nervous.
you can tell.
“trust me.” he says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “i am very much not calm right now.”
you stare at him. “you just confessed to me after i cheated on my boyfriend with you.”
“ex-boyfriend.” he corrects you again.
“steve.”
“sorry.”
you look away first, arms crossing tightly over yourself while your thoughts spin violently.
all those moments you ignored, all those looks, all the tension, all the almosts, suddenly they mean something completely different.
you laugh once quietly under your breath. “oh my god.”
steve watches you carefully. “that reaction doesn’t feel super promising.”
your eyes snap back to his immediately. “i’m not reacting badly!”
“okay.”
“i’m not!”
“you just said ‘oh my god’ like i told you i committed tax fraud.” he holds back a giggle.
despite yourself, you huff out a tiny laugh.
steve’s face softens instantly at the sound. it’s subtle but it’s there, that stupid softness he only seems to have with you and that makes your chest ache even worse.
“how long?” you ask quietly.
steve’s smile fades slightly. “seriously?”
“yeah.”
“i don’t know.” he hesitates.
“that’s such a cop-out answer.” you roll your eyes.
“it’s not!” he argues immediately. “i genuinely don’t know.”
“steve.” you whine.
“what do you want me to say?” he asks, throwing his hands up slightly. “that i saw you one day and suddenly violins started playing?”
“you are so annoying.”
“and yet,” he says softly. “you still kissed me.”
“can you stop bringing that up?” your face heats immediately.
his eyebrows lift. “you want me to stop bringing up the life-changing kiss that happened like ten minutes ago?”
“yes, i do.”
“kinda hard, sweetheart.”
you look away from him again quickly.
bad idea. because it gives him time to really look at you and you can feel it, the weight of his eyes moving across your face carefully.
now that everything’s out in the open, he’s allowing himself to look at you differently.
“you’re doing that thing again.” you murmur.
“what thing?”
“looking at me like that.”
steve goes quiet for a second.
“i’ve always looked at you like this.” steve simply says.
your heart almost stops.
the honesty in his voice is devastating.
you blink rapidly, trying to steady yourself. “that’s not helping.”
“i’m not trying to help anymore.”
your eyes snap back to his immediately. steve’s expression shifts slightly then.
“i spent months trying to convince myself this was just me being protective,” he confesses. “or jealous because your boyfriend sucked.”
“he did suck.” you agree.
“thank you!” steve says immediately, pointing at you. “see? that’s all i’m saying.”
despite everything, you laugh softly again.
his mouth twitches slightly like he’s trying not to smile too hard.
“but then it got worse.” he continues.
“worse?”
“way worse.” steve admits.
“how?” you ask.
steve looks at you for a long second before answering. “you’d touch me and i’d think about it for, like, three business days.”
your eyes widen instantly.
he laughs quietly at your reaction, leaning back against the wall again.
“okay, you tell me something now.” he mumbles through a soft smile.
“what?” you ask.
“you seriously never noticed?”
your stomach drops slightly.
you noticed things. you noticed everything. you noticed the way steve always moved closer to you unconsciously. the way his hand always found your back in crowded places. the way he looked at your boyfriends like they personally offended him. the way he remembered every tiny thing about you without trying.
you noticed.
you avoid his eyes immediately which is answer enough.
“you did notice.” he says quietly.
“not fully!” you defend yourself.
“baby.” he groans.
“i thought maybe you were just-”
“hopelessly devoted to you?” he offers.
you groan loudly, covering your face with your hands. “stop talking.”
he laughs softly again.
“you know what the worst part is?” he says.
you peek at him through your fingers suspiciously. “what?”
“robin used to make fun of me for it constantly.”
“what? really?” your hands slowly lower.
“yeah.” he nods once. “apparently i’m not subtle.”
“robin knew you were in love with me?”
“robin knew before i did.”
you stare at him in horror.
“she used to literally kick me under tables whenever i stared at you too long.” steve laughs at your expression.
your jaw drops. “how have i never noticed this?!”
“because you trusted me.” his voice softens slightly after saying it.
and suddenly the mood shifts again.
steve looks at you for a second before speaking again. “i never wanted you uncomfortable around me.”
“you never did." you admit.
“good.”
he means that. seriously.
you shake your head slowly, overwhelmed all over again.
“i just…” you laugh weakly. “i can’t believe this is real.”
“yeah,” steve murmurs softly. “me neither.”
you study him carefully for a second.
“were you really okay never saying anything?” you ask softly.
steve immediately gives you a look. “absolutely not.”
“then why didn’t you?” you laugh softly.
his expression changes slightly, a bit more serious now.
“because you loved somebody else.” he says without bitterness. “and because i knew if i told you, i’d mean it.”
your throat tightens painfully.
steve looks down briefly before continuing quieter. “i didn’t wanna be some guy waiting around hoping your relationship failed.”
tyler’s words flash through your head immediately for the millionth time.
waiting around for his turn.
your expression changes slightly.
steve notices instantly. “don´t look guilty because of what he said.”
you swallow hard. “but what if he’s right about everything?”
“he’s not.” steve’s jaw tightens slightly.
“steve-”
“i didn’t sit around hoping he’d hurt you.” his voice stays calm. “i hoped you’d realize you deserved better.”
your eyes lock onto his and suddenly the tension between you shifts again.
steve takes one slow step closer, not enough to crowd you, just enough that your breath catches.
“and yeah,” he says quietly, eyes flicking briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes. “a part of me wanted that better to be me.”
your heartbeat stutters violently.
his eyes flick briefly across your face again.
jesus, you do feel awful about tyler.
about how things ended, the humiliation on his face when he left was unbearable… but standing here with steve now, with all this honesty finally sitting out in the open between you, you can’t pretend your feelings disappeared just because the situation hurts.
you swallow hard.
“you make this really difficult…” you whisper.
steve’s expression softens immediately. “i know.”
“no, seriously.” you laugh weakly, shaking your head. “i should probably want space from you right now, steve.”
“do you?” his eyes stay on yours.
the question lands directly in your chest. the answer comes fast, too fast.
no.
not even a little.
you look away from him first.
“that’s the problem.” you say.
steve goes quiet after that.
you can practically see him thinking and holding himself back, trying so hard not to push you when emotions are already everywhere.
even now, even after confessing he’s in love with you, he’s still more worried about overwhelming you than getting what he wants.
your eyes lift back to his slowly.
“say something.” you murmur.
steve lets out the smallest breath through his nose. “dangerous request.”
“why?”
his mouth twitches faintly.
“because i’m trying very hard to behave right now.” he admits, eyes turning dark.
“steve…”
“i’m serious, baby.” his voice lowers slightly. “you’re standing there looking at me like that after kissing me half to death ten minutes ago, and i’m trying not to make this worse for you.”
your breath catches immediately.
the memory hits all over again at the way he says it. the wall against your back while his hands rest on your waist. the way he kissed you like he’d been holding it in forever.
you close your eyes briefly. big mistake.
suddenly you can feel it again.
and when you open them, steve’s already looking at you differently.
his voice softens instantly. “hey.”
“i know i should stop this.” you shake your head weakly.
steve’s jaw tightens slightly at the word should.
“but you don’t want to…” he says quietly.
not a question.
you hate how easily he reads you.
your eyes flick down briefly to his mouth.
steve’s breathing changes immediately. small and subtle.
the tension shifts all over again.
“this feels horrible, steve.” you admit softly.
“kissing me feels horrible?” steve’s brows pull together instantly.
“no.” the answer comes too fast.
your face burns immediately and suddenly steve looks dangerously pleased for half a second before softening again.
“okay.” he murmurs.
you groan softly, embarrassed. “stop looking at me like that.”
all the softness in his face comes rushing back.
“baby,” he says quietly. “i just want you.”
the sincerity in his voice hits hard.
your breath catches painfully because he says it so simply.
and suddenly the space between you and steve feels impossible.
you stare at him for one long second. then another.
and neither of you moves but the air changes anyway.
his eyes flick slowly between yours like he’s trying to decide whether he should stop this before it starts again.
he gives you every opportunity to pull away. every. single. one.
“tell me to back off.” he says softly.
like he’s hanging onto self-control by a thread.
you stare at him, breathing unevenly, because the worst part is that you know he means it. if you asked him to leave right now, he would. no matter how much it hurt him.
somehow that makes this harder.
tyler’s gone. your relationship is over.
you should be crying more than this. you should be devastated. guilty. disgusted with yourself.
instead you’re standing in your hallway staring at steve’s mouth while he looks at you like he’s trying not to cave.
“i hate this…” you whisper suddenly.
steve’s brows pull together instantly. “hate what?”
you laugh softly, but it comes out shaky. frustrated. “the fact that i know i should ask you to leave.”
his expression changes at that, he looks hurt.
he nods once slowly. “okay...”
and he actually starts stepping back.
he just accepts it immediately even though you can physically see how badly he doesn’t want to.
“wait.” you blurt out.
steve stops instantly.
you drag your hands over your face hard enough to make your skin burn. “god, this is so messed up.”
“yeah, i know… no need to tell me that.” he says quietly.
“and you standing there being all understanding is making it worse, steve.”
“what do you want me to do?” he asks softly. “be an asshole?”
“maybe a little.” you confess.
“not really my style with you.” he says.
he says it so naturally, him being gentle with you is instinct.
“you can’t just…” you shake your head helplessly. “you can’t just tell me you’re in love with me and then look at me like that.”
“how am i looking at you?”
you stare at him incredulously. “seriously?”
“i’m asking.” steve says.
“you already know what i’m thinking.” you reply.
steve goes quiet.
“do i?” he breaks silence.
you lean back against the wall with a tired exhale, eyes fixed on the floor. “i feel like such a bad person right now.”
“hey.” the firmness in his voice makes you look up immediately.
steve’s expression has hardened slightly.
“you are not a bad person.” steve says softly.
“steve, i cheated on somebody.”
“after spending months getting treated like shit.”
“that doesn’t excuse it.” you groan.
“i didn’t say it did.” his voice stays calm.
he takes one careful step closer again.
you cross your arms tighter over yourself. “you don’t get it, steve.”
“then explain it to me.” he says.
the answer comes so fast it catches you off guard. he sounds serious, completely open like he genuinely wants to understand every ugly thought in your head right now.
you stare at him for a second, then laugh weakly. “i don’t know how to explain it.”
“try.”
“i just…” your voice cracks slightly. “i feel awful because i hurt him.”
steve nods immediately. “okay...”
“but then i kiss you and i don’t regret it, and that makes me feel worse.” you admit, your voice low to hide the shame.
his eyes flick down to your mouth unconsciously.
you notice.
“you really don’t regret it?” he asks quietly.
“don’t ask me that, steve.” you sigh.
“i wanna hear you say it.” steve whispers.
the tension shifts instantly, your heartbeat stutters.
“steve…”
his eyes stay locked on yours. “come on.”
the softness in his voice makes it worse somehow. less pressure and more intimacy.
you swallow hard.
“no, steve.” you whisper finally. “i don’t regret kissing you.”
steve actually closes his eyes for a second after hearing that like the words physically hit him.
“you have any idea what that does to me?” he murmurs.
“i’m already barely holding it together.” you say.
“you think i’m doing any better?” steve asks.
he takes another slow step closer. close enough now that you can feel the warmth coming off him.
“you know what tonight’s been like for me?” he asks quietly.
you can’t answer.
steve laughs softly under his breath, shaking his head once.“watching you look at me like you wanted me all night and trying not to do something stupid.”
your eyes widen slightly. “i was not-”
he gives you a look. “you were.”
you open your mouth to argue again, then close it.
because honestly?
maybe you were.
his expression softens dangerously.
the air between you suddenly feels too thick to breathe properly.
“this is crazy.” you whisper. “and you’re way too calm about this.”
that makes him laugh.
“i’m not calm.” he steps even closer. “i’m trying very hard not to pin you against this wall and kiss you again.”
you hate how much your body reacts to him. how easy it is.
you shake your head weakly. “you’re impossible.”
“and you’re staring at my mouth again.” he smirks.
your eyes snap upward immediately.
steve’s lips twitch slightly and you see it because you actually were looking at his mouth.
“you’re so annoying.” you whisper.
“yeah?” he murmurs, leaning in just slightly. “still wanna kiss me?”
your stomach flips so hard it almost hurts.
gosh, he’s right and he’s so stupid.
you should stop this. you know you should.
but instead you whisper. “you make me feel insane, steve.”
steve’s face softens instantly at that. something emotional flashes across it so quickly it almost knocks the air from your lungs.
“sweetheart.” he says quietly. “you have been ruining me for, like, years.”
your eyes shut briefly. “that’s not fair.”
“none of this is fair.” steve whispers.
when you open your eyes again, he’s even closer, enough that your noses almost brush. and still he waits, still he lets you decide.
“if i kiss you again,” you whisper shakily. “i’m not gonna be able to pretend this is just a mistake anymore.”
steve’s gaze flicks between your eyes and your mouth slowly.
“good.” he whispers back.
you grab the front of his shirt suddenly and pull him in.
steve makes this low sound against your mouth like he’s been dying for it.
the kiss is immediate and messy. all the guilt and confusion and aching feelings pouring into it at once. intense in a completely different way now.
because now there are no misunderstandings left between you.
his hands slide to your ass instantly, gripping tighter this time as he backs you gently into the wall again.
“fuck.” steve breathes against your mouth.
the word sounds wrecked.
your fingers tangle in his hair again and his head drops slightly at the feeling, it affects him way too much.
“you have no idea-” he murmurs breathlessly, kissing you again before you can ask what he means.
his mouth moves against yours slower this time, like he’s savoring it now that he finally can. and god, the way he touches you, careful but desperate at the same time, is driving you insane.
you can feel it in the way his hands grab your waist instantly, pulling you flush against him with this desperate kind of care, like he can’t decide whether to hold you gently or never let you go again.
the kiss gets deeper fast.
and somewhere between steve backing you against the wall and your fingers tangling into his hair, your hands find the hem of his shirt.
steve reacts immediately when your fingers slide underneath it. his breath catches sharply against your mouth.
“fuck.” he whispers.
you don’t even think about it.
you just tug harder, desperate to touch him, to feel more of him. suddenly the layers between you feel unbearable.
steve breaks the kiss just enough to look at you, breathing hard.
his hair’s a mess already, lips swollen again, eyes completely dark with want and emotion all tangled together.
“baby,” he says softly, almost disbelieving. “you’re killing me.”
your stomach flips violently.
you tug at his shirt again impatiently. “take it off, steve.”
that catches him off guard. his eyebrows lift slightly and for one brief second he just stares at you. then he laughs softly under his breath.
“need you right now, baby.” steve groans.
heat rushes through your entire body and before you can even process the effect his words had on you, steve’s pulling the shirt over his head quickly, tossing it somewhere behind him without looking.
you feel your core shamelessly pulse at the sight.
you’ve seen steve before, obviously.
but not like this. not flushed and breathing hard while looking at you like he wants to crawl under your skin. not standing in front of you after kissing you senseless.
his chest rises unevenly as your eyes drag over him for half a second too long.
steve notices immediately.
“don’t look at me like you’re trying to get me into trouble.” he smirks.
you laugh softly. “pretty sure we’re already there.”
“yeah,” he says quietly, eyes flicking down to your mouth again. “guess we are.”
then he’s kissing you again, harder this time.
now your hands are on him directly, sliding over his hairy chest and shoulders while steve practically melts into every touch. you feel him shiver slightly beneath your fingertips and it sends heat straight through you.
“you’re so sensitive.” you whisper against his mouth.
steve lets out this breathless laugh that sounds almost embarrassed. “only with you.”
ugh, the way he says things.
your fingers drag lightly down his chest and his head drops briefly against your shoulder with a low groan.
“baby…” he groans warningly.
you can’t stop smiling. “what?”
“you know exactly what.”
his hands tighten instinctively at your waist before sliding lower, palms warm against your ass, restless.
he kisses down your jaw slowly, mouth warm against your skin while his hands roam carefully over your sides.
“you’re so pretty.” he murmurs against your neck suddenly. “seriously.” he pulls back just enough to look at you properly again. “you’re ridiculously pretty. it’s actually annoying.”
“that’s your line?” you laugh breathlessly.
“i’m distracted.” he steve replies.
“clearly.”
his eyes flick down your body briefly before returning to your face immediately, almost like he catches himself.
you reach for him again before he can pull too far into his own head, fingers curling lightly around the back of his neck.
“c’mere.” he whispers. “stop pulling away.”
he kisses you slower this time, one hand sliding into your hair while the other settles firmly at your ass again, pulling you into him until you can feel the warmth of his skin everywhere.
steve kisses like he’s losing control of himself slowly.
your hands are still moving over his bare chest, fingers dragging across warm skin while his mouth keeps finding yours again and again, deeper every time, and he’s becoming impossibly more affected by it all.
every little sound you make seems to hit him directly.
every tug of your fingers into his hair, every shaky breath against his mouth. it’s driving him insane.
you feel it the second his body presses closer against yours again.
his breathing catches hard, this time, there’s no hiding how turned on he is.
your stomach flips instantly when you feel him through his jeans, growing bigger every second.
