#billy has a girlfriend but not for long lol

[fairyysoup]

i can see you

♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: The secret history of your long and arduous relationship with Steve Harrington.

aka: the 5 times you pined over each other, and the time you actually did something about it

words: 17.6k (we're NOT gonna talk about it lol)

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, flirting, making out, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, biting, steve harrington has a big dick, themes of infidelity/cheating (sort of), skipping out on dates, bad dates, steve steal-your-girl harrington, almost-kisses, jealous!steve, jealous!reader, possessive behavior, smoking, alcohol consumption, allusions to marriage but it's never actually mentioned, canon compliant, reader and steve are the same age, 5+1 things, songfic, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual crush, slow burn one shot, mild twist ending, begins in season two (1984) and ends in the 90s, high school, scoops ahoy era, family video era, waiter!steve, steve harrington (the eras tour), vignette, one instance of billy hargrove slander, original characters created for plot, inspired by i can see you by taylor swift, other taylor song inspo throughout bc i'm insane like miss swift

a/n: hi and welcome to ✨rose's mental breakdown✨ yes this song will be my number one on spotify wrapped bc i listened to it on a loop for five days straight while writing this. idk. anyways this is So Much and i'm tired of looking at it so if there are any mistakes i apologize. anyways whoever can point out the most taylor song references aside from the obvious titular one gets a doubloon

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

You brush past me in the hallway, and you don’t think I can see you, do you? I’ve been watchin’ you for ages, and I spend my time trying not to feel it…

Hawkins High, September 1984

He’s so pretty sometimes that it’s disgusting.

That’s really the only thing you think when you watch Steve Harrington sneak up on his girlfriend, Nancy Wheeler, and swoop her off the ground in front of her locker. From across the hall, your locker hangs open, your body turned halfway toward them so that you can pretend that you’re not staring.

You stare a lot.

It’s not exactly the hair, you think- everyone shits a brick about his hair, for some reason that you don’t understand. Yeah, it’s nice… but you like everything else about him, too. You like how sweet he looks when he laughs. You like the way that he holds himself and the way that he looks when he puts his hands on his hips and stands around like he’s directing the traffic around him. You like how much of a prince charming he is, really. It would surprise you if he doesn’t win prom king at the end of the year. They already call him King Steve, it’s not too far of a stretch.

You close your locker just as Steve kisses Nancy, in front of god and everybody in the C Corridor hallway. Steve’s arms wrap around Nancy’s petite frame and he dips her, like they’re in some sort of George Peck and Audrey Hepburn movie. Not that the place is much of a cinematic setting, though. Down the hall, the science rooms are doing their dissection units, so the whole place smells like formaldehyde and disinfectant, and you sort of feel like curling up into one of those dissection pans and dying, yourself. 

That should be me, your brain screams. Me!!

It’s always been like this. You’ve had a crush on Steve since freshman year- the fact that he’s dating Nancy, who’s a year younger than him, doesn’t escape your jealous mind. You’ve been in classes with him for four years, you’ve admired him quietly, you’ve hoped and prayed that he somehow noticed you noticing him.

You don’t think he knows you exist. Four years- and now you’re both seniors, about to graduate, and he still doesn’t notice you. You should really stop caring, or stop trying, or stop… pining. Or something. 

You hike your bag up onto your shoulder and juggle your books in your arms. The bell rings, and quite suddenly the entire hallway erupts into pandemonium (predictable, sure, considering everyone loiters around instead of actually getting to class on time). Kids fly around you in all directions to get to their next classroom. Nancy Wheeler ducks away from Steve Harrington, avoiding yet another kiss.

God, you wish you could kiss him.

Someone slams into your shoulder from behind, muscling past you to get to science lab 5, rat central. Your binder slips out of the stack of books in your arms and clatters loudly to the ground, just as someone walks past and kicks it across the floor.

“Fuck,” you spit, chasing after it. The back of your neck feels hot. For the first time in four years, you hope to god that Steve Harrington doesn’t notice you. 

You duck around people’s legs, trying to grab at your binder, while not trying to drop any more of the books in your arms. Loose papers are starting to fall out of the binder as it skitters across the floor, and this is becoming more and more of a comedy of errors by the minute.

Your fingers just brush the corner of it before someone kicks it again. 

“Do you mind?” you snap as they walk away, not even looking in your direction. Crouched close to the floor, you don’t matter. Maybe you could count that as a blessing, considering you don’t want to be perceived right now.

You finally just throw away all dignity and crawl across the tile floor- disgusting and dirty and covered in sandy grit, as though it hasn’t been cleaned all year- to get to your binder. 

And you come face to face with a pair of white Nike’s. Ones that you know way too well, because you’ve stared at them every time they’ve passed you in the hallway. 

Nonononono- You clench your jaw and then look up, way up, to find Steve Harrington towering over you. 

He looks like he was about to just step around you, but then he notices you gazing up at him from all fours, and his hazel eyes lock on yours. You blink at each other for a second before he flushes, a pink blush breaking out on his cheeks and crawling up his neck, and he looks away quickly, but crouches down to grab your binder before your hand can land on it. 

“Sorry,” Steve says quietly, gathering up the couple papers that had started to slide out of the folders inside. You sit back on your heels, your blood rushing in your ears, mortified. His big hands gently poke the papers back into the folder as they should be before he hands it to you. “Looks like you’re gonna be late to class.”

You scoff. “Look who’s talking.”

Steve’s eyes find yours again, and he’s finally so close to you that you can admire the little bit of green in them. You’ve never been close enough to notice before.

He cracks a lopsided smile, one that he uses to charm people, you know- you’ve seen him use it on teachers and cute girls alike. “I’m always late to the party. But I get there, eventually.”

“I hope so.” He cocks his head at you. He doesn’t know the real meaning to your words- or, at least, you don’t think he does. 

I hope you don’t stay oblivious forever, Steve Harrington. I hope you get there, eventually.

You take your binder from him, but you pull your eyes away from his a bit later than you properly should. “Thanks, Steve.”

You get up and take off toward your next class, walking quickly so that you don’t come off like you’re lingering too long. But, halfway down the hall, you look over your shoulder at him.

Steve hasn’t moved, still crouched down close to the floor, with his head bent like he’s deep in thought. With his back to you, you can still see the pink flush on the back of his neck, peeking out above his collared shirt.

‘Cause I can see you, waiting down the hall from me, and I can see you up against the wall with me. What would you do? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you…

Hawkins High, April 1985

Prom season sucks. Always has, and always will. 

Maybe it was your fault for hoping that Logan Sawyer, popular prick extraordinaire, was serious about wanting to take you to prom. He seemed serious enough, stopping by your locker during passing period and leaning over you as he asked you, his mega-watt smile making you blush. You’d counted yourself lucky- you didn’t think anyone was going to ask you, and people aren’t allowed to go to prom stag.

It took Logan two weeks to find a prettier girl to go with, though. You don’t know why it hurts so much. Maybe it’s because you wanted to believe that you were someone’s first choice, but it never quite seems to turn out that way.

You wipe your tears in the mirror, scowling at your puffy, bloodshot eyes. The bathroom next to the girls’ locker room in the sports wing is completely deserted at this time- the boys’ gym class is in session now, and you’re cutting into your lunch time, but you really don’t want to have to go and cry at a lunch table, in front of a bunch of your bitchy peers, who will inevitably make fun of you for it.

Sniffling, but slightly more composed, you head out of the bathroom. The sports wing is ridiculously bigger than any other wing of the school (typical of American public schools, to prioritize sports over every other department). The wing boasts weight training rooms, dance rooms, three separate gymnasiums, and a door directly to the football field, with the locker rooms on the farthest end to allow for easy access to the field. Connecting all of these rooms is the longest corridor in the building, which seems to run for half a fucking mile.

You’ll have to walk that half mile, because in order to get to the cafeteria, you’re gonna have to traverse the entire building. You might not get to eat much today, but it was a sacrifice you were willing to make. Maybe Mrs. Marshall will be kind enough to let you snack on a granola bar in your next class period.

Halfway down the long hallway, you feel the angry sting of tears behind your eyes again, and your face screws up in frustration. You stop, turning halfway back toward the girls’ bathroom, wondering if you should just go back in and allow yourself to cry some more.

Suck it up, you think to yourself, smacking at your tear stained cheeks. He’s not the guy you really want to ask you to prom, anyways.

You press your fingertips into your eyes to relieve the sting of tears, taking a deep breath. Being in high school is driving you crazy. At this point in the year, the teachers have given up teaching, the students have given up learning, and you’re basically just biding your time in a glorified babysitting service until you can inevitably grab your diploma and get out of here. You can’t wait for that time to arrive. 

A door opens further down the hallway, in the direction of the cafeteria. You wipe your nose once and keep moving in the direction you were going, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, standing in the middle of the hallway having a breakdown.

Moving forwards, you keep your eyes on the ground. Once you hear the door that had been opened slam shut again, you figure that whoever it was has moved on down the hallway, and you lift your eyes again. 

They have not, in fact, moved on. And you suddenly have the urge to turn and fucking run back into the girls’ bathroom, because Steve Harrington is bent over at the drinking fountain, directly outside the boys’ weight room.

What the fuck, what the fuck. You suck on your teeth, trying not to falter in your stride. Maybe he hasn’t seen you, and you can just pass him up. It’s fine, he hasn’t seen you crying. 

Your mind backtracks to the beginning of the year, you fumbling your binder all the way across the hallway and ending up right in front of him, crawling toward him. Looking up at him and probably, most definitely, making him really uncomfortable.

You have English class together, where you sit at the desk closest to the door. He comes in late almost every day, so he passes by you every time. Some days he looks at your desk. On good days, he meets your eye. But he hasn’t spoken to you since that day in September, and you really shouldn’t hold out hope that he will. 

You definitely don’t want him to notice you when you’ve been crying, your face is a mess, your hair is limp and you look bedraggled. You just want to fade into the background of your next class with whatever snack you can get from the cafeteria snuck into your bag, so you can stress eat it without any guff from a teacher (like you aren’t 18 and capable of deciding when you are and aren’t allowed to eat).

You keep your eyes down. If you don’t look at him, he doesn’t exist.

Except, Steve Harrington always exists, in the back of your mind, and in your periphery. He is impossible not to notice, as per usual. He really just draws the eye like a magnet. Try as you might, your eyes keep flicking up to take stock of him. 

He’s wearing a uniform gray P.E. shirt and gym shorts that don’t leave a lot to the imagination, and you fixate on his thighs more than you should. He has sweat dripping down his neck, wetting his hair on the sides of his face and the seam of his shirt. It shouldn’t be attractive. He shouldn’t be attractive. With his face a mess. And his hair limp, and looking bedraggled. Truly, you make a priceless pair, being the only two people in the hallway.

We’re perfect for each other, a voice says in your head. And you manage, for the first time in an hour, to crack a smile down at your shoes.

He finishes getting his drink at the fountain, and you figure that he’ll just go back into the weight room and not see you. But, of course, luck is not on your side.

Steve Harrington looks at you. And you look away, quickly, acting like you hadn’t been staring at him. And in your periphery, again, you see him stretch his arms over his head, and then turn and lean against the cinderblock wall beside the door to the weight room, with his hands on his knees as though he’s catching his breath.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

He does it so casually, and with the way he’s sweating and his face is flushed, you’re sure that he probably does just want to take a break before going in and lifting more weights. But something in the back of your mind says that the maneuver was too purposeful, immediately after he laid eyes on you. 

It could just be wishful thinking on your part. You heard through the grapevine that Steve and Nancy Wheeler broke up in a nasty way just before winter break, and it doesn’t seem like he’s been interested in anyone since. He hasn’t dated anyone, hasn’t flirted with any girls or showed up at any parties. Nancy must have really broken his heart.

You know too well what that feels like, right now.

Nearing where he leans against the wall, you keep your head down and you plan on just passing by without any acknowledgement from him, same as it ever was. If he’s still carrying a torch for Nancy, you’re sure that he doesn’t want anything to do with you. You’ve nearly convinced yourself of it.

But then you hear your name called quietly, and it nearly makes you jump. You look over at him, thinking you’re just hearing things, but you look directly into a pair of hazel eyes again, and you feel yourself rocketing back in time to September.

You didn’t even think he knew your name.

You slow to a stop. It would be rude not to stop, right? “Uh… hi, Steve. You good?”

Steve Harrington looks you up and down, while he leans against the wall and breathes a bit heavily, like he’s out of breath. He peers at you through long eyelashes, looking impossibly inviting despite everything; the setting, your appearances, the way that you feel like dissolving into a puddle right in front of him. “Yeah, great. You?”

He’s scrutinizing your face now. You shrug, since he’s already seen you, and there’s no way to pretend you weren’t crying thirty seconds ago. “I’m fine. Just being dramatic, don’t worry about me.” 

“When people say not to worry about them, it usually means that you should,” Steve muses. He looks coy, like he’s speaking from experience. 

You sigh, stepping forward to get your own drink from the drinking fountain. “Logan Sawyer called off our date for prom.”

“Oh.” Steve pauses for a few seconds, watching as you bend down and take your drink, more silent than he usually is. “I mean… that really sucks. I’m sorry. But… Logan Sawyer?”  

“Yeah.” You wipe your mouth, and then wet the ends of your fingers and use the cool water to rub at your stinging eyes again. When you’re done, you lean up against the wall beside him, letting your back settle into the cinderblock.

“The guy’s a fucking douche.”

“Tell me about it.”

“No, I mean it, I think it’s a good thing you’re not going to prom with him. He’s really shitty to girls.” You look up at Steve, who’s watching you with his arms crossed, with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen him wear. “I mean, the only guy worse than Logan is probably… I dunno…”

“Billy Hargrove?” 

Steve laughs. Actually laughs. You’ve wanted to make him laugh like that for four years. His cheeks turn crimson and he grins down at his shoes, snickering like there’s way more to the joke he’s laughing at than you even know about. “Yeah. Yeah, he’s gotta be the worst.”

You chuckle, albeit with a sadder tone than he has. “Well, I’m not going to prom with either of them. So, I can count my blessings. I guess.”

Steve frowns, and he looks like he’s going to say something else, but you’re already turning away, not wanting to continue the depressing conversation about your lack of dates. Especially not from the one guy who you desperately want to go on a date with.

You get a few steps away before he takes a step after you, saying, “Wait. You, uh-”

You stop, and look back at him. He looks dumbfounded, his arm outstretched like he was going to try to grab you if you didn’t listen to him. When you frown, he steps back against the wall, bringing his hand up to run through his hair. 

Oh . That’s a nervous tick. You know it, because you’ve watched him do it more than once in English, in front of the class during a presentation.

Steve looks down at his shoes, his brow scrunched in thought. He looks like he’s really trying to find the right words to say. In your head, a hopeful part of you imagines what those words could be. ‘Will you go to prom with me?’

Finally, he looks up at you resolutely. “You’ll find someone to take you to prom. I’m sure of it.” He nods a little, like he’s reassuring himself that he said the right thing. 

You can’t help the smile that springs onto your face. It’s incredulous, of course, but he can’t know that. Keep trying, baby. You’ll get there, eventually.

“Thanks, Steve.” It’s the second time you thank him in the course of the year.

But what would you do if I went to touch you now? What would you do if they never found us out? What would you do if we never made a sound?

Prom Night, May 1985

The dress you’re wearing is sleek and a lot simpler than some of the more popular styles on the dance floor, but you like it more than you care to admit. You’d just grabbed it off the rack at Macy’s, and beyond that you didn’t want to go all-out for prom. It turns out that your lab partner, Gavin Connelly, needed a date, too. So, you’re here with him, because you knew that if you missed prom, you would probably regret it.

Except, well.

Gavin, stoned out of his fucking mind, is sitting at one of the tables, nursing a cup of punch, looking like he’s two seconds from falling asleep. You’ve taken to making the rounds and saying hi to anyone you can call a ‘friend,’ because you’re tired of just loitering next to him. Something tells you he didn’t want to even be here.

The speakers are playing ‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’ and couples are swaying on the dance floor in a Bonnie Tyler-induced haze. At a loss for people to bother, you wander back over to your date to find his head plastered to the white table cloth. 

You glance to the guy sitting next to him, a kid with glasses who you don’t recognize but who seems to know your date, because he’s just patting Gavin’s back. “Is he okay?”

“Oh, no, he’s dying.” The kid shoots you a sarcastic smile. 

You nod, pressing your tongue hard to the roof of your mouth. “Well, if he wakes up, tell him I’m getting some air.”

Fuck this. Fuck prom. Fuck high school boys.

Your heels, which are killing your feet already, click loudly on the tile hallway floor as you exit the gym. The table where you can check your bag and coat are located at the other end of the hall, where everyone is supposed to enter through the door to the football field.

You can hear voices from the far end of the hall, and Bonnie Tyler’s voice fading out the further you get from the gym. You might never be able to hear that song again without thinking of your ruined slow dance opportunity.

As you pass by, someone coughs off to the left and you turn your head to see Steve Harrington, black tie and all, loitering in the shadows. You stop a few feet from him and squint into the dark.

You can’t believe it. He always seems to show up at the worst times. “What are you doing, skulking around?” 

“I’m not sulking.”

You snort, stepping into the shadows with him. “No, skulk- like, sneaking around?” 

“Well, I didn’t mean to sneak-” he looks over his shoulder at the gym entrance. “I’m just getting some air.”

“Funny,” you murmur. “I was just about to do the same thing.”

He eyes you, a lot like he did a few weeks ago in this same hallway, further up toward the other end of it. He takes in your hair, styled painstakingly to ‘perfection,’ or as close as you could approximate it, and your off-the-rack department store dress. You suddenly feel like you aren’t as pretty as you thought you were at the beginning of the night. 

But then he meets your eye, and all those insecurities fade into the back of your mind. He’s smiling at you, and that can only be a good thing.

“So, uh…” Steve leans back against the wall, his hands in his pockets, “You found someone to take you?”

You press your lips into a tight line. You don’t really want to think about your date right now, but- “Gavin Connelly.”

“Who?”

You laugh, kicking the heel of your shoe against the ground with a soft clack. “Yeah. God, I wish I didn’t know him right now.”

“Why, what’d he do?” Steve sounds perturbed. You look up to find him scowling already.

“Oh, he just ate a pot brownie before he picked me up and passed out at one of the tables.” You finish with a tired giggle, shrugging at Steve as he peers at you with an annoyed expression. “Who did you bring?”

“Kelly Palmer.” 

You know Kelly. She doesn’t say much, but she’s gotten a scholarship to a big art school. “Do you like her?”

“Yeah, she’s nice,” he says mildly. Unconvincingly.

You can understand the subtext. She’s not Nancy. When you look at his face, he seems tortured in the low light coming from down the hall.

“Guess I’m oh-for-two,” Steve adds after a pause. “Last year’s prom, Nance and I didn’t have such a good time, either.”

You nod. It seems like there’s more he wants to say, but he doesn’t. “I’m sorry,” you offer. You don’t know the ins-and-outs of Steve and Nancy’s relationship, aside from watching them suck face in the hallway five paces from you for a year and a half. “Prom sucks. High school sucks. These can’t be the best years of our lives, trust me.”

“Yeah, I hope not.” 

“I just can’t wait to get out of here, you know,” you grumble, allowing your sour mood to come out a little more than normal. It seems like Steve is just really good at getting you to let your guard down. “I’m planning to go to Chicago for college. This is all just… you know, it’s just the starting point. What about you, any big plans?”

“Dunno. I didn’t get accepted to any schools, so I’ll just be getting a job here in town until something better comes along.” Steve shifts, his heel hitting the wall behind him. He looks disappointed when he says, “I think I made too many mistakes.” 

You frown, chewing on your lip. “What do you mean?”

He gives you a heavy look, like he’s gearing up to say something important, something game changing- and then his gaze softens. 

“You’ve got an eyelash.” He gestures to his own eye, like it’ll make you understand exactly where the loose one is on your face.

“Oh.” You falter, lifting your manicured hands and wiping at your undereyes. “Did I get it?”

“No, uh- here, I can-” Steve tentatively reaches forward, and you step toward him to let him touch your face. 

Steve Harrington is touching your face.  

His fingertip brushes your cheekbone, so featherlight you would barely feel it if you weren’t hyper aware of everything that he said or did. His touch glides across your cheek and toward your temple, and then he seems to keep it there, his hand hovering just over your skin.

Reflexively, your hand comes up to rest on his shoulder. You’re inches from Steve’s face, your eyes falling to his lips.

You could kiss him. You could live your fantasy, right now.

Steve’s gaze lingers on your face for a moment, and then he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. He doesn’t say that you look beautiful. He doesn’t say it conditionally, like it’s just for tonight. You are beautiful. Even when you’re crawling on all fours after your binder. Even when you’re crying, and your hair is limp, and you look bedraggled.

“Steve…” you whisper, inching closer to him. 

“STEVE??!”

You jump away from him like he’s burned you, and peek around the hall corner to see Kelly Palmer standing outside the gym looking up and down the hall, searching for him. She looks lost, and sad, like he must have ditched.

She looks an awful lot like you just did, coming out of that gym.

You feel Steve’s hand where it had fallen to your wrist, dragging your attention gently back to him. You take his hand and squeeze it once, giving him a tight smile. 

“You brought her here for a good time,” you say with your bravest smile. “Just don’t pass out at one of the tables on her, okay?”

Don’t be a douche. Don’t be like Logan Sawyer. 

Steve swallows, and gives you a short nod. You think he finally got there.

You give a soft pat to the lapel of his suit jacket. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

He touches your arm one final time before he slips around the corner, just as Kelly turns to go back into the gym. You watch him walk away, and you think to yourself, That’s the last time I chase after Steve Harrington.

Wherever there is, it’s not with you.

Steve loops his arms around Kelly’s waist and lifts her, earning a thrilled squeal as the silver taffeta of her dress glints blue in the light from the gym. You wait until they’ve disappeared back into it before you turn and high-tail it toward the coat check table.

And we kept everything professional, but something’s changed, it’s something I like. They keep watchful eyes on us, so it’s best if we move fast and keep quiet…

Starcourt Mall, June 1985

“Come on, it’s ridiculously hot outside,” your best friend, Shelly, groans as she pulls you along by the wrist. “I can’t believe they only have one ice cream place here.”

“I’m sure they have slushies at the-”

“Ice. Cream.” You know better than to argue with her.

Scoops Ahoy has a novelty nautical theme that makes you want to both laugh and break down in tears when you see it. The PA is playing a cutesy rendition of Drunken Sailor on accordion, and you think that if you keep looking at the striped wallpaper behind the counter, you might get literally seasick. In the mall. In landlocked Indiana. 

Or… is it landlocked if it fronts Lake Michigan? It doesn’t matter. You’ll be in Chicago in two days, anyways.

You let Shelly drag you along until you look towards the front counter, and you see something that nearly makes you trip and face plant into Shelly’s fresh perm.

Even Shelly pauses. “Is that who I think it is?”

It’s something about the stupid little sailor’s cap and shorts, and that he’s so, so pretty in it, you think. It’s also something about how you have the perfect vantage point to watch him try and fail to flirt with the girl that approaches the counter to order. You’re enamored with him. There’s no other way to describe it. 

