#Steve Harrington x y/n

[luveline]

hi again!! i saw you mention wanting to write for prince!steve, and i also saw that you write with dialogue prompts so i present to you:

A: “I’ll take care of you.”

B: “It’s rotten work.”

A: “Not to me. Not if it’s you.”

maybe the reader gets injured doing something for training, but it’s all up to you!! i’m sure we’ll love it regardless. kisses!!

thank you for requesting! —prince steve au. fem, 1.5k

Pain was familiar before you came to the palace. Small pains and big, all kinds of hurting, poverty-driven neglect leading to toothaches and back pain, twisted ankles walked on without choice, sore skin otherwise ignored. It didn’t matter if you got hurt as long as you lived. 

Not in a dramatic sense. It didn’t feel dramatic at the time, only miserable. You go to work with a migraine because you can’t afford not to. You walk home in the dark because the mag-trams are getting too expensive. You break your holo, so you make do without one. You pick your head up to keep looking both ways and you get everywhere you need to go because you need to work, to get paid, to eat, to work. 

That’s how it always was. So getting sick didn’t matter. An injury was temporary pain that your body would fix eventually, and if it didn’t, well, it’s cheaper to pull a tooth than pay to have it filled. 

You were used to your sorry life, and then you met Steve. Tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed Steve. Looking at him sometimes is enough to make your whole body a void for things you used to complain about; you wake up across from him in the big bed and forget you can feel pain at all, if only because he’s already awake, waiting for you to open your eyes before he rests his hand on your cheek. You met him and your soul-mark glowed with a lacy, almost feathered light, your wrist braceleted with white colour that soon faded to mellow blue. 

When you first meet your soulmate, the colours you make tend to shift. It takes time for your heart to decide if love is pink or orange or blue. It seems to have settled now —when Steve kisses you, your mark turns a Gaussian amber. When you kiss back, his mark turns light pink, like the lotus flowers he keeps in his private gardens. 

Right now, your mark hums an angry red. It’s typical in its colour, and it’s common. Most people’s marks turn red when they’re hurting. Yours is a crimson so dark it looks black in the dim lighting, and it throbs in time with your pain like a vexing metronome. You’ll never be able to put it from your mind if the mark continues to remind you. 

Steve is uncharacteristically quiet at your side. His own mark is lit in sympathy, mostly pink with his affection, but threaded in red like spider lily flowers blooming against his forearm. 

He shifts beside you. It’s been more than a month since your wedding, and yet he’s careful with you. Almost shy, though he can be brash and cocky. You know intimately how sweet Steve can be when he’s in love. 

It doesn’t make any sense. 

“How’s the pain now?” he asks, his eyebrows pulled together at their starts. 

“Not so bad.” 

“Could you rate it on a scale? If zero was no pain at all, and ten were enough to warrant another dose of white willow bark?” 

“What if I were at a five?” you ask. 

“A half dose and a good kiss?” 

You turn his way but flinch when it puts undue pressure on your leg, a stab of hot pain jumping from your fractured tibia to deep inside of your hips. Steve sees your wincing and presses your shoulder into the bed, leaning over you, a scolding he doesn’t give in the pinch of his eyebrows as he leans down to kiss you. It’s more caress than kiss, his hand cupping your cheek, his lips barely touching yours before he rests his nose at your brow. “Can you stay still?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

“Just don’t want you to hurt yourself again.” 

He lifts his head. Holds your cheek for longer than you can work out why, dotting another soft kiss to your nose before slinking out of bed to find you some white willow bark tincture. It’s a potent pain reliever. You shouldn’t have too much of it. If you were still living your past life, you’d be chewing on ginger skins trying to limp your way back into work. There’d be no time to stop. 

“Steve,” you say, watching him a small ways away at the table of your quarters. He turns to you. “I don’t really need anything else.” 

“You said it’s hurting?” Steve pipettes the tincture into a cup of water. “You said a five, and you lie. Knowing you, it’s closer to an eight, you just don’t want to tell me.” 

It might not be as extreme as an eight now, laying down and bandaged, but it hurts badly and a tincture would solve this. Still, you say, “It’s fine, I don’t need it.” 

He brings the glass regardless and puts it on the nightstand. Your bed is yards too big for one person, even two, but when Steve sits next to you he leaves no room between you. He looks down at you fondly. Brown hair like down feather falls against his forehead. 

“You’re going to be in pain for a long time.” He brings a hand to your cheek again. “It might sound tame, a plateau fracture, but that’s still a fracture. You know doctors say fracture when they mean broken, right? You broke your leg. It’s okay to want pain relief.” 

“I knew that. I didn’t know you knew it.” 

“Impolite.” He ducks down to look you in the eyes. You’re a little skewiff, straight to his sideways, but it gets a point across. He wants to kiss you while you’ve said something maddening. “I don’t see why you’re so insistent on pretending it hasn’t happened and that you’re fine. You got hurt, and you’ll stay hurt for a while. It might be weeks of bed and– and you need to be looked after. I don’t know why you’re so guilty about it.” 

“I’m not guilty,” you deny guilty, turning your face to lean into his hand, rather than continue to face his imploring gaze. “I just… I’m not used to this. Before, if something went wrong, I couldn’t just lay down and wait to get better, and I surely wouldn’t be laying here with doctors and servants and the ladies in waiting all trying to make sure– It’s like it’s not my fault, and that doesn’t make any sense. I don’t want to be a burden on everyone. More than I already am,” you add, a bitter mumble nearly lost to his palm. 

He makes a promise, then, turning your face to the light. “I’ll take care of you,” he says. 

“It’s rotten work.” 

Steve shakes his head gently. “Not to me. Not if it’s you.” 

You press your tongue to your teeth, worried you’ll say something you’ll regret. You don’t want him to go. You want him to mean exactly what he says, to stay here and take care of you, and to enjoy doing it. Wouldn’t it be nice to be loved for love's sake? 

Steve shuffles inward and encourages your head into his lap, thrusting pillows aside to take up station against your headboard. He frames your face, upside down, before both hands begin to run down your arms. A hug, in a way, as he twists his face to kiss the skin beside your eye. You squint at the proximity. 

“You’re not a burden,” he says, hands climbing upwards now, warm and steady where they travel, “you’re my wife. My cherished wife, remember?” 

His tone is silk. 

“You… haven’t proved to be a wretched husband,” you confess. 

“I did try. But loving you has been easy. It makes husbandry a gift.” He laughs at his grandiose and gives you a kiss that’s more familiar by your ear, his pleading, searching kisses, the kind he likes to press to all your softest junctures. “I wish you could understand that we’re marked for a reason. We were always meant to be together, and I couldn’t have asked for a better person to stand with me. I’m happy you’re here. I want to take care of you.” 

Not if it’s you, he’d said. 

You wonder if it might be okay to cry. He’s massaging your arms, still bent in half over you trying to kiss some belief in him into your forehead. 

“It’ll be okay,” he murmurs between chaste, silent kisses, “really. You don’t have to pretend things don’t hurt you anymore.” 

You feel strange, then, shivery and weak as you turn your face into his thigh. His hand slips behind your back to hold you.

“Can I convince you to drink this tincture now?” he asks, just above your ear. 

“I love you,” you mumble. 

He pauses his trailing hands. You squeeze your eyes closed, but he doesn’t pause for long enough to scare you. “I love you,” he says. “Since the day we met, I’ve loved you. I’ll take care of you.” 

He is easy to believe. 

[whosscruffylooking]

steve harrington x fem!reader Open Arms Masterlist word count: 9k Rewrite/Character Insert of Stranger Things ~1984~ a/n: this is the final rewrite chapter for season 2. the next few chapters will take place between seasons, before we jump into season 3. i'm torn between having the reader and steve already happily in love, or building their relationship with a slower, more gradual "slow burn" approach. let me know if you have a preference on which direction you'd like to see their story go. ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The house is still. Despite the number of people inside, everything—and everyone—feels frozen. The air hangs heavy, dense enough that even a falling leaf would plummet straight down instead of drifting aimlessly.

In that oppressive silence, Nancy’s hand rests gently on Jonathan’s shoulder as he murmurs soft, repeated apologies to his unconscious brother. Hopper’s voice thunders from another room, shouting into the phone at God knows who. The stark contrast between Jonathan’s whispered pleas and Hopper’s roaring urgency only adds to the weight pressing down on all of you.

Your gaze flicks between Jonathan, Nancy, and Steve. But Steve’s attention is fixed entirely on her. His expression is unreadable, a puzzle you can’t help but want to solve. Slowly, you step closer, your heart pounding as you search his face for some unspoken answer buried in his eyes. As if sensing your approach, Steve straightens, brushing a hand over his face in a failed attempt to mask the quiet sniffle that escapes. When his bloodshot eyes finally meet yours, you feel a pang of something you can’t quite name—pity, frustration, or maybe just the ache of knowing him so well.

This is the Steve you’ve always known—bold and self-assured, with a fiercely loyal heart that makes him impossible to walk away from. But tonight, his edges are frayed, his armor cracked under the weight of everything he’s faced. He doesn’t just observe the heaviness in the room; he feels it, wearing it like a second skin. As he watches Nancy with Jonathan—her hand on his shoulder, her gaze soft in a way Steve hasn’t seen in years—the truth settles quietly: Nancy isn’t his anymore. Her heart belongs to someone else. Yet instead of hurt, Steve feels peace—peace in letting go and realizing he might finally belong somewhere too.

Steve’s gaze shifts back to you, his jaw tightening, his hand flexing at his side as though resisting an urge he can’t quite act on. His eyes hold an intensity that sends a shiver through you. It isn’t the first time you’ve seen him look at you like this, but now it feels heavier, more deliberate.

His hand brushes lightly across your stomach, guiding you to follow him, his silent invitation impossible to ignore. He leads you into the kitchen, where he leans back against the counter. You steady yourself beside him, your fingertips accidentally grazing his, sparking a thrill of nerves. You hold your breath, unsure of what he might do now that Nancy’s here, lingering so close. But instead of pulling away, he surprises you—sliding his finger between yours, linking them together. In that small, quiet gesture, he says everything: I’m here. We’re here, and we’re in this together.

You both stay there, fingers subtly intertwined, as the kids reminisce about Bob.

Your mind drifts back to that summer you washed cars tirelessly, saving every dollar for a Walkman. You remember the pride you felt when you finally walked into RadioShack and handed Bob your hard-earned cash. He showed you how to use it, and from that day on, whenever he saw you, he made sure you knew about the latest and greatest models. He ignited your love for collecting them, and in a way, he fed your love of music. Bob is a hero, gone far too soon. Now, a fierce need for revenge against those monsters burns within you, alongside a deep desire to honor the memory of Bob Newby, the town’s unsung hero.

“We can’t let him die in vain,” you say, breaking the silence.

Dustin huffs in frustration. “Well, we can’t take down those Demo-dogs on our own.”

“Demo-dogs?” Max repeats, confused.

He shoots her an irritated look. “Demogorgon dogs. Demo-dogs. It’s like… a compound word. A play on words…”

You raise your eyebrows, giving Max a sarcastic nod. “Yeah, Max. Keep up.” She giggles despite the tension.

“There’s an army now,” Lucas says, his tone filled with doubt.

Mike’s voice cuts through the chatter. “His army.”

Steve perks up, his focus shifting. “What do you mean?”

The group gathers closer, ideas bouncing back and forth as Dustin pieces it together, dubbing the creature “the Mind Flayer.” You lean against the table, feeling Steve’s gaze on you again, steady and unwavering.

Nancy notices too, her eyes darting between the two of you. She sees the fear flickering in your eyes and the fierce determination in Steve’s to shield you from this nightmare. But it’s more than determination—there’s an intimacy there, a connection that echoes a past she knows the two of you share. She should feel jealous; after all, she spent the last year with this man, the one now looking at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever known. As Jonathan’s hand brushes hers, she feels something else—guilt.

Nancy squeezes Jonathan’s hand, grounding herself, but her gaze flicks back to Steve one last time.

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Here’s the next section revised into present tense:

At last, the plan is in place. You split into groups, and you find yourself alongside Jonathan, while Nancy and Steve head into the shed to transform it into something unrecognizable for Will.

“So… you and Nancy, huh?” you tease, nudging Jonathan lightly.

His cheeks flush, and he glances away. “Is it that obvious?”

“Not really. I just like to think I know you well enough to tell when you’re truly happy.”

He sighs, his shoulders sagging under the weight of everything that’s happened. “I shouldn’t be, though. While I was with Nancy, Will was here… suffering.”

“Jonathan,” you say gently, your voice firm, “you weren’t just off with Nancy. You were uncovering the truth, fighting for justice for Barb, and exposing something that could have swallowed Hawkins whole. When we get Will back, he’s going to be so proud of what you did to help stop this.”

You rest a hand on his arm, offering reassurance, and for a moment, Jonathan meets your eyes. There’s gratitude in his expression.

In the shed, Nancy and Steve work tirelessly, stapling whatever they can find to the walls in a desperate attempt to reach Will. The air between them feels lighter, but there’s still a lingering tension, a subtle unease that neither of them wants to name.

Nancy hesitates, stealing a glance at Steve before swallowing her pride. “Hey. What you did—helping the kids, keeping them safe… that was really cool.”

Steve blinks, surprised by the compliment. Not long ago, her words chipped away at every ounce of confidence he had—in himself, in his worth as a boyfriend, even in the kind of man he wants to be. But now, as her words settle in, it isn’t Nancy he’s thinking about. It’s you.

He thinks of all those years when he’d felt a nagging emptiness—not smart enough to impress his teachers, not strong enough to earn his father’s respect, not sure he’d ever be the guy to win over the girl. And yet, through it all, you’ve been there. You were always there, quietly anchoring him in a way he hadn’t fully understood until now. All those fleeting touches, secret smiles, and stolen moments with you—the girl everyone teased him about, the one he swore he wasn’t in love with—have built something stronger than he ever realized.

The Steve of yesterday might have begged Nancy to reconsider, to tell him she’d made a mistake and still loved him. But the Steve of today doesn’t need to. He knows now that Nancy wasn’t meant for him, just as he wasn’t meant for her. He had known it the day he found her and Jonathan in the Byers’ living room, their hands bound by blood, their connection undeniable. They belong together, and maybe they always have.

But Steve also knows where he belongs now. For so long, he believed that love meant chasing, proving, or convincing someone to choose him. Yet when he looks at you—standing just outside the shed, picking up an axe with confident hands—it’s like the weapon belongs to you. You hold it naturally, without hesitation. Steve feels a pull so steady and certain it leaves no room for doubt. He doesn’t have to beg for your love because it’s already there, as it’s always been.

Nancy notices it once again. There’s that same feeling from earlier—guilt. Guilt for trying to mold Steve into a part of her life that never truly fit. Deep down, she has always known where her heart belongs. And now, watching the way you and Steve gravitate toward each other, she realizes something else: maybe his heart has never fully belonged to her either. The way he looks at you—like you’re the only thing keeping him from crumbling under the weight of it all—it’s a look she’s never seen him give her. And somehow, someway, she’s at peace with that.

You step into the shed, your steps hesitant as you cross into the quiet space. “Am I interrupting something?” you ask, your voice tentative.

“No! Not at all,” Nancy says quickly, offering you a smile that’s softer than you expect. “Actually, thank you. For everything. You didn’t have to get involved in all this, but we really need you.”

You blink in surprise at her sincerity but manage to find your voice. “Of course. I just… I wish I could’ve done more sooner. And I’m sorry. For… for Barb and everything else.” There’s a double meaning in your words, one that lingers unspoken, but you hope Nancy hears it anyway.

Silence settles between the three of you, awkward but not hostile. “Well,” you say, stepping back toward the door, “I guess you guys have it covered in here. I’ll, uh… I’ll let you get back to it.”

You leave quickly, your heart racing for reasons you can’t quite pin down. But as you glance over your shoulder one last time, you catch Steve watching you. You nod, and he smiles—soft and sure, like he’s been waiting for this. Then you step into the night, his gaze still lingering in your mind.

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While Joyce, Mike, Hopper, Jonathan, and Will are all out in the shed, the rest of you stay inside.

You wait in the dim living room with Steve, backs pressed against the wall. Tensions are high, but in this quiet moment, with danger pressing in around you, both your walls are down.

“So…” you start, biting your lip as you realize you’ve spoken just to fill the silence, only to find yourself without anything to say.

“So.”

“Are we… good?” you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve leans his head back against the wall, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows down the lump that’s been there every time you two have drifted to the edge of this conversation over the years.

“I don’t think we’ve ever been this perfect.”

There it is. The words hang heavy in the air, and tears spring to your eyes.

He starts again, his voice softer this time. “Friends don’t make each other feel like this.”

“Like what?” you ask, genuinely confused.

“Like if one of those monsters bursts through that door, there’s a chance I could lose my everything. My whole world. And there’s no chance I’d survive if that happened.”

“Y-your whole world… meaning?” The words catch in your throat, the weight of them hitting you before you can make sense of them.

He nods, his eyes locked on yours, confirming every word he just said.

“Not… not…” You glance toward the other room, where Nancy is sitting, unsure if you want the answer.

“No.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but it’s firm. The vulnerability in his eyes is so raw it almost breaks you.

Your heart races. His whole world. You don’t need him to say anything else—the depth of what he’s admitting is clear, and yet you can’t find the words to match it. The truth of it hangs between you, painful and perfect, all at once.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you speak, your voice trembling but steady. “Then I guess we have to survive tonight… so we can have a very important conversation tomorrow.”

Steve sighs, his gaze shifting upward as he stares at the ceiling, clearly lost in thought. His breathing catches slightly as he imagines what he wants, growing heavier with each passing second. “If we get out of here, I wanna do a lot more than just have a conversation with you.” He finally looks back at you, his eyes dark with intent, a smirk tugging at his lips.

You swallow, your heart thudding in your chest, caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. You shift closer to him, trying to match his teasing intensity, but your voice comes out softer, playful despite the tension. “Then you better not let anything stupid happen to you tonight, Harrington.” You raise an eyebrow, a hint of challenge in your tone.

Right on cue, the ominous roars of the Demodogs reverberate in the distance. You, along with everyone else, rush to your feet.

“They’re coming!” Dustin announces.

“He found us,” you whisper.

Those who were in the shed, along with an unconscious Will, rush inside, their faces drained of color as the roars outside grow louder. Nancy grabs your axe from the table and extends it to you, a hint of mischief and excitement in her eyes. She secretly gets a thrill out of this, just like you do.

Your grip tightens around the axe, a firm resolve anchoring you. Just days ago, you didn’t even know the Upside Down—or the horrors within it—existed. But tonight, it’s as if you’ve been preparing for this moment your whole life. You look to Steve and tap your axe to his bat in solidarity. You’re ready to face whatever comes, together. There’s so much to defend now—not just your friends, not just your own life, but the fragile, precious hope of a future you’ve waited so long to finally feel within reach.

You all gather together, a mismatched group bound by a shared resolve, ready to fight with everything you’ve got to save your friend—and the town you call home. For Bob, you think.

The sound of the creatures’ footsteps surrounds you from every corner outside the house, making it impossible to pinpoint where to aim your weapon. Their skin-crawling screeches and chittering seep through the walls, sending an icy chill down your spine.

“What are they doing?” you ask, breathless with fear.

Suddenly, the screeching cuts off, and one of the creatures comes crashing through the window, glass shattering in every direction. You all step forward cautiously, you more than the others. After a tense moment, you tap it with your axe. “It’s dead.”

Before you can catch your breath, you hear the front door’s lock turn. In sync, everyone shifts their attention toward it. The door creaks open, and in walks a girl—dressed in all black, her hair slicked back, jeans unevenly cuffed. A trickle of blood runs from her nose.

This must be El—the girl Mike is in love with, the one everyone was so sure had been lost forever.

Mike rushes to Eleven, asking, “Why didn’t you tell me you were safe?” His joy quickly fades when he realizes Hopper has been the one hiding her. A fight erupts and Hopper rushes Mike into the next room.

Eleven turns to rejoin her friends, but her sharp, assessing gaze lands on Max. You step forward with a gentle smile, determined to diffuse the tension.

“I’m Y/N,” you say softly. “I’ve been hoping to meet you.”

El’s expression shifts slightly, her features softening as her piercing glare toward Max wanes. She seems to recognize something in you—an ally, not a threat.

“Thanks,” Max murmurs quietly, the relief evident in her voice.

You glance toward Steve, Nancy, and Jonathan, then back to Max, offering a knowing smile. “Believe me,” you say with a touch of humor, “I get it.”

Max’s lips twitch into a tentative smile, and for the first time, El’s icy demeanor seems to thaw just a bit. A quiet chuckle passes between you and Max as she begins to piece together the reason behind El’s frosty reception.

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Once everyone settles, you all reconvene to finalize the next steps now that Eleven is here to close the gate to the Upside Down. There’s a tension in the air, a quiet urgency to everything. Every minute counts, but there’s no room for fear—not now. The stakes are higher than ever, and all of you can feel it.

The plan is set: to free Will from the beast’s grip, he’ll need to experience intense heat. The thought of what he has to go through sickens you, but you know there is no choice.

Once again, you split into groups. Steve’s gaze lingers on you as you organize everything. It’s clear he wants to stay close, to keep you safe. And you want the same. But you can’t let that get in the way. There’s no room for distractions now.

Nancy, on the other hand, hesitates. Her eyes flicker to Jonathan, and you see the guilt in her expression—she wants to go with him, knowing he’ll be heading to Hopper’s cabin with his mom and Will. But something keeps her rooted to the spot. The ghosts of old decisions, the moments when she chose Jonathan over Steve, seem to haunt her every step. You know how she feels, even if she won’t admit it. It’s a complicated web, and there’s no way out but through.

Taking a steadying breath, you volunteer Steve and Nancy to sift through the yard junk for heaters. They both look at you with surprise, clearly not expecting to be sent together again. But you know they need this moment, this chance to work together. Maybe, just maybe, it’ll give them a bit of closure. Something to put the past behind them. It’s not much, but it’s a step.

They reluctantly go, and you busy yourself with whatever you can do to help the kids inside. It feels like everything is moving so fast, the world spinning, and you’re just trying to hold on.

Outside, Steve and Nancy busy themselves with the junk pile. The silence feels like it lasts an eternity.

“You should go with him,” Steve says to Nancy, his tone quiet but firm.

Nancy looks up, confusion written across her face. 

“With Jonathan,” he states.

She scoffs, shaking her head. “No, I’m not just gonna leave Mike.”

Steve steps closer, picking up a heater she’d found and handing it to her gently. “No one’s leaving anyone, Nance. I may not have been the best boyfriend, but… turns out, I’m actually a pretty damn good babysitter. And besides…” He glances towards the house, where you’re trying to hold everything together, “I have help.”

Nancy looks at him, her voice softer now. “Steve…”

He smiles a little, though it’s tinged with something bittersweet. “It’s okay, Nance. It’s okay.”

There’s a long pause, and then Nancy’s eyes soften, her shoulders drooping in a way that shows the weight she’s carried for so long. “You know, I’m glad…” she says quietly, hesitating before finishing, “I’m glad you have… help.” She nods slightly in your direction.

Steve exhales deeply, feeling something in him finally loosen, as if Nancy’s words have given him permission to finally let go of the lingering tension. It’s a relief, but also a sad one. Because it’s not the resolution he wanted, but it’s the one that’s here. And for once, it feels like the first step towards peace.

“I actually have something I want to ask her,” Nancy says, giving Steve a quick squeeze on his arm as she walks away.

Nancy finds you inside, her hand gently grabbing your arm. “Hey, can I ask a favor?”

You look at her, unsure of what she’s about to ask. It’s strange, given everything that’s happened. Nancy’s been with both of your childhood friends, and you… well, you’ve been secretly in love with her ex. The air between you is thick with unspoken history and tangled emotions.

“Can you look after Mike for me?” Nancy asks quietly, almost nervously. “You’ve always been like a big sister to the boys, and… well, I can’t be there for him right now.”

Without thinking, you pull Nancy into a tight hug. “You know I’ll protect him like he’s my own little brother,” you reassure her softly, your voice steady despite the chaotic feeling inside.

Nancy lets out a shaky sob, her voice breaking. “I’m scared.”

You pull back slightly, wiping away a stray tear from her cheek. “I know. But if anyone can handle all of this, it’s you. In case you haven’t noticed… you’re kind of a badass,” you say, trying to lighten the mood just a little.

She chuckles, though it’s muffled by her tears. “Thanks,” she says quietly, her voice still cracking, but there’s a spark of something in her eyes—maybe hope.

You hold her for a moment longer before she pulls away, offering you one last sad smile before heading out.

As she walks away, you spot Mike, standing alone in the corner, his face a mask of quiet devastation. His tears are falling silently as he watches the girl he just got back slip away from him once again. Without thinking, you walk over to him and wrap a comforting arm around his shoulders. No words are needed. He doesn’t need to hear anything right now. All he needs is to feel your silent support, your steady presence in the storm.

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Inside, the kids have come up with a bold plan to help Eleven and Will. It’s risky, but it just might work. It requires going into the tunnels buried deep beneath Hawkins, the map that Will made. You can see the logic in it, but Steve is having none of it.

“Hey! This is not happening. No buts. I promised I’d keep you guys safe, and that’s exactly what I plan on. We’re staying here. On the bench. And we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job,” Steve says, his voice unwavering, protective.

“Does everybody understand?”

“This isn’t a stupid sports game,” Mike fires back.

“I said, does everybody understand that? I need a yes.”

You suppress a giggle at Steve’s surprisingly maternal tone. He’s serious, but there’s something comforting in it too—something that makes you feel, for a second, like everything will be okay.

Just as the tension peaks, the roar of an engine cuts through the air, making everyone jump. Max rushes to the window, her face draining of color. “It’s my brother. He can’t know we’re here. He’ll kill us.”

“Crap,” you mutter under your breath, panic setting in.

“What?” Steve asks, his frown deepening.

“I kind of forgot I had a date with Billy tonight.”

“You what!?” Steve exclaims, his eyes widening in disbelief, his frustration bubbling over. “You had a date with Billy?”

“I was bored, and he asked me out last week. I wasn’t looking for anything more than a distraction,” you explain quickly, trying to downplay the situation.

“And you had to pick him as the distraction!?” Steve says, voice dripping with exasperation.

“Steve, this is really not the time to have this conversation,” you say, nudging him toward the door, trying to push aside the tension building between you two.

You quickly motion for the kids to hide, and despite his irritation, Steve swallows his pride and steps into action, focusing on getting Billy out of the way. His annoyance with you fades—momentarily—as the bigger picture takes precedence.

Peering through the peephole of the door, you try to hear what’s going on outside, but the muffled voices barely reach you. All you can make out is that, somehow, both men look equally stunning in their jeans. Truly, works of art.

But it’s Steve who keeps your attention. This is King Steve in his prime. He’s cool, collected, calm in the face of danger—no trace of fear in his demeanor. It’s a side of him that always caught your eye, but now, in this moment, seeing him like this, your heart pounds in your chest. It’s a protective side of him, the side that would do anything to keep you safe.

Suddenly, both men turn toward the window.

You snap your head over and see the kids, wide-eyed and standing at the window like idiots. “What did I tell you!?” you whisper-yell, panic creeping into your voice. You turn back to see Billy slam Steve to the ground, his strength too much for the man to handle in the moment.

“Get behind me!” you shout to the kids, feeling the urgency in your voice.

Billy crashes through the door, his expression shifting from rage to surprise when he sees you standing there.

“Y/N,” he says, voice dripping with a mix of venom and curiosity. “You’re the last person I expected to see here. Although, I’ve heard some… interesting things about you and Harrington.”

You square your shoulders, refusing to show even the slightest trace of fear. “I guess now’s as good a time as any to tell you I can’t make it to our date tonight.”

“No,” Billy sneers, closing the space between you. “I don’t want Harrington’s sloppy seconds anyway.”

He takes another step, his breath grazing against your skin. “Now step aside, and let me talk to my sister.”

You push your fist gently against his chest, unflinching as you meet his eyes. “Billy, don’t. They’re just kids—let them hang out and have fun.”

Something dark flashes across his eyes, his patience thinning. “I said, step aside,” he growls, pushing past you with force and locking his gaze on Lucas. You stand your ground, knowing you’re not backing down. You’ll protect these kids, no matter what.

“I thought I told you to stay away from him, Max. And you know what happens when you disobey me. I break things.” He sweeps Lucas off his feet and slams him into the refrigerator. You run to his side attempting to pull him off of Lucas, to no avail. 

“Billy, stop!” You grab hold of his arms. He looks at you for a brief moment and Lucas takes the opportunity to knee him in the crotch. Billy doubles over, wincing in pain.

“You’re so dead, Sinclair! You’re dead,” he spits, his voice full of fury as he glares at Lucas.

Before you can even process what’s happening, Steve bursts in, shoving you and Lucas behind him, positioning himself between you and Billy with a protective stance.

“No. You are.” He says before landing a solid punch to Billy’s jaw.

Billy laughs menacingly, his voice dripping with mockery. “Looks like you’ve got some fire in you after all, huh? Been waiting to meet this King Steve everyone’s been talking about.”

“Get out,” Steve warns, his tone cold and steady.

And like a trigger, Billy is launching another punch at Steve. Thankfully, he evades it and rebuttals, his fist making contact with Billy once more. Billy swiftly recovers, his movements sharp and brutal. He grabs a plate from the nearby counter and smashes it onto Steve’s head, sending shards flying everywhere and disorienting him. Billy drives a knee into Steve’s throat. Steve gasps, choking at the impact.

You lunge forward, desperate to defend Steve, but he manages to choke out a barely audible, “No.” Billy seizes the opportunity, his attention quickly shifting to you, sensing your hesitation. Before you can react, he lunges at you, his hands reaching for your throat.

But Steve, still struggling to regain his strength, forces himself to push through the pain. His vision is blurry, and his head spins, but the sight of you in danger snaps him into action. With a growl of determination, he forces himself up, gritting his teeth against the pain as he tackles Billy to the ground, knocking him off balance.

Billy lets out a shout of anger, but Steve is relentless. He fights through his disorientation, throwing punch after punch, not allowing Billy a moment to recover. "Stay away from her!" Steve snarls, his voice filled with pure protectiveness as he shields you with his body.

Their struggle quickly moves into the living room, the sound of their grunts and the thud of fists against flesh filling the air. Billy, fueled by anger, overpowers Steve with brutal force. He pins Steve to the ground, delivering a hard punch to his jaw that sends a jolt of pain through Steve's entire body.

Fully depleted now, Steve endures blow after blow as Billy’s fists rain down on him. You want to cry, but the tears won’t come. Your body refuses to let you break down—not now. There’s no time for that. All that matters is thinking clearly and protecting your best friend.

The sedative. Where is the sedative they used on Will? Adrenaline surges through you as you search frantically, finally spotting it next to Max.

“MAX!” you shout, motioning to the syringe. She quickly hands it to you, and you rush to Steve’s side. With a swift motion, you jam the needle into Billy’s neck, pushing the plunger and releasing the toxin.

Billy looks at you, shock flooding his expression. Your breaths are uneven as you take a step back, trying to steady yourself. He staggers to his feet, the sedative starting to take hold. “What did you do to me?” he demands, his voice laced with disbelief.

“Don’t you ever touch him again,” you growl, stepping right into his space, daring him to make another move.

The silence after your shout feels suffocating, broken only by the shallow, ragged breaths coming from Steve. His bloodied face is pale, far too pale.

“Steve, please,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “You promised me, remember?”

He stirs faintly at your words, his lashes fluttering, but his eyes remain closed.

“Lucas! Dustin!” you shout, desperation cracking through the last fragile shred of composure. “Help me get him up! Now!”

The boys rush over, wide-eyed and terrified. Together, they help lift Steve’s limp form, his head lolling against your shoulder. You cradle the back of his neck with one hand, holding him close as you stumble toward the car.

Max’s tearful voice barely registers, sharp and angry as she shouts at Billy. But you can’t care about him. Not now. Not when Steve is barely conscious.

“I swear to God, Harrington,” you mutter through gritted teeth, your voice tight with anger and fear.

You glance down at him as you help load him into the backseat, your hand trembling as it brushes over his bloodied cheek.

Reluctantly, you climb into the driver’s seat, stealing one last glance at him before gripping the wheel. Only a few days ago, you’d driven him home drunk from a party, his laughter slurring together as he teased you the entire ride. You never thought you’d be doing the same thing now—except this time, with blood on his face and fear in your chest.

“Where to?” You ask. “The pumpkin patch, we’ll direct you,” Mike replies. The engine roars to life, the car lurching forward as you tear down the road. “Keep him awake, guys,” you say, glancing into the rearview mirror. The boys nod hurriedly, their voices soft but urgent as they try to rouse him.

Dustin shakes Steve a little too aggressively. “Hey, buddy...It's okay. You put up a good fight. He kicked your ass, but you put up a fight. You're okay.” 

The car jolts over a pothole, and you wince, glancing back. “Sorry,” you murmur, guilt twisting in your stomach.

Steve’s head shifts, his lips parting like he wants to say something, but all that comes out is a faint, pained sigh.

“Don’t even think about talking,” you snap, though your tone softens almost immediately. “Save it. You’re gonna need all your strength in a minute and don’t eyen get me started on tomorrow when I chew you out for this.” You force a bitter laugh, the sound more broken than you mean for it to be. “Trust me, Harrington, I will.”

A low groan escapes him, and his head turns slightly toward you, as if he’s trying to acknowledge your words.

Your hands tighten on the wheel as the car screeches to a stop outside the pumpkin patch. The boys jump out, voices overlapping as they shout about getting their supplies and jumping into the tunnels. But you stay frozen for a moment, staring back at Steve.

“I meant it, you know,” you whisper, leaning back to catch one last glimpse of his face. “You’ve got one night to pull yourself together, Harrington. Because tomorrow? You and I—we’re not leaving anything unsaid.”

His swollen lips twitch into a faint smirk. “Oh, I’m holding out, alright. For what I’m planning to do to you when all this is over.”

Your breath catches, and you freeze, staring at him. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He lets out a weak, pained chuckle. “What? You think I’m gonna go down without giving you something to think about?”

You scoff, trying to keep your composure, though the heat rising in your cheeks betrays you. “Hawkins is literally falling apart, Steve. You’re half-dead, we’re about to crawl into another dimension, tomorrow could change everything between us, and that’s what you’re focused on?”

“Gotta have priorities,” he murmurs, the smirk still somehow hanging on despite the pain etched across his face.

You roll your eyes, but there’s no hiding the way your heart stumbles in your chest. “Unbelievable,” you mutter, shaking your head. “Just try not to get yourself killed before you can make good on all these big plans, Harrington.”

His smirk softens just slightly, something warmer flickering in his gaze before his eyelids grow heavy again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Now c’mon, let’s go play with fire,” you say with a wink before stepping out of the car.

“Wait! Wait!” Steve calls after you, hobbling out of the car despite the pain etched on his face. “You and the kids are not going down there,” he insists, his voice firm, though his winces betray him.