“ah- fuck…” he breathes softly against your mouth, almost a moan.
his forehead drops briefly against yours, eyes squeezed shut for a second like he’s trying to regain composure and failing miserably.
“you okay?” you whisper breathlessly, barely able to stop yourself from laughing.
steve opens his eyes slowly. “you cannot ask me that right now.”
his hand at your ass squeezes, like he’s trying to find balance.
you laugh softly against his mouth.
his lips move to your jaw again, then lower, kissing slowly along your neck while one of his hands slips beneath your shirt.
warm skin against warm skin.
you inhale sharply at the feeling.
steve groans softly against your throat immediately.
“there.” he murmurs quietly. “that sound. jesus.”
your fingers tighten automatically in his hair.
he kisses you harder after that. and suddenly he’s pulling gently at the bottom of your shirt with slightly shaky hands.
his eyes lift to yours immediately after, checking, always checking.
“can i?” he asks softly.
your heartbeat stutters. you nod.
steve pulls your shirt up carefully but quickly, hands warm against your skin as he lifts it over your head and tosses it to the ground.
then he freezes. his eyes drag slowly over you and suddenly he looks almost overwhelmed again because you’re not wearing a bra.
“shit, baby.” he says softly before he can stop himself.
heat rushes to your face immediately. “steve.”
“sorry- no, not sorry, actually.” he laughs breathlessly, staring at you like he’s genuinely lost his mind a little. “holy shit.”
you shove lightly at his shoulder, embarrassed. “stop looking at me like that.”
“i literally can’t.” his voice has gone lower now.
his hands slide slowly up your bare sides like he still can’t believe he’s allowed to touch you like this.
“you are so fucking beautiful. i’m gonna fuck you so good, baby, i promise.” he murmurs.
a moan accidentally leaves your mouth, making steve smirk.
“you have no idea what you do to me.” he says quietly.
your stomach twists violently.
he kisses you again suddenly, hard enough to make you stumble slightly back into the wall. steve catches you immediately, one hand sliding firmly to your waist while the other moves instinctively up your back, holding you against him.
feeling him hard against you like this makes your brain go completely foggy.
you make this tiny involuntary sound against his mouth and steve groans immediately.
“fuck, don’t do that.” his forehead presses against yours again briefly while he breathes hard. “i swear i’m trying to behave.”
the words send another rush of heat through you.
steve’s hands are everywhere.
your waist.
your hips.
your boobs.
your ass.
his fingers hook briefly at the waistband of your shorts while his forehead presses against yours.
“baby,” he mutters breathlessly, half laughing from how overwhelmed he is. “you are making it very hard for me to think.”
“please, steve.” you whisper.
steve groans softly into your mouth, hands tightening at your hips before he steps back just enough to look at you properly.
his chest is rising hard, eyes dark and fixed on you like he’s gone.
then, slower this time, giving you every chance to stop him, his fingers slide more firmly against your waistband.
you nod before he even asks. steve’s eyes flick up to yours immediately at that, visibly affected by the trust in it.
“yeah?” he murmurs.
you nod again, breathless.
he pulls your shorts down quickly but carefully, hands warm against your thighs as he kisses you again immediately after, like he can’t go more than two seconds without your mouth now.
suddenly his hands are under your thighs and he lifts you effortlessly.
you gasp softly in surprise, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist while steve steadies you against him immediately, one arm securely beneath your ass while the other tangles into your hair.
“hi.” he says breathlessly, looking up at you with this dizzy little smile.
you laugh softly despite everything. “show-off.”
“absolutely.”
his forehead bumps lightly against yours before he kisses you again slower this time, deeper, and god, being this close to him feels dangerous.
your fingers slide through his hair while steve walks you both backward blindly, unable to stop kissing you long enough to care where he’s going.
his hands grip your thighs tighter every time you react to him.
every shaky breath, little sound, it’s driving him insane.
he kisses you again before you can hide your face, smiling softly against your mouth when you laugh into the kiss too.
but the smile fades quickly because the way you’re looking at him now, warm and wanting and completely overwhelmed, absolutely wrecks him.
his grip tightens slightly beneath your thighs as his eyes drag over your face as he starts moving.
your legs stay wrapped around steve’s waist while he carries you through the hallway toward the kitchen, one arm locked securely beneath your ass again.
steve kisses you like he’s starving.
there’s barely any talking anymore, just breathless sounds between kisses and hands grabbing desperately at each other like neither of you can get close enough.
his mouth never really leaves yours as he carries you down the hallway toward the kitchen, your legs wrapped tightly around his waist while your fingers stay tangled in his hair.
every few steps he stops walking completely just to kiss you harder, sloppier.
and every single time you react to him, steve groans softly against your mouth like it’s driving him insane.
his grip tightens beneath your thighs when you pull at his hair.
by the time he gets you into the kitchen, both of you are breathing hard.
the tension between you feels overwhelming now, hot and messy and impossible to stop.
steve backs you gently against the counter for half a second just so he can pull away long enough to get his belt undone. his eyes never leave yours while he does it.
you can hear the buckle clink against the kitchen floor a second later before he impatiently pushes his jeans down and kicks them aside.
“gonna make you feel better than that asshole ever did.” steve whispers.
“steve!” you scoff.
then he’s right back against you again instantly.
his mouth crashes into yours again while his hands slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto the kitchen counter.
you gasp softly into the kiss at the sudden movement. steve swallows the sound immediately.
one hand braces beside you against the counter while the other grips your waist firmly, pulling you right to the edge until he’s standing between your knees.
“you’re so goddamn perfect, baby. been dreaming about you like this for so long.” he praises.
leaning down, steve captures one rosy peak between his lips, suckling hard. his other hand trails lower, teasing along the waistband of your panties.
with a swift tug, steve removes your last scrap of clothing, your panties, baring you completely to his hungry gaze.
he sits you up easily on the cool marble countertop, nudging your legs apart to stand between them. his palms skim up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake, before coming to rest on your hips.
“look at you,” steve rasped, voice thick with lust. “so fucking pretty f’me. can't believe this is really happening.”
“steve, please.” you plead, your body almost shaking in need.
he lays a large hand on your stomach, kinda laying you down a bit on your elbows to see your body better, spreading open for him.
“been thinking about this, about me, haven't you?” steve asks bluntly between open-mouthed kisses on your torso.
“mhm.” you nod pathetically.
“mhm?” steve slightly mocks you, pouting and eyebrows frowning as he hums.
steve’s hand leaves your hips to softly circle your swollen clit with the pad of his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp and your back arch.
he watches, transfixed, as your back arches off the counter, pressing your breasts towards him. the sight of you, lost in pleasure, it's probably the most erotic thing steve’s ever seen.
“let me hear ya’.” steve encourages huskily, increasing the pressure of his thumb on you. “wanna know how i make you feel.”
“so g-good, steve.” your voice fails as a soft gasp interrupts you, you grab onto his free big forearm.
steve leans in to capture your lips in a filthy kiss, all tongues and teeth and desperation.
he can feel how close you are, your walls closing around nothing but steve pulls back just as you teeter on the brink, denying you that release.
a wicked grin spreads across his face at your whimper of frustration.
“steve! why’d you stop?!” you whine.
steve just leaves that stupid hot grin on his face and lowers it between your legs. his warm and soft respiration hitting your sensitive wet folds.
slowly and torturously, he drags the flat of his tongue through your dripping slit, from entrance to clit. steve seals his lips around your clit and sucks gently.
“ah- fuc- more to the left. ughnhn- oh my god, there!” you guide steve, messy moans interrupting you constantly.
the feeling of your thighs clamping around steve’s head, holding him in place, only spurs him on. steve groans into your core, the vibrations intensifying the pleasure.
he maintains the slow yet effective soft licks on your clit, alternating between kitten licks and gentle sucks.
“you’re fucking soaked.” steve groans, words vibrating against your flesh.
your legs tremble around his head, your breath coming in increasingly shallow pants, your fingers threading through steve’s hair… you’re really close.
“almost- almost there.” you manage to say, holding on to steve’s hair for dear life.
steve’s tongue locks on your clit with singular focus, sealing his lips around the sensitive nub and sucking hard, pushing you to your limit.
“that’s it, baby. let go f’me.” he groans against your flesh, interrupting the amount of pleasure you were receiving from his tongue.
“don’t stop, steve.” you push his head against your wet folds.
steve smiles at your words and increases the suction on your clit again, feeling your body tensing, your muscles pulling. your thighs clamp tighter around his head, holding him in place as your orgasm crashes over agressively.
“oh my god, f-fuckck. fuck, steveeee.” your moans come out slurred and loud.
steve hums against your core. “mm baby.” his lips moving on your clit as he lazily speaks.
he works you through the aftershocks, his touches gentling as he feels your body relax under his touch. finally, he places one last kiss on your pussy, before pulling away to admire his work.
you, flushed and panting, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. steve’s hands settle on your hips, thumbs rubbing small circles on your hipbones as he gazes at you with undisguised hunger.
“god, you're beautiful like this.” he murmurs against your lips, voice rough. “coming undone for me...”
“need more of you, steve.” you say, still panting, thighs clenching at the thought of his cock inside you. “please.”
“yeah?” steve’s voice comes out husky and rough.
you can feel his hardness grinding on your leg.
“c’mere.” he whispers, grabbing the back of your legs to get you off the counter gently. “turn around f’me.”
you quickly spin around, bending over the cold marble countertop. steve presses his chest to your back and leans down to nip at your earlobe.
“how’d i get so lucky with you? god.” steve’s voice causing you goosebumps all over your body. “gonna take you from behind right here, baby. that’ okay?”
“mhm. yes, steve. please.” you desperately agree.
he carefully kicks your legs apart and grinds his clothed erection against your bare bottom, letting you feel how hard he is for you. one hand slides around to rub tight circles on your clit while the other grips your hip possessively.
your soft desperate moans whenever he touches you are music to steve’s ears.
with a smirk, steve hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and slowly peels them down his hips. as more of his dick comes into view, steve hears your breath hitch.
your head gently turns to look behind you and watch him get undressed.
finally, steve steps out of the fabric pooled around his ankles, his big cock springing free, already leaking at the tip. he strokes the length from base to crown a few times without taking his eyes off of you.
“fuck…” you talk out loud without realizing, looking at his cock completely dumbfounded by his size.
you lock eyes with steve and then with his dick once more. he lets you drink in the sight. the thick, veiny shaft, the swollen purple head already glistening with precum, the heavy sack beneath.
at your continued silence, he raises an eyebrow. “i’ll go slow, baby.”
steve steps even closer, kissing your neck, the thick length of his erection sliding along the cleft of your ass, leaving a trail of precum in its wake.
then, he presses the bulbous head of his dick against your entrance. you can’t help but feel guilty for comparing his size to tyler’s. the difference is stark, almost intimidating.
steve takes a deep breath, reining in his overwhelming urge to simply slam into you.
with a low, rumbling groan, he positions himself at your entrance once more. gripping your hips for leverage, steve begins to push forward, breaching your slick folds with agonizing slowness. the flared head of his cock parts your labia, sinking into your tight heat inch by excruciating inch.
“fuuuuck, baby.” he hisses through clenched teeth. “so goddamn tight. relax for me, sweetheart. breathe and let me in.”
“steve steve steve, fuck!” you moan and grab at his hand on your hips for stability as steve continues his torturously slow advance, pausing frequently to allow your body time to adjust.
with each tiny increment, he can feel you stretching around his cock, accommodating to his size. steve’s fingers dig more into the flesh of your hips, anchoring himself as he struggles for control.
finally, after what feels like an eternity, steve’s heavy balls nestle against your clit. he stays still, savoring the sensation of being fully sheathed inside your cunt.
“holy shit, you feel fucking amazing, babe.” steve groans, voice strained with the effort of holding back. “made for my cock.”
slowly, he starts to move, withdrawing until just the tip remains inside you before pushing back in. steve sets a deep, rolling rhythm, each thrust hitting you deep.
“‘s too much, steve…” you gasp at the feeling.
“i know… i know, baby. take it.” he whispers through clenched teeth again.
the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin fills the kitchen, punctuated by mingled moans.
steve leans over you, covering your smaller frame with his larger one. one hand snakes up to wrap loosely around your throat, applying the barest hint of pressure as the other seeks out your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub.
“fuuuuuuuck, steve- oh my god, m’ steve!” you moan, your voice kinda strained as steve grabs your throat tighter.
steve’s hips snap forward with increasing force, the wet squelch of your pussy, the slap of flesh on flesh echoing through the room.
he looks down to your ass hitting his hips with every thrust only to see a white ring around his cock, both of your juices mixing together. that almost sends him to the edge, a feral grin spreads across steve’s face at the sight.
“fuck, look at that.” he rasps. “you’re dripping on me, sweetheart.”
you can’t look but you know exactly what steve is referring to.
“feels so good, steve.” you pant.
“yeah?” steve groans, giving your ass a sharp slap. “my perfect little cockdrunk girl.”
his grip on your hip loosens slightly, becoming more caressing than bruising. steve’s fingers on your clit speed up, rubbing tight, fast circles.
“you're doing so well, taking me so deep.” he praises huskily.
he maintains the deep thrusts. the hand on your throat slides up to tangle in your hair, tugging your head back slightly as he leans in to nip and suck at the column of your neck.
unable to speak, you arch your back and press yourself against steve.
his hand comes down to deliver a sharp smack to your jiggling ass cheek. the stinging impact seems to spur you on, your cunt clamping down around steve like a vice.
“oooh- fuck, just like that!” he groans, hips snapping forward with renewed vigor.
“steve!” you moan out his name.
the sound of his name falling from your lips in ecstasy sends a bolt of pure lust straight to steve’s cock.
“i’m gonna- oh fuck, steve!” you gasp as steve thrusts.
“gonna what, baby? talk to me. fuuuuuck.”
feeling your body tensing, hearing the breathy warning in your voice, steve knows you’re so so so close. with a final burst of energy, he redoubles his efforts, hips jackhammering into you at a perfect pace.
“cumming, steve. god, you’re cock feels so good.” you let every word come out of you with each thrust of his hips.
the coil of tension in steve’s gut winds tighter and tighter, his thrusts growing erratic. he can feel your walls fluttering around his cock.
“let go, cum for me, baby.”
“oooh fuck! steve!” you throw your head back and scream in pleasure as your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing.
your inner muscles clamp down on steve’s throbbing dick, rippling and squeezing as wave after wave of intense pleasure courses through.
the feeling of your pussy squeezing him is too much to bear. with a moan of your name, steve buries himself to the hilt inside you, thick cock pulsing as he explodes inside you.
“fuck, fuck, fuck!” steve groans, hands squeezing your ass.
jet after jet of hot, thick cum paints your inner walls, flooding your insides with steve. he grinds against you, working his release deeper.
steve collapses forward, blanketing your form with his larger one as he rides out the aftershocks, his softening cock still twitching weakly inside your pussy.
“fuck…” you whisper, breath already slowing down.
now, the refrigerator hums, outside, a car passes down the street.
steve’s hand moves to your waist absentmindedly, thumb brushing back and forth like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. honestly, he probably doesn’t, he’s always touching you. the difference is that now you’re both painfully aware of it.
you swallow. “say something.”
that finally gets a real smile out of him.
“can’t really talk right now to be honest.” he laughs. “still… still coming back from what we just did.”
you smile at that, putting your back against his chest, kissing his jawline.
for a second neither of you says anything.
then steve exhales softly. “we’ll figure it out.”
you look at him. “you don’t even know what ‘it’ is.”
“doesn’t matter.”
the answer comes so fast it almost makes you laugh. “steve-”
“i’m serious.” his eyes don’t leave yours. “we’ll figure it out.”
and maybe it’s ridiculous.
maybe the entire night is ridiculous.
but standing there with him looking at you like that, so certain.
for the first time since tyler knocked on that door…
you almost believe it too.
note: omggggg this took me so LONG to write but i hope it was worth it 😭😭 tagging everyone who asked to be tagged !!
Heyyy, so I read your “I like when you take care of me “ fic (I think that’s what’s it was called, sorry if it’s not 😅) , anyway, I was wondering if you could maybe do a part 2 where reader finally says I love you, you could do whatever you want, maybe some fluff and smug, but yea, I just loved it so much and I need a part 2 jaja. Ur an amazing writer btw
Hopeless Romantics
Part 2 of ‘I like taking care of you’ but can be read as a one shot
Synopsis: You’re in love with Steve Harrington, you just don’t know if he’s in love with you.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
WC: ~4.1k
Tags: 18+ MDNI, brief-ish smut, oral f!receiving, p in v, dry humping, idiots in love, angsty, miscommunication, happy ending <3, getting interrupted, stobin roommates!!
Notes: You know I have been wanting to write a part 2 for that fic so i’m so glad you’ve sent this request!!!
Masterlist
You didn’t know why you couldn’t just say it.
You and Steve had been very seriously dating for months. You saw each other every day, lived in each other's pockets, literally. You were essentially his and Robin’s third roommate.
God, your body ached, filled to the brim with love.
All those feelings and yet you just couldn’t say the words.
I love you, Steve.