You have half a mind to run away, after what you promised yourself on prom night over a month ago. You’d done good, you didn’t search for him in the halls, you ignored him in your last couple of class periods with him. You’d even been in the bathroom when his name was called at graduation. 

But, here he is. Steve Harrington, absolutely obliterating his chances of getting a date with the girl ordering a sundae ahead of you. 

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re waiting for. Maybe an invitation? A sign from god that today’s the day that you’ll make a move? Or maybe this is just a test of will.

You stop resisting Shelly’s attempts to drag you along, and straighten your spine. You can do this. Four years’ worth of pining won’t make a difference in whether or not you order a strawberry ice cream cone.

He’s even prettier up close, his rosy cheeks framed by sunkissed, wavy hair. When he sees you he stalls, going a bit wide-eyed and then seeming to realize he’s supposed to do his job. He leans heavily against the counter. “Ahoy, ladies! Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain, Steve Harrington.”

“Uh-huh.” You stare at each other for a long moment. “How much do they pay you to recite that script?”

“Absolutely nothing, I do this for pure enjoyment.” You’re almost sure that he doesn’t. He pauses, a hand poised on his hip. “Too much?”

“I’d dial it back just a smidge. Maybe keep the ahoy and the captain thing and toss the rest.” 

“Noted.” He nods slowly, his eyes fixed on you. “I thought you were going to Chicago?”

“I leave the day after tomorrow,” you shrug. “Still time for me to burn the place down, you know.”

“Well, I’m glad you stopped by,” Steve chuckles. “I could show you where the gas line is, then we’d all be in trouble.”

“Oookay.” Shelly gives you a curious side-eye, and then turns back to Steve. “Well, I’ll have a U.S.S. Butterscotch with a chocolate dipped waffle bowl, if you don’t mind.”

Steve tears his eyes away from you long enough to grin at Shelly. “Coming right up. And for you?”

You freeze, glancing up at the menu. It’s written in an infuriatingly cutesy code-language that you have to decipher. “Um. I’m still deciding.”

“All right, then. Just let me know, when you’re ready.��� 

Steve slips away to make Shelly her sundae, a heaping pile of ice cream and butterscotch syrup that looks like the fast track to a heart attack. You alternate between trying to comprehend the menu and being distracted by Steve in that stupid sailor’s uniform.

The script on the menu may as well be written in a foreign language. Blackbeard’s Delight. Treasure Island Turtle. U.S.S. Sherbet. The sizes are even harder to understand. Fathom. League. Nautical Mile. You don’t have the capacity to decipher it- your eyes are seeing the words, but your mind is traveling back to prom night, and feeling Steve’s finger on your cheek as you gear up to kiss him.

“Are you ready?”

“Mhm…” It takes you a second to zone back into the present moment, where Steve is standing in front of you, on the other side of the counter, waiting to take your order. He waits, with a patient smile on his face, while you blink dumbly at him.

What did you say? What did he say?

“I… um.” You’re sure you look completely out of it. Your eyes flick nervously up at the menu, that you still can’t fucking read. Shelly’s already gone to sit down with her sundae, the traitor.

“It’s kind of hard to understand, isn’t it?” Steve says quietly after a moment, dropping the phony customer service charade. “I hate it. I think we should just be able to say what our favorite ice cream flavor is and be done with it.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, still squinting up at the menu. Blackbeard’s Delight: blackberry swirl with blueberry syrup and a gold doubloon. “The fuck is a doubloon?”

Steve snorts, and reaches under the counter before bringing back a handful of gold foil-covered chocolate coins, which he dumps into your outstretched hand. “You want more? We get them wholesale.”

“I’m good,” you giggle, juggling the chocolate coins before they go cascading to the floor. “I think… I don’t… I don’t understand a thing on that menu.”

“What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?” He leans forward to ask you, like it's a secret. Just between the two of you. His head bent a little to peer at you closely, so close that you can count the freckles on his skin.

You glance over your shoulder. Shelly is seated by the far wall, under a painting of a kraken, giving you an indignant look. When she notices you looking, she mouths an emphatic, ‘LET’S GO!’

“Don’t tell anyone,” you whisper, and Steve affects his gravest expression as he nods. “Strawberry.” 

“A classic,” he grins. “Fan of sprinkles?” 

“I can dig a few sprinkles.”

“Perfect. I think we have something up your alley.” He grabs a scooper out of the bin and twirls it once, just to show off. “Sex on the Beach.” 

“What?” You don’t remember seeing anything about that on the menu.

He glances up to smirk at you before shrugging. “It’s strawberry ice cream with peach syrup. You’ll see.”

You keep an eye on his hands behind the glass partition, watching them put two scoops of strawberry into a medium sized carton. Completely unable to rein in your thoughts before they get away from you, you’re thinking about how good they would feel under your shirt. You follow a treasure map of freckles trailing up his arms, disappearing under the blue sailor’s shirt he wears. You want to kiss every single one of them.

You finally reply, “I guess I have to put my faith in your professional ice cream slinging abilities.” 

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Steve mutters sardonically as he squirts peach syrup across the two scoops of ice cream, giving it a golden sheen. “I’m the king of cream.”

You purse your lips as it takes Steve a second to realize what he just said. When he does, he snaps his head up to meet your eye in horror. 

He opens his mouth to take it back, but you shake your head, holding back laughter. “Don’t ruin it.”

“I think it’s pretty much ruined already.” He turns crimson, blushing down at the half-made sundae as he rapidly shakes yellow sprinkles onto it. “I was doing so good, too.”

“Who says you aren’t still?” You give him a cute smile when he looks up through his lashes at you, still arranging toppings on the sundae. You’re not sure what happened between prom and now to change him so much, but it’s almost as if he���s… goofy. He’s less concerned with appearances, he’s more laid back and willing to make fun of himself. 

You like it a lot. 

You watch him plop two maraschinos onto one ice cream mound, and wedge a candied orange slice into the other, inverted, to look like a setting sun. As he passes it over the counter to you, he says, “Here you go, one Sex on the Beach. On the house.”

“What? No, I couldn’t-”

“I mean it. For overlooking my stupidity,” Steve insists. He gives you a meaningful look when he adds, “A million times over.”

“I’m not overlooking anything when it comes to you, Steve,” you tell him fondly, and drop one of the doubloons into the tip jar. It’s gaudy, gleaming artificially gold in the middle of the crumpled up dollar bills. “Hang onto that. You might be able to cash it in for a kiss someday.”

Steve blinks rapidly, leaning across the counter as you walk away. “After you come back from Chicago, right?”

You look over your shoulder, and you wink at him.

When you finally stop in front of Shelly, and you use your plastic spoon to dig into the adorable sundae that Steve crafted for you, you remember that you’d gone up to the counter with every intention of ignoring Steve and acting like you didn’t even know him.

You winked at Steve Harrington. You said you’d kiss him. You think back to the girl who was so afraid of Steve even noticing her, almost a year ago, and wonder where she went.

You look down at Shelly. She’d graduated a year before you, so she wasn’t there to witness every blunderous interaction you’d had with Steve in school. You never told her how in love you were with him.

Now, she looks up at you coyly. “So. Steve Harrington, huh?”

“Shut up,” you grunt, looking up and out at the food court outside of the Scoops Ahoy storefront. “As if you know everything.”

“Are you gonna try to make something out of that…” she gestures vaguely with her spoon toward the counter, “before school starts?” 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you say honestly, still poking at your sundae. “Anyways, I leave too soon for anything to really happen. What- I screw him tomorrow and then fuck off forever? It’s just wishful thinking, probably.” You finally take a bite of the ice cream, just to punctuate your sentence.

“Hm. Probably. How is that?” Shelly nods at the ice cream in your hand. “Looks pretty.”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You’re being honest. Something about the peach syrup with the strawberry base literally evokes the flavor of a sunset. “They should give him a raise.”

Humming, Shelly stands and takes her half-eaten sundae. She nudges you in the direction of the door. “C’mon. We’ve gotta eat these before the next showing of The Breakfast Club.”

Steve watches you and your friend leave, with the wistful gaze of someone who just watched their greatest opportunity walk away from them. He never knew that it was possible to hate an entire geographic location, but he really wishes Chicago would get blown off the map in the next 24 hours. 

The wooden partition doors slam open, and Robin’s head appears in the window to the kitchen. “The cream king? Do you want me to actually hurl?”

“I said, ‘the king of cream,’” he groans, digging his knuckles into his eye sockets. “Kill me, Robin. Load me into the freezer. Bury me at the fairground.”

“You think you’re valuable enough to displace that much ice cream?” Robin rolls her eyes, and with another loud thwack, her white board appears in the space behind her. “We don’t make anything called Sex on the Beach. This is a family establishment.”

“I made it up.” 

Robin coos, “Aww. Be still my heart. You love her to the point of invention.” 

Steve whirls around. “Love? Who said anything about love?” 

“I did.” Robin uncaps her dry-erase marker and draws a tally mark under the side that reads, you rule.

“Uh, Robin,” Steve snaps, pointing at the board condescendingly. “I think you put that on the wrong side. I fucked it up.”

“Dingus. Please. As much as it makes me gag- and you know I gain immense pleasure from counting how often you screw up- I could practically hear her heart eyes.” She sets the white board down, begrudgingly. “I think you found the only girl alive who’ll find all this-” she waves her hand at him, “endearing. Who was she? Some ex of yours?” 

“If only,” Steve sighs, shaking his head. When he turns back to the counter, his eyes land on the single chocolate coin glinting in the tip jar.

He scoops it up with two fingers and pockets it.

You won’t believe half the things I see inside my head. Wait ‘til you see half the things that haven’t happened yet…

Family Video, March 1986

The air conditioning nearly blasts you backwards into the parking lot. You don’t know why they need it blasting so hard at 7pm, in the middle of March. It’s not like it’s the height of summer- your spring break takes place earlier than the local school’s, but it just means that you get to beat the crowds when you come home to visit your family.

Of course, they love to send you to run errands. You end up picking up the groceries, and the housewares, and, on this occasion, the choices for family movie night. 

This Family Video’s selection isn’t necessarily as extensive as the ones in Chicago, but it’s good enough. You enter the store, and it dumps you directly in front of a cardboard cutout of Phoebe Cates about to flash you. Family friendly entertainment, and all.

The TV in the corner is running the final scene of The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly- Ennio Morricone’s score plays dramatically into the empty store. There’s no one behind the counter currently, so you pull the list of videos your extended family members had all requested. The Breakfast Club. Camelot. The Birds. Pretty general selections for your family, but it seems like you’ll have to hunt them up on your own. 

You’re wandering down the romance aisle, since The Breakfast Club was nowhere on the new releases or comedy shelves, when someone finally emerges from the back room. You see a flash of a head moving toward the front counter from over the top of a rack, and you take it as your chance to ask for help.

“Excuse me? Do you guys have any copies of The Breakfast Club, or-”

You stop short, choking on your words. Steve Harrington turns around to look at you, carrying a stack of VHS tapes perched under his chin, and holding a folded up piece of paper between his teeth.

You stare each other down for a second, before Steve gracefully spits the paper over his shoulder and onto the counter. “Hey, um… long time, no see?”

“I’d say.” You tilt your head. Funny how quickly your eyes will hone in on his lips, like searching for a target every time. “We always seem to run into each other like this. What happened to the ice cream gig?”

“Starcourt burned down,” Steve says, plopping the stack of VHS tapes down on the counter beside the paper he spit out. “Right around the Fourth of July, last summer.”

“So, right after I last saw you?”

Steve smirks to himself before he turns back to you. “Yeah. Like, a week or so after. Did you manage to burn the place down, after all?” 

“I wish.” 

You pause, taking the time to size him up. It’s amazing what the better part of a year will do to someone, inside and out. With a striped shirt and green vest, he looks much more relaxed and casual than he had at Scoops Ahoy. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little darker as they rake over you, in return. 

You’re a little bit desperate to see what’s going on in his head, if it’s anything like what’s happening in yours.

You wish you could say that you tried to seek him out when you got back to town- a year ago, maybe you would have. But you’d pretty much given up on the idea of him, moving up to dating college boys who don’t string you along, who don’t wait until the last minute to finally try their hand at flirting with you. If he ever passed through your mind, it was with the attached hope that he’d found greener pastures than Hawkins, Indiana. Foolishly, you hoped that as long as you told yourself that he’d moved on, it would be true. And then maybe what could have been wouldn’t matter anymore.

You’d stepped back into Hawkins after half a year of college, the graveyard of all hope in your happily ever after, and you hadn’t even thought of Steve Harrington. Except, seeing him now, everything comes flooding back. All the days spent pining over him. All the close brushes you’d had with finally getting the ending you wanted. 

You have to be honest. “You look good, Steve. You always do.”

Steve chuckles, tilting his chin down as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his light wash jeans. “Better without the sailor costume, right?”

“Aww, I liked the sailor costume.” You step closer so you can whisper, “I thought it was sexy.”

Steve peers down his nose at you, drawing himself up to tower above you at his full height. He tries to look unaffected, but you can see his ears glowing pink beneath wisps of golden highlights. “Watch it. You’re gonna give me an ego.”

“We don’t want that, do we?” You unfold the list of movies you’re here to collect, holding it up to him between two fingers. “Got any of these movies?” 

Steve reads the short list, and nods to himself. “I know we have Camelot, but I’m not sure about The Breakfast Club. Let me check in the back?” 

“I’ll be here.”

“All right- don’t get up to any trouble, though. I’ve got my eye on you.” He points at you coolly, feigning an authoritative expression. He tries to hide his smile, but the creases around his eyes give him away. 

“I hope you do.” You try to appear casual as you breeze past him, but you have to fiddle with your jacket collar to hide their shaking. Still, you feel the sweep of his gaze on you like rays of sun on your skin. It frightens you how easily you can fall back into the old back-and-forth routine you established in high school- how he gets you to say things you never meant to voice, but that live in your head effortlessly. 

Steve watches you disappear down the drama aisle before he takes in a huge breath of air and bolts toward the back room. Any and all coolness he was performing disappears like so much smoke. Slamming open the door, he nearly shouts, “Do you have a doubloon?!” 

Robin startles, swinging around in her seat, looking away from her computer screen. “A what? Why are you yelling?”

“A doubloon, a f-fucking-” Steve looks quickly over his shoulder, out the door, and starts hunching over as he whispers, “a chocolate coin. Like one of those ones we had at Scoops, remember?”

“Why do you want a chocolate coin?” Robin squints at him. “Stop crouching like that, you look like Nosferatu.”

Steve hisses through his teeth, and he’s got a frantic edge to his expression that Robin doesn’t like. “Okay- remember that girl, the one who showed up at Scoops that time, and you gave me my one and only ‘You Rule’ tally?” 

“No.”

“Great. Well, she’s here, and she told me if I gave her one of those chocolate coins she’d kiss me.” Steve shoves his hands through his hair, mussing up the already disheveled style. “Please, Rob, I can’t let her get away again. I’ve done it, like, a thousand times already.” 

“Okay, Romeo,” Robin humors him, turning around in her seat. “So you’re saying this babe, who I very much don’t remember because you always struck out while we worked at Scoops, told you that if you bribed her with chocolate she’d kiss you?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t think she was maybe joking?” 

Steve opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water. Truthfully, he hadn’t. He’d overlooked the idea that, after everything that had happened between you, you might just be joking about kissing him. 

“You know you could use your actual charm to get a girl to kiss you?” Robin dips her chin, shaking her head like it’s obvious.

Steve frowns. As if he hasn’t already tried that. “Do you have any chocolate coins or not?”

Robin sighs exasperatedly. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of those things since we worked at Scoops. Sorry, bud. You’re out of luck.” 

“FUCK!” Steve’s hand smacks the door as he heads out of the back room, making Robin scowl after him. She shakes her head as she turns back to her work.

Back out on the sales floor, the credits to The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly have finished, and white noise fills the empty space. Steve turns in a circle by the checkout counter, searching for you among the aisles.

Where did you disappear to, this time? A part of him dreads the answer. He was the one who fucked everything up- he shouldn’t have chickened out when he had the chance. He should have asked you to that fucking prom, but he was too scared to commit after what happened with Nancy. 

If this is his last chance, he needs to make it count. 

He coughs into the dead air, and says, “Looks like we’re all out of The Breakfast Club.” There’s a disconcerting amount of silence that leaves him cold, almost certain that you’ve left already, for the last time.

Then, you appear from behind the red curtain to the adult videos section.

Oh.  

“Everything okay?” you ask sweetly as you approach, holding a couple tapes that you must have picked up while you shopped around. “I heard some yelling back there.” 

“Oh, yeah. Just, uh… shelving issues.” Steve backs his way behind the counter. He repeats, “Sorry, I couldn’t find the movie for you.”

“I heard. I’m not worried about it.” You plop the tapes that you did find on the counter. “It was nice of you to look for me. Thanks, Steve.”

“Always.” Steve starts scanning your tapes; it looks like you managed to find the other films on your list, along with one for yourself. From the adult section. 

You watch in amusement as you can see the cogs visibly turning in Steve’s head, while he stares at the front of the porn video you picked. Spring Break Sex Party II. Not that you’d ever seen the first one, but the cover of this one was suggestive enough- a bunch of drunk people naked on a beach, lying in a great big pile. Looks like fun, in your opinion.

You always love seeing Steve blush. The prettiest shade of pink colors his cheeks before he glances up at you. “Should I ask…?”

“It’s the closest thing to getting a Sex on the Beach, here.” 

Steve chokes, and he scrambles for a response to that. “I- I was gonna ask for an I.D.”

“You know we’re the same age,” you deadpan.

“Y-yeah. I, uh- I know… I know that.” He hangs his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly shut.

You wonder if this is what you looked like to him, that time in the hallway when he loitered by the fountain to talk to you. “Breathe, Steve.”

A blast of laughter leaves his mouth before he can swallow it. If only you knew how hard it actually is, to act like he’s not just fucking melting right in front of you. When he hangs on every word you say, and every other thought he has is about how badly he wants to tell Robin to get lost and take you in the back room. You don’t know how much he’s fixating on your curves and how they’d feel against him, how much he wants to taste every inch of your body. He’s practically vibrating in place with all his pent up frustration, and you’re here buying porn, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Steve clears his throat, shakes his head. Christ. “Okay, well. You know that this is a sale item, it’s not for rent. You can return it within 10 days as long as the packaging hasn’t been opened.”

“I know.”

“Okay.” He’s still nodding as he puts it into the bag with the rest of your rentals. 

“Are you always this affected by people buying from the adult section?” you ask mildly. 

“Nah, usually I don’t care,” he replies without thinking. 

“Good to know that you care about my taste in pornography,” you tell him with the most shit eating grin on your face, taking the bag from him. “I’m flattered.”

He makes a clumsy noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. He’s right back to working at Scoops Ahoy, fumbling every attempt at flirting, losing his cool at the sight of a pretty girl. It’s… humbling.

He’s sure Robin would say that he can always use more humility.

“It was good to see you again, Steve.” And just like that, you’re sand slipping through the cracks in his fingers. 

Desperately, he tries to block the flow, closing his fingers around you in an attempt to keep you in his grasp. “Do you- uh-” He lurches forward, white-knuckling the counter like his life depends on it. You turn back towards him, an eyebrow raised at his sudden outburst. 

You’re back in the school hallway, senior year. Crying over Logan Sawyer. Harrington is up against the wall by the drinking fountain. You want him to just say the words and ask you to prom.

“I mean… if you have the time, while you’re in town… do you want to go for a cup of coffee? With me?”

“Oh, Steve.” You sigh, and it’s the most heartbreaking noise he’s ever heard in his life. Soft sand, falling through his fingers, disappearing back the way you came. He already dreads your answer before it comes. “I wish… you know, if I had come in here and met you about a week ago, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. But I have to catch the train back to Chicago tomorrow. My break’s almost up.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “I’m just glad that you didn’t completely miss me, at least.”

“Right, of course.” Steve smiles back at you, feeling more like an idiot the longer this drags on. He’s like Sisyphus rolling that rock up the fucking hill. “I… I’m glad I got to see you, too. Maybe next time.” 

Oh, it hurts. It hurts way more than you thought it would, to have to turn Steve down- after all the years pining for him through high school, after the time you turned him away when he would have kissed you. You think about kissing him, now. He would let you do it- he’s asking you out, and he looks so sad that you’re saying no.

You could. But wouldn’t it make saying goodbye this time even harder than it already is?

“Yeah. Maybe next time,” you tell him. You don’t want this to hurt more than it does. You truly hope there’s a next time, another year down the line when you run into him over winter break. Maybe you’ll find him at the Radio Shack. 

Steve watches you leave, once again. Fumbling his chance, again. When the door swings shut behind you, Steve bends at the waist and drops his head against the countertop. 

Typical Harrington. Late to the party, miss the girl.

“Well. That was… really painful to listen to.” Robin emerges from behind one of the shelves, crossing her arms. Gently, she adds, “On the bright side, I don’t think the chocolate coin would have mattered.”

Steve picks his head up, and he thwacks his forehead back down onto the counter.

And again.

And again.

And I can see you being my addiction, you can see me as a secret mission. Hide away, and I will start behaving myself…

Sur La Table Restaurant, Chicago, April 1991

You shake your umbrella out as you step into the warm foyer of, quite possibly, the most upscale restaurant you’ve ever set foot in. The carpet is deep, blood red, the walls a dark chestnut wood. The white covered tables are each spotlit within the otherwise dark dining room, and the atmosphere is flavored by soft piano and the quiet din of hushed voices. 

You had been hesitant to accept Theo’s invitation to dinner- he seemed too stuck up for your taste, but when Shelly introduced you to him, you had to admit that the name of the restaurant piqued your interest. Sur La Table. Chicago’s premiere Michelin Star restaurant. 

As you hand your umbrella over to the coat check clerk, you’re greeted by a smiling hostess. “What’s the name for the reservation?”

“Um… Theo Bowman. I believe he’s already here?”

“Yes, ma’am. Right this way.” 

Theo stands as you’re shown to the table. Tall, with dark hair and a wide smile, he reminds you of someone you knew once, but you just can’t seem to place it. Then, when he towers over you to shake your hand, standing far closer than necessary, you’re able to pick it out from the recesses of your mind.

Logan Sawyer.  

“You look nice,” Theo says pleasantly, and you chalk up your initial comparison to nerves, on your part. You don’t often let friends set you up on dates, so you’re a little bit out of your element as it is.

As you go to sit down, you admit, “I was so glad when you picked this place, I’ve always wanted to eat here, since I moved to Chicago.” 

“It’s not the nicest place I’ve been,” Theo shrugs, taking the seat across from you.

Your smile falters, for a second. “Oh, no?” The water has already been brought to the table, you guess while he was waiting for you. You take a long drink.

“Nah, I’ve been to Le Bernardin, in New York. That’s fine dining.” Theo waves his hand at the upscale dining room. “This is… okay.”

“I see.” You lift your menu, hoping that he’ll do the same.

“Yeah, New York is so much nicer than Chicago, in my opinion,” Theo continues, fiddling with his napkin as he talks. “There’s a lot more to do. Have you ever been?”

You hope this is just his nerves talking. “No.” 

