#dancing in a parking lot with steve

[morganbritton132]

Look, Eddie and Hopper have this whole song and dance thing going on. They’ve been doing it for years.

Hopper is the small town cop that acts like he’s tired of Eddie’s shit but is actually secretly amused by him. Eddie is the misunderstood outcast that’s a little misguided but good at heart.

It’s their thing.

Hopper catches him doing bad shit, drives him around in the back of his truck like he’s taking him to the station. They talk. Hopper lets him go a block from Forest Hills.

That’s it. That’s the thing.

Why is Hopper suddenly spending all his ‘Eddie time’ focused on Steve Harrington and his busted up face? Why is Hopper in the parking lot of Malvald’s, giving Harrington shit for driving with a concussion when he’s said nothing about Eddie’s busted taillight?

Honestly, it’s bullshit.

“This is bullshit,” Eddie declares in the backseat of Hopper’s cruiser, windows rolled down because he smells like weed and trespassing. Eddie throws himself forward, sticking his head between the front seats like, “Why does he get to sit up front?”

“I’m not a criminal,” Harrington muttered, slouched down. “I’m a hostage. I’m being held hostage.”

“I’m being falsely accused too.”

“Neither of you are being accused of anything,” Hopper finally speaks up. “And you’re not falsely accused of anything, Munson. I saw you trespassing at Hawkins Lab with my eyes. Steve…shut up.”

“Oh, he’s ’Steve’ now but I’m just ‘Munson?’ Favoritism at its finest.”

“Dude, he doesn’t even like me,” Steve says, finally looking at Eddie. “He broke into my house and took me to get tortured.”

“I took you to get a hearing test.”

“Torture,” Steve emphasizes and then a beat later, “You still got your, uh, stuff?”

“Nah, the cop took my stash,” Eddie says but giving Steve a sign that he clearly has more on him.

“Bummer,” Steve replies and then turns back around in his seat. “You can drop Eddie off with me, Hop.”

[runraerun]

Steddie Amnesia Fic — 3/3

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

wc: 3k | rating: T | cw: head trauma, brain injury talk | a special thank you to @dame-zoom-a-lot for betaing! <3

The days following Steve’s Houdini act are fuckin’ tense, to say the least.

Eddie had messed up. Royally.

He could’ve sworn that when Steve took off, he’d ducked into the Recovery Center, y’know, the place he was supposed to go! If Eddie had known Steve took a detour and missed the building entirely, Eddie would’ve ran a lot fucking faster than he had. Especially after…

Well, no point in shying away from it anymore; after Steve confessed his love for him.

And how did Eddie return the favor? By being a total bone head and losing Steve for the entire goddamn day! Not to mention a good chunk of the night. Jesus… It’s no wonder Robin’s still sore.

Now, in Eddie’s flimsy defense, Steve had thrown him for one hell of a loop. One that Eddie was still seeing double from. He’s still having trouble wrapping his head around what he’d heard; Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington, King of Hawkins High, being into Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson, the drug-dealing ne’er do well hailing from the Forest Hills trailer park. Forgive him for finding the threads a little difficult to tie together! He’s not exactly Steve’s usual fare.

But it had happened.

Things have fundamentally, metaphysically, allegorically and subatomically shifted between the two of them—there’s no getting away from that, no matter how long they try and dance around this.

Steve said he loved Eddie. Love.

That isn’t something you just move on from. At least, it isn’t something Eddie can move on from. Especially when he didn’t even get to say his piece!

The trouble is that Robin’s in all-out guard dog mode with Steve, keeping Eddie at arm's length even after a whole goddamn week goes by. Sure, she’d accepted his apology (albeit begrudgingly), but she isn’t exactly keen on letting Steve out of the house without her by his side—much less with Eddie. It would be kind of heartwarming if it weren’t so goddamn annoying.

Steve isn’t some damsel locked away in a tower, and Eddie wasn’t some knight in shining armor, planning to scale the side of a stone tower to avoid the sleeping, fire-breathing dragon…

But as Eddie stares up at the fire escape attached to the side of Steve and Robin’s brick apartment building… he'd be lying if he said he didn’t sort of feel a little shiny.

Part of Eddie can’t believe it’s really come to this, but… he just can’t stand the idea of wasting another goddamn night tossing and turning, going over and over Steve’s words in his mind. Thinking about the way Steve’s hand felt in his, the way his eyes went all soft when he told Eddie he—he loved him…

Jesus H. Christ, this is way beyond his skill set—he’s way out of fucking league here, but there’s nothing for it. Eddie needs to settle this, once and for all.

So, he takes his bandana from the back pocket of his jeans and presses the flat of it to his forehead while his hands make a tight knot in the back. He zips his leather jacket as high as it’ll go and gives his hands a shake to try and get the jitters out.

It’s not exactly a helmet and plates of armor, but it’ll have to do. Eddie takes a breath, steels himself, then climbs on top of a precariously stacked pile of milk crates that he’d crafted and leaps for the steel ladder. As soon as his feet leave the plastic tower, it collapses under him, clattering to the ground. Eddie knows he shouldn’t look back, but he sneaks a peak over his shoulder and… yep. He really shouldn’t’ve looked. He’s not that high up, but it’s enough that if he falls, he’d be feeling it tomorrow. Might even bust an ankle if he landed wrong.

He turns back to the task at hand; getting to Steve.

There’s a terrifying moment where he’s not sure if he can pull himself up, but somehow, he finds the strength to do just that. If only Coach D’Amour could see him now!

He grunts as he pulls himself up onto the platform, belly getting scratched against the grates as he goes. Eddie scrambles to get his legs underneath himself. Then, he stands, dusts himself off and takes the win, graceless as it was.

The fire escape is rickety and fucking loud as he takes the steps two at a time. It’s cold enough that even the quickest touch of the steel railings drains all the heat out of his fingers, so he just keeps them balled up, swinging at his sides. The wind is especially chilly up here too, something he hadn’t noticed on the ground, but now that he’s up a couple of floors there wasn’t anything for the wind to buff off except the side of the building and, well, Eddie.

By the time he reaches the third floor, his nose is running and no doubt red and irritated looking, and he’s woefully out of breath.

Kind of a pathetic knight, he thinks as he sniffs back the worst of it, wipes the underside of his nose on the sleeve of his jacket to get rid of what’s left.

The light in Steve’s room is on, reaching out to him through the lines of Steve’s shut blinds.

His hand is raised, wind-chapped knuckles knocking against the glass of his window before he can plan out what he’s going to say. He just wants to see Steve. Get eyes on him again. Work this out.

It’s a painful few seconds before Eddie can see movement from inside the window. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he impatiently waits for Steve to let him in. His breath fogs the window.

Then finally. Finally! The blinds are pulled up. He smiles and—

Oh Christ on a cross. That’s not Steve.

Eddie’s stomach damn near falls out of his ass as the woman on the other side of the glass screams, as shrill and high as if she were next to him.

And of course she’s in a fucking towel.

Eddie slaps one hand across his eyes and the other up in surrender, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Shit, Jesus, I—I’m not a pervert, I swear!”

Debatable, his brain supplies, entirely unhelpful in an emergency situation. But hey, what’s new?

“I was looking for my friend, not—Please stop screaming!” He screams.

“Eddie?” A familiar voice calls from below.

The hand on Eddie’s eyes lift and looks down through the metal grates under his boots. “Steve!”

Steve’s hanging half out his window, peering up at him with a bewildered expression on his face. “What’re you doing?”

Eddie holds his arms out like it should be obvious. “Seeing you!” He snaps.

Eddie’s attention is briefly yanked back to the scandalized looking woman in the window in front of him. “I’m—yeah, I’m gonna—” He backs away, and swings around the escape before thundering down the stairs, shouting another apology up in his shameful retreat.

Steve backs up in order to let Eddie in. He climbs in as gracelessly as ever, all knees and elbows, stiff from the cold. He slides the window shut behind him once he’s in, dropping the blinds for good measure.

He wonders if Hopper is getting a call about a long-haired, wild-eyed, deranged looking peeping Tom at this very moment.

“Smooth.” Steve says from behind him, an edge of playfulness.

When Eddie turns and finally gets a good look at Steve, who looks especially comfortable in his flannel sleep pants and worn sweater, hands on hips. “I was looking for you.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Steve snorts softly, “third floor, remember?”

“I counted! Ground floor, first floor, second floor, third floor.” Eddie says, using his hand to indicate his pattern of thought, moving it up a tick with each floor.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head. And even though Eddie knows Steve’s laughing at him, he can’t help that warm feeling that pours through him, filling him up. All his cracks and edges, sealed up with Steve’s effortless being.

“No.” Steve raises his own hand, mirroring Eddie’s. He begins notching as he explains, “ground floor, second floor, third floor. The ground is the first floor, dude.”

Eddie frowns. “What? Since when?”

Steve levels Eddie with a flat look. “Since like, the civil war, dude.”

Huh. Eddie frowns. Mulling over the new bit of information. That would’ve been nice to know.

“Why were you even doing out there in the first place? We have things called front doors. And, y’know, phones.” Steve crosses his arms across his chest, losing a bit of steam as the words left him. Like he’s realized exactly what Eddie being here, in his rooms, meant.

“I had to see you.” Eddie says, like it’s not the most obvious thing in the world, “Face to face, just me and you.”

“Can’t we just—I don’t know, pretend all of… that never happened? Hell, it might drop out of my head one of these days anyway. Lots of shit does.” Steve’s says, sounding so fucking defeated that it sends a sharp pain through Eddie’s chest.

“Hey,” Eddie makes a face, gets in Steve’s space, “don’t be a jerk to yourself.”

He ducks his head in an attempt to meet Steve’s downturned gaze, which he reluctantly returns. He’s got these big, warm eyes, the color of dark honey—the kind that are hard to look away from, so Eddie rarely does. He’a got a staring problem, he knows, but… damn. Can you really blame a guy?

A nerve in Steve’s jaw jumps when he clenches his teeth together, and salt pools begin forming along the rim of those familiar eyes. When he speaks, it’s stiff. Barely above a whisper. “I’m embarrassed, alright?”

“You don’t gotta be embarrassed, man.” Without thought, Eddie’s hands go to Steve’s arms, fingers hovering around his elbows. Eddie tilts his head again to try and keep eye contact again but Steve seems determined to avoid it.

“Easy for you to say.” Steve huffs, and sits down on the edge of his bed, slipping out of Eddie’s hold, arms still crossed over his chest. “You didn’t totally humiliate yourself in front of your—friend.”

The word, one in which Eddie holds in a most sacred of views, sounds distinctly hollow when Steve says it.

“Steve, listen to me, just for a sec, alright?” Eddie gets down to the floor, one knee buried in the carpet while the others bent out in front of him. “This is my fault.” He confesses, voice full of remorse.

Finally, Steve looks at him. His brows twitch together as he makes a face. “Bullshit.”

“No, it’s true! I—I didn’t mean to, but I’m not exactly big on the whole impulse control thing, as you know, and, thinking back on things I probably… I probably let a few things slip.” Eddie explains, his rings clinking together lightly as he gestures with his hands.

Steve, however, doesn’t look any less confused. He blinks. “What?”

Eddie lets his head fall forward in a moment of defeat as he attempts to gather up his fleeting thoughts. It’s like chasing wet, feral cats up there!

Still, he picks himself back up. For Steve.

“What I’m trying to say is…” Eddie puts his hands on Steve’s knees. Feels the warmth under the soft, worn flannel. The hard muscle. Alive, whole. He tightens his grip. “Steve, I’ve been crazy about you since the first time I ever saw you. Don’t roll your eyes—I’m serious! You sat in front of me in math one year and you forgot your pencil. We were having a test that day, and you asked me if you could borrow one of mine, so I let you have the one I was using. You chewed up the end of it, squashed the eraser to all hell, but then when you gave it back to me, you smiled, thanked me and said, ‘I owe you one.’ It—okay, yeah, so it sounds, like, really small, and probably pretty pathetic, but… I was totally starstruck, man.”

At some point in his little spiel, Steve had uncrossed his arms. So Eddie takes the opportunity to clumsily take Steve’s hands, his insides feeling like a kicked hornets nest. Buzzing. He swallows. “I still am.”

Steve keeps his mouth shut, but there’s a knot in him that’s loosening, Eddie can tell. He’s just gotta keep tugging. He squeezes Steve’s fingers.

“The feeling was cranked up a few hundred clicks because of all the, y’know, near death experiences we went through together. But you get it now, right? You get how this is all my fault?”

“Eddie, you don’t have to—” Steve starts, hands stiffening in Eddie’s hold. Slipping away. But Eddie holds firm, decides to just fucking say it. If Steve could, Eddie could too.

“I’m in love with you too.” He blurts out, and now that he’s said it out loud, it’s like there’s a dam that gets busted inside of him; he can’t stop the rush of words that follows the confession. “That’s what you were seeing. That’s what you were noticing. I thought I was being slick, just keeping it friendly or whatever. Flirting, yeah, but I didn’t think you’d ever actually reciprocate. Because, honestly man, I’m not really used to people taking me all that seriously. ‘Zany, pot-head Eddie, can’t trust anything that comes out of his crooked mouth!’”

Eddie shakes his head, scoffing at his own blind spots, “But… you saw right through that shit—right through me. You didn’t make it up in your head, Steve—you felt it. You were right.”

Steve’s got a funny look on his face, but he nods. A lock of hair falls over his forehead, but he doesn’t remove his hands from Eddie’s to fix it. “You love me?”

That’s like asking if the sun would rise tomorrow morning. Of course. Of course.

Eddie pulls one of Steve’s hands and flattens it onto his chest, over the leather.

“Every time my heart beats, it's your name it calls out, man.” Eddie says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he sees the red creep up on the apples of Steve’s cheeks. “D’you feel it?”

Steve gives a breathless chuckle, hesitating for a split second before he nods, playing along.

Electricity hums under Eddie’s skin, the resulting static snaps in the air around them. Eddie presses Steve’s hand against the wall of his chest a little harder, so that he can feel the pounding a bit better. Then Eddie whispers in time with the rhythm of his lovesick heart, giving it a voice, “Ste-vie, Ste-vie, Ste-vie…”

He keeps chanting until Steve’s grinning, eyes glued to their joined hands. It’s a fleeting thing, though. Eddie watches as that hard-won smile drops and a pinched look takes its place. “Even now? Eddie, I’m not—I don’t think I’m the same person I was before.”

“Are you kidding me? Especially now. In sickness and in health, right?” Somewhere in his brain an alarm sounds, but he doesn’t pause long enough to acknowledge exactly why, lest he lose momentum, “look, Steve, even if you are a little different from the guy you were in high school, you’re still you.”

A beat passes. “What if I never get better?”

“Steve, you will, the doctors said—”

“But what if I don’t? Jesus, Eddie, what if I get worse?” Steve’s voice had gone progressively more hushed as he spoke, as if he were so afraid of its possibility that even voicing it felt risky. Made it real, even in that small way. It’s something Steve’s thought about, Eddie realizes. Agonized over, even.

“Then I’m the lucky son of a bitch that gets to take care of you.” Eddie says, sure as shit. Truthfully, he can’t think of anything else he’d rather do, even if Steve hadn’t done a completely insane thing like falling in love with Eddie. His love isn’t conditional. “S’long as you’ll let me.” He tacks on.

It’s like a wall crumbling. Brick by brick, Eddie watches Steve’s resolve collapse. The rim of his eyes shine with unshed tears, his brow relaxes and his chin twitches. “You sure you want that?”

He scoffs, eyes wide. “It’s all I want.” He answers, quickly. A reflex. Who wouldn’t want to be with Steve Harrington? Eddie thought he was lucky just to be in the same fucking orbit as the guy, but now…

Now, as he watches a smile slowly spreads across Steve’s face—fucking Adonis incarnate—it feels like he won the goddamn lottery.

“Okay.” Steve utters, so softly that for a second Eddie thinks he’d imagined it.

“Okay?” Eddie asks, trying his damndest to keep from imploding. He’s fucking vibrating in his skin.

Instead of answering Eddie, Steve decides to clarify himself by leaning forward and pressing his mouth against Eddie’s.

Fireworks go off inside of Eddie, every inch of him. All lit up. Feels like he’s shining just as good as any knight.

One of Steve’s hands snake their way behind Eddie’s neck, pulling him closer, while the other remains held over Eddie’s jackrabbiting heart. Their lips part, and their kiss deepens. Eddie tries to keep up.

They eventually end up on Steve’s narrow twin bed laying side by side, legs entangled, kissing until their mouths go dry. Eddie swipes a calloused thumb over Steve’s cheek, savoring the feeling of the barely there stubble, the heat from the blush that never seems to subside.

They don’t speak for the rest of the night. Not even a ‘goodnight’ after Steve crawls over Eddie to flick off his bedside lamp, tugging the comforter up around their shoulders as he settles back into the safe harbor of Eddie’s arms. They don’t need words. Not tonight, anyway. Tonight, all they need to do is to rest.

Whatever comes after, they’ll deal with it together.

—

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[listofwhyyouloveher]

Hiii

Can you do the gang with the reader who can sleep anywhere and everywhere as they pleased😴 (Sorry if my English is a bit broken😭🫶)

Summary: The Outsider x Sleepy!Reader

Warnings: none Author's Note: gonna try and get thru a lot of requests today, ive got like 15 in my box

You were always tired. Many times you fell asleep in random places, always leaving the gang in awe of how you could sleep so well in such obscure places. Your boyfriend decided that you two needed to spend some time together, so imagine his reaction when you fell asleep!

PONYBOY CURTIS

He invited you over to study, but it really was just catching up over textbooks. It was a little past 3 and Pony was starting to get hungry, so he told you to wait while he grabbed you both a slice of cake. It was a minute before he came back, two plates in hand but he stopped dead when he saw you. You were slumped over the table, head resting on your arm, fast asleep. He laughed and you woke up with a start. 

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you” he smiled at you, placing your cake next to you. You give him a hazy smile and gently nod.

“Sorry, what were we talking about?” You ask, yawning. He smiled and shook his head.

“Maybe we should just stop and go to bed” He led you to his room and piled blankets on top of you, letting you fall asleep in his arms.