They played in your head like a broken record, over and over, and over again. From the moment you woke up and saw his soft sleepy face, to the moment he kissed you goodnight. It was deafening.
You punished yourself every day in your mind for being such a coward but you didn’t want to put your heart on the line. Even though, whether you said the words to him or not, they were still very much true.
The longer you waited, the more the doubt set in. Because sure, you hadn’t said it, but neither had he. And Steve was a confident guy – surely if he felt it, he would just say it… right?
Another month went by and you pushed the words down so hard that they were starting to push back. Like they had developed a mind of their own and were trying to claw their way out. But now you didn’t even want to say it, not when you felt like you wouldn’t hear those words reflected back at you.
It took every ounce of self control to keep the lid on your feelings, especially in moments when the filter between your heart and your mouth felt more permeable.
In the morning before the weight of the day set in.
At night as you drifted off, the line of reality and dreams becoming blurred.
Or when you had sex.
Because it didn’t feel like just sex – it felt like making love.
He’d get so deep inside you it felt like he was physically pushing the words out all the way from the pit of your stomach, up out your throat. He’d press his forehead against yours, his mouth over your gaping one, like he could breathe in the words if you let him. And the things that Steve would say to you during did not quell your feelings in the slightest.
I love how you feel around me.
That’s it, that’s my girl.
Love those sounds you make, baby.
It was like he was taunting you with words so close to what you wanted – needed – to hear.
In those moments, you only allowed yourself restrained whimpers as you felt Steve invade every crevasse of your physical body and your spiritual soul, worried what might slip out if you fully let yourself go.
“Steve,” you gasped out one time.
Steve’s hips ground into yours, brushing against your aching nub and gummy walls with each thrust.
“What is it, baby?” He asked not to tease you, but with genuine care and curiosity.
Steve always wanted to make you feel good. It made your heart light up in your chest as you felt heat course through you.
“I–ugh–I lo–“
Your orgasm cut you off, making you moan out something completely unintelligible. You narrowly avoided the embarrassment of confessing your love to Steve during sex. But it was getting harder and harder not to say it each time.
You came back down to earth to see Steve laying next to you with the most radiant smile across his lips. For a split second you thought he might say it. Something in the way his eyes traced your face, lingering on each of your features. His lips parted like he was going to say something.
Then he leaned over, pecked your lips and said; “goodnight.”
One afternoon, Steve was making sandwiches for the two of you. Sunlight streamed in the tiny window above the sink as his broad shoulders took up most of the space of his kitchen. You sat at the counter watching as he carefully assembled whatever weird combination of ingredients he had recently discovered.
“You’re gonna love it,” he assured you.
I love you, you thought.
He sat the plate down in front of you, gave you a soft kiss on your temple, before sitting himself on the stool next to you, his knee brushing yours in a way that felt so natural.
He tucked into his sandwich immediately but you just stared at yours.
It was also in these kind of comfortable domestic moments where you felt it even stronger. When it felt like you had known him for eternity and eternity would never be long enough.
“I know it looks kinda gross, but trust me, you–“
“–Steve, I love you.”
It just came out.
Your tone wasn’t romantic or loving, it was matter of fact, like you were telling him the time. You didn’t even look at him, just kept looking at the sandwich.
“What?” Steve said through his mouthful.
Definitely not the reaction you wanted. You almost wondered if you just thought you said it but what came out was actually complete gibberish.
You whined, collapsing your head into your hands. “I love you,” you said again.
This time it was shakier like you were uncertain. Not of how you felt, but of how he would react.
Nothing came out of Steve’s mouth except for chewing noises.
It felt like hours passed before he finally spoke. “Shit.”
Okay that was definitely worse than the first time.
Steve got up from his stool and started pacing as much as he could in the confined space of the kitchen. You slowly lifted your head from your hands, peeking out from under them to look at him but he wouldn’t meet your gaze.
“I’m such an idiot,” he said to himself.
You just looked at him confused and panicked.
“Steve–“
“–Are you being serious?” He finally turned to you.
Your eyes went wide, a choked laugh of disbelief exited your throat before you could stop it.
“What kind of question is that?” You shot back at him, your voice stern but your eyes started welling up.
“You’re in love with me?” Steve said like it was a question. His eyes were glassy also but his brows were drawn together like curtains he was trying to hide behind.
You took a deep breath before you answered. “Yes.”
“Since when?”
You groaned in annoyance, again with the questions. You didn’t want to escalate an already tense situation so you decided to just answer, then maybe he’d stop and at least let you down easy the rest of the way.
“Probably since the first time we kissed.” You felt embarrassed admitting just how long you’d let Steve live in your heart while you were just a guest in his.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered as he ran his palms over his face.
“Okay, look,” you said, sliding off the stool. Its legs scraped along the tiles gratingly. “I’m, uh, I’m just gonna go.” Your eyes never left your feet.
“Hey, no, no, no. Wait!” Steve’s hand reached out to grab your forearm.
Every wrinkle of your brain told you to rip it away from him, but every beat of your heart told you to stay.
Against your better judgement, you listened to your heart and turned back to him. You could hardly see his features through the tears in your eyes.
“I have fucked this up so bad, just–“ he took a deep breath, “give me a second.”
You did, you stood there looking at him, just letting him hold your beating heart in his hands, waiting for him to rip it apart.
Steve placed his hands on your shoulders and gazed deep into your eyes like he was looking for something in them.
“Do you mean it? Everything? That you’ve been in love with me this whole time?”
“Yes.” Your voice trembled as you spoke.
“Like, love, love?”
“God damnit, Steve.” You shook his hands off you. “How many times are you going to make me say it! Yes, I love you, okay? But right now I feel like I wanna fucking kill yo–“
Steve lurched forward, his hands enveloped the sides of your face as he pressed his lips to yours. You stumbled back in shock. You couldn’t even kiss back, you were too stunned, confused, and you were still crying.
Steve pulled back after a moment, he wiped a tear that fell from your eye with his thumb and you hated how much you instinctively leaned into his touch.
“I love you too,” he said, his voice soft but certain.
“What?”
Much like Steve’s reaction before, you were slightly caught off guard by his confession.
He leant his forehead against yours. “I am so sorry I freaked out, this is so not how I wanted this to go.”
“Yeah, me neither,” you said as you stepped back from him. “What the hell was that about?”
It was your turn to ask the questions. Not quite ready to move on from the ordeal Steve put you through for the last few minutes.
He sighed, his head hung low towards the floor. “I wanted to be sure you really meant it,” he said quietly.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”
“Well I’ve heard those words before and they didn’t mean shit.”
You knew about his past relationships, knew he had been hurt before, but you had no idea he still carried that weight around so heavily. As much as that made your chest tighten, you were hurt that Steve had let it shift on to you.
“Steve, do not take your insecurities out on me.”
Steve looked up when he heard the crack in your voice.
“I know, I’m sorry.” He closed the gap between you again, reaching carefully for your hand in case you pulled away – you didn't. “I didn’t mean to I– I was just scared.”
“Scared of what?”
“That you didn’t love me like I love you or that you’d say it and then…” Steve’s voice trailed off, like he was finding it hard to truly articulate the worries swirling around his head.
“Hey…” you reached a soft hand up to his cheek. “I’m not gonna leave you.”
Steve smiled at how you somehow could decipher the mess in his mind, but it quickly dropped into a frown.
“You say that now, but–“
“–Steve,” you interrupted. “The time we’ve had together,” you started, bringing your other hand up to cradle his face and force his eyes to lock to yours. “Has been the most amazing time of my whole life. God, I can’t even remember what it was like before I loved you, and I don’t want to imagine what it would be like after.”
That soft smile was back on Steve’s trembling lips.
“I don’t want there to be an after,” he said.
“There doesn’t have to be.”
You leant into each other like magnets, pressing your foreheads together.
Steve took a few deep breaths to center himself, feeling your presence anchor him. “Can we try this again?”
You giggled, “sure.”
You stepped away from Steve and composed yourself as much as you could, but the smile plastered on your face took over. You took his hand in yours and held it tight to your chest, right over your heart.
You opened your mouth to speak but Steve beat you to it this time.
“My sweet girl,” he tucked your hair behind your ear with his free hand, “I love you, so much.”
The moment made you instantly forget the panic that you felt just a minute ago.
“I love you too.”
As you said it this time, your voice was unwavering. There was no anxiety laced through it, just pure, reciprocated love.
When Steve crashed his lips to yours again, you didn’t miss a beat before kissing him back. His strong hands cradled your face as you ran yours all the way up from his elbows to the hair that fell over the nape of his neck. You were both smiling into the kiss as Steve walked you back to the kitchen counter. As soon as it dug into your back you gasped, opening your mouth, which Steve took as an opportunity to brush his tongue past your lips. His hands fell down to your hips to press you tightly against him.
“I love you,” Steve said between heated kisses, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”
You giggled agaisnt his lips as he kept up his loving words. “You don’t have to keep saying it.”
Steve broke away to look deep into your eyes. “Yeah I do. I’ve got all these ‘I love you’s built up inside me, I’ve gotta get them out.”
He lifted you up onto the kitchen counter but you were constantly tugging him towards your lips by the hair, he struggled to get you up. Steve’s hands flattened out over your thighs as he stood between your legs. His palms spread warmth over the exposed skin that your shorts didn't reach. You stroked your hands through his hair as the kiss intensified. Deep breaths into each other's mouths, little whines of satisfaction and wanting more. You reluctantly pulled back, Steve’s mouth tried to chase yours but you held his face between your hands.
There was one more question you had to ask. “When did you know?”
Steve was a little frazzled from your kisses and didn't quite pick up what you were saying at first.
So you elaborated, “I told you when I fell in love with you, now you have to tell me.”
Steve’s eyes lit up like he could see the memory replaying in his mind. “Do you remember when I picked you up for our first date?”
“Yeah, I recall,” you said, smiling uncontrollably wide.
“Do you remember tripping on the porch step?”
“Oh my God!” You brought your hands up to cover your face. “I was so embarrassed! I couldn’t stop thinking about it the whole night.”
Steve gently moved your hands out the way and kept them in his as he continued, “it was then.”
You looked at him with slight disbelief but mostly with complete awe.
“I just felt something when you grabbed my arm and I held you to stop you from falling face first into the gravel.” Steve chuckled and you mirrored the infectious sound. “I guess it was really me that fell, ‘cause I fell in love with you right there and then.”
“You mean,” you started speaking but had to pause for a second as you felt your mind, and heart, processing what Steve just said. “We’ve both been totally in love with each other since our first date and neither of us said anything?”
“Looks that way,” Steve shrugged.
“Wow, we are such idiots.”
“I think I prefer the term ‘hopeless romantics’.”
Steve’s hands snaked around your back, rubbing you through the soft fabric of your cotton t-shirt that was actually his.
You wrapped your legs tightly around him as you both pressed hard into each other. Steve leant slowly back in to kiss you, but you spoke before he could get there.
“Wait, you knew you were in love with me when you picked me up, but you waited all the way until you dropped me home to just kiss me?”
“Hey, I’m a gentleman. Isn’t that one of the things you love about me?”
“One of many.”
“Tell me more.”
Steve’s lips connected with yours again in a long, hot press of his supple lips.
“Well, I really love that,” you said.
“What about this…”
Steve gave the same treatment to your neck, just below your jaw. You felt the heat of his mouth radiate through you.
“Oh yeah, love that.”
“And this?”
Steve’s hips circled over yours and you felt the subtle hardness in his jeans press into your core.
Your eyes fluttered shut, a content sigh left your lips.
“Yeah, you love that,” Steve said on your behalf.
You matched his rhythm as you ground your hips against him. The denim of his crotch, rough over the thin material of your shorts.
“God, do you know the amount of times I had to stop myself from screaming ‘I love you’ during sex,” Steve said into your ear, his voice lower than before.
“Fuck, me too.”
You both rubbed agaisnt each other harder at the realisation that you had been holding back, and that you didn’t have to anymore.
“I love you, I’m gonna tell you all the fucking time, baby.”
You whined, whether from his words or the way pressure was building in your core, you didn't know, but it felt so good.
“Ugh, Steve, I love you too. Don’t ever stop saying it.”
Your hands roughly travelled up under Steve’s shirt and he took it as a signal that you wanted it off. You were both still desperately grinding on each other like you couldn’t even wait to get your clothes off to feel each other.
Steve then made quick work of your shirt, throwing it to join his in a pile on the tiled floor.
“I want you,” he murmured agaisnt your mouth before opening it wide over yours, making you do the same.
“Show me how much you love me, Stevie.”
The feeling of his hot hands running up your back to the clasp of your bra sent electricity all the way to your fingers and toes.
You two were so in your own world that you must not have heard the sound of keys jiggling in the lock of the front door to the small apartment.
“Woah!”
You both froze as you heard Robin’s distinctive voice enter the room. The front door opened straight into the living room, the small kitchen in full view. It must have been quite a sight to behold. You and Steve, both shirtless, hands grabbing, hips moving.
“Robin!” Steve yelled, using his bare torso to cover yours.
“You guys know we have bedrooms here, right?” She said, not sounding too fazed by what she walked in on. She had caught the two of you in far more compromising positions.
“Sorry Robin,” you said, although your voice held little remorse. “We got a bit excited.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Robin gestured towards Steve’s very obvious hard on in his jeans.
“Shit,” he muttered turning back to you to try and hide it.
“We just, uh, love each other a lot,” you told her, wanting to share the moment with the person who was witness to yours and Steve’s relationship as it bloomed.
“Wait, he finally said it?” Robin asked with a delighted look on her face.
“Well, she said it and then I was a total dickhead about it–“ Steve responded.
“–Total dickhead,” you added.
“But yeah, we said it.” Steve pecked your lips. “I have been telling Robin how crazy I am about you since that first date,” he said to you, his face close to yours like you were the only two people in the room.
“Really?” You asked him.
“Oh yeah, he’s been completely insufferable,” Robin confirmed, reminding you she was in fact still there.
“Aw,” you cooed at Steve.
You cupped his face and brought his lips to yours again, the rest of the world fading around you as you kissed him hungrily.
“Okay,” Robin clapped her hands together but it didn’t seem to have any effect on the two of you.
She turned around but could unfortunately still very much hear the sound of your lips smacking together.
“As happy as I am for you guys, I really don’t want to be in the building for whatever is about to, or is currently happening. So, why don’t I make myself scarce for, like, half an hour–“
“–An hour.” Steve broke away from you for a split second to correct her.
“Wow, okay, sure, whatever.” Robin walked back to the front door, grabbing her keys and opening it. “Just please, promise me you won’t do it there, that’s where we eat.”
“Promise,” you assured her, Steve’s lips now attacking your neck.
“Later, love birds!”
The door clicked shut and Steve let out a deep moan like he had been holding it in.
“Steve… C’mom, let’s take this to the bedroom.”
“No, here’s good.”
“I promised Robin,“ you whined reluctantly as you pushed his chest slightly away from you.
”I didn’t,” Steve smirked.
“She’s right, we eat here.” You gestured towards the kitchen island you sat atop. Steve’s half eaten sandwich to your left and your untouched one to your right.
A mischievous grin spread across Steve’s face.
“In that case,” he tugged at the waistband of your shorts, you in no way protested as he pulled them down and off your legs. “I better do this.”
Steve lowered himself to his knees, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. He placed a soft kiss to one of your knees before planting his large hands on the inside of your thighs and opening you up more.
As Steve’s head closed in on your core, you grabbed his hair, your other hand behind you on the cool worktop, allowing you to tilt your pelvis out for him. Nothing in your body told him you wanted him to stop, even if you were still hesitant with your words.
“Robin could walk back in.”
Steve placed a kiss to the damp patch in your underwear and held his face there as he hummed against you, the subtle vibrations flowing right through you.
“She won’t be back for an hour,” he mumbled, not quite able to move away from the part of you he was so close to tasting. “And I plan on spending that whole hour showing you just how much I love you.”
Steve’s hands moved up to pull your panties from your hips, down your thighs and off to join the pile of clothing that was building up. You were now completely naked in Steve’s kitchen, exposed to him in such a way that if it was anyone else you might feel shy. But Steve moaned just at the sight of you spread out for him. He was quickly back on you with his head between your legs, his hands on your thighs. You with your hands in his hair, pulling him closer against you. His mouth was hot, wet, desperate – just like you.
Something about knowing Steve loved you as he tasted you made it feel so much more euphoric, like you could feel the words on his tongue. It really didn’t take long for Steve to get you close to completely unravelling. Now that you didn’t fear the words escaping, you were much more vocal.
“God, Steve, ugh, that feels so good, you’re so good to me.”
And that seemed to make Steve even more ravenous.
“Want you to say it when you come, baby. I need to hear you say it.”
“I’ve wanted to for so long–ugh, fuck, I’m so close just like that Stevie, yes!
He sucked on your sensitive nub, every so often dropping his tounge to your hole, teasing it and tasting how he was making you feel.
“Steve… ah! I’m gonna come–ugh–I love you so much, so, so much.”
Steve mumbled, “I love you too”, against you as you came. Not that you could really make out what he was saying, but you got the idea.
He kissed your folds, along the inside of your thighs, before getting back up to face you at the same level.