Theo keeps talking as you stare at the menu in front of you, at a loss. It’s an a la carte menu, clearly, but extensive and all in french. Salade de poires pochées. Coquilles Saint-Jacques Gratineés. Filet au poivre vert. You’re scrutinizing the fine print of what all the dishes include when your waiter steps up to the table. You know when it happens, because Theo finally stops blathering about New York. 

You break your eyes away from the menu to glance at the server’s waistline, at eye level with you. He wears a crisply pressed suit and tie, his hands clasped in front of his belt. 

“Good evening sir, ma’am,” the server says in a hushed tone, to keep the volume of the dining room down. “Welcome to Sur La Table. I’m Steven, I’ll be serving you this evening. Before we begin, are there any questions about the menu?”

You peer up into the darkness to try to see Steven’s face. He’s standing just outside of the spotlight over the table, only able to be dimly lit from the indirect light reflecting from the tablecloth. Once your eyes adjust, they lock onto a pair of familiar hazel ones.

Oh my fucking god.

It’s got to be fate, or kismet, or some force of nature that keeps bringing you together like this. Steve Harrington’s face hasn’t changed in five years. Maybe he looks just slightly older, a little more filled out in his suit and tie. His hair is a bit shorter at the back but still that same shade of golden brown, neatly groomed and tidy for the formal atmosphere- but you can see it being tousled on his off days, still flopping across his eyes in waves. And those are the same lips you dreamt about kissing, the same eyes you admired in the school hallway, the same nose that you always wanted to grind o-

“No, I think we’re ready to order,” Theo announces, louder than necessary. You throw your gaze at him, your eyebrows raising despite your best efforts to remain calm. 

Is he really going to order for you? Just like that?

“Well, I was going to ask-” you begin, wanting to get a little more specification on how the filet is made, when Theo cuts you off.

“It’s okay, I speak French,” he insists. Not that it makes a difference to what your question was.

You press your lips together in irritation and glance at Steve, who looks back at you stoically. You wonder if he recognizes you like you do him- it’s been long enough, and you’re sure that you look a bit different than you did the last time you saw him. And then you notice the creases around his eyes.

He’s playing it off well enough, sure. But Steve is doing that same look that he did there in the Family Video five years ago, trying to pretend that he’s not affected by you, swallowing back his smile. He sends you a knowing look that says, What a fucking douchebag, am I right?

Suddenly, this date just got way more entertaining. You give Steve a minute roll of your eyes, only enough for him to notice. Tell me about it.

“We’ll start with the Bordeaux,” Theo is already reciting to Steve as you settle back in your seat. Steve pulls a little notepad out of his jacket pocket and begins writing. “For an appetizer, the coquilles. Then for the main, I’ll have the canard montmorency, and she’ll have the mignons de veau.” 

You watch Steve’s hand pause as he’s writing, and he looks to you. He raises his eyebrow, saying everything he needs to with the one gesture. Is that what you really want? “The veal?”

“No,” you say, digging your thumbnail into your palm, where it rests on your lap. “Actually, I wanted to ask about the filet. What brandy is the sauce made with?” 

Steve smiles, leaning a little bit closer to you. “We use Courvoisier.”

“Great. I’ll have that, please.” 

Steve nods encouragingly at you. As he jots down the order, he says, “Wonderful. I’ll get this to the kitchen for you, but before I can bring you the wine, I’ll just need to see the lady’s I.D.”

“Are you serious?” Theo snaps. 

“It’s all right,” you murmur, hiding your face as you dip your head to fish your I.D. out of your clutch. “He’s just doing his job. Right, Steven?”

Steve meets your eye as he takes the card from your hand. “You can never be too careful.” You watch him smirk as he looks over your I.D., his eyes lingering on your name for a second before he hands it back to you. If there was any doubt in his mind that you are who he thought, it’s gone now. “Interesting. We’re the same age.”

You laugh. Probably a little louder than is respectable, but you can’t help it. Leave it to Steve Harrington to remind you of the time you bought porn from him, while you’re on a date. 

You watch Steve write something else on his notepad, and rip the page out before folding it up. He tucks his notepad into his pocket as he says, “I’ll get this started for you. I hope you enjoy your evening.”

“Thank you, Steven,” you offer just as he starts to walk away. 

Steve shoots you a sideways glance. “Always.”

Your heartbeat pounds in your chest as you turn back to your date. Theo looks disgruntled, but he just lifts his water to his lips.

“So,” you begin, “what do you do?”

“Marketing manager,” Theo says, with a click of his tongue. “For Bowman Wine & Spirits.”

“Oh,” you nod. “No relation, I suppose?”

“My father owns the company.”

“Right.” God, help me. 

Across the dining room, Steve watches you over his shoulder. His jaw sets as he sees you, the girl of his literal dreams, sitting across from some idiot who doesn’t even know that you don’t order for your date without asking her what she wants first, you fucking weasel. 

That’s all right. You seem to have the situation under control, for now. Steve watches you calmly sip your water, staring at your date but not listening to a thing he’s saying. 

Steve sighs. He’s never been much of a schemer, but he’ll just make sure that you won’t leave with this guy if you don’t want to.

His fingers brush the note in his pocket, and he pinches it just as he passes the front of house manager, Taryn. Without breaking stride, he slips the note into her hand, heading toward the back hallway and down to the wine cellar.

As Steve passes by, Taryn unfolds the note he slips her, and raises one eyebrow at the request he’s written.

I can see you in your suit and your necktie, pass me a note saying, “Meet me tonight.” Then we kissed and you know I won’t ever tell…

Overall, you enjoy Sur La Table immensely. The restaurant itself, anyways. The wine is wonderful. The atmosphere is great. The food is exquisite. 

You’re about to jump the waiter’s bones. 

Theo got his second wind sometime after the scallops arrived, and you think he hasn’t paused for breath since. You’ve been calmly eating your food, while Theo tells you literally everything about himself. It’s the best case scenario you can see happening on this date. You enjoy the food, mumble a non-committal acknowledgement now and then, and Theo entertains himself with his own voice the rest of the time. 

You’re gonna kill Shelly for setting you up with him, but that’s tomorrow’s problem. 

Right now, you’re focused on finishing your glass of wine while he talks about camping, of all things. 

“So we got up into the Rockies,” he’s telling you, gesturing with his hands like it’ll make you more engaged. “We ended up freezing our keisters off. No joke, I have frostbite scars.”

“That’s, um… that sounds like fun.”

“No, are you listening? I mean, it was terrible. We couldn’t move for, like, two days. And when the snow stopped we were so tired and cold, we almost died.”  

You knock back the rest of your wine with one gulp, and say with a sticky voice, “Wow. A near death experience must have been really scary, I’m sorry.”

Theo frowns. “No- I mean… It wasn’t… it wasn’t near death-”

“You just said-”

“It was more like a serious inconvenience, you know. But we pulled through. I wasn’t scared. A little snow isn’t gonna kill me,” he laughs incredulously. “It was just-”

Theo stops as Steve approaches the table. You catch him giving the back of Theo’s head the most murderous look imaginable before slowing to a stop and plastering an easy customer service smile in its place. “How did you find everything this evening?”

“It was fine.”

“The food was wonderful,” you tell Steve reassuringly. Your date, on the other hand…

“Yeeeah, could we get the check, please?” Theo asks, finally looking up at Steve. 

You watch Steve’s brow twitch, such a small movement you could have imagined it. “Certainly. But first-” from behind his back, he reveals two white gift boxes and places them on the table in front of you and your date, respectively. “We like to give each of our customers a signature chocolate truffle, as a token of our appreciation.”

Everything in you aches. “Oh, that’s nice. Thank you so much.” You look down at the box in adoration, thinking for a second that it might be the only time in your life that Steve Harrington gives you something similar to a ring box. 

“I’ll be sure to have our hostess come through with the check,” Steve adds delicately, making a gracious exit. His finger just slightly brushes your arm as he passes by- a dangerous move, but one that nearly electrifies your entire body at the single touch. You shiver as he says, “Have a lovely night.”

You watch Steve walk away from you, and your heart sinks into your stomach. You want to chase after him. The 18 year old you, who almost kissed him on prom night, is trying to claw its way out of your skin and bolt after him. 

When Steve disappears from view, you have nowhere to look but at your date. Theo opens the white box in front of him and pops a neapolitan colored truffle into his mouth. “Well, that was underwhelming.”

You don’t want to watch him chewing anymore, like a cow gnawing on grass. You sigh, running a frustrated hand across your forehead, and flip open the box in front of you. The top of it rears up like a clam shell, and you freeze, your fingertips suddenly sticking to the sweat beading on your brow.

You don’t have a neapolitan truffle- you have a single golden chocolate coin. You stare at it in shock for a second before you even notice the note pasted to the lid of the box. 

Meet me outside- the door past the bathrooms. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat yours?” Theo asks suddenly, as the hostess approaches holding the check. 

Your eyes snap up just as your heart shoots back up into your chest. “I think I’m gonna save it for later.” You flash him a smile as you close the box swiftly and shove it into your clutch. “Do you mind if I hit the bathroom real quick?”

“No, go ahead. I’ve got it.” Honestly, it’s the kindest thing he’s done for you all night. You might have to thank him some day. 

Once you’re out of your seat, you chase after Steve like a shot. Around a block of tables and into a tiled corridor, you walk past the kitchen doorway just as another server comes backing out, carrying a tray of dishes. 

There’s a door at the end of the hall, labeled exit. You never actually thought you’d be escaping a bad date through the back door; the notion was too clichéed, you thought that sort of thing only happened in movies. But you find yourself nearly running past the men’s and women’s bathrooms, until your hands slam down on the bar of the back door and thrust it open into the wind. 

The rain has picked up, more of a downpour than a light drizzle now. In your haste, you’d left your umbrella and coat with the coat check. Not that it would have been at all discrete if you’d gone to collect it before running towards the bathrooms. 

The door clicks shut behind you, and you gaze around in the dark. The alley behind the restaurant is only partially lit by a yellow street lamp, making it even more difficult to find him than it was in the dining room. “Steve?”  

You catch movement in the corner of your eye, and turn in the direction of the street lamp. Steve stands up from where he’d been sitting on an overturned crate- apparently the only accommodations the restaurant staff gets during a smoke break. The rain has already soaked into his hair, messing up the tidy style and turning it stringy, falling across his forehead, shining gold in the yellow light. He takes one last puff of the cigarette in his mouth before tossing it into the gutter, and he looks at you. 

He sees you. And it’s all you’ve wanted since the day he first walked into your geography class, freshman year of high school. There’s been some kind of a magnetic pull between you two for years. Something keeps bringing you together, it’s just never been the right time. Until now. 

Finally, you’re running towards him, and Steve’s arms finally come around you, pulling you against his body. Your hands find the back of his neck just in time for his lips to crash against yours. 

You had lost count of the amount of times you watched him kiss other girls in the hallway in high school- not just Nancy, but any and every girl he attached himself to (for a while, it seemed like he couldn’t make up his mind who he was dating at any given moment). All you knew was that it was never you, and you wanted it to be so desperately that it consumed your mind half the time. He looked like a good kisser, and you fantasized about going up to him and testing that theory for yourself.

But you never expected that his lips would slide over yours with an urgency that you could feel through to your very core, probably even more desperate for your kiss than you are for his. Steve’s fingertips press into your body through the thin fabric of your dress, holding you firmly to him like he’s afraid you might disappear on him again if he doesn’t absorb you completely. Your mouth opens with a soft gasp, and Steve’s tongue against yours tastes like tobacco. 

It happens so fast that you can’t even think- and you don’t really want to. You’re tired of thinking everything through, finding reasons upon reasons why it’s not a good time, why it’s a bad idea, why it won’t work. He moans into you, grabbing the side of your face as he stumbles with you to the wall, pressing you up against the side of the brick building. 

You meet his moan with a whimper of your own as his hand slides down over the curve of your ass, and he hikes up the skirt of your dress to grab at your skin with abandon. There’s a ferocity in Steve’s kiss that you don’t know what to do with, like he’s trying to stake a claim to you right there in the rain, with no one around to see it happen but the moths in the street light overhead. Not that he needs to- he’s already got you. You already chose him. 

Steve gives you room to breathe with a soft sigh, his forehead resting against yours. “Been wanting to do that since high school,” he admits, just loud enough for you to hear, before pressing a featherlight kiss just beside your mouth, and again to your cheek.

“Y-you fffucking-?” you gasp when he latches his lips around a sweet spot on your neck and sucks. “I had such a huge crush on you, Steve.”

“I know. I- I should have- I should…” Steve drops his head against your shoulder and groans when your nails rake against his scalp. “Fuck.”  

He grinds his hips up against yours, biting your lip as the hard length of his cock presses up against your core. “Gonna fuck me in this alleyway, Harrington?” 

“I’m seriously considering it,” he growls into your ear. His lips find yours again with a passion, his hand holding your jaw still. A hot breath escapes him, pouring over your skin and making you shiver. You’re lightheaded, so close to just letting him do it, too, when the back door of the restaurant swings open. 

Steve still takes a second to pull away, a little too absorbed in kissing you to really care who sees him do it. If he had his way, he’d have everyone see that you’re his- that you belong with him, and have for a long time. He finally glances over his shoulder to see one of the cooks, Liam, walking off in the direction of the employee parking lot.

“Where did you get the fucking doubloon?” you whisper into his ear, sounding so fucking adorable that Steve can’t help the lovesick look he gives you. 

He brushes his nose against yours. “I sent my manager on a treasure hunt.” You giggle, pressing your forehead up against his, and he can’t help but chuckle along with you. “I wanted to give you one at Family Video, that time.”

“I know,” you say, and he pulls back to look at your face. “I heard you yelling at your coworker in the back room.” 

Steve snickers and turns red with embarrassment, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You run your fingers through his rain-soaked hair, a content smile on your face as you feel him grin against your skin and shake with laughter. “Take me home, Steve.”

You don’t have to ask him twice.

What would you do, baby, if you only knew? That I can see you throw your jacket on the floor, I can see you make me want you even more…

The drive to Steve’s apartment downtown is made with light conversation and the heavy, heavy weight of his hand on your thigh, creeping up further with each mile. But aside from the implication of sex hanging in the air, it’s as easy as breathing, chatting about the night with him. Shitting on Theo.

“Did you notice the way he said coquilles,” Steve murmurs to you at a red light. “I thought he was gagging on something. He was just trying to impress you, you know.”

You grunt. Could’ve tried a little harder. “He didn’t even like them. He said he didn’t like shellfish,” you laugh in return as you lace your fingers through Steve’s. “Why the fuck would you order scallops, then?”

“The price.”

“The price.”  

It’s sweet, talking to him all the way to his apartment building, just catching up like old friends. He tells you that he’s going to culinary school now, and he’s been working at the restaurant for a little over a year, just to pay the bills.

“Culinary school? Really?” you say, with a note of awe in your voice. 

“Turns out I’m really fucking good at cooking,” Steve chuckles. “Who’d have thought? Maybe someday I’ll stop waiting tables and work back there in the kitchen.”

“I can see it,” you tell him softly. “I can see you being the world’s best chef. Three stars and everything.”

He scoffs, but a pink blush creeps up the back of his neck. “You have too much faith in me.” 

“Those are fighting words, Harrington.” You wag your finger at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?”

“You just want me to cook you something,” Steve tuts.

“Absolutely, I do.” You consider him for a moment, in the passing light of a streetlamp. “Am I that transparent?”

Steve tilts his head to eye you meaningfully, and he smirks. “Always have been, honey.” His thumb rubs a little circle on your thigh that has you squirming in your seat.

The first thing you see of Steve’s apartment is the kitchen, and beyond that the dormant living room, but you don’t get that far before you’re sidetracked. Steve throws his keys onto a drop station by the door, and pins you up against the refrigerator before you can even think to ask where to put your shoes.

Your clothes are still damp, your hair still pasted to your clammy skin. Steve’s lips are attacking yours and his hands are grabbing at everything he can touch, but it’s still not enough. He’s not able to feel all of you at once, and it’s driving him insane with every passing moment.

Steve roughly yanks his suit jacket off, throwing it onto the tile floor beside the kitchen island. “Lay down.” 

“What?” you whisper to him as he kisses your neck, guiding you away from the side of the fridge. “Here?” 

“Right here,” Steve states, not joking in the slightest. You wobble on your feet as you kick off your heels, but his hands on your hips keep you steady. “Been waiting too long for this- can’t wait anymore.”

“I- wwhuh-?” you gasp as Steve kneels in front of you, and your knees buckle involuntarily as he lays you down across his discarded jacket. Your hands grab his shoulders as you tumble backward, taking him with you. 

He face-plants into your stomach with a noisy, “Oof.” Cackling, you run your fingers through his damp hair, as he laughs and shoves his blushing face further against your torso. Steve litters your stomach with kisses, giggling against you with a note of nervous energy. He’s adorable.

You pet your fingers down the side of his face and he leans into the touch. “Can’t even wait long enough to take me to the bedroom?”

“Well, I would have fucked you in the alley,” Steve points out as his fingers breach the hem of your skirt and find your panties. He tugs as he says, “Be thankful I even got you home.” 

Your cheeks burn hot. You fidget, trying to press your thighs together to abate the throbbing ache between them. “Careful, baby. You’re starting to sound desperate.”

Steve pauses, his hazel eyes lighting up when they lock on yours. “Call me that again,” he requests, pressing a kiss to your ankle as he pulls your panties off your feet. He tosses them over his shoulder, but you don’t see where they land as he continues peppering kisses down your calf.

You hold his gaze. “Baby?” His eyes flutter, his lips parting as they drag up toward your knee. “You like when I call you that?”

“I like when you call me anything,” Steve admits. “But as long as you call me that, it means I’m yours.”

Your breath stutters in your chest. Steve Harrington is yours. It doesn’t matter if it’s just for tonight- what matters is that you have him now, and he wants you just as badly.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” he murmurs quietly against your skin, his voice crackling with brimming need. He’s flushed, his cheeks pink and his hair drying in tousled waves over his forehead the longer he drags this out. 

Nodding your head, you reach down to lace your fingers through his, where they’re bunching your skirt up around your hips. “Yes, Steve.” Always have been.  

He turns his head and sucks a spot on your calf, just below your knee, resting your ankle over his shoulder. Still, despite your desperation, you nervously keep your thighs pinched together.

Steve tuts, “C’mon, baby, you’ve gotta spread your legs for me. You wanna let me see that pretty pussy, right?” 

Still clammy and cold with rain, the air on your exposed skin makes you shiver almost as much as his sweeping hands do when they gently part your thighs. You let go, let him take control as you still and keep your eyes focused on his face, because looking anywhere else would remind you that this is real, and not a dream.

Steve sighs, “There she is. Y’gonna let me taste you, sweetheart?” He bats his pretty eyes at you in a way that makes your heart stop dead in your chest. He can’t keep his mouth off of you, even for a moment, his lips and slight stubble dragging across your skin as he says, “Been wanting to forever, you won’t even believe-”

“Please, Steve,” you start to beg before he even finishes his sentence. “Please, my god, I- I just- I just want you so much-”

“Sh-sh-sh-shh.” His tongue licks wet and hot against your inner thigh before he whispers, “I’ve got you, baby. M’not going anywhere, I’m staying right here ‘til you cum.”

You’re instantly hot all over, your blood fucking boiling beneath your skin and your wet dinner dress. Steve’s fingers dig into the meat of your thighs as he yanks you toward his face, the fabric of his jacket beneath you audibly zipping along the kitchen floor. 

Steve dips his head, and his mouth closes over your cunt right at the same moment that yours falls open with a moan that won’t come out, because you’ve suddenly forgotten how to breathe. The noise stalls right at the beginning- your lungs stop working and you can’t seem to get them to start again, because Steve’s tongue is everywhere, dripping wet and gentle on skin that’s way too sensitive to handle it right now. Your hips try to jerk away from him in resistance, but he slams his hand down on them, holding you hard and still against the tile floor, his shoulders pushed up against the backs of your thighs to keep them open. 

Steve takes a break just long enough to grin evilly up at you, because he’s been waiting for five years to tell you to, “Breathe, sweetheart.”

“Fffffuck,” you manage to spit out finally, your voice cracking on the word like it didn’t even really want to put in the work to make it happen. Your breath comes back into your lungs all at once, rapid firing with a dozen moans for punctuation. Steve’s lips quirk against you, and he rumbles a noise of satisfaction against your pussy that makes you jolt in his hold again. “Steve…”

He pulls off of you with a slow, slow stroke of his tongue over your clit, making you whimper high and tight in your throat. “That’s it, baby,” Steve whispers, his breath fanning across your slick cunt, his left hand leaving your hip so that he can drag his knuckles teasingly through your swollen folds. “Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels so right.”

Two long fingers sink into you with ease, stirring the need in you to have him just simply destroy you. You moan loud, your hand shooting out and wrapping around the leg of a bar stool for the kitchen island beside you. 

“Poor thing’s just so sensitive, huh?” Your head arches backwards against the floor, your pussy clenching tight around his fingers as he curves them with practiced accuracy. Steve’s voice is a deep murmur, distant thunder rolling over your nerves, “Relax for me, honey. You’ve waited long enough, just let it happen. Let me give you what you want.”

His lips shine when you look down at him, your hand reaching to run through his hair. Stifling a whine that threatens to come out when he kisses your clit and bends his fingers within you, you stutter out, “J-just want… I- ha-ah! Just want you.”  

Steve purrs. “I know.” The crisp white fabric of his shirt scrapes against your thighs, almost rough in comparison to his tongue flat on your pussy. You can hear the wet, salacious sound of his fingers pumping into you, pulling you toward the edge of oblivion. He hisses through his teeth, shaking his head slightly. “God, I’m so fuckin’ lucky.”

“Y-you-?” you manage a laugh, scraping your nails along his scalp lightly. “You’re lucky? You have n-no… fffucking idea-” You cut off with a sob when Steve wraps his lips around your clit, sucking long and hard enough that your leg twitches, your heel dragging up the back of his pristine white blouse. Your breathing picks up just as all your muscles lock down tight. “Jesus Christ-”  

“There you go,” Steve praises as your orgasm shakes your body, your hand gripping his hair so hard that he groans softly into your damp skin. He doesn’t stop moving his fingers, lewd wet noises picking up and echoing through the quiet kitchen. “That’s a good girl. Mmm , felt so nice to let go, didn’t it?”

You don’t know if he really wants you to answer that- you’re still twitching, coming down from your high as he pulls his fingers from your spasming cunt and sucks them into his mouth. The pause gives you a gentle reprieve, sinking back onto his suit jacket beneath you. Then, his mouth finds your pussy again, his tongue delving deep into your entrance and laving up to your sensitive clit. 

You gasp, throwing your hands down into his hair. “Steve-?!”

He moans in response. “Just needed to taste you some more, honey. Taste so fuckin’ sweet, I can’t get enough.” Steve relents, crawling up your body to hover his face over yours. “Still wanna see the bedroom?”

You nod excitedly, your hands finding his smiling face and stroking the hair away from his eyes. With a gentle kiss of his wet lips to yours, Steve gathers your still-wrecked body into his arms and carries you into his bedroom. 