JOHNNY CADE

 Johnny is also a victim of falling asleep in random places, but was never quiet at the same level as you. 

Today, he invited you to the lot for stargazing. You both sat in comfortable silence as you observed Tulsa’s night sky. Johnny turned to you, a smile on his face.

“Don't you think it's pretty?” And he immediately stopped. You were asleep, curled up tightly for warmth, the moon reflecting off your pretty skin. He sighed and smiled wider, wrapping an arm around you and scooting closer to sleep alongside you.

SODAPOP CURTIS

 Soda took you out to the local diner as your weekly date. He got up once to grab some milkshakes from the counter when the waiter engaged him in conversation. He tried to cut the conversation short and get back to you, but apparently he didn't do it fast enough. 

When he came back to your table you were asleep, your hair splayed out and your face down in your arms. He laughed and unbuttoned his flannel to put on top of you as a makeshift blanket. He sat there in his white work tee until you woke up.

STEVE RANDLE

Invited you to come to the DX for his shift and keep him company when a customer walked in. Steve left you alone to consult them and the urge to sleep took over. 

When he came back, you were nowhere to be seen. He looked for you frantically, and only until he checked the corner of the workspace did he find you.

You were passed out and curled up in the corner. He sighed out of relief and sat down next to you for a moment before laying his jacket on you as a blanket.

TWO-BIT MATHEWS 

You, him and his sister hung out often. You took her to dance classes, the park and other places. 

He expressed his interest in going to watch movies with his sister, so you went over to his house with a few DVDs in hand. 

The movie only barely started when he went up to get popcorn and returned to find you both asleep together. He laughed and sat down next to you, careful not to wake the both of you.

DARRY CURTIS

Finds your sleepiness a very good opportunity for someone to mess with you so he always warns you about it. He was in the kitchen with you making dinner when you dozed off next to the stove. 

Darry immediately woke you and started to lecture you about falling asleep near dangerous things but he turned away for one moment and you were asleep again!

He sighed, frustrated, before calming down and picking you up and carrying you to bed.

DALLAS WINSTON

He understands your sleepiness because he often gets really tired too. However, that doesn’t mean he doesnt tease you for it. He’d taken you to another one of Buck’s parties, but you were already tired from a long day, so when he sat you down to get another drink you found yourself drifting off. It didn’t matter how loud the music was or how loud the people were talking, you soon fell asleep.

Dallas came back with the drinks and gave you an unimpressed look. He sighed before placing down the drinks and picking you up. He quickly went up into his room and dumped you on the bed before going back down to the party.

[steddieas-shegoes]

black swan

for @steddiesportsau prompt 'dance'

rated t | 3331 words | no cw | tags: ballet dancer steve, ballet dancer eddie, high school, steve has bad parents, not canon compliant, getting together, sort of strangers to lovers

🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰

Steve stops dancing when he’s 12. His dad insists it’s time for him to “grow out of it” and “play a real sport.” It’s fine. It’s not like he’s the best in the class and on a fast track to an invitation to the New York Ballet or anything.

He starts swimming because he has the build for it and it’s easy.

He starts basketball to make his father shut up about being on a team.

The worst part is that he’s good at that too. Not great, not like ballet, but good.

He makes both teams in high school, even makes varsity basketball his sophomore year. He’s captain by junior year.

Sometimes, he stops by the studio he used to dance at, between classes, just to check in with the director and make sure everything’s going well. She always asks if he wants to come back. He always wants to say yes.

****

On his 18th birthday, his parents are gone, and he’s lonely. Nancy’s busy, and even if she weren’t, they aren’t anything except friends. Barely that.

Tommy and Carol have written him off now that they’re going away to college in the fall, and he wouldn’t want to have them over anyway. They’re on a different path than Steve, always have been. He’s just been so desperate for connection, he’s let everything slide.

Just before dinner, he drives to the dance studio. There’s not many classes happening on Tuesdays, but maybe someone will be there to let him in. He doesn’t see any cars in the parking lot, but there’s a light on inside.

The door is unlocked, and music is playing from the back room. It’s a much smaller room, designed for solos and duets only, not group routines. The music is not ballet music, but it could be a jazz or tap routine.

The man dancing is beautiful, in loose sweats and curly hair up in a bun that seems like it’s barely hanging on. He moves gracefully, but there’s an edge to it, something Steve always wished he had, even though he didn’t technically need it. His pointe shoes are torn, much more worn in than what’s recommended for anyone, especially men on pointe.

Steve’s amazed, the way he moves to a song that’s mostly heavy drums and guitar, makes it look like a classical piece as his arms and legs do everything the way Steve used to. He resists saying anything.

Then he catches sight of the man’s face.

It’s Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson dances?

“What the fuck.”

Eddie freezes, turns to him, falling to the flats of his feet. He looks caught out, as if he’s doing something wrong. He must be allowed to be here if the place is unlocked for him. Eddie might be a terrible student and definitely deals weed out of a lunchbox, but he’d never break into a dance studio just to use it.

He looks like he’s gonna run.

“Wait,” Steve says to stop him before he can. He steps closer. “How long have you danced?”

“Uh, five years?”

So they never took a class together. Steve was worried he’d somehow forgotten.

“Did you always take classes here?”

“I’ve never taken classes here.”

Now, Steve’s confused even more. He’s lived in Hawkins for at least 10 years. He remembers when he started living with his uncle. His first day at Hawkins Elementary set the tone for the rest of his time in school; Tommy and a few of his friends making his life miserable because of his much too large flannel shirt and greasy hair.

Steve had stayed quiet then, just as he did for most of middle and high school.

“How are you in here then?” He asks.

“I’ve had a key for two years. Ms. Laseaux made sure I had one when she had to cut her evening hours during the week,” Eddie explains. “I swear I’m allowed to be here. Don’t call the cops, please.”

“Dude, I’m not gonna call the cops. If you say you have permission, then you’re good,” Steve hates that Eddie still looks like he might run. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Is it okay if I watch?”

“Uh.”

Eddie’s music stops and the silence is almost as loud as the heavy music.

“It’s okay if not. You’re just beautiful,” Steve says honestly.

Eddie’s face flushes red and Steve has an immediate and overwhelming urge to see how far the blush goes. He shakes the thought from his head.

“Um. I guess I can start from the beginning?” Eddie offers.

“I’d love to see the whole routine,” Steve smiles.

Eddie rewinds the tape and starts it again, gets into position, and changes Steve’s life.

It’s even more beautiful from the start, a whole story unfolding before Steve’s eyes. Instead of the music being a distraction, it builds the emotion. Steve hasn’t seen anyone dance quite like Eddie.

Eddie seems a little nervous, but he never falters. He knows this routine well, front to back, probably back to front, too. It’s stage-ready and Steve wonders if he’s ever performed it outside of this room. He doesn’t think anyone else could possibly know he dances, at least not this well. He belongs on a stage.

He feels water on his cheek and he reaches up to wipe it away. He’s crying.

He remembers the time his mom cried at his first solo during a recital, how proud she was of him, and how proud he was of himself. He wonders if anyone has ever been that proud of Eddie.

“Steve?” Eddie asks.

The music’s stopped and Eddie’s breathing hard from fifth position. Steve’s tears are still falling.

Eddie’s hands cover his face, wiping away tears that just won’t stop.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s amazing; You’re amazing. Please tell me you perform somewhere,” Steve sniffs, smiles at him. “Did you get a senior solo last year?”

“No,” Eddie says quietly. “I can’t afford the fees for actual studio time and it’s required to perform at the recital. But I get to come here once a week and get it out of my system.”

Steve is about to offer to use all of his savings to pay for whatever Eddie needs. He has to get out of here, dance on bigger stages, be seen by people who can get him where he should be.

“The timing of the arabesque, Eddie, it’s beautiful. The leaps are textbook. The way you timed that kick with a cymbal crash. I mean, everything. You’re so technical, but emotional, and it’s like it takes no effort for you. You could easily get into a ballet school or a company,” Steve is talking and Eddie is still holding his face. He’s probably still crying.

“Thank you, but this is kinda it for me. I just love dancing,” Eddie takes his hands away and Steve instantly misses them. He knows he’s feeling a bit lonely– it’s his birthday, after all– but he liked how warm they were, how the blisters across his palm seemed to rub just right against Steve’s cheekbones. “You seem to know a lot.”

“I danced when I was a kid. Here.”

“Really?” Eddie seems genuinely shocked. “I thought you were, like, a stereotypical jock guy. No one’s ever mentioned you.”

Steve laughs, but he feels a pang in his chest. He knows why no one talks about him here. Most of the history of him being here was erased at his dad’s demand.

“Pretty much from the time I was potty trained to when I was 12. I had to quit,” he doesn’t feel like going into a deep dive of why he had to quit while he’s standing in the room he had to do it in. “I still come by to see Ms. Laseaux when I won’t interrupt classes. She was my instructor for six years of my life. She put so much into my lessons.”

“Were you good?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs again. He’s not as confident as he pretends to be most of the time, but he’s sure of one thing: he was a phenomenal dancer.

“I was her best student.”

Eddie nods like he was expecting that answer.

“She mentioned wishing she could’ve had me earlier. Said she would’ve done anything to pair me with her star.”

Steve wishes more than anything he could’ve danced with Eddie. They would have been unstoppable. His dad would’ve never allowed him to dance with another boy, but the thought still makes him warm.

“I’m sure she would’ve had us in New York or Boston or Europe the second she could,” Steve smiles fondly. “She tried to bribe my mom into going behind my dad’s back for nearly a year.”

“I’m guessing he’s not okay with his son dancing like a fairy?” Eddie’s lip curls up in disgust.

“Bingo.”

“Well, join the club. That’s why I didn’t start until I lived with my uncle, but he couldn’t afford to put me in real classes,” Eddie explains. He’s rolling his ankles one by one while he stands there, something that Steve knows is a nervous habit, one he had backstage before shows. “Ms. Laseaux was a bit sweet on my uncle when I first lived with him. He didn’t have much time for dating, but I think they would’ve fallen in love if it weren’t for me. She wanted to do what she could to help, even when it was obvious they weren’t gonna work out.”

Steve does remember one visit only a couple years after he quit where she talked about a nice man who fell into some unfortunate circumstances, and how she wished she could do more than help his nephew out.

“She’s always been amazing. I wish I brought my slippers, I could’ve at least stretched and tried to learn some of that,” Steve gestures towards Eddie. “Not that I’d do it any justice with how long I’ve been out of it.”

“If you were as good as she says, I think you’d catch on quick enough,” Eddie smirks. “I have an extra pair if you think you can fit?”

It’s a huge no usually. Wearing someone else’s broken in pointe shoes is just asking for bad luck and injury, especially if you don’t know the dancer well. As nice an offer as it is, Steve should say no.

“I could try,” he says instead.

Eddie’s beaming smile silences any doubt he had in his head that this would be a mistake. He rushes to his bag in the corner and pulls out a practically brand new set of shoes.

Steve is hesitant to take them when he offers.

“These look…shouldn’t you be trying to break these in for your own feet?” Steve doesn’t know why he’s wearing torn up shoes when he has these. They look nice, and he recognizes the brand when he turns them over in his head. They are nice. Some of the nicest shoes you can buy without getting into the thousands of dollars range.

Eddie shrugs. “I like these.”

“But these cost a fortune. How did you even get these?”

“I saved up for them. I’ll break them in when I can’t wear these at all anymore,” Eddie smiles, nudges his shoulder to make him put them on. “C’mon, you need to stretch.”

Steve listens, walks over to the corner to put the shoes on, stretch out his legs and back, groaning when he pops his shoulder. He’s been a little tense all week, worried that his parents would come home for his birthday and expect him to do some kind of business dinner.

This is a much better way to spend his birthday.

Eddie is…frolicking might actually be the best word for it. He’s not exactly dancing, but he’s not really walking either. Steve almost gets too caught up watching his movements to finish what he’s doing.

“Do you want me to show you this one or do you wanna show me something first?” Eddie asks. He sounds excited, maybe even more than Steve is.

It’s not like quitting dance meant Steve actually stopped dancing. He just only did it at home, and had to make sure he was alone, which has been increasingly more difficult over the high school years. His friends practically lived at his house, even when he didn’t want them to.

But he’s still out of practice, and probably not nearly as nimble as this dance would require. He’s not sure what he would even show Eddie. His last dance recital was six years ago, and he doubts the tape with his music is even here anymore.

“Um, you can show me some of yours. Maybe the drum part?” Steve’s voice shakes with sudden nerves. He hasn’t had eyes on him while he danced in a long time. He wasn’t built like this the last time he properly danced, either.

Eddie smirks. “The whole song is the drum part, but I know what you mean.”

Steve blushes. Eddie takes position in the center of the room, leaving enough space for Steve to stand next to him.

They look at each other in the mirror. Steve nods.

Eddie moves so fluidly, even when he’s going slower to show Steve. It’s like he’s a waterfall and Steve’s the river below, waiting to take what he’s giving to move it along in a beautiful and seamless way.

It hits Steve when he’s watching Eddie turn that if Eddie’s never taken a proper class, he must’ve choreographed this dance himself.

“Steve?” Eddie’s hand on his arm startles him from his thoughts. “Need me to do it again?”

“Sorry. Yes, please,” he doesn’t know why he can’t focus, but Eddie continues to show him three more times and he still doesn’t quite get the timing right. “Sorry, I think I’m just distracted.”

“Why don’t you show me a routine you’re familiar with?” Eddie asks.

“I’m not sure I remember any enough,” Steve tries to say, but Eddie shakes his head.

“You’re a dancer. You remember.”

He’s right. He may miss a few steps here and there, or get the timing just a bit off, but he can remember most of every routine he ever did on a stage. He does it without music, something that Ms. Laseaux always made him do before recitals to ensure he knew the timing in his head.

He doesn’t pay attention to Eddie’s reactions until he’s done.

He’s breathless, and not just from the dance. Eddie’s eyes are shining, and his lips are parted in a way that makes Steve want to slip his tongue between them and taste him. He’s a bit thrown by the thought, but only because he hasn’t had those kinds of thoughts in a long time. Not since Nancy broke up with him.

Eddie stands from the floor and walks over to him, still seemingly in shock over his dancing.

Steve’s ankles are sore, and he’s a bit mad he chose the hardest dance he ever did. His heart is trying to beat out of his chest. His legs are shaking.

Eddie cups his face, eyes searching his.

“You should have let her bribe your mom,” he says quietly. “You belong on the stage, too.”

Steve feels tears prick his eyes and it’s ridiculous to be crying for the second time in front of Eddie, but he’s a little overwhelmed.

“I miss it,” he chokes out. Eddie nods because he knows. Maybe not the same way Steve does, but he knows his own yearning, his own pain at being unable to perform the way his body is capable of. He might be the only other person in Hawkins who understands him. “I shouldn’t have let him stop me.”

“You were a kid, Steve,” Eddie’s voice breaks. “You didn’t have a choice.”

“I do now,” Steve sounds more sure than he thought he could with tears streaming down his face. “What can he do now that I’m 18 other than cut me off? He won’t. My mom wouldn’t let him and his business partners would think less of him.”

Eddie’s brows furrow. He looks away for a moment, his lips moving around words Steve can’t hear. When he looks back at Steve, he looks heartbroken.

“Is today your birthday?”

Steve nods. He’s not sure why Eddie looks so upset. This is turning into one of the best birthdays he’s ever had and he’s starting to feel relief that he finally feels brave enough to stand up to his dad.

“And you came here?” Somehow, he sounds even more upset.

“I didn’t really want to go anywhere else,” Steve tilts his head as he answers. “This is always where I’ve felt the least lonely.”

“Dance with me.”

They danced already. A little. But Steve thinks he means something different now.

“What do you know?” Steve asks, a flutter in his chest at the thought of touching Eddie, lifting Eddie, feeling Eddie against him.

“Swan Lake?” Eddie asks.

“You know Swan Lake? How?” Steve doesn’t mean to sound rude, but he’s a little shocked someone who’s never even taken a ballet class would know the most famous pas de deux.

“I have eyes and an uncle who buys me tapes of famous ballets from some guy in Chicago. They’re shit quality, but I watch them so often, I’ve taught myself.”

“You’re amazing.”

Eddie laughs. “Let’s see if I can pull it off first.”

Eddie rushes over to the corner, searching through the tapes on the shelf. Most of the popular ballets are there, and Steve knows every piece from Swan Lake is probably on the top. All the seniors tend to use those for their solos.

He finds what he’s looking for and slots the tape in the stereo. Steve knows there’s a slow start to the music, and it allows plenty of time for them to get into position.

It’s easy falling into this with Eddie. They don’t even discuss who will take which part, they just fall into what’s natural. Steve hasn’t spent as much time en pointe as Eddie clearly has, so he takes the male lead, happy just to have his hands gently guiding through the dance. He’s not meant to be the star of the show, and he wouldn’t wanna be as long as Eddie’s the one front and center.

When they finish, it’s easy to close the distance between them, lips brushing together in the gentlest kiss Steve’s ever experienced. He immediately wants more, but he waits.

He may have been leading the dance, but he doesn’t want to lead with this.

Eddie cups his cheek, still catching his breath.

“Happy birthday, Steve.”

It throws Steve off. He almost forgot it was his birthday. He got so caught up in just being around Eddie, dancing, feeling this freedom he only ever felt at the studio.

He doesn’t remember the last time he actually celebrated his birthday. It had to be before high school, even though he remembers Tommy insisting on throwing him a party at his own house with his own food and beer for his 16th. That was less for his birthday and more for Tommy to show off that he knew Steve Harrington.

“You’re okay,” Eddie says.

Not asking. Telling.

Steve believes him.

The next time they kiss is in Eddie’s van, not even ten minutes later, after Eddie asks Steve where he wants to go for a birthday dinner, his treat.

“Benny’s?” Steve asks.

“You sure? Just the diner?”

Steve nods. “My parents are gonna drag me to some five star restaurant next week where the only decent food will be the dessert they don’t bring enough of. I want greasy shitty food and a milkshake.”

Eddie kisses him a third time and puts the van in reverse.

They’re both sweaty from dancing, and neither of them should technically be out this late on a school night, but Steve’s not alone.

It’s his birthday, he got to dance, and he’s not alone.