You spin around to meet him, crossing your arms. “Right. Because you’re clearly in peak condition to handle this yourself,” you retort, your tone dripping with playful sarcasm.

Steve takes a sharp breath, steadying himself. “It could be another ambush,” he counters, his voice softer now but laced with concern. His hand reaches out, catching your arm gently as if holding you in place will keep you safe.

You glance at his hand, then back at him. “Well…” You slip your hand into his pocket, fishing around, which earns you a heavy sigh and a wide-eyed stare from him. His breath hitches, his cheeks tinged pink.

“What are you doing?” he manages, his voice cracking slightly.

You pull out his lighter and hold it up with a smirk. “Good thing we have fire and they don’t,” you say, a teasing glint in your eye.

Steve exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair as he shakes his head. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he mutters, half in awe and half exasperated, but the small grin tugging at his lips gives him away.

“Now is not the time for your soap opera romance, people! Focus! Your job is to keep us alive,” Dustin grumbles, shoving bandanas and your weapons at both of you like an annoyed parent.

You stifle a laugh as you take one and wrap it around your face. Then, turning to Steve, you adjust his for him, tying it snugly behind his head.

“Thanks, mom,” Steve quips, his voice muffled through the fabric.

“Hey, at least she knows how to multitask,” Dustin fires back, rolling his eyes as he marches ahead into the tunnels.

You drop down into the dark tunnels behind the others, the strange, glowing particles swirling in the air like tiny stars. It’s eerie—ominous, even—but there’s a haunting beauty to it that almost distracts you from the danger. Almost.

“I’m pretty sure it’s this way. Follow me!” Mike announces, charging ahead with way too much confidence.

Steve stops him with an outstretched arm. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. No way. If any of you get hurt—or worse—down here, it’s my head on the chopping block. From now on, I’m leading the way. Got it?”

The kids exchange uncertain glances, and you catch yourself smiling. Watching Steve take charge, all protective and responsible, makes your heart ache in the best way. He’d make an amazing dad someday—wait, what? Where did that thought come from? You shake it off quickly, heat rising to your cheeks. You haven’t even sorted out your feelings, let alone—

“Come on, let’s move!” Steve says, cutting into your spiral.

The kids glance back at you, silently asking for reassurance. You chuckle and wave them forward. “What are you waiting for? A formal invitation? A little hustle, huh? I’ll be right behind you.”

As you move cautiously through the twisting tunnels, the air feels heavier with each step. Pods of various sizes cling to the walls and ceiling, pulsing faintly as if they’re alive. The eerie glow from within them illuminates the otherwise pitch-black space, casting strange shadows.

You notice Dustin stop to inspect one of the pods, his curiosity getting the better of him. A pang of concern hits you, so you linger behind, keeping an eye on him to ensure he doesn’t fall too far back from the group.

“Dustin, don’t—”

Before you can finish, the pod above him bursts, releasing a spray of viscous fluid. Dustin collapses to the ground, screaming in terror.

“Dustin!” you shout, rushing to his side as panic sets in. He’s coughing and gasping, clutching at his face.

The others quickly double back, finding you crouched beside a flailing Dustin. “It’s in my mouth! It’s in my mouth!” he chokes out, his voice frantic.

You grab his shoulders firmly and try to make him focus. “Hey! Dustin, look at me. You’re fine! It’s okay!” His mask is soaked, so you pull it down and shake him lightly to break through his panic. “Breathe, okay? Just breathe!”

Finally, his gasps slow, and his breathing steadies as he leans into you for comfort. “I thought I was gonna die,” he mutters dramatically, clutching your arm like a lifeline.

From behind, Steve’s flashlight beam lands on you both, his expression a mix of exasperation and mild jealousy.

“Alright, Romeo,” Steve cuts in, stepping closer with a mock-stern glare. “Hands off.” He uses his flashlight to nudge Dustin away from you, shaking his head as the boy reluctantly lets go.

Dustin groans, “Come on, man. I almost died!”

Steve rolls his eyes. “You’re fine. Let’s move.”

Finally, you venture into the hub that Mike was speaking of.

“Let’s drench it,” you say, your voice steady and determined.

Steve nods in agreement, hefting a can of fuel. “You heard her. Let’s get to work.”

The kids scatter, pouring the fuel across the floor and onto the vines, their expressions grim as they focus on the task. You work alongside Steve, each of you silently mirroring the other’s urgency.

“Careful not to miss a spot,” Steve says, glancing your way.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got this,” you reply, pouring fuel over a particularly thick vine.

Nearby, Dustin struggles with his fuel can, muttering under his breath. “Why are these things always heavier than they look?”

Steve smirks and steps over to help, taking the can from him with ease. “Here, let me. And don’t spill it on yourself, genius, unless you’re volunteering to go up in flames.”

Dustin scowls but doesn’t argue. “I wasn’t gonna spill it. I’m not a total moron.”

“Debatable,” Steve teases, ruffling Dustin’s hair before handing the can back.

You glance at the kids, ensuring they’re staying safe and focused. “Alright, guys, keep spreading it evenly. We’re almost done.”

Lucas passes you, carefully pouring his fuel along the edge of the tunnel. “What if this doesn’t work?” he asks, his voice wavering slightly.

You crouch beside him, squeezing his shoulder gently. “It’ll work. We’ve got this.”

Once the fuel is spread, everyone regroups in the center of the hub. The tension in the air is almost suffocating as you all take a moment to catch your breath. You pull the lighter from your pocket, flicking it open and closed as you exchange a glance with Steve.

“Ready to light these bastards up?” you ask, your voice laced with defiance.

Steve adjusts the bat slung over his shoulder and gives you a small nod. “Ready when you are.”

The kids tighten their makeshift masks, and you do one last check of the group. Dustin looks pale but determined, Mike is fidgeting nervously, and Max’s expression is set with fierce resolve.

“Alright,” Steve says, his voice steady as he looks at the kids. “Masks on, stay close, and whatever you do, don’t breathe this crap in. Let’s finish this.”

You flick the lighter, the small flame dancing in the dim, oppressive air. For a second, the world stills. Everyone holds their breath, watching as you crouch and lower the flame to the fuel-soaked ground.

The fire catches immediately, roaring to life and snaking outward like a living thing. It licks up the walls and races down the tendrils of vine, consuming everything in its path. The flames glow an angry orange-red, casting the tunnels in an eerie, hellish light.

A deafening screech echoes through the chamber as the vines react violently to the fire. The tendrils convulse, writhing and snapping like cornered animals. They whip against the walls and ceiling, sending dust and debris raining down around you.

“Move! Move back!” Steve shouts, grabbing your arm and pulling you a safe distance from the inferno.

The kids scramble, their faces a mix of awe and terror as they watch the fire spread rapidly, overtaking the entire hub.

“What the hell!” Dustin yells, ducking as a tendril slams into the wall near him.

“It’s working!” Mike exclaims, his voice tinged with equal parts fear and exhilaration.

The vines’ convulsions grow more frantic, their shrill screeches reverberating in your ears. They thrash wildly, almost as if they’re alive—and dying. One massive tentacle swings dangerously close, slamming into a cluster of pods and sending a burst of fluid and ash into the air.

“We need to get out of here!” Max shouts, tugging at Lucas, who is staring in horrified fascination at the destruction.

Steve steps in, gripping Lucas by the collar and pulling him back. “Yeah, no sightseeing! Let’s go!”

You cast one last look at the flames, the fire consuming the heart of the Upside Down’s hold on Hawkins. The once-terrifying tendrils are now nothing more than flailing, dying beasts. For a moment, there’s a flicker of hope.

But the ground shakes violently beneath your feet, and you realize this isn’t over.

“Run!” you shout, ushering the kids toward the exit.

Steve keeps pace beside you, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure everyone is moving. “You heard her! Don’t stop for anything!”

The flames roar louder, the tunnel filling with chaos as the Upside Down fights back. The group is moving quickly through the winding tunnels, the glow of the burning hub fading behind you.

“Keep up, guys!” You call out, your flashlight bouncing off the walls as you attempt to find the exit.

Suddenly, Mike stumbles over a root jutting from the ground and crashes to the floor. Before you can help him up, a slimy tendril shoots out from the wall, wrapping around his ankle and yanking him backward.

“Mike!” you shout, sprinting toward him.

The tendril tightens, dragging him closer to the pulsing wall. Mike’s panicked cries echo through the tunnel as he claws at the ground.

“Help me!”

You  dive for his arms, your hands gripping him tightly. “I’ve got you!”

Steve spins around at the commotion, his eyes widening. “Stay on him!” he yells, rushing forward with his bat.

The kids surround Mike, grabbing onto his arms and torso as the tendril pulls with unnerving strength.

“Hold him!” Steve growls, swinging his bat at the vine. His first hit barely leaves a mark. The tendril writhes, nearly yanking Mike out of your grasp.

“Steve, hurry!” you shout, your muscles burning as you fight to keep your grip.

Mike’s voice is strained with panic. “It’s pulling me in!”

Steve delivers another blow, this time severing the tendril with a sickening snap. The vine recoils, flailing wildly before retreating back into the wall. Mike collapses into your arms, trembling and gasping for breath. “You okay?” you ask, brushing the dust off his face and pulling him into a quick hug. “I think so,” he croaks, his wide eyes darting to the now lifeless tendril. Steve leans down, resting a hand on Mike’s shoulder. “Hey, you okay?”

Mike nods weakly.

“Good,” Steve says, his voice softer now, though he glances at you briefly, the tension in his face still evident. “Let’s move before that thing decides to grow back.”

You stand, helping Mike to his feet. As the group regroups, you catch Steve’s gaze. “You did good,” you murmur. “Yeah, well, keeping you guys alive isn’t easy,” he replies, smirking faintly before turning to lead the way again.

Then, a deep, guttural growl stops you in your tracks. Dustin freezes, wide-eyed. “That’s… not good.”

From the darkness ahead, a massive shape emerges, slinking into view with an unnerving fluidity. It’s Dart. The Demodog’s slick, reptilian skin gleams faintly in the dim light, and its jaws part to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. It lets out a shrill roar, the sound ricocheting off the walls.

“Of course it’s Dart!” Steve groans, shoving the kids behind him. “Why wouldn’t it be Dart?”

Dustin steps forward, desperation on his face. “Wait, wait! Maybe he remembers me! I can calm him down.”

Steve grabs his arm, pulling him back. “Yeah, no offense, but your little monster is definitely not in the mood for a reunion!”

Dart crouches low, muscles tensing, ready to pounce.

Uh, guys,” you say, your voice trembling as you slowly pull out the bat Steve handed you earlier. “We’re cornered.”

Dart takes a cautious step forward, sniffing the air. His dark, soulless eyes lock onto you, then shift to Steve, who raises his bat defensively.

“Stay behind me,” Steve orders, his voice low but firm.

“I’m not hiding while you get mauled!” you snap, gripping your weapon tighter.

“Guys!” Mike yells. “We don’t have time for this!”

Dustin tries again, his voice trembling. “Dart, buddy, it’s me! Remember the nougat?” He pulls a crumpled candy bar from his pocket and holds it out, his hand shaking.

For a moment, Dart pauses, sniffing the air again. He tilts his head, the faintest hint of recognition crossing his monstrous features.

“It’s working,” Dustin whispers, inching forward.

“Now, go!” Dustin orders. Steve grabs your arm and pulls you forward, motioning for the others to follow.

The group moves in a sprint, darting toward the exit, not daring to look back. Behind you, Dart is still distracted, munching on the nougat.

You push yourself harder, the adrenaline of escape keeping you going. “Almost there!” you call out, knowing Dart won’t stay distracted for long.

Finally, the light from the exit hits your eyes. As you and the group prepare to exit the tunnels, the ground begins to shake. The walls tremble, and the air vibrates with a low, ominous rumble. Dust falls from above, and a low, guttural growl echoes through the tunnel. The unmistakable sound of hundreds of Demodogs heading your way.

“They’re coming,” you whisper urgently, your heart racing. You turn to Steve, your mind spinning with the mounting pressure. “We need to get out of here, now.”

He’s already helping the kids climb up to the hole in the ceiling, pushing them toward safety as fast as possible. But when it’s your turn, the panic sets in.

“Your turn,” Steve urges, pointing at the hole, trying to push you towards it.

You shake your head, your expression firm but laced with concern. “No. You go first.”

“Y/N, we don’t have time for this!” He insists, the sound of the Demodogs’ claws scraping against the floor growing louder.

“Then I’m staying with you,” you say, your voice unwavering. 

Your pulse quickens as you feel the ground shake harder, the sound of the Demodogs’ approach growing closer with every passing second. “Y/N, please—just go! It’s not safe.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you say, your voice full of determination. “Not now. Not ever.”

You meet his gaze, your breath catching in your throat. The panic is consuming you both, but his steady presence is like a tether, anchoring you in the chaos. You can feel the weight of his promise, the silent pledge to protect you no matter the cost. You hesitate for a moment, but then something clicks inside you. You’ve been through too much together, and you’re not about to let fear make the decision for you. Steve looks at you, his expression softening, though the worry still lingers in his eyes. He nods, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you closer.

Suddenly, the ground shakes again, and you hear the unmistakable sound of claws scraping against the tunnel floor. The Demodogs are close—too close. But then, as if by some strange twist of fate, the creatures don’t come for you. Instead, they race past you, heading in the opposite direction, their growls growing fainter as they disappear down the tunnel. You freeze, your mind struggling to make sense of it. Why aren’t they attacking? Steve tightens his hold on you, his breath shaky as he pulls you into a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” His voice is a whisper, full of relief but still tinged with concern.

You nod, still trying to process what just happened. “Yeah.” He pulls back just enough to look at you, his face full of worry and something else—a deep, unspoken relief. He brushes a strand of hair from your face.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says softly, his voice low and steady, his hand still firmly holding yours.

You and the kids stumble out of the tunnels, breathless and bruised. The night sky feels cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat and chaos of the tunnels. But there’s no time to rest—you’re all still on edge, still feeling the tremors of what you narrowly escaped.

The first thing you notice is the light. A blinding, intense beam from the car ahead, cutting through the night and casting everything in stark relief. It’s almost overwhelming, too bright to look at directly, but as you squint into the darkness, you realize it’s the lights from the car, but something else is happening.

The car’s headlights seem to grow brighter with every passing second, as though mirroring the strength of Eleven’s power, forcing the rift to shrink back into itself. The ground trembles beneath your feet once again, but this time, it feels like something is being retracted, something is ending.

“Is it… over?” Max breathes, almost in disbelief, her voice raw from the tension.

Finally, just as the light from the car reaches its peak, it suddenly begins to fade. The ground stills beneath your feet, the air grows quieter, and the frantic pulse of energy that had been surging through the night starts to die down.

“It’s done,” Dustin says softly, a mix of wonder and disbelief in his voice.

Mike nods slowly, “She really did it.”

You turn to Steve. His eyes meet yours, and you can see it in the way he looks at you—relief, exhaustion, and something else. The world is slowly righting itself, and for the first time, you feel the quiet after the storm settle in your bones.

“It’s over,” you whisper to him.

A soft smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah… it really is.”

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

The next day, the sterile white walls of Hawkins National Lab feel like a cold reminder of everything that happened. Doctor Owens moves through the room with practiced ease, checking your vitals with a detached professionalism, while he hands you a stack of non-disclosure agreements to sign. You nod, eyes unfocused, your mind drifting in and out of the haze of the previous night.

As you sign the papers, you catch a glimpse of Steve across the hall, another doctor checking on him. Your eyes meet for the briefest of moments, an unspoken connection hanging in the air before you quickly look away, your heart sinking with the weight of unasked questions. Did he mean it? Was it the chaos of the night, the adrenaline of survival, that made him say what he did? Or was there more to it?

After the checkups, you find yourself outside the lab, the fresh air offering little relief from the turmoil inside your head. Steve’s there, waiting for you, his expression uncertain but soft. “Hey,” he says, his voice low. “You okay?”

For a split second, you want to reach out, to let him comfort you, to talk about everything that’s been weighing on you. But the doubts won’t let you. Not yet. You force a tight smile, shaking your head. “I’m fine. Can you just give me a ride home?”

Steve nods, but his face falls, disappointment flickering in his eyes. You can see it—the same uncertainty that’s been eating at you, mirrored in him. He doesn’t push, doesn’t try to make it better. You get into his car in silence, the tension between you palpable. The ride home feels endless, the space between you growing with each passing mile.

Steve’s thoughts swirl as he drives. He can’t help but wonder if it’s the fear of last night still lingering, or if something deeper is at play. Maybe you don’t believe him, or maybe you’re just scared to believe it’s real. Either way, the distance between you both hurts in a way he didn’t expect. He thought that after everything, after all the danger, you two would finally have a chance to be honest with each other. But now, all he can do is drive, silently aching for a chance to bridge the gap—if you’d only let him.

[dixonsbrat]

𖥔 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐏 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒 𖥔

⊹ asking him to cum in you

⊹ being steve’s pretty little play thing

⊹ boyfriend!steve wanting to use your princess parts

⊹ feeling stressed so steve eats you out

⊹ giving stevie a handjob

⊹ late night fucks where steve fills you up

⊹ morning sex before he has to go to work

⊹ movie night with best friend!steve got a little carried away

⊹ passionate touchy makeout with stevie

⊹ showing fwb!steve your riding skills

⊹ sneaking up to frat!steve’s room while there’s a party downstairs

⊹ steve goes absolutely insane when you’re on top

⊹ steve moaning while you give him head

⊹ telling steve you’re ready to stop using condoms

⊹ the joy steve feels when he gets to cum inside you

⊹ what late night drives usually entail

⊹ when he comes home from work and needs you so bad

⊹ you and eddie wanting to pleasure steve

[ssweetleaf]

babies.

husband!steve harrington x wife!reader

summary: you finally tell steve that you’re ready for a baby.

includes: SMUT 18+, breeding kink, not really a daddy kink but he refers to himself as daddy lol, mating press, creampie, unprotected p in v

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Hang on— what did you say?”

Steve felt as if he was dreaming, completely delirious, struggling to stay on his feet when his knees started to buckle.

He clutched a quivering palm to his chest, as if in attempt to quell his heart, but nothing could sate the thick thumping that barrelled through his rib cage.

You smiled at him, a small, impish one that made his eyelids flutter and you stepped closer, smoothing your hands along his shoulders before resting upon the thickness of both biceps, squeezing only slightly— just for your benefit, of course.

You knew it was something he’d desperately wanted to hear for a long while, so you spoke slowly, hoping the few words you spoke would register properly.

Because this was real. Such a big step, something that Steve had always dreamt of, but you not quite. It took a good few years for you to succumb to the idea of raising kids; a pretty house and a small wedding— even a few cats roamed around your home, so you knew that something was missing, something you now wanted desperately in your life.

“I want to try for a baby, Steve.” You spoke, watching his doe eyes grow even rounder, little tears threatening to ebb while he felt all melty and gooey, moving forward to shakily cup your cheeks and bring you closer towards him.

Steve nuzzled his nose against yours, sighing out a big breath and sponging a sweet, chaste little kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“I don’t know what to say, honey, I’m—” he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut, his thumbs lazily circling the apples of your cheeks. “I’m so fucking happy.”

—

So, the two of you fucked like rabbits— for hours and hours, multiple times a day, the mere feeling of his raw length inside you had you creaming around him in minutes, and it was much akin for Steve, the soft, gummy walls of your cunt squeezing around him with no barrier between the two of you.

It felt like heaven.

Steve had insisted that you both have sex as regular as you could, the need to have you pregnant, to make it stick, needed to be quenched, and you nodded along like the doting little wife you were.

“My pretty honey,” he cooed, pressing your knees firmly against your heaving chest, holding you in a mating press whilst he fucked his thick cock into your spasming pussy.

Sweat beaded along his hairline, breathless from his hard thrusts— he had already came inside of you three times that same day, however you knew he wouldn’t let up until he saw those two red lines that told him what he’d wanted to hear.

“Gotta give you my babies, don’t I, hon?” He uttered, moaning breathily into the stuffy air— his full, round balls smacking against your ass with every inward thrust, so full of cum and ready to breed. “Gotta be thorough now, baby— want you nice ‘n��� round.”

He was babbling, words slurring into something almost nonsensical— his pretty lips sponged at any piece of skin he could find, mouthing and suckling with a desperation that shone in his honeyed eyes.

Your pussy practically sucked him in, letting his ruddy tip nudge at the spot so deep inside you, that had you clenching and fluttering.

“Fuck, jus’ wanna be a daddy so bad,” he whined, “and once we have our first, we’ll have another, and another, and another— oh fuck.”

He was fisting the pillow underneath your head, muscles drawn tight, trying so hard to keep his eyes open and not let them flutter closed— trying hard to keep his eyes on you.

“But don’t worry, honey baby,” he sighed with a smile, still thrusting as deep as he could, his thumb moving to rub at your clit. “You’ll still be daddy’s best girl— daddy’s favourite, I’ll make sure of it.”

You whined. He was so filthy, so crude, as soon as his big dick would slip inside of you he’d be gone, so stupid, completely pussy drunk. Silly boy.

“You ready for it, hon?” He cooed, nuzzling his nose into your cheek, “ready for my cum, pretty girl?”

You nodded, uttering a small ‘yes, Stevie’ through a moan and a sigh, clenching hard and quivering around him, ready to cum yourself.

The sheer need to be filled had you delirious.

“Yeah, gonna fill you up— gonna put a sweet baby in that pretty tummy of yours,” he hummed, “that sound good?”

“Sounds s’good, Stevie,” you whined, struggling to keep hold of your legs, your limbs shaky when you tried to keep your knees pressed against you. “Wan’ it so bad, want your cum— want your babies.”

He nodded fervently, hair whipping in every which way, dick throbbing in you hotly, the taut veins pulsing with every inward thrust— so, so close and ready to burst.

“I know ya do, hon— you ready to take it? You ready to take another load, baby?” He whined, squeezing his eyes shut, thrusts turning sloppy and erratic, “I know you’re so full, can barely fit anymore cum inside this poor pussy, huh?”

“Can take it, Stevie,” you spoke, fluttering your lashes, your lips all pouty and pink, “promise.”

And with one, two, three thrusts, he stilled inside of you, so deep, tip kissing your cervix before shooting his thick, pearly ropes of cum inside you, hoping to fill you with his Harrington prodigy, to make all the babies he could wish for.

Steve kept your legs raised, pulling them from your chest to place above his shoulders, keeping your back arched.

“Gotta make sure it takes,” he whispered, stroking at your calf before pressing a little kiss to your ankle. “think this is the one, honey.”

[headkiss]

fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

𝜗𝜚

Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

-

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

-

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

-

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

-

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

-

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, ���I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

-

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

-

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

-

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

-

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

-

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

-

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you think!! it helps more than you know <3

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3.4K] request from anon: what about Steve teaching reader how to really kiss? Like she’s only ever had bad ones before? 

“Sloppy?” Steve grimaced, smiling through your word choice despite the disappointment he felt for you. 

You shrugged, nose crinkled as you remembered. “Yeah. Wet, y’know? And not like— it was just too much…tongue.”

There was a silence, a sad kind that filled the room. Steve wasn’t sure what to say. You kind of regretted telling the boy. So you sighed and shrugged it off again, biting the head off of red Sour Patch Kid.

“Maybe I just don’t like making out,” you sounded defeated and Steve hated it, frowning as he watched you chew your candy mournfully, your back pressed to the side of his unmade bed. “That’s normal, right? Like, some people just don’t like things like that and—”

“Hey, hey,” Steve knocked his foot against yours, legs stretched out across his bedroom floor. The pack of playing cards had been abandoned beside some unopened twizzlers and Steve’s can of cherry soda. “Look, of course that’s normal. And— and if that’s how you feel, that’s totally okay, alright?”

The boy hesitated, worried his bottom lip between his teeth and wondered if he should keep talking. You watched him, brows raised expectantly. 

“I just think—” Steve cleared his throat, his pointer finger dragging patterned across his carpet. He shrugged, all faux nonchalance. He didn’t want to sound like a creep, not to his best friend. Not to you. “I just think that maybe you’ve not had a good kiss, y’know?”

You didn’t answer, not right away. And Steve didn’t try and backtrack, or explain himself, he just waited, watching you think. His bedroom window was open, the sounds of the early evening slipping through. Someone’s backyard pool filter, their sprinklers out the front, the quiet spin of a kids bike going down the sidewalk.  

You didn’t look at Steve when you finally asked, “well, what is a good kiss?”

You felt stupid, asking such a thing at your age but maybe you’d grown up picking all the wrong kinds of guys. Impatient boys, greedy boys, selfish boys. Boys who turned into men who didn’t have the time of day to take it slow with a girl like you. Boys who thought they were men, who used too much teeth and tongue and pressure and tasted like cheap party beer and the leftover smoke of their cigarette. 

Guys who got too handsy too quick, guys who didn’t care that when they pulled away from your lips, you swiped the back of your hand over your mouth and tried not to frown. 

Steve shifted a little, cheeks turning pink as his eyes found yours. “Well,” he gestured at you, awkward. His gaze settled on your lips before he blinked and looked away. “I mean, it helps when you really like the person, y’know? The uh, the chemistry of it all.”

You swallowed, throat feeling tight, chest feeling too warm. You remember Nancy talking about those kinds of feelings when she first kissed Jonathan, a dopey, soft smile on her lips as she recounted it, telling you of the buzz under her skin, the flips that her stomach did when he leaned in to meet her, eyes closing. 

“Sure,” you agreed. You don’t think you’d ever felt that way about the boys you had kissed. “Right.”  

“But I guess you’re supposed to take your time with it? I mean, at first, when you’re getting to know someone.” Steve smiled, soft, reassuring. His knee knocked yours. “You find out what they like.”

“What they like?” You asked, voice cracking a little. You didn’t know where to look, what to do with your hands. You picked up a green sour patch and bit its leg. “What does that mean?”

Steve looked bashful, miles apart from the boy you’d know in high school, with a girl on his arm in the hallways, a different one in his lap at a party that weekend. 

“I’d, uh, I mean— person A would go slow with person B, right? They’d start soft. Gentle, I guess? You gotta— they’d have to figure out how the other person likes to be kissed. Not everyone shoves their tongue down your throat, y’know.”

You huffed out a laugh but it sounded weak, too breathy. You wanted the boy to keep talking, you wanted to watch his pink cheeks and his pretty eyes dart across your face, like he was searching for something. 

You wondered if he’d find it. 

“Not everyone?” You whispered. 

“No,” Steve shook his head, his smile wry. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and he was closer now, closer than before and you could smell his cologne, the cherry soda fizz that hung in the air along with Mr Jackson’s freshly mown grass. “No, no, not everyone. I’d give the girl a peck at first, yeah? Just something PG-13. Then, when she relaxes and you know, she moves closer, kisses me back, I’d—”

Steve broke off, blinking like he was getting rid of something hazy. He’d been looking at you as he spoke, words coming too easy, the air between you both warm despite the setting sun. He licked his lips, suddenly nervous, awkward again, a bashful thing that made him suddenly even more endearing than you thought he ever could be. 

“You’d what, Steve?” You blinked, feeling warm, wondering if the boy could tell. You didn’t know what to do so you moved, leaning forward until you could fold your legs underneath yourself and your thigh bumped Steve’s shin. “You’d what?”

Steve’s eyes searched yours, his gaze falling to your lips and back again. You thought he found it then, that thing he seemed to be looking for. Because he cleared his throat and let one hand fall to the carpet between you, his fingers brushing over your socked toes and you almost jumped at the contact. 

The silence was too loud now. 

“I could show you, if you wanted.”

Someone’s lawn mower started up a few yards over, white noise buzzing in the distance as you tried to take in what Steve had just said. He was watching you, head tilted to the side, cheeks still rosy and when you looked at him carefully, you could see the barely concealed panic in his brown eyes. 

He pressed his lips together and tried to smile, tight and nervous and he was picking at the carpet, fingers fidgeting as you sat there dumbly. You heard the shake in his voice when he tried to say, “I am—,” he choked on his words, panicked. “—so, so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

“Steve,” you stopped the boy with a hand on his shin, your warm palm against the denim. “We’re friends, right?”

The word seemed to burn on your tongue, like it tasted like a lie, like it was as dangerous as one. You waited, breath held, wondering if you wanted Steve to agree or not. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, suddenly so serious. “Yeah, yeah, ‘course we are.” He worried at his bottom lip again, looking at your own. “Best friends.”

You nodded, tongue feeling too big for your mouth to speak. Words felt clumsy, your skin too warm. Buzzing. Fizzing. You weren’t sure if it was you or the air. 

“Show me.”

You thought Steve would maybe hesitate, maybe he’d back out or shout, ‘got you!’ like those prank shows Dustin liked to watch. You thought he’d maybe lay down some rules, maybe he’d tell you how this didn’t mean anything and really, he was only doing his sad friend a favour. 

He didn’t do any of that. In fact he didn’t say anything else at all. Steve just let out a breath and nodded once, almost to himself before he let his hand curl around the back of your calf and he tugged, gentle. 

He lifted his chin, a casual ‘c’mere’ that had your heart thundering and you wondered if this confidence, this way of acting so sure of himself, was how he got all the girls. 

A quiet sort of assertiveness that made your stomach flip inside out. 

You unfurled yourself from your sitting position, shuffling to your knees as you moved across Steve’s bedroom floor, bare shins burning against the carpet. You leaned back on your heels, brought yourself down to Steve’s level where he sat against his wall, legs stretched out before him. 

He didn’t warn you when he brought his hand to your face, fingers cupping your cheek and his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth and you were suddenly left wondering when Steve’s hands had gotten so big. You’d watched him grow, from a middle school kid to king Steve the senior. You’d seen the new muscles, the height, the hair. You’d never noticed his hands before but now they were on you, it’s all you could think about.

Dizzy. You felt dizzy. 

“Okay?” Was all he asked, voice softer and quieter now he was so much closer. 

You nodded, face too warm and licking across your bottom lip like a reflex. You weren’t sure where to look. Or where to put your hands. Most kisses you’d shared had happened in the crowds at parties or in the front seat of a boy’s car after a date. You usually lay your palms on their shoulders, holding on and wondering if every boy took these opportunities to grope your ass like a pile of dough. 

“We can stop,” Steve told you. He looked nervous and if anything, it made you feel more anxious than ever. “Whenever you want, ‘kay?” 

You nodded again, unable to really speak, too scared that your voice would crack or something equally stupid would happen. And maybe Steve knew this, maybe he knew you so much better than you ever thought he would, because he smiled and nodded too. 

“Okay,” he announced, quiet and soft and he was moving closer, noses bumping, his eyes fluttering shut. “Here goes.”

“Wait.”

Steve paused, gaze back on your own and he looked concerned, he looked worried and before he could ask you what was wrong you were sucking in a panicked breath and asking: “what if I’m the bad kisser?”

“What?” Steve let out a laugh, breathy and disbelieving and he was still so close, his hand on your jaw and his thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the apple of your cheek. He was shaking his head, smiling, looking too pretty and suddenly this seemed like a monumental thing, something gargantuan. “No, there’s no way.”

You squirmed on the floor, shifting further and then closer and Steve loosened his hold on you but you didn’t go anywhere. You just blinked at him, pained with worry. “How could you know?”

Steve paused as he thought and you wondered if he had an answer, if he was going to say something truthful or he was simply thinking of something sweet to say to placate you. Instead, he looked into your eyes and seemed to search for that… thing, again. 

I— I just—” Steve didn’t say anything, he didn’t give you an explanation or a reason. 

He simply pressed his lips to yours. 

It was chaste and sweet and entirely innocent, lips closed and nothing close to scandalous. But then he parted from you just a breath, looking at you from heavy lidded eyes, watching you from beneath his lashes. And when you didn’t move, you didn’t panic, Steve leaned in again, kissing you the same way until he nudged your chin up with his hand and his lips slotted between your own. 

He moved slowly, carefully, with a practised ease that made your toes curl and it was still sweet, it made your tummy warm and your head spin and Steve’s lips were soft, tasting like cherry soda and sugar. 

You caught up after a beat or two, your hand that wasn’t braced on the floor reaching up to cling to where you could reach. Your fingers found the collar of Steve’s t-shirt, fisting the soft material and doing everything to make sure he didn’t move away. You moved with him, lips meeting and parting over and over until Steve sucked in a breath and tilted his head to the other side, pressing closer, a little deeper. 

After another soft peck, he pulled away, eyes still closed and his thumb on your chin as he whispered, voice hoarse. “See? Nothin’ to worry about.” He brushed your hair behind your ear, pressed his fingers under your jaw. “And now, a guy should be testing the waters, right?”

“They should?” You whispered back. Your eyes were still closed too, your fingers sneaking up past Steve’s collar to stroke at the skin at the base of his throat, experimental, adventurous. “How’d they do that?”

You were sure you felt the boy smile, sensed it. A warm breath across your lips as he moved closer again. “Like this—” 

Another kiss, the same as before, once, twice and then Steve was parting his mouth over your own and letting the tip of his tongue lick over your bottom lip. It was a fleeting touch, a zap, a buzz, a tingle down your spine and you gasped without thinking about it, lips parting for the boy and you followed suit, tongue moving past Steve’s lips to meet his own. 

He groaned then, a vibration against you, his hand skating back from your cheek to thread into your hair and he let his tongue move over your own, lips clicking every time they parted. It was slower than you’d been kissed before, something sensual about it despite being sat on your best friend’s bedroom floor and it made your insides somersault, the skin where Steve slouched burning. 

“Told you,” he murmured, breath heavy as he spoke. “Nothing to worry about,” he repeated and when you finally opened your eyes to look at him, face blazing with heat, Steve was looking at you like he didn’t know what to do with himself. 

“Mhmm,” you agreed, barely listening, eyes still on the boy’s mouth, fingering the collar of his shirt, not ready to let go yet. “You must be a good teacher, or something.”

Steve looked distracted, Adam’s apple bobbing, gaze on your lips too. You weren’t sure he had stopped looking at them. “Yeah, yeah. Or something.” He swallowed, throat tight. “Do you wanna stop? Or—?”

“No,” you said, maybe too quickly. “Do you?”

“God, no,” Steve agreed just as fast. “You can keep going— just— what do you want…?”

Steve’s words died on his lips as you moved suddenly, rising to your knees only to push Steve back to the wall. His hands fell to his sides, hovering in mid air as he stared, watching as you swung a leg over his knees and sat carefully on his lap. You were cautious, more on his thighs that closer to anything else but you tried to breathe evenly as you took in the position. 

“Okay?” You asked him, voice caught sticky in your throat with nerves but Steve nodded, head bobbing hurriedly. You sucked in a breath, smoothing your hands over Steve’s shoulders before you did as he had, smoothing them up the sides of his neck and holding his jaw carefully. “What do I do now?”

‘Whatever you want,’ Steve wanted to beg. But apparently this was a lesson of sorts and he  had something to teach you. So he cleared his throat to make sure his voice wouldn’t crack and held your hips, hands gentle and polite. “You, uh, you find out what I like.”