He’s struck by how blissful you are as he sets you down on his bed, so soft and inviting. He encourages your arms up, his hands finding the zipper of your wet dress and finally, finally, pulling it over your head so that he can see you. All your curves and edges on display for him, after all this time imagining what he couldn’t see with the naked eye. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Steve repeats what he told you all those years ago at prom- he meant it then, and he means it now. Maybe even more this time, now that he’s not a stupid teenager, now that he finally has his head on his shoulders. 

You shiver against him when he unclips your bra- black lace that matches the underwear sitting in his entryway. A possessive part of him rears up, knowing that you’d worn them to a date with some asshole who couldn’t treat you right, even for one hour of the guy’s miserable life. Steve dips his head and kisses your breast, so much softer now than he was before, feeling your heartbeat against his lips.

“Hey.” You gently tug him by his tie, loosening it and his collar. You look into his eyes, and his heart melts. “Where’d you go just now, sailor?”

Steve blushes, his eyes flicking down as you remove his tie and start unbuttoning his blouse. “Just thinking...” he trails off, eyeing you thoughtfully. “Just thinking I could have missed you again if I wasn’t careful.”

“Mmm,” you hum, your hands smoothing up his chest and over his shoulders to get his shirt off of him. It drops to the floor with a whisper. “I don’t think so. I think this was meant to happen, eventually.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You scrunch your nose cutely, in a way that makes Steve’s pants tighten even more uncomfortably across his hips. “We’ve run into each other too many fuckin’ times, baby. Karma’s on our side.”

He laughs. “Karma.” He shakes his head as he undoes his belt.

You quirk your brow at him as your hands fiddle with the fly of his suit pants. “Don’t believe me?” 

Steve grunts, shifting to lean over you. “I’ll believe anything you say when you’re taking my pants off, honey. I’m easy that way.”

Your nails rake through the hair on his chest- you can’t keep your hands off of him now that they’ve got him. You trace over two blotchy scars, one on either side of his torso that mirror each other. “What happened here?”

He blows a puff of air out of his mouth, rounding his cheeks as he shrugs. “Some… animals decided I looked really tasty, at one point. I know, they aren’t very pretty.”

Steve’s brushing over it like it’s nothing. You search his face, and you decide to do the same. “Actually, I think it’s kind of hot.” You drag your hand up to lay flat over his chest. You whisper conspiratorially, “Plus, I think you look really tasty, too.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow. “Y’gonna bite me about it?”

“Probably.” You wink. “Most likely.”

Your gaze falls indiscreetly to his cock, hard and flushed, glistening with precum and curving up toward his stomach. Girls talk, especially when they’re all trying to one-up each other; you knew that he was big. You’d heard the rumors. You’d seen him wearing those tight fucking jeans all the time, and you didn’t have to have much of an imagination to figure it out.

Still. It’s… a little overwhelming. You reach out a tentative hand, lightly wrapping your fingers around his base. They barely meet. Jesus Christ.

He groans, and kisses you until you can’t speak, resting his weight on top of you until you sink gleefully into the mattress. There’s a smile on your lips that transfers onto his, happiness and ease still flowing between you even as he grinds his hips up against yours. 

“Ready?” Steve murmurs softly into your mouth, stealing your breath when you feel his cock slide through your folds, hot and fat.  

“Dunno,” you tell him teasingly, but there’s an edge of reason to your words. Your hips squirm and you feel him even worse, slippery with your arousal. You whine. “I think you might kill me with that thing, Harrington.”

“I’ll go slow,” he whispers, hoarse in the back of his throat, his voice already shaking. “I’ll make sure you feel every bit of it, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you agree as you reach to line him up properly. “I’m all yours.”

Steve gives a relieved sigh as he slides into you, his head falling heavily to your shoulder. His cock aches, his torso shaking as he tries to steady himself. “Oh my god.”

“Baby,” you coo, choking on a moan when he bottoms out. He’s so thick- your nails dig into his shoulder blades as you try to remember how to breathe. It’s certainly a big stretch to try to fit him, but you can’t help wanting more just as soon as he comes to a stop. You can feel him trying to hold steady, holding himself back as though it’s the hardest thing in the world for him to do. 

Because it is. You can’t see it, the way that his brow is furrowed in concentration, his eyes screwed shut. He didn’t know it would be like this- that he’d be in danger of blowing it just as soon as he started. 

Your heel digs into his ass, and he doesn’t know if you do it purposefully, but he almost whimpers.  

You take a shuddering breath. “Please- please move, Steve, I can’t take it.”

Oh, you can’t take it? “You know what,” Steve says with a hint of strain in his voice, picking his head up to nuzzle his nose with yours, “I think you like me.”

You snort, and kiss him lightly. “What gave you that impression?”

“Y’so fucking cute.” Steve hums and sloooowly pulls his hips back, dragging his cock through your walls so deliciously that your toes curl. “Could be all those times you stared at me in class-” He watches your face as he pushes forward, until his hips are flush with yours and your head arches backwards against his sheets. “Could be when you nearly let me kiss you at prom-” Out. In. Steve runs his tongue up the length of your throat, and bites at your earlobe. He whispers, “Could be that you came on my tongue ten minutes ago.”

He picks up his pace, just a bit. Just enough to have the bed creaking under you with the rhythm, to have you moaning in tandem with him- needy and high pitched, leaping from your throat into the hot, sex-charged air.  

Steve’s lips latch onto your neck, and he sucks hard. He eases up after just a couple seconds, dragging his tongue over the sensitive spot, but you know what he’s just done- he’s marked you, right where you won’t be able to hide it in the morning. 

You want him to do it all over your body.

Your jaw goes slack and you’re losing all integrity. He’s even better than you imagined- sleepless nights wanting, hoping endlessly that you’d find yourself here, under him, couldn’t have prepared you for how perfect it feels. His hand finds yours and laces your fingers together, pinning it to the mattress beside your head, squeezing with every slow and purposeful thrust of his hips. 

Steve’s cock finds your g-spot like it’s nothing, like he’s known your body for ages. He barely even has to try before you’re whimpering, raking your nails up his back and leaving long red trails behind. 

Your teeth latch onto his shoulder and you bite, probably harder than you should, but you just can’t refuse the urge to mark him the way that he’s left his mark on you. He moans, a deep and boyish sound in your ear, as you drag your tongue along his shoulder, soothing the bite, tasting his sweat. The salt and the sweetness of his skin, mixed with the heady smell of sex in the room, have you losing yourself in him.

“Biter.” You hear him chuckle dangerously, rumbling along your skin while his nose skirts your jawline. 

“You’re so good, Stevie-” you whine, hot pleasure rearing up in you like a tidal wave. “Oh, you feel so fucking good, I love- love how you feel inside me.”

Steve groans loudly into your shoulder, his teeth grazing your collarbone. You think he has a mind to bite you back- maybe he’d do it harder. You can see Steve drawing blood, when the mood suits him. 

But his hand squeezes yours, his other sweeping broadly up your thigh and hitching your leg up further over his hip. “Yeah?” His voice is rough, bordering on a growl, “What’d’ya say we stay like this forever, huh? Just like this?” 

His pelvis grinds up against yours, his pubes crushing against your clit making you gasp. Everything’s wet- your skin, his skin, the sheets. Sweaty bodies sticking and sliding against each other, your hips meeting his in the middle.

“Like this?” you gasp, your head reeling. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just about the only thing bringing you back into focus. Steve doesn’t falter, keeping the same pace and rhythm while he watches you try to form a coherent reply. “Mm- I- I, hhuh-”

“C’mon, babygirl,” he breathes against your damp skin, “you can do better than that. You love my cock so much, you wanna keep it warm all the time? Wanna stay in bed with me forever, is that it?”

You nod fervently, your hands grabbing at his neck, his hair, his shoulder- anywhere you can touch. “Yes, yes. God, Steve, I- you’re gonna make me cum, shit-”  

“I know it,” Steve murmurs, tugging your lip between his teeth and making you whine again. Your cunt pulses around him, and he hisses, his hand slipping on your thigh. “Love seein’ you all drunk on my cock- shit, you’re so gorgeous like this.” He pauses to kiss you, making you lightheaded, making you tug at his hair. “Y’look so pretty under me, baby. Pussy feels so good, I wanna stay here, too. I can see us doin’ this for the rest of our lives, huh? How’s that sound?” 

How does it sound? You and Steve Harrington, together forever? Intertwined, knotted up with no way to lose each other, no disappearing and then reappearing years down the line?

“S’that a challenge?” you whimper shakily at him. “Throwing down the gauntlet?” 

“I don’t think I could let you go, now,” Steve tells you firmly, his hand leaving your thigh so that he can grab your jaw possessively, his tongue darting out to trace gently across your bottom lip. “I’m never gonna let you go, baby.”

You wrap your legs around his waist. “I don’t want you to.”

“I hope so,” he whispers, his breath mingling with yours.

Steve kisses you long and slow when you cum. You swallow his moans when he does.

What would you? Baby, if you only knew that I can see you, oh, I can see you…

You almost think it’s a dream. When you rouse in the morning, you feel like you imagined it. But you’re surrounded by the scent of Steve, of musky cologne and sweat and sex, and maybe just a little bit of hair gel stuck to his pillows. 

You flop over and stare at the ceiling. You’re alone in a king size bed, fitted with gray sheets and a few too many pillows. The other side of the bed is still warm, but your paramour is nowhere to be found. His bedroom is fairly stark, with a few little things arranged on the dresser top and clothes thrown around the floor. It doesn’t feel like a room he spends much time in, aside from sleeping and dressing in the morning.

You immediately think about what this all means for you. Whether he really meant what he said in the heat of the moment, if he really wants this to be a long-term thing or if it was just pillow talk. It doesn’t take you long to determine which one you want it to be.

There’s commotion on the other side of the closed door. You lean over the side of the bed, searching for something to put on before you just waltz out there naked. Ultimately, you pull on his blouse from last night.

You emerge from the bedroom squinting against the light in the room. The blinds in the living room are open, casting bright sunlight across the room and into the kitchen. You find Steve in front of the stove.

“Hey, there she is!” he announces happily. “Just in time for breakfast.”

Steve looks so comfortable in the kitchen, moving around quickly and efficiently, whereas you tend to blunder about. When you wander over to the island, you notice he’s already picked up his suit jacket, and laid it across the bar stool next to the one you choose. 

Your underwear is nowhere to be seen.

You grin at his back, plopping down onto the bar stool. The metal is cold against your bare ass, nearly making you squeal and jump back up. “Is it a Sex on the Beach?”

He laughs gleefully. “Nah, if only. How was that, by the way?” 

“The ice cream, or the porn?”

He turns to grin at you over his shoulder. “Both.”

He’s wearing glasses. Round wire frames that complement his face perfectly, making him look distinguished in his gray sweats and black t-shirt. Just like that, you’re spiraling. Suddenly, you’re picturing yourself being here, with him cooking breakfast in his glasses and PJ’s every morning, on and on into the future. Doing domestic shit, grocery shopping, dancing around in the kitchen at 3 am, kissing in the rain- well, you’ve already done that one.  

But you can see it. That future, with him by your side, it’s right there. You just don’t know if it’s the one that he wants. You don’t really know how deep this runs for him.

Funny what just an accessory can do to your train of thought.

“Um.” You swallow. What was the question? “The ice cream was great. Still the best sundae I’ve ever had, by the way. The porn was bullshit, I didn’t get through twenty minutes. I just wanted to make you blush.”

“Brat.” He spins around, and plates an omelet right in front of you. You watch his face, tracing the easy smile he wears. “I hope you like it- but if you don’t, you better not say anything. I don’t think I could handle the pain of your rejection.” He looks up at you, hazel eyes shining gold in the sunlight. “You’re staring.”

“I-” you blink at him. You don’t fucking say. You open your mouth to ask- you want to ask what this is, what he feels, did he mean it. Do you want to do this again? Is this serious for you? Because it is for me, if you want it. You just don’t get that far.

“You’ve been staring since we were fourteen,” he chuckles, sliding you a fork. 

That startles you. “Well,” you click your tongue. “I didn’t realize you were looking so closely.”

“Oh,” Steve shrugs, turning to place the pan in the sink. “Just since freshman year. When you read Juliet’s monologue in English class. Remember?”

You tilt your head. Vaguely. It was just a class project, where each person had to choose a Shakespearean monologue to recite in front of the class. You thought he only even became aware of you senior year.

Romeo, doff thy name, And for that name which is no part of thee, Take all myself. 

“Are you telling me,” you say, palms flat on the counter as you peer at him incredulously, “you’ve liked me just as long as I’ve liked you?”

“Told you I’d get there, eventually.”

Your brain refuses to compute. You stare at his back, his tousled hair, and want to yank him toward you and squeeze him like one of those fucking squeaky toys that you get at the pet store. The ones the eyes pop out of.

Steve turns to you with a smirk, leaning across the counter to mirror you. He reaches forward to trace the mark he made on your neck, still tender, while mocking your pout back at you. His eyes crease at the corners, like they always do when he’s trying to be coy.

“Eat your breakfast, baby. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

(I see you, I see you, baby.)

[i-promise-i-am-not-on-drugs]

Alright, rewatching episode 05×02 of stranger things, let's go!

I'm going to write what I thought/saw in each scenes, so it's probably going to be long.

1) Joyce

Wow, that house is really looking ominous as hell.

2) Will and Mike

Okay first of all THE FAMOUS WILL VOICE OMGJDKKKDKFKSKSJJCJXISKWJXJJWH!!! TuT💕

Sorry.

Anyway, I really like that Mike is trying to help Will by giving him some sort of reason as to why all this is happening.

Also,

Will, stuttering: You really think so?

Mike, softly: Yeah. Yeah, I really do.

This is just so sweet.

3) Hopper

Damn, I forgot about that.

This underground place is so full of toxic spores, I'm surprised he even walked this far!

Also, he was kinda dumb about it. I mean, these spores are pretty huge, I wouldn't go in there without covering my mouth and nose honestly.

Rip Hopper, I know you'll survive that but I feel for you man 🫡

4) Nancy and Jonathan

"you want a single. (side eye) Or a double." LMAO--

Anyway.

(The hand/scar thing is so adorable I love them. )

Damn, amazing communication skills guys. 🙂

5) Mike, Will and Joyce

Love how Mike is staying next to Will, even if he knows that it's probably dangerous. :)

Also,

Will: I think he's in trouble. I think he's going to die.

Woah, that's actually pretty cool. Also creepy, but still pretty cool. :D

6) Hopper

Guess Will has someone to relate with now. (Puking weird and disgustingly slimly Upside Down stuff)

Nice, he finally though about protecting his mouth and nose.

A cigarette really? ._.

I mean, at least he left something.

7) The Sinclairs

(I love Erica she's so sassy)

Miss and Mr Sinclair are such cool parents! :)

They're my favorite adult couple if I'm being honest.

I love how Lucas asked his dad what he does when his mom's angry, it really shows that he has a big crush on Max. And it's pretty cute too! :3

(The Sinclair mens really are a perfect example of "my girl is mad at me I hope I die" lol)

8) the Handersons

Oh noo, Mewsyyyyy..!! :(

Dustin, you smart manipulative little shit. (This is both so sad and so funny help)

That plan to catch Dart was actually really smart!! Amazing job Dustin!! :)

Also, "I'm sorry. You ate my cat." that made me laugh for like two minutes straight lol--

9) Eleven

That random man in the truck was so nice, I hope he'll succeed in whatever he's doing in his life.

Alright, go find your mom El. I don't remember how that went, but hopefully not too bad.

ELEVEN MY GIRL YOU CAN'T JUST USE YOUR POWERS TO ENTER SOMEONE'S HOUSE DEAR---

Alright, that went.... Alright I guess... Hhh...

10) Nancy, Jonathan and Murray

Murray is such an interesting character, I really liked this part.

Also, completely destroying his evidences was such a Nancy thing to do lol--

11) Max and Lucas

(Hell yeah, fuck Billy. Anyway.)

Alright, I really love lumax, and I know that it wouldn't have happened if this scene didn't, but I still think it was a bad decision to tell Max what happened.

I know she "accepted the risk", but she wasn't taking it seriously and that was pretty dumb (but completely understandable) of her.

Now, let's go Lucas. Put your future girlfriend in the secret!

12) Will, Mike, Joyce, and Bob

Wow, Bob is actually really, really smart. I forgot about that too.

(Also, I really love how Mike and Will are always next to each other. That's cute. ^^)

13) Hopper

Okay, first of all, ew.

And then, good job Jim!! You found an exit! :D

14) Dustin (+Erica)

I mean, at least the cat got a proper grave.

Ooohhhh,, right. He cleaned the blood. Must be slightly traumatic.

Like I said before, I love Erica and her sassy attitude, but right now it's not playing for her side. Not cool Erica.

15) Eleven and Becky (+Mama) (forgot her name)

I really love how understanding Becky is there. She's trying to stay calm and find aweser, without pushing El to get them. It's nice.

And I forgot that her mom also had some kind of powers, that's pretty cool!

16) Will, Mike, Joyce, and Bob

He's really, really smart. That's cool.

Poor dude must be so confused thought--

17) Dustin and Steve at the Wheeler's

Damn, two hours is fucking long--

Anyway.

Ted is pretty fucking useless, you're right Dustin. I like how it's really clear that Dustin has no respect at all for Ted, I mean he's swearing without even thinking twice about it! Really shows how passive Ted is in everyone's lives.

Steve coming to give Nancy flowers and "apologize"... My boy stop lying to yourself, you know this relationship is already fucked.

Anyway.

It's funny how Dustin orders him around and he doesn't even blinks lol

18) Hopper

Yep, the spores are getting to him again.

And the vines, apparently. Rest in pieces my dude. (Sorry)

19) Lucas and Max (+Billy)

I mean, of course she's not going to immediately believe you, who would! I mean, at least she has some doubts.

Alright, fuck Billy again, in a non sexy way, can't wait to see him die. (/hj)

20) Nancy, Jonathan, and Murray

Murray thinking with alcohol and music is so funny to me.

Also, he's so right about the counter thing.

Anyway.

That scene is so badass. ✨

21) The Lab

Welp, that's weird as fuck.

22) Eleven, Becky, and Mama

Well, that for sure was intense. Also made me really uneasy, but it was pretty interesting.

Guess we know why "rainbows" now.

Also, tinny eight (I forgot the name she chose), if it is actually her, is so adorable. :)

23) Will, Mike, Joyce, Bob, Hopper, and Hawkins Lab

Poor Bob is confused as hell.

The way Joyce is immediately clinging to Hopper to make sure he's okay makes me kinda sad for Bob, but I guess we know why.

(Also, Jim almost forgetting his hat and going back to take it was so funny to me lol)

Alright now, Will.

Nothing much to say here, but HOLY HELL WHAT THE FUCK MY POOR BOY IS HAVING A SEIZURE!!!! DO SOMETHING PEOPLE??

— End note

Welp, that episode was something! I'll watch the next one in a bit.

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Hiiiiii me again so prepare for a novel length ask 😵‍💫 sometimes I just can’t shush.

I agree with you soooooo much about the finale and Agatha/Rio. It was so interesting to watch it unfold - like the almost kiss in the forest? My impression of that was Agatha had received special treatment from Rio because of their relationship (which we got confirmation of this) and that she had a moment she thought that happened again - that somehow Rio had given Nicholas back as Billy. And Rio knew that, too, which is why she stopped Agatha from kissing her - Agatha was having soft, grateful feelings to Rio, thinking she had her son back - and Rio couldn’t let her believe that. Or didn’t want her to.

But I agree, they aren’t getting back together - Agatha made that hella clear. Even if she still has feelings for Rio, she can’t get past the loss of her son. Rio took Nicholas, and while it was her job to, there are some things that just can’t be repaired.

I also admittedly laughed really hard when Agatha came back as a ghost. Not only did she keep Rio from getting Billy, she siphoned Death’s power in a farewell kiss, and did…whatever she did, to become a ghost and keep Rio from taking her spirit. Total power move.

Plus..Rio does not like ghosts at all. I wish I could stick it to my ex in that next level petty of a fashion.

Ghost!Agatha x Reader has wriggled its way into my subconscious, so there’s that, too. Ahem.

Was Eras completely magical? Did you go with your wonderful girlfriend? Details on your outfit, please? 💜

Also also, sending you a huge hug on the post about your mother. I am so sorry you have to live that way. I live in a red state and while my family is VERY BLUE, my heart breaks for anyone who doesn’t feel they can be safe and supported with their family.

I hope you’re having a lovely night. 💜

- 🌸

Hi my friend <3 (my response is sooo long so I’m gonna cut it hahaha)

Oh wow I really like your interpretation on that moment between Agatha and Rio in episode 4. I almost took it as a warning, I guess, or to maybe set Agatha's expectations. Because yes absolutely Agatha has received special treatment, like Rio said more than any mortal before her ever did, and I think she's aware to some extent the power she holds over Rio. What's interesting to me when looking at their relationship, is the majority of the manipulation comes from Agatha. It's funny that the personification of Death doesn't hold the upper hand, but I do think it's very fitting with Agatha's character. Anyways, I kind of saw it as Rio warning Agatha, 'that boy is not yours and he shouldn't be here'. And I think her reasoning on that definitely was because she still had feelings for Agatha, ya know? Taking Nick destroyed them, and maybe in her mind she thought 'well I'm warning Agatha, so it won't be an issue. He's another woman's son anyways'.

Gosh that was way too long, hahaha. But yes I completely agree! I am super intrigued to watch them interact in the future...especially with Tommy now being back. I fear Rio is not gonna be too thrilled with Agatha doing all of this for another woman's kids LOLL can't say I blame her. And the Agatha ghost bit SENT ME. Taking ghosting to a new level of petty, in true Agatha Harkness fashion <3

I'm really playing around with a ghost!Agatha fic!! I'm sooo behind on writing but the idea I have is kind of depressing, lol but I'm gonna try and think of a more upbeat version.

Oh my gosh the Eras Tour was actually one of the best nights of my entire life, no exaggeration. I love Taylor Swift, she's on a good portion of my writing playlists. I actually started crying when it started, which is embarrassing af but I don't care!! And yes! I went with my girlfriend (who acquired the tickets, she's a rockstar and we love her), and one of my friends & her girlfriend! I love the song Maroon (which she played a night later rip haha), so I found these sparkly burgundy pants and a maroon themed shirt and paired with Nikes that had a burgundy swish on them.

Also thank you for saying that <3 It's really hard being in a mainly conservative family. I'm genuinely so happy that your family is voting Blue, at this point it just feels like a difference between having morals and not. I'm also tired of these past few elections feeling so stressed, idk, things have just taken such a drastically dark turn and I hate that we ended up here. My response is SOOO long and I apologize but I hope you're well, thank you so much for the ask <3 (I'll post a pic of the concert separately because this is already so long asdhasfhjas)

[fizzigigsimmer]

i wanna hear about all your fics!! so bachelor au, blinding baby like city lights, news paper au and love aint fair at all!!

Ahh bless you nonny. Some of these are still just outlines but a few have chapters posted.