“I do think I’m gonna need the bed for this next part,” he said with his mouth glistening.
“Oh really?”
“Hmm,” Steve hummed as he nuzzled his nose agaisnt yours. “I’m going to make slow, deep, passionate love to you.” He kissed you to share the taste of you. “I just wanna drown in you.”
Any air you had regained in your lungs seemed to leave it at his words.
“Steve.” You spoke his name like it was the only word left in your vocabulary.
He smiled against your lips as he lifted you off the counter and into his arms. You wrapped your legs around his waist and kissed him all the way to the bedroom.
When Robin returned, just over an hour later, she peaked throguh the front door hesitantly. She breathed a sigh of relief as she found nothing but the empty living room and kitchen. That was until she saw the pile of clothes on the kitchen tiles, your underwear at the top.
“These freaks,” she whispered to herself as she realised you definitely didn’t keep your promise.
She then heard a loud, ‘fuck’, come from Steve’s room, followed by a down right pornographic moan that was obviously you.
“Nope,” Robin said out loud to the empty room.
Once again, she grabbed her keys and hurried out the door.
“I really need to move out,” she muttered as she clicked the door shut, leaving the chorus of moans and expletives behind.
A/N: as if I got to over 400 followers before I got a chance to thank you guys for 300??? You lot are crazy I love it <3
mean!steve harrington x fem!reader
(18+; MDNI; 2.3k words)
Your asshole coworker is in a bad mood.
Maybe you can help.
cw: mean!steve, reader being mean back, blowjobs, face fucking, dacryphilia, maybe degradation if you squint, cumming in mouth, making out
-> big big thank you to jess and kelsey for offering suggestions/proofreading, to blaize for the advice, maddie for offering to proofread before we got sidetracked, and everyone else who was supportive as i kept yelling "what the fuck do i know about writing mean steve" <3 art is a collaborative process and this work has truly been a collaborative piece
masterlist || divider by @/saradika-graphics || ao3 link
By the time you stumble your way through the doors of the station — twenty minutes late, scarf tangled around your neck and coat slipping from your shoulders — you think that the worst part of your day is over. Even if your car stalled out several times on the drive to work, even if you somehow hit every red light in Hawkins, even if the military randomly closed a road that forced you to detour, you managed to make it to the Squawk in one piece.
And then you see Robin in the booth, cringing as Steve inaudibly rants about something, and you freeze. You know that look, and when she meets your eye through the glass and slowly shakes her head, your stomach drops completely.
Bad day, she mouths.
Which, honestly, could mean a myriad of things when it comes to Steve Harrington.
The humidity was too high? He was annoyed. The Colts didn’t win a game? He was sulking. The universe didn’t align to his every whim and need? He was pissed and he was going to make it everyone else’s problem.
And tonight, this was your issue, because you were scheduled to work the closing shift with Steve.
Great.
Robin says something to him that you don’t hear before slipping out of the booth, scurrying over to where you’re hanging your belongings up on the coatrack and hurriedly whispers, “He was up all night trying to find Dustin again, got no sleep. Rare form today.”
“I don’t understand how you’re friends with him,” you whisper back, letting your purse fall to the ground. “He’s an asshole, Rob.”
She makes a face, tilting her hand back and forth in the air as if to say, well…
“Steve’s a good guy when you get to know him,” she settles on saying. “Anyway, I have to run or I’ll miss my date. Have fun, be nice, and don’t kill each other, alright?”
“No promises,” you mutter, and Robin laughs as she skips out the door.
Steve is, if possible, even more irate when you slip into the booth, avoiding eye contact and gunning for the chair, hoping to keep conversation to the minimum for the next six hours.
He, on the other hand, has no such desire.
“Do you not know how to show up to work on time?” he huffs out. “Seriously, a couple of minutes is one thing, but half an hour—”
“And spend more time with your sparkling personality than I have to?” you snap without looking at him. “I think not. Besides, it’s not as though I suddenly have control over what the hell the military is doing.”
“It’s called planning,” he snarks.
You breathe in, once, sharply, and bite your tongue.
But Steve isn’t content to simply drop it, the way he’s never been content to drop it. And honestly, you don’t pretend to understand the intricacies of his life; You understand that he looks out for a bunch of kids, that one of them is in a coma, that another one is going off the deep end and taking all of his grief out on Steve. And at one point in time, that would’ve been more than enough for you to give him your deepest sympathies, to extend a level of grace only given to the most extreme of cases.
Except—
Then you’d met Steve, and he’d taken one look at you, wrinkled his nose, and asked Robin, “Did we really need to hire someone else?”
Your relationship hadn’t been anything better than adversarial ever since.
“—could take your job a little more seriously,” he continues to rant. “It’s not exactly like we’re flush with cash around here, and it’s not like there’s a shortage of people looking for jobs—”
The chair you’re sitting in scrapes against the floor as you stand abruptly, whirling around to find Steve standing entirely too close.
You see red, demanding, “God, what will it take for you to just shut up?”
Steve grins. “You could suck my dick.”
There’s a moment where the two of you are left standing there, chest to chest, nose to nose, and you can see the dare in his eyes. The tension in his shoulders, the set of his jaw. The fact that he doesn’t actually mean it, but he wants to push your buttons, to get you to react more than you ever have before.
He doesn’t have any intentions on you calling his bluff, and you’re determined to not lose this game.
“Fine,” you say sweetly. You move past him, snagging his wrist as you do. “But not in here. I don’t think Robin would be too happy if she found out.”
For the first time tonight, Steve doesn’t have a response. He doesn’t even fight you as you drag him along to a nearby closet, yanking the door open, shoving him in, and slamming it shut behind you. The room is plunged into darkness and you feel your way over to him, your fingers grazing the soft material of his sweatshirt.
His hands find your waist, skimming up your sides until his palms are pressed into your cheeks, his breath hot on your lips, but before he can get any bright ideas, you say, “I said I’d suck your dick, not make out with you.”
You can practically feel his frown as he shifts his hands back, tangling them with your hair.
“Fine,” he says shortly. “Then do it.”
That’s all the warning you get before you’re pushed to your knees.
You don’t waste any time reaching for his belt, undoing it with shaky hands as he continues to run his fingers through your hair, tugging at the roots the smallest amount when you pull his jeans and boxers down just enough to take him in hand.
A gasp gets caught in your throat when, even half hard, your thumb and pointer finger barely meet.
He lets out a throaty laugh. “Find something you like?”
“Fuck you.”
His fingers tighten in your hair. “Do you ever shut up? God.”
And as his thumb traces a path down your jaw, stopping just as it reaches your lips, you spit out, “Make me.”
His grip on your chin tightens as his thumb dips between your teeth, pressing down on your tongue and drawing your mouth open. Spit pools as you give him a few rough pumps, the tip of his cock jutting against your chin. He drops his other hand, then, placing it over yours as he taps the tip against your lips.
“Not so mouthy now, are you?” he says, pulling his thumb back and guiding himself in.
The heady taste of precome spreads across your tastebuds as he sinks into your mouth, his cock sliding over your tongue as you take him deeper. He lets out a low grunt, and for a moment, you wish that you’d had the foresight to turn the light on so you could see the face he’s making as he hits the back of your throat.
You gag and he lets out a quiet whimper as you pull back, instinctively looking up and wishing that he could see you as well. But even just hearing the sounds he’s making — you can imagine the wrecked look on his face, the flush spreading across his cheeks, and it’s enough to have arousal coursing through your own body.
(Because even though he acts like he has the power in this situation, you both know well enough that you’re the one wielding the proverbial blade.)
He guides you back down, muttering a curse when you take him just a little bit deeper, swallowing down your gag reflex as your hand twists around the base of his cock.
And for all of the hell you gave him over everything, you find that you don’t quite mind letting him set the pace. There’s something intoxicating about the precome spilling onto your tongue as you hollow your cheeks, smiling when he moans, and all at once, he grips you by the roots of your hair and thrusts in.
“You can take it,” he grunts. “Fucking know you can. Always mouthing off, always getting in my business — well you’re all quiet now, yeah?”
Despite yourself, you nod, your hands sliding down to hold his thighs as he fucks your face, tears welling int he corners of your eyes. It should be humiliating to let yourself be used like this, to let your asshole coworker treat your body like an object for his own pleasure, but it’s hard to feel embarrassed when all of this is turning you on as well.
One tear slips down your cheek, and then two, and in a move that’ll no doubt have you reeling for weeks, his hand finds its way to your face, his thumb gently wiping away the wetness gathered there, even as he continues to use your mouth for his own pleasure.
“Just like that,” he says, voice dropping. “You like this, don’t you?”
You hum around his cock, wrapping your arm around his leg to pull him in even closer, to take him even deeper. He swears loudly when the tip of your nose brushes against his bush, and you only manage to hold him there for a few seconds before you’re forced to release, dizzy as you gasp for air.
You sit there, panting, and before Steve can even move, you pull him back closer, desperate to take him even deeper — to take him all the way — to have the exhilarating feeling of choking on his cock pull you further into the depravity you’ve found yourself in. He makes a noise of surprise when you repeat the motion, your nose pressing into his pelvis as he mutters fuck fuck fuck, and you whine when he pulls you off.
“You wanna choke on it that bad, huh?” he asks, condescending and sweet at the same time. “Wanna cry some more for me?”
“Fuck you,” you say, already reaching for his cock again.
But he doesn’t let you.
One hand grips your hair even tighter as he tilts your head back while the other slaps the tip of his cock against your lips, saying, “Open up for me. Gonna see what that bratty mouth of yours can do, yeah? Gonna make me feel good?”
He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, though, before he bullies his way in, setting a brutal pace as he thrusts in and out of your mouth. More tears spill down your cheeks at the pressure, but there’s no part of you that can deny how good it feels either. To be used without care, to have someone’s aggression taken out on you. Your clit throbs at the thought of doing something more, of seeing what else he can do when he’s as pent up as he has been for months.
He laughs when you gag. “Who knew that all I had to do to get you to be a little nicer to me was use your mouth?”
You pinch his thigh in retaliation — you’ve been perfectly nice, thank you very much — and in response, he presses even further down your throat.
“Gonna let me come in your mouth?” His voice comes out a little more ragged, a little more choppy as his hips stutter.
You nod (as much as you can, anyway, with his thick length prying your jaw apart) and he makes a contented sound, smoothing your hair away from your face in a way that’s entirely at odds with how roughly he’s using your mouth.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “Thought so.”
His hand curls into your hair as he presses his front against your face, your nose grinding into it. You squeeze your eyes closed as the head of his cock nears the back of your throat, and then you feel it — the way he fills your mouth and throat, his come flooding it as he finishes deep within you. He pulls back and the last few spurts land on your tongue, mix with the rest already dripping down your throat, and your tongue presses against the underside of his length as you swallow.
You sit there for a moment, the only sound being made is that of your panting, before he pulls you up suddenly, fingers digging into your forearms, his lips crashing into yours. A startled noise escapes you as he presses you back into the wall, hands scrabbling for stability, and in the next moment, he finds the pull chain and the small closet is finally filled with light as he pulls back, his eyes dancing across your face.
“Fuck,” he gasps out, as though he has a reason to be out of breath. “Fuck.”
You open your mouth to retort, to say something, but he only pulls you back in for another kiss, his nose crushing painfully into your cheek and his tongue swiping against your bottom lip.
You let him in.
Steve, it seems, has no issue in tasting his own come in your mouth, eager and willing to explore every corner as you sink further into his hold, your own arms coming around to wrap around his neck. You feel him smile against you, and you can’t stop your own giggles from spilling out when he runs his tongue along the roof of your mouth.
And finally, finally, you pull away, chest heaving as you search his face, his brown eyes gazing at you with something more than thinly veiled annoyance for the first time, and a decision is made before you can think it through.
“If you need some stress relief again,” you say, grinning. “Let me know. Might be able to help.”
He huffs out a laugh, dropping his head against your shoulder.
“And next time I’m having a bad day…” You pry his arms from you and slip past him, cracking open the door just the tiniest amount. You glance over your shoulder to find him staring at you in open surprise. “I know who to call.”
A smirk spreads across his face just as you let the door swing shut behind you.
just read your ciggy anon blurb (10/10 stars from me)
on the topic of s5 steve not giving a fuck anymore but also being the most scared. maybe he’s be doing his whole degrading thing, and within a minute he’s speaking so sweet without even changing his pace.
a total contradiction between his actions and words, if you will.
18+ yes 100%!! I think that's exactly the contradiction that makes s5 Steve so compelling.
By s5, Steve's become someone who often presents himself as fearless (see: "aka, a job for good ol' Steve Harrington").
But privately, I think he carries more fear than anyone around him.
And the thing he fears most? It's losing people.
He's spent years watching the people he loves get endangered, disappear, move away, grow up, change, or slip beyond his ability to protect them.
His parents were never really there to begin with.
Nancy was the first person he genuinely pictured a future with, and he had to watch that future fall apart in real time.
Eddie died.
Max almost did.
Then Steve had to watch Dustin—this bright, relentless, wide-eyed kid he spent years protecting—come out the other side as a different person.
Even the others, all those snot-nosed brats he practically helped raise, don’t really need him the way they used to.
At a certain point, I think that kind of loss fundamentally changes a person.
It makes them reckless in some ways, but careful in others.
And I think that's what drives a lot of his behavior in s5.
Ultimately, Steve is someone who cares so much it probably gets exhausting for him sometimes.
For all his tendencies to act detached—snarky, cocky, stubborn, mean, bitchy, whatever you wanna call it—Steve has always been someone who loves people with his whole chest.
When he loves someone, he commits to them completely.
And when it comes to you, he's hopelessly attached.
So yes, when he fucks you prone—his weight crushing against your back as he grinds against your ass, buried so deep you feel him in your stomach—voice low in your ear when he asks if you can be a good slut for him—fuck, you just got so tight, baby. you like being my little slut? hm? gonna let me use this pussy whenever I want?—
When he yanks your arms over head, pushing his fingers into the space between yours, lacing them tight so he has all the leverage like this while he uses you—
When he leans down close, exhaling against your skin, nosing into your neck as he presses gentle kisses across your cheek—love you... love you so much. does this feel good? yeah? you gonna come for me, baby? that's it, good girl, let me feel you—all while fucking you so hard the bedframe thuds repeatedly against the wall, hard enough that the wallpaper’s gonna show it tomorrow—
You know it's because Steve doesn’t experience love in parts.
The lot is lit by two portable floodlights and whatever pale spill the moon is offering. Gravel crunches under boots. Radios hiss softly. Everyone’s moving with that quiet efficiency that only comes from doing this too many times.
You’re checking your pack when Steve steps in front of you.
Not blocking you. Just… there.
“I’m going with you,” you say, tightening the strap across your chest.
The words are calm. Assumed. This is how it always goes.
“No,” Steve says.
You pause, fingers stilling on the buckle. “What?”
“You’re not,” he repeats, voice even, eyes fixed somewhere just over your shoulder.
You frown. “That wasn’t the plan.”
“The plan changed.”
You glance past him, expecting backup. Robin’s busy with a radio. Nancy’s mid-argument with Jonathan. Dustin’s pacing, muttering to himself. No one’s paying attention yet.
You look back at Steve. “Why?”
He doesn’t answer.
That’s when you feel it, that tight, coiled thing under his skin. Not anger. Fear.
“Steve,” you say quietly. “Talk to me.”
He swallows. His jaw works once, like he’s biting back something softer.
“I don’t want you in there.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“It is to me.”
You take a small step back, searching his face. “You don’t get to decide this for me.”
“I do tonight.”
Your chest tightens. “Since when?”
“Since I’m done watching you play chicken with death,” he snaps.
The words hit harder than you expect.
You stare at him. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Something in your posture changes. You straighten, instinctively defensive. “I’ve done every crawl. I know the layout. I know the risks.”
“That’s exactly the problem,” he fires back. “You know them and you go anyway.”
You shake your head, incredulous. “So does everyone else.”
“Not like you,” he says.
The space between you feels suddenly hostile.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you don’t hesitate,” Steve says. “You don’t stop to think if you should be the one.”
“That’s not recklessness,” you say, voice sharpening. “That’s commitment.”
“No,” he says. “That’s you throwing yourself in front of things so no one else has to.”
Robin finally looks over. “Uh… everything okay?”
Steve doesn’t break eye contact with you.
“No,” he says flatly. “It’s not.”
Your stomach drops.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he continues, voice carrying now. “You slow people down.”
That one lands like a hard slap and you take a step back from him without thinking.
“Say that again,” you whisper.
“Every time you’re involved,” he says, forcing it out, “someone’s distracted. Someone’s worried about you instead of the job.”
Dustin freezes. “Steve, what the h-”
“I’m serious,” Steve cuts in. “We don’t need that.”
You laugh once, sharp and hollow. “You mean me.”
“Yes,” he says.
It’s a lie. A brutal one. And he delivers it like he practiced.
“You make things personal,” he adds. “And that’s dangerous.”
Your hands shake as you unclip the strap at your side.
“You’ve never said this before,” you say, quieter now.
“Maybe I should have.”
That’s when it really hits.