[loveinhawkins]

picturing Dustin watching at the trailer park, right after Eddie says, “Hey, Steve? Make him pay.”

And for some reason Dustin’s reminded of ‘84, of his conversation with Steve on the railroad tracks, it’s like before it’s gonna storm, you know? You can’t see it, but you can feel it, like this, uh... electricity, you know?—although he’s grown enough to suspect that Steve might not know everything in that regard.

And it’s not electricity he senses, not exactly, but it’s definitely a storm of some kind: something fragile. Something—someone—that’s very scared.

Dustin’s running before he’s even registered his decision. “Steve!”

Steve turns around, and he already looks like he’s about to ask a question—something practical, like whether Dustin’s forgotten something—and Dustin feels a twist of regret, that that’s where Steve’s mind goes; yeah, they’re all ready for battle, so it makes sense, but…

Feeling suddenly very young, Dustin barrels into Steve and hugs him.

He hears Steve’s surprised inhale, his hesitancy, before he returns the hug in full force.

For a little while, it’s like the world narrows down to only this. No ash in the air, no nightmarish red in the sky. Just the two of them.

Dustin’s about to pull away when he feels Steve’s chin dig into the top of his head. Hears him sniff, very quietly, like he’s trying to hide it; and that makes Dustin think of the tunnels, or afterwards, really, when Steve held onto him with shaking hands, kept saying, “We’re okay, we’re okay.”

So he just keeps hugging back.

Steve’s the one to let go; he’s smiling, but he looks a little sad too, forehead creased with worry.

“I need a ride tomorrow,” Dustin says.

Steve huffs. “Oh, yeah? Where to?”

Dustin taps his nose obnoxiously. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

It’s bullshit, of course; Dustin doesn’t need a ride anywhere.

Steve rolls his eyes, but some tightness in his jaw finally eases. “God, you’re such a dick.”

“Bright and early, Steve!” Dustin adds smugly. “Five am!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, waving him off, and for a moment it’s like they’re just in the school parking lot. He looks as if he’s about to say something else, then thinks better of it—glances back to where Robin and Nancy are waiting. He pulls Dustin in with one arm, a brief but tight hold. Nods, as if to himself. “Go on, scram.”

Dustin runs back to the trailer with a stitch in his side but a smile on his face. He knows it’s naive to think he can fix everything, but in this moment at least some part of the universe has been righted, even while in The Upside Down.

Eddie’s standing right where he left him, like he’s been frozen the whole time.

“Hey,” he says quietly. “is he, uh… is he okay?”

Dustin’s reminded that of course, Steve isn’t the only one who’s scared.

“Yeah, he will be,” he says, which he thinks is a more accurate answer than a simple yes or no.

It’s funny how life works, he muses while gathering supplies for the trailer defences. There’s no way he’d have thought even a week ago that Eddie would be sincerely asking him about Steve’s well-being. Whenever he happened to bring Steve up at Hellfire, Eddie would imitate him in a comedic falsetto, “Oh, Steve this, Steve that.”

For a minute, Eddie remains rooted to the spot, still staring in the direction of where Steve went��like he’d watched helplessly as Steve walked into the eye of a storm or something.

“You just gonna stand there and gawk?” Dustin says.

Eddie snorts. “So rude, Henderson.”

And it’s not like Dustin really knows, not when Steve and Eddie are still barely dancing around it themselves. Still, he can pick up on some things.

Like when they’ve finished setting up everything, waiting for the go-ahead for Eddie to start playing his guitar—to pass the time, they recount the high points of the day, keep it light. It’s a practice Eddie used to implement after campaigns.

And look, Dustin’s damn good at picking up on patterns. Like, he loves Steve, but he’s pretty sure the reality of him driving the hotwired RV doesn’t quite match up to how Eddie’s currently waxing lyrical about it.

He’s making it sound like it was something outta James Bond, Dustin thinks, when he’s sure Steve drove right into several trash cans.

Suddenly he knows exactly what he should do.

“Steve this, Steve that,” he sing-songs.

Eddie flushes; Dustin cackles.

“Fuck off,” Eddie says, but he’s smiling as Dustin keeps laughing, like he knows there’s nothing mean-spirited in it. He keeps going, Steve this, Steve that, talking right over Dustin’s teasing—somehow finding even more moments where Steve truly shines.

And Dustin doesn’t know everything, not even close, but at the very least, he knows that this feels right.

[honeybunnyale]

I'm Not In Love l B.B.

w.c.: 4k

t.w.: Dark Series, dub-con verging on non-con smut (Somnophilia, frottage), Slight Steve x Reader, Possessive Bucky, Obsessive Bucky, Stalker Bucky >:), Red Room/Hydra reader, unhealthy power dynamics, angst, I want both super soldiers pls :) 

a/n: Please read all warnings for all of my works before reading. 18+ only! I’m basing off of the titles from songs. This one’s I’m Not In Love by 10cc. ♥

Summary: Bucky is roaming New York. He watches and gets jealous. (Set after first part, Recognized)

New York

May, 9 2014

Your underwear is missing. Your window frame had also loosened. Somehow, you didn’t feel as anxious about it as any normal person should have. It brought you an odd sense of satisfaction. 

You were the first person he visited.

You leave leftovers in the fridge, some cash on the coffee table. Your Tupperware had a little less and your coffee table was cleaned, your two twenties gone. You’d scan the room as you entered, most of the time getting out of your apartment to give him time to explore your space. You’d admire a nearby park, sitting by the fountain as the breeze cooled your face. 

Judging by the way he left your laundry basket open, he may have explored for too long. 

He was like a ghost. A timid ghost that was too sheepish to make himself known. No scares, no malicious intentions, just a mediocre haunting. 

You haven’t told anyone about it yet, not even Steve. You’re sure he wouldn’t tell you if ‘Buck’ was visiting him every other day either. Given, he would have had the same amount of boxers in his drawers. 

He may not even notice. 

…

Brooklyn

July 4, 2014

Captain America liked nightclubs. The lively atmosphere and the beer, at the very least. Sam had gotten him a cake and with lack of coordination, Natasha had ordered one made too. It was a good thing that super soldiers could pack away a lot. Excess sugar could never hurt him. 

Sam was attempting to bribe the bar for free drinks and Nat was at the bakery nearby picking up a sheet cake and some candles. You were left alone with him, picking at the sprinkles from Sam’s cake and keeping Steve company. 

You sit next to him in a booth, sipping on your Tequila Sunrise. He was glancing at you every other moment, his ring finger tapping against the glass beer pint nervously. 

Your eyes glided over the crowd dancing, Daft Punk playing as drinks spilled and bodies rolled over each other. A dark figure walks through the crowd, moving through the synchrony of movement and parting it to reach the other end of the dancefloor.

Broad shoulders, large chest enveloped by leather, and shoulder length brown hair. Your breath hitches as you swear you saw glaring blues direct their stare in your direction. 

Steve notices you tense, throat bobbing as you take a large gulp out of your glass. Your eyes flicker between the table and your hands, He feels you stiffen beside him. 

He assumes you were uncomfortable with the loud noise and the awkward company he was. His shoulders square, he clears his throat as he directs a tight lipped smile at you. 

You raise your glass lightly, mimicking his gesture. You make yourself smaller into the cushion of the booth. You feel as if a wolf was staring at you, stalking and waiting. Your eyes widen as the figure appears again, much clearer now as disco lights illuminate his face. You swallow thickly as his eyes shift to Steve, now placing his hand on top of yours in worry.

Jame’s jaw tenses and his eyes narrow. As if he wanted to rip his hands off of you. 

You inhale sharply and grab Steve’s hand without warning. 

“Let’s dance, Steven.” 

It was uncomfortable, admittedly. He didn’t move from his spot in the booth as you stood, his cheeks turning a bright red as your hand gripped onto his forearm to pull him out. You almost forget about his super strength. He was as solid as a marble statue, but he didn’t make an effort to pull his hand away. He was gentle despite his clear refusal. 

A closer look, that was all you wanted. Maybe you were seeing things. You hoped so. You begged Steve with your eyes, smiling softly. 

You're almost surprised it worked. 

Steve’s hand grips onto yours firmly as you lead him into the crowd. His shoulders tense as bodies bump into him. He was the tallest one around, making him stand out. Your fingers tickle up his forearms, starting with a soft sway of your hips he could mimic. 

Your head sways side to side, arms moving to loosen him as Steve holds your hands tightly. Your eyes wander to your sides, searching to find him in the crowd, staring you down as you feel he is at that moment. 

Steve loosens, his hips start to find the beat as the song shifts into something a tad slower, the bass hitting a little deeper. People start to pair up, his fingers twitch as you pull him in closer, hands grazing over the muscles of his arms to meet his shoulders, then neck. 

He swallows thickly, he says your name, almost in a question. You couldn’t hear it from the loud music. 

“Relax,” you say softly, knowing his sensitive hearing could pick it up.

He was focused on you, the smell of your perfume, the way your hoop earrings glimmer from the lights. Your breasts press together as your wrists rest against the back of his neck. Your top was exposing, thin straps, and flowy and breezy fabric. 

His hands move to your hips, you bring yourself closer to him, pelvis meeting his. Your eyes scan behind Steve’s broad shoulders, eyes narrowing as you press your chest against his, bodies closer than ever. He wasn’t behind Steve. You sigh. 

You turn, facing away from him, your hips moving back and forth against his front. You guide him to the rhythm, he melts into the touch. 

He catches your eye again, moving from one side of the room to the other, at the edges of the crowd. He was a blur. You glance behind you, tilting your head up to catch Steve staring, lips parted in awe. 

He grinds against the swell of your ass, you feel him, thick and hard. His cock pulsing as it chubs up against the plush of your ass. His grip tightens and he has half a mind to start apologizing but you encourage it, pressing further against him and placing your hand on top of his. 

He groans lightly, feeling his stomach tighten and his heart quicken. You turn your head from side to side, in time with the slow tempo, pressing your back against his chest as you work him up further. 

He’s enjoying himself, you were too. You find him quickly, he was sitting at the bar now, nursing a beer as he stares with half lidded eyes at your display. You move erotically, staring back, licking your teeth as Steve leans down to your neck, your hand moving up to cup the back of his head. 

His metal fist clenches, covered in a leather glove. There’s your ghost. Not so shy and sheepish. He was staring daggers at you, at Steve. Finally, you see him. He keeps his head down as he takes his jacket roughly off the back of his seat and makes his exit through the crowded bar. 

…

He blows out his candles at a brooklyn pizza parlor, completely vacant at one in the morning. One cake had the number nine and the other six. It was very intimate. It was nice. 

You took a taxi home, looking out of the window. Maybe he was following closely behind. You think for a moment that he wouldn’t bother. He was upset, you might have gone too far. 

You think you were more desperate for a reaction from him than anything else. It was so unlike you. Cap couldn't even meet your eye the rest of the night. But you guess the departing hug meant it would be quickly forgotten. 

Dropping your keys and jacket onto the kitchen table, you start to take your shoes off. Your heart drops as you turn to lock your door and feel that something is off. 

You turn quickly to find the window open, just by a smidge. The curtains flail with the wind. You could smell the coming rain. 

Your breath stutters as you swallow thickly. It was nothing. 

Soft music hummed from your bedroom travelling all the way to your shower. You lathered your body in soap, rinsing it off gently. You relax. 

Then you hear a thunk, as if something had fallen to your carpeted floor outside the bathroom. You pause. 

You towel dry softly, reaching into the sink cabinet and blindly pawing at the corner to find your hidden pistol. 

You hum a tune as you dress. A song from the nightclub that would repeat every thirty minutes. Hanging your towel to dry and stepping up to turn the knob of the door, you inhale sharply. 

You step out with a gun in hand, you scan the room with your weapon raised. You pause. Your lips gloss had fallen off the vanity. 

You exhale. Placing the gun against your bedside table in irritation and stuffing your makeup in its bag. 

After a cup of tea, you start to fall asleep, feeling as if you were exhausted. Your eyes flutter closed, so unlike you. You didn't sleep well at all, it was a miracle your eyes closed for more than a minute at a time.

Wait. 

You wake up with the feel of his gaze from the corner of the room. You could hear his breathing. Soft and consistent. He shifts in his seat from the vanity table. You open your eyes slowly, groggy from whatever he had given you. 

Your eyes were blurry, you could barely move. His legs spread further, the small table lamp illuminating half of his face and the hand holding your gun against the table. You would scoff if you could, as if you could walk up and take it. 

You groan, willing your body to move from its side to lay on your back, your sheets shift as you attempt to sit up. You fail, slumping against the pillows in an awkward position. 

Your ghost just watches, face curious. You arch a brow as he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. He inhales slowly and deeply, eyes never leaving yours, hands squeezing as they interlace together. 

He groans. The whole room smelled of you, he closed his eyes for a moment to take it in. He just couldn’t get you out of his damn head. He has dreams, sometimes nightmares with you in them. His hand cupping yours as you hold a revolver, pressing your finger against the trigger with his own as you aimed it at a faceless woman. He’d hold you afterward, hands intertwined as his lips peppered kisses over your forehead, leading down your cheek, your jaw, making your skin tingle as he licked a path with his tongue down your throat. 

He’d stuff your cunt with his cock, holding you from behind, your legs spreading as you moan into him, your head burying itself into the crook of his neck. 

He remembers these moments in his sleep, as if encouraging him to search for something. Maybe search for you. He knows who he is, on paper. James Buchanan Barnes. He knows who you are too. All that he’s done to you, all you’ve done to him.

Then there’s Steven Grant Rogers. He knows that he was important to him. But, he doesn’t think he would understand him as well as you did. He was stuck. 

Bucky, James, The Winter Soldier, Comrade, Soldat. He rubs his temple as he stands, pacing near the end of your bed. Your eyes track him. You fight sleep, your eyes starting to close. What did he want? Every time you blinked it was getting harder and harder to open them up again. 

He was wearing a jacket, a grey shirt, dark washed jeans, and thick boots. They didn’t fit him quite well, who knows where he could have gotten them from. A donation bin, a safehouse nearby. You hoped he had a warm place to stay at night.

You make a noise, a mumble tumbling from your lips, sounding like a moan. You close your eyes, they stay closed for ten seconds before lazily opening again. He’s made his way across the bedroom, sitting next to you. He cups your cheek, your eyes flutter. His hands were cold.  

You blink and you can't open your eyes anymore. 

…

Colmar, France

1986

He sits on the edge of the bed and watches. Your lungs burn with every breath. Tears drag down your cheeks, gathering near the back of your neck. Monitors beep, your fingers twitch from the sedative. 

He scared you to no end. It was one of the last training sessions of the week. The Red Room had come up with this idea. They could train widows, such as yourself, to become more efficient with the help of the deadliest assassin alive. 

The Winter Soldier was not kind to you. They expected you to die within the month. But you were always different, you weren’t trained from birth. They wanted to stretch the limits of molding the perfect weapon. 

Experiments, mithridatism, training, graduation. You survived it all as a relatively unskilled early adult. You were supposed to be proof that building a broader network could work as efficiently as raising it. 

His hand lays over yours gently, the same one that had struck you so hard you thought you had gone blind for a second. You glare at him. He lifts it, minding the wires. He holds your hand softly, knowing that the doctors would come to check on you in about ten minutes. 

He was offering you comfort. 

The softness peturbs you. A sorry couldn't heal broken bones, or ripped flesh. You exhale softly, it burns. It wasn’t his fault. You feel his pulse, fingers tightening over his wrist. 

Your glare softens. You close your eyes and rest against the stiff pillow. It wasn’t his fault.

…

4:00 A.M. 

New York

July 5, 2014 

He lifts your hand and presses his lips to your knuckles as you sleep. The back of your hands were soft, he rubs his cheek against them. Your breath was even, your chest rising and falling in your unconscious state.

He adjusts you in a comfortable position, fluffing your pillows as he lifts your head to his chest lightly. He trails his nose over your hairline as he cups the back of your head. He groans. Both in satisfaction and annoyance. 

His body was out of sorts. He couldn’t control himself very well. It was like it was trying to stabilize itself. He gets hard at the mere thought of you now. 

He tugs his boots off neatly, placing them together beside your bed frame. Your body melded into his as he laid you against him. His heart pounds rapidly, his throat was threatening to close as your weight was supported against him. 

He was going to ask you questions. That was the plan he promised himself he would keep. He thinks he upped the dosage too much. Oh well. Now all he wanted was to hold you, his hands run back and forth over your back, your head buried in his neck. 

He can feel your breath on his throat.

Your legs were spread over his hips. His cock was aching, he felt his boxers wet with his pre cum. He licks his lips. Your ass was peeking from your sleep shorts. His hand smooths over the plump flesh, you’ve gained some weight, healthy weight. He liked it. 

His hand tightens, your skin was like bread dough, spreading over his fingers. His hips twitch upward as he instinctively presses yours down, the seam of your shorts press against the zipper of his jeans. He moans as he feels your mound grind against his bulge. 

Sweat collects along his brow, he licks his lips as he hesitates. It wouldn’t hurt anyone, he’ll be quick. 

He pushes his jeans down, leaving him in his boxers. His cock was pulsing in his grip, his jerks becoming uncontrolled and sporadic. He pushes your shorts to the side, his tip purple with pressure, he leans his head back as he presses his cockhead against the seam of your panty covered pussy. 

He imagines sinking in, his cock too big for him to get balls deep at first. He’d work you open, holding you up by your hips, allowing you to take him inch by inch until your cunt meets his pelvis. 

You make a noise from the back of your throat as he presses against your clit. Heavy, hot, and wet puffs meet his neck as he continues to grind against you. His hips thrust upward, his metal hand holding your hip in place as you start to moan and shake against him too. 

He was so close, he felt his stomach tighten, his cock pulse in need. Fuck. He lifts the fabric of your underwear and slides his cock in between your lips, he consistently bumps up onto your clit as he bear hugs your upper torso and thrusts upwards. 

You shake softly against him, a garbled moan coming from your throat as he feels your opening pulse and gush. He loses himself. His head was buried in your hair, taking a deep breath as he came inside of your panties, his cum making a mess of your cunt and mound. 

He could feel your heart beat like a hummingbird’s, your breaths coming out in puffs. And yet your eyes are still closed, your breath calms as he smooths his palm over your back soothingly. 