You nails scratched at the back of his neck, unconsciously. You licked your lips. “How do I do that?”

Steve’s hands flexed on your hips, climbing to your waist, holding you a little tighter. Something seemed to shift then, his eyes lighting up. He looked like he was ready to fight, like you’d asked him if he were up for a challenge. It made you grin. 

“Kiss me.”

 So you did. 

You did as Steve had at the start, kissing him soft and slow and chaste, pulling away before he could catch you, teasing, nose bumping his and breaths mixing, cherry soda to fizzy candy. And just before Steve was about to groan, frustrated, you shifted closer, chest pressed to his and you parted your lips, catching his bottom lip between your own. 

It was a greedier kiss and Steve let his head fall back against the wall with a dull thunk, opening his mouth for you, nails digging into your sides when you licked over his tongue, exploratory, gentle. You felt him nod, the tip of his nose smushed to your cheek and you smiled, amused at his praise. 

“Like that?” You asked, breathless, barley parting from him to speak. 

“Yeah, like that,” Steve agreed, sounding just as wrecked. “Keep going, please.”

He didn’t have to ask again. Fuck, he didn’t even have to ask as nicely as he did because you were back on him in a heartbeat, kissing your best friend like you didn’t want him to remember anyone else. 

“Slower,” he whispered, muttering instructions against your mouth and you didn’t feel scolded, you didn’t feel embarrassed you just followed Steve’s instructions, pulling back slightly to kiss him softer, lips moving with his slower, slower, slower. 

You heard him groan, felt his chest rumble and his hands squeeze at you in silent praise and you knew then he liked it like that, liked to be teased. You nosed at his cheek, did as he had done and pushed your thumb under his jaw to bring his mouth up to yours, his head tipping back, back, back. You pecked over his cheeks then, over the bridge of his nose and at the corner of his lips until he was panting, waiting for you. 

“Yeah?” Was all you asked. 

“Yeah,” he hummed, feeling like he was vibrating. He let his eyes shutter closed, waiting for your next touch. “Yeah.”

You felt bolder, brazen, pushing your lips back to Steve’s and when you pulled away this time, you nipped at the boy’s bottom lip, pulling at it gently with your teeth and until it popped softly back into place and Steve swore, he cursed, he grunted and his hips shifted under yours. 

“You like that,” you noted with a smile and it wasn’t a question. 

Steve didn’t speak, he couldn’t. Instead he stared up at you and nodded, dazed, throat bobbing as he swallowed tightly and tried to get himself under control. 

You moved into each other again without discussion, an unconscious need that didn’t need a conversation. Your hands went to his hair, holding onto the messy ends at the nape of his neck as his travelled the expanse of your back, fingertips lifting the hem of your shirt every downstroke, his skin on yours. It was enough for you to make soft noises against him, nudging closer and Steve helped, his hands pulling at your waist until your chest pressed against his and were seated over his crotch. 

You felt him then, hard and pressed underneath his jeans and it made you kiss him like you had something to prove, mouths moving together, open and panting, tongues touching teasingly, teeth grazing against lips to try and make the other moan louder. 

And when Steve’s garage door opened, a groaning, grating sound below his window, it was an interruption that told you both his father had arrived home. 

You slid from his lap, chest heaving and eyes heavy on Steve’s pink cheeks. His lips were shiny from your work, his hands leaving your waist at the very last second, your butt hitting his carpet rather ungracefully as you backed away, suddenly so aware of the line that had been crossed. 

You were burning still, an ache between your legs that hadn’t quite been satisfied and your lips buzzed from Steve’s kisses, the slow, careful way he’d pressed his to your own. He’d paid attention, you realised, picked up on every noise you made, every shift against him, the way you kissed him back eagerly when he did something you liked. And you’d done the same, taking in his gasps and sighs, stomach flipping when his hips bucked and his chest moved a little quicker than before. 

Your fingers touched your bottom lip before you pressed the back of your hand to it, as if to hide the evidence. Steve was still staring at you, panting, doing nothing to hide the obvious bulge in his jeans. 

And when his front door opened and closed and you could hear his fathers footsteps lead into his office, Steve stayed quiet. Only when the sound of the door clicking shut filled the silent house did he smile, boyish and all charm.

“See?” He reminded you, cheeks still burning. His hair was a mess from where you’d pulled on it. He looked rumpled, undone at the seams. “Told you, you weren’t a bad kisser.”

[lovebugism]

do something with king steve who secretly likes female/shy/reader

hope u like it xoxo — the one where king steve keeps his best girl a secret (shy!fem!r, secret relationship, fluff, 1.2k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

“Boo!”

You jump when a figure appears suddenly behind the door of your opened locker. They’re wearing bell bottoms and a sparkly clip in their strawberry curls. Carol Perkins giggles when her attempts to scare you work. Tommy Hagan follows just behind her, laughing louder until his freckled face scrunches together.

The only reassuring thing about seeing both of them together is knowing Steve isn’t too far behind. He’s got his tongue in his cheek, and his arms crossed over his chest, visibly unamused.  “What are you guys— three?” he scoffs, pushing the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows.

“Yeah, three inches deep in your mom,” Tommy retorts with a boyish chuckle.

Carol squints her made-up eyes at him. She deadpans, “That’s not the comeback you think it is, Hagan.”

You turn to Steve with a panicked glimmer in your eye. You’re so used to being the butt of all their jokes that being in their proximity now fills you with something close to ice-cold dread. You peer at the boy beside you with pinched-together brows, knowing he’s the only one who cares about you past cheating off your homework.

“What’s going on?” you wonder quietly, for only him to hear.

Steve grins, brows raised and eyes twinkling. “My house is gonna be empty tonight. ‘Cause, you know, my dad’s got a work conference or whatever, so… No parents. Big house—”

“A total recipe for disaster,” Tommy interjects with a laugh.

“You’re throwing a party?” you ask, voice trembling. There’s little more that scares you than crowds — well, crowds and loud music and drunk people. Parties were never your scene. Steve knows that better than anyone.

He corrects you quickly, stammering over himself because he never wants you to feel uncomfortable. “No! No, not a party. It’s gonna be lowkey. Just a— a get-together, you know? Just the four of us.”

“Ooh,” Carol croons from behind you. “So no priss?”

“Shut up, Carol,” Steve snaps.

“I’m just used to you following her around like a lost puppy, that’s all.” Carol and Tommy laugh about it together. ‘Cause that’s all they’re really good at — making stupid jokes and cackling like supervillains.

Steve rolls his eyes with an annoyed huff and turns his attention back to you. You take it from him wholly, every ounce of his focus. 

There was something ethereal in your vagueness — in how softly you spoke and how pretty you looked when you weren’t even trying. You’re quiet and mysterious and hidden. Steve desperately wants to be the one that deciphers you.

“Are you in?” he asks in a low, honeyed tone.

Your gaze falls to the tile. “I don’t know…” you murmur.

“C’mon,” he croons and steps closer to you. His sneakers enter your vision until you look up at him again, peering at him from beneath your lashes. His grin is pink and pretty and lopsided. “Don’t leave me with these assholes all night.”

“Dick,” you hear Tommy scoff from behind you. He sounds much further away than that ‘cause all you can see now is Steve. And his pretty hair and his pretty eyes and his stupid pretty smile.

You cave instantly. 

You never really stood a chance, anyway. Not with the way he was looking at you.

“I’ll think about it,” you mumble and turn back to your locker. You switch your English textbook for a History one and cradle it in your arms. Steve grins, knowing he’s forgotten his on purpose just so he could sit next to you all period.

“Good,” the boy hums.

“We’re finally wearing Wallflower down,” Carol muses, giggling to herself.

Tommy knocks you too hard on the shoulder. “You’ll be one of us in no time,” he grins.

You grimace as they walk off down the hall. That’s the last thing you’ve ever wanted. The thought of there being an ounce of similarities between you and them makes your stomach ache.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Steve tells you, smiling quietly when you nod. 

He reaches into the pocket of his jeans and passes you a folded-up piece of paper. He doesn’t look back at you when he follows his friends down the corridor. You don’t open it until he’s gone.

West wing chem lab, he’s written in chicken scratch. Come find me. 

—————

The hallway at the west end of the school is dim and empty. The floors are untouched, and the lockers are sparingly opened. The air is thick and noticeably stale. You open the door to the old chemistry room with a high-pitched squeak that sounds like something out of a horror movie.

Steve waits for you in the dark classroom, lit only by the natural sunlight streaming in through translucent curtains. He sits at a table in front of the window and toys with the burner at the end of it. He turns the thin blue flame on and off and on again, silently wishing he’d plucked a cigarette from Tommy before he left.

His honey eyes flit to yours when you walk into the room. He grins at the soft smirk on your bitten lips. “What’s that look for, huh?” he teases, turning off the burner and sliding off the desk.

You shrug. “Nothin’…”

“I missed you.”

You scoff when he wraps his arms around you. His wide palms smooth over your back. “You just saw me.”

“It doesn’t count when I’m with Tommy and Carol. I need you all to myself…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs lowly, ducking down to kiss you. His plush lips lock with yours, tasting of nicotine and chewing gum — a near-lethal concoction. He smiles against your mouth when you melt further into him. He parts from you with a gentle smack.

“They’re starting to like me, I think,” you mumble, smoothing your hands over his chest. “Tommy and Carol.”

“I think so, too.”

“It’s awful.”

“Absolutely disgusting,” he concurs, grinning wide when you giggle.

“But, you know, maybe we wouldn’t have to hide anymore,” you stammer, gaze falling when it becomes too hard to hold his. “If they don’t think I’m, like, the lamest person on the planet.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “What do you mean?”

“Well, that’s why you don’t want them to know about us, right? ‘Cause you’re King Steve, and I’m… fish bait,” you conclude with a forced laugh.

“No,” he answers instantly. “What? No. That’s not— That’s not why.”

“Oh.”

“I don’t want them to know about us because they’re assholes,” Steve confesses. “I mean, they were awful to Nancy when we were together. ‘Cause they’re miserable, and they hate when other people are actually nice. I just don’t want them to… ruin anything, that’s all…”

You muss with a rogue thread at the neckline of his sweater and smile quietly to yourself. “I thought you were scared because you accidentally fell in love with the Wallflower instead of the Prom Queen.”

Steve scoffs. “I didn’t accidentally fall in love with you, first of all.”

“No?” you murmur, brow quirking in disbelief. 

“No, it was very intentional.”

“I don’t believe that,” you argue with a lighthearted chuckle. You think it’s easier than saying, I don’t believe you because there’s no way you love someone like me because you want to.

Steve’s palms squeeze your sides reassuringly, like he can hear all the mean thoughts swirling in your head. “Well, you didn’t make it any easier on me,” he tells you, a crooked smile tugging at his pink lips. “You started talkin’ all smart in Ms. Click’s class, and I started melting.”

“That’s when you knew you liked me?” you scoff. “After I gave a presentation about geopolitical tensions in China?”

He exhales sharply through his nose, licking his lips with heavy eyelids. “See what I mean? That’s hot.”

“God, you’re such a boy.”

[pretentious-blonde]

insecurity

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: after you become closer to a certain metalhead, steve can't stop the insecurities that stem from his previous relationship. when it all becomes too much, you are left to deal with his outrage.

warnings: arguments, angst, steve is mean, panic attack (fluff ending ofc)

a/n: idk, this was supposed to be short and sweet but i got carried away!

The bell above you jingled as you entered Family Video, stopping briefly to glance around the shop for a certain brown-haired boy who had managed to capture your heart a little over six months ago. It didn’t take long to spot him, a grin plastered on his face as he stood behind the counter. With crossed arms, leaning his hip against the wooden edge, nodding along half-heartedly to whatever Robin was saying. She sat cross-legged on the desk, arms moving wildly as she spoke, her face lighting up as she noticed your presence. 

“There she is! Finally, I can’t tolerate this man for much longer,” she says with a huff, kicking her feet off the counter and pointing at Steve who was clearly not as into the conversation as she was. His attention hasn’t strayed from you since you came in. “Your turn.”

“Lucky for you,” he begins, briefly glancing in Robin’s direction, pointing back towards her as you rounded the corner to emphasise his point. “She tolerates me for hours.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek as you leaned into him, whispering a hello before smirking in Robin’s direction. “I’d say it’s more than tolerating,” you add.

Steve has a smug look on his face at your comment, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. You can feel the warmth he radiates through his jumper, his fingers finding your jaw to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. 

The moment between you both was swiftly interrupted by a loud gagging noise. “Okay. I’m third-wheeling. Gross.” Robin stated as she hopped off her makeshift throne with a huff.

You roll your eyes, still trapped in Steve’s embrace, not ready to let go just yet. “You sure you’re not just jealous Rob?”

“Pssh,” she scoffs as she throws a VHS tape from one hand to the other. “Sure. If I wanted someone who can’t alphabetise for shit, then yes. I’d be all over Harrington.”

“Ouch,” Steve pipes up from your side. “Also I don’t want to hear anything from you after what you did to the returns bin. It’s chaos.”

“Organised chaos, maybe,” she replies as she points the VHS directly at Steve. “My system is far superior.”

You glance over at your boyfriend, a look of disbelief at her previous statement, he was about to interrupt but Robin quickly changed the subject. “I thought you were supposed to come by here yesterday? Or was I making that up?”

“Oh, I was. But Dustin asked me last minute if I was free,” you tell her. “He introduced to to his friend—Eddie? I think he mentioned him before. We all hung out for a bit.”

The words slip out of your mouth naturally and a small smile graces your lips as you remember the day before. What you don’t notice is the way Steve stiffens beside you. His hand, which was fitted perfectly against your shoulder, tensed slightly. Unbeknownst to you. 

“Eddie?” He asks, forcing his voice to stay light and cheerful. He wouldn’t dream of dampening your bright mood. Not when you had gone out of your way to drop by and see him. Although, that fact did nothing to stop the unsettling feeling in his stomach. 

You nod enthusiastically as he pays you his full attention, admiring the way your hair bounces along with your movements. It briefly distracts him from overthinking, that is, until you open your pretty mouth again. “Yeah, you know Dustin—he’s always finding new people to drag into his D&D world. Eddie’s super into it, too.”

His jaw tightens, his smile falters and he hopes to god you don’t notice, masking it with a casual nod. Eddie Munson, he thinks and cannot help the bitterness he feels. Of course, he remembers the metal head from high school, Dustin had been mentioning him more too. He never cared about popularity, the social hierarchy. Just… did his own thing. No matter what others thought of him. 

Steve was all Ralph Lauren polos and Members Only jackets, tender smiles and sickly sweet kisses. Eddie was band patches and ripped jeans, unapologetic and confident. Not like Steve at all. The total opposite in fact.

He glances at you in the corner of his eye, then quickly back to the counter, the knot in his chest growing tighter. He knew, he knew, he was reading too much into it, but he just couldn’t stop himself. Especially after Nancy broke his heart. It was only when he met you that it began to heal again. 

Is that what you’re into? The carefree, rebellious type? While Steve has spent his entire high school career trying to fit the mold, Eddie has smashed it. And what did he have to show for it? A washed-up ex-popular kid working at a video store? Not a lot, clearly.

“So… what did you guys get up to?” He asks, fiddling with the pen on the desk, trying to act as indifferent as possible. 

“Not much. Just hung out, talked about D&D for a bit,” you reply with a shrug. “Dustin thinks he is some kind of genius when it comes to that game.”

Robin chimes into the conversation, unaware of the tension radiating from the brunette next to you. “Well, if you’re into D&D Eddie is the go-to around here,” she tells you. “It sounds like you’re his next recruit.”

Steve’s laugh is forced this time, and you notice it, a small frown appearing on your face. He curses himself internally, quickly leaning over to place a kiss on the side of your head, a reassuring gesture for the both of you. “Sounds fun,” he says softly. “Maybe next time I could tag along.”

Just so he can see what Eddie’s intentions are, see if he is testing his luck with you. He has already lost one girlfriend to another guy so it seemed like a normal thing to investigate. Nothing weird about that… right?

You laugh and shake your head, patting his broad chest playfully. “Trust me, Steve, you don’t have to do that. D&D is certainly not your thing.”

He deflated at your statement, even though it was definitely true. He lets out a chuckle to ease the insecurity he is feeling. “Yeah, I’ll leave the nerd stuff to Dustin and Eddie,” he says, trying to play it off as nothing serious. 

You see the sad look that penetrates his features, mistaking it for him just feeling left out. You grab his hand and give it a small squeeze. “Am I still alright to come over to your tomorrow? Evening sound good?” You ask, hoping he could see how much you still wanted to spend time with him, despite your new friend.

“Of course, angel,” he replies, completely melting at the soft tone of your voice, looking up at him with those gentle eyes of yours. You could probably make him do anything with that expression on your face. He can’t resist stealing another kiss from you when you look like that. You smile up at him as he reluctantly pulls away. 

“Okay, great!” You wave as you make your way to the door, bell ringing as you open it. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He watches you leave until you are no longer visible, the tightness in his stomach easing ever so slightly at the thought of having you all to himself tomorrow. Just him. His girl. 

As soon as he turns around, Robin is smirking directly at him, arms crossed across her chest. “So, what’s the deal with Eddie?” She asks, her tone teasing. “You gonna join Hellfire now?”

Steve rolls his eyes at her, already dreading the incoming round of quips. “Hell no, I’m not touching that stuff.”

“Aw, c’mon Steve. I think you would make a great dungeon master,” she doesn’t even bother trying to hide the laugh that is bubbling in her throat. “You certainly are dramatic enough for it, you know? ‘King Steve’ and all that.”

“Yeah right,” he mutters, growing more irritated by the second. He usually had all the time in the world for her jabs, but currently? The tapes in his hands were the most interesting thing in the world to him as he tried to brush her off. “I’m retired from the whole ‘king’ thing, remember?”

She grins as she leans across the wooden counter, standing on her tiptoes to get closer to him. “True, true. But at least we know Eddie is pretty chill now, we don’t just have to take Dustin’s word for it.”

There it is, that name again—Eddie. He says nothing as he grabs more tapes off the side. Not that it served any purpose, just anything to keep his hands busy and mind preoccupied. 

“I mean, I have never really spoken to him,” she continued as she paced the shop floor, stopping only to place another VHS in her ‘newly organised’ returns section. “But he’s got that whole ‘rebel without a cause’ thing going on. You know? It’s pretty admirable.”

Yeah, I know, Steve thinks sourly. That’s precisely the problem. He does know. The free spirit who never once cared about fitting in, or pleasing anyone, and now here he was—Dustin’s new best friend and the subsequent new guy in your life. 

“Yeah, well,” Steve forces out another fake laugh, just as badly hidden as the first. “Good for him.”

Robin turns to face him directly, noticing the strain in his voice. “You’re not… jealous, are you?”

Her question catches him off guard, fumbling with the tape in his hand and nearly dropping it. “What? No. Why would I be jealous of Eddie Munson?”

“Alright, alright, no need to get defensive,” she holds her hands up in surrender, her eyes still trained on him. “It’s just… I don’t know. You’re acting weird?”

He didn’t respond right away, focusing on a blank point between two VHS tapes in front of him, he repeated the question in his mind. Weird? He wasn’t being weird. Was he?

Shrugging his shoulders casually, he glances at the clock, suddenly wishing for the small arms to go faster so he could see you again—just the two of you. No Eddie. No distractions. Just you and him alone. Maybe then he could stop himself from spiralling. He couldn’t get the thought out of his mind for the rest of his shift, not when he had seen this story play out once before, with him ending up on the losing side. 

Laughter filled the cramped space of Eddie’s trailer. Dustin had invited you over here a few hours earlier and now here you were, doubled over on his couch, clutching at your sides as Eddie continues his ridiculous story. “And then—then he turned around and slammed right into the closet door! Swear to God, I thought he was gonna be out cold!” He finished, completely in stitches at his own tale. 

Dustin was practically rolling on the floor at this point, teeth on full show as he tried to get his words out cohesively. “How did you find these people, Eddie?!” He gasped between his giggles. 

You were wiping away the tears from your eyes, way past the point of caring if your makeup was smudged. As you came back to reality, you glanced over at the clock, freezing completely as you registered the time. 

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, your stomach dropping. “Guys, I gotta go. Like—like right now.”

You immediately leapt up off the worn-out couch, grabbing your jacket in a hurry and shoving your feet into your shoes. You had about ten minutes to be at Steve’s front door and had completely lost track of the time. “He’s gonna kill me,” you mumbled under your breath as you reached for your bag. Even though it wasn’t true, it was more likely he would be moping around the living room, glancing at the front door every couple of minutes awaiting your arrival. Just sad that he couldn’t get to spend more time with you. Steve didn’t get angry with you. Ever. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, his form still draped across the couch. “What’s the rush princess? Hot date with Steve?”

You briefly glanced over in his direction, looking increasingly flustered. “Well, yeah,” you admitted. “I was supposed to be there, uh, now.”

Before you could bolt out the door, you heard a groan coming from across the room. “Don’t sweat it, I’ll drive you.” Eddie rose from his seat and grabbed his keys from the coffee table in front of him, twirling them around his finger. “No way I’m letting you bike all the way there.”

You blinked in surprise at his offer. “Really? Are you sure? You honestly don’t have to—“

Eddie waved his hand in your direction, ignoring your concern. “It’s no problem. Besides, I’m not gonna be responsible for you showing up at Steve’s all sweaty and out of breath. The guy would kill me,” He shot a teasing grin in your direction as he headed to the door, holding it open as both you and Dustin ducked under his arm, heading straight for his van. 

The journey was easy, with Eddie being a surprisingly safe driver, music as loud as his personality. In between the heavy guitar riffs that thumped through the radio, he turned to you with a mischievous expression. “So… you and Steve, huh?”

You felt the blush rise to your cheeks at his comment, not getting a chance to respond as he continued. “I just meant you’re good together, you know? I never really saw him as the ‘settle down with a girlfriend’ type. But hey, they say love changes a person.”

You drew your gaze away from the passing trees, unable to hold the smile that had spread across your face. “Yeah, he’s—he’s really great,” you admitted softly. You could barely put into words how great he was without gushing, so that small line would have to do for now. If Eddie only saw how Steve treated you, both in public and private, all his questions would certainly be answered. 

Steve may not have had the same chaotic energy as Eddie or Dustin, but that didn’t matter one bit. Steve was… solid. Reliable. He made you feel safe. Made you feel cherished. 

The long-haired boy next to you shrugged, his tone still kind. “Hey, if Dustin likes him, well that’s saying something. The kid is picky when it comes to his friends.”

Dustin, now making his presence known from the back seat, spoke up. “Damn right!” 

As Eddie pulled up in front of the large house, he leaned over the centre controls, giving you a playful nudge. “Don’t keep him waiting any longer. I bet he is pacing a hole in the floor.”

You playfully glare at him as you pop the door open. “He’s not that bad.”

“Sure,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Well, tell him Dustin and I said hey.”

“Will do,” you replied as you hopped out of the van. You waved at the two of them as they began to drive away, heavy metal music blaring as they faded into the distance. Your smile from Eddie’s previous comment was still lingering on your lips as you bounded up to the front door, excitedly ringing the bell. 

What you didn’t see was Steve had witnessed the entire interaction from his window—your expression as you laughed with Eddie and Dustin, how you looked so at ease and comfortable around them. You hadn’t even known them for that long. The sight twisted something ugly up inside of him, insecurities that were larger than he knew. He didn’t know how to handle them, the thought of being left behind. 

The door swung open after a few moments, and there stood your Steve, leaning casually against the door frame as he looked you up and down. God, he was whipped. “Hey, there you are,” he said with that classic, easy, Steve smile, relief washing over him the second he laid eyes on you. 

You took a step forward, eager to close the distance between the two of you as you wrapped your arms around his waist “Sorry I’m late.”

He chucked as he returned your embrace, sturdy arms enveloping you. “No worries, I’m always happy to wait.” 

The statement was true. Way too true, and that fact started to scare him.

You leaned up to press your lips against his, he was soft, familiar, and for a second, it felt like everything was perfect. He held the door open for you to step inside, the scent of his earthy cologne filled your senses. 

He followed you into the living room, watching you kick off your shoes, holding his arm out just in case you toppled over. He had made that mistake only once in the past, the bruise on your leg was huge. You’re clumsy nature may have been endearing, but he’ll be damned if you hurt yourself on his watch.  

“You didn’t ride your bike?” He asked, subtly trying to figure out exactly why you had gotten out of the familiar van. 

“I was lucky Eddie offered me a lift. I kind of lost track of time,” you said nonchalantly, kicking your shoes into the corner. 

His posture stiffened for the briefest moment at your confirmation. Honestly, he had hoped that what he saw five minutes earlier was just a figment of his imagination. “Oh, cool,” he forced himself to keep his tone light. “That was nice of him.”

You didn’t notice how fake the plastered smile on his face was as you settled onto the couch, already making yourself at home as you reached for the throw blanket. “So, what’s the plan for tonight hm? Movies? Snacks? Oh, did you order pizza?” You rambled, getting more excited with each question. It put his mind at ease a little bit to see you this giddy with excitement. If he let himself believe that he was the cause, maybe he could stop worrying. 

He beamed and moved to join you, resting his head against the pillows as he glanced down at your pure expression. “All of the above, sweetheart. But we are not repeating what you told me a few weeks ago that eating leftover pizza for breakfast was ‘nutritionally balanced’.”

You giggled as you unfurled the blanket, taking extra care to make sure he was fully covered. “It is balanced! Carbs, protein, maybe a vegetable if there’s a stray pepper.”

“Right,” Steve smirked as he drew out the word, trying to get on board with your reasoning. Reaching over for the remote to turn the movie on. 

As the credits for the cheesy rom-com rolled across the screen, you stretched your stiff body out.  You untucked yourself from his side, resulting in a frown from Steve, not quite ready to let you go yet. 

“I still don’t get why we always watch these,” you speak over the ending soundtrack. “All the girl ever does is swoon over the guy, ignoring all the red flags until it’s too late.”

He rests his arm on the back of the couch, placing his chin on top of it to give you his full attention. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a happy ending.”

You roll your eyes and nudge his foot with your own. “Such a romantic.”

Steve blushes before turning away, giving you a casual shrug. “I just like them. Who knows, I could always start serenading you under your window, the whole nine yards.”

“Serenade, huh?” You chuckle, angling your head to lean against his arm. “Do you even know how to play an instrument?”

He drew his face towards you, scrunching his nose in your direction. “I can learn. Get some guitar lessons.”

Maybe you like guitar. Eddie plays the guitar. 

You giggle at the mental image of Steve strumming clumsily, tongue poking out in concentration, getting frustrated with the sheet music that would be scattered around him. “Oh, I’d pay to see that.”

He runs his hand through your hair, admiring your soft features illuminated by only the TV screen. “You wouldn’t have to pay. If you wanted it, I’d do it for free.”

He meant every word. If it kept you in his life, he would practise until his fingers bled. 

“Has anyone told you how much of a sap you are?” You ask, but it lacks its usual teasing. 

“Yeah, but I’m your sap,” he replies, words overflowing with tenderness. 

You look at him closely. Really look at him. His loving smile falters slightly under your gaze, eyes flickering downwards to hide his expression more. 

Shifting towards him, you lay a hand across his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart quicken at your touch. “What’s wrong?”

Steve blinks, another smile forced, not quite reaching his eyes. God, why did you have to ask it like that? In a sweet tone, filled with concern. He thought he was good at lying. All those secret parties he held in his parent’s absence, brushing off their questions about various missing decorations that most likely had been broken. Nobody noticed when his heart was broken a few years back. When he could hardly drag himself to work. But somehow, you could pick him apart easily. 

“Nothing,” he lies, trying to brush you off. “Just…thinking.”

“About what?”

He sighs, his fingers tracing an aimless pattern on your shoulder as he avoids looking at you. “Just…us, I guess. Wondering if I’m actually good at this whole ‘boyfriend’ thing or if you’re just humouring me.”

The confession made him feel exposed. He regretted saying anything at all. 

You frown at his admission, “What? Why would you think that?” You can’t hide the shock from your voice. This is the same boy who kept your favourite tea stocked in his cupboard, the same boy who built your entire bookcase when you mentioned you were struggling with the instructions, the same boy who even phoned the doctor’s office for you when you were too scared to talk to the receptionist.  

He ticked every box and more, your heart broke for how he felt. 

“I don’t know…Sometimes I wonder if I’m gonna screw this up. Like, if I’m just temporary.” His eyes are still glued to his lap, unable to look away. If only he didn’t have this much baggage. 

You furrow your brows, reaching up to cup his cheek, tilting his head so he’s forced to meet your eyes. “Steve, you’re not temporary. Okay? You’re not some placeholder to me.”

He leans into your touch, his hand covering yours for a moment. But even though he smiles softly at your words, the doubt still lingers in his eyes.

“I guess we’ll see,” he murmurs, the vulnerability heavy in his voice.

You sigh, realising this is a result of something more going on, but you still give him a gentle look. You have no problem reassuring him. You could tell him one hundred times how cherished he is without complaint. As many times as it took to make the message stick. If that’s what it took, you would gladly do it. 

Steve was buzzing as soon as he got off the phone with Kieth. His presence at the video store was not required today, and he had been planning how to surprise you all morning. Acting as giddy as a high schooler. He hadn’t had the chance to see you since you last hung out at his place and he really wanted to do something sweet. Not out of the lingering insecurity he was feeling, but he wanted to see you happy. Especially when it was because of him. 

He tried to go the extra mile today, waking up early and driving to the nice florist on the other side of town, just to make sure he got the freshest flowers. A little effort from him means a big smile from you—totally worth it in his book. The bouquet was huge, it sat in your usual place, in the passenger seat. He specifically chose your favourite colour as the wrapping paper, and the bow that secured it too. Smiling to himself as he pictured your reaction. 

Climbing the steps to your little apartment, something you were so excited to finally be able to afford with your job, his heart beat with anticipation. He easily fished out the spare key you had given him, smiling as the tiny keychain dangled from it—a tiny VHS tape you had been so proud to find at the flea market, insisting on putting it on yourself because it ‘needed some flair’. It was a thoughtful gesture, it made him feel warm whenever he saw it. 

Holding his breath to not make any noise, he unlocked your door and gently pushed it open, careful not to startle you. His eyes immediately landed on the couch—and his whole world froze. 

There, sprawled out on the couch, was none other than Eddie Munson. Looking the same as he always did, completely relaxed In his worn Metalica t-shirt and scuffed trainers. 

The worst part wasn’t just him. It was you. Your head resting in his lap, and Eddie was absently playing with a strand of your hair. He glanced up at Steve’s entrance and immediately put a finger to his lips, signalling Steve to stay quiet. His blood boiled at the gesture. 

“Shh,” Eddie whispered, gesturing to you. “She’s asleep.”

He was glued to the spot. What the fuck is he doing here?

Eddie carefully lifted your head off his legs, swapping himself out for a pillow, taking extra care not to rouse you. 

“Hey, man,” he greeted casually as he stood, stretching out his arms like this wasn’t the single most infuriating sight Steve had ever seen. “We were just hanging out, watching some trash TV. She was out like a light.”

His voice was still a whisper as he explained what happened, trying to add some humour to the situation. “Probably for the best, I mean. I can watch crappy shit all day, but even this was painful to sit through. No big deal.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. Hard. His grip on the flowers tightened until he could feel a few give way under the pressure. No big deal? You’ve got to be kidding me. He felt a surge of possessiveness course through him, igniting an anger he believed was dormant. His mind began to race, everything he had been trying to ignore had bubbled straight back up to the surface like a ticking time bomb. She is that comfortable to fall asleep on him?!

Eddie, completely oblivious to Steve’s thinly veiled fury, patted him on the shoulder. “Sorry, but I gotta be heading myself. Wayne’ll be wondering where I’ve been.” He said, giving him a small smile as if this was a totally normal situation for the two of you. “Take care, man.” With that, Eddie slipped past him, closing the door silently as he exited. 

The apartment felt eerily quiet as Steve just stood there, staring at the door, trying to wrap his head around what the hell just happened. Unbelievable. He rediverted his attention back to you, still soundly asleep on the couch, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside of him. He crossed the room slowly, as if on autopilot, mind a nasty mix of anger and jealousy. You fell asleep on Eddie. Eddie, of all people. How long were you two just... sitting there like that?

He took a seat in the armchair opposite, memories of the two of you trying to squeeze onto it now bitterly replaying in his mind. The flowers were still clutched in his hand, forgotten in his flood of emotions.

He didn’t want to acknowledge what he had just walked in on. His heart beat painfully in his chest. This is how it starts, right? He thought bitterly. Starts all innocent like this. I’ve seen this before. I’ve lived this before. His mind flashed back to that goddamn Halloween party, to the nights he thought things were fine, only to realise too late that he had been left behind—again.

Steve exhaled sharply, frustration gnawing at him. It’s happening. It’s fucking happening again. He was always second best. His parents, Nancy, Dustin, you. 

He glanced down at the flowers in his hand, the stems crushed from his tense grip. They were supposed to be part of a sweet surprise, a way to make you smile, but now... now they just felt like a cruel joke. With him being the punchline. As per usual.

He set them down on the coffee table and leaned backwards, his gaze locked on your peaceful sleeping form, his mind a mess. His foot tapped impatiently against the floor. He was fuming—so mad he could barely think straight.

The room was in complete silence as you began to stir awake, reaching your arms above your head lazily. You blinked a few times as you returned to reality, the soft haze of sleep still lingering. You heard your back pop and you groaned at the sensation, falling asleep on the couch had been a terrible idea. 

You let out a brief yawn and look around for Eddie, but instead, your eyes land on your boyfriend. He sat across from you, arms crossed tensely, his expression neutral. He wasn’t smiling, which was odd for him. In fact, he looked angry. 

“When did you get here?” Your forehead crinkled in confusion, voice still raspy with sleep as you asked. “Where did Eddie go?”

Steve shifted in the chair, leaning back and spreading his legs further apart. “Eddie left a while ago,” he snapped, his tone was sharp and clipped. “I got the day off work.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” your brain still trying to piece the information together. “You should have called.”

He scoffed as he shook his head, a lock of brown hair escaping to rest against his forehead. “Yeah, well. I wasn’t aware you had other plans.”

You sat up straighter on the couch, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach. His tone—he never spoke to you like that. It sounded frustrated, irritated. Like you had done something wrong. You wracked your brain trying to think of anything that would have upset him, eventually coming up short. Eddie’s presence here didn’t even pass through your mind, there is no way Steve would be that possessive. Could he?

“Steve…what’s wrong?” You asked cautiously, concern creeping into your voice. “Why are you mad?”

His brown eyes darkened, his face twisting with an expression you had never seen before. All the insecurity he had been feeling, all the unresolved emotions, came crashing to the surface in a wave of anger. It was frightening. He was frightening you. 

“You wanna know what’s wrong?” He barked out a laugh, one that was filled with no humour. “I come over here, thinking I’m gonna surprise my girlfriend. But instead? I find her asleep on the town freak.”