Your breath catches. Your shoulders curl in just slightly, like you’re bracing for another blow.
“So this is who you are?” you ask. “You wait until the last second to decide I’m a liability?”
Steve’s face flickers, his eye brows dipping slightly, pain, regret, gone as fast as it comes.
“I’m done catering to it,” he says.
You stare at him for a long moment.
Then you do something neither of you expects.
You pull the gun from your belt and shove it into his chest.
Not hard enough to hurt. Hard enough to mean something.
“Here,” you say. “Since I’m such a problem.”
Steve’s hands come up automatically, catching it.
Your fingers linger for half a second, and then you step back.
Further this time.
Like you don’t trust yourself not to fall into him if you stay closer.
Robin’s mouth is open. Nancy looks furious. Dustin looks like someone just kicked the air out of him.
“What the hell, Steve?” Robin snaps.
He doesn’t answer.
He can’t.
“Go home,” Steve says to you, voice low and final. “This isn’t your fight.”
You nod once.
Slow. Deliberate.
“You don’t get to tell me that,” you say. “But congratulations. You don’t have to anymore.”
You turn and walk away.
Not running. Not dramatic.
Just gone.
Steve doesn’t follow.
He stands there, jaw clenched so tight it aches, hands heavy around the weight of the gun you handed him.
Robin steps up beside him. “What did you just do?”
He exhales through his nose. “What I had to.”
Nancy shakes her head. “That was cruel.”
“I know.”
Dustin’s voice cracks. “She didn’t deserve that.”
Steve finally looks down, shoulders sagging just a fraction.
“I know.”
They don’t say anything else.
Because the truth is already sitting there between them:
Steve just torched something important on purpose.
Somewhere down the road, you’re driving with one hand tight on the wheel and the other useless in your lap, vision swimming just enough to make the headlights stretch and smear. You don’t pull over. You don’t slow down. You just keep going, letting the hurt sit where it landed.
Because if you stop, you might think too hard about what he said.
About how easily he said it.
Back in the lot, Steve is still standing where you left him.
The floodlights hum. Gravel shifts under boots as the others move around him, talking in low, urgent bursts he barely hears. Your gun is heavy in his hands, colder than it should be.
Can u write one where steve always acts like he understands wht reader muffled something incoherently in her sleep he goes yh yh or like I know right he just finds her cute and one day reader get to know abt it
Talk Nonsense To Me
Steve Harrington x fem!reader 600 words
warnings: fluff, sleep talking,
You’re mortified at the revelation of you talking in your sleep, luckily Steve thinks it’s the most adorable thing ever
It doesn’t take Steve long to notice. The first time it happens, your head is tucked against his shoulder, resting on his couch during a movie marathon you should’ve been awake for.
“Mff…no, ice cream doesn’t go on pizza…”
Steve blinks, shifting slightly but cautiously in order not to wake you.
“…Yeah, absolutely,” he answers without missing a beat. “The saltiness doesn’t go well with the sweetness.”
You don’t even hear him, just continuing to snore softly and go back to whatever debate you were having. And somehow, it becomes a thing.
Whenever you mumble nonsense in your sleep, Steve always answers like it’s second nature now, like you are having a totally normal back and forth conversation.
“Mmm, blue strawberries…”
Steve nodded, though that food made complete zero sense. “Sounds yummy.”
At first it had just made him laugh, but now it became something he would look forward to. You mostly talked about things you liked, rambling about every topic that filled your dreams.
One night, you were fast asleep while Steve was just listening soundly to your even breaths, holding you close against his own warm body.
“Steve…” you grumble, and Steve reacts with thinking, responding with muscle memory as if you're still awake.
“Yeah, baby?”
“I miss you.” His breath catches, your words catching him off guard. Even in your conscious you still longed for him, and though your physical form remains present, he longed for you even more.
“I’m right here, honey.” Steve whispers into the night, tucking you closer as if to reassure you that he wasn’t going anywhere.
But the only problem is that you don’t remember any of it, and Steve likes to keep that to himself.
It came to an end when Robin crashed your place in the morning, eating the breakfast Steve had made for you as he chatted loudly.
“She told me yesterday that she climbed the Great Wall of China." Steve said, just as you rounded the corner.
You froze in your tracks, he surely couldn’t have been talking about you, could he? “I told you what?”
Steve turned around casually, “what, do you not remember it?” He knew you of course wouldn’t have, but there was no harm in playing around with you a bit as he watched your expression turn more confused by the minute.
After a couple of moments, a horrifying realization spread across your face. “Wait—I had a dream about it.” You said slowly.
Steve grinned wickedly. “Uh huh, and you told me all about it.”
“You’re lying.”
“And apparently you enjoy blue strawberries.”
You cover your face with your hands as Robin bellows over in laughter. “That doesn’t even exist.” You said mortified.
Steve shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself. “According to you, it does.”
“Why have you never told me this?” You sigh.
“Because it’s cute.” He says without hesitation, making you pause.
“Cute?” Robin repeats, still having not recovered from her laughing attack.
“You mumble weird stuff, I answer. It’s our thing.” Steve says like it’s obvious, your cheeks flushing with the thought of all the possible things you could’ve accidentally confessed to in your sleep.
“You guys are sickening.” Robin cuts in, but none of you turn to look at her.
“So every time I talk nonsense, you respond…and you don’t think it’s weird?” You point at him.
“At first—strange, but I’ve gotten used to it.” Steve shook his head, his words coming out fondly.
You suddenly felt a rush of affection towards him, you wouldn’t know how to react if someone started talking to you in their sleep, but Steve hadn’t even mentioned it to you about it until now.
“But I guess my favorite one was when you said you missed me.” He winked slyly.
You immediately groaned, hiding your blush from him. At least he wouldn’t know even your dreams were consumed by the thought of him.
summary: steve can’t keep his eyes off his neighbor every time she goes for a night swim
warnings: smut, perv!steve, male masturbation, dubcon (?), peeping tom vibes, cursing
word count: 1.5k
from jen: i love this one so i hope you guys do too!! angst and maybe one more smut fic coming tomorrow. as always, with love <3
Look away. Look away. Look away. Look away.
Steve’s angel on his shoulder is screaming at him, begging for the man to listen but he doesn’t. He can’t.
Because less than a hundred feet away from him, you’re there. Carefree and beautiful, swimming and floating around in your pool.
Never mind that it’s almost one in the morning. Every night for the past two weeks, you’ve stepped onto your patio and swam laps around the pool while Steve watches from his window.
He can’t tell if it’s a blessing or a curse that his bedroom window has the perfect view of your backyard, and the pool you’ve occupied lately.
Steve doesn’t know you well. You moved into the house next to his only a few months ago – renting it from the Belmont’s he’s grown up living next to.
You seemed nice, kind even. On the first week, you had knocked on his door with a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. You introduced yourself with a dizzying smile, and a syrupy sweet voice – he physically had to stop himself from drooling.
And once you were fully settled in, your routine began. You worked at the diner in midtown, and he only knew that because saw you wearing the uniform dress and apron while he was checking the mail – not because he was watching you (he absolutely was).
You seemed to take the mid shifts for the most part. You left for work around 2PM and came home at 9PM, four days out of the week. He wasn’t sure what you did once you were home but once midnight hit, you were in the pool – every night like clockwork.
And tonight’s no exception.
Steve is standing in front of his window, far enough to not be seen unless you’re really looking, but still close enough to see you clearly. There’s not much light outside – most of it comes from the reflection of the moon and a warmer light you’ve installed in your own backyard.
You’ve been swimming for almost thirty minutes now and not once has his eyes wandered from the sight of you. Despite the darkness, he can see you perfectly. You’re floating on your back now and your body is on full display to him.
You’re wearing a red bikini and the color is so stark, it almost glows against the water. Your arms are moving slowly under the water to keep you afloat, your knees and ankles moving carefully to help tread the water.
He can’t tell if your eyes are open or not, and it’s hard to focus on anything except your tits.
Steve inwardly cringes at himself, and tears his eyes away from you – choosing to stare at a patch of carpet on his bedroom floor instead. He’s being disgusting and disrespectful. You’re in the comfort of your own home, doing something that brings you peace and he’s invading that. Even if you don’t know it.
He should close his blinds– no, he’s going to.
Just as Steve looks back up to close the curtains, his eyes land back on where you were floating but something’s different.
You’re still floating, easily treading water but this time, without your fucking top on.
Steve’s mouth goes completely dry and his already half hard cock, hardens even more – straining against the waistband of his sweatpants.
He sees the bikini top you had on barely two minutes ago now hanging off the small stonewall ledge of the pool. For a second, he wonders if you took it off for him. But that would be ridiculous. Surely if you had even an inkling of him watching you, you would storm right up to him and smack him across his face – probably yell obscenities at him, maybe even call the police.
Right?
Steve swallows harshly and despite telling himself to shut the blinds a few moments ago, he grabs the chair from his desk and slides it to in front of the window. He settles into it without much more thought and watches as you move through the water.
He knows he shouldn’t but all common sense has left his mind and has been overtaken by hunger. Steve’s hands find the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, swiftly tugging them down past his thighs.
The cool air hits his skin and just barely offers him some sense of relief. He can feel the bead of precum wet on his tip. Keeping his eyes on you, he raises his hand and carefully spits into his palm. He wraps his palm around his cock, slowly twisting his wrist as he jerks himself off.
“Fuck,” He breathes aloud. The relief is immediate, and even though he wishes it was your hand instead of his, he welcomes it.
His wet hand keeps working around himself, and he watches you descend under water. You stay under for a few seconds, long enough to make him miss you. Finally, you come back up, your hands raising to push your drenched hair away from your face.
Steve doesn’t even try to silence the moan that spills from his throat. His eyes follow the way the water cascades from down your face, down your throat, all the way till it falls over your tits. Your mouth is just barely hung open, very clearly so you can inhale fresh air, and water slides over your rosy pink lips.
Steve’s hand moves faster as he keeps his gaze glued to you. His room fills with the sound of his slick hand fisting his cock, his hand stroking himself up and down, up and down.
He whines into the air as you lean backwards again, your chest and torso displayed to him again and he’s so, so fucking grateful.
“Oh fuck, mhmm,” Steve groans, his hand moving faster. The lewd schlick sound of his wet palm stroking his cock surrounds him, it’s so loud he’s almost worried you’d be able to hear it.
His breathing getting heavier as he tracks the way you move. His eyes threaten to squeeze shut but he can’t bring himself to look away from you, even for a second.
You keep moving, slowly swimming from the shallow end to the deep end. Your body moves to effortlessly, so beautifully and his mind begins to wander.
He imagines how you’d look riding him. He imagines how your tits would bounce in clear view of his face, perfect for him to grab and squeeze as you fuck yourself on his cock.
His hand tightens around his shaft, a thin layer of sweat building at his temple. He keeps thinking of how you’d look as he fucked you.
He could fuck you in that same pool – push you against the stone wall, holding your hips in place as he fucks into you. He imagines every pretty sound that would slip past your lips, how you’d whine and beg for more.
“S-Shit. Yeah, just like that, baby,” Steve hisses as he moans mindlessly, his hand pumps his dick faster, rougher. He’s so close already.
He focuses back on you. You’re floating in the shallow end again, and Steve’s gaze is fixated on the way your hand rises out of the water, the tips of your fingers gently gliding across the west skin of your stomach, up the valley of your breasts, carefully circling the skin around your nipple.
His hand is frantic now, stroking himself relentlessly as he stares at you. He’s a moaning, blubbering mess as he watches the way you touch yourself. It’s a show perfectly made for him.
Steve felt that rush of adrenaline coursing in his veins, traveling through his chest and all the way down to his cock. He was right there, and as he watches you emerge from the pool – water soaking your tanned body, droplets sliding down your skin, he’s thrown over the edge.
His stomach tightens, head thrown back as he whines your name into the air. He barely has time to throw his shirt upwards, exposing his stomach as warm ropes of cum spurt from his cock, coating his skin.
His chest heaves, and he keeps his hand moving over his skin, drawing out his orgasm. It takes him a few seconds for the ringing to leave his ears and come back to reality. His hand uncurls itself from around his dick, and he lets it drop against his sticky stomach.
Steve tracks you as you step out of the water and reach for a towel. He’s sad as you cover yourself up, but as his mind catches up with his body, he realizes he should feel guilty. His face burns with shame and he moves to clean himself up.
He grabs a few napkins from his nightstand, wiping his cum off his skin, and tells himself this was a one time thing and it will never happen again.
All the while, you continue to dry your own skin off, with a devious smirk covering your face because you got exactly what you wanted. The same fucking show he did.
Summary: Steve discovers that if he plays with your hair for long enough, you will fall asleep on him every single time.
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, no use of y/n, established relationship, fluff, sleepy affection, domestic intimacy, kissing, touch-starved steve harrington, comfort fic (lmk if i missed anything)
W/C: 1.2k
Read more of my writing here: [masterlist]
You’re both sprawled across his couch after a movie, the living room lit only by the television and the warm orange lamp beside the window. Rain taps softly against the glass while some terrible late-night advert mutters quietly in the background now that the film’s ended.
You’re tucked against his side beneath one of his old blankets, half talking about something Robin said earlier while Steve absentmindedly plays with your hair.
Not even consciously, really.
Just something his hands started doing at some point during the relationship and never stopped.
Twisting soft strands around his fingers. Scratching lightly against your scalp. Pushing hair back away from your face whenever it falls forward.
Steve likes touching you. This is not exactly new information.
What is new is the fact your voice suddenly cuts off halfway through a sentence.
Steve glances down.
You’re asleep.
Completely asleep.
Mouth slightly parted against his shoulder, breathing slow and even, one hand still loosely curled in the fabric of his t-shirt.
Steve blinks once.
“…seriously?”
You do not respond, mostly because you are unconscious.
Steve stares at you for another few seconds before looking down at his hand still buried in your hair.
Interesting.
The second time it happens, he starts suspecting a pattern.
You’re sitting between his legs on the floor of his bedroom while he half watches a movie over your shoulder and half messes with your hair mindlessly. You’d insisted you weren’t tired less than ten minutes earlier.
“You literally slept till eleven,” Steve reminds you while separating sections of your hair carefully.
“I know,” you mumble. “That’s why I’m not tired.”
“Hm.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“You like me.”
“Unfortunately.”
Steve grins slightly to himself before dragging his nails lightly across your scalp again.
Your shoulders loosen immediately.
Another few minutes pass.
Then, nothing.
No response to his last comment. No movement either.
Steve leans slightly sideways to look at your face properly.
Dead asleep.
Again.
Still sitting upright between his legs.
Steve laughs so suddenly he nearly wakes you back up.
“Oh my god,” he mutters quietly.
By the fourth or fifth occurrence, it becomes less of a coincidence and more of a genuinely ridiculous amount of power for one person to hold.
Especially because Steve starts testing it.
Not maliciously.
Scientifically.
“You’re doing it on purpose now,” you mumble one afternoon, already sounding half asleep despite having argued thirty seconds earlier that you were “definitely awake.”
Steve, stretched out beside you on his bed, continues scratching softly through your hair with an expression of complete innocence.
“Doing what?”
“The hair thing.”
“What hair thing?”
“The…” You frown weakly. “The sleepy thing.”
Steve bites the inside of his cheek hard trying not to laugh.
Because it really is absurd.
You could be fully awake, actively talking, even complaining about not being tired at all, and within ten minutes of Steve touching your hair for long enough you’re suddenly fighting for your life trying to keep your eyes open.
“You’re being dramatic,” he says.
You squint at him suspiciously through obvious exhaustion. “You’re evil.”
“Mhm.”
“You’re like…” Another yawn interrupts you completely. “Like a tranquiliser gun.”
Steve loses it completely at that.
You fall asleep less than five minutes later with your face squashed into his chest while he quietly laughs into your hair.
After that, it becomes sort of unavoidable.
Steve starts noticing all the tiny signs before you even realise you’re tired.
The slower blinking. The way your body gradually gets heavier against him. The increasingly delayed responses during conversations.
And every single time, without fail, the second his fingers slide into your hair properly, you melt.
On the couch.
In bed.
Once in the passenger seat of his car while he waited for Robin to come out of Family Video after locking up.
Another time at the Wheeler’s house with your head in his lap while everyone else argued loudly over a board game around you.
“You cannot be serious,” Dustin says, staring at your sleeping form in disbelief. “How does she keep doing that?”
Steve barely looks up from where he’s still lazily playing with your hair. “Doing what?”
“She was literally talking.”
“Yeah?”
“And now she’s unconscious.”
Steve shrugs like this is completely normal behaviour.
Robin narrows her eyes immediately from the opposite couch.
“Oh, this is definitely psychological.”
Steve scoffs. “What does that even mean?”
“She’s associated you with sleep now.”
“That’s not a thing.”
“It absolutely is,” Robin says. “You Pavlov’d your girlfriend.”
“I did not Pavlov my girlfriend.”
“You basically turned yourself into a human melatonin gummy.”
Steve rolls his eyes, but his hand never stops moving gently through your hair.
Mostly because Robin’s not entirely wrong.
There’s something about the trust of it that affects him more than he expects. The fact you fall asleep so easily against him. The way your whole body relaxes the second he touches you softly enough.