Starting with OUTLINES

The Bachelor Au: This is still one of my favorite ideas lol, born of my love of the insanity that is the bachelor franchise and the poorly concealed producer plants who are clearly just there for the drama. You can't tell me Billy wouldn't make a perfect Chad. The gist is Steve is the first Bisexual bachelor contestant. An icon, An American sweetheart looking for love. Robin and The Party are crew members and all the stranger things teens are contestants (Nancy, Chrissy, Eddie, Jason, Argyle, Heather) vying for his hand and represent various types of typical bachelor contestants. The funny ones, the good guys, the people there for clout, the people who somehow think they can get away with going on a dating show while still involved in a situationship back home, and the people who decide to do a reality show instead of go to therapy for their bag of issues. Billy is an instagram model hired by producers to be the seasons 'villian' and be hated by the audience. It's just supposed to be a free vacation where he gets to make some extra cash to be his most extra before he's finally sent home. But oops, they fall in love. Leaving them to figure out how they build a life together after the show when there are NDA's involved and they are the most hated ship in America.

Newspaper Club Au: This is a no upside down college fic featuring Billy/Nancy friendship, nerd!billy and jock!Steve. I haven't decided yet whether it's modern, 80s, or an ambiguous setting but the basic gist is the boys meet in college. Steve is there on a sports scholarship and chose California to follow Nancy, now his ex-girlfriend. Billy's an English major who works on the school paper with Nancy (one of his electives). He's pissed when she puts him on the sports column as it means he actually has to attend the games. He starts using the column to flirt with/aka harass swimmer Steve through increasingly ridiculous and suggestive commentary. The campus thinks it's a riot. Steve thinks Billy's an asshole and making him the butt of a joke just because he's a "dumb jock". Nancy plays matchmaker and also saves the integrity of her paper by finagling Billy into helping Steve write an essay for his English literature elective. Billy takes the opportunity to show him he was 1000 percent serious about wanting to know if his dick is even bigger out of the speedo.

Onto the POSTED fics

Blinding Baby Like City Lights: Is a dom/sub au where everyone is either a dominant, submissive, or switch. Basically some people need to dominate to stay balanced and others need to submit, or some mix of the two. And everyone responds differently to different things, creating many different 'types.' Naturally not all types are good for each other. Billy is a masochistic sub, has known it for a long time but wasn't safe to explore it growing up with an abusive sadist for a father. He's managed to claw his way out of his abusive home and become a successful business man who is often mistaken for a dom. He found family in Heather & Chrissy, but never a dominant he can trust enough to handle him and give him exactly what he needs. Steve's a recovering sadist. Too much privilege and neglectful parents lead him to some pretty unhealthy and toxic tendencies in his relationship with his first love Nancy. Losing his sub nearly broke him, but he broke good and has been rebuilding his life with his best friend Robin for the last few years. He just wants to take care of people by making good food, and find someone he can take care of always, without having to be afraid of his own desires. Steve might just be perfect for Billy, and Billy might just be what Steve needs to finally embrace who he is.

*** EDIT

When you have so many WIPs you confuse two of them.

Love Aint Fair At All: Werewolf au + a/b/o dynamics. This is a retelling of Snow White that takes place in an alternate version of Hawkins where magic exists. Some peoples magic makes them Wolf Shifters (people who are born with the ability to turn into wolves) and others use their magic to bend the external elements, these people are called Hags. Steve lives in the Cold Zone, a portion of the country that is suffering under a powerful Hags curse. Billy is a Wolf Shifter, exiled from their former pack in California, he and Neil make their way as huntsmen for hire. But everything goes to shit wen Neil brings the family to Hawkins to serve Steve's cousin Elsie, a powerful and mysterious Hag whose obsession with beauty and power threatens to cover the world in ice. The only thing holding her at bay is an old curse that limits her powers and a prophecy that promised one day an omega child would be born who was fairer than her. Good thing Steve is a perfectly normal bland beta boy - until he isn't.

[hypocriticaltypwriter]

Ok but the Nancy and ace universe is missing some drama, like ace and Nancy this, ace and Nancy that yada yada yada let's expand it! Add the other cobras in it and Nancy's brothers and oh yk how billy has a "girlfriend" her name is Connie in the movie yeah she's also friends and so happened neighbors with Nancy and she broke up with billy but billy didn't take it all too well bc HE wasn't the one who broke off the relationship so that hurt his masculine ego and What if Bradley what a long crush on Connie and now that she's single he's trynna get to her idk if you like this idea I just needed to mumble shit rn I love your blog ❤️

OoooO very interesting take Anon! I'm more than happy to leave these two for everyone to go crazy with ideas and stories, I have a little drama in store with these lovebirds, but I usually keep their story tame to combat my other soap opera esque selfships LOL

And as for Bradley, sad to say he's off the market!... At least that's what he says. He's trying very hard to win over a pretty miss Daphne Witchowsky who stops by his work often... 👀

[lanadane1]

About You

(Early November 1984) 

Prologue: The Split 

Eddie Munson x female!harrington!reader 

Chapter Summary:  Eddie confronts you about where you have been.  When you cannot provide an answer, the worst case scenario happens... 

Word Count: 1.7k (this is probably the shortest chapter lol)

 series masterlist here

Chapter warnings: Angst, breakup, aggressive Eddie, cheating allegations (not true)

Your heart dropped to the trailer floor- ripped in two halves.  

The statement your boyfriend just produced felt like he has thrust a knife into your chest, removed your heart, and ripped it in two.  You wished the bed you sat upon would swallow you whole.  Your eyes welled up and obstructed your view of him leaning on the dresser across the room from you as the words he spat reverberated in your brain like a harsh melody.  

“If you can’t trust me enough to tell me then I just… I don’t know if I can be with you.” Eddie hesitated as the weight of his words and the gravity of the situation dawned upon him.  He crossed his arms on his chest and stretched the red flannel he was wearing across his biceps.  It was a defensive stance that reflected his uncomfortable and frazzled state- yet you couldn’t help but recognize how beautiful he was as he did the simple action, no matter how inappropriate the circumstance was.  

You dragged your thoughts away from that of Eddies effortless beauty and pulled your sweater over your hands.  Using the heel of your palm, you wiped the quickly drying the water from your cheeks.

You weren’t crying because you were sad, not even because you were angry.  You cried out of frustration.  Helplessness seeped through your skin and your stomach churned at the fact there was nothing you could say or do to fix the situation.

You cried because he was right.  If you couldn’t tell him what happened, he couldn’t stay with you.  You couldn’t say why you disappeared for a week straight. Why you were talking to that douchebag Billy at school.  Why you have cuts and bruises splattered across your beautiful body like paint. Why you have ignored him except for the unavoidable places like class and lunch. 

“Eddie please,” you plead- no, beg, “Don’t do this.  I just can’t, not now.  Eventually I will I just-”

“Trust me y/n I don’t want to.  This-“ he welled up- a mirror image of the girl standing across from him, “I don’t think you get how much this is destroying me.”

“Then don’t!  Just give me a little while, please- just until things settle and die down- “

“What does that even mean!” he yelled exasperated, pushing off the dresser to close some of the space between you.  His shoulders were hunched like the conversation was physically weighing him down. “Die down? What things? Just tell me where you were! If you can’t tell me that then I have no choice but to assume you- “he stalled.

Eddie’s glassy eyes looked into yours with unprecedented intensity.  Pleading with you to prove his suspicions wrong.  To put his worries to rest and ease his fracturing mind.  

Billy Hargrove was a sorry excuse for a boy- much less a man.  The thought of the misogynistic asshole making Eddie insecure was vile, yet you couldn’t dispel his anxieties.  You wanted nothing more than to cut down the thought and provide an alibi- dispelling all worries from the guarded boy’s sensitive state.  But your alibi was too horrific and legally classified to disclose to your boyfriend, so Eddie had to stay out of the loop.  

Eddie didn’t believe you cheated, but his sad and clouded mind could not come to another conclusion. He did trust you.  Implicitly so.  But Eddie just couldn’t believe his luck.  Getting you to be his girlfriend in the first place, keeping you for so long with so many other eligible options for you to choose from, and you loved him? In his mind, the tables had to turn at some point- and here it was.  

“I wasn’t with him.  I would never cheat on you, Eddie.  I love you.  I need you like I need oxygen- it kills me you think I would ever want someone else.” You whine to him.  

“Then prove me wrong, y/n! Let’s look at the facts.  He’s been hitting on you all year.  I find you and him in a corner at Tina’s Halloween party- “

“He cornered me! Could you not see how relieved I was when you pulled me out of there?”

“-You go M.I.A. for like a week and when you finally resurface, Darren tells me he finds you consoling him behind the gym!  What the fuck is up y/n!”

“Darren doesn’t know what the hell he saw!  Please Eds you have to understand-”

“Then enlighten me y/n! Look me in the eye and tell me you weren’t with him when you disappeared.  Tell me you don’t like him.”

You match his intensity. You leave the bed, meeting him in the middle of the room, and close the gap that separates the two of you- grasping his face in your hands and palms cupping his cheeks.  Your eyes burning with insistence into his melting chocolate ones.  

“I wasn’t with him.  I love you, teddy.  I can’t even- god I can’t even think about someone else.”

He grabbed at your wrists and paused a moment.  He believed you.  He loved you too.  But it wasn’t enough to erase the betrayal.  “Then where were you.”

You closed your eyes and leaned your forehead against his.  You understood why he couldn’t let it go.  Eddie told you once that it felt like he repelled commitment; his parents dumped him with Wayne as a child, most of his classmates avoided all interaction with him, and his teachers all gave up on helping him a long time ago.  But then you came along.  A raft in a raging sea.  A blanket in a merciless winter.  So, you could understand why this broke him.  You were the only shred of light left and if you abandoned him too- he feared he would be left in the dark.  Permanently.  

What you couldn’t do- is tell him what happened. You couldn’t explain that your best friend’s little brother and friends found a bald-headed girl in the woods last year that unlocked a secret world which paralleled Hawkins but was infested with monsters of unimaginable horror.  You couldn’t tell him that the boy you babysat, Will Byers, started seeing a shadow monster in the sky and accidentally blipping into that ghastly netherworld and was somehow connected to said shadow monster that had intentions to take over the boy, the town, and probably the world. You couldn’t tell him that the reason you went off the grid was to team up with your friends and focus on taking down this ominous evil. You couldn’t tell him that Billy's little sister was a part of the motley crew that banded together to take down this monster which caused Billy to come looking for said little sister.  And you certainly couldn’t tell him that you were talking to him behind the gym at school to see if he was alright after taking a bad beating from your brother and recovering from an involuntary drugging by his sister- your kindness getting the better of you.  

So, you didn’t.

“I just can’t explain it. Yet.”

Eddie inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.  He pulled your hands from his face and separated your foreheads from each other. He looked into your eyes- his own begging you to change your mind and not force him to make this choice.  

When your face projected that you were cemented in your decision, he became cemented in his.

“Then come find me when you can.  Until then, I think we- “He stopped as tears left his eyes and found purchase in the shag carpet of his bedroom floor.  He found his voice again and finished his sentence, “We need to be done.”  

He let your arms go and they fell limply to your sides.  You couldn’t feel them, as they dragged your shoulders down.  You couldn’t feel the tears that streamed down your cheeks onto your neck and collarbone.  You couldn’t even feel the floor beneath you- like the news pulled the ground out from under you.  That’s why you can only assume you floated to the front porch since you didn’t feel your legs pull you away from Eddies bedroom where he sat on his floor in a hysterical ball.  

You don’t remember the fight after he said you should break up.  You don’t remember the pleading and begging and shouting from both parties.  You don’t remember calling your brother to come pick you up from the trailer you once considered a second home.  

“I thought he was driving you home. Its only like 6?”

“Stevie, please. Just- just come get me.”

“Oh… okay then.  I’ll be there in a little bit.”

You don’t remember how long you sat on Eddies front porch with misty eyes and a trembling body from the crisp November night air.  

But you will never, ever forget the sound of Eddies muffled sobs of anger through the thin trailer walls, or the look on his face as he watched you climb into Steve’s car through the window in his room- pure anguish and immediate regret.  

Steve gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, as he too saw Eddie visibly distraught through the window.  Only after he slowly pulled out of the Forest Hills trailer park and turned onto the main road, did he finally break the silence.  

“You okay?”

“No.”

You figured there was no point in lying.  Steve always found your bluntness amusing, even as children.  However, the low morale of the car ride has him unable to find the humor in your comment.  

“Do you feel like talking?”

“No.”

You both breathed for a second.  There was no need to talk.  It went unspoken.  You both knew what just happened and you both knew that the next few months were going to be rough.  Grueling. Torturous.  But you had Stevie to help.  So, you wouldn’t be alone.

But you both knew he wasn’t who you wanted by your side.  Who you needed by your side.  

He wasn’t Eddie.

Steve’s heart ached at the state you were in.  The streetlights turned his passenger window into a mirror, reflecting a vision of you with puffy eyes and silent tears racing down the hills of your cheeks.  

Meanwhile, it was like your life was flashing before your eyes.  Memories of you and Eddie filled your head and ripped you apart.  Picnics in the back of his van, private concerts in his room, stolen kisses in yours, strong arms that held you together when it times got hard.  

He came and made everything right.  Now, he has left.  And everything is wrong.

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

This is my first story so be kind to it!  I just love writing as a hobby and stranger things (*cough Eddie cough*) and thought I’d take a try.  :)))))

[calmingpi]

Next on the agenda: i actually finished listening to all the song recs ages ago and kept forgetting to make a post about it but i DID LISTEN TO EVERYTHING (under cut because its longer)

My favorite in general was butterfly by swingrowers ive been making everyone at work listen to it (that was recced by @trinity-blaze i believe). I love electroswing but i dont really explore the genre much despite that for some reason, even though i started listening to it in middle school

I received two playlists, the first one by @sparrowsarus and can be listened to here via spotfiy. My favorite on that actually was beach house by my girl carly rae jepsen, and also i really liked girlfriend by billie piper. I had no idea she was a musician. Whoops. Overall there was a lot of 90s pop on there which was super fun

The second playlist was from @tamlins-stories-and-poems and im actually not a filk fan really, my favorite was definitely lil nas x singing jolene which i REALLY wish was longer, but theres some fan songs on there that i think really were highlights in regards to fan made music. Turn it down by or3o for example i think really fit encantos general music style and was well performed, which is especially hard to do for a very established musical to begin with. The power of fans! I think playlist wise it was well put together to show geek music, i did actually send it to friends to explain what filk is because it turns out none of my friends has ever heard the term filk before. Which is very surreal to me

Lastly i got recommended three songs from the hadestown soundtrack from @carmineskies67 and i wasnt really into it but musical wise i can absolutely understand for sure. For me the biggest standout was why we build the wall, because i found the influence it takes in uhhh i cant remember the name of the genre i am thinking of!! Blues? Gospel? Both? Really interesting and well executed. It was the standout song for me personally

Thank you for all the recommendations!! I was gonna make this sooner but i got overwhelmed with theme week drawings and then i could only type one handed for a while and making a long post got hard. Im still always up for music recs even if itll take me a few centuries to tell you whether i like them lol

[heliads]

Hello, I hope you are having a good day or evening, I just wanted to ask what fics do u have lined up? 🙏😁

hello anon, i hope you have a good day or evening as well!

5/19: so, before you go chapter eight (darkling x reader)

5/21: bones mccoy x reader (grishaverse au)

5/23: matthias helvar x reader (enemies to friends to lovers)

5/25: charles leclerc x reader (reader is ferrari head of pr)

5/27: andrew peter parker x reader (simple headcanons)

5/29: clove x reader (reader helps clove train for the games)

5/31: tom peter parker x reader (male reader is fighting in wakanda during infinity war, they're worried about each other through the blip)

6/1: billy rocks x reader (the magnificent seven but a grishaverse au, i am so so excited to write this, june cannot come quickly enough)

6/3: tewkesbury x reader (both of them are lovesick idiots)

6/5: han solo x reader (escapades w han + singing to get out of a crisis)

6/7: race x reader (reader is brooklyn's second in command)

6/9: peter pevensie x reader (reader is a knight with a gay crisis, i am shrieking, raven i love you for sending this in)

6/11: jack wilder x reader (reader is a paramedic and jack keeps mildly injuring himself so she can fix him up)

6/13: newt x reader (gally's trademarked beverage as a plot device)

6/15: peter pevensie x reader (headcanons for having to live in london after spending so long in narnia)

6/17: finch x reader (the newsies are hanging out, he has a crush)

6/19: daniel atlas x reader (reader volunteers to be a part of a trick, he gets shy)

6/21: newt x reader (tmr modern au, they sit next to each other in class)

6/23: race higgins x reader (race + reader are on a date but get jumped and they must recover emotionally from that)

6/25: kai parker x reader (kai redemption era)

6/27: lucy pevensie x reader (lucy has a girlfriend and gets up the courage to introduce them to the siblings, this is when they're all kings and queens)

6/29: zoya nazyalensky x reader (reader is zoya's #1 fan bc zoya saved them from attack one time, reader is hurt by somebody and zoya nearly becomes a supervillain bc of it)

7/1: andrew peter parker x reader (male reader is peter's best friend but when peter gets bitten by the spider, he stops hanging out with reader as much, angst ensues)

plus bonus non requests that i get to tack onto the end of my queue bc i am the author and i need to clear through some of my unwritten ideas:

7/3: eric coulter x reader (reader was from amity but now tattoos, idk commentary on art surviving in a place like dauntless you get my drift)

7/5: jesper fahey x reader (this quote specifically that has been in my inbox for months: but how long? how long until i blend into the background and i'm no longer unusual? what will you do when i'm no longer a bet that calls your interest or a gamble worth the odds?)

7/7: eowyn x reader (eowyn thinks she dislikes reader bc reader is a girl and can fight but eowyn can't, in reality that's not jealousy but a repressed crush on a girl, we've all had them before)

7/9: brocedes fic (idk the plot yet i just want it to hurt)

7/11: peter pan x reader (reader can visit neverland when she's dreaming, she goes there often enough that she wants to live there forever, she asks peter to take her but he hesitates, she decides to never dream of him again, eventually he shows up in person bc he misses her)

7/13: carlos sainz x leclerc!reader (i had an idea when i should have been studying for finals and now it's all of your problem)

yeah requests aren't going to be open for a while lol

[rogeriswater]

Don't Leave Me Now

xxxiv

This work contains fictionalized versions of real events and people. Most details won’t be accurate to real life.

tags for this chapter: kind of angsty? maggie is conflicted and can't make up her damn mind lol, smut (fingering, oral sex f receiving)

~m.r~

Today was Roger and Judy's party. I feel like the initial shock of them getting married has finally passed and now I'm over it. Did I still love Roger? Absolutely. But I was also falling back in love with Billy. I was feeling like I once did while we were in high school. I wanted to spend every waking moment with him. I had been a little clingy around Billy lately, but I don't think he minded.

I was in the backyard, making sure the big table we had was set up nicely. I wasn't so keen on the garden that we now had. Billy had hired some gardeners but they didn't do it the way I would've liked. I didn't say anything, however. I just paid and thanked the men as they left.

"Here's some more plates" Olivia announced as she brought out the dishes. She settled into our home quite nicely. It didn't take long for Billy and I to get used to our presence. One thing I've noticed, is she tends to hover around Billy whenever he's home. I found it amusing how she had a crush on him. That being said, she did respect our privacy whenever Billy and I wanted to be alone.

"Thank you, Liv" She proceeded to place the plates around the table.

"I've gotta tell you, Maggie, I'm a little nervous about meeting your band" Olivia mentioned, rubbing her hands together. "I've never met anyone famous before"

I chuckled. "Are you forgetting I'm in that same band?" I put my hand on her shoulder. "Just talk to them like you talk to me, okay?"

Olivia nodded and smiled. "Well then, that'll be easy!"

I felt two hands on my waist. That could only be my husband. "It's looking absolutely lovely out here, ladies" Billy complimented.

I leaned my head back against Billy's shoulder. "Not as lovely as you, my beloved" I purred to him.

Billy smirked. "Beloved? That's a new one"

"Well you are my beloved" I said before giving him a kiss. It was meant to be short and sweet but it never could just be that anymore.

Olivia cleared her throat, making us pull apart from each other. "As cute as y'all are, maybe refrain from the making out when your guests get here" Just as she said that, our doorbell rang. "Speaking of which, your first guest is here"

I went to go answer the door. It was Ronnie and Sandy. "You seem awfully happy today" Ronnie noted as she and Sandy stepped inside the house.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I asked.

"Gee, I don't know. Maybe because your hosting a party celebrating the marriage for the guy you're in love with"

"My sweet silly sister" I said as I pat her head. "I'm in love with Billy, my husband, remember?"

Ronnie eyed me cautiously. "Is everything okay?"

"Of course" I'm not sure why my sister was acting like it's so crazy of me to love my husband again.

Sandy put her hand on Ronnie's arm. "Vee, if Maggie says she's okay, then she's okay"

Ronnie sighed. "You're right, you're right. I'm sorry, Maggie, it just seems a little weird that you— oh, hello" I saw the Ronnie looking at Olivia. "Who are you?"

"I'm Olivia" She introduced herself. "Maggie and Billy hired me as the nanny"

Ronnie looked at me again. "Nanny, huh? I thought you weren't too keen on the idea"

"Yeah, well that was until Olivia stumbled into our lives" I said. "Olivia, this is my sister Ronnie and her girlfriend Sandy"

Olivia smiled at them. "Pleased to meet both of you"

Sandy returned the smile. "You too, Olivia" She followed Olivia to the backyard while Ronnie stayed behind with me.

"What were you saying before?" I asked my sister.

"Oh, it's not important" Ronnie shrugged off. "I'm glad to see you and Billy are doing better though"

I smiled. "Thank you"

~

All our other guests slowly arrived. I was pleased to see that even Steve showed up with his wife, Linda. The only people who had yet to arrive were the people I was throwing this party for. It always seemed that those two were last to arrive anywhere. The doorbell rang one last time, indicating their arrival. I went to go answer the door. "There you two are!" I greeted Roger and Judy. "I was worried you guys weren't going to show up"

Roger chuckled. "Miss a party you're throwing for us? No way" Roger seemed happy, with his arm slung around Judy's shoulder. Judy though, she seemed rather sad.

"It's good to see you Jude" I said, trying to lift her spirits.

She looked at me and forced a smile. "Thanks, Mags. You too"

"We're all just in the backyard" I told them. They followed me to the backyard.

When Billy noticed us, he raised his glass. "Hey everyone, the couple of the hour is finally here!" That made everyone else clap and cheer. Billy got up from the table and walked towards us. Judy's sadness seemed to disappear when she saw Billy coming. She stood up straighter and she smiled. First thing Billy did was grasp Roger's hand and shake it. "Congratulations, man!" This was the first time I've seen Billy be so genuinely friendly with Roger. Even Roger seemed surprised. "I'm real happy for you both"

"Thanks!" Roger said. And for once, he was being friendly too.

When Billy was about to talk to Judy, I found it odd how quickly she jumped at the chance to hug him. Billy seemed surprised but he hugged her back nonetheless. "Happy for you, Judy"

Judy didn't say anything. She just continued to smile, and her hug on Billy became tighter, like she refused to let him go. That didn't sit right with me. Especially knowing that she initiated kisses with him before. I wanted to pry her off of Billy but I had to restrain myself. Is this how Roger felt whenever he saw Billy and I together like this?