He cleans you with a soft towel and warm water. He positions you to lay comfortably in your sleep and puts his boots back on. 

He leaves quickly after. 

…

New York

November 27, 2014

You take your gloves off, placing them on the coffee table. Thanksgiving was pleasant. Natasha had managed to get you into Avengers tower. Tony Stark had made a show of a holiday. It was an event full of loners without families. It made you chuckle. 

Steve dropped you off on his motorcycle. It seemed as if he was waiting for you to invite him up to your apartment, or at least he was gathering the courage to tell you something by the way he leaned against his bike with his hands in his pockets. 

You gave him a hug and shooed him away quickly when you had noted the window slightly ajar in your apartment. You never open your windows. The smog, you’d argue.

You sigh as you take off your shoes. You stride to the window and close it shut aggressively.  

“Have you eaten yet?” 

You get no response, you tense. If it wasn’t him, it could be someone else. And you had a lot of enemies. You make your way to the kitchen calmly and pull a handle from the knife block Sam had gifted you a month ago, seeing as you didn’t have any proper cooking utensils.  

You turn and are met with a solid wall of chest, you swipe before you could fully process the situation but a hand stops you. Metal. You dropped your knife as he turned your wrist roughly. A shot of electricity shoots up your arm. 

His eyes are apologetic as he steps back, and watches as you clutch your hand in slight pain. 

Habit. 

“Jesus…” you mutter, your thumb rubbing along your wrist soothingly. You glare at him with a glance as you cross over to the living room. You turn on your lamp, it illuminates the small area in a shade of orange. It was cheap, you didn’t mind it. 

He takes in the small apartment you call home, finally able to see it in proper lighting. He’s been reading up on the files. Your report said you originated from California. Your close relatives have long gone. You barely had any personal items in the small living room. As if you were ready to leave at a moment's notice. 

He steps towards you, you step back. You look at him inquisitively. He hasn't frequented your apartment since the time he drugged you to sleep. It was a nice sleep, you had to give it to him. Really nice. 

“I’m leaving.”

You say nothing, just giving him a slow nod. He should have left weeks ago. The government was looking for him, Hydra must be too. You at least had connections to the Avengers, they couldn’t outright kill you on a random tuesday anymore. 

“Come with me,” he says confidently, his blue eyes piercing. 

You stare at him. He steps closer, his hands fidget nervously at your silence. Clearly he thought it would go smoothly.

He swallows thickly and his hand cups your cheek, looking into your eyes sincerely. 

“Out of the U.-”

“He’s looking for you, Bucky,” you interrupt harshly. 

Something ferocious flashes in his eyes as you call him Bucky. It didn’t sound exactly right. It was familiar. It was foreign to your tongue though. He wasn’t Bucky to you. Although sometimes you wish he was. This person in front of you, it felt as if he didn’t belong with you. 

Steve talks about this Bucky all of the time. The dancer, the flirt, the soldier with morals. He was pure and bright. He was happy. Happier. 

“I don’t even know who that is. Who the hell is Bucky? I don’t even remember who Steve Rogers is.” 

You shake your head, he grabs your chin. 

“I remember you.”

Your face falls. You wished he didn’t. Sometimes you wish you could forget him. Turns out you were both haunting each other. You clear your throat and look away, your face and voice neutral as you speak.

“Steve will help you remember. He’s your friend.” 

He sighs. His hand drops down to his side. He takes that as a no to his offer. He looks to you desperately, he’s lost. He needed someone familiar. 

You bite your lip and sigh in defeat. You move towards him, as if he were a feral dog, slow and soft. 

Your gentle hand on his chest was warm, you stood in front of him, looking him over, your eyes rounded in concern. 

“You eating good?” you mutter. You knew the answer. His shirts have filled in. Even if you weren’t willing to go on the run with him now, you still cared. 

He snorts. You look up in surprise as he smiles down at you. Hydra was definitely not a five star restaurant. Your lips betray you and tilt upwards at his sarcastic gaze. Of course he was eating well. 

Both of your hands cup his face now, exploring this new version of him. He hasn’t shaved in a while, his hair was up in a bun. He looked well enough. His hand meets your waist and pulls you closer. He leans down. 

“I missed you.” 

You were gone for two years. Two years he’s had to endure alone. He rests his forehead against yours. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back. He smiles and shakes his head. You shouldn’t be sorry. You escaped. Now he did too. You were both free. He kisses your cheek and straightens up to pull you closer into a hug. 

You stay in place for a while, your hand wound tightly onto the back of his shirt, his pressing your head against his chest. Clinging to each other. 

You tilt your head up after a while. 

“I know a place you could go.” 

…

He opens the pack you had forced upon him. It included a pistol, a knife, some rope. Packs of old granola bars and plenty of cash.

The front pocket had something solid. He opens it up to find a burner phone. His hand turns the small brick phone as passengers board the train. 

The contact list included several names. Sam, Natasha, Barton, Steve. He makes it a point in his head to never call those numbers. 

He sees your name at the bottom, newly added. He smiles. He wonders how long you've been planning on giving him the bag.

Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom. I louve et yiessss. Let me know what ya'll think! Sending love.

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

-Alejandra 💋 🐇

Taglist 🫶:

@vxllys

[choerypetal]

A promise / Billy Hargrove

summary: From the moment Billy arrived at Hawkins, he couldn't help but be drawn to you. What started as a simple interest soon spiraled into a full-blown fixation. Eventually, he worked up the courage to ask you out on a date, but with all the rumors and suspicions swirling around him, the question remains: is it really worth the risk?

ps: english isn't my first language so i apologize for any smol errors. also this a billy x reader!fem enjoy!

Billy’s gaze lingered as you strode out of the parking lot, books pressed tightly against your chest. The rhythmic click of your heels echoed against the concrete, mingling with the crisp whispers of an autumn breeze. Strands of your hair danced with the wind, and your lips, painted in a precise cherry-red hue, seemed to command attention. In that moment, Billy truly saw you—for him, you were no longer just a passing figure but a captivating new distraction.

In fact, there were times when, as soon as the bell rang, Billy would slip out early just for a fleeting glimpse of you in the crowd. The way your figure seemed to stand out among the other students, the effortless charm of your smile as you bid your friends goodbye—it all set his stomach into an uneasy churn. He knew it was only a matter of time before Max noticed her brother’s sudden change in behavior. Yet, deep down, a part of him didn’t care. Maybe he even wanted to be caught.

Every graduate received an invitation to a party, and Tina had taken it upon herself to throw a Halloween Bash. It surprised you, at first, that everyone—including the new kid—was invited. Then again, it didn’t. He was, after all, the talk of the town. It wasn’t long before you finally caught his name: Billy. Billy Hargrove.

You arrived at Tina’s house that evening, a few hours before the party officially began. She had insisted on helping you get ready, carefully setting your hair in rollers before cooling the curls. Offering her lipstick with a grin, she declared it the perfect shade to complement your look. As the finishing touch, she dusted a bit of powdered blush across your cheeks. When the rollers were removed, the volume from the mousse delivered its promise, your curls falling in perfect waves.

Tina gasped dramatically, her eyes lighting up. “You are definitely the bombshell of the night, Y/N.” Pulling you into a tight embrace, she let out a playful chuckle before pressing a kiss to your cheek, leaving behind an unmistakable smudge of her lipstick.

“Tina!” you protested, your lips forming a pout as you tried to assess the damage. “My makeup! Now I’ll have to rush to the bathroom to fix it.”

Tina rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “Oh, admit it—you wish it was Billy. Don’t lie, sweetheart.” Your brows knit together in confusion at her teasing remark. “What are you talking about? Please, Tina,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “He doesn’t exactly hide it, you know. I’ve noticed him watching me after class. His sister filled in the blanks for me.”

Tina let out a knowing chuckle, her fingers reaching out to playfully pinch your lipstick-tinted cheek. “Well, then,” she said, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “I hope you’re ready for tonight’s party—because he sure will be.”

“More than ever.” 

The party unfolded just as expected. Students from all different classes filtered in, the buzz of laughter and music filling the air. You exchanged greetings with a few familiar faces, including Nancy and Steve, who seemed genuinely delighted to see you. But amidst the crowd, your attention kept drifting to one person in particular—Billy.

Billy had chosen a costume that was simple yet unmistakably bold, one that made him stand out effortlessly—a deliberate move, knowing you would be there. He basked in the attention, especially during his last show-off, drawing gazes from classmates and, more importantly, from you. Just as the crowd crowned him the new king of the party, your eyes met his, moments before Steve’s glare joined the mix.

“There’s a new king, Harrington!” someone shouted, the taunt hanging in the air. Steve’s protective stance shifted subtly, his arm brushing closer to yours, a motion that did not go unnoticed by Billy. His jaw tightened, his blood simmering at the sight. You could feel Billy’s intense gaze boring into you, his bottom lip catching between his teeth as he closed the distance, his shadow falling over you like a storm cloud.

“Chill, Hargrove,” Steve said, his tone edged with concern as he caught the subtle gulp you tried to hide. Your fingers toyed nervously with the ends of your hair, your cheeks burning beneath the dramatic blush Tina had so generously applied. You prayed it masked the heat of your reaction. Billy smirked, his voice low and biting as his eyes flicked to Steve. “Don’t worry, Harrington,” he drawled. “I won’t touch the pretty bird. Right?” His words dripped with challenge as his attention snapped back to you, daring a response you weren’t ready to give.

The pretty bird—a nickname he’d just bestowed upon you, dripping with both charm and dominance. “Right,” you murmured, echoing his words in the same low, uncertain tone. You could’ve sworn you saw the corners of his lips twitch into a smug smirk, as if he’d won some unspoken game.

A single, satisfied nod was all he gave before turning and venturing off into the party, leaving a trail of intrigue in his wake. From that night forward, you weren’t just another face in the crowd. To Billy Hargrove, you were his pretty prey.

A few weeks had passed since the party when Billy finally had the courage to speak to you. By then, the two of you had developed an unexpectedly close friendship, something that continued to baffle both Steve and Nancy. Despite his unrelenting attitude toward them—and even Max—there was something different about the way he acted around you. His sharp edges seemed to soften; his piercing gaze grew warmer, and his voice carried a calmness that seemed out of character.

The Billy everyone else knew was almost unrecognizable when he was with you. It was as if you’d uncovered a side of him that no one else had seen. But then came the night of the date, a night that would change everything.

Max was out of the house, giving Billy some rare peace. Music blasted from his room as he paced, running through a mental checklist to make sure everything was perfect. All he could think about was you—how you’d said yes without a moment’s hesitation, your smile igniting a spark he hadn’t felt in years. The rush of excitement coursed through him as he glanced at the clock. Then came the knock at his bedroom door, sharp and abrupt. “Billy!” The voice on the other side wasn’t Max’s. It carried a weight that sent a chill down his spine, breaking through the haze of his thoughts.

“Yeah I am a little bit busy here Susan!” 

“Open the door!” his father urged. “Right now!”

A sigh escaped from Billy’s lips as he took a final puff from his cigarette, his eyes briefly flicking to the clock. There was hesitation in the air before he finally opened the door. Standing before him were his father and Susan, their faces etched with obvious concern. He could feel the tension in his chest, the weight of the moment pressing down. He couldn’t afford to be late—not tonight.

“What’s wrong?” Billy asked, his voice strained as he tried his best to hide the irritation bubbling beneath the surface. This last-minute checkup was the last thing he needed right now, especially with you waiting.

“What don’t you tell us?” his father shot back, matching Billy's tone.

Billy’s jaw clenched, his patience thinning. “Because I don’t know,” he snapped, his hands instinctively balling into fists at his sides. He couldn’t keep his frustration hidden, not with this constant interference. But in the back of his mind, all he could focus on was the ticking clock and the promise of the night ahead.

“We can’t find Maxine,” Susan said, her voice tinged with growing worry. The poor woman only wanted answers about her daughter. “And her window’s open,” Billy’s father added, his tone sharp.

“Where is she?” Billy’s father demanded, his impatience creeping through.

Billy glanced to the side, his mind racing for an answer. He hadn’t seen Maxine since school let out. He assumed she was in her room. "I don’t know," he muttered, uncertainty in his voice.

“You don’t know?” His father scoffed, disbelief lacing his words. “How could you not know where your sister is?”

“Look, I’m sure she went to… I don’t know, the arcade or something?” Billy muttered, trying to brush off the situation as he walked over to grab his coat. His mind, however, was elsewhere—on you. He couldn’t shake the thought of you waiting for him, and the frustration of being dragged into this mess was beginning to boil over. Why was it always him who had to be the one punished for things he didn’t even know about?

“You were supposed to watch her,” his father’s voice cut through the air, stern and accusing, as he watched Billy put on his coat.

Billy paused, exhaling sharply. “I know, Dad, I was. It’s just... you guys were three hours late, and... well, I have a date tonight,” he muttered, his voice tight with irritation. He turned to face his father, the frustration finally boiling over. “I’m sorry, okay?”

The look on his father’s face remained cold, his silence only intensifying the tension in the room. He stood there, inconvenienced, before finally speaking. “I’ve been looking after her all week. If she wants to run off, that’s her problem. She’s not my sister—!”

Billy’s words were cut off as his back hit the wall, his father’s fist striking his cheek with a force that left him stunned. “What did we talk about?” his father growled, his grip tightening on Billy’s collar, pulling him forward. “Respect. And responsibility.”

Billy’s pulse raced, his face burning from the impact and the anger building in his chest. His father’s voice was low but unforgiving. “That’s right. Now apologize to Susan.”

Billy fought the urge to cry, the sting of the slap still fresh against his skin, but the sound of his father's footsteps fading away gave him some space to breathe. He knew, deep down, no matter what happened, his mind was already set. Your house was the next place he would go. He drove faster than he meant to, forgetting just how close your place was. Hours had passed since his original plans, and while he was certain you’d probably given up on the date, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to see you.

Inside your room, you sighed as you began removing your makeup. Steve’s words echoed in your mind—Billy was nothing but trouble. You were starting to see the truth in his warning.

But then, a soft rustle from the window made you turn. You froze, eyes wide, as the window creaked open. A quiet groan reached your ears, followed by the unmistakable figure of Billy struggling to climb through, despite the risk of being caught by your parents.

“Billy!” You whispered urgently, your heart pounding in your chest. Panic and disbelief filled your voice. You rushed over to help him down, your hands instinctively reaching for him. When he finally landed on his feet, you couldn’t help but notice the bloodshot look in his eyes—a raw, exhausted intensity that seemed so out of place. It was clear he’d lost control somewhere along the way, a little too much for him to handle.

"Are you okay?" You whispered, the concern slipping through despite everything you had begun to doubt about him.

“Hey… what’s wrong?” Your fingers gently cupped his face, your touch tender as you tried to get a better look at him. Billy had always dreamed of this moment—the way your hand felt on his cheek, the softness in your eyes. He closed his eyes slowly, leaning into your touch as if it was the only thing grounding him in that moment.

“Did something happen? For our date to…” You paused, hesitant to place the blame entirely on him. “...be canceled? I wanted to call to make sure you were on your way… but I was suspicious you were ditching me for someone else.”

Ditching? Billy’s eyes snapped open, his expression caught between surprise and offense. “Never, sweetheart,” he said quickly, his voice rougher than usual, hoarse from something deeper. “It’s just…” He trailed off, his words strained, tired. Then you noticed something else—on the edge of his jaw, a bruise barely hidden by the shadow of his stubble.

“Did… did you get hurt?” Your concern washed over him, a mix of worry and care that made him feel worse, like a knot tightening in his chest. The thought of letting you down, of your date being postponed, only made it more difficult to face you.

Billy shook his head, his eyes briefly avoiding yours, a flicker of shame flashing across his features. “No… just my dad,” he muttered, trying to brush it off. It wasn’t annoyance that made him look away, but something far deeper—guilt. A part of him wanted to tell you, but the words stuck in his throat, heavy with the weight of his own turmoil.

A thought crept into your mind, an unsettling one you couldn’t shake. “Did your…?” The question hung in the air, but Billy’s silence was all the answer you needed. The weight of it made something inside you stir, a wave of emotion that urged you to pull him close, to hold him and let him release whatever he’d been bottling up. You wanted to be the one to let him break down, to let him know he didn’t have to keep it all in anymore.

Billy hesitated, his body tense with the internal battle, but the sigh he let out spoke volumes—words he couldn’t say, but emotions that bled through his every movement. As your arms wrapped around his waist, your head resting against his chest, Billy froze. His breath hitched for a moment, and your heart ached at the vulnerability he was showing.

He shifted, unsure at first, but then his arms pulled you tighter into his embrace, the weight of his grief sinking into you. His body rocked you gently, a rhythm of unspoken sorrow, until the quiet sobs began to break through. Billy Hargrove, the walls he built so high, was finally letting go. And for the first time, he felt safe enough to cry.

“I love you, sweetheart,” he murmured through his tears, his voice barely audible but full of raw sincerity. “Promise me tomorrow… we’ll have a date together.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you lifted your head to meet his gaze, your fingers reaching up to wipe away a tear that slipped down his cheek. “I love you too, Billy Hargrove,” you whispered, your voice soft but certain. “I promise.”

[motherofpirates]

The movie theatre had been dead, it appeared not many people wanted to see David Bowie in tights cavort with muppets.

“I think I’m scarred for life!” Steve exclaimed as they left the cinema. “Bowie’s bulge was staring at me every time he was on the screen!”

Robin was breathless from laughing so much. “Do I detect a queer awakening, Stevie?” She cackled as they got to the street.

“Help me out here, man, please tell, Robin, that you couldn’t help staring at Bowie’s codpiece too!” Steve used his hands to invite Eddie to join the conversation.

“I mean, yeah, who couldn’t notice that thing, it was stole every scene!” Agreed Eddie, “But I’m allowed to say that ‘cause I’m into dudes, Steve.”

“Exactly! Than- What?” Spluttered Steve. Robin looked between Eddie and Steve as she popped some left-over popcorn from her bucket into her mouth. She couldn’t look away; Steve’s face was priceless.

“I like men, Stevie.” Said Eddie quietly looking at his combat boots, Robin thought he looked like a puppy waiting to be kicked.