Like some part of you recognises him as safe before you even consciously think about it.
That part gets to him a little if he thinks about it too long.
Which is why he tries not to.
Unfortunately for him, you make this extremely difficult one rainy afternoon a few weeks later.
You’re both curled together in his bed while thunder rumbles softly outside, Steve lazily tracing shapes against your scalp while you blink sleepily up at him.
“You know,” you mumble eventually, “I think my body’s accidentally been trained.”
Steve grins immediately. “Finally admitting it?”
“This is your fault.”
“My fault you’re always sleepy?”
“My fault for trusting you enough to fall asleep this much.”
The smile slips slightly from Steve’s face at that.
You notice immediately, even half asleep.
“What?”
Steve looks down at you quietly for a second before shrugging one shoulder.
“Nothing.”
“Steve.”
His fingers slow slightly in your hair.
“It’s just…” He huffs softly through his nose. “I dunno. Kinda nice, I guess.”
Your expression softens immediately.
Because there it is.
The actual thing sitting underneath all the teasing.
Steve likes being trusted.
Likes being needed in these tiny quiet ways that nobody else really notices.
The way you automatically reach for his hand crossing roads. The way you sleep better beside him. The way you unconsciously move closer every time you’re tired.
You shift upwards slightly against his chest until you can kiss him properly.
Steve kisses you back slowly, one hand still tangled gently in your hair.
“I genuinely think this is my favourite thing.”
Your lips twitch.
“Me falling asleep?”
“No.” Steve smiles faintly. “You trusting me enough to.”
Something warm twists painfully through your chest.
You kiss him again before you can think too hard about it.
Steve’s fingers slide slowly through your hair once more afterwards, scratching lightly against your scalp in that familiar absentminded rhythm.
Dangerous.
You narrow your eyes immediately. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“You know exactly what.”
Steve looks deeply unconvincing. “I’m just touching your hair.”
“You’re literally weaponising affection.”
Steve starts laughing quietly while you attempt to glare at him through increasingly heavy eyelids.
“You’re already falling asleep,” he says.
“No I’m not.”
“You just blinked for like six seconds.”
“That means nothing.”
Steve grins down at you, still gently combing his fingers through your hair.
“You’re done for, sweetheart.”
You open your mouth to argue.
Then immediately yawn instead.
Steve looks so unbearably pleased with himself that you weakly shove at his chest in protest.
It does absolutely nothing.
Mostly because less than ten minutes later, you’re asleep against him again.
And Steve, unfortunately, looks far too happy about it.
☆ SUMMARY: Months after Jack broke your heart, you attempt to move on by going on a date. The problem? You run into your ex-boyfriend before you even make it out of the parking lot.
☆ CONTAINS: Ex!Jack, younger, fem!reader, dating app slander, mentions of shooting someone. No descriptions of readers' appearance, except that hair is put up while at work, wearing makeup and a dress.
☆AUTHORS NOTE: Whipped this up in a day in an attempt to get the creative juices flowing! Almost done with school for the summer, so hopefully I can get back into writing<3 Is it meh? Yes. Is it also a start? Yes! PS. I have a 1K special up where you can request some things, so check it out if you’d like!
☆ PAGE DIVIDERS BY: @sweetmelodygraphics
“So, a little birdie told me someone's got a hot date tonight?”
The teasing lilt in Trinity Santos' voice does not go unnoticed by you, even after hours of saving lives and being slammed with paperwork as a reward.
That's healthcare for you.
“I’m going to shoot the little birdie,” you scoff, rubbing your eyes rougher than one probably should. “And it’s definitely not a hot one,”
“But it is a date,” Trinity perks up, a cheshire like grin forming on her face while she spins the chair you're sitting in and charting to face her. “Tell me everything– who is he, how did you meet, what are you going to wear–”
“Okay, slow down!” A small laugh unfortunately manages to escape you, and you don’t know whether to be touched or offended over the fact that she was this invested in your love life. “There’s nothing to tell, I haven’t even met the man yet,”
“Oh, ew,” she immediately says, grimacing in disgust, “You met him on the apps? That’s low, even for you babe,”
You stare at her blankly, momentarily stunned.
“Desperate times means desperate measures,” you finally say, officially finishing charting and logging out of the computer. Standing up, you start making your way towards the lockers, Trinity's excited voice following behind you.
“I mean, not that desperate. I know one man that would go out with you in a heartbeat,”
Opening your locker, you take out the little duffel bag you had to bring into work today. In order to make it to the date on time, you’d have to get ready at work, and as much as you hated drawing attention to yourself, you wouldn’t have time to make it back home.
So you’d done your hair the night before, hoping for the best when you tied it up for work, shoved your makeup kit, as well as your dress and heels into a bag and made your way to work.
This was also the exact reason you had asked to get out before handoffs. And Robby owed you just enough favors to let it slide, but not before giving you a suspicious look. You knew better than to tell your ex-husbands best friend– and by default spy– why you suddenly needed to cash in on those very handy, very hard earned favors.
“Yeah, and me and that man are broken up for a reason,” you snort, promptly shutting down any insinuations and blaming it on her sleep depravity.
Slipping off your scrubs, you falter when you hear Trinity snort at the action.
“Excuse me? What happened to privacy–”
“Alright, alright– sorry!” She amends, throwing her hands up in defeat and turning around.
But the sound of her laughter is already replaying in your mind and you huff at your own insecurity, crossing your arms.
“What is it, Santos?”
Immediately turning back around, Trinity gives you a sheepish smile, before her eyes dart to you, still standing in your underwear.
“Are we, like, super committed to the granny panties?”
You gasp, throwing your scrub top at her face when she speaks.
“Rude! They’re not granny panties, they’re just, you know…” you defend yourself, digging through your duffel for your dress. “Comfortable. They’re comfortable, Trinity,”
“That’s kind of the problem, babe. You’re going for sexy and alluring– not comfort! Trust me, I’m the last person to tell someone to change for a man, but those–” she points an accusing finger at your matching set, “Are just one big turnoff, my friend,”
You groan, running a hand through your hair.
“You cannot be telling me this right now. I don’t have any spare underwear with me– are you sure you’re not just biased?”
Trinity gives you a sad look, then walks to the door, peeking her head around the corner.
“Mohan! Get in here–”
You gape, quickly tugging your work pants back on and crossing your arms over your chest.
“What the hell? Hello, I’m like naked in here–”
“Oh calm down, we’re doctors,” Trinity waves you off, and before you can say anything else, Samira Mohan walks into the tiny excuse of a locker room.
Her eyes dart between Trinity and you, before going down to your chest, where a very sturdy looking bra is in place.
“For the date tonight?” she says carefully, noting the agitation on your face and the amusement on Trinity’s.
“Does everyone know?” your answer confirms her words, and Samira gives you a gentle smile, officially dismantling the last irritation in you.
Slumping against the lockers, your head hits the metal with a small thump!
“Okay,” she finally says, adopting the same, comforting tone she uses when explaining treatment plans to patients, “I don't think they're bad,”
“You lie, sweet child of mine,” Trinity sighs dramatically, crossing her arms when she looks back at you.“Literally just go commando at this point,”
Shaking your head, you snap out of your haze, going back to your bag and digging your dress out.
It’s not like you’re going to sleep with the man.
You weren’t ready for that just yet, your mind echoes to you, but you quickly stop the spiral you feel forming.
If you were still with Jack, you wouldn’t have to worry about first dates and underwear–
Okay, no.
“Zip me up please?” is what you say instead, looking between the two women helplessly.
Noticing your sudden quietness, Trinity obliges and does what you ask. The zipper slides up your back smoothly, and for once, she’s quiet.
“Hey, come on,” she says softly, giving your shoulder a squeeze once she's finished. “You look pretty,”
Samira nods, taking a hold of your other shoulder and leading you to the mirror, a small smile on her face as you watch her reflection watch you.
“You look good,” she says simply, in a way she knows does more of an impact on you than an overflow of compliments would.
Your eyes linger on your reflection, smoothing down any crinkled pieces of fabric as an attempt to self soothe. But there was something deeply humiliating about standing in a hospital locker room, while two coworkers attempted to convince you that you weren't a complete disaster.
Admittedly, you do agree. You looked pretty wearing something other than scrubs and letting your hair down for once– hell, even applying new lipstick makes you feel reborn.
Taking one final look, you straighten your shoulders before walking back to your bag and taking your heels out, putting them on and shoving your bag back into the locker and dumping your dirty scrubs into Trinity’s arms.
Payback for the panty comments.
“Wish me luck, ladies,” you say, the small purse you’d brought with now swinging on your shoulder.
“Knock him dead, babe!” Trinity grins, and Samira gives you a supportive thumbs up beside her.
Twenty more meters and you're out of here, on your way before anyone can properly see you.
You take a deep breath, trying not to cringe or look at people as your heels click against the linoleum floors. The doors to the ambulance bay hiss when you step through them, a small sigh of relief escaping you once the evening breeze washes over your face.
Rounding the corner towards the parking lot, a yelp escapes you when you crash into someone.
“Shit!”
Strong hands grab your arms before you can stumble backwards and crack your skull open on the pavement and die in your granny panties.
“Christ, slow down,” a familiar voice mutters and your stomach instantly drops.
Fuck.
The last person you wanted to see, the reason you were leaving work thirty minutes early and watching your back like a criminal, instead of a grown woman simply going on a date.
Jack Abbot, in all his fine glory, dressed in one of those tight, white shirts he loves and his usual cargos.
His hands are still wrapped around your arms, your own are still gripping his forearms, far too close for your already scrambled mind to be able to handle right now.
Pulling away, you quickly smooth down your dress once again, clearing your throat.
“Hi! Uh– nice catching up, I should probably–” you laugh awkwardly, motioning vaguely with your hands towards your car.
Jack doesn’t say anything, his eyes unabashedly travelling across your body. First your styled hair, then to your painted lips, then to the dress, gaze lingering on your exposed legs.
“You’re awfully dressed up for work,” He mutters dryly, head tilting once his eyes lock with yours once again. “But I suppose this wasn’t how you came in at seven am,”
“Wow, nothing gets past you, huh?” you can’t help but quip, ignoring the warm feeling in your belly at the sight of him fighting a smile at your words.
The evening breeze catches a loose strand of your hair and blows it across your face. Before you can move it away, you notice Jack's hand twitch, but ultimately stay rooted by his side.
"Clearly not. Are you going to answer or keep being a smartass?”
Against your will, a small smile forms on your face, and you shake your head and cross your arms.
“I should be on my way to a date,” You finally concede, gauging his reaction.
Yeah, to see if he even cares anymore.
Unfortunately, as Jack glances toward the parking lot before looking back at you, he asks:
“Is he not picking you up?”
For some reason, his words send a wave of embarrassment through you. Like you have to prove to him that you’re not going out with a piece of shit, like you’re not downgrading, or settling, or desperately trying to get over Jack by going on shitty dates.
“It’s the first date, I’m not having him know where I work,” you mutter petulantly, shifting on your feet, the pain growing more intense the longer you stand there. “That’s just common sense,”
Jack hums thoughtfully, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants.
“You’ll have to excuse my ignorance, then. I haven’t been on a proper date in a while,”
Asshole.
You know he’s talking about your relationship, that petty bastard.
“And who’s fault is that?” the words come out sharper than intended, but you’re too deep into this to notice, or even care about it.
“You know, normal people would just let it go,” Jack muses, eyes narrowed in amusement as he takes a step closer to you.
“Normal people also don’t interrogate their ex in the parking lot,” you retort, chin raising defiantly as your irritation spikes at his indifference towards seeing you moving on.
You’d once heard a rumor of another attending on the surgical floor reportedly laying it on pretty thick at some gala.
It had you eating ice cream for dinner for a week, just the thought of him moving on from you that easily.
Your phone buzzing in your purse fills the silence, and you’re suddenly made aware of the entire reason you're standing here in a dress and heels instead of driving home to watch terrible reality television.
“I should go,” you say quieter than intended, clearing your throat afterwards.
The amusement fades from his face, replaced by something harder to read, and for a moment, Jack doesn't say anything, his eyes flickering to your purse and where your phone is buzzing.
A cruel reminder to him of the fact that you indeed are moving on, probably with some guy your age that wouldn’t have to worry about how you’d look walking down the street with him.
“Yeah, don’t let me keep you,” Jack mumbles, shifting on his feet as he follows you with his head when you walk past him slowly.
Your heels sound against the pavement, the loud clicks taunting in his ears, like a clock reminding him of the time he's running out of, both in life and with you.
“Fuck,” He mutters under his breath, scratching the scruff on his face harshly, before walking after you. “Hey, wait–”
“I really have to go, Jack,” you don’t stop walking, in fact speeding up a bit.
You couldn’t trust yourself around him.
“You don’t even know this guy!” Jack throws out in a desperate attempt to get you to stay, to make you argue with him, anything to make you stay– to choose him again, even if it only were for a moment.
You stop so abruptly your heel almost catches on a crack in the pavement, before you’re whirling back to glare at him.
“Are you serious right now?
Despite your anger, Jack can’t help but notice how pretty you look while glaring at him, and even though he'd be six feet under if looks could kill.
“I’m just looking out for you,” He has the nerve to say, shrugging slightly while he walks up to where you’ve come to a stop.
“I don’t want you to look out for me! You wouldn’t need to if you hadn’t–” you stop yourself from lashing out, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. “...Why are you doing this?”
“I’m worried about you, I mean– leaving work early, dressing up, then running straight into me because you aren’t paying attention–” Jack lists, the lies falling from his lips unconvincingly.
You scoff, turning around and walking back towards your car.
“Goodbye, Jack,”
Panic fills his veins, and his hand shoots out and grabs your arm, pulling you towards him.
“Fuck, okay! Alright, just–” Jack sighs, running his free hand through his silver curls, “Just wait, okay? Don’t just…go,”
“Then tell me why you’re being like this,” you press him again, impatiently.
Jack takes it as a small victory when you don’t rip your arm out of his grip.
“I don’t want you to go out with him,”
“You don’t even know him–” you roll your eyes at his shitty explanation.
“I don’t want you to go out with anyone,” Jack interrupts, jaw clenching as he forces the words out. “I don’t want to see you laugh with anyone, or leave work early because you’re seeing someone, or see you get dolled up for another man,”
The words echo in the empty parking lot and land bitterly in your ears.
Your mind couldn’t help but betray you at this moment.
Why wait until now? Is it to make sure his words are devastating enough? To make you lose the progress you thought you had made after he broke your heart?
Was it really all his fault if you could let yourself be this affected by his words?
“You’re such an asshole,” you say shakily, eyes welling up with unshed tears.
Jack nods, a bitter smile forming on his face.
“Yeah, I know,”
He doesn’t argue with you, because he agrees.
He is an asshole. A selfish, greedy asshole who wants nothing more than to get on his knee and grovel at your feet, because the biggest mistake he’s made is thinking that letting you go is an act of love.
Over the fear of what others might think.
Over the fear that there will come a day where instead of him taking care of you, you’ll be taking care of him, while he takes advantage of your youth, all while knowing you’d be too sweet to leave him.
Jack stares at you, your teary eyes and trembling lips, he stands there and he stares at the woman he still loves.
“I’m fucked up, I know. But every morning I wake up and you're still the first thing I think about,” he begins, swallowing thickly when he feels a lump form in his throat. “I look for your car in the parking lot before I walk in. I mean fuck, even at handoffs, I look for the charts that have your signature,”
The tears are definitely ruining your makeup now. You were late beyond belief for the date, and the buzzing in your purse had ceased ten minutes ago.
And yet you have no urge to go anywhere anymore.
“That’s kind of sad,” you sniffle, muttering weakly.
Jack chuckles weakly, fingers tightening around your arm before he reluctantly lets go.
“It’s really fucking sad,” he agrees easily, resisting the urge to wipe the tear tracks off your face.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” you meet his gaze at last, and Jack sees the confusion and fear in your eyes that comes with the possibility of forgiving him, or letting him make it up to you.
“I don’t know, I just…” he begins,“I couldn’t let you leave thinking I didn’t care. That I don’t care,”
“Do you think your age is secret or something?”
Jack blinks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“What? No–”
“Do you think I didn’t see the grey hair, and wrinkles, and the glaring at screens before we got together?” You continue, stepping closer to him, gaze landing on the evident smile lines, and signs of his life actually being lived.
“You’re making me sound worse than I am,” he grumbles quietly.
“And what really sucked is that you thought I hadn’t already thought of all that when we started this, that there would come a time when you needed me more than I needed you. You keep acting like you lured me into a relationship with you, and acting like I didn’t consider any of it,”
Your voice is steady when you speak, finally wiping the tears away as your feelings spill, the weight on your chest lightening up with each word you speak.
“I saw it. I saw it and I still chose to be with you, so I really don’t understand what favor you thought you did me when you ended things,”
Jack is silent, for once. No sarcastic quip, no flirty deflection– he just stands there and lets the words sink in, feeling incredibly stupid.
He knew you were bright, incredibly empathetic and intuitive. Of course you hadn’t just thrown yourself into this blindly. You’d chosen him on purpose, and Jack was too blinded by his own fears to let you love him the way you wanted to. In turn, he’d hurt himself, but most importantly, he’d hurt you.