Your heart sank. He spat the words out as if they tasted vile on his tongue. You never knew that he could be this vicious, the foul name that just spewed from his lips made your throat tighten. “Steve, that’s not—”

“Don’t,” he cut you off, his voice bitter as he continued. “You think I’m stupid? Like I don’t see what’s going on here? You and Eddie. He’s always around, and suddenly, you’re all buddy-buddy with him, falling asleep on his lap like it’s no big deal. I mean—Jesus, sweetheart—how dense do you think I am?”

“Steve, it wasn’t like that,” your voice broke as you struggled to speak. The nickname that had always been filled with such love was now venomous, you struggled to understand what was happening. Why he wasn’t listening? Why wasn’t he trusting you?

“We were just hanging out, watching TV—“

“Oh yeah? Just watching TV? Sure,” Steve spat, getting up to start pacing, the adrenaline coursing through his body was too much. His mind was racing, old memories resurfacing, ones that he would rather not think about only helped fuel his rage. He turned back to you, eyes wild with fury.

“Moved on pretty quick, huh?” He ran a hand over his face, voice dripping with resentment. “I mean, I gotta hand it to you, honey. But you could have tried a little harder before the secret spilt out eventually.”

Tears formed in your waterline as you tried your best not to let them fall. “How could you say that?” You took in a shaky breath. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Oh, don’t do that,” he pointed a finger at you. “Don’t act all innocent here. I’ve seen this shit before, okay? Little things that aren’t that little. Don’t play dumb, it’s embarrassing.”

“I’m not!” You protested, not caring about the tears that now flowed freely down your cheeks. “I love you, Steve. Please. Eddie is just a friend.”

He rolled his eyes, your pleading falling on deaf ears. “Yeah, ‘just a friend’,” he muttered hostilely. “Sure.”

His words cut deep, and you felt yourself crumble under the weight of them. You began to panic as you realised there was no way out of this. Not when he was so dead set on believing what he wanted. You could only stare back at him in disbelief, heart breaking at how trivial this argument is. 

“I thought you left this high school crap behind you,” you whispered, scared and unsure of how he would react. 

“Yeah, well, some things never change.” He shot back, his tongue still as fast as it had been back then. He mentioned how he was in school a few times in the past, but now you could really see it. The petty boy who would say anything in the heat of the moment. The boy who could pick the thing that would hurt the most. 

The room fell into a heavy silence, staring at one another, the distance between you growing more and more with each passing second. You could barely recognise the man standing only a few feet away. You wanted to reach out to him, plead with him to just stop. Go back to being Steve. Your Steve. 

“I can’t believe what you’re saying,” you managed to choke out, wiping at your eyes with the sleeves of your jumper. “You’re hurting me.”

Steve hesitated for a moment, a brief flash of guilt flickered across his face at the sight of your tears. His beautiful girl was torn apart by what he was insinuating. But he was too far gone. His misplaced anger was the only thing he could feel right now, pushing him further. “Yeah well, now you know how that feels.”

A sob wracked through your body, his statement feeling like a dagger to your chest. He made his way towards the door to leave, his gaze landed on the stack of VHS tapes by the TV. He knew he should walk away, but a petty bitterness surged through him. He could never resist getting one final jab in. 

“Make sure you return those by the weekend. Late fees now apply, sweetheart.” He sneered, lips turning into a snarl. 

With that, he tossed the flowers he’d brought for you onto the table, the delicate petals now scattered across it. You stared at them, your vision blurred by your tears as Steve stormed out of your apartment. He slammed the door sharply as he left, making you flinch. 

As soon as he was gone, you collapsed onto the couch, finally allowing yourself to cry uncontrollably. You didn’t understand how everything had spiralled so fast. How the man who was so sweet, so kind, had turned into this.

On the other side of the door, Steve’s heart was racing, pounding so hard he could hear it in his ears. He leaned against the wall for a moment and shut his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control as the rage he felt dissipated. 

He wouldn’t allow himself to feel guilty, not over this. He didn’t jump to conclusions, not when the signs were so clear to him. 

He stumbled down the stairs and got into his car, foot pressing down hard on the accelerator as he drove away. Each mile felt heavier than the last. He couldn’t allow himself to question what he had said, besides, it was too late to take it all back now. What he couldn’t answer was why he felt so much more empty as he pulled up to his house. Alone. 

Steve pushed open the door to Family Video, the small bell above him chiming as he trudged inside. It felt like it was mocking him, only adding to his sour mood. He was fifteen minutes late, something that never went unnoticed by Robin.

His eyes looked and felt drained, dark circles framing his eyes from his obvious lack of sleep. The night before had been hell. All he had done was toss and turn, replaying the argument with you over and over again in his head until he was sick of it. His chest ached from all the emotions that were still swirling inside of him. Anger, sadness, and a terrifying amount of regret that he wasn’t sure what to do with. 

Robin was at the counter, tapping away at the computer when she saw him walk in. Her face lit up, clearly excited to spill something. “There you are! You won’t believe what I’m about to tell you. I saw Vicky at the movies yesterday and—“

“Rob, I’m really not in the mood today.” He interrupted her, rubbing a hand over his brows. 

The girl froze, her face contorting with confusion. Usually, Steve lived for gossip like this. In fact, he almost always begged for it.

“Wait…what? You were off yesterday. Shouldn’t you be, like, all refreshed or something? What, did you party too hard without me?”

He shot her a glare, making it crystal clear that something was wrong. Of course, being ever curious, Robin was not going to let this slide. 

“Oh, no. Spill it, Harrington.” She began, leaving the computer to follow his quick steps. “You come in late, looking like shit, and now you’re all moody? Did something happen yesterday?”

Steve sighed, running a hand through his messy hair he hadn’t even bothered to brush. Not willing to humour her at all today. “Robin, please—”

“Please what? I’m not gonna stop asking. C’mon, let it out. I’m all ears. I’ll even sit down for this one.” She says dramatically as she hops up onto the counter, crossing her legs, glancing at him expectantly as if she had all the time in the world. 

Steve groaned loudly. “Fine, fine. You want to know what happened?” He said, exasperated.  “I walked in yesterday, excited to surprise my girl, and guess what I saw? Eddie. Like, she had her head in his lap and everything. They were all over each other. It was disgusting.”

Robin scrunched her eyebrows as she processed his words. “Eddie? The Eddie Munson?” She squinted, looking even more confused. “Are we talking about the same Eddie here? The one who’s completely obsessed with Chrissy Cunningham? I mean, he’s had it bad for her for years. That Eddie?”

“What? Chrissy?” Steve frowned, pausing as her words sank in. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Robin tilted her head at him like he was an idiot. Which she would say was most of the time. “Uh, yeah? He’s been pining after her for, like, ever. He never had the guts to ask her out. Everyone knows that.”

She carried on talking as if this was common knowledge, which maybe it was. The knowledge was just not that common to Steve, apparently. “So Eddie’s into your girl now? Are you sure about that?”

He felt his stomach drop, trying to ignore the rising panic in his chest. “I mean… yeah. Pretty sure? He was, like, touching her and they were—“ He stopped halfway through his sentence, doubt now taking over. 

Was that really all he saw? Surely not. He couldn’t have gotten so mad about just that, there had to be more. Only, nothing really came to mind. 

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Touching her, huh? And that exactly happened? No skipping details.”

Steve scratched the back of his head as he tried to recall the events from the evening prior, his anxiety continued to grow as he spoke. “I saw him drop her off at my place the other day. She got out of his van, and they looked all… close. Then, when I went to her apartment earlier, I walk in, and there she is, asleep across his lap.”

Robin took a second to process what he was saying, speaking slowly as she tried to wrap her head around the situation. “So… you’re mad because she fell asleep with him on the couch? While watching TV? That’s what you’re telling me?”

Steve’s breath hitched in his throat, immediately getting defensive, trying to prove that he wasn’t just overreacting. “Well, yeah, but it’s the way she was with him. It was just too… cosy.”

She could not believe what she was hearing as she stared at the boy blankly. “Dude, we do that stuff all the time. Like, every movie night.”

Steve's stomach twisted. He felt sick. “Yeah, but…that’s different. This is—” He couldn’t continue. There was no solid ground for him to stand on. The knowledge of that was overwhelming. Fuck. 

Robin narrowed her eyes, still determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on. “Okay, I still don’t get it. What did you do?”

He shifted uncomfortably at her questions, his guilt was building inside of him as the true terror set in. “I, uh… I may have been a complete asshole.”

Her eyes widened at the admission. “Define ‘complete asshole.’”

Steve’s hands shook as he brought them up to his forehead, slightly damp from his growing fear. “I called Eddie the ‘town freak’—fuck—and I—“ He paused and took a breath in, the consequences of his insecurities now coming into the light. “I told her we were over basically…she asked me to stop hurting her.”

Robin’s jaw dropped, feeling outraged at the way her best friend had acted. That was not something she could ever stand beside, no matter how close they were. “You what? Steve, that's fucking insane! I can’t believe you drove her to the point of even having to say that!”

The world seemed distorted as Steve became short of breath, he had to rest a hand on the counter to keep himself steady, the tight grip becoming painful. “I don’t know! I just—it all came out. I couldn’t stop myself—shit. What—what do I do?”

Robin started at him, completely stunned and equally irked. “Steve,” she said, the stern tone felt foreign on her tongue. “This is not just ‘I messed up a little’—you blew it, dude.”

He was breathing faster now, mouth barren, limbs turning slightly numb. The panic had now set in fully. “No, no, no. Don’t say that. I can fix it, right? I always fix it. I have to fix it, Robin. Please, help me fix it!” His voice increased as he got the words out, hands trembling in front of him. 

She looked at him, she was no less annoyed, but she couldn’t help but pity her friend. Especially when he looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown like this. He was a wreck right now and needed someone. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll help you,” Steve sighed in relief, however, she wasn’t finished. “But I’m seriously not happy about any of this. If she doesn’t take you back, you have to deal with it, Steve. This is on you.”

Steve nodded frantically, hair flying everywhere as he clung to the small sliver of hope. “Anything. I’ll do anything. I can’t lose her, Robin. I just… I can’t”

She folded her arms, her face remaining stoic to show her displeasure with him. “Alright. We will think of something, and you better pray to God she hears you out. You have got a lot of sucking up to do Harrington.”

He muttered quiet a thank you, his heart not slowing down. He couldn’t afford to lose you, not over this, not because of his own self-doubt. Please, he thought to himself. Please for the love of God don’t let her leave me.

For ten long minutes, Steve had been standing outside your apartment, heart hammering in his chest as he stared at the shut door. Ten agonising minutes of him just waiting, stalling, trying to muster up the courage to raise his hand and just knock. He could have used the spare key that was burning a hole in his back pocket, but that wouldn’t be right. Not after what he did. He had to do this the right way if he had any chance of forgiveness. This wasn’t a situation that could be fixed with flowers or chocolates. He had spoken to Robin for the whole of yesterday, and they both agreed—he needed to own up to everything that transpired, to apologise, even if it was hard. Even if it was terrifying. 

Because losing you? That wasn’t an option. 

With a deep breath, he rapped his knuckles against the solid wood. The second he made contact with the door, his stomach flipped. He wanted to run. To turn around and bolt. But he couldn’t. Not this time. He had too much to lose—you. The sweet, kind girl who had always made him feel seen, made him feel held. How could he walk away from that without trying? 

It wasn’t long before the door creaked open, the sight of you nearly knocked all the air out of his lungs. You’d been crying, that much was obvious. Your eyes were red, puffy, and filled with the hurt that he had caused. If that wasn’t enough to crush him, you were clad in one of his old hoodies—one he’d left at your place months ago. Seeing you wrapped up in something of his twisted the knife so deep that he nearly staggered back before he caught himself. 

You immediately moved to shut the door, not willing to let him hurt you more, but Steve panicked. “Please, please, angel don’t,” his voice cracked as he begged to be let in, his hand pushing lightly against the door, so desperate to keep it open. Desperate to not be shut out before he could even try to say sorry. “I need to talk to you. Please.”

You paused, removing your hand and gently taking a step away from the entrance. You crossed your arms as you looked at him, still visibly upset, your voice sharp but exhausted. The tone pulled at his chest. “You’ve got five minutes Steve. Then I want you out of here.”

He nodded eagerly, grateful for a chance, no matter how slim. “Of course, anything…I’ll take anything. Just…please.”

You let him in, both stepping further into the flat, his eyes immediately locked onto the sight of the coffee table. The flowers he picked up yesterday were still sitting there—petals scattered everywhere, beginning to dry up and wilt. 

You couldn’t bear to touch them after he tossed them there the day before, you had hardly left your bedroom due to their presence. A brutal reminder of what happened. He felt sick to his stomach with the knowledge of how badly he hurt you. How you couldn’t even deal with the ruined gift because they were tied to him. To the things he said. 

You fiddled with the sleeve of his hoodie, now feeling embarrassed while wearing it, nervous as to what he could possibly say to make this right. If he even wanted to make it right. You honestly didn’t know. 

He turned to you, words catching in his throat as he tried to figure out where to even start with this. He had gone over this with Robin multiple times yesterday, but the sight of you completely threw him. 

“I—I’m sorry, angel,” he stammered, that was a good place to start, his voice as rough as he continued. “I’m so, so sorry. For everything. For not thinking. For not believing you. For… for making you cry. I didn’t mean to—I swear, I didn’t.”

You stood firm, arms not moving from their crossed position. You weren’t giving in easily, not this time. You had every single right to be upset. Steve has frightened you. He was mean and spiteful, lashing out at you instead of listening. His jealousy was ugly. 

He fumbled for more words, his hands beginning to shake. “I…I was an asshole, I hate that I hurt you. I just…I freaked out, okay? I thought—“ He stopped, swallowing thickly as his emotions threatened to choke him fully. “I thought I was going to lose you. Like…like I lost Nancy.”

Your expression shifted slightly, but you remained silent, allowing him to continue. 

His voice grew quieter, more pained. “Halloween, a few years back, Nancy told me I was just…bullshit. Jonathan swept in after that. And when I saw you with Eddie—fuck—I just—” He ran a hand through his brown hair, pulling harder at the ends as his frustration grew. “Eddie’s already got Dustin. He’s…he’s got everything. And I thought he’d take you too. And I just…I panicked. I know it’s stupid, okay? I was just—“

He was rambling now and he knew it, the words were tumbling out faster than he could stop them. He only had five minutes, he needed you to understand. To please understand him. 

“I was so fucking scared, honey. I’m scared you’ll wake up one day and realise that I’m bullshit. That you’ll find someone better. Someone who isn’t…who isn’t me.” His voice cracked again at his attempt to hold back the tears that clouded his vision. 

You let out a small sigh, your expression wary. You couldn’t let your guard down, not yet at least. 

“Steve…what happened yesterday was not okay. You hurt me. A lot.”

“I know,” he said in a hushed tone, his voice barely louder than a breath. “I know I did, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. I swear, I’ll be better. I’ll be so much better—if you’ll let me. You deserve everything, sweetheart. A-and I’ll give it to you, I promise. Just…please. Please let me prove that.”

Steve’s voice broke as the overwhelming dread overflowed, what had once been a gentle simmering below the surface now coursed through his entire body. No, he thought, It’s not working. It’s not fucking working.

His hands were quivering uncontrollably, his vision blurred as his thoughts spiralled. Everything was crashing down around him—the fear, the memories, the guilt. 

He couldn’t stop it. He couldn’t lose you. Not you. 

“I—I can’t,” Steve stammered, his words short as they came out in small gasps. He backed up slightly, he didn’t know if he was scared of your presence or himself at this point. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this. I’m so—so fucking scared, I—“ 

His hands flew to his face in a weak attempt to hold himself together, his breath coming out in frantic bursts. His whole body shook involuntarily. Nancy, his parents, the same gut-wrenching feeling of being told he wasn’t enough. Wasn’t loved. That he was unimportant. Just temporary. 

You were stuck, rooted to where you stood, watching him unravel. And in that moment, you didn’t know what to do. The Steve you knew so well—the confident, charming, self-assured Steve—was crumbling before your eyes, his fear felt so raw, so overwhelming that it broke your heart to witness it. 

“Steve,” you say softly, moving towards him, but he couldn’t hear you. Not over his own mind. He was too far gone. 

“I can’t—fuck, I—“ His broad chest heaved as he tried to suck in air, but it seemed to do little to help. His hands shook violently, gripping at his tousled hair as he slid down to the floor, his back against the wall. “I’m gonna lose you, angel. I know it, and I can’t—I can’t do that again.”

“Steve,” you repeat, voice more forceful this time as you drop to your knees beside him. You reached out to him slowly, so as to not startle him, taking his unsteady hands in your own. “Breathe. Just…breathe with me, okay?”

He was trembling so much that it scared you, even more than he had yesterday. His breaths were coming out shallow and erratic, your heart ached to see him like this—so broken, so scared. 

“It’s okay. I’m here.” You kept your voice soft, soothing as you held onto him, your thumbs tracing small circles on his skin. You began to understand. “You’re okay. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

The skin around his eyes was pulled taught as he squeezed them shut, he tried to follow your lead, match your breathing with his own, using it as a guide. “Just breathe, okay?” You repeated, you held your voice steady until his ragged breaths began to slow, becoming deeper and more even. 

It took a few minutes to get his trembling to ease, fingers still tracing gentle patterns, reminding him of your presence. His grip eventually loosened, but never wavered, he clung onto you like a lifeline. His head hung low as he tried to pull himself back together. 

You watched his chest as you knelt beside him, it rose and fell more calmly compared to a few moments ago. His large brown eyes flickered open as they focused on you. Red and glassy, filled with fear as he looked at you. Really looked at you. 

“I’m so so sorry,” he spoke in a muted tone, barely audible as he turned his attention to your intertwined hands. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I just… I didn’t know what to do. I—I needed to hurt you before you hurt me.”

Your stomach was in knots at the sight of him so vulnerable. Posture hunched over as if he wanted to disappear into himself. It broke your heart to witness. You squeezed his hands gently as you leaned closer to him. 

“Steve, listen to me,” you tell him. His eyes lifted to meet yours, amber and swirling with uncertainty. “I’m not going anywhere. But you have to talk to me, okay? If something is bothering you. If you’re feeling scared, you have to tell me. You can’t just take it out on me. It’s not fair.”

He shook his head and sniffed, rubbing his hand roughly against his eyes, trying to brush away the tears. “I don’t want to push you away,” he muttered, voice no longer as shakey. He felt his mind settle as the words flowed out of his mouth more comfortably. 

“I just… I don’t know how to do this,” he gestured between the two of you. “I’ve never been good at… at the talking stuff.”

For the first time today, you allowed a smile to play on your lips as you brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. “I kinda got that,” you tell him. “You don’t have to be perfect. I just need you to be able to come to me, talk to me. Get out of your head. I’m always here.”

You tapped his forehead twice for emphasis as he exhaled slowly. The tension in his body had finally been released as he slumped against the wall. He brought both of your hands up to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, swallowing hard as he returned them to his lap. “Don’t deserve you, angel.”

Leaning forward and pressing your forehead against his own, closing your eyes as you speak. “You deserve someone who cares,” you tell him as you pull back, eyes shining with pure honesty which soothes his shot nerves. “And I do. So, just…trust me. Even if it's hard sometimes.”

“I do,” he said quickly. “I do. I’m sorry I didn’t, sweetheart. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I know,” you say, rubbing your thumb across his cheek, looking at him with the tenderness he never thought he would see again. “You don’t have to apologise anymore.”

He nodded once more, your forgiveness was finally sinking into him, pushing the last bit of panic out of his system. He opened his arms, asking you silently if it was alright to hold you once more. 

You shifted yourself between his legs, allowing his arms to pull you into a tight embrace, bringing you close as if you might disappear again. Slip through his fingers if he let you go. 

You rested your head against his chest, tucked up tightly as his chin rested on your hair. You could feel his heart beat at a more steady pace. You placed your palm over it. It belonged to you after all. 

“I love you, you know that?” He asked as he held you against him, anchoring himself to you. 

“I know,” you respond, words slightly muffled by his jumper. “I love you too.”

You pull away slightly, meeting his eyes once more. The heaviness from the previous conversation had lifted, feeling relief flow through you as the warmth returned to Steve’s face. He wasn’t completely at ease, still very much shaken, but he could see a light at the end of the tunnel. The worst was behind him. And he promised it would only be up from here. 

“So tell me,” you began. You knew you needed to steer the conversation in a more light-hearted direction, not just for yourself, but for the boy whose lap you were in. “Was Robin mad?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Steve groaned as his head hit the wall behind him. At least he could walk into work with a smile on his face tomorrow. Tell her that he made it right…but maybe leave out the whole hysterical crying part. “She was ready to rip my head off after I told her what happened.”

“Oh, really?” You raised an eyebrow and giggled. “Good to know she has my back.”

“Guess I’m outnumbered,” Steve allowed himself to laugh, and God did it feel good to do it with you.

“Well, that’s what happens when you don’t listen.”

“Okay, okay. Fair enough,” he winced, but managed to maintain a grin. “I think I’ll survive her wrath…maybe.”

“Maybe,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Gonna have to put in some work there then.”

“I am prepared to do whatever it takes,” he tells you with mock seriousness. “Even offer to be her wingman with Vickie.”

“Wow, generous,” you snorted. It would probably benefit him more, if you were being honest. He had been nagging her to make a move for months, her constant pining and inaction was starting to get to him. He had been giving her the same advice over and over. It was getting ridiculous. His words, not yours. 

“And, hey, maybe I’ll give Munson a chance too,” he tells you, glancing down with a playful expression. “Join Hellfire, see what all the fuss is about.”

The laugh that escaped you was loud, you shook your head at him. “Steve, you would be terrible and D&D.”

“Hey, I’m good at strategy!” He protested, not allowing himself to be insulted in this manner. “I’d make a great…uh, whatever they call the fighter guy.”

“You mean a barbarian?” You say teasingly. “I could see you as more of a chotic bard. Always trying to talk yourself out of trouble.”

“Yeah? You never know, I could surprise you,” he says, leaning down to press his lips against your hairline. “For now though, I think I’ll focus on not screwing things up again.”

Your heart fluttered as you melted into him, securing your arms around his wide shoulders. “You’re on the right track, Harrington”

“Good,” he smiled at the nickname, placing his hand on your arm, the other on your back. “I don’t plan on going anywhere. And neither are you if I can help it.”

“Deal,” you say with a firm nod of your head. “No more freakouts, okay?”

He looked over your face once more, relieved that there were no more visible traces of the pain he had caused. Just his sweet girl smiling at him. Just the way he liked it. 

"I'll try my best," Steve whispered, holding you close. "I promise."

[taintedcigs]

can’t stop thinking about firefighter steve x chief’s daughter and it’s your fault </3333

— switched

firefighter!steve harrington x reader.

CAN'T STOP WON'T STOP... I AM SORRY!!!... also ignore my lazy caption i cant find anything better woops... warnings: MINORS DNI!!! just filthy piv smut, maybe a bit of mean!steve, some dirty talk and DUH switch!steve and switch!reader bc i can't help myself. </3 wc: 1.1k+

But seriously imagine Steve with Captain's daughter... you meet him when your dad takes you down to the station, and of course, Steve charming Harrington lays (or at least tries to) the moves on you the SECOND he meets you, and sure enough, captain WARNS him to stay away from you.

Not realizing forbidden fruit is much more juicy when it's prohibited. and it quickly turns into a dirty little secret.

So casual and fun, the sneaking around, the hidden dates, having sex wherever and whenever you can, and of course, having sex while the others are busy and he's not, and now you convince him to have sex in one of the trucks.

Lodged in one of the backseats, you're on top of him, his uniform folded to his ankles, he looks good with it, but much better out of it.

With slow movements, you tease him, milking him for his worth, hips rolling so skillfully that all he can do is mutter out a few "F-fuck!"'s and a whole lot of "S-shit.... mhmm... jus' like that, honey."

You're perfect, but your teasing is straight-up torturous. "Baby," he whispers, lips grazing over your ear, pathetically and heaving, just needing more of you, even though you're sure he can't go in any deeper.

"We have to be quick." It's almost like a warning, he doesn't want to get caught, and neither do you, but it's so much fun with the risks, with the what-ifs, with the sneaking around and the secrets.

You pull back from his neck with a hearty giggle, the smile adorning your face is sweet and deadly, picking up your pace just slightly, bouncing up and down his veiny cock, feeling him stretch you open, nice and wide.

And as much as you want to pretend that it doesn't have any effect on you, it does. He's big, so big that you can almost feel him splitting you open, feeling him throbbing, can imagine his pink tip going red, tired of all the teasing, but you're nowhere near done. "Oh, do we?"

You throw him another sultry look and at this point, you can barely see his pupils, gaze overblown by desire, the tight hold he has on your hips is almost bruising, marking you, heavy breathing all over your already marked up neck. you know he's going to explode soon. "I don't think you get to decide that, Steve."

Another smirk thrown his way, "What happened, Stevie? gonna cum?" you ask, voice filled with desire, hips grinding against his thighs, every movement is met with his loud moans.

Not even bothering to stifle it.

It's like he wants everyone to know that you're his.

"You're evil," he groans, it's much less pathetic, almost sinful coming out from his salmon-pink lips, the tip of his cock hitting spots inside of you that you didn't know existed.

And you try, so hard, to play it cool, like grinding down on his huge cock is not making you want to scream out.

Like his thick thighs that you are sitting on and heavy balls that are slapping against your sweetest spots aren't making you squirm, like you're not about to whine and beg for him to make you cum.

And, shit, you know he can tell, by the way his big hands grab your hips, guiding you roughly, a bruising hold that makes you let out a mewl, yet, you still hope he doesn't notice.

But he does.

"You love it, don't you? Love me having all the control and being all mean to you?" Your last attempt to have all the control and you fail.

Because his padded thumb rubs circles against your clit, and your voice cracks, turning you into a mewling mess.

He can feel you slipping over the control, it's all so quick, one more move from him and he knows you'll be putty in his hands, begging to have his cock stuffed inside you forever.

Just the thought of that makes him want to spend his load inside of you, a half-smirk is quick to form its place on his freckled cheeks. "That's funny," he grunts, realizing that your movements are slowing down, allowing him to finally drive his cock into you slowly, regaining some sort of control, intently watching the way your eyes roll all the way to the back of your head.

"W-what is?" You try to hum confidently, attempting to mask your submissiveness, but it's too fucking late, and that infamous smirk grows on his cheeks, spreading all over.

He chuckles, the sound bellowing from his stomach, it's downright pornographic, making your pussy flutter in more ways than one.

His movements pick up, fucking into you with short but rough thrusts, filling you all the way in.

"That you think you even have an ounce of control, sweetheart," he growls into your ear, making you moan with need, the room filled with slapping noises, heavy balls hitting against your clit.

All so stimulating.

"I let you have it, and I can take it away just as quick, hmm?" He barely gives you any time to adjust to his words, abusing his cock inside of your soppy pussy, making you gasp as your gaze glistens with tears.

He's just so fucking good.

And you're perfect like this.

"S-steve!" You yelp, driving him more and more to the brink of insanity, hands grabbing any globe of skin he can find, teeth sinking into it, while his cock hits inside of that sweet spongey spot that makes you sing.

You have that fucked out look on your face, plushy lips slightly apart, hair disheveled and brows knitted, Steve wants nothing more than to fuck your drooly lips next, and fill each of your filthy holes with his cum.

"God, I love it much more when you go all cock drunk on me like this.... Can't even form a coherent thought when I'm poundin' into you, can you, honey?" The name sounds sickly sweet rolling off his lips, but in the dirtiest way, and all you can do is nod meekly, grabbing onto his shoulders for some sort of support.

He hums contently, watching the way his cock disappears in and out of you, covered in your juices, perfect fucking sight.

"Singing like an angel the second i have you bouncin' on my cock, that's right, sweetheart, love it so much more when all that's coming out of those pretty little lips are those whines," he whispers in the shell of your ear, mouth running more and more the closer he gets, and his gaze darkens.

"Now be a good girl and take my cock, yea?"

[luveline]

hi jade!! could we get some kbd!steve where r has had a long week at work or something like that and steve makes her favorite for dinner and she just gets all clingy and a little teary and all that mushy ushy stuff

KBD —mom!reader, 2k

The drive home feels longer, roads you’ve taken each week day for years metamorphosed into winding lanes and long stretches of tarmac. You stop at the small store just outside of your neighbourhood and attempt to pick out a treat for each girl and your sweet husband. 

It costs more than the tags say it will. Your bag breaks on the way to the car. You have to go back into the store to buy Steve another glass coke, but he deserves it. If you think about crying on the street that leads into yours, it’s your secret. 

The door opens before you’ve parked the car. Avery waits on the stoop, shifting from foot to foot in excitement. The second the car is off, she’s barrelling down the step of the house without shoes. 

“Ave! Babe!” you say, laughing as she pins you in place. “No, go back inside! It’s so cold out here!” 

“I couldn’t wait to see you!” she whines. 

Steve is there and down the steps immediately. He grabs her up and tosses her over his shoulder, laughing but clearly disapproving, “I didn’t even hear the door, just you yelling,” he says. “Shit, come on, come inside, it’s freezing!”

“Steve, you’re not wearing socks either.” 

“I had to save my girl. Where’d she go, did you see?” 

Avery giggles roaringly against his back. “Dad, put me down!” 

Steve gets Avery unharmed back inside of the house. He lets you pass and locks the front door, it’s creaking, stuck handle slammed up and key turned. He puts the chain on, like you’re being followed, checking the peephole before turning to you with this look, arms out and hands up, a sign of relief coursing through him. “My girl,” he says, cupping your face in both hands. 

You give a surprised smile. 

“I thought I was your girl!” Avery says.

“You are my girl,” Steve says, tipping your head to one side. He’s smiling like it’s his birthday, or like you just told him you found a hundred dollars in one of your pockets. “But mom’s my girl, I have a couple, you know?” He talks to Avery, stares at you. “I’m glad you’re home. I have a surprise for you and I hate waiting.”

“You do?” 

He squeezes your cheek and parts from you. “Ave, go get some socks. I’m gonna turn the heating up. Wait, let me feel those feet before you go.” 

“You are not touching my feet, you tickle.” 

“Then go get some socks on them! Gosh, you’d think I just left the front door unlocked or something, the way she ran out.” 

He shares a big smile. 

In the kitchen, the shutters are open. The lingering piles of yet to melt snow in the back yard make the whole room white, illuminating the family table, the fridge covered in magnet-pinned drawings and appointment cards, the sink and all the drying dishes. Poor Steve, he must do the dishes three times a day before you get home. 

There are things covered on the stove waiting to be reheated, and in the oven, you can see a large ceramic baking tray. 

“What are you making?” you ask. 

“That’s your surprise, honey. That and one more thing.” 

You shake your head, nonplussed. “What?” 

Steve opens the cabinet under the sink to unveil a bouquet of flowers. Which means he must’ve gotten four girls dressed to take to the store on a day where he hadn’t needed to. He must love you a whole lot to bother.

“What’s in the oven?” you ask. 

Steve puts the bouquet in its vase on the table for you to inspect. “Your favourite, duh. All the trimmings. Enough for you to have three helpings, if you want.” 

“What’s the occasion?”

“Since when do we need an occasion?” he asks, taking your wrist across the table. 

You give the flowers a good long analysis. Your favourite flowers too, with baby’s breath, carnations and peonies to bulk it out, all light pinks or whites, the odd light blue one tucked throughout. 

“I think I was having a bad day,” you say. 

“What?” he asks worriedly. “What’s wrong?” 

He should know not to ask you like that when you’re upset to begin with. He’s lucky you don’t burst into breathless sobs there and then, but your eyes go hot, your waterline fills, and he’s all to easy to collapse against for a hug. The bag at your elbow clinks against him. 

“Thank you,” you say. 

“Sure, honey, but what happened?” 

You sound squeezes as an orange for juice as you explain it, wobbly in his arms, “It’s just been such a long week, m’sorry, and I had a bad day, and I got you a glass coke from Ernie’s but the bag broke, so I had to go back in and tell them I smashed glass out there–”

“Maybe Ernie should get better bags,” he says. 

“Sorry. I shouldn’t cry over coke.” 

“No, you should never cry.” He encourages you back to kiss your nose, still smiling as he says, “Ever. They should make crying illegal, I don’t wanna see you doing it ever.” He taps you under the chin. “You’re home, cool? Nobody can bother you for the next two days, it’s just me, and your daughter, and your other daughter, and your other,” —he starts laughing as you do, infected— “daughter, and that baby. Also a daughter.” 

“Oh, yes. Who can forget my troop of girls,” you say, sniffling as he swipes under your eye with his thumb. 

“Okay?” he asks. 

You could tell him everything now, or you can save it up for tonight, tell his shoulder after dinner and a shower and a few hours of TV and chips. It’ll all feel less shitty then. And he’s drawn your attention where it should’ve been —where are your girls? 

“I’m okay. Thank you, handsome.” 

“Handsome.” He feels down your arm, pretty and warm among a cool-white kitchen. “Flirt. How about you go give your kisses and I’ll set the table?” 

“You sure?” 

He’s all smiles, it’s crazy. “The quicker I feed you the better, I’d wager. Kiss for luck?”

What luck? you think, but pout softly for a kiss that rocks your world regardless 

I’m a princess, you think, pushing the door that leads to the living room. Inside, Beth, the second eldest, is sitting with Wren, the baby. Wren is sitting on a playmat in a duckie covered onesie, smiling and giggling as Beth puts on a show. Beth’s holding an octopus toy and a Barbie, making them talk to one another in different voices. 

You don’t want to interrupt them, but Wren sees you over Beth’s head and starts doing the wiggly, nearly frantic things babies do when they’ve missed you. If you don’t grab her quickly she’ll burst into tears. 

“Beth!” you say, kneeling down beside her as you grab her sister. “Hi, bubby. What are you playing?” 

Beth reminds you that you’re beautiful, your smile on her lips as she says, “Mom! When did you come home?” 

“Just a few seconds ago.” You situate Wren on your chest for kissing, popping a few spares on Beth’s temple. “Okay? Good day?” 

“Great day!” 

“Good, I’m so glad.” 

Beth crawls to you to give you a hug from the side. Somewhere in the background, Avery calls, “Daddy! Dove is making a mess in my room AGAIN!” and Steve’s calling back, “Okay! I’ll be right there, Avery! Just gimme a minute!”

“DAD!” 

Wren gurgles at you. “Da?” she says. 

“Heard that, did you?” you ask her. 

Steve takes the long way, pushing into the living room and throwing a grin at the three of you on the floor. “Honey, I’ll be right back. The table’s set, okay? You can go sit down and I’ll start plating up.” He doubles back before he can leave, again staring at you with a smile. “Jesus, you’re perfect. I could just look at you forever.”

“Isn’t he charming?” you ask Beth. 

She gives an agreeable nod.  

The moment he’s gone you realise you actually don’t want him far away from you. It’s a strong feeling to understand it while bathed in love from two beautiful kids who missed you. Wren tries to kiss you, surely wanting one of her own, while Beth gets up and tries to persuade you too. 