“Oh…” Steve stepped closer to Eddie who looked like he was ready to bolt, but Steve caught his arm with his hand and tugged him into a huge hug before he could do so. “It means a lot to me that you can tell me that, Eds.” He reached over to grab Robin popcorn and all. They hugged it out until Eddie was ready to pull away. He smiled gently at Steve.

“See, told you Steve would take it well. You needn’t have spent all that time worrying.” Robin said as she rubbed Eddie’s arm in a comforting manner.

“You were worried about telling me, dude, why?”

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship, man, it means a lot to me. Dudes can get weird around gay guys, and I didn’t want that to happen to us.” Steve put his arm around Eddie’s shoulders as the three of them began to walk in the direction of where Steve’s beemer was parked.

“Your friendship means a lot to me too Eds.”

Robin dumped the remains of her popcorn in a trash can and squeezed between the two young men linking arms with them smiling widely.

“You remind me of the babe,” She sung.

“What babe?” Responded Steve laughing.

“The babe with the power!” Answered Eddie. Robin and Eddie sung Dance Magic all the way back to the car. They didn’t notice Steve no longer sung along with them.

Once they got the car unlocked and were strapped in, when they were about to go Steve turned to look at Robin who had called shotgun and then at Eddie in the back seat.

“Are we going or what, Dingus?” Asked Robin impatiently.

“Are you ok, Steve? You don’t look well.” Queried Eddie with concern.

Steve took a couple of deep calming breaths as Eddie and Robin exchanged worried glances.

“I’m really grateful that you two have trusted me enough to let me know that you’re queer. So, it’s only fair that I tell you that I think I’m bi.” He swallowed loudly before shyly glancing sideways at the other two.

“I knew Bowie’s bulge could turn anyone!” burst out Robin.

“It didn’t turn you though did it!” Retorted Eddie as he leant forward in an attempt to give Steve an awkward hug around the driving seat.

“Welcome to the club, Stevie.” Beamed Robin.

“You’re one of us now.” Agreed Eddie as he smiled kindly at Steve.

“Thanks guys.” Steve grinned back at them.

____________________________________

Thanks for reading, if you enjoyed this snippet please head on over to AO3, you can read my whole fic there. It's entitled La Vie En Rose

[munsonsmixtapes]

Ok so, Eddie being possessive but wanting to mask it until he can't no more and when he gets to the house he ravishes you but the only thing that keeps him going is if you tell him all the things you like about him and how he makes you feel like the only 1

Um, yes, absolutely!

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) Eddie is a little possessive, jealousy

The bar was hazy as Eddie entered it. You were over at the bar, sipping on a margarita that you had just ordered. He made a beeline for you, weaving his way through all of the dancing bodies to get to you. A huge smile broke out on his face as he got closer, but that quickly dropped once he was you were talking to someone. And not just anyone. Steve. Fucking Steve.

If Eddie was going to say anything about Steve, it was that he had game. He could get anyone he wanted with a snap of a finger and Eddie was becoming afraid that you would have left with him and he couldn't have even blamed you. He wouldn't have. He was a very pretty man and shit, if Steve had hit on him, he wouldn't have hesitated to take the invitation.

Eddie's hand rested lightly on your back as he tried to swallow his jealousy like a large pill that wouldn't go down properly. You turned to him and gave him a warm smile before turning back to Steve who was in the middle of telling you a story.

Eddie grumbled something to himself as he sat to the left of you, deciding to order a beer if this was what the night was going to be like.

Despite your trying to keep your situationship with Eddie a secret, Steve was very much aware of what was going on, even going as far as flirting with you a little bit to get Eddie to admit his feelings for you that he was very well aware of his friend having.

He watched Eddie as he slowly reached up and fixed the strap of your tank top that had fallen down, his warm, honey eyes looking into yours as he put on a smile.

"Oh, thanks, Stevie," you smiled and Eddie swore that he was going to throw up right then and there. What did Steve have that Eddie didn't? Okay, maybe he had the flirting down, but being awkward was part of Eddie's charm.

"No problem," Steve winked then stood up from his stool, fixing his jean jacket as he did so. "I'll see you later, hon," he gave your shoulder a squeeze then turned to Eddie, giving him a nod. "Munson."

"Munson," Eddie mocked under his breath as soon as Steve was out of earshot. He then chugged the rest of his beer, knowing that he was going to need it in order to flirt with you. You turned to him, letting your strap fall once again, turning your shoulder to him as if to tease him.

He hated what you did to him. That you were able to make him feel so possessive, something that he never liked to be because you were never really his. Just a little fling that was bound to end sooner or later. But maybe if he told you just how he felt, you would admit that you wanted more too.

He leaned over, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder before fixing the strap, his lips making their way up your jaw, pressing a final kiss at the corner of your mouth. He then pulled away, and got off his stool, offering you his hand.

"Oh, are you finally going to be a gentleman?" You asked and he just chuckled, pulling you to his chest as he leaned down, his lips right by your ear.

"Oh sweetheart," he chuckled. "We both know I'm not a gentleman. I thought we settled that last night."

"I think I need a refresher," you replied and felt your cheeks get hot at his words and he took you by the hand, leading you to his van. He peeled out of his parking lot and sped down the street, desperate to have his way with you once again, never getting tired of it.

He pulled up to the trailer and put it in park before getting out and rounding the hood to help you out, but you were already inside, the door slamming behind you. He raced inside after you, grabbing hold of your wrist and turned you around to face him.

Without a word, he pressed his lips to yours taking no time to slip his tongue into your mouth, swirling it around yours as he pushed you back towards his room.

This wasn't unlike every other time you got tangled up in the sheets, but you couldn't help but notice that was something different about it in some way. He was more rough with you, grabbing onto you like you were going to disappear in that moment.

He pushed you down onto his bed, seeing you splayed out all for him, making his already hardened cock even harder. He wanted you to his and his alone. The thought of you even looking in Steve's direction made him see red.

Eddie leaned down, pressing a brief kiss to your lips before diving into your neck, peppering the spot in kisses.

"Can't believe you were with him," he said, not able to look you in the eyes as he admitted it. “You’re mine, you know that?”

"And I can't believe you were jealous," you responded and he was quick to pull back to look at you, not liking how easy you were able to clock that fact. “And yes, of course I know that. If looks could kill, Steve would have been dead." Eddie's cheeks went pink at that. "And there's no need to be upset, pretty boy," you pat his cheek lightly.

"And why's that?" He leaned closer, knowing exactly why, but wanting to hear you say it. You could that teasing look on his face, his eyelashes batting in an innocent manner.

"You know why,” you quirked any eyebrow.

"Tell me, doll.”

"I like you."

"Yeah? And what do you like about me? For every reason, I’ll give you a kiss.” That sounded very tempting.

“I like your hair,” you told him and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips just like he promised. “It’s so curly and I love how it’s always messy.” He pressed two more kisses to your lips then pulled away, a goofy grin making its away upon his lips.

“What else?” He asked, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You’re sweet. Probably the sweetest man I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah?” Another kiss. “Sweeter than Harrington?”

“You don’t have to be jealous, Eddie,” you said again, batting your lashes.

“I don’t? But-”

“I’m yours, Munson. All yours.” You leaned up and slowly pulled off your tank top and Eddie’s eyes widened as he realized that you hadn’t been wearing a bra underneath. “Go ahead,” you took his hand and pulled it up to your breast. “Have your way with me.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he responded, pressing his lips to yours again, this time rougher, letting his tongue slip into your mouth, letting it swirl around yours before taking off his own shirt.

“Yeah? And what are you going to do about it? Gonna finally call me yours?”

“You bet your ass I am,” replied as his hands moved down to unbutton your pants. He pulled them down in one swift motion and gasped as he realized that he wasn’t wearing any underwear either.

“Look at you. Wet as fuck and it’s all for me.” He then reached for a condom out of his drawer that was attached to his bedside table and removed his jeans and boxers before rolling the condom onto his cock, taking no time to pound it into you.

You moaned so loudly that Eddie had to cover your mouth so you wouldn’t wake up Wayne. You looked up at him, listening to still very much in your eyes.

“Gotta be quiet for me, doll. Can you be quiet?” You nodded and Eddie removed his hand moving it back down to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin as he continued to fuck into you.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you said, lowering your voice. “You don’t have to be so possessive, you know. I mean, I like it. A lot. But you don’t have to be jealous of Steve or anyone else. I want you.”

In that moment, everything stopped. The motions, your low moans. Eddie looked down at you, a smile kicking up at the corners.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, fuck yeah,” he nodded, pounding into you once more, watching your body move with his, eating up the way he could make you come undone.

You were already seeing stars and he could tell, loving how quick he could always get you there, but now he could do it any time he wanted since you now belonged to each other, attached to each other in more ways than one.

“Holy shit,” a scream ripped through you and you were no longer able to hold it in. Your back arched as you gripped the sheets below, followed by another scream. Once you came down from your orgasm, Eddie helped you lay back down on the mattress.

He then pulled out and disposed of the condom before collapsing onto the bed beside you. He pulled you to his chest and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You and me, doll?” He asked.

“Yeah, Eddie,” you nodded. “You and me.”

[bleedingoptimism]

It’s a little after eleven when Eddie finally manages to get Tarja to bed. It’s hard for her without her plushie. And really, Eddie is very thankful having a hyper-fixation with her toy seems to be the only ‘consequence’ of having divorced parents Tarja seems to have right now. He always worries if having two homes and constantly moving between them is good for her or not. Especially with Tommy being Tarja’s other dad, but against all odds, he’s good to her. So their kid is doing just fine. She’s happy. And if she’s happy, Eddie is happy.

He’s getting ready to open a beer and relax when there’s a knock on the door. He smiles, assuming is Steve bringing Toothless over and almost knocks his beer to the floor when he opens the door.

Steve looks… well he looks amazing, dressed to the nines. Must’ve been date night. But his eyes are red and puffy, his face covered in dark blotches, and his lips are swollen like he’s been biting them too much.

He’s hugging Toothless to his chest and he smiles at Eddie when he sees him, but he looks so sad it breaks his heart.

Eddie throws the beer behind him, sure it will land on the couch and cradles Steve’s face between his hands, “What did that asshole do?

Steve leans into his touch and shuts his eyes for a moment before sighing and stepping away from him, walking inside and sitting on the couch still holding Toothless like a lifeline. 

“Nothing, he was just-” Steve shakes his head and chuckles darkly, “He’s just so mean,” 

Eddie drops to his knees in front of him and dips his head to look Steve in the eye just like he did that day in the park.

“Break up with him,” he says.

“I can’t.”

“Tommy doesn't deserve you, Steve. You are worth so much more than what that asshole makes you feel. You deserve better. More. Everything,” Eddie pleads, placing his hands on Steve’s knees and squeezing, “If it’s because of Tarja, we’ll figure something out, ok? Lots of people keep in contact with their parent’s significant other after they break up” He rushes, the speech he didn't have quite prepared last week coming out of him in a single breath, “We are friends, right? So you can still visit and see her. Visit me. You don’t have to stop being a part of our lives.” 

Steve is staring at him right now like Eddie just gifted him the moon and he’s so beautiful it’s kind of hard for Eddie to keep eye contact, but he squeezes Steve’s knees again to ground himself and does. Steve needs to know he’s very serious about this. About him.

Eyes shining, Steve takes a deep breath and nods slowly, a tear falling down his cheek that Eddie follows with his eyes and watches until it hides under Steve’s v-neck shirt.

“Hey, even I didn’t put up with Tommy's shit for Tarja’s sake and I birthed her,” he jokes awkwardly, trying to make him laugh and feels like doing a little victory dance when Steve snorts cutely,

“Okay,” he hiccups.

“Yeah?” Eddie smiles back at him, relieved.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “Fuck Tommy.” And drops back on the couch, looking exhausted, “Can I stay here tonight?” he asks in a whisper, like he’s afraid Eddie will say no. As if.

“Yeah, of course,” Is what he answers, and has half a mind to invite him into his bed but knows it’s a terrible idea. So he lends Steve his favorite flannel pajamas and sets blankets and a pillow on the couch and they say their goodnights.

And if he does a little dance when he closes the door to his room, no one is there to see.

In the morning, Steve stays for breakfast. And attempts to kill Eddie by making his heart explode, cooking it himself from scratch with Tarja’s help, who is so happy she won’t stop running around the kitchen making Toothless fly and sing about ‘happy family breakfast time’.

It’s actually hard to tell if she’s happier to have her plushie back or that Steve is there. Eddie, on the other hand, knows exactly what he’s happiest about. Death by tenderness. Is that a thing? He amuses himself thinking about a couple csi’s with sunglasses saying it, 

“He died because he witnessed something too cute,”

“Ah yes, death by fondness. I’ve seen it before.”

After, Eddie walks him to the door and Steve smiles sweetly at him, and holds his hand, squeezing it once before letting go, “Well, see you. I guess,” he says bashfully and there’s a moment there, a second where time stops and Eddie thinks he should kiss him. Wants to kiss him, needs to kiss him.

But he doesn’t. Because Steve is still dating Tommy, and just because he said he was going to break up with him doesn’t mean he wants to start something new with Eddie.

Eddie himself called him his friend for the first time last night for christ sake. ‘Fucking chill’ he thinks to himself.

🧸

And then a week goes by without hearing a word from Steve. But Eddie doesn't hold it against him.

At first, he figures he needs time to think but then he starts to wonder if he really is going to break up with Tommy. Four days in, he gets paranoid about it. Maybe Steve got brainwashed into thinking Eddie is bad for him. Maybe Tommy told him Eddie was putting ideas in his head, that he shouldn’t talk to him anymore… With him telling Steve to break up with his boyfriend and all... 

He’s well aware of how manipulative Tommy can be and has seen the way he belittles Steve to keep him around, so he knows it’ll be hard for Steve to actually go through with it.

And he can’t exactly show up at Tommy’s and steal Steve away, no matter how appealing the idea might be. The only thing he can do is just think of Steve, wish him well, and send him strength to do what he needs to do. At the end of the day, it needs to be his decision. His choice.

As Tommy’s week with Tarja approaches he starts getting more and more anxious, wondering if it’ll be Steve or Tommy who picks her up.

When the day finally arrives, and the doorbell rings, Tarja runs to open the door and Eddie peeks his head through the hallway.

“Daddy!” Tarja screams.

“Hey, Tata! You ready?” Tommy says and Eddie steps into the hall to greet him too.

“Not yet!” Tarja chuckles and Tommy smiles at her,

“Okay, go get ready. I’ll wait here,”

Eddie walks to the door and leans on the doorframe, “Hey,”

“Hi. Long time no see,” Tommy says and then adds, “You look great,”

“You don’t,” Eddie answers, because it’s true. He looks like shit. Greasy hair, bags under his eyes, chapped lips, wrinkles on his clothes, “What happened?”

“Steve broke up with me.” 

Eddie’s eyes go wide and he smiles, he doesn’t even try to hide it, “He did?”

“Don’t smile, fucker,” Tommy says but there’s no heat behind it. He knows he deserves it.

“Sorry,” Eddie says, not sorry at all.

“Stop,” Tommy whines because Eddie’s smile is actually getting bigger,

“Sorry,” he repeats and then clears his throat, “Did he tell you why?”

“Because I’m a horrible person,” Tommy groans.

“Hey, the first step is to ad-”

“To admit it, yeah, yeah. I know” Tommy interrupts him, groaning again.

Eddie sighs, and punches Tommy’s shoulder lightly, “Look, Tommy, I’m just going to say this because, well… you are pathetic. You need to do better.” And then he points to his back, to where Tarja’s disappeared to get her stuff, “She’s going to grow up and realize you are an awful person and she’s not going to want you in her life. And I’m not going to dissuade her from it, because I already don’t want you to be in mine, you know that, right?”

Tommy looks at him seriously and then nods once, fast and hard. Like he gets it. Like he agrees and is determined to change. And Eddie hopes for Tarja’s sake he is. But knows, deep in his heart, that either way, she’s going to be fine.

“Also, just a heads up. I’m in love with Steve and I’m going to ask him out,” he adds in a rush when he hears Tarja running up behind him.

“You are shitting me,” Tommy whispers, shocked and clenching his teeth.

Eddie laughs, “Nope,” he says, closing his lips loudly around the P.

“Eddie,” Tommy warns him like he’s waiting for Eddie to say he's joking.

“What? I hear he’s single,” Eddie smirks.

“You motherfuc- Hey Tata!” Gathering Tarja in his arms, Tommy drops the subject but he glares at Eddie as he kisses Tarja’s cheek goodbye and murmurs ‘unbelievable’ as he’s leaving. Eddie closes the door and starts laughing at the look on Tommy’s face.

He needs to call Steve.

He tries a couple of times but he doesn’t pick up and he starts worrying Steve might not actually want to talk to him, and then there’s a knock on the door but Eddie, too preoccupied with his anxiety, opens without looking, thinking Tarja forgot something.

When he doesn't hear her, Eddie looks up from his ‘ignored calls’ screen to see nonother than Steve standing there, looking nervous and like a fucking dream with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. A fucking bouquet of flowers. For him. For Eddie. All different shades of red, because he knows is his favorite color.

Eddie just blinks at him a couple of times and Steve flushes even more and drops the hand holding up the flowers, scratches the back of his neck nervously, “This was stupid, the flowers were fucking stupid. They are stupid. I’m stupid, right?”

A laugh bubbles out of Eddie and he grabs him by the scruff of his shirt and pulls him inside. He closes the door once they are both in and slams Steve against it, crushing their lips together. Steve circles his arms around Eddie and holds him close, instantly returning the kiss with fervor. 

They kiss as if it were fate. They kiss until it's hard to breathe and Eddie pulls away only to kiss him again, and again, and again.

“Not stupid,” he murmurs between kisses and feels Steve’s smile against his lips.

Eventually, Eddie takes a step back and lets Steve into his home properly, “Hi,” he says cheesily.

“Hi,” Steve says back grinning, then he lifts up the bouquet again, which is now completely ruined by him still holding it strongly while they made out like crazy, and his smile drops,

“Shit,” he pouts cutely, god Eddie wants to eat him. He laughs and takes the flowers anyway, putting them in an empty glass bottle, because he doesn’t own a flower vase, because he’s a normal human being. ‘Who the fuck owns a flower vase?’