To my relief, Judy finally let go of Billy. She wouldn't look at me or even Roger. She would only look at Billy. I placed my hand on Billy's arm. "Honey" I addressed him. Out of my peripheral, I noticed the glare Judy gave me when I called him that. "Can I talk to you inside please?"

"Sure" Billy nodded. He followed me inside while Roger and Judy went to go take their seats at the table. "Is everything alright, my love?"

I sighed and crossed my arms. "I didn't like the way she was hugging you"

"It was just a hug" Billy tried to tell me.

"It's not just the hug! It's just, she's so mopey around Roger, and then she sees you and it's like she's taken coke or something" I didn't even realize my eyes were tearing until Billy wiped one away. "I don't get it. You'd think she'd be more happy that she's now finally married to her childhood sweetheart"

"Maggie, my love, calm down, okay?" Billy said softly as he cupped my face. "I'm sure she is happy with Roger. Maybe they aren't just too public about it"

"She wants to steal you away from me" A little over a month ago, I was worried about her and Roger, but now here I was, worrying about that same thing, but this time it was about her and Billy, my husband.

"She isn't going to steal me away" Billy promised me. He brushed his fingers along my face. "Not when I'm so devoted to you" Hearing him say that made me feel a bit better. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. "I love you and only you"

"I love you too" I said. Billy and I grabbed hands and we made our way back outside. I noticed right away how Roger and Judy were sitting apart from each other. That's funny. This is a party celebrating their marriage. You'd think they want to sit together. They left just enough space for Billy and I to sit together.

I made Billy sit next to Roger, who was deep in some conversation with my sister. The two of them kept looking over at me. What were they talking about exactly? That left me sitting next to Judy. I noted her disappointment. I think she was hoping for Billy to sit next to her. "Jude, I thought you and Roger would want to sit together" I mentioned to her.

"Oh, well, we've already spent so much time together at home" Judy said. "I see you and Billy are closer than ever" I could sense the bitterness in her tone. What is wrong with her? She has her own husband now. Why does she want mine?

"We are. Something happened on that trip to Scotland and ever since then, we don't want to leave each other's side"

"Well, I'm glad things have gotten better between you two" Judy smiled at me. She rubbed my arm. I just knew she didn't mean that, but I also knew she was just trying to be nice. We've become really good friends lately and I don't think either of us wanted that to be ruined.

~

It was getting dark and colder outside, so we moved the party inside. Right now, I was talking with Steve and Linda. "Are you going to be alright touring?" Steve asked me.

"I'll be fine. Besides, it's mostly an English tour. I won't be that far from home" I said.

"We saw you in the papers the other day" Linda mentioned as she took a sip of her drink. "Made friends with the McCartneys"

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Have you, Mags? When did that happen?"

"Turns out Paul owns the farm next to ours in Scotland" I explained.

"If Paul ever needs to "borrow" you for a track or album, you be the first to let me know, alright?" Steve said as he pat my arm.

I chuckled at that. "Will do, Rourkie!" After that, I had excused myself to use the bathroom. It was getting to that point in my pregnancy where I'd have to use the loo more often but that's what happens when you got a baby that's starting to push down on your bladder. After I was done and had come out of the bathroom, I wasn't really paying attention and walked straight into Roger. His arms wrapped around me to keep me from falling. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry Rog"

"No, no, it's fine sunshine" He assured me. I tried to step away but he kept his arms around me.

"Uh, Rog?"

"Huh? Oh, right" He muttered, letting me go.

"The bathroom is yours now" I said.

"That's not why I followed you up here, sunshine" Roger said. He lightly grabbed my arm and leaned in so that his nose was nuzzling into my hair. "I miss you so much"

"Roger..." I started but he shushed me by putting his finger to my lips.

"Let me talk, darling" I kept quiet as he continued to speak. "We can't act like we're doing okay, being apart from each other. I sure as hell am not. Please, let's just go back to the way things were"

"Roger, we can't"

"Don't give me that bullshit excuse of because I'm married now. I'm fucking miserable in this marriage because she's not you! And Judy, well, I think she's more miserable than me. I'm the one that tries to touch her and she wretches away from me like I disgust her"

"I'm sorry, Roger" I said.

"I've been really trying to make this marriage work, Mags. I really have been. But between Judy not even wanting to kiss me anymore, and me wishing that she was you, I can't fucking do it anymore! I'm gonna divorce her. I don't give a shit. I'm gonna divorce her, and then you can divorce Billy, and then we can be together" When Roger mentioned me divorcing Billy, there was a sharp pang in my stomach, like the idea of leaving Billy actually hurt me. "What's wrong, sunshine?"

"I...I can't leave, Billy" I said.

Roger chuckled, almost like he thought I was joking. "Of course you can. You have the divorce papers ready to go"

"No, I mean, I don't want to" I said.

Roger scoffed. "Don't tell me you love him again" My silence gave me the answer he needed. Yet, he didn't seem upset with me. "Maggie, you don't actually love him. You're just deluding yourself into thinking you do because of what I did. And I'm sorry that I did that. It was the stupidest thing I've ever done and it pushed you away from me. But you don't have to pretend that you love him anymore"

"But I'm not pretending!" I tried really hard to convince. Though was I trying to convince Roger, or myself?

Roger cupped my face. "I love you, Maggie. And I will never stop loving you. I know you still love me too" His lips pressed against mine. I tried to push him away, but I couldn't. Not when his kiss was so intoxicating. His lips parted slightly from mine. "Which room is the bedroom?" I brought him into the bedroom. We both sat down on the bed. He stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. "You wanna know something? I can't each peaches without thinking of you"

"Yeah?" I said, smiling a bit.

"Every time I eat one, I'm reminded of your cunt and how sweet you taste, especially when you cum" I found myself growing wet at his words. Roger's hand went to my thigh. His hand slid up under my dress until it reached my knickers. He pushed them aside and he started rubbing circles on my clit. "Christ, you're so wet"

I grabbed onto his shirt and gripped the fabric. I buried my face into his neck. "Roger"

"You missed this, didn't you?" He whispered in my ear. His fingers moved from my clit and then he plunged them inside of me. "I did too" My hands went to his belt, but Roger stopped me. "Don't worry about me right now, darling"

"But, Rog—"

"Shh" Roger put his finger to my lips. The one that was just inside of me. I could faintly taste myself. "Lay down for me, yeah?" I laid down as he asked me to do. My legs were hanging over the edge of the bed. Roger took his shirt off. He kneeled in front of me. He gently grasped my calves and pushed my legs open. "There's that lovely pussy. It's just begging to be licked"

"Roger, please" I couldn't take it any more. I needed his mouth on me.

"Just tell me one thing, and then I'll give you what you want, darling. Can he eat your cunt the way I do?" I felt Roger's hot breath against my aching sex.

"No, he can't" I truthfully said.

Roger smirked. "That's my girl" He dove right in like a man starved. He started by flicking his tongue against my clit. Then, after a few moments of that, he did something new. His lips wrapped around my clit and he started sucking. The sensation of that was phenomenal.

"Fucking hell!" I cried out in pleasure. Where did he figure out how to do that? While he continued on with that, he slipped his finger inside of me again. I sat up so I could watch him. I pushed his hair back so I could see his face. He looked like he was in absolute heaven. The way his eyes were closed and the noises he was making. Roger certainly loved giving me pleasure as much as he enjoyed receiving it. Possibly even more.

"Taste so fucking good" Roger groaned. "Missed this so fucking much" He proceeded to put two more fingers inside of me. I winced a bit at the feeling of him stretching me out. "If you can take my cock, I know you can take two more fingers"

"I can't help it, it's been awhile.." I moaned.

Roger clicked his tongue as he shook his head. "Is he fucking you right?" He then chuckled. "Of course he's not. I'm the only one who can"

"C... mhm!!" The moan over took what I wanted to say.

"What is it, my dirty little minx? Use your words"

"Cock. I want your cock!"

"Only if you cum on my tongue first" Roger said. He took his fingers out of me and then proceeded to fuck me with his tongue. It darted in and out of me, and he licked against my walls every so often. His thumb was pressed down on my clit rubbing fast circles. The wet noises were so vulgar and it only helped bring me closer to euphoria. Before I knew it, I was seeing white spots in my vision as I gushed all over his tongue.

"ROGER!" I shouted his name to the heavens above, not caring in this moment if anyone downstairs heard us, as my thighs clamped around his head. I was careful enough not to suffocate him. He licked me clean before he pulled his head away.

He stood up and gripped my jaw gently. He tipped my head back. "Open your mouth" When he said that, I knew what he was going to do. As soon as my mouth was open, he was spitting into it. It wasn't just him I was tasting, but myself as well. "Good girl" He purred as he stroked my hair. "Face or mouth?"

"I want it in my cunt" I told him.

"You're not getting it in your cunt today. Which one is it going to be? On your face or in your mouth?"

"Face" I decided.

Roger kneeled on the bed beside me. He undid his his belt and unzipped his pants. He pushed them down enough to free his hard big fat cock. He wrapped his hand around it and started stroking himself. Eating me out must have made him pretty worked up because it didn't take long before he was cumming on my face. "Fuck!" He groaned. Once he was done, he smirked down at me. "You should see the mess I left" He chuckled as he slapped his cock against my face a couple of times. "Tempted to have you go downstairs with my cum all over your pretty face"

"You're so naughty" I said to him.

"Only when it comes to you" Roger went into the en-suite bathroom. When he came back out, he had a wet cloth in hand. He stood in front of my and cupped my chin as he wiped his spend from my face. "Let's be honest with ourselves, love. We know we can never just be friends. Not with the way we feel about each other. You can't just push feelings that intense aside"

Roger was right. I knew when I told him we should just be friends, there was a part nagging at me telling me it was never going to be like that between us. "I know... but it's wrong"

"How can it be though when being with you feels the way it does?"

"But, we're both married now and—"

"Rings on fingers don't mean shit unless there is feeling behind them. And frankly, I don't love Judy anymore. You want to know the only reason I married her? Because when you were gone and I went without hearing a phone call, I thought you didn't love me anymore and I was using her to forget about you. To move on. But clearly, that didn't work much, did it?"

"Rog, I'm so sorry"

"You didn't do anything wrong, sunshine. I was the idiot. I married her and by doing that, I pushed you right back into his arms" Roger kneeled in front of me and grabbed my hands. "Look, if you want to stay married to Billy, if you want me to stay married to Judy, then fine. I can accept that. But what I won't accept, is not being with you. If sneaking around is the way we have to be together, then so be it. Just please, don't ever leave me"

"I won't ever leave you again, Roger, I promise"

He grinned, grabbed my face and then kissed me. "You will be my wife someday though, love. I don't care how long I have to wait"

"Maybe you won't have to wait too long" I said. Roger and I agreed it was time to head back downstairs. He went first and I waited several minutes before going back downstairs, as to make it not look too suspicious. As soon as I got back downstairs, I ran into Olivia. She was giving me a strange look. "Is everything okay, Liv?"

The strange look was quickly replaced with a smile. "Yes, Maggie, everything is just fine. I've gotten to know all your bandmates and their gals. They seem like such sweethearts"

I smiled and put my hand on Olivia's arm. "I'm glad to hear that"

"But if I'm being honest, the only one that rubs me the wrong way is Judy"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just the way she's been making googly eyes at Billy all day"

My jaw ticked. "I'm sure it's nothing, Liv, but I appreciate your concern"

Olivia nodded and smiled. "They are outside right now, if you want to talk to her"

"Thanks Liv" I made my way to the backyard. Before I went outside, I peeked through the glass on the doors. Sure enough, I saw Billy and Judy sitting on the porch swings. I opened the door and poked my head outside.

Billy smiled when he saw me. "Maggie!"

"Hi honey. May I borrow Judy for a moment?"

"Of course you can borrow me" Judy said. She got off the porch swing and followed me inside. I brought her into the kitchen which was empty of people, save for the two of us. "Is everything alright?"

I leaned against the kitchen counter and sighed. "Is it true that you kissed Billy?"

I saw the colour leave Judy's face. "How did you—"

"Billy told me"

Judy sighed and she ran her hand through her hair. "Yes, we've kissed. Several times"

"When was the first time?"

"It was while you guys were performing and Billy and I were in mine and Roger's dressing room. I—er—climbed onto his lap and kissed him"

I remained stoic. "Okay"

Judy stepped closer to me. "That's done between us now, Maggie, I swear. And it never went beyond kissing"

"I believe you"

Judy sighed with relief. "I'm sorry. I hope this doesn't make you wanna stop being friends"

"As long as you don't try anything with my husband"

"I promise I won't"

"And that means stop making longing gazes at him too"

"What? I haven't—"

"I'm not blind, Jude"

"Okay, okay, I'll stop"

"Good. And I just have one more question, if you don't mind?" Judy nodded, which prompted me to continue. "You love Roger, don't you? And you're happy to be married to him?"

"Of course I am"

Why was I doing this? It was so hypocritical of me to be upset with Judy for being really close with my husband, yet I'm messing around with hers. But it was conflicting because I love Roger and I can't bear to stay away from him, and yet I was slowly falling back in love with Billy and I didn't want him to decide he's done with me. I blame you pregnancy hormones!

"Good. Roger's happy too, y'know? Even if he doesn't show it" I told her.

Judy smiled at me. "I know he does" And with that, Judy left me alone. I turned around and placed my head down on the counter. What I really wanted to do was open the window and scream but I refrained from doing so.

"Magpie?" I heard my brother's voice. I could feel him stand beside me along with somebody else. I knew that the other person had to be Ronnie.

"I'm such a fucking hypocrite"

"How so, pup?" Ronnie asked me.

"I want Judy to stay away from my husband, yet I can't keep myself away from hers" I stood up straight again. I felt the tears running down my face. "What the fuck do I do? I love Billy, I really do but then Roger comes prancing into my life and he makes me fall in love with him"

"Do you want my advice?" Ronnie asked,

"Not really but you're going to tell me anyway"

"I think because Roger is married now, you're just tricking yourself into thinking you're falling back in love with Billy because it's the only way you can accept that Roger is married"

"You sound just like Catherine" I mentioned my therapist.

"How long has it been since you've seen her, by the way?" Lee questioned.

"I don't know. Close to five years?"

"Do you think it's time you see her again?"

"After all the shit I said to her the last time I saw her!? She'll never take me back"

"You won't know until you try, magpie"

"I suppose" I put my hand on my stomach as a thought came to my head. "Is it bad I want this baby to be Roger's? It would definitely make things more clear for me"

"Whether that baby comes out looking like Billy or Roger, we know in the end it's gonna be Rog you end up with" Ronnie seemed so confident about it.

At that moment, Billy came into the kitchen. He saw the three of us. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Nothing at all" Ronnie said before she and Lee left the two of us alone.

"What was that about?" Billy asked me the moment they left.

"Just some sibling talk" I told him.

"Hmm" Billy hummed in response. He stepped closer to me. He turned me around so that my back was pressed against him. His arms wrapped around my stomach and he gently started to rock me from side to side. "You know, I've been thinking about something"

"You thinking? That's never good" I teased him.

Billy chuckled. "I promise this time it is. The baby is gonna need a friend"

"Where are you going with this?" I asked.

"Where I'm going with this, is that I'm thinking we need to get a cat or a dog"

My eyes lit up at the idea. I've always wanted a pet. I never got the chance to have one, however as Steve was against the idea of having an animal in the house. "That's not a bad idea"

"Wonderful! Because you know, I've read that it's good to get a pet to have the baby to bond with" Billy said with excitement.

It really did warm my heart to see how happy he was that he was gonna be a father soon. There were two possibilities here. This baby comes out looking like Billy, or it comes out looking like Roger. And either way it plays out, someone is going to be heartbroken in the end. Though, if I'm unlucky, this baby will look like me, and then I'll never know who the father is unless I do a DNA test.

"Billy, can you promise me something?" I asked him.

"Of course, my love. Anything" He said.

"You better be the best damn father to this child. I didn't have a father and the one I did get stuck with treated me like garbage. Promise me, no matter what, you will love this child like it's yours"

Billy raised his eyebrow. "Well of course I will because that is my child. Is there any reason it wouldn't be?" Oh shit. I was saying too much.

"No, of course not. I just really don't want you to be an absent father is all. I don't want the baby to come and realize that you don't want to be a father, then you leave me and I'll have to raise the baby all by myself—"

"Hey, hey" Billy said calmly as he cupped my face. "That's not gonna happen"

I sighed. "I know"

"And had your dad survived, he would've been there for you, every single day. You know that, right?"

"I do"

"Good" Billy kissed my forehead. "And you're gonna be a great mum"

I scoffed. "I doubt it. How am I gonna be a good mum when I'm gonna be touring or in the studio all the time?"

"You're going to be doing that stuff for him or her. To provide them with the best life they can possibly have. That already makes you a fantastic mum"

"Speaking of mums.... have you told yours yet?"

"Oh...er..."

"You haven't, have you?"

"You know how she's gonna react" Billy sighed.

"Yeah but still, she deserves to know she's gonna be a grandma. She may not like me, but surely, she'd love her grandchild" I told Billy.

"Yeah, you're right"

"Do you think we should rejoin the party? I hear speeches" I suggested.

"You should give one. This party was your idea after all" With that, Billy and I made our way into the living room, where everyone was gathered, giving their speeches about Roger and Judy.

"There's the gracious host!" Nick said when he saw me. He raised his glass and started to chant. "Speech! Speech!" Everyone else began to chant it as well.

"Alright, alright" I grabbed my glass of water that I had, since I wasn't allowed to have any alcoholic drinks. I started tapping my nails lightly against it. "First off, I would like to say how sorry I am that I missed your wedding. I would have loved to have been there. But, I'm really happy for you guys and I just know that you two will be together for a very long time" I raised my glass. "Here's to Roger and Judy, and many happy years together!"

I observed the two of them closely as I made my speech. The two of them were sitting close together, with Roger having his arm draped over her shoulder. But, really, they couldn't be further apart. Judy had a sad smile on her face and she wouldn't even look Roger's way. And as for Roger, well, he kept looking at me, with that look of longing and love. If this was how it was going to be between them, I don't think their marriage would last very long. I'd be surprised if they even last a year together. It made me feel guilty at how my marriage had been getting better. Still, I was gonna try to hold out hope for them, despite the fact that Roger and I had decided to continue on with our affair.

[lonelier-version-of-you]

Sorry for the Henruss rant that is about to ensue, I know I’ve basically said all this a million times. Being reminded recently of their ridiculous breakup scene just got me annoyed again.

I just still can’t believe that we got an angry, shouty Henruss breakup scene and it was Russ initiating it because he was mad Henrik didn’t tell him about his teenage daughter’s pregnancy. Rather than what it very obviously should have been: Henrik being overcome by his internalised homophobia and Gaskell trauma, getting scared, and pushing Russ away, insisting he was wrong about being interested in Russ and that he only likes women, insisting he can’t have a healthy relationship with a man because he tried before and look how it ended.

Henruss having drama and taking ages to get properly together wasn’t a problem. I mean, it’s Henrik. Any relationship he has, especially with another man, is going to be a long, angsty journey at best. To expect a fluffy romcom relationship when Henrik Hanssen is involved would be setting oneself up for disappointment. (He maybe could’ve had that with Carole, or something in that general vein at least, but then that storyline was dropped so... yeah.)

But why did the drama and angst come from... Russ’s daughter being pregnant?? (And Russ somehow not having noticed, which was just ridiculous.) What was the point in that?

It would’ve been one thing if Holby wasn’t cancelled and still had hour-long episodes, maybe then they could have run it as a subplot alongside proper character work, but as it was it was just a weird storyline that made no sense (there were absolutely no signs Billie was pregnant when she was brought into hospital before, surely realistically it would’ve been discovered then?) and took up time that really shouldn’t have been.

I was cheering when S23E47 aired and Henrik finally did what I’d been expecting him to do much sooner - snapping at Russ and pushing him away. (I love that plot point. It would’ve been utterly out of character if Henrik had just been like “oh, Russ isn’t upset with me about Billie anymore, time to happily get back together with him!”.) But it was just far too little, far too late, especially as a Johnrik fan. It still felt like it was more about Henrik’s self-loathing and inability to believe he can be loved in general, rather than any meaningful exploration of Henrik’s struggle to accept his bisexuality, IMO.

I feel like the show was terrified of exploring Henruss meaningfully in the context of it being a relationship between two men, and they just wanted to treat it like it wasn’t any different than a relationship between a man and a woman. And yes, to some people and characters, there wouldn’t be a difference, and that’s okay. But to Henrik, with the context of his life experiences, of course there would be a difference! His relationship with Russ would not be the same in his eyes as his relationship with Maja! (Lol at how Maja is literally the only actual girlfriend Henrik’s had and thus the only point of comparison I can use, unless you believe Elle Gardner was joking when she said she’d never actually been with Henrik.) Henrik grew up and then came of age/went to med school/started his career in a massively homophobic and biphobic era, and that would’ve affected him a lot, especially as he’s known of his bisexuality at least since med school if not sooner.

Anyway, this all comes back, fundamentally, to how bitter I still am that the show didn’t let Henrik properly talk about his feelings for John. It’s pretty much canon that Henrik was about to come out for John in John’s last few episodes, only for everything that happened to shove him back into the closet (I really don’t know how to take the “I did not know John Gaskell” scene in S20E47 if it’s not supposed to be Henrik re-closeting himself). So why didn’t Henrik get to talk about that in his literal coming out storyline?? (And why didn’t he get to call himself bisexual, for that matter?)

As I always say, Russ wouldn’t exist if John hadn’t paved the way by being Henrik’s first male love interest. Henrik would have been written as a heterosexual man ‘til the end of the show if not for John. So it was utterly disrespectful to the Johnrik relationship to pretend it never happened in favour of lumbering Henruss with silly relationship drama that could work equally well for a straight couple.

And I mean, Billie was a cute character and all, and I always have and always will love the idea of Henrik having a teenage step-daughter - I’m deeply, deeply grateful Holby somehow managed to refrain from giving Henrik his 50000th Replacement Son. If they’d involved her in the story without doing the whole pregnancy arc, I would’ve loved that (seeing her coming to grips with her dad moving on from her other dad and starting a new relationship, and what that means for her life, could’ve been interesting!). We’ve hardly ever seen him being parental with girls and young women, there was Tara and that’s it, so giving Henrik’s love interest a daughter was a refreshing move.

But if they wanted to make the storyline focus on drama from a teenage pregnancy, with Henrik’s issues with relationships and struggle to believe he can be loved as a side plot thread, they really, really should have just given Henrik a girlfriend. It would have been a perfectly fine storyline if we were talking about, idk, Rebecca instead of Russ. (You’d have to change S23E43, maybe, although even then you could’ve just generalised Henrik’s talk with Serena about coming out into one about relationships in general quite easily.) I would have been just as happy to see Henrik settle down with a nice woman as I was to see him with a nice man. If Holby weren’t ready to fully delve into Henrik’s internalised homophobia and self-loathing about his attraction to men, then they could’ve simply never gone there in the first place.

Sigh.