“Come on, mommy. We can sit at the table.” 

So you go, mostly because she sounds adorable. You carry Wren to the table and find Steve’s already made her her soft food. You try to make baby food a few days worth at a time, but it’s nice to let her have little tastes of the same meal as everyone else. He’s blended some of the veggies into a bowl, sat cooled and waiting for her with a bib on the high chair. 

“Your daddy’s in great form today,” you mumble into her hair, sitting her down, and attempting to get the bib on her before she can grab her spoon. She’s enthusiastic, but not actually coordinated enough to use one yet. You sit down by the high chair to feed her. 

“Is it okay if I sit here?” Beth asks, taking your usual seat. 

“Yeah, of course. Want me to serve you now, or could you wait, bubby? Just until dad comes down.” 

Beth shakes her head. You forget sometimes that she’s not a baby, not a toddler, but a child big enough to grab her own knife and fork. “I’ll wait, just have some bread.” 

“Okay, bubby. Thank you. You gonna butter it yourself?” 

“Yeess,” she drags out. 

Steve brings Avery back, along with your last, grumpiest daughter, Dove. She isn’t necessarily miserable, just contrary. When she was Wren’s age she’d already mastered the word no, when she sees you, she glares at you, crying out in disbelief, “You’re in my seat!” 

“Come and sit on my lap, big girl, I gotta feed your sister.” 

“I don’t want to sit on your lap.” 

“That’s hurtful.” You pout at her with loving eyes. “Dove, didn’t you miss mommy? I missed you soooooo much.” 

Success. She climbs into your lap and lets you rub her arm while you can. Steve takes the seat on Beth’s other side, further away then you would’ve liked. He serves everybody their dinner, does it all beaming and fawning over his dinner guests. 

Your bad week fades away. By the time Steve’s stolen Wren-duty and you’ve finished your dinner, you’re feeling delightfully full and doubly loved. Like they know you need it, each of your daughters capable of doing so gives you a hug (or in Dove’s case, a kiss on the arm). 

Leaving you, and Steve, and baby Wren. 

“What do you think, milk?” he asks her. 

She seems to think it over. “Ba?” she asks. 

“Buppy? You want your buppy?” 

He pulls her out of her high chair, makes her a bottle of milk with her held to his chest, and then sits down in the chair next to you to cradle her and feed her a few ounces. 

“So,” he says, as though he isn’t exhibiting frankly audacious levels of dad-stamina and esteem, “about that long week, are you feeling okay?” 

You hold his wrist where he holds the baby. Wren’s getting so big, she takes up the length of his arm, a healthy chub around her neck and on her tummy. 

“Y/N?”

“I’m okay, yeah.” 

“Just got on top of you?” 

“Yeah, I guess so. Shit, I didn’t get you your coke or anything for dinner. I got the girls chips.” 

“It’s okay, we have time to spoil them. They ate tons.” 

“What was breakfast like after I left?” 

“Avery was so happy she didn’t have school I don’t think she noticed there were no fruit slices.” 

You fall into conversation. He leans against your shoulder as you rub the length of his arm, encouraging your clinging to the fullest extent. 

[whosscruffylooking]

steve harrington x fem! reader Open Arms Masterlist word count: 6.3k ~1984~

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

Later that evening, Steve finds himself pacing the length of his living room, running a hand through his hair for what feels like the hundredth time. The silence of the house is unbearable, filled with his swirling thoughts and unanswered questions. He doesn’t know what to do, and the frustration of it all is starting to feel like too much.

Finally, he grabs his keys and heads out the door. He doesn’t have a plan, but somehow, his feet lead him to Dustin’s house. If there’s anyone who might have an answer—or at least say something that could make sense of this mess—it’s the kid who seems to know way too much about life for his age.

When Dustin opens the door, he’s holding a partially dismantled walkie-talkie and wearing a look of mild confusion. “Steve? What are you doing here? And…why didn’t you drive your car?”

“I need to talk to you,” Steve blurts out, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. He sinks into the nearest chair, his head dropping into his hands. “It’s about Y/N.”

Dustin’s eyes widen, and he immediately shuts the door, tossing the walkie onto a nearby table. “Oh man, this is gonna be good. Spill.”

Steve hesitates, unsure how to even start. “I don’t know what to do. Last night, things… things got intense, and I thought we had this moment, you know? Like, we finally said what we’ve been too scared to say for years. But now she’s pulling back, and I don’t know if I should—” He stops, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know if I should keep pushing or just… leave it alone.”

Dustin crosses his arms, tilting his head as he considers Steve’s words. “Okay, first of all, what exactly did you say? Because if you half-assed it, that’s on you.”

Steve groans, leaning back against the chair. “I didn’t half-ass it. I told her she’s my whole world. That I couldn’t survive if something happened to her. I meant every word.”

“Okay, cool. So you laid it all out there,” Dustin says, nodding approvingly. “And now she’s avoiding you?”

“Pretty much.”

Dustin shrugs. “She’s probably just freaking out. I mean, think about it, Steve. Last night was crazy. People don’t just process stuff like that overnight. Plus, she’s probably wondering if you meant it or if it was, like, adrenaline talking.”

“I did mean it,” Steve says quickly, his voice firm.

“I know that, and you know that, but does she?” Dustin points out, raising an eyebrow. “You’re gonna have to prove it.”

“How?”

Dustin smirks. “By being the guy she already knows you are. You’ve been in love with her for years, right? So don’t stop now. Show her you meant what you said. Don’t let her run away just because she’s scared.”

Steve leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he takes in Dustin’s words. “And what if I push too hard and just end up making it worse?”

“Steve,” Dustin says, his tone surprisingly serious. “The only way you’re gonna make it worse is if you give up. She’s worth it, right?”

Steve doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah. She’s worth it.”

“Then stop overthinking it and just… be there for her. Give her time, but don’t let her forget you meant every word.”

Steve nods slowly, Dustin’s advice sinking in. Maybe the kid’s right. Maybe it’s not about pushing or pulling back—it’s about being steady, being there, and letting her see that his feelings aren’t going anywhere.

“Don’t let her forget I meant every word,” Steve takes a mental note. “Thanks kid.”

“Anytime, big guy,” Dustin replies, grinning. “But, uh, maybe next time, bring snacks. We’ve got brainstorming to do and we’re doing it on an empty stomach.”

The kid pulls out a notebook and begins scribbling ideas into it. 

Steve leans back in Dustin’s chair, arms crossed as his mind drifts, until he blurts out, “I wrote her a note once.”

Dustin freezes mid-sentence. “A note?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Back in ninth grade. It was, like, this stupid thing where I wrote down all the stuff I… liked about her.”

Dustin’s pen drops onto the desk, and he swivels around in his chair to face Steve, his expression somewhere between shock and delight. “Hold up. You wrote an actual love note, and you’ve just been sitting on this information? What did it say?”

“I don’t remember,” Steve lies, avoiding Dustin’s eyes.

“Bull,” Dustin says, narrowing his gaze. “You remember every word, don’t you?”

Steve sighs, defeated. “Okay, fine. I remember some of it. But it doesn’t matter because I never gave it to her.”

“You still have it?” Dustin asks, leaning forward like he’s about to discover buried treasure.

“I think so,” Steve mutters. “It’s probably in some box in my closet or something.”

Dustin practically leaps out of his chair. “We’re going to your house. Right now.”

“No way,” Steve says, shaking his head.

“Steve,” Dustin says, crossing his arms and giving him a look that’s far too confident for a 13-year-old. “This note could be the key to unlocking her heart. You’re always telling me to take risks and go after what I want, so why don’t you take your own advice for once?”

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine, but only if you agree to stop badgering me about it.”

Dustin smirks. “And?”

“And,” Steve adds, “I’ll help you prepare for the winter formal.”

“Sold!” Dustin says, already grabbing his coat.

They rummage through Steve’s closet for nearly half an hour, tossing aside old yearbooks, basketball trophies, and forgotten sneakers, until Dustin shouts, “Found it!”

He holds up a folded piece of paper, yellowed slightly with age, and waves it triumphantly.

Steve snatches it from him, his face already burning. “Give me that.”

“Absolutely not,” Dustin says, dodging out of reach. “This is a historical document. It belongs in a museum!”

“Dustin, I swear—”

“Relax,” Dustin says, finally unfolding the note. He scans the page, his smirk slowly fading as he reads. “Dude,” he says quietly, glancing up at Steve. “This is… actually kind of sweet. ‘The way you always sticks up for people, even when you’re intimidated.’”

Steve shrugs, avoiding Dustin’s gaze. “Yeah, well…”

“‘Or how you always get mad when I cheat at Monopoly,’” Dustin’s voice softens. “That’s… wow, man.”

Steve shifts uncomfortably. “Can we not make a big deal out of this?”

Dustin keeps reading. “‘The way you bite your lip when you’re thinking too hard.’”

“Okay, now you’re just embarrassing me,” Steve mutters, trying to grab the note again.

But then Dustin freezes, his eyes widening as he reads a particular line. A slow grin spreads across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Steve asks, suddenly nervous.

“‘The dream I had about you in that red bathing suit….” his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What dream, Harrington?”

Steve’s face turns beet red. “Nope. Not happening.”

“Was it romantic? Or… did you have to wake up in the middle of the night to take a shower after?” Dustin teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Dustin, I swear, if you—”

“Does she know about this dream?!”

Steve grabs the note and crumples it in his fist. “Forget you ever read that.”

But Dustin is already cackling, doubling over with laughter. “Oh, this is too good. You had a secret ninth-grade fantasy about her, and now you’re still pining after her? Man, you’re pathetic!”

Steve groans, running a hand down his face. “Why do I even talk to you?”

“Because I’m your only hope,” Dustin says, still laughing as he throws an arm over Steve’s shoulder. “Now, let’s go use this note to win her over. Minus the dream part, obviously. Unless you want to make things really interesting.”

Steve sighs, shaking his head but unable to keep the small smile off his face. “I’m so going to regret this.”

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Steve grips the steering wheel a little tighter, his knuckles turning white as Dustin leans over from the passenger seat with that insufferable grin plastered on his face.

“You realize the more you avoid it, the worse it sounds, right? Like, was this dream so scandalous it could ruin your life?”

Steve groans, rolling his eyes as he pulls up to a stoplight. “No, it wasn’t scandalous. It was… Look, it’s none of your business.”

Dustin leans closer, his grin widening, “Was it one of those superhero moments where she saved you from drowning?” He pauses dramatically, tapping his chin. “Actually, no—let me guess. You were the one saving her…chest compressions, mouth to mouth.”

Steve nearly chokes on his own breath, his hand slamming against the wheel. “Dustin, I swear—”

“Oh my God,” Dustin cuts him off, gasping in mock realization. “Was it one of those dreams? Like, she’s there in slow motion, water dripping off her, and you’re there rubbing tanning oil all over her body?”

“Cut it out, Henderson!” Steve snaps, his ears burning.

Dustin smirks, leaning back in his seat. “Man, you’re so red right now. It must’ve been some dream.”

“You seriously need a hobby.”

“This is my hobby,” Dustin says proudly. “Now, tell me about the dream, or I’ll tell her there’s a dream.”

“You wouldn’t,” Steve says, eyes narrowing as the light turns green. He presses the gas a little harder than necessary.

“Oh, I absolutely would,” Dustin replies, grinning ear to ear. “She’d love to know how much you’ve been thinking about her—dream Steve and all.”

“Fine!” Steve shouts, throwing one hand in the air. “It wasn’t even that bad! It was just… we were at the pool at my house, and she was… laughing, okay? It wasn’t some weird thing. It was just her, and she was happy, and it stuck with me. End of story.”

Dustin blinks at him, unimpressed. “That’s it?”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Steve says firmly.

Dustin leans back, letting the silence hang for a moment. “You’re the lamest romantic I’ve ever met.”

Steve sighs in relief. “Thank you.”

“But I’m still going to tell her about it.”

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The next afternoon, you sit cross-legged on your bed, staring at your phone and chewing on your bottom lip. Inviting Nancy Wheeler over wasn’t exactly something you’d planned on doing in this lifetime. You’d always been friendly enough, sure, but hanging out one-on-one? Never happened. Still, if there’s anyone who might understand what you’re going through, it’s her.

When Nancy arrives, she hesitates in the doorway, tilting her head curiously. “Hey,” she says, giving you a small, cautious smile. “This is… unexpected.”

“I know,” you admit, stepping aside to let her in. “It’s weird, right? Me, asking you over. But I—well, I need some advice. About Steve.”

Her brows shoot up, and she gives a small laugh of surprise. “Steve?”

You nod quickly, leading her to your room. “Yeah, and before you say anything, I know it’s probably strange. I mean, he’s my best friend, so I should probably know how to handle this myself, but…” You flop onto the bed with a groan, running a hand through your hair. “I just—I feel like I need a different perspective. And you probably know him better than anyone else—aside from me, of course.”

Nancy sits at the edge of the bed, folding her hands in her lap as she listens. “Okay,” she says slowly, her tone thoughtful. “What’s going on?”

You exhale sharply, tugging at the hem of your sweater. “The other night, during all the chaos, Steve said some things. Big things. About… how he feels about me.”

Nancy blinks, her expression unreadable as she processes your words. “What kind of things?”

“Like… intense things. Like, ‘You’re my whole world,’ kind of things.” You let out a nervous laugh. “And now I don’t know what to do with it. What if it was just the adrenaline talking? What if he doesn’t really mean it?”

Nancy leans back slightly, tilting her head. “Why would you think he didn’t mean it?”

You shrug helplessly. “Because… it’s Steve. He’s been in love with you before. He’s dated other girls. What if I’m just… another phase? Or worse, what if this ruins everything between us?”

Nancy softens, a small smile forming on her lips. “Steve doesn’t really do phases. Sure, he’s dated other people, but he’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at you.”

You blink, her words catching you off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that even when we were together, it was obvious how much you meant to him. He talks about you like you hung the stars, Y/N. And I know you’ve been there for him in ways I never could be.” Nancy pauses, then adds gently, “But this isn’t about me. It’s about you. What do you want to happen?”

You hesitate, your cheeks warming as memories of that night with Steve flash through your mind. You almost tell her—that one time, late at night, when things between you and Steve had finally boiled over. When you’d crossed a line that had been hovering between you for years. But instead of making things clearer, it had only complicated everything. And you’d been the one to say it: We should just stay friends.

You stop yourself before the words can escape and opt for something safer. “One time, we… broached the topic of maybe having feelings for each other. But I was the one who shut it down. I was scared of losing him, and I told him it’d be better if we stayed friends.”

Nancy nods slowly, her gaze thoughtful. “And do you still feel that way?”

Your throat tightens, and you struggle to find the words. “I just… I’ve always loved Steve. Not just as my best friend, but more than that. But I never thought he’d see me that way, you know? And now that he’s said this, I don’t know if I can let myself believe it.”

Nancy offers a small smile, her voice steady. “If Steve said it, he meant it. He doesn’t just throw those words around, especially not with you. But I get why you’re scared. It’s a big leap, and there’s a lot at stake. I guess the question is—do you trust him enough to take that leap?”

You sit in silence for a moment, her words sinking in. Finally, you let out a shaky breath. “I want to trust him. I just don’t want to lose him.”

Nancy stands up, grabbing her bag. “I don’t think you’re going to lose him. But you’re never going to know unless you talk to him. Steve’s stubborn, but he’s also patient. He’ll wait until you’re ready.”

You follow her to the door, her words echoing in your mind. “Thanks, Nancy,” you say quietly. “I needed that.”

She offers you a knowing smile. “Anytime. And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not just his best friend. You’re his person. Don’t forget that.”

 Nancy’s words settle into the air, and a pang of guilt twists in your chest. You sit back on your bed, nervously picking at the frayed threads of your sweater.

“Nancy,” you start, your voice quieter than before. “Can I ask you something? And you can be honest, okay?”

She tilts her head, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “Of course.”

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of what you’re about to say. “Did I… ever make things harder for you and Steve? When you two were together?”

Nancy looks surprised for a moment, but she recovers quickly, shaking her head. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” you admit, guilt gnawing at you. “It’s just… he was my best friend, you know? And I guess I always worried that maybe—maybe I got in the way. Like, maybe my relationship with him made things weird or caused tension between you two. Every other girl broke up with him and blamed me.” 

Nancy’s expression softens, and she sits down beside you on the bed. “Y/N, listen to me. Whatever issues Steve and I had, they weren’t because of you. It’s on Steve and I. It’s on me. And, honestly… I’ve felt bad about it for a long time.”

You glance at her, your brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Nancy exhales deeply, brushing a hand through her hair as she glances at you, her expression tinged with guilt. “I guess I should just say it,” she starts hesitantly. “Everything that happened at Murray’s last week… it wasn’t exactly planned. But it also wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment thing, either.”

You blink, confused for a moment before realization dawns. “You mean… when you were with Jonathan?”

Nancy nods, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Yeah. I feel awful about it, especially because—well, Steve and I weren’t officially broken up yet. We were in this weird place, like we both knew things were falling apart, but we hadn’t said it out loud. And then…” She pauses, guilt flickering in her eyes. “I said some things I can’t take back.”

You hesitate, “Steve…kind of hinted that you did.”

She sighs, dropping her gaze. “I told him I didn’t love him. Not really. And I was drunk, so I just blurted it out. And after that, I… I slept with Jonathan when we were at Murray’s.”

Her voice is heavy with regret, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to respond. She looks at you again, her eyes searching yours. “I hate that I hurt Steve like that, but honestly? After everything with Barb and Will last year, I waited. For a whole month, I waited for Jonathan to make a move, to say something, to give me some kind of sign. But he didn’t. And when he didn’t… I went back to Steve.”

You frown slightly, the pieces of their complicated history falling into place. “So, you and Steve…”

Nancy nods. “We weren’t perfect, not by a long shot, but it felt safe. Familiar. Like maybe if I tried hard enough, I could make it work. But deep down, I think I always knew it wasn’t going to last.”

Her words leave you quiet, a strange mix of emotions swirling in your chest. “Do you think he… knows how you felt?”

“I think he does now,” she admits softly. “After everything that happened last week, I think we both finally faced the truth. We weren’t holding onto each other because we were in love. We were holding on because it was easier than letting go.”

Her honesty feels like a weight lifted, and yet it also leaves you with a strange pang of guilt. “Nancy, I never meant to… I don’t know, make things harder for you two.”

She shakes her head quickly. “You didn’t. Trust me, Y/N, you were never the problem. If anything, I think you were part of what kept Steve grounded when everything else was falling apart.”

You open your mouth to argue, but she cuts you off, her tone firm. “Listen. Whatever happened between Steve and me, it was on us. You’ve always been his best friend. And honestly? You were what he needed—what he always needed. Don’t feel guilty about that.”

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Nancy pulls into the driveway of her house just as she spots Steve’s unmistakable car parked at the curb. She furrows her brow, stepping out of her car as Steve gets out of his.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, crossing her arms.

Steve jerks a thumb toward the passenger side of his car, where Dustin is already halfway out, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “Dropping off the little twerp,” he says, his tone teasing.

“Hey!” Dustin protests, shooting a glare at Steve before turning to Nancy. “Don’t let him fool you—he’s practically begging for my advice every time we hang out now.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Get inside, Henderson.”

Dustin smirks but doesn’t argue, heading toward the front door. As he disappears inside, Nancy tilts her head at Steve, her curiosity piqued.

“So,” she says, leaning casually against her car, “what’s really going on?”

Steve shifts uncomfortably, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “What makes you think anything’s going on?”

Nancy raises an eyebrow, giving him a knowing look. “Because I just came from Y/N’s house.”

Steve stiffens, his expression guarded. “Yeah? And?”

“And,” Nancy says slowly, “she’s… confused. But in a good way. If that makes sense.”

Steve lets out a bitter laugh. “Confused. Right. That’s one way to put it.”

Nancy frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means she’s the one pulling away,” Steve says, frustration creeping into his voice. “And it’s not the first time, either. Every time things get close—too close—she just… runs. Like I don’t mean enough for her to stay.”

Nancy crosses her arms, her expression softening. “Steve, that’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” he snaps, before immediately sighing and running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I just… I don’t get it. I put myself out there, and she shuts down. What am I supposed to do with that?”

Nancy steps closer, her tone firm but gentle. “You’re supposed to remember that Y/N’s been through a lot. She’s not pulling away because you don’t mean enough—she’s pulling away because you mean too much, and it terrifies her. You know that.”

Steve leans back against his car, his jaw tightening. “I’m tired of being the one who’s always chasing, Nancy.”

“I get that,” she says softly. “But you’re not exactly easy for her, either. You think it’s been simple for her to figure out where she fits into your life? Especially with… everything that’s happened?”

Steve looks at her, his frustration giving way to something more vulnerable.

Nancy sighs, her voice softening. “Steve, she cares about you. So much. But she’s scared—of hurting you, of getting hurt, of all of it. You’re both trying to protect each other in the most backward ways possible.”

Steve looks down at the pavement, her words sinking in.

“You know her better than anyone,” Nancy continues. “If you really care about her—and I know you do—you’ll be patient. She needs that from you right now, even if she doesn’t know how to say it.”

Steve nods slowly, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “And if she keeps running?”

Nancy smirks faintly. “Then you stop chasing her like some knight in shining armor and just be her friend. Show her you’re not going anywhere. That’s what she really needs.”

Steve exhales, the tension in his shoulders easing just a bit. “You really think I have a shot?”

Nancy nods firmly. “I do. But you’re going to have to stop letting your ego get in the way and start listening to her.”

Steve offers a small smile. “Thanks, Wheeler. You’re not half-bad at this advice thing.”

Nancy chuckles, stepping back toward her car. “Don’t let it go to your head, Harrington. Now, go figure it out.”

Steve watches her head inside before climbing back into his car, her words still echoing in his mind. For the first time in a while, he feels like maybe he has a chance.

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Steve stands on the porch, his hand hesitating over the doorbell, unsure if he’s doing the right thing. Every nerve in his body is telling him to turn around, to give you the space you’ve been demanding, but something in him refuses to walk away. Not this time.

He knocks. A soft, quiet sound that somehow feels louder than it should be. He waits, but when the door finally creaks open, he’s not sure what he’s expecting. There you are, your eyes red, face blotchy, but it’s the exhaustion in your expression that hits him hardest. Like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world, and he hasn’t been there to help you with it.

You stare at him for a long beat, silent. Then, your eyes flicker away, and you step aside, almost reluctantly, like you want to pull away but can’t quite make yourself do it.

Steve steps into the dim hallway, pausing for a moment before looking at you again, his voice shaky as he finally speaks. “We’re good,” he says, the words feeling foreign on his tongue now. He calls to mind what he told you the other night, the words that had earned him a response from you that felt so much more promising than this silence between you now.

You look away, a small, almost imperceptible shake of your head. He swallows hard, the rawness of what he’s saying clawing at him. “Look, we don’t have to talk about it, okay?” he mutters, stepping closer, but careful not to push you. “I just need to be with you tonight. Like we used to. Listening to Queen, being there for each other. We’ve been through so much the past few days, so much we haven’t even—”

He cuts himself off, his voice trailing off in the heavy silence that fills the space between you. He wants to say more, wants to explain how terrified he is that he’s losing you, how much he’s been aching in this silence, but the words catch in his chest, too painful to speak aloud.

Your gaze softens for just a second, but it’s fleeting, and when you look at him again, there’s a distance that wasn’t there before. The ache in Steve’s chest grows sharper, but he doesn’t move. He’s here now. He’s not leaving.

With a sigh, you slowly nod, and it’s the smallest of gestures, but it feels like a concession, like you’re letting him in even though you’re not sure you should.

Steve steps past you, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He doesn’t know how this will play out, or what the next day will bring. But tonight, for a few hours, he wants to hold onto the part of you he still knows. Maybe tomorrow he’ll figure out what to do with the mess that’s left between you. But for now, he just wants to be there.

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You lay on the bed, your eyes tracing the familiar cracks in the ceiling as silent tears slip down your face. The weight of everything—the words, the feelings, the confusion—presses down on you in a way you can’t escape. You’re torn between wanting to stay close to Steve, to believe that there’s something real between you, and the fear that maybe all of this is just a result of the chaos surrounding you.

Steve lays next to you, the soft hum of the record player filling the room, but the silence between you is thick and suffocating. Neither of you speaks. Both of you are lost in your thoughts, drowning in the unspoken tension that’s become impossible to ignore.

After a long, painful silence, you reach out, your hand trembling as you pick up a crumpled-up note from the bed beside you. It’s a familiar weight, one that you’d hidden for years, and now it feels like the only thing you can offer him. You hand Steve the crumpled letter. Your fingers linger for a second before letting go, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Read it when you get home, okay?”

Steve hesitates, glancing between the letter and you. “Are you sure?”

You nod, eyes fixed on the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze. “Just… not here. Please.”

He doesn’t push, sensing the fragility of the moment. Instead, he tucks the letter carefully into his jacket pocket and lays back beside you, the weight of unspoken words thick in the air. For the rest of the night, neither of you speaks, the silence both comforting and charged.

When it’s time for him to leave, Steve rises quietly, his steps deliberate and slow. He pauses at the door, glancing back at you one last time, curled up under the covers, your face turned away. He reaches into his jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper—the note he found with Dustin.

Without a word, he places it on your dresser, hidden just enough for you to find it later, and slips out of the room.

As the door clicks shut, you close your eyes, the heaviness of the night settling over you. Little do you know, the words Steve left behind are waiting to change everything.

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Steve steps into his darkened house, the familiar silence pressing in around him. Tossing his keys onto the kitchen counter, he pulls the crumpled letter from his pocket and unfolds it carefully, smoothing the creases as if the words might slip away if he isn’t gentle enough.

The handwriting is unmistakably yours—slightly slanted, the ink smudged in places. His chest tightens before he even reads the first word, the weight of what this letter might hold hitting him like a freight train.

Dear Steve,

I’m not sure I should even be writing this. Maybe I won’t even give it to you. Do you remember in the fifth grade when you asked me to marry you? I told you boys were gross and I’d never marry one. Later that night, you climbed the tree outside my window for the first time and knocked on the glass to propose again. You said your mom had told you about Romeo and Juliet, and how Romeo climbed up to her window because he loved her. You promised you’d never stop climbing my window until I said yes because you loved me.

As his eyes scan the page, memories flash through his mind like a reel of film. A small smile tugs at his lips, bittersweet and nostalgic. He does remember. He remembers the way you rolled your eyes at him, how he’s never stopped climbing that tree outside your window and he never will.

A year later, when we were twelve, some kids in our class started talking about kissing, and everyone thought it was gross. So we tried it. We both liked it. A lot. I think that’s because we liked each other. 

His breath catches. He’s suddenly back in that moment—young, nervous, and exhilarated. He remembers the way your laughter had bubbled up after, the way you had looked at him like he was the only person in the world.

Here’s where the problem is, Steve—I don’t think I ever stopped liking you.

Steve swallows hard, his fingers gripping the edge of the paper as his heart pounds in his chest. He reads the words again, slower this time, as if savoring them will make them feel less surreal.

I didn’t fully realize it at first. Sure, I’ve had crushes on other boys, but none of them made me feel the way you do. You’re the one I actually enjoy spending time with. When Mom and Dad fight, she always tells me that if I ever get married, I need to marry someone who’s my friend first. She says the key to a happy relationship is falling in love with your best friend. (I still think marriage is kind of gross, and boys are too. You’re just the least gross, I guess.) And, well… you’re my best friend.

Sometimes I think about being an adult with you—no school, just us. We could listen to music and watch movies all day long. We could kiss whenever we wanted to. (I’ve wanted to kiss you again for a while now, but you’ve been kissing Julie from science class, and I don’t want it to feel like I’m kissing her by kissing you.) Honestly, I’d love to just laugh with you for the rest of my life.

A soft, shaky laugh escapes him, but it’s lined with something deeper—regret, maybe, or longing. He presses a hand to his face, trying to process the flood of emotions washing over him.

The letter feels like a window into a version of you he never fully understood, a version that had been hiding in plain sight all along. You had felt this way for so long, and he had been so blind to it, too caught up in his own confusion and fears to notice.

You’re always telling me how much I annoy you because I can never pick a favorite anything. But the truth is, I do have a favorite—and it’s you.

You’re my favorite person. My favorite way to spend a late night at Lover’s Lake. My favorite pair of eyes to get lost in when we’re hiding under the covers, trying not to get caught after you’ve snuck in. My favorite arms to wrap around me. My favorite voice.

You’re all my favorites.

Okay, I’m grossing myself out now, so I’m going to stop writing. But I guess… I hope I fall in love with you. And maybe one day you’ll feel the same. I think I’d like that a lot.

Y/N

As he reads the final lines—You’re my favorite person… You’re all of my favorites—he feels something inside him crack open.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible in the empty room.

He sets the letter down on the counter, staring at it as if it might disappear. A lump rises in his throat, and he swipes at his eyes quickly, irritated at himself for being this emotional.

But he can’t help it. The words you wrote, the vulnerability you had poured into them—it’s everything he’s ever wanted to hear and everything he’s terrified of.

Grabbing the letter, he folds it carefully and tucks it back into his pocket, a newfound determination lighting his eyes.

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You stand in front of the mirror, smoothing out your dress for the winter ball. It feels strange dressing up for an event that’s not even about you—but the kids deserve this, and chaperoning is part of the deal. The fact that Steve might be there too only adds to the weight pressing on your chest.

As you reach for your jewelry box on the dresser, your hand grazes something unfamiliar. You glance down to find a folded piece of notebook paper, tucked just out of sight beneath your hairbrush.

Curious, you pick it up, noticing the boyish scrawl of handwriting on the front. You immediately recognize it. Steve’s.

Your heart stutters. You sit on the edge of your bed, fingers trembling slightly as you unfold the note. The edges are frayed, and the ink is faint in places, as if it’s been folded and tucked away for years.

You start to read:

Y/N,

I don’t know why I’m writing this, but if I don’t, I think I might lose my mind. I can’t say this to you out loud, and maybe I’ll never give this to you, but at least it’s out of my head.

You’re my favorite person. You’re the one I think about when I’m having a bad day, the one who makes me laugh so hard I forget about everything else. 

But it’s not just that. It’s so much more. So, I put in here a list I’ve made of all the reasons why you’re my favorite person.

The way you always sticks up for people, even when you’re intimidated. It’s the way you bite your lip when you’re thinking too hard. Or how you always get mad when I cheat at Monopoly, even though you know I’ll never stop doing it. It’s how everything feels easier when you’re around, like nothing can touch me. Don’t even get me started about the dream I had about you in that red bathing suit. You know the one…Yeah. I’m definitely never letting you read this.

Anyways, I think I like you, Y/N. Scratch that—I know I do. I like you in a way that feels way too big for me to handle. But I don’t know if I’ll ever tell you because what if it messes everything up? You’re my best friend, and I’d rather keep you in my life like this than risk losing you completely.

So, yeah. I like you. A lot. And if you ever find this somehow, just know that even if I never say it, it’s how I’ve always felt.

Steve

You lower the note slowly, your vision blurred by the tears pooling in your eyes. The boy Steve was back then—earnest, vulnerable, and so full of quiet, unspoken affection—is written all over these words. And now, looking back, you can see him in the man he is today.

He’s always felt this way.

Your chest tightens as the truth settles over you, undeniable and steady, like the weight of the letter in your hand. This wasn’t adrenaline, or chaos, or the heat of the moment making him say what he did at the Byers’ house. It’s always been there—this love he’s carried for you, just like the note. It was there the day you told him it was best to just stay friends. It was there on every night he’d sneak under your covers or you under his. And it was there in every knowing look from your friends, every teasing question about where you’d both disappeared to when no one else could find you.

Carefully, you fold it back up, your hands trembling as you slip it into your jewelry box like a secret you’re not ready to let go of but need to protect. You glance at the clock, realizing you’re running out of time, but the thought barely registers.

Taking a shaky breath, you brush away the stray tears threatening to streak your makeup. And for the first time in days, there’s no confusion, no doubt. Only the exhilarating, terrifying truth: Steve’s feelings weren’t born in a single moment—they’ve been there for years. Just like yours.

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[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Cherry.

Synopsis - The lines of friendship get a little blurry, one unassuming Friday night in December.

Pairing - Bestfriend!Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Warnings - smut. cursing. steve's got an ego, but for good reason.

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 2k

Author's Note - hi lovelies!! my first steve fic!! listen, I actually really didn't enjoy stranger things, but... I love this man. he's charming and he's a softie and he's such a good character to write. hope you enjoy this - it's got me all warm and fuzzy. please feel free to send me a christmas request if you fancy, I'm in the mood to write some seasonal fics. much love, always!! <3

as always, reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics!! please, if you enjoyed, consider reblogging this so it gets further reach. comments and feedback are always appreciated!! thanks, angels. <3

Part Two. Part Three. Part Four. Masterlist. Inbox. The Moodboard. Series Masterlist.

Three rocks ping off the panes of your bedroom window in quick succession.

You're applying your moisturiser in the mirror, winding down and almost ready for bed. Your reflection is illuminated by a faint glow from the fairy lights you've draped over the headboard for the festive season, warm and comforting. A soft, jazzy melody is drifting from the radio softly, a welcome noise to break up the silence.

Another rock hits your window.

You fly out of your seat and towards the source of the trouble, worried that he's going to throw one too hard one of these days.

"Steve," you hiss as you yank it open. "Cut it out. Just come through the door."

"Where's the fun in that?" he chuckles, eyes rife with mischief.

You roll your eyes but step back anyway, making room for him to climb the tree and dive through the window into your room.

"Hi, sugar."

"Hi, Steven."

He grins at you, bright and awake despite the late hour.

"Don't you have better plans on a Friday night, King Steve?"

"And miss out on seeing you in your little pink pyjamas? Absolutely not."

You shove at his chest, smacking him upside the head for good measure. He feigns pain and wraps his arms around your middle, picking you up off the ground and spinning you in circles. You shriek, and the sound makes him laugh.

"Okay, okay! I'm dizzy! Put me down!"

He obliges by throwing you unceremoniously onto your bed, smirking when you almost bounce off it.

"So," he begins, sitting down across from you. "How was it? Do you feel like a whole new woman?"

You scoff.

"What? That bad?"

"Yeah, that bad. We didn't even do it."

He quirks a brow in curiosity, tilting his head to look at you.

"I thought tonight was the big night?"

"Yeah, it was supposed to be. But he was kissing me, and it just didn't feel... right? He started grabbing at me and I realised that you can only lose your virginity once - and that definitely wasn't how I wanted to lose mine."

You shrug, trying to play indifference, but Steve can see the hurt in your eyes.

"You always deserved so much better than him."

"Thanks, Steve."

"Come on, Cherry. The guy is an asshole who happens to be attractive. His face is the only thing he's got going for him."