“I may have overestimated my own charm,” he says, sounding almost embarrassed.
Despite the earlier tension, his words make you laugh softly, and Jack perks up like he’s been rewarded with something.
“For what it's worth, breaking up with you was the stupidest thing I've ever done,” Jack adds, lips stretching into a tight lipped smile, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes, still stubbornly resisting the urge to just give in to him.
“You’re still not fully forgiven,”
“I know,” He nods solemnly.“I’d love it if you did, but I know you can’t, and that’s okay,”
“And you have a lot to make up for,” you continue, not letting up. You had, after all, been tortured for months.
“I do,” Jack says instantly, the answer coming so quickly it almost throws you off.
After everything the two of you had been through, it felt like a step in the right direction. A moment of tense silence ensues, and you know it’s because Jack doesn’t want to immediately jump back into things and make it seem like he's brushing things under the rug.
You decide to throw him a bone.
“...You’re way too old to be playing with people's feelings,” You finally joke, and Jack bites his lip until he’s unable to hold the grin back any longer.
“Hey, that’s still a sensitive topic,” He tuts, a faux hurt expression forming on his face. “And if I’m so old, I guess I won’t be able to drive us to that restaurant you like so much?”
Your eyebrows raise in suspicion.
“That’s real cute, but don't you have work?”
“Robby owes me one,” He shrugs, hand landing on your waist, “Besides, we can’t have this dress go to waste, right?”
You let him lead you towards his car, the smile on your face growing wider at his ridiculousness.
“I suppose not,”
And for the first time in months, Jack didn’t feel that sharp, stinging in his chest whenever he took a breath.
hii can i request one where joe and reader got into a relationship recently, and they sleep together cuddling, he loves whispering sweet nothings to her. Joe wakes her up by giving her small kisses all over her face its just so cute and they’re so in love
"Lazy morning love"
⋆⭒˚.⋆ Joe Keery x reader ⋆⭒˚.⋆
english is not my language please be kind and sorry if i wrote wrong :) requests are open if you want!
summary: honeymoon phase with Joe
warnings: fluff
The soft glow of the city lights filtered through the half-drawn curtains of Joe's apartment, casting gentle shadows across the king-sized bed where you and he lay tangled together.
It had only been four months since you officially became a couple, but it felt like the universe had been aligning for this moment your entire lives. The kind of love that snuck up quietly, then hit with force and impossible to ignore.
You'd met Joe at a mutual friend's birthday party in a cozy Brooklyn brownstone, he was the guy in the corner with the easy smile and the laugh that made everyone turn their heads. You were the one nursing a cup of beer, debating whether to slip out early.
He noticed you first, offered a genuine compliment on the vintage band tee you were wearing, and the conversation flowed like it had been waiting years to happen. By the end of the night, numbers were exchanged and by the second date, you knew this was different, by the fourth, you were spending nights at his place, and he at yours.
Now, here you were, deeply, stupidly, wonderfully in love.
Joe's arm was draped heavily over your waist, his chest pressed firmly against your back in a perfect spoon, his breath was warm and steady against the nape of your neck, ruffling the loose strands of hair that had escaped your messy bun.
The room smelled like him and the faint trace of the Thai takeout you'd shared earlier, your legs were intertwined, one of his knees slotted between yours, anchoring you to him even in sleep.
The duvet was kicked down to your hips, but neither of you minded the slight chill because the warmth between your bodies was enough.
He had whispered to you as you drifted off, like he always did.
Joe loved sweet nothings, they weren't performative or scripted, they poured out of him naturally, like he couldn't contain the affection bubbling inside his chest.
"You know," he'd murmured earlier that night, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as his fingers traced lazy circles on your hip under your oversized sleep shirt, "I used to think falling in love was this big, dramatic thing. Like in movies but with you... it's quiet. It's waking up and already smiling because I know you're next to me. It's the way my heart does this stupid flip every time you laugh at my terrible jokes."
You'd hummed contentedly, pressing back into him, feeling the solid strength of his body. "You're such a sap, Joe."
"Only for you," he'd replied, kissing the spot just below your ear.
"My beautiful girl, my favorite person in the whole damn world. I love the way you crinkle your nose when you're thinking hard. I love how you steal my hoodies and pretend you didn't. I love that you make me want to be better every single day."
His voice had grown softer, slower, until it blended with the rhythm of his breathing. You'd fallen asleep to the sound of it, cocooned in safety and adoration.
Now, in the hazy early morning hours, the first hints of dawn were creeping in.
Joe woke first, as he often did, he didn't move right away.
Instead, he lay there for long minutes, simply holding you, his eyes traced the curve of your shoulder, the way your lashes fanned against your cheeks, the soft parting of your lips.
Love swelled in his chest until it felt almost too big to contain.
How had he gotten so lucky? four months, and he already couldn't imagine a morning without this.
Carefully, so as not to startle you, he shifted, he propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand coming to rest lightly on your waist.
Then he began.
The kisses started feather-light, barely there. First on your forehead, right at the center, lingering for a heartbeat, then the bridge of your nose. He smiled against your skin when you made a tiny, sleepy sound. Next came your left eyebrow, then the right, each kiss deliberate and tender. He moved to your temple, pressing his lips there like he was sealing in a secret promise.
"Mmm," you stirred slightly, but didn't wake fully.
Joe's heart melted as he continued his gentle assault: a kiss on your cheekbone, then the apple of your cheek. He nuzzled there for a moment, inhaling the faint scent of your lotion. "Wake up, my love," he whispered, voice husky from sleep. "The world's been waiting fro you" he said, plressing another kiss, this one on the tip of your nose.
You scrunched it instinctively, and he chuckled low in his throat, a warm, rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest into yours.
"That's it," he encouraged softly. "Come back to me, baby."
He kissed your other cheek, then along your jawline, slow and reverent.
Your eyelids fluttered, consciousness returned in soft waves, the feeling of his mouth on your skin, the solid warmth of him beside you, the deep affection in his tone. When his lips finally found yours in the gentlest of kisses, you smiled into it.
"Joe..." you murmured, voice thick with sleep.
"There she is," he said, pulling back just enough to look at you, his eyes were bright, even in the dim light, crinkled at the corners with pure joy. "Good morning, beautiful. Did you dream about me?"
You stretched lazily, your body arching against his, and wrapped your arms around his neck. "Maybe, or maybe I didn't need to dream because the real thing is better."
He groaned happily and rolled you both so you were half-draped over his chest, his hands roamed your back in soothing strokes, slipping under the hem of your shirt to trace your spine.
"God, I love you."
The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours but was probably closer to thirty minutes, cuddling, trading lazy kisses, whispering.
Joe told you about the dream he'd had: the two of you on a beach somewhere warm, no responsibilities, just sun and salt air and each other. You shared how safe you felt with him, how the rapid pace of your new relationship didn't scare you because it felt right.
"I keep thinking it's too good to be true," you admitted, tracing patterns on his collarbone with your fingertip. "We've only been together a little while, but it feels like I've known you forever."
"Because we fit," he said simply as he captured your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing each knuckle. “I love the way you challenge me to think deeper, and how patient you are when I ramble about my work projects. I love your voice first thing in the morning, all raspy and soft. I love…"
You cut him off with a kiss, deeper this time, pouring your own feelings into it. When you pulled away, both of you were breathing a little heavier.
"I love you too, Joe, so much it makes me feel a little crazy sometimes."
He grinned, that boyish smile that made your stomach flip.
"Crazy is good, I want all your crazy."
Eventually, hunger won out.
Joe reluctantly untangled himself but not before stealing a few more kisses across your face, quick, playful ones that made you giggle.
"Stay here," he ordered gently. "I'll make breakfast."
You watched him pad out of the bedroom in just his boxers, admiring the lean muscles of his back and the way his hair stuck up adorably.
The kitchen sounds drifted in: clinking pans, the hum of the coffee maker, his off-key humming of some indie song you'd played on your last date.
When he returned, he carried a tray loaded with scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, and two steaming mugs of coffee. You sat up against the headboard, and he joined you, setting the tray between you.
Breakfast in bed turned into an extended conversation about everything and nothing; your plans for the weekend, a funny story from his friends, how you wanted to redecorate your living room. All the while, his hand never left yours or your thigh, like he needed the constant physical reminder that you were real and his.
After eating, you curled up again, this time, you were the one initiating the cuddles, resting your head on his chest and listening to his heartbeat. It was steady, strong, and completely tuned to you.
"I could stay like this all day," Joe said, his fingers combing through your hair.
"Then let's," you replied. "The world can wait."
He laughed softly and tilted your chin up for another kiss, this one lingered, full of promise and depth. When it broke, he rested his forehead against yours.
"You make every ordinary moment feel extraordinary… I never want to lose this feeling."
The morning stretched on with more of the same, sweet whispers, stolen kisses, laughter that echoed off the walls. Joe recounted the exact moment he knew he was falling for you: it was during your third date, when you'd reached across the table to wipe a bit of sauce from his lip without thinking, and the casual intimacy of it had floored him.
"You weren't trying to impress me or anything," he said. "You were just... taking care of me. In that tiny way and I thought, 'Yeah. This is someone I want to build a life with.'"
Tears pricked your eyes at the sincerity in his voice, you kissed him hard, then softer, then not at all, just holding him close.
"I felt it too, that same night, when you walked me home and didn't try to come up. You respected my pace. It made me trust you completely."
Hours passed in a blissful bubble. You talked about future dates: a weekend getaway upstate, trying that new Italian place downtown, maybe even a trip abroad someday.
The love between you wasn't just words or gestures, it was in the way he instinctively knew when you needed space or closeness. It was how you could communicate with just a look, it was the quiet comfort of shared silences and the electric joy of shared laughter.
By afternoon, you'd migrated to the living room couch, still in your sleep clothes, wrapped in a blanket together. A movie played in the background, but neither of you paid much attention, Joe had you pulled onto his lap, facing him, your knees on either side of his hips and his hands rested on your lower back, thumbs stroking soothingly.
"I love whispering to you," he said, leaning in so his lips were at your ear again. "Because when I do,it's just us, and I get to tell you all the things my heart's been saving up."
He proceeded to do exactly that, listing a hundred tiny reasons he adored you. On and on, until you were both laughing and emotional and kissing again.
This was the honeymoon phase, yes, but it felt deeper,like the beginning of something that could last.
As the sun dipped lower, painting the room in golden hues, Joe pulled you even closer. "Thank you for choosing me," he whispered.
"Thank you for making it easy to," you replied.
You fell asleep again that evening, cuddling on the couch this time, his arms around you like a shield and when night came fully, he carried you back to bed, kissing sofly your forehead, tenderly and full of wonder.
Because this was your new normal, alove story written in soft touches, murmured words and closeness… and it was only just beginning.
summary: you have a nightmare about your boyfriend dying and it prompts you to start reflecting on your relationship
wc: 2.1k
warnings/tags: pure fluff, boyfriend!gator, nightmares, imagined violence and guns, implied sex, gator learning physical intimacy :)
a/n: i had a bad nightmare today and im so gator pilled i immediately thought of his reaction. enjoy!!!
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You didn’t wake suddenly. There was no gasping for air, no cold sweats. It was slow. The fade to black at the end of an episode, leaving you on a cliffhanger. But you knew what was coming after the nightmare ended. You’d seen it clear as day. That gun. All you were left with was a slow, coiling feeling in your gut that you were hyper-aware of.
Reluctantly, you blinked your eyes open, only to be greeted by the dark open space of your room, images still flashing even then. For a moment, you wondered if you were alone. But then you heard the heavy breathing next to you, and the slightest amount of tension released. Your boyfriend was fine, and fast asleep next to you. And that was rare. You closed your eyes again, praying it would go away. That you could just bury yourself deeper under your blanket and drift back to sleep. But it didn’t work. All that played in your head was that gun. Pointed at Gator. The slow-motion as the man pulled that trigger. In your own home. Your throat felt dry, and your stomach continued to twist.
You threw your eyes open again, a frustrated exhale falling from your nose. Maybe it was the wide open space in front of you. Even though you could feel Gator’s presence behind you, you couldn’t see it, and that was making you paranoid. It was like…bad chi or something. The problem was, Gator was the lightest sleeper you’d ever met, and with the late nights and early mornings, you knew he barely got the chance to even try. Slow as you possibly could, you turned yourself around. Still, the bed shook. Once you successfully turned over to the other side, you watched with baited breath. But Gator didn’t stir. Not once. You had to smile, as you watched his figure rising up and down with each deep breath he took. He was ok. Better than ok, he was finally, truly, resting. So why was your body still reeling like he wasn’t? You wanted so badly to pull him close and breathe his scent in just so you could prove that to yourself. But you weren’t the type of couple to do that and you couldn’t wake him up.
You tried to shut your eyes again and basked in the warmth of Gator’s body next to yours, pretending that sleep would come to you. But you sensed the air, and the distant calling of birds, and knew that no such thing would be happening. Especially when you heard the buzz from the nightstand, indicating it was time for Gator to wake up. You kept your eyes closed as you heard him stir beside you. Even though the relationship was still somewhat new, having a boyfriend that was constantly waking up at the crack of dawn for work, you’d gotten used to sleeping through his departure. And right now, as you felt him flip over, pause for a moment and then press the lightest peck on your forehead, you were almost glad to not be.
Most of the time, Gator wasn’t great at the physical affection — the cuddling, casual hand holding, and kisses were all so alien to him, considering where he’d grown up. You knew that it felt like giving a piece of himself away. That’s why a moment like that, and the naturalness with which he did it, warmed everything inside you. You listened quietly as his feet hit the ground and he padded out of the room with all the grace of a bull in a china shop, holding back a smile the whole time. He trudged through the house, footsteps far too heavy, but the moment he stepped back into your room he was softer, movements more careful. Still way too loud but you appreciated that he was trying.
It was when the sunlight began leaking through the windows minutes later that you finally decided to sit up, the warmth of your blanket slipping away as you glanced to where Gator was slicking his hair back. You stared at him, there — all done up in his uniform, the gun sitting on his thigh. You couldn’t believe he had to go out and face this shit everyday. Specifically because the most dangerous part of his job, was the man he worked beside. It came to you again, and you took a deep breath to try and push the worries back. It was just a stupid nightmare. Not real. Not real. Not real.
“You’re awake?” The sound of Gator’s voice snapped you back into reality as he walked over to you.
You just hummed, rubbing at your eyes to get out of your still half-dreaming state. “Want me to make you some food before you go?”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” You could already spot the panic behind his eyes, and you knew he was dreading the day ahead. You were too.
“You sure? You should have breakfast.” You tried, desperate to keep him here — safe — for as long as you could.
“I’m fine. Already late. ’S the weekend, you should sleep.” He muttered, eyes flying over the room to check he had everything. In his mind, he was already at Roy’s feet, responding to whatever orders were given.
You sighed defeatedly, leaning back on the headboard. “Alright.” But you couldn’t resist, balling a fist into his shirt, and pulling him close.
“What are you-“ You cut him off with a hard kiss to his lips. When he tried to pull away, you only pulled him back for another and another and another. He smirked against your lips. “Someone’s feelin’ clingy today.”
Usually, you would roll your eyes and shove him away lightly, but today you only whispered. “Promise me you’ll be safe.” He nodded, dumbfounded by your seriousness but too preoccupied to question it. You didn’t take your eyes off him as he stepped out of the room, and as you heard the front door open you sprung to your feet, tracking every step from there to his cruiser through the window. Your eyes didn’t leave the street until the car was a tiny speck in your vision.
It was just a stupid dream.
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You’d spent the entire day doing everything you could to forget. By the end of the day, you had deep cleaned your house, reorganized the pantry, and finished about five pages in some mindful coloring you’d scrounged up from the back of your closet. You weren’t feeling very mindful every time you would flinch at random sounds you heard or jump to check any notifications on your phone, wondering if it was Gator. You even called him at lunch, “just to check in.” He’d only laughed and told you to hold tight until he got home. That was hard when it felt like you were falling apart at the seams.
After an eternity, night finally came. Gator promised he would be home in time for dinner but it was nearing nine and he hadn’t been able to answer your messages. You sat at the dining table, staring down the lasagna you’d made just for him, which was definitely going cold.
The knock on the door hit like a hard smack.
That’s how it started. In the dream. Some guy knocking furiously at that door again and again. Gator telling you to hide as he stalked towards the noise. The slam as it came off it’s hinges, and before you knew it, the gun at his face. Your throat felt dry at the thought.
“Baby, it’s me. I forgot my keys.”
At the sound of Gator’s voice, all the tension in your body released and you sped for the door. You’d barely opened it halfway before you were dragging him inside, and pouncing on him, lips tracing across his cheeks and neck. He caught you instantly, wrapping your legs around his waist and stumbling to the nearest wall. “What is with you today?”
“You hungry?” You asked, cutting straight to the chase. He shook his head. “You tired?”
And he immediately picked up what you were putting down. “Not for you, mama.” He smirked, guiding you back to your room.