Rant over. I feel a lot better now I’ve gotten this off my chest, lol. (Also, if this reads like it was written at 1am, that’s because most of it was, I started drafting it up a couple days ago and then impulsively wrote basically the entire rest of the post last night, but I forgot to post it before I went to bed so, yeah, here it is now.)

[cinnamonfknbuns]

5, 11 & 20 for any of ur oc ships/otp!

omg I didn't actually expect to get any asks, I saved it more for myself to reference later fhjagdj but now I'm excited to write yayyyy!!!!! thank uu :DDD

5: Describe their cozy night in.

— Utsuki/Haru:

Since both of them are high schoolers and live with their parents/guardians, spending a night together is kind of an occasion in of itself, but still, like, a cozy, casual "date"

it's girl's night! at least that's what Haru tells her parents ^^;;

they don't care, especially if Utsuki is staying over after a study session that went on too long. As long as their daughter is doing good in school it's fine

if they're not too tired and don't have class the next day, they'll make/get something sweet to eat, watch a nostalgic movie, maybe do a craft together and chat until the early morning, all as quietly as possible as to not bother anyone past bedtime

Haru isn't all that comfortable with touch, so she actually prefers to sleep in separate beds. it still feels very close tho, as they keep talking (whispering) to each other even after the lights are out, until one of them falls asleep <33

11: Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Can the other still tell?

— Dália/Saeran & Ray

It depends on how long has passed since the events of the canon story, but mostly yes on Dália's side. I mean she doesn't even let HERSELF acknowledge those feelings...

I interpret Saeran as a system: host Saeran, who Dália is dating and is the one fronting most of the time; suit Saeran, who prefers to keep his distance from her (and vice versa tbh); and Ray, who is also kinda dating Dália but he fronts way less and isn't as present as Saeran, so their relationship is more of a d/s dynamic than that of girlfriend/boyfriend

Being the one that knows her best, host Saeran doesn't hide his feelings at all, and he notices if she tries to do so. It's also with him that she's most comfortable being open with, so note the "if"

Ray tries to hide his feelings bc he's ashamed, but fails. He's usually too flustered and in his own head to notice when Dália hides things from him, tho

Suit hides his feelings AND knows Dália also does, but he doesn't want to pry and just leaves it be. He feels guilty for what happened in the main story, and Dália keeps her distance bc she's too scared to confront her own feelings about it.

20: Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

— Lazarus/Griffith:

I like this one bc it focuses more on the 'secret' part of 'secret relationship', which is just crucial to laz and griff's whole thing

Before lovers, they're confidants. yeah, lazarus is completely obsessed with griffith, but griffith doesn't even like him that much (at least at first) The only reason he kept him around is because Lazarus offered a secrecy no one else could, and would THEN come to form a bond with him based on that trust.

Lazarus is basically the family doctor for the royalty, on top of being very knowledgeable about poisons and a bit of an alchemist (nerd) So his job is to listen to nobles sharing their physical weaknesses and gross secrets and telling them abt each different poison whenever someone feels like doing an assassination. (he never participates and will refuse to even listen to anything related, hes just a "I'm here to share my scientific expertise with my patients; whatever they choose to do with that information is not my business" kinda guy)

basically, he's privy to A LOT of stuff, and has lasted so long in that position bc he takes patient confidentiality REALLY FUCKING SERIOUSLY. and then he sees griffith for the first time ever and decides he'll make an exception for this random twink. lol.

So Griffith is drawn to him as a resource for political games and shit, right? but then, also, Lazarus is someone that Griffith doesn't have to impress. He's already obsessed with him, he's not a noble able to give him land or titles, and he's not a hawk putting his faith in Griffith's dream, so there's no outside pressure for Griffith to maintain his facade.

There's literally nothing Griffith COULD do that Lazarus would blame him for, even if it's outright evil shit. If Griffith is weak or tired or conflicted in front of Lazarus, he'd never tell anyone or think less of griffith, so it's him, and only him, that griff seeks out when he needs help

in short, their bond is based on that trust and secrecy rather than, like, attraction. they're not really lovers, i'd say they're co-conspirators with benefits 😌😌

[introverted-author]

Questions 11, 12, 16, 20, 23, 26, 29, 31, 38, 39, 42, 45?(sorry if it's too much)

Haha don't worry about it, I'm bored and need something to do :D

11. Which season had the best ending?

I love the ending of S2 with the Snow Ball!! It was nice to see the party and a few of the older kids just enjoying normal life to some degree (plus it was the first time I thought Jopper might be a possibility!!)

I also really love the end of S3 though, even if it makes me sob lol

12. Favourite quote?

I can't really think of any of the top of my head anamskdkmfnt but I think when Nancy and her mother are talking after she gets fired in S3 and Karen tells her that she's a fighter and always has been. Basically that whole discussion is AMAZING!!

16. Favourite deceased character?

Alexie!!! I loved him so much and he did not deserve that ending!! He was so happy at the fair 🥺

20. Favourite emotional moment?

How could I not say Robin's coming out scene?? To see lesbian representation done SO WELL in a show I love was just so validating and made me so happy!! I also love that Steve didn't make a big deal of it and just carried on teasing Robin as he always does. I really hope Robin will come out to some more people next season, especially Nance!!

23. Who has the best hairstyle throughout all the seasons?

Well I would say Nancy, but I really didn't like her hair in S3 😭

So instead I'm gonna say El!! I particularly love her hair in S2 and I was kinda upset when it all got cut off in S4.

26. Favourite icecream flavour?

Cookies and cream, although I also really like vanilla!!

29. Opinion on Jopper?

I LOVE THEM!!! I didn't ship it at first in S2 when I started to sense something was up but when we got to S3 and 4 I was shipping them so hard!!! And I freaked out when they actually finally kissed!!! They better get their date at Enzo's next season...

31. When was the first time you watched Stranger Things and how long have you been an fan?

I started watching it in early March. I had been to hospital the previous night and I was EXHAUSTED and my parents had watched it and my best friend likes it, so I decided to spend the day watching it. Obviously, I loved it haha!!

38. Top five favourite songs in the soundtrack?

Ohmigosh I love 80s music now haha thanks Stranger Things!! My favourites are probably (in no particular order):

1. Running Up That Hill

2. Every Breath You Take

3. Seperate Ways (Worlds Apart)

4. (I Just) Died In Your Arms Tonight (I did love this song before the show though)

5. California Dreaming

39. Opinion on Billy?

I think Billy's character is really interesting. I hated him at first but came to sympathise with him (although his trauma does not excuse his behaviour). I was quite upset when he died.

42. Opinion on the Wheeler family?

NANCY IS THE BEST AND I WANT HER TO BE MY GIRLFRIEND!!!

All that aside though, I find the dynamic between Karen and Ted really interesting and I also love how Nancy starts to be more open with Karen over time. Holly should be protected at all costs!! And I don't really like Mike, I find his character annoying, but I often like the Mike written in fanfic lol

45. Have you read any of the additional content?

I finished reading Rebel Robin the other day!! I loved it so much, I really saw myself and my journey with my sexuality represented in a way I hadn't seen before. I was laughing a lot cause (beside it being an entertaining book) I had experienced a lot of the same thoughts and confusion as Robin when trying to figure myself out. I'm now waiting to get Runaway Max from the library!!

[lucygraysboy]

“hm? and what exactly would i be hiding, lucy gray? are you seriously trying to pick a fight with me after not seeing me for six months?” billy refrains from rolling his eyes, but it’s only because there are more important reactions happening inside his body that he has to focus on and try to control — his cheeks are growing warmer by the second, his palms getting clammy, not to mention his traitorous heart… hammering inside his chest, getting so loud that he wonders if she can hear it. no, that’s impossible. fuck. she’s always had a way of seeing right through him, and it stresses him out. “yeah, it is what it’s called, but it’s not like… it sounds weird coming from you, okay?” something about the way she says it sounds so unnatural and makes his skin crawl. “i only said it once when i was upset. it’s not like i throw curse words left and right.” shaking his head, he decides to just take a deep breath and focus on his sandwich. his heart is still pounding, but at least it’s keeping him from fighting her over his phone. he’s willing to sacrifice it as long as it means she doesn’t try to figure out what exactly it is that he’s hiding from her. he can hear his phone buzzing and gets curious, but doesn’t dare just put a hand between her thighs out in public to retrieve it. with a mouthful of cheese and bacon, he shifts a bit in his seat and gently nudges his girlfriend. “wanna see,” he mumbles around the food, covering his mouth with the palm of his hand to keep it from falling out.

@/boob_olinger: @/bhbonney ??? whathefuck 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻 @/boob_olinger: why you ad her 🖕🏻 whats wrong with u @/boob_olinger: porcupine my ass lol @/beckwith.john: @/bhbonney no gfs allowed  @/beckwith.john: remove her @/boob_olinger: HOW @/realjessevans: lmao @/realjessevans: LMFAO!! PORCUPINE @/realjessevans: hi lucy 

“i don’t know, just sounded passive aggressive is all.” lucy gray mumbled, now having to decide if he’s covering it up or she really had it wrong. “thought you was makin’ bein’ a virgin a bad thing.” she adds, since now a new reminder comes up when he acted like it was a bad one. like he had to be cool to fit in with jesse and olinger who were bedding someone new every night, which was gross. “and besides all that, i don’t think you have to be a virigin to read it. you can probably be someone well experienced and enjoy a book like that.” she didn’t like this kind of book, but she was still thinking he was being passive aggressive about being a virgin. “what do you mean yo, dude? i’m not a member of the motherfuckers.” she quietly steams, staring a hole through her half empty plate of waffle as her fork continues to be squeezed to death. “but it doesn’t seem important to me.” especially when it’s fake. but she’s too mad to finally let him in the the know of that. shoulders shrug, ignoring why she lashed out on the waitress. because she was letting a past experience and the way her mother got treated turn her into a crazy person, she thinks. “people change all the time, so how do i know.” he changed up on her by running away for months on end and shutting her out, how does she know he didn’t go and adopt billy taupe’s same mindset over the last half of year. feeling his fingers wrap around her arm, she releases the death grip on her fork and places it down. then eyes start to water at the reminder there’s only this weekend, maybe she is getting over worked and emotional for more than just billy taupe. even though it still makes her mad about his dumb pms comment. “protected how? just because you hide it from me, while they run all over top of you? i’ll fix it myself.” she’ll either get on her account and block bob olinger or jump onto his and block him on billy’s account, her decision is still up in the air.

[neonponders]

Tailor Steve who meets Billy years later and things 👀 happen 👀

This got long as hell so here’s an ao3 link ~

• • • • • • •

“Come in!”

Steve had heard the bell on his door but was more so telling himself to get through the maze of his studio to enter the shopfront to see a smiling woman and -

“Hargrove?”

For a long second, Billy Hargrove just stared at him. Shorter hair now, and a gold stud in his ear, but still the same sun-soaked freckles and hot blue eyes. Then, like a memory plucked right out of the water’s of Steve’s brain to smack him like a fish, Billy grinned. “Harrington. The one and only.”

“You know each other?” the woman asked. Steve focused on smiling at her and holding out his hand.

“We went to high school together. Like, a million years ago.”

“Maybe nine or so,” Billy corrected. Steve took the moment that the woman glanced at Billy running his hand through a shelf of fabrics to swallow for composure.

“What can I help you two with today?”

Dark, hazel eyes followed her hand reaching behind Billy’s back as she narrated, “This one needs a suit. We haven’t been able to find anything he likes, so Mr. High Standards needs one custom.”

Steve nodded. Suits were not his favorite things to make, but he’d done it before. “Sure. What’s the occasion?”

“White tie event,” she said.

“Oh. Classy,” Steve remarked, but he started observing these two with a more appraising eye. He didn’t remember Billy having money, but...a long time had passed. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you his manager?”

She blinked vacantly at him before epiphany made her laugh. “I’m his partner. His personal assistant needed a break from this errand.”

Steve laughed with her and strolled to the other side of the shop. “Oh, then I should show you the expensive fabrics, in case you get inspired.”

Even Billy chuckled at that, but they soon had to separate for Steve to do his job and for the lady to duck out for her own errands. Billy sauntered behind Steve into his studio behind the shop: a largish room with a couple of island counters featuring cutting mats and padding for needles to stick right into the table top.

Billy’s fingertips slid over the silk satin of a half-finished garment on one of the tables. With a measured breath, he said each word carefully, like he were calculating as he said, “When did you get into sewing?”

Steve inhaled deeply to sigh, “Well. When your dad ironically cuts you off while still demanding that you attend hoity toity dinners...you learn how to make cheap stuff work. Turns out, I’m kinda good at this.”

Billy slowly turned to take in the whole room: the shelves of things he had seen but didn’t know what they did. A pegboard that looked straight out of a garage but instead carried a whole rainbow-organized display of threads as well as more scissors than Billy thought a person needed. Square shelves of fabric next to horizontal rows of fabric bolts.

“I’d say you’re more than good at this. You own a couture business.”

“I got a backer,” he elaborated with a nervous smile. “A, uh, few. Some old ladies aren’t just rose perfume and mothballs. When they asked where I got my clothes and I said I made them, livelihood wasn’t such a bleak thing anymore. But anyways, take your time going through these catalogues.”

Billy focused on the thick tomes of magazines Steve heaved onto one of the tables. The latter prompted, “I remember you seemed to know what you liked, so...find stuff you like, and then I’ll take your measurements.”

A warm smirk moved Billy’s features as he took Steve’s place before the magazines. He spared a moment to watch Steve go around the room to the other table, working while Billy perused.

The magazine featured editorial quality images of various tuxedos, as well as pattern spreads and instructions on making one’s own patterns based on the styles within. Billy lazily turned the pages until he did start to see things he liked.

“This.”

Steve perked up and came around to see the images. Billy felt his warmth through the air as he pointed. “The higher waist?”

Billy hummed a confirming sound but turned the page to another example. “But the round labels.”

“Sure. Do you want coattails?”

“No.”

“Okay. How shiny do you want it to be?”

“Just like this. Shiny lapels but only semi-gloss on everything else. Not matte, or it’ll be dusty.”

Steve lifted his eyes with a smile. “Not all blacks are the same black. Let me show you.”

Billy felt a chill as his warmth moved elsewhere. Plucked a pile of folded fabric from one of the cubby shelves to scatter and compare on the table. “Velvet looks great, but I don’t recommend it unless you want to be a walking lint roller. Still, some blacks look really good without being shiny.”

Steve wasn’t wrong. Billy liked how velvet absorbed light and soon touched the same alternative fabric on which Steve had his hand. “This one.”

Steve brightened. “It’s good, right? I need to order more, though. How soon is your shindig?”

“A month. Is that enough time?”

Steve’s glow dimmed somewhat. “I’ll need to order it with express shipping, but - ”

“I’ll pay,” Billy disregarded.

“No, I didn’t mean that. Just - it might be down to the wire, that’s all. If you’re busy, regular fittings might be hard to do.”

“I can make time. Order it,” Billy finished before he meandered to the cubbies with silk alternatives. “And a waistcoat?”

Steve’s brows lifted and he scratched his forehead in a fleeting gesture, that hand moving right into a help yourself movement. Billy tossed the stack of silk onto the table, the fabric sliding like a deck of cards in front of Steve’s waiting hands. He moved them one by one over Billy’s selected body fabric until he selected the right one for the lapels, but then Billy lifted a different one for the waistcoat. A deep red that moved like black ink in the shadow, or golden-orange sunlight right where the light struck it. The floral pattern woven into it shined or receded into the shadow.

“It’s a white tie event, you said?” Steve clarified. “Those are usually very penguin-esc, right?”

“Penguins have colors,” Billy disregarded. “I like this.”

“It’s a dupioni silk. It’s woven with two different threads so it has that duo-chrome effect, but it also has this linear texture that some people don’t like. This is going to be very bright if it’s your whole waistcoat.”

Billy did not verbally agree with that, but instead said, “Line my jacket with it and make it the back of the vest. I want to see it, even if I’m the only one who knows it’s there.”

Steve set it with the other stack of fabrics and made some notes on pad of paper. Tearing those off, he pinned them directly to the table beside the stack. Billy’s eyes tracked every movement; how Steve lay on his stomach to write, halfway crawling on the table with a certain familiarity like -

“You move like you live here.”

Standing once more, Steve flashed a smile and laughed, “Yeah, I do. I mean, stuff needs to be ready for clients, right?”

But Billy leaned against the table while looking behind them at a very discrete door. The glass window revealed it to be covering a narrow staircase. “What’s up there?”

“My loft.”

“Then you have a weak excuse to be late for anything.”

Steve didn’t have a response for that. So he neglected to give one and instead held up his measuring tape. “Can I measure you while you look at white silks?”

Billy removed his casual jacket and easily picked a gentle off-white for the front of his waistcoat. Steve, meanwhile, tickled his skin by moving the tape across his shirt, measuring the mantle of his shoulders. He had a whole pre-made diagram printed out that he filled in with all of Billy’s measurements.

Billy let Steve move his limbs how ever he needed them. Felt the slide of the tape and the rustle of textile as he cinched the tape around his arms. Heard the soft hush of Steve’s breath as he moved the tape around Billy’s torso. Chest. Waist. Hips. Knelt on the floor for his outer leg and inseam.

The scratch of the pencil was loud on the paper.

“Okay. I think you’re good for today.”

Billy swallowed and started easing his arms back into his jacket sleeves before deciding against it. Too warm.

“When do you want me back?”

“I can have your waistcoat done as early as this weekend. I’d suggest picking out a shirt or two, and then come in ready to try those on with the vest. My appointment calendar is out front.”

Billy led the way this time to the shopfront, but lingered behind the counter beside Steve. The latter withdrew a large calendar meant to be hung up on a wall, but Billy watched his name get written in ink, and paid the consultation deposit.

Come the weekend, he arrived alone.

Steve poked his head out of the studio when the bell chimed on the door. “Hey! Can you wait a few minutes? I’m just finishing up.”

Billy did, and smiled kindly at the prior client leaving. Or rather, clients.

Billy walked right into the studio after the shop door twittered closed and found Steve putting away the materials for the mother and daughter. Billy teased, “Princess gown for a birthday or something?”

Steve glanced at him and corrected, “Ballet apparel. Activewear is not a regular commission for me, but when your kid is allergic to every kind of plastic out there, you need to have a hookup for natural fibers with stretch. Do you have a shirt picked out?”

Billy lifted the pair of shirts in his hand, still ironed and folded perfectly so he looked like a waiter holding a tray. Steve moved a sapphire velvet curtain that revealed a closet or butler’s pantry that had been renovated into a changing room. “Take your time, and here’s your vest. Be gentle. I haven’t finished the seams.”

Steve’s words petered off as he watched Billy’s mouth part at the sight of the vest. It was small, simple, but the little curve of relief and intrigue on his features seemed...genuine. More genuine than how Billy walked with a meticulous, conscious gait. In high school it had been all hauteur and bravado. Now it was quiet and controlled; the difference between a wild cat running versus walking.

The curtain shut behind him and Steve allowed himself his own smile of fascinated relief. Steve Harrington and Billy Hargrove were known for not getting along. Meeting by chance now, years later, was...nice. Whatever had happened and changed in Billy’s life seemed to be doing him much better than the shit show of high school. Steve could hardly fault him with his own home life circumstances.

Yes, it helped to have a client who was extremely attractive. Steve used to despise Billy all the more for being handsome and knowing it, but now he made a note in Billy’s client papers to later ask if he’d let a photographer get some shots for Steve’s portfolio. It would be nice to show clients his own work as often as the magazines.

And he really hated making suits, so he didn’t have many of those to show off.

“Steve,” he heard a second before the brass hoops scraped with the curtain opening. He came around to see Billy in the shirt and vest, cuffs and collar wide open. Between the white front and the vampire sunset on the back, Billy looked like an ember in a smithy fire.

Steve put his hands on his hips and smiled. “What do you think?”

Billy rotated to see himself in the massive mirror again. “I like it. But not this strap.”

He reached behind him to touch the adjustable strap behind his waist. Steve offered, “Do you want it perfectly tailored to you? I can do that, but the fittings might take longer.”

“That’s fine. Should I take this off?”

“Nope. Just stand still.”

Steve reached for something on one of the tables and set a magnet covered in pins beside them before turning Billy all the way around by the shoulders. With the reflection at his disposal, Billy heard and watched Steve seam rip the back of the waistcoat. The strap and buckle landed on the table, tossed aside. Steve pulled a white pencil from behind his ear and marked things Billy couldn’t see.

Every so often, Steve peeked up to also use the mirror. Billy felt the fabric cinch around his waist during these time, like Steve wanted to make sure it looked right from the front.

Billy blinked out of a reverie when Steve’s arms wrapped around his front to undo the buttons. “Gently. You’re full of pins back here.”

Billy let him ease the vest off his shoulders and stepped out of it. Steve laid it carefully on the table and asked, “I have a mockup started of your jacket. Do you want to try it? It’s still rough.”

“I’ll try it.”

It certainly was rough. Billy felt like he was wearing painter’s canvas, and it did not have the lapels yet, but the silhouette looked right.

By that point, the bell on the door chimed and Steve ushered, “Take your time changing. I’ll be right back.”

But Steve didn’t come back.

Billy switched back into his comfortable clothes and emerged upon Steve laughing and chatting with his girlfriend. She cocked her hip, weight bouncing to one side when she saw him. “There you are. How’s it going?”

Steve slouched with his elbows on the calendar. Billy heard himself reply, “Good. Real good. What do I owe you?”

Steve shook his head and reached for a pen. “Just fitting appointments till it’s done.”

Billy looked at the calendar and pointed to an available date while he asked, “Did the fabric get here?”

Steve wrote his name and answered, “It should be here a couple of days before I see you again. You’ll be able to try on the vest and pants.”

Billy went around the counter and opened his arm for the woman to step against his body. “Till next time, Steve.”

However, the next time Billy walked into the shop, he immediately gripped the bell to make it quiet.

Arguing.

He knew the tone without hearing the words, so he carefully shut the shopfront and tread close to the studio door.

“...such a prick - ”

“I’m not a prick for wanting to see you.”

“And the fact that I got a shipment in this week is just a happy coincidence,” Steve scoffed. “Get the hell out.”

“No. We’re going to talk about this. About us.”

“Us? Us being how you got in my pants just to steal from my shop? Or how you’re due for a restraining order for spying on my packages?”

“I’m not spying - !”

A man. Steve was arguing with a man.

A man whose head whipped around when Billy stepped into the room. Then he had the gall to hiss at Steve, “Who’s this?”

“My client, jackass - ”

Billy’s hand gripped the front of Steve’s sweater as he stepped in between them, moving Steve behind him. Half of his mind stayed on Steve’s hands gripping him in return, but Billy was still stronger than him.

The man exclaimed, “I ought to call the police on you, handling a person like that!”

Billy replied, deadpan, “The police go where the money is. I can have a restraining order faster than it would take a judge to write it. Get lost and stay lost.” He turned his head, implying his next words were for Steve. “Does this place have security?”

“Infrared cameras. Finally,” Steve breathed, and there it was. The man’s face paled a second before he clenched his jaw and threw his weight into eager steps to get the hell out of there. Billy rotated in time to see the way Steve grimaced at the audibly rough handling of his shop door and bell.