“Come here,” he says, holding out both hands for Steve to take and follow him.

Steve takes his hands but doesn't move, instead swings them from side to side, “Wait, let's talk,”

Fuck, yeah. They should. That’s a good idea. Fuck. Damn, Steven Whatever-The-Fuck-Is-His-Middle-Name Harrington and his sensible and very logical choice…

Eddie huffs exaggeratedly making Steve chuckle and redirects them to the couch, where they sit still holding hands, “Alas,” he says dramatically, “You are right, we should talk. I actually wanted to ask you out properly, not debauch you the second you walked through the door. Sorry about that” he lies, not sorry at all, again.

Steve blushes and smiles, drawing little circles with his thumbs on Eddie’s hands, “Yeah me too. I wanna do this right. Ask you out. Go on dates. I think we should take this slow,”

Eddie makes a face and groans at that. He doesn't want to take it slow. He wants Steve to move in right now or something. Steve rolls his eyes amused at his interruption and keeps going,

“I came here to ask you out the right way because I want you to know I’m committed. But we should think about how this will affect Tarja… and Tommy too. We should go out a few times, spend some time alone, and I want you to meet my friends and my parents and I want to meet your friends and your uncle too and just do this properly and-”

Eddie interrupts him with a kiss, he can’t take it anymore, he’s been dying to kiss Steve for months now and he’s so sweet and thoughtful it makes Eddie insane, makes him feel like he needs to ruin him, but in a nice way, like with devotion and love.

Steve lets go of his hands to wrap his arms around Eddie’s waist and hoists him until he’s straddling Steve. Eddie leans his elbows on Steve’s shoulders, and buries his hands in his hair, pulling and messing with it.

“Okay but have you considered having hard, hot, wet sex, and then maybe we do what you said?” He asks panting against Steve’s lips and actually feeling how that punches the air out of him.

He hugs Eddie closer to his chest and whines, “Yeah okay, we can do it your way,” and gets up, lifting Eddie with him as if he were weightless. Eddie squawks and laughs all the way to his room.

🧸

They spend the week together, talking, eating, drinking, laughing and fucking. Except it’s more than that because when Eddie is inside Steve, with his tongue, his fingers, or his strap, it feels like more. It feels like love. Like fate.

Steve, still determined to take things slow, doesn’t stay there all the time, going back to Robin’s where he moved back to after breaking up with Tommy. He actually brings her over one day and the three of them spend the afternoon together. Eddie decides they are going to be best friends immediately because Robin is hilarious and merciless. When Steve gets back the next day he kisses Eddie so good and hard his knees almost give out on him and tells him he has Robin’s seal of approval. Something he knows Tommy never got.

When the week passes Eddie says goodbye theatrically as if they were cross-star lovers in a bad soap opera and Steve chuckles and calls him ridiculous but kisses him so passionately that Eddie drags him right back inside and they say goodbye again a few hours later.

They had decided to wait until Eddie talked to Tarja about her feelings over Tommy’s and Steve’s breakup and whether she still wanted Steve around or not before having him over again.

But when Tarja gets back home she’s gloomy and silent. She hugs Eddie in greeting when she arrives and then spends the rest of the day lying face down on the floor and occasionally sighing loudly, obviously trying to make Eddie ask her what’s wrong.

And really, Eddie shouldn't find it as funny as he does, but he thinks about calling Wayne and telling him he gets it now when Wayne used to tell him he had too much personality.

Eventually, he lies on the floor next to her and asks. Tarja looks at him with big sad eyes and says, “I haven't seen Steve in a million years! And Daddy said he is not his boyfriend anymore! So I’ll never see him again and I miss him”

Eddie coos at her, “I’m sorry you miss him little dragon, but you can totally see him again! Would you like me to call him? Since he’s my friend too?” Already trying to strategize on how to tell her they are more than friends.

Tarja lights up and jumps off the floor and onto Eddie, punching the breath out of him, “Yes! Yes! Call Steve! Steve smiles more when he’s with you than he did with daddy anyway. Why don’t you boyfriend him instead?”

Well… that was easy.

He chuckles and shakes his head, “That’s a great idea sweety, go grab my phone,”

Tarja runs and grabs Eddie’s phone off the table and hands it to him, he doesn’t bother getting off the floor so she kneels beside him listening attentively as he dials Steve’s number. 

“Hi, handsome, you talked with Tarja already?” Steve greets him after it rings twice.

“Yeah about that, turns out Tarja talked to me, actually,” he chuckles, “Hi, by the way”

“Hi,” Steve repeats lovingly and laughs, “What do you mean?”

“She had this awesome idea!” he says winking at her and she covers her mouth with her tiny hands to hide her giggles, “That, since you are not with Tommy anymore, you should be my boyfriend instead,” he continues, voice going soft and chuckles when he hears Steve's breathless ‘oh’ on the other side of the line, “Come over?”

“Of course, gimme an hour? I'm with a client” Steve hums and Eddie whispers he’ll give him anything he asks for and hangs up.

An hour later Tarja is still lying on the floor, only now it’s with papers and crayons spread all around her when the doorbell rings. She looks up at Eddie excitedly and he nods at her, “Go on then”

Tarja runs to the door and opens it wide to reveal Steve standing there as beautiful as ever, giving Eddie a deja vu of the first time he saw him.

“Papa Steve!” Tarja yells and jumps up to hug him.

Steve gasps and falls to his knees with her in his arms and looks up at Eddie with shocked wet eyes.

‘So much for taking it slow,’ Eddie thinks with a smirk.

Fin.

☝️first part

☕🥐💕?

[lovestuckyhatemarvel]

An au where Steve and Eddie are openly together in Steve’s senior year. And people at this point knew Steve was kind of needy since they’d all heard his ‘I missed you’ to Nancy Wheeler after being away from her for like 5 minutes (Steve always pouts and points out that it was way longer than 5 minutes but no one really listens except for Eddie, who mostly just grins at him) but everyone is still surprised by how intense it gets with Eddie.

They walk down the halls with their hands wound together or in each other’s pockets or pulling the other along by a belt loop. Steve starts wearing metal band shirts cut into crop tops. Eddie wears cozy sweaters in the fall and winter when he’s not performing.

Steve gets almost stupid defensive of Eddie and since Eddie is Eddie, that means he’s always defensive of Eddie. Eddie meanwhile has taken to annoying homophobes by including long, drawn out descriptions of Steve’s beauty in his cafeteria speeches that make more than a couple jocks blush, especially as Steve just stares adoringly up at Eddie. The thing that draws the most eyes is when they sit on each others laps. More than one person has caught them making out under the bleachers and in the back of a car (or van) in the parking lot. Rumor has it, despite winning prom king, Steve missed prom because him and Eddie were going at it in…honestly no one can agree on where it was but people definitely saw them arrive at the school together only for them to disappear from the dance floor.

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter eleven ⭐︎ Yeah, I know it seems surprising when there’s lipstick still on the glass

Warnings: 18+ minors don't interact! smut, oral (male receiving), mentions of the upside down, jealousy, mentions of unrequited feelings

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: Your jealousy gets the best of you, and you show Steve a side he hasn't seen before.

Word count: 9.2k

Author's note: I know you're sick of me tagging you but shoutout to you for always helping ♡ @hellfire--cult

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

“It has to be perfect!” Lucas says from the passenger seat of your car, clapping his hands together as he glances at you with an excited smile on his face. 

“It will be, you got all her favorite snacks, that alone will make her happy,” you chuckle as you keep your eyes on the road. 

“You think?” Lucas asks, sounding nervous. 

“I know it,” you assure him, nodding at him, “besides, why are you so nervous? You’ve been together for how long? Over a year?” 

“Well, she broke up with me for a while, remember?” He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t count in my opinion, she went through a rough patch and you were always there for her, you were still… kind of together… in your hearts. She was just… hiding her true feelings and needed to be alone, she still loved you, it was a different kind of break up.” 

He nods at your words, smiling to himself as he looks down, “yeah,” he whispers before he turns back to you, curiosity flashing in his eyes. 

“Have you ever loved someone? I-I mean like, like I love Max?” 

Your eyes soften behind your sunglasses. 

The love between them is so pure, so young, yet so very real.

You get lost in your thoughts for a moment, his question repeating itself in your mind. You think about yourself at fifteen, at sixteen, at seventeen and eighteen. You are nineteen now, and the answer to his question is still the same, it will always be the same. 

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know?” He asks but not with judgment in his voice, only with pure curiosity. 

You shake your head, glancing at him before you pull up into the parking lot at Family Video, next to Steve’s BMW. 

Your chest flutters at the sight of his car – the car that was in your driveway all night.

The thing between you and Steve is still new, still fragile but… constant. 

After you gave in and stopped the radio silence that was driving you crazy, you started seeing each other frequently – five days out of the week. You were going behind everyone’s backs, sneaking around while you kept pretending to not like each other in front of your friends. You were still Blondie and Lego Head in front of them, but behind closed doors you were both someone else. 

You are not what you wish you could be, but that doesn’t matter when Steve is inches deep inside of you and you feel his lips on your skin and his hands on your body, you get to pretend while you’re in moments of bliss. And when it’s over, you get to pretend that the marks on your skin are there because he wishes you were his, even when it’s nothing but a lie. 

Steve can’t keep his hands off you, he can’t stop touching you, he can’t stop kissing you, he can’t stop fucking you – something keeps pulling him back to you, something makes you irresistible to him. You know it’s only that, the sex, the lust, the secrets, nothing more. He doesn’t feel the way you do, not in the slightest, but in some way, he feels something, and that gives you peace… for now. 

You keep pushing your feelings aside, not wanting to give in, not wanting them to get in the way. 

“Yeah,” you mumble, leaning back in your seat after parking your car, “I’m not good with feelings.”

“Huh,” he nods, furrowing his eyebrows, “that’s funny, reminds me of a certain someone.”

You tilt your head at him as you take your sunglasses off and put them in your cup holder. 

“Yeah? Who’s that?” 

“Well, she’s got red hair, wears pigtails a lot and can be super mean.” 

A chuckle falls from your lips. 

“You’re basically the older version of Max,” he grins, “you’re both stubborn and act all cold even though you’re the biggest softies at heart.” 

You roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head at him. 

“All you need is your basketball star boyfriend,” he smirks, wiggling his eyebrows at you as his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Family Video. 

You scoff at him, waving him off as you hide your flustered face by turning away from him and getting out of the car. 

“Steve is single, you know?” He says as he gets out of the car, shutting the door and walking around it to get to you. 

“Mhmm.” 

And you’re glad that he is. 

You place your hand on his shoulder, giving him a pointed look, “why don’t we focus on your date night with Max, King Lucas?” You ask as you start walking towards Family Video, “and we focus less on mine or Lego Head’s dating life.”

He chuckles at both nicknames, he follows you to the store, rushing towards the door, he grabs the handle and opens it before you can, bowing his head with a playful smile on his face as he gestures to you to walk in first.

“Dork,” you chuckle. 

You step into the store with a smile on your face and excitement rising up in you, knowing that he is here. Your eyes instantly catch him standing behind the counter with his arms crossed, biceps on full display as he wears a black shirt beneath the green vest, his hair slicked back a little, probably from running his fingers through it all morning. A smirk tugs at his lips, and normally, it would drive you crazy and make your skin prickle, but not now. 

Definitely not now. 

Because the smirk, the look in his eyes that he always looks at you with, isn’t directed at you, no, it’s directed at her. 

The girl you only recently found out about, the girl you hoped was long gone and away from Hawkins. 

Jennifer Mitchell stands in front of Steve in all her glory, clad in a short sundress, her boobs are nearly on full display, her dark waves falling down her tanned back as she twirls the front strand around her finger, she glances back at you when the bell above the door goes off, her plump lips are the first thing you look at – god, you can’t even lie to yourself and think that she isn't gorgeous, because she is, you’re not blind. 

She’s got a pretty face, curves that make her look like a goddess. She’s perfect. 

A few months back, you would have swallowed down the jealousy inside of you, and you’d walk away, because there would be no point in dwelling on those thoughts in your head. 

But now you have him. 

And so far, you haven’t seen him flirting with other girls in front of you, you haven’t felt the need to worry about him hooking up with anyone else, even when it was there in the back of your mind, you ignored it and pretended that you were the only one. 

But you aren’t, you aren’t the only one, you aren’t the special one, you aren’t enough for him. 

The bitterness on your tongue is strong, just like the burning in your chest, the red and ugly flames that become brighter and brighter the longer you look between them. 

The way he stands before her, so confident and cocky, the way he talks to her, the way he is so close, the way his lips are curled into a smirk.

You could throw up. 

His eyes meet yours, and you instantly look away with an eye roll and a sigh, making your way into the horror movie section without bothering to greet him. 

What you failed to notice was how bored he looked until he saw you, and how his eyes lit up when he took in the sight of you, the way his plastered smirk turned into a soft smile. 

“Hey Steve,” Lucas greets him, waving his hand at him as he follows you. 

“Hey guys,” Steve greets you both, even though you have already walked past him and turned your back to him. His shoulders slump a little, but you’re long gone to see.

Robin is stacking up tapes, humming along to the song that plays on the radio, standing with her back turned to you, she doesn’t notice you or Lucas, until the latter taps her on the shoulder, startling her a bit. 

She turns around, some horror movie tape in her hand, her features relax when she sees the two of you. 

“Oh, hey guys! What’s up?” She grins. 

“Lucas is looking for a movie, for his date night with Max,” you say, smiling at the boy beside you. 

“Aw!” Robin pouts, tilting her head as she looks at him with an adoring smile on her lips, “you two are just the cutest.” 

Lucas rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the smile that appears on his face. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you both off, taking a step back, “I will just… look around for the perfect movie or go bother Steve while you girls chit chat,” he mumbles before he leaves the aisle again. 

Robin frowns at him, “why don’t you chit chat with us? We wanna know more about your date!” 

“She can tell you all about it!” Lucas points at you, blushing already. 

She chuckles at the flustered look on his face, watching as he inches away from the two of you, her eyes fall on Steve, who is still talking to Jennifer, who is now leaning over the counter, a pen in her hand and a note in front of her, she’s writing down her number, no doubt. She straightens back up, giving Steve a flirty smile – yeah, she definitely wrote down her number. She hands him the note before she turns around and makes her way out, looking over her shoulder one more time to wave at him. 

You clear your throat, looking around at the tapes in front of you, “so… they’re having a movie night. We went to Big Buy’s first, he got a bunch of her favorite snacks, and then we stopped at the record store, he bought her a new album – oh, but he’s also been talking about making her a mixtape, which I think is super cute!” You ramble, not noticing that Robin’s eyes are elsewhere. 

She raises her eyebrows, craning her neck a little. 

Steve turns around with the note in his hand, he doesn’t even open it, he doesn’t even look twice at it, he just throws it in the trash and turns back around, running his fingers through his hair, for the millionth time today. He reaches for his magazine and continues flipping through it like nothing happened. 

Robin’s jaw nearly drops at his action. 

When has he ever done anything like this? 

“And I thought maybe she will like a horror movie, so that Lucas can wrap his arm around her…” Your voice falters a little when you notice that she isn’t even listening. “Robs?” You mumble, waving your hand in front of her hypnotized face. You turn around and follow her gaze. Your eyes land on Steve, who is now alone again – a sight that fills you with… relief. 

You turn back around, raising your eyebrows at her. 

Robin seems to snap out of her stupor, shaking her head a little before her blue eyes meet yours again. 

“Sorry, spaced out.” 

“Because of Dingus?” You chuckle, tilting your head, “you’re not turning straight are you?” You joke, earning a slap to your shoulder from the blonde. 

She gags at your words, before she starts laughing. 

“Okay! So… we are looking for a horror movie for the love birds?” She asks. 

You nod. 

“Alright,” she smiles, nodding her head as she turns towards the tapes, looking through them with squinted eyes. 

And while she is distracted, you can’t help but turn back to Steve to look at him properly, even when you can only see his back, your eyes are filled with longing, and still with jealousy. 

Did she leave her number before she left?

Is he gonna take her out on a date now?

Is he gonna see her instead of you now? 

Is he gonna replace you with her? – That thought leaves you with nothing but sadness, not the burning red anger that you feel when you think about him hooking up with her. As long as he comes back to you, everything will be okay, you will be okay. But, if he leaves for good, and he replaces you with someone else, the anger won’t be the feeling in control. 

With a sigh, you turn away from him and look back at Robin, who reaches for some Zombie apocalypse movie that you have never even heard of before. 

Lucas doesn’t seem to mind that she’s the one picking the movies out for him, once he’s got everything he needs, you both make your way over the counter, and you once again have to hide your feelings behind a confident smile as you’re forced to face him again. 

“Having a movie night?” Steve asks as he grabs the tapes, taking a look at them. 

His voice alone makes your stomach flutter. 

“Yeah, my parents are having a date night, they won’t be home until past midnight, so… I’m having a date night with Max,” Lucas grins and places his hands on the counter.

“So you purposely picked the horror movies so you can wrap your arm around her, huh?” Steve smirks at him, before his eyes move to yours and he winks at you when Lucas looks down. 

One look from him, one smile, one tiny little action and all your worries are out the window for a second. All you see is him, all you feel in your chest is the pounding of your heart that he causes every single time, he leaves goosebumps on your skin, he leaves you aching and wanting for more. 

Every time you’re with him, every time he smiles at you, nothing around you no longer exists, none of your bad thoughts, none of the girls he had been with, not even the one that just stood here in your place, the one that caused you a sliver of panic. 

You’re truly and utterly ruined. 

Steve turns you into a lovesick puppy, you wear the pink sunglasses when you’re with him, no longer able to think straight – you are blind and unaware of absolutely everything. And it should scare you, it really should, but you don’t care, not right now, you might not ever. 

Steve could do anything to you, and you’d still look at him the same. 

“That was her and Robin’s idea,” Lucas murmurs, nudging your shoulder. 

“Oh?” Steve raises his eyebrows, smirking at you, “well, Robin must be the expert.” 

“Not me?” You ask, tilting your head at him. 

“Nah,” he shakes his head as he looks down, ringing up the tapes, “you’re the type of girl that wants to be protected during horror movies.” 