The mention of your childhood nickname has memories of fruit flavoured popsicles on summer days flooding back. Laughter by the pool, pushing Steve in and screeching when he dragged you with him, staying out in the sun until you were both exhausted. Cherry. You've always been Steve's Cherry, for as long as you can remember. You still wear the lip balm he bought you last year, fitting for your moniker.

"You didn't like him from the start. Actually, you've never liked any guy that has ever liked me."

"Because they're not good enough for you."

"Says who?"

"Says me."

"And you're the boss of me and my love life now?"

"I'm the person that knows you better than anyone in the entire world. I think I have a pretty good view on things."

You huff, but accept your defeat in knowing that he's right. No one knows you like him. Steve always does this. He pisses you off, but makes you love him a tiny bit more each time.

He grabs your foot from the bed, pressing his thumbs into your sole. You relax instantly, tired of half arguing with him.

"I give up."

"With what?"

"Dating. Fuck it."

He chuckles, rubbing soothing patterns into your ankle gently.

"You've barely even started."

"Ooo, sorry Mr Womaniser."

"Stop it," he chides, pinching your calf. "Maybe The One for you just isn't in Hawkins. This place has always been too small for us anyway."

"Yeah, maybe. It'll all change when we go to college, hopefully."

"Exactly. It'll be a whole different ball game. There'll be tonnes of hot guys begging for your attention."

"And you'll be fighting them off."

"Yes I will."

You laugh, poking him in the chest with your foot teasingly.

"And maybe the college guys will actually know what they're doing in bed."

"Hey, some of us do know!"

"Yeah yeah, Steve's good in bed. I've heard it all before."

"Don't be jealous, Cherry baby."

"Jealous isn't quite the word I'd use."

"No?"

He drops your foot and scoots closer, settling in between your parted legs.

"You're not even a little bit curious what all the rumours are about?"

"Steve," you laugh. "I think they're probably just exactly that. Rumours."

He inches in towards you, so his forehead is almost touching yours. Running his fingers up and down the outside of your thigh, he takes a deep breath in.

"You should let me show you just how much I know. We're not all clueless, Cherry. I'm confident I could make you feel good."

You exhale with a shudder.

"I'm not letting you take my virginity, Steve."

"I don't want to. There's a thousand ways I can make your legs shake without fucking you, baby."

You stare into his big doe eyes, admiring the way a single strand of hair has fallen across his forehead. You look for a shred of doubt, or amusement, but all you see is love. Admiration. Trust. Sincerity.

"Okay," you breathe, before your mind has truly processed what you're saying. "Show me what you got, Harrington."

He grins, slow and saccharine, like the cat who got the cream.

"Steve?" you whisper.

"Yeah?"

"This isn't going to fuck things up between us, is it?"

He smiles, big and bright.

"Never. Nothing is ever going to fuck things up between us. It's you and me forever, Cherry Pie."

You chuckle at the nickname, stroking his cheek with your thumb.

"Well, then what are you waiting for?"

He shakes his head and grabs your ankle, pulling you across the bed and into his body. Wrapping a hand around the back of your neck, he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours.

"If at any point this gets weird, or you don't like it... Just say the words, okay?"

"Okay," you breathe, inhaling the scent of mint from his tongue. "Promise."

"Can I kiss you?"

"You don't usually ask," you tease.

It's no secret that you and Steve have kissed a few times. Once after prom, once at a party here and there, once when you were cuddled in bed comforting him after a break up. But it's never led to anything more. Which is probably why this feels a little different.

"I know, but this is a little more... intense, than usual."

You try to ignore the way your heart swells at his consideration for you, and nod your head gently.

"Kiss me. Please."

Steve wastes no time, leaning in to press his lips to yours. He tastes like spearmint and soda, with a hint of the cherry lipbalm he steals from your nightstand. You instinctively shuffle closer to him, straddling his lap as his arms bracket themselves around you. It's like he can't decide where to put his hands - they're roaming up your back, squeezing your ass, kneading your thighs. He's antsy and impatient, eager to feel you.

"Lie back," he whispers against your mouth, tipping you onto the bed.

Your head hits your pillows and you crane your neck to watch him as he crawls down your body, eyes never leaving yours.

"Steve-"

"Stop thinking so hard, Cherry. I can practically hear your thoughts."

You huff but can't keep the smile off your face, willing your mind to stop racing.

"Let me quiet things down, hmm?"

Steve presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee, trailing up and up until he reaches your hip. He licks across your hipbone before nipping it with his teeth, smirking when you gasp.

Grasping the waistband of your pyjama shorts, he asks for permission with his eyes, no words needed. You nod and lift your hips, letting him slide them down your body.

You've never been so exposed, which is causing a sudden realisation that the two of you are crossing a line that can never be uncrossed. As if he can read your mind, Steve presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, tender and full of love.

"Babe, if you want to stop..."

"I don't, I promise. I'm just nervous. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise," he murmurs, resting his head on your thigh and looking up at you. "Never apologise. You're doing so good, Cherry. I love you."

You didn't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't I love you. You've both said it to each other a million times, but something about saying it in this exact moment makes it feel... weighted. You'll talk about it later. You'll make sure of it.

"I love you too. So much."

You're whispering, scared to ruin the peace you've created. Steve kisses your skin again gently, gazing at you like you've hung the stars just for him.

"Let me make you feel good, okay?"

When you nod, Steve nudges your core with his nose, arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you anchored in place.

"So pretty," he's mumbling. "Prettiest fuckin' girl I've ever seen."

He starts slow, easing you in carefully. Kitten licks and gentle nips, testing the waters. When you tangle a hand into his hair and tug, Steve gets the message.

"You want more, pretty baby?"

"Yes," you confirm, more breathless than intended. "Please."

He dives back in, this time with more intention. His nose keeps nudging your clit, the friction licking up your spine deliciously. It's like he can't get enough, eating you out like a man starved.

He groans into your heat, the vibrations making you whine. When he curls his tongue just right, you keen, the sounds leaving your mouth foreign to the both of you.

"Fuck, you sound so beautiful. You're perfect. God, you're perfect."

"Stevie," you pant. "So close."

"I got you. Atta girl, I got you. That's my girl, give it to me."

Maybe it's the my girl, or maybe it's the way he's slipped two fingers into you, but the coil snaps. Your back arches off the bed as white heat engulfs your body, vision going black for a moment. You can hear him talking you through it, loving and encouraging. Eventually, your grip on his hair loosens as you go lax, collapsing back against the comforter.

Steve grins at you as he licks his fingers clean, crawling up your body to kiss you. You groan when you taste yourself, arms wrapping around his shoulders to keep him close. Resting his head on your chest, you run your fingers through his hair, humming gently when he relaxes.

"You okay?"

"Never better," you laugh. "You're good with your mouth, Harrington. I'll give you that."

"Told you the rumours were true."

You shake your head and reach over, grabbing the glass of water from your nightstand and taking a sip. You offer it to Steve without a second thought, rolling your eyes when he downs the rest.

He plucks your cherry lipbalm from the drawer and applies it to himself, before leaning up to carefully do the same to you. He pecks your lips sweetly before returning it to its rightful place.

"You replace it, don't you?"

"Hmm?"

"The chapstick. I've had it for a whole year, and I've never even come close to reaching the end."

He blushes as he looks at you, suddenly bashful.

"It's special," he murmurs. "It's our thing, you know? And it smells good. I like knowing that I'm the only one who knows you taste like cherries."

You want to poke fun at him, say something to make him laugh. But you can't. He's rendered you speechless, for the second time in one night.

"I like knowing the reason you taste like spearmint is because I've been slipping pieces of gum into the pockets of your jeans for ten years."

"I knew it," he laughs, leaning up to kiss you firmly. "I can't tell you the last time I bought gum."

"You're welcome."

Steve shucks off his jeans and his shirt, climbing into your bed with just his boxers on. You slip your underwear up your legs before getting under the comforter with him, tangling your limbs with his.

The tunes from the radio still hum gently as the fairy lights flicker.

The room is unchanged.

The people in it are not.

read Part Two here. Part Three here. Part Four here.

@lillian-gallows @bookish-embroidery-witch @sweetdazequeen @fruityforcocoapuffs @steviespookie @livsters @diffrent-spokes @violet2022 @mrsjoequinn @valerievortex @chrrymunson

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Desire, I'm Hungry

Summary: You and Steve happen upon a strange flower and suddenly find yourselves separated from your friends in the Upside Down. An unrelenting desire overtakes the both of you, taking your friendship past the point of no return.

CW: Porn with plot. Sex pollen (so this could be considered forced intimacy). Underlying idiots in love. Mutual pining. AFAB Reader. Steve's canon S4 injuries. Steve's a little mean. Fluff ending. Biting. Blood. Fingering. Makeshift gag. Unprotected P in V. Reader has a vagina. Small breeding kink (it is Steve, after all). Creampie.

This one would not leave my brain until I got it out! Enjoy!

WC: 10.4K

In all the years you had come to know Steve Harrington it had its ups and downs. Being his best friend came with firsthand experience with all things Upside Down that ultimately led you into some pretty precarious situations.

Demogorgans, demo-dogs, Russians and a monster composed solely of melted people were the least of your worries because HE had always been there.

Until this very moment you saw him as untouchable. An invincible protector, the one person who came when you needed to be saved, not the person who needed saving.

He'd reached for your hand in desperation as he disappeared under Lover's Lake. The tips of his fingers slipped through yours, leaving you grasping and screaming out in panic and shock.

“Steve! No, no, no, no!” You scrambled next to Robin, pulling off your jacket about to jump in when she suddenly caught your wrist.

“Hey Y/N! No! You can't just jump in there!” She yelled. Before you could get a word of protest out, you heard Eddie yell behind you.

“Woah, Wheeler you're not going in there, are you?”

“Just wait here.” She replied, briefly cutting her eyes to you before the sound of splashing water drew your attention.

“Holy shit,” Robin breathed out, clutching a hand over her mouth.

“Robin, we can't stay here. Not with both of them down there! Let's go!” Reaching out to her, as you turned back to look at the metalhead. “Eddie?”

“What? No. You can't go. What the fuck man!” He wailed. “She said wait.”

“Yeah, we heard her.” Robin finally nodded, squeezing your hand reassuringly as you both leapt from the boat.

-

You'd never been a strong swimmer, even with all the summers spent by the Harrington's pool. Much more interested in getting some sun instead of swimming laps.

Only now you were regretting never listening to the boy when he tried to give you those life preserving pointers, as you swam to the pulsating gate beneath Lover's Lake. Your lungs were on fire by the time you made it to the opening, Robin extending her hand to help you through.

Eddie surprisingly followed a moment after, while you were still trying to catch your breath.

Suddenly, ear splitting screeching noises and Nancy's voice pulled your focus in time to see Satan’s own flying hell spawn attacking Steve on the ground, as she attempted to fight them off.

“Oh my God! We have to help them!” You shouted, taking off in a sprint toward your friends, Eddie and Robin hot on your heels. All regard for your own safety was quickly forgotten.

A weapon was the furthest thing from your mind but as you drew closer, you realized just how dire the situation appeared.

Steve was being strangled by one of the creatures, with its tail wrapped around his neck and another making a meal of him. Nancy had successfully pried one off and was in the midst of fighting it back.

“Steve! Just hang on!” You shouted, stomping a foot down directly on this thing's back as it shrieked out in pain releasing its jaw from his side, immediately turning its attention toward you.

“Oh fuck.” You hissed, as it leapt up taking flight. You turned to run but Robin was right there with an oar.

You ducked as she bashed into this thing, splintering the wood as it fell to the ground. Rushing over you began to stomp on it repeatedly until it stopped moving.

You all turned in time to see Steve holding this creature by the tail and whip it around hitting the ground until it lost consciousness. Stepping on it with his bare foot and pulling until he ripped it apart with his bare hands.

“Fuck,” you huffed, stunned. He was bloodied and bruised, as he spit blood from his mouth, but he was alive.

Robin leaned over slightly, whispering low enough for only you to hear.

“Might want to pick your jaw up off the floor.”

You shut your mouth and shot her a sideways glance, as she snickered.

The joy of a victory was short lived as you rushed over to Steve’s side.

‘Steve, are you okay?” Suddenly hurdling yourself into his chest with a thud as he grunted out, throwing your arms around his neck as he wound his around your back, holding a little too tightly and maybe a few seconds too long before letting go to give you a proper answer.

“Well,” Looking down at his torso, when you stepped back. “They took about a pound of flesh. But, other than that, yeah, never better.”

Robin began ranting about rabies, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of Steve as your own set of worries began to seep in. Completely lost on the conversation around you until you heard Nancy yell.

“The woods. Come on!”

“Y/N, c’mon!” Steve frantically tugged at your arm before you all made a run for cover.

You were huddled under skull rock pressed in like sardines, waiting with bated breath until the bats finally dispersed.

Everyone grumbled, and voiced concerns as you stood. Steve took a few uneasy steps before he fell against the rocky surface opposite of you.

“Oh shit,” coming out on a shaky exhale, as he tried to upright himself.

“Steve?” Your head whipped around as you stepped into his space, reaching out to help steady him.

“I'm fine. I'm fine.” He huffed out, still a little dazed.

“No, no you're not. You're bleeding. Sit down.” Worrying over him.

He slid down, as you knelt in front of him, guiding his wrist to take his hand away from his oozing wound. Nancy began to tear the bottom of her shirt, quickly handing you the fabric.

Robin started rambling about rabies again before you glared at her.

“Rob, not helping!” You hissed before she mumbled an apology and backed away from the two of you.

“You ready?” Asking him as he looked down at you, poised with his makeshift bandage.

“Yeah, just do it.” He pinched his eyes closed, bracing himself, wincing once you pulled it taut against his abdomen and began wrapping.

“Too tight?” Chancing a glance up at him but he was already staring down at you, with a scowl plastered across his features.

“Why the hell are you down here?” He suddenly blurted out.

“What the hell do you mean? We all jumped in for you.” His question genuinely bewildered you, eyes drifting back down, concentrating on the task at hand. Wouldn't he do the same for any of you?

“You should have stayed in the boat. Like I told you to.” He chides.

You work to finish covering his wounds, ignoring the sting of his words. Scolding you as if you were a petulant child who didn't listen to their father.

“A thank you would be nice.” Mumbling out as he winced when you tightened it to begin tying it off.

“A thank you?” Scoffing down at you. “Well instead of me dying, now we all might die. Don't you get that? Jesus, Y/N you don't lis— Fuck!” He hissed out.

You made sure to pull the last knot even tighter, effectively cutting off the rest of his little tirade.

“Oops.” You smirked, finally standing and stepping away from him.

You were drenched and cold, suddenly all too aware of your grim situation. You sure as hell didn't need a lecture from him right now after saving his ass.

“Fuck off Steve! We were all trying to save you!” You shouted, leaving the rest of the crew to stare around awkwardly, shifting gazes amongst each other.

“I didn't need to be saved! You should have stayed on the fucking boat!” He yelled back.

“Hey, guys,” Nancy cleared her throat, trying to break the tension between the two of you before it got any worse.

“What?!” Shouting in unison, turning your heads to look over at her.

“Maybe we should get going, yeah? And uh… stay a little quieter?” Her eyes drifted to the treetops overhead, scanning a moment.

You'd both been so fixated on the other, the horrors of the upside down had slipped your minds. She was right, you were trying to avoid attention, not bring it directly on top of you.

“Let's all just calm down and get through this together.” She hummed, satisfied with your nods of agreement taking off ahead of you once more as Robin followed.

Eddie's wide eyes met yours and then Steve's.

“Right, I should, uh…” he said, thumb pointed in their direction. “But uh, here.” Shrugging his vest off before forcefully tossing it toward Steve's chest.

“For your modesty dude.” Smirking before he darted away to follow after the girls.

Steve sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, voice coming out quieter this time but still laced with annoyance.

“C’mon. Just stay close and don't wander off.” Before taking a few steps to catch up to Eddie.

“Don't wander off.” Mocking under your breath, staying a few paces behind, not wanting to be near your ungrateful so-called best friend.

The forest got darker the further you went. It felt like eyes were on you the entire time. You wrap your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling chilled and uneasy, closing the gap between yourself and the boys.

You were close enough now to catch bits and pieces of their hushed conversation, more Eddie talking than not. You knew Steve well enough that he was still brooding about the entire situation. He didn't hate you, quite the opposite. His harsh tone only masks his own worries and fears.

You caught him more than once glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were never too far away.

“Dustin… said I was badass?”

“Oh yeah. Shit. Kid WORSHIPS you, man. Like, you got no idea. It's rather annoying to be honest.”

You smirked at that. Dustin never told Steve anything like that, coming off as an annoying little brother all the time.

“Those ladies jumped in after you and I was too damn ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. Wheeler there, she didn’t waste a second. I mean not a split second. She just dove right in. I don’t know what happened between you two, but… I’d get her back, man. Whatever it takes. ‘Cause that… that was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve stops at Eddie's spiel, looking over his shoulder once more, as you roll your eyes. Of course it was always about Nancy. The one that got away. Not like you tried to dive in first, right? Eddie was too freaked out to notice back there.

Before Steve had the chance to respond the ground began to shake once more, as everyone tried to hang on. You lost your footing, tripping over a stump and thankfully not landing on one of those damn vines, losing sight of everyone behind an overgrown thatch of bushes.

The rumbling slowed to a dull roar just as something caught your eye in a small clearing up ahead, emanating a small bluish-purple glow through the trees ahead. It was faint but while everything in the Upside Down was muted and dull it stuck out like a sore thumb.

As if it was pulling you in, you stumbled forward, quickly righting yourself and heading toward it. It was pulsing slightly; a steady, slow rhythm like a heartbeat.

You stopped at the center of the clearing, as you stepped closer, you realized it was a flower or at least flower shaped. Something akin to a Dahlia back home but it was a glowing azure color, petals almost transparent.

There were a few unopened buds that were also pulsing. The closed pods thumped, not taking notice of the way the pulses quickened as you stepped closer.

Your mind was clouded as you watched them. Beauty in a barren landscape, so mesmerizing you didn't hear Steve calling out for you.

As if on autopilot, your hand began to drift toward it as he jogged up beside you.

“Hey, did you not hear me calling for you? What're y—” He trailed off, feeling helpless watching your fingertips graze the pod as he tried to yank you back, but it was too late.

You were both too close when the thing practically exploded open, releasing a cloud of pearlescent powder into the space between you.

The dust landed on everything in a five-foot radius, as it invaded your lungs causing you both to choke on what you could only think of as its pollen. He grabbed the back of your shirt, dragging you away.

“What the hell was that?” He asked in between coughs and a few sneezes.

“I don't…” before you could properly form a response, screeching could be heard from overhead once more.

“Shit!” He hissed, before shouting back to the others to run for it. The hive mind. Everything was connected down here, it only made sense the flowers were too. The flying bats were back.

You and Steve took off the opposite way that you entered the clearing, dodging vines and low hanging branches in the process. He was trying to slow down so you could keep up.

“C’mon y/n. I think I see a building up ahead!” He shouted.

It was a dilapidated looking cabin, but it would have to do, as he took the steps two at a time reaching the porch with you right behind him.

He barreled through the door, thankful it wasn't locked as you rushed past him, slamming it shut in time to see some of the creatures flying low, unsure if they'd spotted you.

His hands quickly moved to the deadbolt, looking around the small space grabbing a chair, wedging it under the door handle.

You both stood there a moment facing the door, trying to catch your breath as a loud thump echoed overhead as it landed on the roof. It let out an ear-piercing screech that had you covering your ears. Steve hovered his finger over his lips as a shushing motion as a few more thuds and mirrored screeches followed.

He was trying to think, shining the flashlight this way and that, finding an open door near the edge of the kitchen, spotting a set of stairs that were leading down.

He quietly shuffled over to it, shining his beam ahead. It looked like it led to a small basement or at least a root cellar, as he nodded for you to follow as he began his descent.

You sighed, but reluctantly walked over as quietly as possible and trailed behind him, closing the door softly behind you. There was no lock, but it did latch shut.

It was dark, the only light emanating from his flashlight, as he shined it back to the stairs for you to climb down.

“I think we'll be safer down here.” He whispered. “There's a cot over there.” Pointing to the corner.

It was a small room. No other outlet, looking more like a bunker than a cellar. Shelves lined the wall with food and various supplies. At least you were covered if you had to stay a while but hoped it wouldn't come to that.

“Steve,” You began but he immediately cut you off holding his hand up.

“If you hadn't gotten distracted, we wouldn't be in this situation.” His voice is a little louder, but still barely above a whisper.

“It's not my fault Steve, I saw something glowing, like it was pulling me in. You didn't have to fucking follow me!” You knew he was right, but you were feeling attacked.

“Yeah, I did. I'm not leaving anyone behind in this fucking place. Even if you can't follow simple directions.” He huffs, throwing a hand to his hip as he surveyed the room. “Not enough you get us separated, but you have to go and touch that weird ass flower. God knows what the hell that shits going to do to us.”

He was venting more than yelling toward you at this point, frustrated with the entire situation.

“You knew you weren't supposed to touch shit… that hive mind…”

“Steve.”

He continued to mumble over in the corner, with his back turned, throwing his hands around in dramatic fashion.

“But no! You touch it and now we're contaminated…”

“Steve!” Hissing out more forcefully, finally knocking him from his train of thought and little rant.

“What?!” He spun around, throwing the beam from his flashlight directly in your face. “What Y/N?”

You threw a hand up shielding your eyes with a grimace before he quickly lowered it, mumbling an apology.

“Can you just stop pacing? It's not helping anything. You're just giving me a headache.” You grumbled, sitting down on the cot. It slightly squeaked under your newly added weight, as your elbows landed on your knees, bringing your hands to cover your face with a groan.

“You're giving me a headache…” he mumbled slightly under his breath, but you still caught it. He found a small chair in the opposite corner, plopping down with a sigh.

After about ten minutes of total silence, you laid back on the cot, unwilling to give him any more attention. Though he continued to mutter under his breath occasionally, you ignored him.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up. “I'm going to give it a few more minutes and see if they're still on the roof. Maybe we can make a break for Nance’s place and regroup.”

“Yeah, fine.” Huffing a reply with an eye roll.

It was then you noticed a strange tingling on the skin around your neck, kind of like a cold chill. Shaking your head as you sit up, to rub the back of your neck.

“You ok?” He asked, watching intently.

“Fine. Just… a chill.” You shrugged, as he nodded.

Another drawn out silence before either of you attempt to speak.

“Hey, are you… do you feel itchy?” He asked, scratching his exposed shoulder.

“Um, well now that you mention it, yeah. This spot on my neck is itchy.” Your hand absentmindedly reached up, scratching at it again.

“It's that damn flower. I knew it!” He exclaimed, standing up. “Look, we need to see if we can get out of here.”

You watched him carefully retreat up the stairs, his footsteps creaking across the floorboards above your head, stopping for a few moments before making their way back over to the door as he came back into view.

“Ok, looks like we might be here for a while. They're still moving around up there, and when I looked out the window there's a few in the surrounding trees.” He slid back down into the chair, spreading out as much as he could to make himself comfortable.

“Fuck, isn't that just great?” You huffed out, taking your turn to pace the small room. Was it getting hot in here? A bead of sweat rolled down your back. When did it get so muggy?

“Just calm down, we'll get out of here. Okay?” He sounded so sure of himself; you almost believed him.

You sat back down, stretching your legs out onto the cot and finally laying back. The situation was looking bleak, your own mind filling with anxious stress. At least Steve’s here. You don’t have to die alone.

You watched him from the corner of your eye, wiping his brow several times before finally rolling your head toward his direction.

The vest Eddie gave him hung open, revealing his chest, the thick smattering of hair slick and matted down. Was he sweating too? His toned chest moving up and down, a steady rhythm with each breath he took. His head was leaned back on the wall behind him, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

You pulled your lip between your teeth, before letting go as he picked his head up looking at you as if he could feel your eyes on him. You didn't look away, holding his gaze.

“Steve?” You finally asked.

“Yeah?” His eyes shift away from your face, trailing down your body before looking back up as his tongue darted out wetting his parched lips.

“Is it hot in here?” Sitting up, fanning yourself. “I feel like I'm burning up.”

“Yeah… yeah, no. I thought it was just me.” Letting out a sigh. “It could be the close quarters, but I don't think we should go upstairs yet.”

“No, yeah. You're right.” You laid back down, eyes to the ceiling. You could ignore the heat if it meant survival for at least a bit longer.

He turned the light off a little while later, trying to conserve what little battery life it had left.

At some point you drifted off to sleep because you were roused by him touching your arm. It felt like ice touching your flushed skin as you sat straight up trying to catch your bearings.

“Hey! Woah, it's just me.” He soothed, as you flinched away from his unusual cold touch. He pulled his hands back, giving you some space. “I wanted to check on you. I don't think it's hot down here. I think it's us.”

You felt dizzy sitting all the way up, throwing the back of your hand to your forehead. You were on fire. Your nearly dry clothes were sticking to the dampness of your flushed skin, making you cringe. There was also an overwhelming feeling of an unquenchable thirst in the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Steve. I really did it this time.” You folded over yourself, head in your hands, groaning at the way you almost felt drunk or drugged, wondering if he felt as bad as you did.

“No, hey. Look, I'm sorry about earlier. It's not your fault. I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I’m the reason we’re in this situation.” You moved your head to look up at him, willing your bleary eyes to focus. A thin sheen of sweat covered his exposed skin, hair sticking against his forehead. His eyes are what caught your attention the most.

His usual golden flaked, honey hued irises were a mere fraction of a ring around a black abyss. This pollen was affecting him the same, he just had a better poker face but he couldn't control the truth his eyes showed you.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked, as you sat there unblinking.

“Yeah, I…” Shaking your head to look away. “Yeah, no. I don't fucking know right now.”

He shuffled over to one of the shelves looking for some water or anything to help alleviate your symptoms. Pausing for a moment, wondering if anything could be trusted from the Upside Down but there wasn't anything of value he could find in any case.

“Fuck!” He hissed, turning back around.

“Steve, it's ok.” You croaked out. “Just sit down.” You patted the small space beside you on the cot as you scooted over. He hung his head and skirted back over, sitting down carefully trying not to touch you.

_

He didn't want to tell you that while you were sleeping this overwhelming urge started to come over him. An ache low in his belly, and groin. It started out dull but began to grow, radiating through him as a spiked sense of arousal began thrumming through his veins.

Shame began to wash over him. How could he be so turned on at a time like this? A few more minutes passed when he was hit with the most intoxicating scent. It was faint at first. When he took in another heavy exhale it invaded his nostrils and filled his lungs.

He didn't understand where it was coming from, but he felt light, almost high, as he continued to breathe in and out, letting it wash over him. He could only describe it as a familiar, yet exotic thing, wrapping him up in a warm hug. It was almost irresistible, in the way a bakery or candy shop lures you in with promises that, yes it tastes just as good as it smells.

He turned the light back on, shining it toward your still sleeping form, shifting his hooded and heavy eyes over you stretched out on the small cot. There wasn't much skin showing, aside from your exposed arms but then you turned toward him as your shirt rose up slightly, exposing a sliver along your hip that suddenly had him drooling.

He felt his cock stir in his pants, with an ache that was suddenly all consuming. He hadn't realized when he'd gotten up, but he was suddenly standing over you, reaching out, fingertips grazing your arm.

You stirred slightly, as he watched your lips part with a soft breath settling back down.

He placed his palm to your arm, fingers wrapping around your soft, pliable flesh and an instant feeling of relief flooded his senses but then you'd woken, startling him out of this sudden trance.

-

You stretched and yawned beside him, shedding the last bits of slumber from your small nap. You couldn't have been out long, but you were so tired and thirsty.

Had he been awake the whole time? A sudden pang of guilt overtook you at the thought.

“If you need a nap, I'll move so you can take the cot.” Saying as you slowly stood, stiff on unsure legs, as you swayed just a bit plopping back down, your arm brushing his. It was brief but the feeling was cool against the searing heat radiating from you.

“Woah, just take it easy, yeah?” He turned toward you, hands at the ready but just hovering. He didn't trust himself right now.

“How… how are you so cold? Your skin, I mean? I thought you were hot too?”

“I am, look at me. I'm fucking sweating.” He gestured toward himself, a thin sheen of sweat still covering his face and body.

“Can I…” You couldn't get the question out before your hand was already reaching up, suddenly gripping his wrist.

Your brain is flooded with endorphins. A dopamine hit that had you suddenly searching for more. Your eyes closed at the contact, missing the way Steve’s mouth parted slightly releasing a shuddered breath.

As if you had no control of your body, your other hand moved up, planting itself firmly on Steve's chest, eliciting a small whimper from him that made your eyes shoot back open.

“Do you feel that?” You asked, watching his eyes flutter closed. All he could do was nod, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth.

You moved his wrist up, as he opened his hand, already anticipating what you were thinking, as you placed his palm to your chest.

“Oh my God,” it slipped out, almost a moan more than words. His hand immediately soothing the patch of exposed skin that had your eyelids lazily closing once more.

“It feels so good, Steve.” You breathed out.

Your words were doing nothing to quell his ever-growing arousal. He took in a heavy breath and there it was. That overpowering aroma was suddenly surrounding him once more, too heavy to ignore.

It was you.

When you opened your heavy-lidded eyes, the pupils were blown wide, full of lust and desire. Your lips parted slightly, releasing a small exhale you had been holding. All he wanted to do was lean in and press his lips to yours, letting his tongue explore and taste all that you had to offer.

“No.” He hissed out, jumping up and stumbling back, putting a little space between the two of you.

“What? What's wrong?” You asked, mourning the loss of his contact.

“This. This isn't… Jesus!” He whispered out, trying to maintain his composure. “Can't you see what's happening? It's the goddamn flower, that powder. It's making us… whatever this is.” Gesturing between the two of you.

Of course he had an attraction to you. He'd been harboring, what he thought, were unrequited feelings for the better part of two years.

“Yeah, I know, but it feels so good when you touch me, Steve.” Your voice was dripping with seduction, even if you hadn't meant it that way. Your head was getting all fuzzy again, swaying a little.

“Goddamnit, we need to get out of here.” He hissed, wiping his forehead. “I'm checking upstairs again.”

You watched him go, leaning back on the small cot once more.

Aside from the dizziness, there was something stirring just under your skin. An itch you couldn't quite scratch, a buzz or a hum starting at the base of your neck, traveling down your spine sending a sudden spark to your lower abdomen like when you were… Oh God. Your legs closed as if by their own volition when that spark suddenly had your core clenching around nothing just as he descended back down the stairs.

“I think we're almost in the clear. The ones in the trees are gone and… hey, are you okay?” Finally noticing the almost pained expression etched across your face.

“I… I'm… Steve, what the hell is wrong with us?” You sat up quickly, getting to your feet with a gentle sway. He didn't think this time reaching for you.

His touch both soothed and electrified you. Cooling hands on hot skin but an even hotter feeling pooling between your thighs, making a small whimper escape you.

He closed his eyes as your cheek hit his chest. He was trying to think of something, anything else other than the way you felt against him.

You inhaled deeply, his woodsy musk surrounding you entirely. It was illogical. You'd both been in the lake and running through the woods, yet his scent was mouth watering.

“God, Steve, you smell so good.” You murmured, feeling intoxicated, grabbing onto Eddie's vest with clenched fists.

“Yeah, s—so do you.” Dropping his hands to rest on your hips, your head lifting at his admission.

“Yeah?” You asked, almost breathless. He nods, licking his lips, your eyes landing there as your hands slip under the vest smoothing over his chest, the coarse hair tickling your palms as a shiver ran down his spine.

It's like you couldn't stop yourself, stepping closer into his space as his grip on you tightened, pulling you fully into him, your lower stomach meeting his hips.

“Steve?” Asking as you inch forward, calves beginning to strain as you stand on the tips of your toes.

“Yeah?” He asks, holding his breath.

“I really want to kiss you.”

No sooner than the statement left your lips, he surged forward closing the gap.

Parched from the day's activities left his usual plush, soft looking lips chapped and dry but you didn't mind.

An immediate feeling of relief washed over you. It was like finding an oasis in the desert, drinking the taste of him down, briefly quenching that immeasurable thirst.

He tilted his head, bringing his hand to the back of your head, tangling his fingers into your hair as his nose pressed further into your cheek. You worked in tandem until his tongue dared to slip out, silently begging for permission.

You parted your lips with a soft moan as they met, slowly circling and entangling but you were hungry for more. Your hand slid up his chest and wound around the nape of his neck, finding his usual soft strands of hair, dirty and matted, pulling on the ends before pulling him closer, earning you a moan that you eagerly swallowed down.

The hand on your hip traveled south, snaking its way to the fat of your ass, suddenly groping and kneading your pliant flesh through your jeans pushing you further into him. His now very prominent hard cock pressed into the softness of your lower abdomen, taking you by surprise when you felt it twitch between you as he groaned.

At some point the two of you had begun moving, only realizing it when your back hit the far wall, knocking you from your trance. Your lips separated but still momentarily connected by a thin string of saliva as you pant into each other's mouths.

“Fuck, I need you, Steve.” You hissed out, pushing at the shoulders of the denim vest he still wore.

“Wait,” A moment of clarity for him, grabbing your wrists to halt your movements making you pout, as he looked around the dingy, cobweb infested space.

“Shit I— we can't do that down here.”

“Why not?” Asking, as your lower lip jutted out, eyebrows crinkling. The ache in your lower abdomen was getting worse, your clit was throbbing, practically begging for any kind of stimulation.

He shouldn't have looked at you. Your eyes were glossy in the dim light, looking as if tears were about to roll down your cheeks. He wasn't any better off. His cock was throbbing painfully against his pants, a wet patch of precum visible where his head laid.

“Goddamnit!” He hissed, pausing for a deep breath, tilting his head toward the ceiling. “Because I don't want the first time with you to be on a filthy basement cot in the upside down!”

You couldn't help the grin that lifted the edges of your lips into a smirk, as you continued to stare at his bared throat. Wondering for a moment what it would be like to sink your teeth into him. This deep primal hunger was overpowering your senses, overtaking any other basic needs.

“Fuck me upstairs then.” You blurted out.

“Wh—what?” As if he'd misheard you, whipping his head back down.

“I said,” leaning closer to him. “Fuck. Me. Upstairs. There's a bed up there.” You nip at his nose and giggle when he pulls back, grip moving, holding firm to your shoulders.

When it disbursed, you had taken the brunt of the pollen, if you could even call it that, apparently it was affecting you more severely, unable to concentrate on anything else for more than a few seconds at a time.

“We can't— you— don't know what you're saying, and those things are still up there.”

“Stevie, please?” Your voice drips with desire, sultry and sweet. Looking up at him with your best doe eyes had all manner of his resolve quickly fading.

“I can be quiet. I promise.” You whispered with a pout, as your fingertips dance along his exposed chest. “What're friends for, Stevie? We need to help each other out.”

“Fuck,” he groans, slipping his hand into yours, turning without saying another word to grab the flashlight pulling you along. He wasn't going to be able to hold out, suddenly driven by the unwavering need in his pants, it seemed better to give in to your advances than try to fight them. Your sweet tone, seemingly needing him just as much as he needs you, he couldn't resist.