He rubbed his face, dislodging his glasses as he said, “I’m sorry you had to walk in on that.”

“I didn’t know you wear glasses.”

Often, clearly, by the unconscious, practiced way Steve readjusted them with a simple push. The golden metal frames suited him.

“Aging,” he tried to say with humor but added, “My vision goes when I’m tired. Long days get glasses. And your fabric is expensive, but I guarded it with my life. I already put your vest and trousers in the dressing room.”

“Do you really have security footage?”

Steve had trouble steeling his features. Between work fatigue and the extremely recent encounter - Into Steve’s pants, huh? - Steve nodded almost sadly. “Yeah, but I haven’t looked at it yet.”

“Well when you do, send me the files.”

“Billy - ”

“Steve,” he finished, twirling around to shut the dressing room curtain behind him with a benevolent glare.

The pants were unfinished, but they looked good and the waistcoat shined just how he wanted. Billy opened the curtain for Steve to take a look, and got immediately met with, “Wait! You’re barefoot, stay in there. There’s always a needle hiding out here.”

So Billy stood in front of the mirror on a pillowed stool Steve brought in, and the latter sat on the floor. With his magnetic bowl of needles beside his hip, Steve took his time hemming the trouser legs. They didn’t say much. Then again, they didn’t need to. But Billy felt the difference between Steve professionally moving around one ankle with as little touch as possible, and then wearing down to lean his knuckles against Billy’s skin.

Steve looked up at him in the mirror’s reflection. “How’s that? You can take some steps if you need to.”

Billy did, and even slipped into his shoes to get a better idea of how the legs hung. “Half a centimeter higher.”

Shoes off, he stepped back onto the stool. Steve scooted around him again, measuring the first needle adjustment and then working by memory.

Billy didn’t need the higher hem. But he didn’t want to leave, and heard himself ask, “Beyond cameras, what’s your security?”

“It’s not your job to worry about me,” Steve groaned at his feet.

“An asshole knowing where you sleep warrants new locks.”

“Thank you. Billy,” Steve finished flatly.

“I meant it about the footage.”

“You’ll get it. Even though I don’t know how you’ll swing a restraining order for me.”

Billy stood quietly for a moment. Then, “I have experience getting them for people.”

He watched in the mirror as Steve peeked up at him and said, “I’m sorry.”

Billy frowned at himself. “What are you apologizing for?”

“Nothing specific. Just life’s bullshit. You’re done.”

He stood up and stretched his lumbar while Billy felt out the hems. “What do I have, a week or two before your event?”

“Two,” Billy confirmed as Steve left the dressing room and closed the curtain for him to change.

“Okay. I’ll have your jacket ready for your next fitting.”

Like Cinderella hearing the clock strike, Billy heard the shopfront bell, and Steve’s subsequent footsteps to meet his next client.

Billy grit his jaw, wanting...something. But Steve passed by the curtain and out of the room. Billy changed clothes, leaving the items on a sewing table. And while Steve wrote his next appointment, Billy slipped Steve’s hair behind his ear.

Dark eyes blinked and lifted to blue ones, but not angrily. Vacant. Puzzled. Receptive.

Billy held his gaze as he rounded the counter, and then left.

Steve had his business card on file, but only used the email on it to send the security camera footage.

Except, for a phone call. Billy held his breath when he answered, listening to Steve’s voice ask for confirmation that he could still make his appointment the next day. Steve had never called for a confirmation before. Billy gripped his phone, ear searching Steve’s voice while he reassured, “You’ve got me locked in.”

A pause.

A pause? Billy couldn’t be sure. He just knew -

You seemed to know what you liked, so...find stuff you like.

- he liked. He wanted.

“Okay. See you tomorrow,” Steve finished. Billy pressed the corner of his phone against his lips, wanting to have heard frustration or even nerves in Steve’s voice. He was certain he did. He wasn’t certain of anything.

Billy knocked on the doorjamb of the studio the following afternoon, but was not greeted immediately. In the late afternoon, Steve had turned on warm lights to give the storefront an almost fairytale ambiance, in which he noticed the calendar was still on the counter. He read how the appointment after Billy had been marked out with an arrow pointing to its rescheduled date. Billy was the last appointment of the day.

“Hey,” Steve greeted breathily, like he had rushed from somewhere. Billy stepped through to the studio, and Steve waved the jacket in the air like a tablecloth. “The lining’s not in there yet but give it a shot.”

Billy took it while observing the disarray of the room. Steve was certainly in the middle of several projects at once. A clothesline hung alongside the far wall, hanging with fabric, pieces in various stages of completion, and ribbons. The iron stood on the table with Billy’s lining silk, no doubt awaiting to be cut. His hands moved over his jacket, still warm but fading from its time with the iron.

“Take your time. Make sure it’s right,” Steve prompted, running his hands through his hair. Billy’s lips parted. With the clothesline blocking out what natural light remained in the day, and all the warm lighting making up for it, it felt much later than it was.

Billy closed the curtain and scrubbed a hand over his face. He dressed in his semi-finished tuxedo while listening to the soft hiss of steam from the iron. When he stepped out, he walked quietly up to Steve ironing and pining stencils to the silk. Billy let his body line up flush with Steve’s, leg knocking his congenially.

Steve looked at him, before dropping his gaze to the suit. “How is it?”

“Good,” Billy purred, eyes roaming over Steve’s work table. He felt interested and...oddly at peace in Steve’s creative space. “Better than good. The invitation implied I’d have to wear one of those starched dickey things. I’d rather drive my Camaro off a cliff.”

Steve smiled but asked, “You still have that car?”

Billy pointed a very Billy look at him. “Of course I still have that car.”

Steve’s eyes flicked up behind his glasses, rolling briefly. “Right. You’re still the same Hargrove. Take a lap, feel it out. Sit down and stuff. Make sure it does everything you need it to do.”

So he did. Billy wandered the studio, feeling every fabric along the way. He sat at one of the stools and tested the groin by opening and closing his knees. He swung his arms around. He watched Steve cut the panels for his jacket lining. And write directly on the fabric with his tailors’ pencils. Eventually Billy realized, “Is that my fabric? I thought I had flowers.”

Steve turned one of the pieces over, revealing said flowers. “Some fabrics have two sides. You iron silk on the back side.”

“I don’t think I’ve ironed a thing in my life.”

A small smile curved on Steve’s face without looking at him. “I didn’t either. Until I realized it calmed me down. Is the suit okay?”

Billy nodded and stood up. “It will be once the lining is done. When will that be?”

Steve followed him to the dressing room, but Billy noted how Steve’s head tilted like a bird, observing how the fabric move over the back of him. Then he reached for the curtain to close it for Billy; the same time Billy lifted an elbow high up to say, “I think there’s a needle in here. It’s been poking me.”

“What?” Steve blurted, alarmed. He stepped close to hold the fabric off of Billy’s pit and ribs -

Billy’s arm draped over him, hand on the back of Steve’s hair making him look up just in time for Billy’s lips to touch his own.

Soft. A test. As quickly as Steve instinctively kissed back, he jabbed, “You smooth shit - ”

He’d kissed back.

Billy turned fully to him as his hands pushed into Steve’s hair, cradling his head. Billy kept his lips soft, wanting to feel Steve’s mouth. But as soon as he sealed their mouths, he parted to tilt his head. Another angle. More.

Steve hummed a little, surprised sound, and then a louder one as Billy pulled him through the curtain into the dressing room. Air rushed out of him when Billy pressed him to the wall, hands moving down to Steve’s waist -

It wasn’t the soft flesh Billy wanted. He lifted his lips to stare down at Steve’s abdomen curved flush against him before outright yanking the button-up out of his jeans. He heard Steve’s wet swallow and hot blue eyes met shaded brown ones. “Is this a corset?”

“A back brace,” Steve croaked.

“It’s too pretty to be a back brace,” Billy purred. Warned. He thumbed at the silken, honey fabric wrapping, admittedly, only around Steve’s waist and lumbar. But it was pretty, and Billy began slipping those buttons free to see more -

One of Steve’s hands moved to Billy’s chest. “We should - ”

Billy kissed him, cutting off his words and yanking his pelvis forward so Billy’s arm could hook behind his back.

“ - shouldn’t. Billy - hahmm...”

Steve tasted Billy’s tongue, and he was lost. His arms went around Billy’s neck, clutching him tightly as the tip of that tongue teased Steve’s lips open and fucked his mouth. Steve’s leg wrapped around Billy without him realizing, but Billy pressed himself into Steve, causing the latter to detach with a gasp and a strangled sound when Billy rutted against him.

“Ahh! Fuck, ow, my jeans - ”

Billy all but ripped the jeans closure open, zipper grating open before he left it to attend to Steve’s shirts again. The damned outer button-up and the t-shirt underneath the brace - Billy threw one to the floor and yanked on the other till it was free and it went too. He wanted to leave that silk on Steve’s skin. Wanted to see Steve chest and nipples, and got it.

“On the floor. Lie down. Steve...”

It wasn’t graceful, but they made it to the floor with Steve kicking off his jeans and Billy shoving his boxer briefs halfway down his thighs until Steve got at least one leg free. Steve’s hands slipped between them to open Billy’s newly made trousers while hard and soft kisses alike drew whines and moans from Steve’s throat.

When the velvet of Billy’s erection touched Steve’s, Billy ate Steve’s shuddering moan directly from his lips. In the humid space, Billy’s hand tipped a finger into Steve’s mouth, gathering spit at the risk of unready teeth scraping over his digit joints. A line of glistening spit followed him out, making Billy wonder if Steve was a drooler. His cock only kicked at the thought, making him throb with need.

Steve panted as the finger found his ass and nudged inside. He haphazardly removed his glasses from his face, now too heavy. He tossed them somewhere as Billy worked on his ass.

“Ah! Easy,” Steve warned, taking Billy in hand to hopefully calm him down. Make him patient. Or resigned. “We don’t have lube - ”

“Steve,” Billy hushed, and continued his turmoil over Steve’ throat. Steve stroked him, firm but slow as Steve dripped more pre than he’d like to admit from the sounds Billy made. Guttural, breathy moans deep from his chest that stirred Steve’s brain like a stew. His breath hitched at the second finger inside of him.

“Spit in my hand.”

Steve’s head turned, either confused or incredulous at the waiting palm. In the deliriousness of the moment, he did, only to blurt a disgusted laugh at Billy adding own right to it. His giddiness flowed right into, “That’s not gonna work,” but as he watched Billy slick himself up, Steve knew they were close. His own erection bobbed with his heartbeat, glistening with pre and just the thought of having Billy’s mouth on him made a pearly bead slip out of his hole...

Steve heard it like it was a thousand miles away.

The bell on his door.

Billy matched his cockhead with Steve’s entrance the same time the latter clenched his arms. “Billy!” he breathed. “Wait. Someone’s here.”

To Billy’s credit, he did. His head turned a little to better hear a familiar voice call, “Steve? Billy!”

In the sudden quiet, their breaths were loud. So were her footsteps drawing nearer. Both Steve and Billy made their breathing quiet when they heard the creak on the jamb separating studio from shopfront. “Steve?”

Steve’s grip tightened on Billy. The curtain was closed. Mostly. Anyone looking through the cracks would see. See Steve with his legs folded up and around Billy. His underwear hanging off one leg and Billy’s slacks pushed halfway down his ass...

Billy! Steve mouthed as the head of his cock slid inside. Even the scratch of textile was loud. All Steve could do was control his breathing and hope that the rustle of his hair on the floor wasn’t a siren screaming behind the curtain. He grimaced at the hot push of Billy inside; felt Billy’s breath follow the line of the engorged vein in his throat.

The doorjamb creaked again with the press of a foot stepping out of the studio. Billy failed to keep his voice in when he sighed upon bottoming out. Like a trip wire had been cut, he started to move. Short thrusts due to their lack of lube, but their mutual, Hahh, ah! Ah!, brought them to clumsy, hard, finishes.

A little huff of shock came out of Steve when Billy pressed their noses together. Everything felt too stuffy, all of him molten. Warmth and relief after pleasure, and utterly terrified. Steve felt the choice to languish in afterglow or to push Billy off of him.

He chose the latter, looking down and sighing at the miracle that was his cum on his own front instead of Billy’s new clothes. The latter landed on his side but rolled close to him, nose in Steve’s hair until Steve sat up.

“Get dressed. She’s probably waiting in the front.”

“She probably left,” Billy refuted, but Steve already snapped his boxer brief waistband into place. Billy stood with him, thinking of the loft upstairs. “Let me clean you up - ”

“Steve?” they heard again.

Billy loathed how fast Steve got dressed. Jeans and t-shirt on, he left in a breeze to distract the woman and apologize for taking so long. Billy heard some bullshit about him being in the bathroom, he’ll be down soon, etc. etc...

“I’ll have your suit delivered as soon as it’s done,” Steve promised when he emerged from the studio.

Billy’s features hardened. “There’s time for another fitting.”

“It’ll be ready,” Steve shook his head. “It’s up to you to know how to tie a bowtie, though.”

The woman laughed, hooking her arm through Billy’s after he paid. Steve did it all stoically, like he didn’t have Billy’s cum soaking into his underwear, nor that Billy’s sex smell had been left behind in the dressing room and his soon-to-be-finished tux.

“Thank you so much, Steve,” she said as they parted.

“Have a good night,” he returned, not looking at either of them. Billy felt like he’d left his body in that dressing room. When his girlfriend asked why he wasn’t listening to her, he excused himself for not feeling well.

Steve closed the shop early. He sat on the floor of his shower, hands over his mouth, wrestling with abject horror and molten feelings still lingering in his bones. The longer the water took to wash through him, the more he felt better...

Until he picked up the garments Billy had left on one of his tables. Lifted them to his face the way he had after every single fitting. Breathing him in...this time smelling more. Christ, Billy had always smelled good. Cleaned up nicely. His aroma had evolved but he still smelled like a man in the best way.

With heavy eyes, Steve scratched out the note about a photographer in Billy’s customer notes. Steve would never survive a photoshoot. He’d finish the ensemble, send it to Billy’s residence or office, and -

Today would be the last time Steve ever saw him. Saw them. Partner, she’d said. Billy had never said anything.

Before his sanity either exploded or abandoned ship, Steve vacuumed the dressing room and studio. Then he took the jacket and lining pieces upstairs to hand sew the thing while something mind-numbing played on television.

He ironed it a final time.

Tried it on himself. The jacket was loose on him. Billy’d always had more meat on his bones, but their frames were similar. Steve sewed in his tag, like an artist’s signature, and then arranged the ensemble in the hangers of the traveling bag.

He felt...sad, seeing the delivery man walk out of the shop with it. This hadn’t happened since he’d first started taking commissions. Like he didn’t trust his own patrons with the clothes he made. Now, he usually felt good to get a thing of labor out of his shop and pay his bills. But...every now and then...something hurt. Like Steve had accidentally sewn a piece of himself into the material. Another fragment of his soul, gone. He didn’t know how many he had left.

Billy got the email informing him of the impending delivery. His personal assistant caught it, tipped the delivery person, and unzipped it to see for herself. She whistled. “Nothing like a crisp, custom designed suit. Armani couldn’t do this for you?”

Billy didn’t respond. He gazed at the email from Steve’s shop the way he had been over the last hour.

“Uh oh.”

Billy grunted an acknowledging sound before her tone properly filtered through his mind. “Uh oh?”

“You know what, uh oh. Do me a favor and don’t trade mark your Uh Oh.”

His lips parted, frowning bluntly at her warning yet amused glare before she hung up the traveling bag behind his desk and strolled out of his office. “And don’t be late.”

Billy swiveled his neck for a stretch, deeply considering how worthwhile it would be to go all the way down his building for a cigarette. Should’ve invested in a place with balconies.

But he didn’t leave his office. He wanted to remember the touch of Steve’s lips, even though it had already faded to memory in the days since their...

Incident? Billy didn’t like that word. A connotation that they had done something wrong. Billy felt a fire in the back of his heart, lit with craving and only burning brighter now with fuel. Now that he knew how Steve tasted, how he sounded. Knew Steve’s softness and his heat...

He wasn’t late. Hair combed into place, face clean shaven, and all of the silk linings of his suit sliding home around his body, he was ready for the evening of costumed networking. He picked up his...date...and they met his personal assistant there.

Billy smiled, conversed, and shook hands without any of it reaching his eyes. His assistant traded business cards with other assistants and secretaries while Billy politely excused himself more and more to go to the open bar without actually ordering anything.

A deep inhalation and sigh brought his attention to his personal assistant. “Am I done yet?”

“Nope. You’re not being as discrete as you hope you are.”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Then cut whatever ties you need and let’s get this show moving.”

“That involves me leaving.”

“Then scram.”

He paused and peered at her. She raised her brows with a shake of her head. “Take your date home, at least, you ass. Make a scene on her porch, not here.”

And that he did. Billy had never had finesse when it came to getting out of a relationship, only into them.

With a searing handprint on his cheek and the roar of his engine, Billy felt angry, light, and burning.

He parked in front of Steve’s boutique. He stood out of his car and gazed up at the illuminated windows of the loft while he threw his tie on the seat and locked his car. Since it was his home and business, Billy assaulted the doorbell encased in brass beside the doors. The windows in the doors had curtains, closed against Billy being able to see Steve arrive in pajama shorts, a t-shirt, and his glasses until he whisked one of the doors open.

“What?” he barked, “What? What, dipshi - ”

Billy stepped so far into his space that his chest bumped Steve backward apart from his hand catching Steve’s nape.

“Mm - ” he grunted as Billy walked him backwards and kicked the door shut. “No - ”

“Steve,” Billy exhaled. Demanded. Begged.

“Billy, no,” Steve whined.

Billy’s fingers splayed over Steve’s cheek, thumb on his chin as he said over those lips, “I told you: you’ve got me locked in.”

Steve’s eyes gazed at him, heavy lidded as he shook his head a little. “What does that mean?”

Billy licked Steve’s lips, making him tremble. But Billy’s other arm came around his back, holding him steady and feeling soft muscle through his shirt. “It means take me upstairs. Please.”

A little breath moved out of Steve. It was the only amount of time Billy waited. He claimed Steve’s mouth, and moaned when Steve melted into him. Billy felt held when Steve’s hands found his nape, caressed through the hair behind his ears and head.

Steve did have lube upstairs. Billy filled his sheets with everything he could; his fragrance and their mutual lust. He took every touch and kiss Steve gave him through the alley of undone buttons before he finally mounted Billy. Barely unwrapped while Steve rode him naked.

After he properly undressed, he took Steve again on his stomach, lying atop pillows for comfort and access while no moans or cries went silenced or hindered. Steve came, sweet and trembling with Billy’s nose and words in his hair.

Billy missed the mirror downstairs. But they had time for that.

[reallyromealone]

Hello there! This is my first time requesting a Tumblr fic so please excuse me if I do this wrong lol

May I request Omegaverse Beta Jonathan Byers x Omega Male Reader with a domestic life and they have twins(girl and boy; maybe add a little sibling squabble 👀); And a little angst where Jonathan feels insecure about being with the reader because he isn't an alpha and reader cheers him up with his words and it's just super fluffy at the end.

Well I'm glad I'm your first!

Sorry it took so long, got a lot of asks lmao.

And you're doing great!

X

Today was stressful for Johnathan.

The twins were fighting all morning over (sons name) stealing (daughter's name)s barbie because his toy needed a girlfriend and it was just a mess for the Alpha and beta and they basically told (sons name) they would find his toy a girlfriend but to not mess with his sister's toys unless he wants her to mess with his.

And to top it off he's been hearing... comments about his mating with (name).

Mainly about how he had no business as a beta to be with an Omega like (name).

Omegas like (name) apparently need strong alphas like Billy or hell even Eddie!

He had nothing against Eddie he was great but sometimes he envied the fact he was an alpha.

He couldn't scent (name) like an alpha.

He wasn't dominating or intimidating like one either.

He was just Johnathan.

Walking in he saw the twins fighting again as (name) took the toy from them "what did we talk about sharing, if one of you is playing with a toy, the other has to wait their turn"

Glancing at Johnathan he smiled and discreetly gestured to follow him to the kitchen and the beta complied, the Omega going to a cabinet where the pups can't reach and behind the four was a bag of m&ms for baking "gimmie your hand" he whispered as the two ate their treat "(name)..." Johnathan asked hesitantly as the Omega who looked at him like he hung the moon "a-are you happy with a beta as a mate?"

"Who said otherwise?" (Name) asked hugging the other who in turn looked away "just some people around town... They think you deserve an alpha"

"I don't want an alpha, I want my sweet compassionate beta mate who wakes me with kisses and rubbed my feet when I was carrying the pups" (name) said resolutely before continuing "besides I think last night was proof enough on how happy I was to have you as a mate..." (Name) said with a shit eating grin.

"Are you sure...?" Johnathan had those puppy eyes that made (name) weak "wouldn't have let you mated me then knock me up if I wasn't 100% sure"

"I love you baby"

"I love you too my handsome beta"

[yesimwriting]

Loving how you write the dynamic between Billy, Stu, and Y/N! They seem much more possessive of her (in a "not yours, not mine, but OURS" kind of way) than they do their *actual* girlfriends, which I'm really enjoying!

Makes me wonder if they used to butt heads over who they chose to date previously. Like, gotta keep up appearances of being Normal Heterosexual Boys, but it sucks when your partner's girlfriend isn't your type.

Anyway, lovely work! Have you posted it on Ao3?

ahh thank you!! and no, i don't write on Ao3 yet, but i've been thinking about it,, i have a wattpad but this is updated a lot more frequently and wattpad is more for the occasional OC idea (might be making a scream one on there soon tho! i have some ideas lol, if anyone's interested)

i really do feel like what makes y/n special to them is that she's theirs in the sense that they both want to have her and keep her around

ohhh i love that concept...i definitely feel like the whole dating thing has definitely caused some conflict between them, especially when dating first comes up

like they've been getting closer and neither of them are big about talking about their emotions, and then billy gets asked out by a girl or stu's parents bring up that they'd love to see him with a nice girl and so they both look into it, and at first they both swear up and down that they couldn't care less bc it wouldn't really change anything

but after stu "accidentally" scares off a perfectly nice girl (it's not his fault, billy, how was stu supposed to know that she'd freak out after seeing a gutted frog the first time she came over to stu's place? he was just practicing for bio class, and technically he didn't threaten her, stu just pointed out that she and the frog had some similarities) they both come to a sort of silent agreement to not bring home anyone the other wouldn't like

which kind of leads to an era of just checking out the same girls, but more in a fantasy sense, maybe even making a game out of who can hook up with a specific girl first, and maybe picking out public girlfriends for each other to make sure no one doubts their ability to be attached to other people or their ability to be heteronormative

and its not like they never have feelings for other people at the same time, but they know their silent boundaries, and as long as they're each others top priorities everything's fine <3

i think they might've given up on the idea of finding the perfect girl worth keeping around, mainly bc of their lack of attachment to other people, but then y/n pulled up and when they both brought her up at the same time they were like 😳 (omg i think it'd be fun to write a fic/drabble that's in the final girl fic universe about billy and stu's thoughts on y/n , specifically that first discussion about her and how she caught their attention)