A laugh falls from your lips, “right.” 

Lucas looks between the two of you, eyes flashing with mischief, “well, Steve, you seem like the guy to protect the girl during horror movies,” he wiggles his brows, “so, I’d say you’re the perfect match for each other.”

You expect Steve to say something slightly mean, to keep the cover up, but instead, he looks back at Lucas before his hazel eyes lock with you, and an even bigger smirk tugs at his lips, as his eyes move up and down your body teasingly. 

“Yeah? I guess Blondie and I should have a little movie night then huh?” 

Lucas snorts, not taking Steve’s words seriously, knowing that this would be way too easy. 

But you know what Steve means by that. 

“Mhmm, sure,” you nod, tilting your head at the handsome brunette.

Lucas looks between the two of you, rolling his eyes, “you guys can stop playing, I know you won’t actually do that,” he mumbles, taking your words as a joke. 

He pulls out his wallet, and pays for the movies, taking the receipt as well after Steve places it on the counter. 

“Maybe I’ll convince you two to spend some time alone someday though,” he grins at the both of you, not noticing the way Steve looks at you. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you mumble, stepping away from the counter, “come on, buddy.” 

You raise your eyebrows at Steve as you bring your hand up to your neck, where he had left a new hickey. 

His eyes flash with lust and he bites his lip as he nods at you. 

Excitement rushes through your body, despite what you had walked into just minutes ago, you can’t wait to see him tonight. 

You flash him a smile before you leave. 

Completely unaware of the storm it causes inside of him. 

His eyes stay on you, even when you’re out of the store and inching closer and closer to your car. He tilts his head a little, so he can see more of you through the glass door, he watches the way your skirt bounces a little, he feels like a perv when he wonders about your panties, what color they are, if they’re lacy or not, but he can’t help it, especially when he thinks about your previous night together – how you looked beneath him, how pretty your face looked when it contorted into pleasure, how his name fell from your lips so beautifully, how your hands felt on his skin, how you clung to him as he thrusted in and out of your tight pussy. 

Steve licks his lips, gripping the edges of the counter, watching as you get into your car. 

His mouth waters as he thinks about devouring you, tasting you on his tongue and making you scream out in pleasure, again and again, until you’re nothing but a whimpering, shaking mess beneath his hands. 

He looks at the watch around his wrist, nearly groaning in annoyance, three more hours to go. 

“Hey,” Robin walks up to him, “what are you doing tonight?” She asks as she leans against the counter next to him. 

He takes a look at her, finding her staring at him in pure curiosity, eyebrows pulled together as her eyes stare at him expectedly.

Fuck. 

“Uh…” He murmurs, scratching the back of his neck, he tilts his head down, eyes falling on the trash can and the note he threw away. “I’m meeting… Jennifer.” He smiles, hoping that she will believe him, hoping that she will remember the time he talked about the girl a few months back. 

“Oh?” Robin nudges her chin up a little, crossing her arms over her chest. 

Steve nods, smiling as heat rushes up to his cheeks. 

“A-And you?” He asks, hoping that she won’t ask any questions. 

“Oh, nothing, maybe I’m just gonna go bother Eddie,” she shrugs, still staring at him and at the way his cheeks burn red. 

Steve avoids her eyes, and that is something he only does when he is hiding something – usually it’s nothing serious, nothing big. But this is different. 

He is hiding something else from her. 

She knows it, she is sure of it. 

He stopped looking at Nancy, he stopped talking about Heidi and Linda, he threw away a note of one of the hottest girls of Hawkins. 

“Sounds great,” he mumbles, bringing his hand up to her hair, he ruffles it, chuckling at the annoyed groan that falls from her lips. 

“I’ll be right back, Robs.” 

He walks away from her and disappears into the hallway. 

And she waits, she waits until she hears the door to the break room closing. She listens closely, biting her lip as she already looks down into the trash can, eying the note as her fingers itch for it. 

The moment the door shuts, she quickly bends down, digging her hand into the trash that is luckily only filled with papers and wrappers, she reaches for the folded note and straightens back up, turning around after taking another look into the hallway, she leans her elbows on the counter, and unfolds the note. 

Sure enough, Jennifer’s number is written on the white paper, under her name that is decorated with a heart on the side. 

She raises her eyebrows, her lips part in surprise as she stares at it for a long time, unable to make sense of why he would do this. 

Not only was she surprised to see him rejecting a girl a few days back, now he has also done… this. 

Maybe… just maybe, he is sick of dates that lead to nothing and sex that has no meaning. After all, he did complain about his dislike of meaningless relationships that only consist of sex. It was fun for a while, but he got sick of it, he wanted something different, something real. 

So maybe, that is why he keeps rejecting those girls and throwing away notes. 

When he comes back a few minutes later, Robin acts innocent but she keeps a close eye on him, taking in the sight of his glowing eyes, the smile that keeps appearing on his lips whenever he gets lost in his thoughts, the blush that sometimes rises to his cheeks – If only she knew the reason behind it. 

If only she knew that Steve wasn’t thinking about his upcoming ‘date’ with Jennifer. 

If only she knew that he wasn’t rushing home after his shift because of her. 

If only she knew what he was really going to be doing tonight. 

If only she knew that it would be your door he would knock at. 

“Missed me?” You smirk at him after you open the door, leaning against it, you don’t let him in just yet, turning your head to look at the clock in your hallway, “you’re here earlier than usual, someone’s eager to get his dick wet, huh?”

Steve huffs, lips tugging into a smile as he looks away for a moment. 

“Don’t act like you haven’t been waiting for me,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you, he puts his hand on your waist and pushes you to step back so he can walk into your house, he closes the door behind him, ready to grab your face and pull you into a deep kiss, but you seem to be having different ideas, you take another step back, letting his hand fall to his side as you turn around and make your way down the hallway instead of upstairs into your bedroom. 

He furrows his eyebrows as he watches you disappear into the kitchen. 

“Do you want a drink?” You call out to him. 

“Uh… yeah, sure.” 

Usually, you save that for later, but not today. 

Steve scratches the back of his neck, looking around the empty hallway, he throws his keys on the counter and makes his way into the kitchen, almost startled by the way you push the cold beer in his hand, your fingers grazing his for a split second before you pull your hand away again, and grab another beer for yourself. 

You pop the can and take a sip, eyes staring into his now. 

A smirk tugs at his lips as he takes in the look of your darkened eyes, the lust that is clearly there, but there is something else tonight as well, he can’t pinpoint what it is, maybe because it’s a look he had never seen in your eyes until now. 

He licks his lips as he eyes the top you’re wearing, low cut and stopping just below your belly button, showing off your cleavage and your soft skin. You replaced your skirt with shorts that are even shorter than what you wore before, but they look much more comfortable, soft and perfect to… sleep in. He can’t wait to rip them off of you and dive his face into your pussy.

He mimics your action, popping open his own can. 

“So…” You start, piquing his interest. 

He knew there was something, a reason as to why you didn’t pounce on him the way you usually do, the moment you open the door for him. 

You start walking into the living room, and he follows. 

“You talked to Jennifer today. Having a date, Stevie?” You ask, taking a look over your shoulder.

Something you’ve always been good at, was hiding your true feelings, your jealousy that you have dealt with over the years… but, hiding your jealousy is much more challenging now that you have him in some way. You try your best, you put on a brave, smug face and look at him with a smirk on your lips. 

You take a seat on the couch, and he doesn’t hesitate to sit down beside you, eyes glinting with curiosity. 

He doesn’t have a date, he doesn’t have one planned, and he’s not looking for one with her either. But you don’t know that, and you don’t have to know that. 

There is a sliver of hope in him, that you might ask this question out of jealousy, despite the teasing tone behind your voice, he hopes that it’s that. 

“Uh… I don’t know,” he mumbles as he looks down at his beer, he takes a sip, unaware of the glare that is directed at him. 

“Aw, why?” You ask, tilting your head at him, “didn’t she fuck like a… goddess?” 

When he looks back at you, he finds you staring intensely, the smirk still playing on your lips, though with a hint of tension, your eyes are a little squinted, if he didn’t look so closely, he would’ve missed the fire behind your eyes. 

He doesn’t care about how great of a fuck she was, no one is better than you, no one appeals to him the way you do, right now, not that he would ever admit it to your face. 

He wants to keep you, he wants you to keep him, he wants you to feel jealous. 

“Mmm, can’t remember it that well,” he shrugs, sipping his beer, “so maybe I should refresh my memory a bit.”

You are driven by anger, by jealousy, his words make you see red, it feels as though you are in a haze, you can’t see clearly, you can’t see the look in his eyes, the teasing smirk on his lips, the smugness in his features after saying that to you. 

You know he isn’t yours, you know that you’re exclusive, that he can go on dates and fuck as many other girls as he pleases, but you don’t want that. 

You want to be the only one. 

You want to be his only one. 

The fire burns beneath your skin, the gnawing feeling in your chest wanting you to move, to do something, to prove to him that you are the only one that he needs. 

You slam your beer on the coffee table, and then you reach for his, quickly placing it next to yours before you turn back to him, scooting closer to him on your knees, you grab onto his shoulders as you straddle him.

His large hands instantly reach for your hips, eyes blazing with lust as his smirk transforms into a lust filled one. 

You cup his cheeks and without hesitating to, you smash your lips against his, dragging him into a rough kiss that he reciprocates right away, moaning approvingly as he finally gets what he had been craving all day long. 

His fingers dig into your sides as he pulls you closer and closer, until you are flush against him and you are sitting on his dick, the only thing now separating you both are the clothes on your bodies. 

You can feel him growing hard beneath you, his dick straining against his jeans and into your center, begging for attention. You slip your tongue into his mouth, and deepen the kiss with a whimper that vibrates against his lips, you taste the beer, the mint gum that he must’ve spit out before he came here. You pick up the pace, kissing him faster, rougher, more desperately. 

Your hands leave his face, reaching into his hair instead.

A deep groan leaves his lips at the feeling of your fingers pulling his hair.

You start moving your hips, grinding against him as you keep moving your lips against his, still keeping control – the way you plan to keep all night. 

His hands start roaming your body, getting lost beneath your top, he moans when he finds no bra to unclasp. His fingertips graze your smooth skin, moving to your front, he squeezes your waist with both hands, as he tries to buck his hips up to throw you under him, but you don’t budge, not today. You tug at his hair roughly, groaning into the kiss as you grind down harder against him, keeping him in place. 

A whimper falls from his lips and he knits his eyebrows together, something deep within him stirs at your action, making him weak beneath you, making him putty in your hands. 

You kiss him as though it’s the last thing you will ever do, taking his breath and making it your own as you swallow all his moans, you only pull away when the lack of oxygen gets to you, but you don’t hesitate to tilt his head to the side, and latching your lips onto his neck, sucking and biting his skin the way he usually does to you.

“F-Fuck,” he whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as he grabs your waist even tighter than before, “Blondie.” 

His jeans have never felt more uncomfortable than they do right now, dick aching and throbbing as you keep grinding your pussy against it. 

He tilts his head further to the side, allowing you more access to his neck, you instantly start peppering kisses along his side and his jaw, switching between sucking and kissing roughly, and Steve basks in the feeling, closing his eyes as he gets lost in the pleasure of your lips blessing him with such intensity. 

His heart is pounding in his chest, his stomach swirling with lust as he holds you tightly, wanting to feel you close and closer. 

Your hands slip down his stomach, fingers grabbing at his shirt, you pull it over his head swiftly, not wasting more time, you throw it behind you somewhere. 

His eyes shoot open, and he looks at you in surprise when you start kissing down his chest instead, nails grazing his shoulder, his collarbones and the hair on his chest before your hands fall lower and lower, skimming his stomach, making him shudder at the feeling. His hands fall to his sides as he stares at you in awe, watching the way your lips trail kisses down his stomach. And then, you fall to your knees in front of him, hands reaching for his belt. 

“O-Oh shit,” he blurts out, eyes growing wide, “y-you don’t have to,” he rushes, despite feeling the need to see your pretty lips wrapped around his cock. 

“Shut up,” you nearly growl, “you’re gonna sit there and look pretty for me while I suck your dick.” 

“O-Okay,” he whimpers, eyes turning black as he watches you. 

Who is he to say no to this, to you anyways?

He had been dreaming of this moment. 

You unbuckle his belt hastily, popping open the button on his jeans as you start tugging his pants and boxers down. He lifts himself up a little, helping you. His dick springs free, slapping against his stomach, his tip an angry red as pre cum leaks out and rolls down his length already. 

You will never not be amazed by how big he is, no matter the times you have seen him or felt him inside of you. 

You lick your lips, placing your hands on his thighs as you move closer to him, you look up into his eyes, the shock, the lust and the desperation in them making you feel satisfied. Because this, all of his feelings, the look in his eyes is only reserved for you, right now. No one else. Just you. 

You keep eye contact as you spit into your palm before you wrap your hand around his aching cock. 

He furrows his eyebrows, biting his lip as he looks at your much smaller hand, and the way you start jerking him off slowly, teasing him. 

“Don’t tease me like that,” he growls. 

A huff falls from your lips, the fire inside of you, growing bigger, “don’t tell me what to do.” 

Steve had never seen this side of you. 

You are bratty sometimes, even mean, but you are never like this, you never order him around or tell him what to do – but this only gives him the confirmation that he needs, you are jealous. 

And that fuels his own fire. 

“Stop teasing and suck my cock, Blondie.” 

You glare at him, clenching your jaw and unclenching it a second later when you move closer and closer until your lips are only inches away from him. 

“When’s the last time you got your dick sucked, Stevie?” You ask before you stick your tongue out, pressing the tip to the underside of his cock and licking up to his tip. 

A needy moan falls from his lips, and he has to restrain himself from throwing his head back. 

“Answer the question,” you murmur as you swirl your tongue around his tip, welcoming the salty taste of his pre cum on your tongue. 

You want to know if he has been with anyone else since you, you need to know. 

He curses under his breath, curling his fists as he moans again when you keep teasing him with your tongue.

“I-I don’t know! I don’t remember!” He nearly whines in desperation, cheeks growing red under the dim lights in your living room. 

He truly doesn’t, it’s been long before you, and it wasn’t very memorable either.

He never let you suck his dick, you don’t know why, but every time you tried to kiss down his body, he pulled you back up and threw you under him instead, using his tongue to pleasure you instead of letting you do the same to him – no guy has ever denied head, no one but Steve and it confused you, but you always guessed that he finds more enjoyment in giving, than receiving. 

“Hmm, before me?” 

“Yeah, fuck… Yeah, before you!”

Good. 

You spit down on his dick, letting it roll down his length before you wrap your lips around him and envelop him with wet warmth as you take him down your throat, tearing a gasp out of him. 

He almost jumps up, eyes growing wide as you nearly take his full length. No one has ever been able to take all of him. He is aware of his size, of his length, one girl nearly threw up all over him when his tip hit the back of her throat, but you, you are special. 

“Mmm,” you moan around him, closing your eyes as you start sucking him off, like you’re doing it for your own pleasure. 

His lips part, jaw dropping as he stares down at you. 

You start bobbing your head, slowly at first, moans vibrating against him as you get lost in it. 

Steve can’t hold back any longer, he brings his hand down to your head, grabbing your hair as he whimpers your name loudly and it only prompts you to move faster. 

You hollow your cheeks around him and take him deeper and deeper, until he hits the back of your throat, and you keep sucking him off with no struggle, you breathe through your nose calmly, moans still falling as you pleasure him in ways no one ever has before. 

He nearly wants to curse and pull at your hair when he thinks about how many men had the pleasure of feeling this before him. An ugly feeling bubbling in his chest at the thought of it, he had been so good at pushing those thoughts aside ever since he learned more about your past, ever since you revealed more of your secrets to him. He wasn’t very pleased to find out details about your sex life, a weird feeling cursed through his veins every time he found out something new, but he couldn’t hide his curiosity either, wanting to know things himself… so he can make you feel better than they ever could. 

But now is not the time to think of such things, he pushes everything aside, every worry, every weird feeling in his chest, and he focuses on you, just you. 

“Y-You’re doing so good, B-Blondie…” He gasps, pulling at your hair a little, he watches you, he watches the way tears start to roll down your cheeks as you suck him off eagerly, desperately, and in such a dirty way. 

Saliva rolls down your chin, your moans falling and vibrating against his throbbing cock, glassy eyes now looking up into his as you bring one hand up to his length, using your hand where your mouth can’t reach, while you use your other hand to play with his balls gently. 

Steve is speechless, he can’t come up with the right words, he is in awe, in absolute bliss as he gets lost in the pleasure that you bless him with. 

You both should’ve done this earlier, much much earlier. 

His eyes nearly fall shut, but he doesn’t, he can’t look away from you, not even when his own eyes fill with tears from pleasure, turning the vision in front of him blurry. 

He adores your big eyes and your swollen lips as he watches how they move back and forth on his aching dick. 

He feels the heat in his stomach spreading, moving down to his pelvis, to his thighs. His breathing gets heavier, the more seconds pass, his moans get louder and needier, his heart starts racing. He is so close, so very close, and it feels so good. Not as good as it feels to be inside of you, to feel you around him, to feel you clinging to his body, to feel how tight you get around him, but this is definitely the second best thing he has ever come to feel. 

He nearly starts drooling, unable to close his mouth. 

His stomach contracts and he digs his fingers further into your hair, he keeps his hips still, not wanting to gag you. 

You remove one hand from him, and move it down your own body, slipping it past your shorts and your panties. You moan around him as you push your fingers through your slick folds, teasing your clit before you slip two fingers inside of you, stretching yourself open for his cock. 

“Fuck!” He gasps, watching you wide eyed as your moans get louder, “are you touching yourself?” 

Another moan from you is the only confirmation he needs, and that, only brings him closer to his high. 

You feel him twitching in your mouth, and you would love nothing more than to keep doing this until he cums down your throat, but you pull away from him, almost smirking at the loud whine that leaves his lips when you release him with a pop!

You’re surprised to see tears in his eyes, desperation lingering in them as he stares at you, waiting for more. He is breathing heavily, his lips parted and cheeks glowing. He looks so good like this, so sexy. It takes everything in you not to sink back to your knees and finish what you started.