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This was the part that you hated most. The awkward after. Especially after today, all you wanted to do was just be wrapped up in his arms, or better yet, wrap your arms around him. Just something solid. But instead, the two of you lay next to each other, catching your breaths as you stared up at the ceiling. You felt the mattress dip as he turned over to face you.
“You’re bein’ loud.” He muttered, and you turned over to him then, genuinely offended.
“What? I haven’t said anything.”
“Whatever’s going on in that pretty little head of yours is doing all the talking. Somethin’s been bothering you all day.” His eyes scanned over your face slowly, like he was genuinely worried.
“It’s nothing Gator.”
He responded with a drawn out, “Mhmmmm,” and you wanted to be mad but he learned that from you. Just as you were about to turn back to the ceiling, he reached for your arm, keeping you still. “What’s going on, sweetheart?” He was so quiet when asked, that you had to give in.
“I…had a nightmare.” You felt your cheeks getting warm as you said it. All this over something that happened in your mind. “There was this guy and I- He killed you, Gator. It just had me spiralling a little bit.”
His eyebrows furrowed and you could tell it was taking everything in him not to laugh. But he was resisting. “That’s what you were scared about?”
“Yes- I mean- Yes.” You caught yourself before you admitted it, not wanting to push his boundaries. Gator, on the other hand had no such idea in mind.
“What?” He leaned a little closer. You shook your head. “No come on, you were going to say somethin’ else.”
You sighed. He was your boyfriend, right? The whole point was to be honest. But you were certainly going to avoid eye contact as you said it. “When it happened, the first thing I wanted to do was like, hold you.”
This time, he did laugh. “Hold me?”
You were in too deep to back out now right. “I just worry about you, sometimes, Gator. You have a dangerous job and if something happened to you… I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You mumbled. “It feels nice to y’know, be in your arms or have you in mine. Know you’re still here.” You cringed as you said the words, but they were true. Your eyes stayed focused on where your fingers were twisting the bedsheets, much like the way your stomach was twisting as you waited for his response.
It came moments later; a small exhale and a whispered, “Ok.”
“What?” You glanced up, eyes going wide as you realized he was being serious.
“I said ok.” He adjusted himself so that he was laying on his back, arms outstretched.
“I don’t want to pressure you into any-”
“Baby, shut the fuck up, and get in my arms.” You didn’t have to be told twice, you settled your head on his chest and swung a leg over his, while his arms came to wrap around you. And god, it felt so nice to hear the steady thump of his heartbeat, breathe in his aftershave, feel enveloped in his warmth.
Still, his body seemed stiff. “Are you sure this is ok?”
“I want to do this.” He mumbled, wrapping his arms around you a little tighter. “I’m just…” His chest rose and fell underneath you as you took a deep breath. “I’m not used to it.”
Your heart split in two hearing that. “I’m sorry baby.”
He didn’t respond to that. “But let’s get somethin' straight…you ain’t holdin’ me, I’m holdin’ you.”
You chuckled, your hand running gently down his front. “Sure, Gator.”
Soon enough, his muscles were loosening a little, and his breath slowed down. He buried his nose in your hair, snuggling closer. “Your hair smells nice.” He mumbled. That, in Gator speak, was akin to “I like this.” And he must have, because bit by bit, he started initiating contact more — an arm around you when you made breakfast in the morning, or keeping his hand on your thigh while driving. Little things. But those little things were big to a man who had never known them before. And you were glad, more than anything, to give him a place where he could feel safe.
Summary: You and Steve accidentally spend an entire party hiding in the kitchen together, making fun of strangers, stealing food from the fridge, and slowly realising neither of you wants to be anywhere else.
Warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, no use of y/n, fluff, mild yearning, friends to lovers vibes, making out (lmk if i missed anything)
W/C: 1.7k
Read more of my writing here: [masterlist]
Right now, you couldn't recall why you decided to come to this party in the first place, even if your life depended on it.
By ten-thirty, somebody has already thrown up in the upstairs bathroom.
Not discreetly, either.
There’s a line outside the door, somebody arguing over whose turn it is to hold a girl’s hair back, and music rattling hard enough through the walls that the cabinets hum faintly every time the bass kicks in.
You abandon the living room right after witnessing a guy attempt to open a beer bottle with his teeth.
The kitchen is quieter.
Not quiet exactly. Just survivable.
And Steve Harrington is standing in front of the open fridge eating slices of ham directly out of the packet.
He looks up as you walk in.
There’s a beat of silence.
Then, “Oh thank god,” he says immediately. “A normal person.”
You burst out laughing.
Steve points the slice of ham at you accusingly. “Don’t laugh. You’re the only person here not currently trying to impress somebody.”
“That’s because I gave up fifteen minutes ago.”
“Smart.”
He shuts the fridge with his hip before wandering toward the counter, still chewing lazily. His sleeves are pushed messily to his elbows already, hair slightly damp from summer heat and too many people packed into one house.
“You hiding in here?” you ask.
Steve glances vaguely around the kitchen. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Same.”
“Cool.”
Neither of you leaves.
The kitchen becomes your spot after that. At first, it’s just somewhere quieter to stand while you both recover socially. People drift in and out constantly around you, grabbing drinks or ice or more alcohol before disappearing back toward the noise again, but neither of you really moves from where you started.
Steve ends up sitting on the counter at some point while you lean against the opposite side nursing the same drink for nearly half an hour.
“Okay,” he says eventually, nodding toward the living room doorway. “Red shirt guy.”
You glance over. “What about him?”
“He’s told that story three separate times.”
You snort immediately. “No he hasn’t.”
“He absolutely has.” Steve points vaguely with his beer bottle. “Watch. He’s about to mention the fishing trip.”
Right on cue, “-and then the fish snapped the whole line-”
You stare at Steve in disbelief while he looks unbearably smug about the whole thing.
“Oh my god.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ve been monitoring him?”
“There’s nothing else to do here.”
You laugh again, softer this time, and Steve grins automatically at the sound.
God.
He’s unfairly charming when he’s relaxed like this. Not performing or trying too hard. Just warm and funny and slightly bitchy in a way you’re beginning to enjoy far too much.
Another group pushes noisily into the kitchen a few minutes later. One girl opens the freezer and immediately shrieks.
“There’s literally no vodka left!”
Steve mutters under his breath, “Tragic.”
Your shoulders shake violently trying not to laugh while the girl slams the freezer shut dramatically before storming back out.
The second she disappears, both of you completely lose it.
“You’re awful,” you laugh.
“She was acting like somebody died.”
“She looked genuinely devastated.”
Steve wipes at his eyes dramatically. “Thoughts and prayers.”
An hour later, both of you are sitting cross-legged on the kitchen floor eating tortilla chips from the bag. Neither of you remembers how this happened exactly.
The party’s louder now. Hotter too. Music vibrates faintly through the cabinet doors behind you while somebody somewhere nearby yells along badly to the chorus currently playing.
Steve nudges your knee with his. “That guy’s been trying to flirt with Robin for like forty minutes.”
You glance toward the hallway. “Oh my god. The guy in the leather jacket?”
“Yeah.”
“He keeps leaning against walls weirdly.”
Steve demonstrates immediately, slouching sideways against the cabinet beside him with an expression so aggressively serious you nearly choke laughing.
“That is EXACTLY what he looks like.”
“I know.”
“He thinks he’s being smooth.”
“He looks like he’s trying to sell her cologne in a department store.”
You laugh hard enough that your shoulder knocks against Steve’s accidentally, but neither of you moves away afterwards. In fact, Steve sort of… stays there. Your shoulders still touch lightly while he steals another chip from the bag in your lap.
Interesting.
You become increasingly aware throughout the evening that Steve Harrington is a very tactile person. Just casually. His knee bumps yours when he laughs, his hand lands absentmindedly on your ankle while reaching past you for his drink, and at one point, he brushes crumbs off your shirt without even thinking about it.
Like touching you has already become instinctive somehow.
The thing is that you don’t think he even notices he’s doing it.
You definitely notice, though.
Especially when he laughs at something you say and grabs your knee automatically. Especially because his hand stays there a second too long afterwards.
“Okay,” Steve says seriously two beers later. “Worst song ever written.”
You gasp. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s not.”
“It absolutely is.”
Steve points at you dramatically. “Everybody says that until they hear the right answer.”
“Go on then.”
Steve thinks hard for a second before answering, “We built this city.”
You stare at him. “You’re insane.”
“That song sucks!”
“It’s fun!”
“It's so... much.”
You blink. “…what does that even mean?”
“It sounds like a cigarette commercial.”
You laugh so suddenly you nearly spill your drink, and Steve immediately starts laughing too despite himself, head tipping briefly back against the cabinets.
Warm kitchen light catches against his throat when he laughs like that.
You suddenly become very aware that Steve Harrington is pretty.
Annoyingly pretty.
You’re still looking at him when his eyes flick back toward yours again. Something shifts slightly.
Steve’s smile softens around the edges. “What?”
You blink once. “Nothing.”
“You’re staring at me.”
“You were making a weird face.”
“That’s so mean.”
You grin slightly into your drink while Steve keeps looking at you for another second anyway.
Then Robin walks into the kitchen.
She stops dead instantly, eyes flicking between both of you sitting shoulder-to-shoulder on the floor before narrowing suspiciously.
“Oh my god.”
Steve frowns. “What?”
“You’re gazing at each other.”
Both of you answer at the exact same time.
“We’re not.”
Robin looks deeply unconvinced. “You’re literally sitting on the kitchen floor alone together at a party.”
Steve gestures vaguely around. “We’re people-watching.”
“You’re flirting.”
“We are not.”
Robin stares at him flatly for a second before saying, “Steve, your hand is on her thigh.”
Silence.
Steve looks down immediately.
His hand is, in fact, resting warm and casual against your thigh. Neither of you has any idea how long it’s been there.
“Oh.”
Robin makes a deeply satisfied noise.
“Oh my god,” Steve mutters weakly while you try very hard not to laugh.
Robin points between both of you accusingly. “I’m leaving. But when you inevitably make out in here later, I want credit for being right.”
Then she disappears back into the party before either of you can answer.
Silence settles briefly afterwards.
Steve still hasn’t moved his hand.
“That’s embarrassing,” he mutters eventually.
“A little.”
“I genuinely didn’t notice.”
“I know.”
Steve glances toward you carefully then. “…should I move it?”
Your stomach flips unexpectedly.
You look down at his hand against your thigh before shrugging lightly. “I mean… you don’t have to.”
Steve goes quiet for a second.
Then, very slowly, “Oh.”
And suddenly the kitchen feels warmer than it did before.
The party starts thinning out sometime after 1 a.m. People leave in noisy groups while others pass out upstairs or drape themselves dramatically across living room furniture.
You and Steve stay exactly where you are.
At some point he ends up leaning back fully against the cabinets beside you, one knee bent lazily while your shoulder stays pressed against his.
“You know,” he says eventually, voice quieter now, “this is the longest I’ve willingly stayed at a party in like… years.”
“Yeah?”
Steve hums softly. “You’re distracting.”
The words land gently between you. Not jokey. Not entirely serious either. Just honest enough to make your chest tighten slightly.
Outside, crickets hum loudly through the open kitchen window while warm summer air drifts through the screen. The kitchen feels strangely separate from the rest of the party now. Smaller somehow. Quieter. Like the night narrowed slowly down to just this.
Steve looks tired suddenly. Not in a bad way. Just softened around the edges by the late hour and warm air and beer and laughing too much.
You realise, with startling clarity, that you could stay here talking to him until sunrise and not get bored once.
Steve’s gaze drops briefly toward your mouth before lifting back to your eyes again, careful, like he’s checking whether he imagined that thought passing across your face too.
“You know,” he says quietly, “I think this is the first actual conversation we’ve ever had.”
“That’s probably concerning.”
“A little.”
“And yet here you are.”
Steve smiles faintly. “Yeah.”
Neither of you moves.
The silence stretches.
Then, softly, “Can I kiss you?”
You nod before you can think too hard about it.
Steve kisses you carefully at first, like he’s still figuring you out. Warm mouth, slow hands, the faint taste of beer and salt from stolen tortilla chips lingering between you. One of his hands slides lightly against your jaw while the other braces against the floor beside your knee.
You kiss him back and feel the exact moment he relaxes into it.
The second kiss is different. Still soft. Just less careful now.
Steve exhales quietly against your mouth like something inside him has unclenched.
When you finally pull apart, neither of you moves very far. His forehead brushes yours briefly before he lets out a quiet laugh under his breath.
“You know what’s really embarrassing?”
“What?”
“I think this might actually be the best party I've ever been to.”
Your chest tightens unexpectedly.
You smile slightly anyway. “That is embarrassing.”
“I know.”
But he’s smiling too when he says it.
Outside the kitchen, the party keeps going without you.
Neither of you seems particularly interested in rejoining it.
It was weird, really. Something she couldn't understand. How he, the man she fought so hard for; against all will and expectations, now was nearly a stranger to her eyes.
She had met him about three years ago, at a friend's birthday party.
He was smooth, neat, confident in a way that was partly dangerous, partly suffocating.
His words were quick, raspy. He knew what he wanted and she found herself quickly at his door, pressed against the dark wood by his warm, toned body.
They hit it off very well. He was sweet to her, caring for others, adorable in front of her friends. Almost perfect.
He would make coffee and smile faced pancakes every morning for her. He would love to pick her up after work and they would drink cheap beer at a park in the middle of the night. She would sneak in between his arms when she returned home from a hard shift, finding herself asleep in less than five minutes.
And the sex, God, the sex.
He was a crazy scientist, a perfectly composed man who knew what he was doing. A great teacher when it came to letting her know how he liked to be touched, sucked, ridden. And she was eager to accomplish.
When things got way too serious, he talked, and she listened. He wanted her, every part of her. Even the ones she didn't liked.
She reciprocated; even when she was scared to the core, insecure of things that hadn't crossed her mind in years, doubting if maybe he was too good for her.
But when she had to fight her own family, her blood, to maintain what meant true love for her, that's when she knew nothing else mattered.
Nor her parents, who were very disappointed to hear that their only daughter was dating an old war doctor who was taking advantage of her. Nor her own dark and hurtful thoughts of herself. Nor the bad payment at her crazy job every night.
So when he started being cold, and distant, and quiet, she didn't understand.
He was a sweetheart, the perfect man, but now a stranger.
The perfect charming chef every morning replaced by a blank face and no-sugar coffee.
The out of tone singer in the middle of the road now a quiet shadow across the seat.
The midnight lover who couldn't get enough from between her legs, sat on his side of the bed with his glasses on and staring at his phone. No kiss goodnight, no mischievous look, no wicked grin.
So she fought, again. Like she did when her father said "you're too good for him."
She decided to be loud, to let him know that it was scaring her. This new behavior, the cold tone when she called his name. It was so out of him.
At first it was pathetic. It was like she could stare at herself from above, watching her figure become a needy lack of person, asking, begging for attention. And he wouldn't reply. He would claim that he didn't understand, there was nothing going on.
She pushed. Every word, every touch, every silent stare.
Then the hypotheses came. She thought that maybe he got tired of her. Maybe he didn't wanted this simple life. Maybe he didn't pretend for this to go further. Maybe he didn't wanted her anymore. Maybe there was someone else.
And he payed attention.
The way her hands would go restless under the table when he didn't spoke. The way she tensed up every time a friend asked "how you two doing?" The way she sighed when he rolled over in bed and turned off the lights without a kiss goodnight.
When she got tired of trying, that's when it seemed like he was back from some imaginary cage, glowing with care.
He would stop by at her favorite flower shop and buy her Lilies, slamming the door with a smile on his face and a kiss on the cheek.
He would make dinner reservations and wait for her in his best outfit, complimenting her hair, her dress, her perfume.
He wouldn't keep his hands off of her in their way back to the car, leaning over the console to kiss her neck and slide his hand under her dress to make her come for the first time in weeks.
He would say sorry. For being an ass, for being distant, for not being the man she deserved.
And she believed it. Every second of it.
She would called it a 'false alarm' at brunch with her best friend. Of course they weren't going to broke up, he just needed to see.
But it was there, the slight fear of the coldness and quiet to come back, crawling from the darkness to conquer his frame once more.
She payed attention. Every time he made a weird face when she said something, when he looked so out of the conversation it made her want to slap his face, when he didn't smile at her compliments.
They would fight, over everything and nothing at the same time.
Food getting cold, wine getting spilled.
She would scream and cry that he wasn't the same anymore.
He would get angry because he knew she was right.
They would end up in bed, as always. His legs spread out and her mouth full of him. She'd give the best heads of his life, if anyone were to ask him.
She would let him come in her mouth and swallow it whole, like a secret seal she chose to believe.
He would cup her face and kiss her lips, tasting himself in her mouth and wiping her tears off her cheeks with his thumbs.
And again, it was weird. How the next morning she would say to her friends it was nothing. A stupid fight over a dumb situation.
Even when they were hanging by a thread too thin to be stable.
first jack "imagine" kinda nervous 🙏🏻
let me know what you think! english is not my mother language, sorry if there's any grammatical errors
kianamaiart
dailybridgerton
yousharknotpass
snowghoul
baratheonpilled
prguitarman