His mind was flooded with the vivid image of how your tight cunt would feel wrapped around his shaft, he quickly ascended the stairs looking back once holding his finger to his lips when he reached the door, easing it open. The rush of cooler air hit you as soon as the door opened for a small reprieve.

“I'm going to check out the windows, go down the hall. Quietly.” Nodding toward the right. “The first door on the left has a bed and no windows.”

You nod your understanding as he lets go of your hand, letting you go your separate ways. Tiptoeing down the hall, it was quiet, aside from the errant clap of thunder that echoed through the walls every thirty seconds or so.

The room had been exactly where he had explained. It seemed small, but the only light filtered in from the hall, illuminating only a portion of the bed. As your eyes adjusted, the bed came more into view, a little dusty but bigger than the cot downstairs.

You threw the quilt back, revealing surprisingly pristine sheets underneath. You decided to discard your muddy, lake soaked shoes as he came into view.

He had turned his light off, a silhouette of broad shoulders illuminated against a dusky red backdrop as another bolt of lightning split the sky outside. He stood there lingering in the doorway, eyes briefly running over your form. Your breath hitched in your throat drinking him in when he finally took a few steps forward.

He stood before you without saying a word, quickly finding your hips and wasting no time pulling you flush against him once more as you let out a small squeak of surprise bracing yourself against his chest.

“Steve, I—”

You were quickly cut off when he sealed his lips over yours. His intoxicating scent once again surrounded you as your brain began to shut off, driven only by your primal desires.

Your hand trailed down his abdomen, fingertips grazing his bandages finding the exposed skin low by his waistband. He shuddered at your soft, lingering touch. Going lower still, he hisses and pulls back from your kiss as you palm at his erection over his pants.

It felt like you were on autopilot. The only thought in the forefront of your mind was the overpowering need for relief. The need to be as close as possible.

He was taken by surprise when you grabbed the lapels of his vest and quickly pulled him around. The back of his knees hit the bed, as he fell rather ungracefully.

The springs groaned under the sudden pressure of his added weight as he let out a grunt, uttering a “shit,” under his breath.

You quickly straddled his legs, giving him no time for protest, crawling up and sitting flush on his bulge trying to be mindful of those raw wounds fresh on his sides.

A chorus of expletives left both of your lips the moment your hips grind down searching for friction with your hands pressing firmly to his chest holding him in place. Your aching clit gets some relief, the stiff denim pressing into you sliding down the rigid length of him and back up. A fresh wave of arousal flooding from your core adding to your already ruined panties.

In any other circumstances, you would feel embarrassed rutting up against your best friend like a wild animal in heat, but seeking out and taking what you needed was first and foremost.

You leaned forward, burying your face in his neck, breathing him in.

“I could eat you up.” You whisper, lips grazing just below his ear, teeth nipping at his sensitive skin before your tongue rolls out, languidly licking at his jugular, his pulse thumping wildly against your muscle.

You whine, relishing the salty, earthy and coppery mixture as it settles along your taste buds, feeling him shutter beneath you taking a ragged breath only adding to your desire.

His hands find the plush of your hips, pulling you down to meet an upward thrust that has you leaning back up and moaning out without any regard for his earlier warnings and your promise.

His eyes shot up to you, barely illuminated in the dim light but you were a sight to see.

Your head is thrown back as if you were already in the throes of heady pleasure. Your mouth hung open slightly, another breathy wine escaping as you dragged your hips against his cock once more. Any and all of what was left of his will power was gone. His imagination ran rampant with the thought of you coming undone, falling apart only for him.

In one swift motion, he bucked his hips, gaining momentum to flip you over. Your back hits the mattress, making you gasp sharply as he seated himself between your parted thighs.

Your eyes go wide with surprise when his hand quickly shoots to your mouth, his large palm stifling your sounds.

Leaning further into your space, his lips ghost the shell of your ear as he spoke.

“I'm going to give you what you want but you've got to be quiet. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, fisting the vest in your hands, letting out a small whimper as he slowly took his hand away.

“Use your words, honey.” He scolded.

“Yes, I– I can be quiet.” You breathed out, beginning to feel faint.

“Good girl.” He purred, his words sending your mind into overdrive.

You pawed at his chest, pushing the denim at his shoulders. He sat up, finally pulling it free from his body and tossing it across the room. Your hands roam across the expanse of his chest and broad shoulders.

He reached the hem of your shirt, fingers skirting up your tummy, cool fingertips sending goosebumps across your flesh. You nodded as his eyes caught yours before he quickly pulled it over your head.

He sucked in a sharp breath, watching intently as your chest rose, pushing your breasts against the cups of your bra with each steady inhale, threatening to spill out all on their own before you reached behind, deftly unclasping it and lifting it away.

“Fuck, honey.” His eyes go dark, one of his large hands immediately finding its way to your soft skin. His calloused palm engulfing you as he kneads timidly, at first. You keen into his touch, arching upward, searching for more.

His mouth meets your pert nipple on the other side, swirling his tongue and roughly squeezing the breast under his palm. He nips at the taut bud as if testing the waters, teeth grazing before applying more pressure and immediately soothing the mild sting, laving the wet muscle back across your skin.

To keep from crying out, you bite down on your lip, whimpering as his touch sends shockwaves of pleasure down your body, shooting straight to your core.

He pulls off of you with an audible pop, eyes darting to your face when he feels you trying to push his pants down.

“Please, Steve. I need you! I can't wait.” You hiss out, still trying to maintain a whisper but the longer this keeps getting drawn out the more desperate you become, aching to be filled. An ache that was growing so strong it was boarding on painful.

Dipping your way past his waistband just a moment later, he shudders when your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft, wrapping your hand around his girthy cock.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes out, ducking his head into the crook of your neck, trying to muffle his own sounds as you stroke up and back down at an agonizingly slow pace.

Your thumb finds his head, a steady stream of precum already leaking from the tip, swirling your digit in the mess was almost too much as he sinks his teeth into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

Your mouth fell agape with a silent gasp, a cry caught in your throat as your other hand flew to the back of his head, fingers digging into his locks and tugging harshly. He quickly unhinges his jaw, peppering kisses where his teeth had just been.

“M’sorry,” he mumbles out, pulling back and swatting your hands away from his pants as he sits up.

Your thighs go slack, as he blindly pops the button on your jeans, pulling the zipper down harshly, digging into the denim waistband before you lift your hips aiding in him hastily tugging them and your panties down your legs.

He tosses them somewhere behind him, before standing up and shedding his own pants and boxers, letting them unceremoniously pool at his feet.

Your eyes quickly rove over as much of his naked body as the dim lighting would allow, licking your lips. His cock was standing at full attention, curved slightly upward as he wrapped his own hand around it, pumping it lightly a few times.

His knees find the mattress, planting his hands on your thighs, spreading them apart to accommodate his frame.

Pausing a moment to appreciate the site before him, his fingertips trail the inside of your thigh, inching closer to where you yearn for him the most. You let out a small yelp of surprise when he tightened his grip and pulled you toward him.

“Steve,” you plead, as he ghosts over your slick lips, his thumb and forefinger spread you apart with a sticky release before he finally presses his thumb pad down onto your puffy clit making your hips buck up.

Sensing your urgent need, his finger begins to tease your aching hole, your arousal drips out, as he finally dips in, your hips rising up in time to push his digit further in.

Your head falls back into the pillow, the hand at your hip pushes you flush against the mattress holding you there as he pumps in and out of your tight pussy, quickly adding a second finger to help stretch you out.

“I can smell your needy cunt.” He hisses, practically salivating. Both of your pheromones were in overdrive, your scent wafting through the air like honey, luring him in. A feast begging to be devoured. “I bet you taste just as sweet.”

His words mixed with his current ministrations left you teetering on the edge, his digits stroke up, finding that sweet spot along your frontal wall and just when you were about to fall apart, it suddenly disappeared. Feeling as though it was subdued by some unseen force, leaving you whimpering and unsatisfied, as tears spring to your eyes in frustration.

“Steve, I— it's not working, I need more.” You huff out. It was then you noticed he was fisting his cock, searching for his own release alongside you.

“Fuck, yeah, okay.” He let out a little breathless. “It's not working f’me either.”

You immediately mourn the loss as his fingers slip from you before he promptly shoves them past his lips, humming around the taste, the potent elixir bursting on contact with his taste buds flooding his senses, igniting his insatiable hunger even further.

“Jesus Christ, I fuckin’ knew it.” His pupils dilate, high on the taste of you, a drug he suddenly realized he'll never be able to fully detox from.

He grips the base of his cock with one hand, leaning over and lining himself up with your soaked entrance, pressing the tip in, feeling your gummy walls start to mold around him, as your hands fly up to grip his shoulders.

“Please.” It was a breathy thing, as your muscles instinctually constricted around the welcome intrusion.

He groans, unable to hold himself back any further, snapping his hips and burying himself in one fluid motion. Your pussy gives little resistance between how wet you are and the unrelenting desire to be completely filled.

“Oh God!” Biting back another loud moan being ripped from your chest, digging your teeth into your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood this time, as his thick cock splits you open.

There was a slight burn, as he sat snugly inside your tight channel that quickly gave way to overwhelming pleasure when he pulled back, withdrawing almost completely leaving just his leaking tip before plunging back in, somehow feeling deeper than before.

You muffle your cries the best you can, as he begins to set a near brutal pace. Every thrust pulling little ah, ah, ahs past your lips as your legs tighten around his waist, heels digging into the fat of his ass pushing him further into you.

He hisses and stills when your legs gripping a little too tight, pull his focus from fucking you to the searing pain at his sides. The wounds had been forgotten from the pure ecstasy he was feeling.

“Shit, I'm sorry.” It was enough to knock you from your lust fueled haze momentarily as he pulled out.

“Flip over.” He grunts.

“Wha—” A sharp smack to the side of your thigh has the words dying on your tongue with a gasp.

“Flip. Over.” Repeating himself a little more forcefully. The soft boy next door being replaced with a rougher version, that suddenly had your pussy clenching around nothing at his harsh demeanor.

You rolled onto your stomach, as his hands came to grip your hips with a bruising force, pulling your ass up.

He wastes no time shoving his throbbing length back between your glistening lips, bumping your clit once before slowly guiding his ruddy tip past your entrance, as your cunt flutters around him practically sucking him in.

He's trying to contain his grunts to a minimum, when your noises start to fill the air he brings his palm down hard against your ass, making you jerk away, burying your face in the sheets below with a whine.

“Giving you exactly what you want, and you still can't keep that pretty mouth shut?” He hisses, grinding his hips slowly, to properly scold you. “Feels too good, huh, honey?”

You merely mewl and nod, before another smack echoes around the room, his palm smoothing soothingly over your reddened cheek.

“I asked you a question, honey.” His voice is lazy, dripping sugary sweet condescension.

“Yes, Steve, mmph— it— you feel so, so good.” Finally able to mumble out a coherent sentence.

He smirks, letting a hand slide down the length of your spine, fingers coming up to tangle in the hair at the back of your head before hauling you up, back flush against his sweaty chest.

Winding his arm around your midsection, the other detangles from your hair to cover your mouth as he places a soft kiss to your temple before his hips snap harshly, the new angle making you cry out, but it's muffled with his palm securely placed over your lips.

“Gotta be quiet, remember honey?” He huffs, breath hot against your neck, unrelenting in his conquest to see your demise.

You grip his forearm, nails digging crescents into his skin, hanging on for dear life. Each outward stroke and upward thrust, punching the air from your lungs as your eyes roll back, suddenly careening you toward the edge of oblivion.

His hand helps stifle your moans, blunt fingertips digging into the apple of your cheek, but you can't help the involuntary sounds that continue to slip out.

“Fuck, y—you feel good.” He stutters out, right in your ear. “Pussy feels like it was made f’me. Mmmm. Gripping me so fuckin' tight.”

The hand around your waist starts drifting south, coming to caress your mound momentarily before delving between your folds finding your puffy, neglected clit with expert ease, drawing swift circles against you causing your cunt to constrict around him sending another wave of arousal flooding out, soaking his balls and dripping down your thighs.

“That's it, honey. I promise we'll get there this time.” His cocky demeanor was doing it for you. You'd never seen this side of Steve, taking control, fucking you better than anyone ever had.

“You're going to cum on my cock while I stuff this cunt full.” You whined out at his words, high pitched against his palm. “That's what you want, huh? Fill you up and make it stick? F—fuck I think I'm close.”

You try to nod, letting him know you were too.

The heat that had been simmering for the last hour in your abdomen was finally reaching a boiling point. Pressure was building, as he continued to pound into you, his cock hitting at just the right angle.

Your grip on his forearm tightened, fingernails beginning to draw blood, but he didn't show any signs of distress, never ceasing his movements solely focused on you and the way you felt around him.

You close your eyes, as the flames begin to lick up your spine, spreading further and growing hotter. It was an all-consuming pleasure, your cunt begging for release, begging for his release.

Whatever this pollen had done to the both of you, it was clear it had a driving force with one thing in mind. Procreation. Unsatisfied and unsatiated until you were bursting full of his life giving fluid.

You're finally able to pry his hand away from you to let out one more breathy plea.

“Cum in me, Steve. I— I can't cum, I need you.” Your voice was low and raspy, but he heard you loud and clear.

He fully removed his hand, suddenly pushing you forward. Too weak to fight, your body fell onto the mattress with a small groan as he quickly withdrew himself and manhandled you around to lay on your back.

No matter what this pollen had done to him. He was still Steve deep down and he could never imagine not looking at your beautiful face as you fell apart for the first time. All for him.

He slips off the bed momentarily, picking something up from the floor before crawling back between your legs.

“I'm sorry, honey. You can't stay quiet.” He whispers.

“Wh—,” your question was cut off when he stuffs your filthy panties past your lips for a makeshift gag, kissing your forehead before grabbing the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half.

His palms push you down and hold your thighs open for him as he ruts his cock up through your folds, the tip grazing your clit before catching at your entrance. His head tips down to watch himself slowly disappear into your tight heat.

Your head flies back, feeling every ridge and vein upon his deliberate reentrance, fisting the sheets beneath you as muffled cries echo across the room. He pauses to take delight in the way your face is screwed up with pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt, suddenly wishing he could hear all the pretty sounds you were making unhindered.

He starts to move again, eyes drifting back down to where the two of you connected to watch himself plunge in and out of your soaked pussy, seemingly mesmerized by the way your greedy hole takes him so well but he tears his eyes away when he hears a pained whimper from you, pausing to search your face.

Your eyes were closed, tears flowing down the side of your face, feeling anything but pain as you looked up at him, eyes glazed over, begging him to continue.

Suddenly twitching at the thought of his impending release, he grinds his hips back into yours. The wiry thatch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit just right, wrenching another moan from you as you nod at him to keep going.

He starts to thrust again but can tell he's close as his balls begin to draw up, and lower stomach tightens. Skin to skin doesn't seem to be enough when there's a sudden overwhelming need to be closer. He wants to crawl under your skin and embed himself there.

He releases the hold on your legs, letting them ease back to the bed as he drapes himself over you, caging you in. The hair on his chest grazes your nipples with each thrust only adding to your sensations as your hands find purchase on his back.

Holding himself up on one elbow his palm finds your breast, pressing and kneading before his mouth finds the other, sucking a little harshly leaving the top of your chest with a dark reminder as your body arches upward, craving more. His tongue moves over your pebbled nipple before he latches on.

It suddenly feels like he's everywhere all at once. Hands roaming, mouth hot as his cock continues to carve its way into your guts.

He pops off momentarily, sensing a shift in you because he can feel it too.

“You gonna cum with me, honey?” You look up into his eyes, a black abyss. The familiar hazel irises are nowhere to be found. Your best friend now hell bent on ruining you for any other man.

You nod, with a muffled “mmhmm” hoping to God you can finally crest over the precipice.

“Wrap your legs around me.” He hums, hiking your thigh up his hip. Your brows marry with confusion because of the day's earlier blunder.

“It's ok.” He soothes your worry away, large hand gripping your ass as he continues to grind down.

You do as he says, wrapping them around his torso, locking your ankles at the base of his spine. He winces only once before focusing all his concentration on pumping in and out, in and out. Making sure to tilt his pelvis on the upward thrust, simultaneously stimulating that spot deep within you and brushing your clit.

This was it. Fading embers reignited as flames slowly fanned across your lower abdomen. Your brain is all but mush, yearning for a release that only he can provide.

“I'm close.” He hisses out with a grunt, burying his head into your neck. His breath fans hot across you as he starts to whine and mutter. “M’gonna fill this pussy full. F–fuck my goddamn load so far into you. Mmpmh, is that– that’s what you want?”

A few more erratic thrusts before he pushes in so deep that his head is kissing the crown of your cervix. Your walls clamp down around him, holding him in place before his cock twitches and begins to spurt his release into your greedy womb.

Your body reacts suddenly, hot white heat floods your core with the hardest orgasm you've ever experienced. Everything around you seems to fade, as a blinding white light bursts behind your eyelids. Your cunt spasms around him, milking everything he had to give, he groans almost painfully but the sound seems so far away. If you weren't lying underneath him you would have sworn you could float away.

Your chests heave against one another as his body goes limp, crushing you in the best possible way. The lust fueled haze was extinguished with your release, leaving you tired and spent.

His softening dick kicks up a few more times making you whimper as your legs and arms fall away from him, utterly and completely exhausted.

You're pulled out of your blissful afterglow when he pulls your panties from your mouth. Humming as you close your mouth, dry and parched, smacking your lips together softly.

You still had your eyes closed, as his hand comes tp to caress your jaw, thumb running tenderly across the apple of your cheek as you both came down from your highs.

“You ok?” He asked timidly, as you nod with a “mmhmm.”

“I didn't hurt you, did I?” The sweet, caring best friend returning to his senses, as you reply a low “no.”

“Good.” He whispers back, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth.

“Steve?” Managing to croak out, voice hoarse and rough.

“Hmmnh?” He manages, eyes fixated where the two of you were still connected, finally pulling his softening cock free, your mixed fluids flooding from your spent hole. He had the urge to shove it back in, but stopped himself.

“I was going to jump in first,” you whispered out, as his head shot up to look at you. You were completely dazed, on the verge of sleep.

“What?” He asked, easing himself back, eyes roving over your body littered with bruises and bitemarks. Proof that he hadn't experienced some sort of upside down drug induced hallucination.

“The lake.” You hummed. “Robin stopped me.” Yawning before continuing. “I would've jumped in first.”

“Yeah?” He asks, smiling softly to himself, easing beside you, brushing the loose strands of hair from your face. Spending a few more minutes tangled up in you, before the weight of reality would inevitably come crashing back down.

“Mmhmm. I'd go anywhere with you.” You confess, wrapping your arms around his middle as he pulls you into his chest. If he's being completely honest with himself, he's been in love with you for years. He would've jumped in head first if the tables were turned, he just didn't want anything to happen to you.

“I know, honey. I'd—,” a loud banging at the front door startling you both from your daydream, as he rose up ready for anything.

He hurried to get his clothes back on, throwing your bra and shirt up to you as he walked out into the hall leaving you to get dressed.

He could hear muffled voices behind the door. Your friends had circled back to find you.

Everyone stopped talking as soon as he threw open the door looking a little worse for wear.

“Oh thank God!” Robin was the first to speak, reaching out and grabbing his shoulders. “What the hell happened to you?”

“We're fine Rob,” Stepping back and letting them enter the small space, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “The bats chased us here, stuck around a while but we're fine.”

They were all chatting when you finally walked into the room clearing your throat as everyone whipped their heads around, eyes all going a little wide at your appearance.

Robin's gaze flitted your neck, as she sent you a knowing look, raising her eyebrows causing you to pull the collar of your shirt over the exposed skin as your cheeks heated.

“Seriously?!” She smacked Steve's arm, looking wide eyed back to him. “Down here? I mean, it's about time. You've only been dying to confess your feelings for wh—”

“Robin!” He hissed out, cutting off her rambling. “Stop!”

She slapped her hand over her mouth, looking over to your confused expression.

“Can uh, you guys give us a minute?” He asked, hands falling to his hips, as they all looked between each other before heading back out the door. Robin mouthed a “sorry” your way, shutting the door behind her.

“Feelings, huh?” Toeing at a small rock on the floor instead of meeting his gaze.

“Fuck. Well, yeah. It's you. How could I not?” He sighed. “But, we seriously don't ever have to talk about this again. Pretend it never happened and feelings aside, you're still my best friend.”

“What if I don't want to forget?” You bit the inside of your lip as your mouth curled into a shy grin. “And…” Taking a step toward him. “What if I told you I had feelings for you too?”

“Yeah?” He asked, reaching out to haul you in close, as you took another step.

“Yeah.” Your hands taking hold of Eddie's vest, curling into his chest. “And, once we get out of here, maybe we can try all of this again?” His face lit up, as you smiled at him. “Without the raging, horny sex pollen?”

You both huffed a laugh, relaxing into each other.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that.” He nods, excitement blooming in his chest.

“C’mon handsome, let's get out of here.” Your hand found his, sending him a small giggle as you pulled him toward the door to rejoin your friends.

Despite the dismal cloud looming above he had a feeling that everything would work out this time.

Tagging a few mooties that might be interested (and please let me know if you don't want to be tagged!): @thecreelhouse @teen--marvel @bunnyhargrove @xxbimbobunnyxx

And also: @crybabyddl (since you asked!) 🙂

[radioactiveparker]

A Proposition To Make Amends - Steddie X Fem!Reader (Smut)

Summary - Your boyfriend Steve does whatever it takes for you to get along with his best friend.

Warnings - Strong Language / Use of Y/N / Alcohol / Mentions of Drunk Driving / Threesome / Rough / Unprotected Sex / Spanking / Dry Humping / Riding / Daddy Kink / Praise Kink / Spitting / Choking / Oral (M & F Receiving) / Spit Roasting / Multiple Orgasms / Multiple Creampies / Cum Play / Cum Eating / Subspace

Word Count - 5.6k

A/N - Inspired by that one audio I was never able to find again :'(

~~~~~

You hid your fatigue behind a big cheesy smile as you and Steve bid the last of your guests goodbye and good night, waving at them from the front door of your home as they drove off down the road. The second the door shut, you relaxed your sore cheeks with a liberated sigh. Steve chuckled, pulling you in for a much needed hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in as close as he could. You pressed your lips to his out of habit.

Despite the many years that you and Steve had been together, you still got butterflies every time you kissed. It was like there was a button on your lips that only Steve could activate that shot a rush of adrenaline through your body. It was only meant to be a quick peck on the lips, but you couldn't seem to pull away. Your lips melded together like fluffy marshmallows in a freshly brewed hot chocolate. His tongue was warm sugar, sweet and addicting, making your eyes roll back under closed lids. You moaned gently into his mouth, clasping your hands behind his neck and playing with his soft hair. It was his turn to moan when you gave it a gentle tug, feeling his half hard on beginning to grow against your hip.

"Am I interrupting something?"

The two of you pulled back abruptly. Eddie stood before you, trying to take another sip of his beer through a smirk. In all honesty, you thought that Eddie had left already, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking. You were ready to kick him out so that you and Steve could continue where you had left off.

"Yes, you are." You snapped bitterly.

"You leaving?" Steve asked, clasping his hand in Eddie's and giving him a side hug.

"Yeah, the boys want to get band practice in early tomorrow."

"Good luck with it, man." Steve patted him on the back and opened the door for him. He froze when he noticed Eddie's van in the driveway. "Wait, you're not driving, are you?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Dude, you've been drinking."

"Only like three beers." Eddie brushed him off, using a strong arm to push his empty beer bottle into Steve's hand. "I'll be fine it's like a ten minute drive."

"No way, man. I'm not having you driving under the influence. Why don't you just stay the night?"

You diverted your gaze from Eddie's arms, suddenly catching yourself staring at his muscles in his tank top. "Or he could just call a cab?" You chimed in. The last thing you wanted right now was Eddie here. Especially when Steve had got you all hot and bothered.

"He's got no chance of getting a cab this late. C'mon babe, it's just one night."

But it wasn't just one night. You couldn't seem to get rid of Eddie lately. He was always hanging out at your place or asking Steve to go down to the Hideout to watch his band play (which he would always drag you along to despite your protests) or calling him up to talk for hours. You knew they were best friends, but you didn't even see your girl-friends that much. If it was anyone else, you probably wouldn't have minded. But Eddie annoyed you to no end. He was always loud and such a slob, always talking about the girls he's hooked up with and the music that nobody but him liked. You honestly didn't know how Steve could stand the guy.

"But Steve..." You tried to tell him through your eyes the words you couldn't say out loud. Not with Eddie there.

I want you to dick me down until I can't walk.

"Please babe," he clearly didn't get the message, "for me?"

He could be so oblivious when he wanted to be.

You rolled your eyes with a reluctant sigh, not being able to resist his big brown puppy dog eyes. "Fine, but he's taking the couch."

He shut the door and grabbed your face to force you into an appreciative kiss that went straight to your core. You loved it when he got rough.

"No man, really, it's fine." Eddie tried to persuade. "I can drive."

The truth was, Eddie didn't like you either. He had been friends with Steve first, but then you came along and ruined what they had going. Suddenly Steve was too busy to go to Hellfire night, he couldn't watch his band practice. Heck, he couldn't even make the time to go get ice cream together. And you were far too clingy. Every time he invited just Steve to the hideout, you were always there with him to ruin Eddie's mood. And always wearing those skimpy little outfits that left nothing to the imagination.

Not that he was imagining you.

"No, Eddie, you heard the lady, you're staying." Steve guided Eddie back into the house.

He turned to you, trying not to smile at how cute you looked when you were annoyed and pressed a loving kiss to your lips in an attempt to subdue it. "Why don't you go get changed while me and Eddie clear this mess up."

You agreed, only if it meant that you got another kiss from him. He chuckled against your lips before giving your ass a playful smack when you turned and headed for the bedroom.

"Is that why you wanted me to stay? So I could help you clean up?" Eddie teased walking through your open plan living room and into the kitchen to grab a garbage bag.

Steve held his hands up in defence. "You got me, man."

They shared a laugh before beginning to clean. You and Steve had planned a little get-together for all of your friends. You found it so hard nowadays to all be together like you used to, so everyone managed to free up a weekend and spend it together. Even the kids had managed to come down from college to see you. It was one of the best nights you had had in a while, catching up, eating pizza, drinking beer, and watching movies. It had felt like nothing had changed.

You managed to reminisce about the night as you swapped your party clothes for your pyjamas. With the summer heat easing its way in, it was difficult to wear anything more than a pair of shorts and a tank top. You even had to ditch the bra because the heat was making you itch.

You grabbed your used clothes and made your way downstairs to put them in the laundry room, deciding to do the washing tomorrow. With an overheated sigh, you headed for the kitchen to find some way to cool off. You passed the boys on the way as they carefully deconstructed the beer bottle tower Dustin and Lucas had so proudly made.

Eddie watched you from the living room as you made your way to the fridge wearing the sluttiest pyjamas he had ever seen. The shorts barely covered your backside and the top was so tight that he could see your nipples through it when you opened the fridge.

You visibly relaxed from the coolness emanating from it, practically moaning in relief.

"You alright over there, babe?" Steve laughed, putting the final beer bottle in the bag.

"Yeah, you boys want a drink to cool down?"

With a small chorus of agreements, you grabbed three bottles from the back of the fridge, pressing one of them against your forehead as you walked into the living room. You placed the other two on the coffee table in front of Eddie and Steve. They sat on opposite ends of the couch, Steve with his feet kicked up on the table and Eddie with his muscular arms spread over the headrest, giving you no choice but to sit between them. You did not want to sit near Eddie.

Reluctantly you took the single seat on the side closest to Steve, curling your feet up and twisting the cap off your drink.

"Do we smell bad or something? What are you doing all the way over there, babe?" Steve joked, patting the spot on the sofa beside him.

You kept your eyes on the TV, not being able to look him in the eye when you lied to him. "No, it's just too hot to all be crowed on one sofa."

"Now I know from experience that it's never to hot for a cuddle."

You wanted to curse yourself for making up that stupid rule. Whether it was because of the hot weather, or a steamy bath, you always cuddled Steve. You didn't care that you were sticky and sweating, you just loved the feeling of Steve's arms wrapped around you.

"I'm sure Eddie won't mind. Right, Eddie?"

"Actually I wouldn't mind if she stayed over there." Eddie disregarded, taking a long swig of his beer.

He watched as you did the same. A droplet from your bottle splashed onto the soft flesh of your collar bone. He couldn't help but stare as it rolled steadily and slipped in between the valley of your breasts.

Steve stood from his seat on the couch, switched the TV off and stood in front of it so that he was the centre of attention. "Alright, what is up with you guys?"

You and Eddie stared at him blankly as he looked between the two of you, waiting expectantly for an answer.

"What do you mean?" Eddie asked dumbly. You had to fight against rolling your eyes at how obvious his tone was.

"Why are you guys so tense around each other all the time? Don't think I don't see the way you roll your eyes at each other, or the petty little argument you're always having. Why do you guys hate each other so much, huh?"

You sighed, sitting up straight and placing your beer on the coffee table. "It's not that I hate him, It's just that... it's like he's always there. And he's annoying."

"I'm not annoying." Eddie frowned, clearly offended.

"Yes you are, and you're such a slob. Every time you come over here I'm cleaning up after you."

Eddie scoffed in perplexity. He had literally just helped clean the living room for you. "Well, if I'm a slob, you're a slut."

"Excuse me?"

"Whoa man, that's too far."

"I mean, just look at her Steve. She's practically naked. She's always wearing skimpy fucking clothes. She's just begging for attention"

"Dude, you can't just hate someone because of what they wear-- don't you start laughing, Y/N."

"He's got no real reason to hate me." You snickered. "At least I said something."

"Can we just act like adults please?"

Eddie pouted. "I will if she will, but I wouldn't hold you're breath."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Alright, guys stop!" Steve raised his voice. He had never spoken to you that way. You hated that it kind of turned you on. "What is it going to take for you to get over whatever rivalry you two have got going on, huh? A rage room? Therapy? Do you need to bang one out or something?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa."

"Absolutely not, besides he's one to talk. Calling me a slut? He's the one that's forever boasting about his hook ups."

"Hey, I don't boast, okay? And my sex life had nothing to do with you."

Steve began laughing in disbelief. "I can't believe that that is what this is about?"

"What what is about?"

"That you two need to just fuck already." Steve expressed like the brightest lightbulb was blazing over his head. "All this fighting because you two are attracted to each other."

"I am not attracted to him." You gasped. "Do you think I'm cheating on you?"

"What? No, babe I'm not accusing you of that. I'm just saying that I understand if you're attracted to him."

"Yeah, I'm not attracted to you're girlfriend, dude." Eddie flushed.

"I wouldn't blame you, man. I mean, look at her, she's hot." It was your turn to flush. "So how are we gonna do this then?"

"Do what?"

"Have you two get it out of your systems."

"Dude, I'm not fucking your girlfriend."

"At least we finally agree on something." You laughed. Never in your life did you think you would be saying that.

"Look, baby," Steve sat on the coffee table and took your hands in his, making you look him in the eye. "Eddie's my best friend, and you're my best girl. I don't want to see you fighting all the time. Please, just for me, just this once."

Those god damn puppy dog eyes. You couldn't believe that you were actually considering this. You shifted uncomfortably to ease the throbbing between your legs. It had been a while since You and Steve had had sex, especially with Eddie being around all the time. Your dry spell was making you feel like a bitch in heat, so desperate to feel something. Anything. You blamed your horniness for clouding your judgement.

You sighed in defeat. "Are you sure you're okay with this?"

"You have my blessing." His smile turned to a smirk, his tone lowered to the rasp he always used in the bedroom. "Besides, it could be kinda hot."

There it was again. That burning desire deep within your core. The feeling hadn't really gone away. You almost always had a smouldering passion for him, but he managed to reignite it with a snap of his fingers. Steve couldn't help but smile at the fucked out look on your face; eyelids heavy with desperation and lips parted, just begging for something to slip between them.

"You see that Eddie? She wants to fuck you."

Eddie couldn't stop the feeling stirring within him. The look on your face and the way your nipples perked through your shirt had him squeezing his legs together like a fucking teenager. Try as he may, he couldn't deny that you were hot.

"I swear to God Steve, If this is a fucking prank--"

"It's not." You assured him, standing from your seat and making yourself comfortable on his lap.

You straddled him, resting your hands on his shoulders before calling Steve to sit beside him. Eddie stared at you in confusion when you pulled Steve in for a kiss, suddenly feeling like a third wheel. He felt like a perv watching your tongues swirl along one another and the way you would suck on Steve's like it was a cock. Just when he was about to call it quits, you slowly began rolling your hips. Eddie couldn't help but groan at the sweet relief, resting his head on the back of the sofa and enjoying the view. You moaned as Eddie grew harder beneath you, giving you more friction on your aching clit. You pulled away from Steve, putting your full attention into grinding on Eddie.

"Fuck, that feels good."

"You wanna take your shirt off, baby? Show him those perfect tits?"

You nodded drunkenly, raising your arms above your head so Steve could pull your top off. Eddie groaned almost instantly at the sight of them. He cupped one tenderly, feeling the flesh burning beneath his touch. He sat forward pressing harsh kisses along your neck and traveling down until he reached your breast. He sucked your pebbled nipple into his mouth, lapping it up and teasing it with his teeth. You gasped at the feeling, even more so when Steve mirrored his actions, first painting hickeys along your neck until he popped your other nipple in his hot mouth. You cupped the back of both their heads, guiding them with your movements as you continued to rock your hips against Eddie's.

"Shit, I'm gonna need you to fuck me." Eddie strained with a bruising grip on your hips.

"You hear how desperate you've got him, baby?"

You moaned against Steve's lips again as he kissed you. Eddie paused your grinding so he could slip off his boxers and pants. His weeping cock sprang free, the tip crying in relief. You ogled at it's perfection. It was a similar size to Steve's (that's to say huge), but with much more girth. You worried for a moment that Eddie could ruin Steve for you, but your mouth was just filling with saliva staring at it. You needed it inside of you.

"Wow, look at that, baby." Steve cooed in your ear, standing behind you and kissing your neck. "Is that what you wanted, huh? You want Eddie's fat cock deep inside your sweet little pussy?"

"God, yes." You breathed.

"You gonna take those shorts off then? Show Eddie your pretty little cunt."

You expertly took your shorts and panties off while still remaining in Eddies lap, having had lots of practice with Steve. With your pussy free from it's confinements, it was free to drool all over Eddies cock. You swiped your folds along his shaft, spreading your juices so you were ready to take him.

You twisted your neck to look at Steve. "Will you help me, daddy?"

His eyes rolled into his skull at the name. "Of course I can, baby. Ready?"

You lined the tip of Eddie's cock to your entrance, letting Steve guide your hips with his hands. He manoeuvred your hips downward, letting Eddie's cock ease into you. You gasped at the intrusion, finding yourself falling forwards. You grasped the head rest of the sofa, your face falling within kissing distance of Eddie's. You moaned and grunted into each others mouths, lips barely brushing and sharing breath as Steve continued to assist you onto Eddie's length. It took you a moment to adjust to his ridiculous size, Steve giving you a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

"C'mon baby, you've still got a few more inches left. Be a good girl and show Eddie how well you can take him."

You were already creaming all over him, your juices dripping down his length and pearling along his balls. Steve watched as your pussy struggled to swallow him whole, his cock just about ready to burst out of his jeans at the sound of your moans. He unbuttoned them and shoved them down to the top of his thighs, just enough to release his own throbbing cock.

"There we go." He spurred you on with gentle kisses to your shoulder as he fisted his own cock. "That's my good girl."

You whimpered at the praise, struggling to even clench around the thickness of Eddie's length. You gripped desperately at Eddie's top, tugging it over his head and pressing your chest against his to feel his hot skin on yours. You sucked gently along his neck, blindly reaching behind you to yank on Steve's shirt for him to do the same. He practically ripped it off himself before pressing his body against yours, sandwiching you between them. You sighed at his familiar warmth and the feeling of his hard cock on your back. Goose bumps prickled your skin as he danced his fingers down your sides until he reached your hips and then cupped the cheeks of your ass in his hands. He gave them a delicious squeeze before using them to guide you along Eddie's cock. Your hips lifted until just his tip was left dribbling into your cunt. You whined at the loss, resting your head on Eddie's shoulder and lapping your tongue in the crook of his neck. He let out one of the hottest moans you had ever heard when Steve forced you downward, your pussy devouring his cock whole. You practically sobbed when his blunt tip jabbed that swollen spot deep inside you. You breathed and gasped against Eddie's neck, cooling the wet spots of saliva on his skin and making him groan at the sensation.

Steve continued to guide you up and down. His own length nestled between the cheeks of your ass, your sweat and his leaking precum acting as lube, sliding his cock along the soft flesh. He pressed into you more, wedging his cock between your ass and his stomach for more friction. You moaned at the feeling of him humping your body to get off. Your juices were practically flooding out of you, causing wet slapping noises with every roll of your hips.

You wanted more.

You propped yourself up, coming face to face with Eddie and placed your hands on his shoulders. You started driving your hips faster, angling them to get his cock as deep as possible. You had Eddie and Steve moaning in each ear.

"God, you feel so good wrapped around my cock."

You wanted to tease him for complimenting you, but you were so drunk on his cock that you couldn't say anything more that a sensual whimper.

"You gonna say something nice back, baby?" Steve cooed in your ear, nibbling at the lobe before giving your ass a harsh smack. "You're supposed to be bonding, remember?"

You opened your mouth to say something, but you could do nothing but moan, your head rolling back onto Steve's shoulder in pleasure.

"His cock feels that good you can't even talk, huh?"

"Fuck. It's so good, daddy." You managed breathlessly.

He kept a palm on your ass, and snaked the other one up to wrap around your throat. He gave it a taunting squeeze as he pressed gentle kisses on your cheek until he reached your lips, forcing his tongue inside. It was so fucking messy. The angle made it awkward to capture his lips properly and your mixed saliva ended up pooling out of your mouth. It dribbled down your chin, dripping into the valley of your breasts. Eddie couldn't help but reach up a hand, collecting it and smearing it over your tits, giving them a delicious shine. The open air cooled it on your skin, making your nipples impossibly hard. The feeling of Eddie's rough hands grazing over your skin was slowly pushing you to the edge.

"Fuck! Eddie, I'm so close." You moaned like you were the star of your own porno.

"That's it, sweetheart. Cum on my cock."

"You hear that, baby?" Steve teased. "You've got him calling you sweetheart."

You moaned wildly as you bounced, desperate to feel your release wash over you. Steve's strong hands had you slamming onto Eddie's cock so rapidly that your shaking legs were struggling to keep up. Your pussy throbbed with the pounding of your heart, hungry for euphoria. With a few more guided thrusts, your orgasm spread across your entire body with searing pleasure. Your walls squeezed harshly around Eddies cock causing him to groan. You fell onto his chest, panting and shaking pathetically.

"Good fucking girl." Eddie growled in your ear. "You think you can take more?"

You nodded aimlessly, completely intoxicated by your orgasm. You couldn't prevent the whimper from escaping your lips when he pulled out, leaving you feeling completely empty. Eddie moved you onto the couch with his muscular arms, resting your upper body on the arm rest so you were on all fours for him. Your back arched in anticipation, your ass glistening with sweat and Steve's precum. He gave it a smack, causing you to moan.

In one swift motion, Eddie forced his cock back into your abused cunt, punching the air from your lungs. He slammed his hips into yours frantically, ramming his cock deep inside you at a much faster pace than you had ridden him. You were practically screaming, eyes rolling into your skull and mouth hung open in complete bliss.

Suddenly, you felt a hand gripping on your jaw and guiding you forwards. Steve stood in front of you, grasping the base of his cock and awaiting your eager mouth. You opened wider, lolling out your tongue. He placed the tip of his cock on the soft muscle, letting you lap at in like a lollipop and suckling it into your warm mouth. At the feeling of the soft walls of your cheeks, he released his hand and harshly thrust his cock all the way to the back of your throat. He groaned, stroking the top of your head until a vein bulged in your forehead. He reluctantly pulled back to allow you some oxygen. You coughed and spluttered for air, taking in a few lung-fulls to prepare yourself before his cock intruded your mouth again. You had had plenty of practice deep throating him that you hardly ever gagged anymore. But Eddie's constant thrusting had your body edging forwards, taking Steve's cock deeper and deeper until your throat was constricting around him. He moaned again at the tightness before placing both hands on the back of your head and pounding his hips into your face. You were moaning and crying around his length, high in ecstasy at the feeling of being taken from both ends at the same time.

"You can go harder than that, man. You're not gonna break her." Steve critiqued. "And spank her too, she likes it rough."

"Yeah, I can see that." Eddie laughed breathlessly.

His hips pistoned into you at a ridiculous pace and a large hand struck your ass. You gagged around Steve's cock at the sting, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. He did it again, leaving his mark on your other cheek before rubbing the skin tenderly. Your sensitive cunt was screaming at you to stop, but you were getting so close again. You murmured around Steve's length, trying to warn him of your oncoming orgasm.

"What was that, baby?" Steve teased. "I couldn't hear you over my cock."

You tried to repeat yourself, but Steve wrapped a hand around your throat, squeezing his cock through it so it was tight around his length. Your words were gargled and the vibrations shot along his shaft, making him grunt animalistically. You looked up at him through wet eyelashes, begging him to let you talk. He took pity on you, pulling his cock from the back of your throat and putting you out of your misery. You gasped for air.

"Fuck, I'm so close!" You're voice was hoarse. "Can I cum again, daddy?"

"I don't know, baby. You're gonna have to ask Eddie, he's the one who's gonna make you cum."

Never in your life did you think you would be begging Eddie for anything. You could practically hear him smirking behind you. Any other time you wouldn't dream of it, but right now you were desperate.

"Please can I cum, Eddie?"

"Fuck, you're so fucking hot." He slapped a hand on your ass again before reaching round to play with your clit. "Cum for me, sweetheart."

His callous fingers on your sensitive clit had you cumming almost instantly. You were glad that Eddie had his arm around your waist because you didn't think that you could hold yourself up on your shaking legs. Your entire body was humming in pleasure as Eddie continued the thrust into you. You moaned an 'ah, ah, ah' with every snap of his hips, your walls quivering around his length.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum, sweetheart. Where do you want it?"

"Inside. Cum inside me, Eddie. Fill me up."

His eyes squeezed tight and his hips began to lose their rhythm. Despite your overstimulated cunt, you threw your hips back to meet his thrust, sending him over the edge. His hands gripped your hips and impaled you on his cock, keeping you firmly in place. You pussy engulfed him completely until his balls were pressed against your clit. You could feel them tightening as he released his load deep inside you with a loud groan. He pressed a soft kiss to the centre of your back before slowly pulling out and falling back onto the couch. You followed suit, not being able to hold yourself up. You fell between his legs, resting your back on his heaving his chest.

"You think you got one more in you?" Steve's voice was soft as he climbed between your legs and pressed a persuasive kiss to your lips.

His cock stood tall, red and twitching, and dripping precum onto your stomach. Despite your reluctance, you could feel your mouth watering for him. Your body seemed to have a mind of its own. You nodded listlessly with heavy eyes and spread your legs wide for him.

Your cunt was swollen, dripping with Eddie's cum and eager to please. Steve's cock twitched in his hand as he scooped the still-warm cum onto his tip and shoved it all the way back into your pussy. You let out a quiet whimper at the sensation. Steve was definitely longer than Eddie. You could feel him much deeper, especially when he pressed a hand to your stomach, feeling himself inside of you with every thrust.

You were just completely lost in pleasure. Completely and utterly cock drunk.

Unexpectedly, feather light kisses trailed along your neck and calloused hands danced delicately over the soft skin of your arms until they met your tender breasts. You turned your head to look at Eddie. His eyelids hung low, chocolate irises staring longingly at your lips. You angled your neck upwards, meeting in the middle for your first kiss together. He delved in tongue first, massaging yours soothingly and humming at the softness of your lips. It was perfectly unrushed and gentle. The complete opposite of Steve's actions, who thrusted into you desperately trying to chase his high.

You were moaning into Eddie's mouth with every snap of Steve's hips as he shushed and cooed against your lips, telling you how good you were for them and goading you to cum again. The contrast in their actions was making your head spin. Your hands clasped over Eddie's that were continuing to knead your breasts. You guided his rough palms to squeeze gently and you nibbled his bottom lip at the feeling. You gasped loudly against Eddie's tongue at a particularly pleasurable thrust from Steve, his cock perfectly angled to plough deep inside you when he pressed your knees into your chest.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum, baby."

"Cum inside me, daddy. Give it to me, please."

He thrusted a few more times, his cock gliding effortlessly in a mix of your juices and Eddie's cum. The thought of that alone was enough to push him over the edge and he shot his load inside of you. You whined into Eddie, feeling utterly filled to the brim after being stuffed full twice. The second his softening cock slipped from inside of you, he ducked between your legs, gathering his spend and spreading it all over your swollen folds with his tongue. You hands immediately weaved themselves into his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue delved into your bullied hole. Eddie dragged his fingers along your spoilt clit, rubbing harsh circles until your legs started quivering around Steve's head. Your back peeled from Eddie's front as it arched. You struggled to catch your breath between your crescendoing moans. Your toes curled as you released a pleasurable cry to your final orgasm. Eddie stroked your hair and whispered praises in your ear as Steve continued to slurp at your pussy until you pushed him away.

He collected the mix of all your juices on his tongue before pressing his lips to yours, forcing the liquids between your lips and licking into your mouth to swirl the flavours onto your tongue. You moaned at the mix of sweet and salty. Resisting the urge to swallow, you pulled yourself from Steve before passing the mixture to Eddie. He took it from you eagerly, shoving his tongue as deep into your mouth as he could to savour every drop.

"That was so fucking hot." Eddie commended, finally relaxing properly into the sofa.

"Hey, good job, man." Steve complimented, throwing a friendly punch to his arm.

You could hardly hear any of it. Your ears were still ringing from your orgasm and your eyes were threatening to close, feeling completely absent from reality. Three sharp snaps of Steve's fingers had your bleary eyes opening.

"Are you still with us, baby?"

"Yes, daddy." Your voice was just above a whisper and laced with sleep.

"It's not daddy anymore, baby. It's Steve."

"Steve?"

"Yeah, that's it baby." He praised, gently stroking your cheek to ease you back into the real world. "Keep your eyes open, baby. I'm gonna get you a glass of water, okay?"

You nodded drowsily, your head lolling back onto Eddie's chest. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head when Steve was out of sight.

"You good, sweetheart? You have a good time?"

You nodded again, humming a soft 'mm hmm'.

"Well, I'm glad that we could resolve our differences." His laugh rumbled against your back.

Steve waltzed back, jeans hung loosely and unbuckled on his hips as he approached with two tall glasses of water. "Can you sit up for me, baby?"

You had barely any strength left in your body. Eddie had to sit you up with him, keeping you pressed against his chest. Steve handed him a glass of water. He brought it to your lips, the coolness of it hydrating your parched lips and dry mouth. You gulped it down greedily, nearly half the glass gone before you started feeling more awake. You finished the glass before using what little energy you had left to pry yourself from Eddie's sweaty skin and sat yourself properly on the couch between the two boys.

"We need to do that again." You exhaled with a chuckle.

"We can talk about that in the morning, sweetheart. For now, let's get you cleaned up."

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

[3.3k] a tired girlfriend, an eager to please steve. a flip and reverse it fic of this smutty oneshot.

If you’d not already made Steve aware of your bad day on your lunch break via a rushed, staticky phone call, he would’ve definitely caught onto quickly when you arrived home.

The door hit your hip as you battered your way inside the small hall, a curse leaving your lips in a way that was rougher than usual. He heard your bag hit the floor, a cacophony of dull thumps as you toed off your shoes and let them hit the baseboards, uncaring for once about the scuffs they left on the wood.

It would be tomorrow’s problem, and right now, the current one was his to fix.

You’d called to tell him that not only was today going horrifically, but that you’d been forced into working late as well. Mournful, you’d told him to not wait and have dinner without you, that you’d see to yourself whenever you arrived home. And now at almost nine o’clock, you really couldn’t face the idea of eating a large meal before diving face first into your side of the bed. But still, the house smelled appeasing, garlic and tomatoes and something like your favourite candle burning underneath it all coming from the kitchen.

It’s where you found Steve, leaning against the sink as he finished washing his own empty plate, leftover chicken on the stove if you wanted it. He turned at the sound of you, wet hands avoiding touching you but arms open all the same. He hummed something sympathetic when you closed your own around his waist, nose pressed to the middle of his chest as you groaned aloud before breathing him in.

He ducked down, lips on the crown of your head. “Baby.”

It was the sweetest of greetings, soft and full of an aching affection that made your shoulders slump and your eyes prick with hot tears. You let out a whine, a pitiful thing that made you press your face into the man’s chest a little harder and Steve cooed back with the same amount of understanding.

“You’re home now,” he murmured against your forehead, kisses stamped there too. He didn’t mention your bad day, no need now that it was over and he was there to fix it. “Lemme dry my hands and say ‘hi’ properly, huh? You hungry? I can put more garlic bread in the oven if you want some.”

You didn’t respond, not when Steve was drying his hands off on the towel hanging from the oven door and grasping your chin with a finger and thumb. It was so easy to smile with his touch on you, his attention. The corners of your lips lifted as he moved into you, big hand holding your jaw still for him as he kissed you. It was familiar and sweet and over a little too quickly but when he pulled back and saw your closed eyes and pout, Steve grinned and moved back in.

“Want ‘nother?” He whispered, too soft to sound teasing but you knew him well enough. Eyes still closed, you nodded, nose bumping against his own as you pushed up onto your toes and tried to find his lips with yours own. “Poor girl,” he told you, pouting right back. “My girl, my pretty, pretty girl.”

His kisses were more languid now, slower, deeper, easier to get lost in. Steve hummed against you, hands on the small of your back and keeping you tucked in close. His words had the right effect, softening you, making you hold onto him that little bit tighter, your hands fisting the front of t-shirt in a way that had his head spinning.

“Can I get you some food, huh? You wanna eat?” Steve asked, kissing at your cheek, nose pushed to the warm apple of it as you tried to get your bearings. The kitchen was warmer than before. “Go get changed and I can plate up for you.”

You shook your head as you held onto him, working yourself closer as Steve attempted to move to the stove.

“Baby—”

You didn’t say anything as you buried your face into the crook of his neck but you didn’t have to. Steve just leant back against the counter top, taking you with him. He wound his arms around you, holding you against him, warm and solid and the best thing you’d felt all day. It was easy to let out the sigh you’d been holding as he kissed at your cheek, head lolling to the side as he worked his mouth down your jaw and over your neck, kisses open mouthed and warm.

He didn’t have to do too much to make you let out other noises, softer, raspier ones that morphed into small moans and gasps. Teeth grazed over your pulse point as large hands wandered down, fingers cupping at the swell of your ass and you held onto Steve’s shoulders, eyes closed and head tipped to the side so he could do what he wanted to you.

Steve groaned as you fell pliant against him, your body moulding to his more than ever as you tried to work your way closer to his warmth, his hands, the smell of his leftover aftershave that clung to his neck.

“Want me to make you feel good?” He murmured, still kissing at the pieces of your skin that he could reach. Your black dress that you wore to the office seemed suddenly too encasing, the cotton fabric restricting him from all the places he wanted to touch. “Hmm? Want me to make you forget about your shitty day, honey?”

The idea seemed divine, heavenly, actually. Enough to make you sigh all pretty and whine when Steve’s teeth nipped gently at your jawline, your head tipping back and lips parting at his attention. But your body was bone tired, thrumming with the need your boyfriend had lit inside of you with his touch but your limbs ached, muscles already protesting at still being on your feet.

Regretful, you opened your eyes to meet Steve’s, his gaze overwhelming adoring as he gazed down at you, watching the way your body and face responded to each sweep of his fingers over your waist.

“I would love that,” you told him, voice soft and as quiet as his own. The hum of the fridge was the only other sound in the room, the soft glow of the light above the stove making Steve seem peach coloured, highlighted in gold. “But I don’t think I could hold myself up long enough.”

You tried to lighten your tone with a smile, tired as it was. And Steve could’ve responded with something dirty about having you on your back as he had his way with you but instead, he ducked down to kiss you again, soft and at the corner of your mouth.

“What if I look after you, hm?” He asked you, as kind and gentle as his kisses were. Each question was punctuated with another push of his mouth against yours, the rasp of his stubble against your cheek making your toes curl. “You won’t have to do a thing, honey. Jus’ gotta look pretty for me, yeah? Let me make you feel better? You wanna do that?”

It sounded like an offer you couldn’t turn down, enticing and as sweet as the boy in front of you. You knew that if you said no and asked to go to bed instead, Steve would lead you there with a kind hand and tuck you into bed himself - his offer was very much for you and not him. You could see it in the way he was gazing down at you, warm and affectionate as he pushed the baby hairs away from your eyes and dropped a kiss to the tip of your nose.

You’d done the same for him before, making him forget about any worries or stress he had as you handed him a stiff drink and then let him use your mouth, sitting on his laps and letting him play with you as he pleased.

So you nodded, breath exhaling in a shaky gasp and Steve stole one more kiss from you before gently nudging you towards the living room.

Steve met you there, where the lights were dimmed and the curtains were already closed and he sat on the slumped cushions of your well loved sofa and held out a hand. “C’mere, honey.”

He led you forward, fingers caught in his and he coaxed you onto his knee, legs spreading until you were sat on his lap, your dress hitching above your knees. “There y’go,” Steve praised. “You just sit there for me, yeah? Lookin’ too pretty, did I tell you that? Even prettier than last time I saw you, god, what did I tell you ‘bout doing that, huh?”

You couldn’t help your grin as Steve spoke sweetly, all charm and that soft smile that made your tummy flip, the tips of his fingers running down the tops of your bare arms. “Shut up,” you mumbled, embarrassed and pleased and shy all at once.

“What?” Steve grinned right back. “You know what I’m talking about. You just keep gettin’ prettier, babe, s’not good for my health.”

He’d complimented you enough for a kiss, one you greedily gave as you leaned in, hands pressed to his abdomen as you took what he gave you, greedy for the softness of his lips, more of his touch.

Steve hummed, giving you what you wanted before he pushed you back again, just slightly, gaze wandering down to your chest, to the tiny buttons that held the front of your dress together. He tapped the top one, his other hand grazing over your knee. “Can I make you more comfortable?”

You nodded, sensing the shift in the room, in him. It was quiet, the television off, the streets outside quiet in the late hour, no traffic or garden sprinklers to be heard from beyond the window.

Steve smiled as he popped the first button, then the second, then the third. It was enough for the straps of your dress to loosen and slip, dropping from your shoulders to expose more of you, your cleavage becoming visible, that pretty expanse of skin on show for Steve. The man cooed at the sight, fingertips trailing over your chest, dipping between your breasts until you made a soft noise and arched your back for him.

“There you go,” Steve whispered. “Nice?”

“Yeah,” you whispered back. You didn’t want to ask for more already, you wanted to be patient. But Steve was close to smirking. “Babe—”

“I know,” he assured you. “Gimme a sec, honey.” His hand trailed back to the buttons, the last three popping open under his nimble touch and the lacy cups of your bra appeared. The dress fell apart, dropping from your upper body and Steve blew out a breath. “Oh, you’re just the prettiest.”

You grew warm under Steve’s stare, his own cheeks turning pink as he took his time looking over you. You kept your chin high as he ran one finger down the middle of your chest, dipping into the space between your breasts, that soft spot of skin that made goosebumps erupt. “Can I see more? Gonna let me play w’you?”

You could only nod.

So Steve took that same single digit and hooked it into the first bra cup, pulling down, and then the same to the other side. It felt filthy being exposed like that, the band of your bra still around your ribs, the cups pulled down to free your tits, nipples peaking immediately on contact with the cooler air.

Steve groaned, lips parting at the sight before him and he shifted under you, the tent in his sweatpants growing. But he didn’t try much more than reaching out to graze the pad of one finger over a nipple. You gasped, body jerking slightly at the new touch, skin sensitive. And Steve mumbled something soothing, flicking his finger over your nipple until it stiffened entirely, hard and begging for more attention.

He pinched it, the skin darkening further, your mouth opening in a silent plea and he got a little mean, just the way you liked him to be. Steve pulled, letting go to watch your breast bounce back and he grinned before giving the other side the same attention. He cupped you, too big hands gathering your tits in his palms as he pressed them together and lay kisses across your chest, soft and sweet until his lips parted and he could sweep the flat of his tongue over a nipple.

You whined, back arching further, pushing yourself against his mouth, hands finding the back of his head so you could hold onto his hair. It made him grunt, teeth grazing ever, ever so gently over you. A soft bite, more tongue than teeth before he sucked at you, his nose pressed into your soft skin with intent.

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, fingers squeezing, palms moulded to you. “Baby, you’ve got the prettiest tits. Pretty all over, huh?” He pulled at your nipples again, a little harsh, eyes glazed over as he let go and watched them harden even further. “That good?”

You squirmed in answer, trying to find some friction against his leg but Steve kept his own knees spread, the junction between your thighs hovering over empty space and keeping you open for him.

“C’mon, tell me,” Steve reminded you, squeezing a warm, rough hand over your breast again. His thumb flicked your nipple, his smile too sweet. “Does it feel good?”

“Yeah,” you told him, brows scrunched and lips pouted. Your breath was coming heavier than before, chest heaving, tits arching forward for more of Steve’s mean touch. “Yeah, s’really good.”

The breathiness of your voice made the man groan, eyes half lidded as he settled back into the sofa and watched you grab at the hem of his shirt, grounding yourself. “Good girl,” he told you, voice quiet like before but a little raspier. “Let’s get this out the way, yeah?” He tugged at the bottom of your dress, lifting the hem until it dragged over the tops of your thighs.

You were burning now, tits on display, dress hanging off you, bra tangled around your ribs and your underwear on show. Steve grinned as he spread his knees a little wider still, opening yours further in return. He had you positioned on his lap, thighs open, the damp spot on your cotton underwear very much seen. Steve pressed his thumb there, over your entrance, pushing softly until he heard you moan his name.

“Fuck, baby,” Steve cursed, “already got yourself all worked up, haven’t you?”

You nodded, hips bucking against nothing and the thought of having to stand up to take your underwear off seemed too much of a task. “Steve, babe— Steve, please.”

The man tutted at you, cheeks reddening at your begging, his cock hard under his sweats, pressing against the cotton and twitching for release. But Steve wasn’t doing this to tease and he wasn’t doing this for himself. So he hushed you with soft hands and soft sounds before he gave a harsh tug to the elastic sides of your underwear and ripped the seam.

If you hadn’t been desperate before, that did it.

You squeaked, clinging to Steve’s hips as he pushed the now torn cotton out of the way, your spread cunt fully on show for him. He wasn’t subtle in his staring, his jaw unhinged as he murmured sweet, dirty words to you, his hands soothing up the insides of your thighs, kneading the doughy skin there.

“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Pretty girl with a pretty pussy, huh?” His hands met at the juncture of your thighs, thumbs framing your folds so he could pull apart your lips, spreading you for his own viewing pleasure. “So wet, baby. You wanna come for me? Can I make you come nice and hard, yeah?”

You were gone, nodding with a head that felt too heavy, your nails digging into the tops of Steve’s arms to keep yourself balanced and you might have been whispering, begging over and over again, breathless and tits heaving as you tried to suck in enough air to keep yourself upright.

Steve didn’t need to work you up anymore, using one thumb to push at your clit, a soft press that had you immediately keening. You’d been with Steve long enough to have told him - and shown him - exactly how you liked to be touch. And despite his academic downfalls, he was a quick study in the bedroom. He didn’t falter in his pace nor his pressure, keeping a steady, slow circle over your clit as he watched your face.

He smiled when he saw your features go slack, a lazy, warm softness take over your expression, lips parting, eyes unfocused.

“That’s it, honey,” he praised. “You sit there and look pretty for me. Hmm? Yeah, like that, keep those legs open and lemme watch you come, wanna see that pretty, little pussy soak my hand.” Steve let out a rough sigh when you whined, one of your hands leaving his bicep to cup at his jaw and he turned his head to press a kiss to your palm, to nip at your thumb. “Pretty girl, pretty baby.”

He didn’t slip any fingers inside of you and you didn’t ask. In fact, Steve merely let his thumb run down between your folds and gather the wetness there. He hummed when you gasped, grinned when you moaned and then took his thumb back to your swollen button as his free hand cupped your tit. He squeezed and plucked at your nipple as his thumb circled, pulling and pushing you closer to an orgasm, all while your cunt clenched around nothing.

“Close, honey?” Steve asked as you swore, hips canting forward, your brows scrunching prettily as you neared the edge. You gasped your confirmation, falling forward into your boyfriend, foreheads touching, noses bumping and you breathed in the air that Steve exhaled out. “Yeah, you are, can see it on your face, baby, you wanna come real bad, don’t you?”

Steve kept his pace the same, circles messy over your wet and swollen clit, his words dirtier than ever, his breath coming out in heavy gasps as he tried to coax you into letting go as you tried to kiss him. Your lips found his jaw, his chin, the corner of his mouth as you groaned and whined and gasped his name, Steve’s eyes fluttering shut as you tried to clamber closer to him but he kept you seated with a sharp tug on your nipple.

“Nuhuh, baby, sit still. Be good, m’gonna get you there,” he promised, muscles in his forearm flexing as he worked you that little harder. “Come for me, yeah? Come nice ‘n hard, pretty girl and I’ll let you have my fingers. You can come ‘round my fingers, yeah? Wanna feel you get nice n’ tight for me— oh, fuck, that’s it—”

It was easy to tell when you’d fallen over the edge, your jaw unhinged as you pressed forward into Steve’s chest, biting at the meat of his shoulder to smother your long, gasping moan. His name came out in several syllables, your hands finding his hair again as you tugged, your mouth finding his just as Steve swore, two fingers slipping into your aching cunt easily, your walls pulsing around them in a way that had his dick throbbing in the same pattern.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Steve grunted, hooking the pads of his digits into you and keeping them there, stuffing you full in a way he hadn’t given you before you’d come. “Such a good girl, feel better, yeah?”

Glassy eyed, you could only nod, nosing at the side of his neck, hands threading through the ends of his hair as if you’d float away if you let go.

Maybe you would.

Heavy limbed and more bone tired than before, you curled into Steve’s chest, sighing warmly when his arms welcomed you closer. He smelled like cologne and home and sex, and before your eyes closed completely, you managed to whisper into his jawline:

“M’gonna return the favour,” you promised. “Tomorrow. M’gonna return it tomorrow.”

[lovebugism]

hi! can i request shy/innocent reader who blushes at any sex talk, but one day she shows up covered in hickies that she didn’t notice and eddie, robin and the gang are grilling her trying to find out who shes with and steve’s just standing in the corner like🧍‍♂️

ty for requesting :D — the gang finds a hickey on you during movie night (shy!fem!r, fluff, 1.3k)

Slasher films, Eddie tells you, are just excuses to make the goriest, raunchiest movies known to man. But that’s why they’re so good! he exclaims like a giddy teenage boy before sliding the bulky VHS into the tape player. 

Your stomach’s been in knots about it since. You’re made of something more delicate than that — not particularly built for gruesome horror — but you swallow down your worrying anyway. 

Robin’s smacking on gummy worms at your feet, Eddie hasn’t stopped smiling since he sat down beside you, and Steve’s got one toned arm wrapped tightly around your shoulder. The combination of familiarity takes your mind off the whole thing when you threaten to scare yourself about it.

A half-hour in, and the scariest thing you’ve seen so far, is an overtly theatric sex scene. You only get a glimpse of the static nudity before a clammy, ringed hand splays itself over your eyes. It doesn’t save you from the high-pitched squealing and gruff moans, though, so you’re not entirely sure it’s doing much.

“What are you doing?” you ask Eddie through quiet giggles.

“This shit’s gross,” he answers, muffled through the candy in his cheek. “You don’t need to be watchin’ stuff like this.”

Your brows furrow beneath his palm. “I’m not a child, Eds.”

“Yeah, but you’re too pure! I wouldn’t feel right if I just let you watch it!”

Steve returns from the kitchen then, with a bowl of refilled popcorn in hand. He scoops a handful into his mouth and scolds through the mouthful. “Eddie. Leave her alone.”

The pale hand slips from your face when the scene ends — the climax sufficiently interrupted by a serial killing, chainsaw weilding psycho. The wild-haired boy scoffs. “Jeez! Sorry for trying to take care of your girlfriend, Harrington!”

“I do that on my own. I don’t need your help, freak,” Steve retorts, unthinking, before plopping down beside you and shoveling another handful of popcorn into his mouth. 

All three of you glance at him with unwavering stares. He blinks back at you for a moment until the realization hits him. Rolling his chocolate eyes, he grouses, “Not like that, you pervs.”

Eddie grins. “Oh, so it’s not like that, then?” he wonders in a teasing lilt. 

“Well,” Steve shrugs, trying and failing to hide his smirk. “I mean, obviously it is, but—”

“Steve…” you waver in an inaudible whine, shrinking back into the couch, hoping it’ll swallow you whole. 

The boy seems confused by your sudden sheepishness. He’s never been shy about anything in his life. “I’m just saying!” he chuckles. “I’m your boyfriend. I take care of you. That’s, like, my whole job… One that I do very well, might I add.”

Robin grumbles while Steve and Eddie laugh like a couple of teenage boys. She rises from her comfy spot on the carpet and reaches for your hand. She pulls you into the kitchen behind her and calls to them over her shoulder. “You guys are such freaks, you know that?”

——————

Tired and slightly tipsy, you stand with Steve on his back porch. A cigarette hangs loosely from his plush lips. His chiseled jaw tightens every time he takes a drag. The sight of him is impossible to look away from.

“You don’t think I take care of you?” he blurts before blowing smoke from his mouth. The wisps disappear beneath the starry velvet sky.

“Huh?”

“Earlier. When Eddie was making that stupid joke,” the boy explains, snuffing the cig out in the ashtray on the railing. He glances at you with sparkling honey eyes, half beneath his lashes, before turning away again. Almost shy. “I said it was my job to take care of you or whatever, and you just… Kinda grumbled about it. Like you don’t think I do or something.”

Your chest stings.

“Of course you do!” you answer sheepishly. “It’s just… hard for me to talk about, I guess. In front of Eddie and Robin and everything…”

“Oh,” he hums, nodding with his pink lips softly pouted. When the realization passes, he bites back a bashful beam. “So… you do think I take care of you, then?”

You roll your eyes, still impossibly shy. You know that he knows that answer now — he just wants to hear you say it. “Obviously…” you murmur with a quiet smile you try hard to keep hidden.

“Good,” he says to himself, nodding like he’s proud. “That’s good…”

You’re not sure how, but you end up squished between his body and the deck railing in record time. Steve kisses the breath from your lungs with lips tasting of nicotine, cola, and sour candy. His golden hands dig into your hips while his mouth trails to your jaw. 

You twist your hands in the strands of his silky chestnut hair as his plush lips lock with your thrumming pulse. A sigh spills from your mouth at the tingling feeling — warm and wet, then stinging for a moment. Steve runs his tongue over the bruise he left there. 

“Don’t leave a mark,” you scold in a slurred whine.

His chuckle fans across your neck before he parts from you. The lovebite is hardly noticeable now, just beginning to blossom beneath your jaw. “I think it might be a little too late for that, babe,” he teases with lidded eyes.

The backdoor slides open before Steve can kiss you again. Eddie stumbles out with a cigarette hanging between his lips. Robin nearly runs into the back of him when the boy stops suddenly in his tracks. His chocolate eyes flit between the two of you, now separated and trying to play it cool.

“…Are we interrupting something?” he murmurs through the stick in his mouth.

Steve shrugs and puts his hands on his hips, so not cool. “What? No. What are you— What are you even doing out here?”

The lighter clicks. “…Smoking?”

He glances at Robin, then. Her ocean eyes widen as she shrugs. “I just didn’t wanna be left out,” she murmurs in an answer to his silent question.

“Fair enough.”

Eddie squeezes between you and Steve, clumsy and unknowing. He glances at you innocently once, then again with suspicious, squinted eyes. “Is that a bruise?” he wonders before turning away to exhale the smoke from his lungs.

Your chest wrenches. “Huh?” you hum with pinched brows.

“You have a bruise on your neck,” he tells you, pointing a ringed finger to the blooming mark Steve left some minutes ago now. “What happened?”

He says it like he’s concerned. Like he’s worried something had happened to you. The possibility of it being a hickey doesn’t even cross his mind — ‘cause you’re just too pure for that. 

You shrug and start to stammer, somehow less cool than the overtly uncasual boy on Eddie’s other side. “I don’t know. It’s probably just... The lighting or something.”

His fluffy brows pinch together as his eyes dart over your face. You’re visibly flustered, lips softly swollen and shining with spit. He looks at Steve next and finds the boy looking much of the same. Only then does he realize what he’s interrupted.

“Eugh!” he groans in disgust, features screwed-up and puppylike.

Steve fights back a laugh. “What?!”

“You guys are a bunch of dirtbags!” Eddie shouts.

“It’s just a hickey, Eds,” the brunette boy says, chuckling before he can help it. “It’s okay. Calm down.”

“Absolutely harlot behavior. Both of you,” he chides, shaking his head until his wild curls sway around his jaw. While the rest of you laugh, he grumbles. “I don’t even feel like smoking now. You guys just ruined this cig for me.”

The three of you blink at him when he takes another drag. It takes him a moment too long to register the stares. When he does, he spreads his palms in defense and mumbles through the stick. “Well, I’m not gonna waste it!”