You rise to your feet, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach at the sight of his disheveled looks. 

You quickly take your shorts and your panties off, letting them pool at your feet. 

Steve swallows, cursing under his breath as he leans forward to retrieve the condom he stuck in his back pocket earlier. Before he can even rip the foil apart, you snatch it from his hand and straddle him just the way you did before, you bite your lip as you open the foil and pick out the condom. 

Steve doesn’t realize just how fast he is breathing, how needy he seems as he grabs your bare hips with his hands, urging you to put the goddamn condom on his throbbing dick.

You scoot closer, licking your lips as you roll the condom over his length, eyes flickering back and forth between his eyes and his lips, a smirk tugging on yours. 

Steve can’t help but admire you, staring at your slick and swollen lips, at the tears that pool on your lower lash line, your nipples that poke through your thin top. You’re hot, you’re so fucking hot, he can barely contain himself. 

You grab his left shoulder as you use your free hand to tease his cock by slipping it through your folds, making you both moan in pleasure. 

“I-I’m gonna… fuck… Blondie!” He warns, glaring into your eyes. 

You can’t even help but chuckle, taunting him with a smug smirk on your lips. 

He holds your hips tighter, face growing redder, he is ready to flip you over and fuck the brat out of you. He is so close, so goddamn close already, it won’t take much for him to shoot his load into the stupid condom. 

You look into his eyes, as you finally give into both yours and his needs, you sink down on his cock, scrunching up your face in pleasure as he splits you open. 

“O-Oh,” he groans, gripping your hips so tightly that it’ll definitely bruise your delicate skin, “just like that, ba– good girl.” 

You bite your lip so harshly that moments later, you can taste blood, but you don’t care, you don’t care about anything when he is inside of you and his hands hold you so needily.

You take him inch by inch, until his cock is buried deep inside of you and you’re fully seated on top of him. 

He is moaning, whimpering beneath you, and you didn’t even get started yet. 

You take a moment, a few seconds, to adjust to his size, blinking away the tears that keep building up in your eyes, your mouth waters as the mix of pain and pleasure takes over, you shut your eyes, not seeing him any longer, not seeing the way he’s looking at you, like he is in awe, in utter bliss, like you’re the only thing that matters in this godforsaken world.

His eyes take in the way you throw your head back, the way your lips part in pleasure, the way the strap of your top falls down your arm, exposing more of your chest to him. He licks his lips as he moves closer, kissing your shoulder and up to your neck, trying to distract himself from how good it feels to be balls deep in your pussy that he wishes he could feel around him without the rubber that separates him from feeling you the way he only did once before.

You wrap your arms around him, cupping the back of his neck lightly, as you roll your hips, earning a moan from him. 

He instantly pulls away from your neck, stopping the kisses, he needs to see you again, to watch your face contorted in pleasure. 

He leans back against the pillows behind him, still holding your hips tightly as he takes a look at you. 

Your eyes fall to his neck, you would choke him, that was something you were into before. Before the whole upside down thing happened, before the Demobats choked him, before Jason choked you. 

So instead, you grab his hair tightly, knowing that it’ll make him whimper, you pull his neck back, and lean in, licking his skin teasingly before you start kissing him there again and giving the scar around his neck the soft attention it deserves as you roll your hips again, and clench around him. 

“Did Jennifer do this to you, Steve?” You murmur against his skin as you press another soft kiss to his scar, “or did she just lay there, making you do all the work?” 

He doesn’t know what drives him more crazy, the fact that you’re jealous, the fact that you’re sitting on his cock or the raspiness of your voice as you kiss him like he means something to you.

You roll your hips again and again, making him whine and groan in pleasure, but then, you still on top of him, making him wince as you suck on the side of his neck. 

“She totally let you do all the work while she screamed your name to fill your ego, didn’t she?” 

He clenches his jaw, growling at you, “Blondie… if you don’t move…” 

“If I don’t move, what?” You ask as you pull back to look at him, lips curling into a smirk as you look into his angry eyes, “I can just say no and you wouldn’t be able to do anything.” 

He gulps at your words, but he nods, hazel eyes taking on the desperation again. 

“S-She didn’t ride me,” he admits. 

“I know she doesn’t… Billy told me she sucked at it,” you smirk, not giving him the time to react before you finally start moving. Slamming yourself down on his cock.

“Oh fuck, just like that!” He moans, wrapping his arms around you fully as he pulls you flush against him, “don’t stop!” 

Your own moans start falling from your lips, hands clinging to his hair now as you ride him. 

His hand gripping your sides and tugging at your top, silently begging for you to take it off – and you grant him his wish, pulling back just enough to rid yourself off the skimpy material, you throw it on the couch, gasping in surprise when he buries his face in your chest. 

“S-Steve,” you moan as you start bouncing on his cock. 

He massages your boobs, moaning against you as he wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking it. 

You let yourself get lost in the pleasure, shutting your eyes.

“Y-You feel so good,” he stutters against you, “you’re driving me fucking crazy.” 

“Yeah?” You whimper, grabbing his hair even rougher than before, pulling him back so you can see his face again, his lust filled eyes, his swollen lips, “you drive me crazy too,” you whisper before you slam your lips against his, nudging your nose against his as the kiss starts off roughly. He meant those words physically, while you mean it in a whole other way. More ways than only one. 

“Mmm.” He whines as he twitches inside of you. 

You know he won’t last much longer, he was ready to bust in your mouth just minutes ago, you’re impressed by the way he is able to hold back for so long. 

His hands touch you everywhere, your back, your ass – groping it for a second before he brings it up to your front, tilting his head down, he watches the way you ride him, the way his cock disappears inside of you, a sight that only brings him closer and closer to his orgasm. 

The room is filled with moans and whimpers, along with the squelching noises of your pussy, it’s what nears him to the edge he’s been dangerously close to since you wrapped your lips him.

Nothing could be better than this. 

Nothing. 

Your walls clench around him, and your moans get high pitched now, your lips move lazily against his. 

He presses his fingertips against your clit, rubbing circles on your nub. 

You respond by grabbing his shoulders tightly and picking up the pace, catching him off guard when you start bouncing harder and faster. 

“Holy fuck!” He whimpers as you both break the kiss to look at one another, “I-I’m gonna cum!” He warns, moving his fingers faster on your clit. 

You drag your nails down his chest, pressing your palms against his hairy chest as you lean your forehead against his, blinking away the tears of pleasure. 

Your breaths mingle together as your noses bump into each other. 

“Cum for me, Steve.” 

“Cum with me, Blondie,” he demands as he keeps on pleasuring your clit with his calloused fingers. 

You press your lips back against his, moaning into the kiss when you let go, and cum around him, as he spills into the condom, groaning loudly as he pulls you close, breathing heavily and whimpering at the feeling of your walls pulsating around him. 

You stop moving after a moment, falling against his chest, you break the kiss, sighing in contentment. 

Steve is too speechless to speak, still coming down from his high, he breathes heavily as he runs his finger up and down your spine, not knowing that a small action like that, is able to set your heart on fire, making it flutter and race at the same time. 

You place your head on his chest, closing your eyes for a moment, and you let yourself get lost in the feeling of him, of the way it feels to be in his arms while he touches you gently, softly, his lips on your shoulders as he kisses you as though you are his, like you are the only one that matters, like you are the only one for him. 

When in reality, you’re not. 

You’re only this to him, something, someone who keeps him warm. 

While he is your everything. 

You aren’t the only one, you will never be, and yet, you will always take him back whenever he feels like having your body beneath him, instead of someone else’s, and even though it crushes your heart a little, you will always run into his open arms whenever he wants you.

You open your eyes again, staring into nothing. You only pull away when he stops with the kisses and squeezes your waist, tucking your hair behind your ear as he cups your cheek, pulling you back so he can see your face. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks when your eyes meet his again, his dimples show when he smiles at you. 

“Well… I discovered something I didn’t know I was into, just now.” 

You can’t even help but giggle, pride swelling in your chest. 

His eyes light up, he lets his hand move down your side again. 

“Ah,” you nod as a smirk reappears on your lips, “that confirms that no one ever rode you before.”

He rolls his eyes at you, shaking his head with a chuckle. 

“Don’t get fucking cocky now,” he murmurs as he pinches your ass, making you yelp a little. 

“Let’s take this upstairs,” he smirks, “I wanna return the favor.”

And just like that, all your worries are out the window for now, because tonight, you are the only one on his mind, tonight he belongs to you. 

-

Eddie is sitting out on the porch, smoking a cigarette as he looks up at the starry sky. 

Wayne has a couple of friends over – Hopper included. He hears their laughter echoing in the backyard, the smell of burning wood lingering in the air from the little bonfire. 

Eddie blows out the smoke of his cigarette, returning his attention to the notebook on his lap, he skims over the words he wrote before. He is working on a new song, one that he will hopefully play at The Hideout someday, soon. 

The sound of footsteps pull his attention away from his notebook again. He furrows his eyebrows as he looks into his darkened driveway, craning his neck to see better. 

For a moment, he thinks it’s you, until he sees the bike next to the lone figure that inches closer and closer and he recognizes the short hair and the red converse. 

“Buckley,” Eddie says loudly, a grin pulling at his lips, “to what do I owe you the pleasure?” 

“Hey,” she mumbles, a serious look in her features – a rare sight to see. 

She drops her bike on the grass before she makes her way up on his porch, plopping down beside him. A loud sigh falls from her lips.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at her, grin slowly falling when he realizes that she’s in a bad mood. 

He stubs out his cigarette, knowing that she hates the smell of it. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. “Did something happen?” 

She shakes her head and turns her body towards him, looking into his eyes. 

“Steve is lying to me about something.” 

“Oh?” 

She nods, eying his face, trying to figure him out, if he knows something. 

“Yeah,” she mumbles, “I-I don’t know what it is, but… we usually tell each other everything, so either, it’s something super embarrassing or… something he doesn’t feel ready to talk about.” 

Eddie nods. 

“He’s been acting weird for a few weeks now, but it’s not just that.” 

Her eyes are troubled as she waves her hands around. “Today, Jennifer Mitchell walked into Family Video.” 

Eddie raises his eyebrows again, curiosity sparking inside of him at the mention of that name. He remembers the conversation at the bonfire, how he gloated about that girl. 

“She flirted with him and left him a note with her number written on it!” 

Eddie chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “okay…?”

“Guess what he did!” 

He shrugs, shaking his head, “I dunno, he called her?”

“No!” She throws her hands up, “that’s the thing! He didn’t call her! He threw the note away, but he told me that he’s going on a date with her tonight, when clearly, he isn’t!”

“Oh…Oh!”

“Yeah, oh!” Robin nods, her blue eyes shining with confusion. “But it’s not even the first time that he’s done something like this! Five girls left him their numbers on notes, he threw them all away, every single one of them!” 

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest, pressing his lips together. 

“You know, normally I’d think that maybe… maybe he’s sick of all the dates and the sex but I swear to god, he has new hickeys every few days or so… so he’s definitely being sexually active!” 

“Huh,” Eddie nods as something sparks in his mind, “that’s uh… interesting.” 

“Yeah, so I was thinking!” She raises her hands up, tugging at her hair for a moment as her eyes widen, “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s the only explanation that I have!” 

Eddie tilts his head to the side, squinting his eyes, he can see where this is going, what is about to leave her lips. 

“And that is?” 

She takes a deep breath, blue eyes staring into brown ones as she presses her palms together. 

“Steve is gay.” 

And Eddie blinks once, twice, three times…maybe sixty times. 

“What did you just say…?” 

“Think about it!” She nearly yells, “not going out with girls anymore, throwing their phone numbers away, Heidi suddenly being good at sex!?” She scoffs, shaking her head a few times. “Nuh uh. I’m– rejecting girls? Steve!?” 

Eddie sits back, and stares into nothing. 

“Holy shit,” he laughs, “you think he’s into dick?” 

“I’m telling you… I am 90% sure.”

Eddie squints his eyes a little bit. 

“What’s the other 10%?” 

Amusement flashes in Robin’s eyes as she shrugs, “he’s a stripper in Indianapolis at night.” 

Eddie snorts, chuckling as he pinches the bridge of his nose, looking back at the starry sky, he stared at before. 

Robin’s explanation makes sense, but he knows what he saw. Steve’s eyes that day in the pool didn’t follow a man’s figure. 

They were following his best friend. 

♡

A/N: Stripper Steve was Roe's idea, if you're an Eddie girl and you wanna see more of Stripper Steve (and Eddie duh) and you haven't read Do I wanna know go and read it right nowwwww, it's literally one of my fave fics ever

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @taintedcigs @wroteclassicaly @maroon-cardigan @munsonlore @joekeerysmoles @munson-mjstan @sherrylyn628 @ibellcipem @agirlwholovesrockstars

[d0rianw1lde]

Yes, Steve’s currently three cars behind Eddie’s van, following him down a long stretch of dark road on a Friday night. But he swears, it’s for a good reason!

Because what could possibly be the reason that Eddie could never answer his phone on Friday nights? Why they could never be together Friday nights? Why he always seemed so elusive when answering Steve’s questions to him. “Can’t. ‘M just busy.”

“Busy doing what?” Steve would ask.

“Stuff.”

Stuff. Right. Steve’s got the wheel in a white-knuckle grip as they travel down past the city. His heart spikes each time a billboard pops up for a club, or adult stores, or even the closest gas station. Because anything could be true in this moment- any fear Steve has for Eddie’s true intentions could come true in just a few moments.

Eddie’s van finally exits the highway, and Steve tails behind, a bit confused when he zips past the busy city and travels farther, hopping onto a dirt road with a winding path. Further, and further still, until they approach-

A barn? Eddie’s van nestles at the end of a long stretch of cars in the parking lot, and Steve watches as he hops out, a new swagger in his step as he rests his hand on his cuff belt buckle and approaches the doors. He slips in, and with Steve’s coast finally clear, he parks. He waits for a few moments, tapping nervously against the wheel. He takes a deep breath, prepares himself, and makes his way toward the doors.

God, there could be anything behind there- what if the town was right all along, and Eddie had been the leader of some massive cult, and he’s fallen for the trap? What if this was a weird sex thing, and he’d secretly been hooking up with tons of people all at once in a ..barn. Or something.

But Steve can feel a thumping from the ground- melodic, rhythmic. Music is blaring inside.

Music?

He approaches the door, presses against it, and swings it open.

Well, Steve didn’t truly know what he expected to find that night. He expected a bombshell piece of information, and a blowout fight, maybe. Maybe expected to find betrayal laid out at his feet after hours of driving,

But this? This wasn’t on the list.

In a million years, Steve would have never guessed that behind this door was Eddie ‘Metal Forever’ Munson, situated in the center of a large dance floor among a crowd of people dressed in various hues of flannel and tacky cowboy boots, moving in time with the loudest country music Steve’s ever had the (dis?)pleasure of hearing.

And never in a million years did Steve consider that this image could be hot.

Because there, moving in time to a song Steve couldn’t even really begin to point out, in a cropped motorhead muscle-tee, the best-fitting jeans Steve had ever seen, and his damn bandana hanging out of his back pocket was his boyfriend, smiling as he danced alongside a few older women, who both take a moment to appreciate Eddie’s assets.

And he knows every move- god, how long had he been doing this? Steve has to remind himself to shut his mouth and hide before Eddie could see him, but when the patrons all make their quarter turn, they’re all facing Steve, and Eddie’s eyes dart to meet his. There’s a moment of surprise written across his face, before he eventually smugly smiles and throws Steve a wink, giving him a good show as he digs his heel into the dancefloor, spins, and makes sure to slow it down just a tad to give Steve the show he so eagerly came to see.

And Steve wants to leave- he turns on his own heel to quickly exit the barn, but he’s stopped as he goes to push against the door by a hand grabbing his wrists, the familiar cold rings soothing his nerves for a moment before he realizes he’s been caught. Red handed.

“Nuh uh-“ Eddie says, spinning Steve around. “No, you wanna spy? Now you gotta dance.”

[wintersentry]

HIII i love wintersentry. a lot. i have for months so uh. here’s a collection of headcanons of them i’ve made over the past couple months!! (p.s. bear w me i’m new to the whole tumblr thing)

pretty sure a couple people have said this before, but bob is a clothes stealer. 100%. (i’m also obsessed with the idea of him wearing bucky’s red henley. i need to see fanart of this i will explode)

whenever bob has a hard time sleeping and/or wakes up from nightmares, bucky soothes him and his favourite thing to do to distract him from them is to tell him stories, he’ll share dumb stories from when him and steve were kids, and the first time he did it it broke bob out of his trance and sort of confused him a bit when he realised how quickly it took his brain off it. bucky definitely learned the technique from when sam would help him through nightmares. it helps to fill the silence, though

bob was SO awkward when they had their first kiss. he didn’t really know what to say, and he ended up saying something along the lines of “you taste nice” because he didn’t know what else to say. it made bucky laugh for a good 2 minutes, which then embarrassed the hell out of bob, but he definitely comforts him and kisses him some more. just tells him he’s a dork 😭😭 (i also like to think he references this on their wedding day to tease bob)

they are soft. SO INCREDIBLY SOFT. things like sleepy hugs from behind in the mornings, usually when bucky makes breakfast for the rest of the bolts and bob follows him and clings to him. soft kisses on foreheads… couch cuddles while they watch movies, bucky combing through bob’s hair with his hands…

bucky takes note of things bob likes, or if he mentions he wants something he ALWAYS makes sure he gets it for bob. bob could mention one night he wants a specific brand of chocolates, specific flavour, and by the afternoon of the next day there will be a bag of EXACTLY what he wanted bought by bucky.

bucky buys bob flowers. ON EVERY DATE. even sometimes when he makes shopping trips, he might see some really pretty flowers that remind him of bob, and he can’t leave the store without grabbing them for him. because of this habit, they definitely have several vases of flowers spread across their room, but bob will never complain about it.

bucky knows how to dance, bob doesn’t, and he gets embarrassed whenever he tries to. (this does not stop them from dancing to old love songs at 2 in the morning in the light of the refrigerator, never.)

the rest of the bolts found out about bucky and bob’s relationship probably nearly immediately, despite them trying to stay quiet about it, they failed. miserably.

they’re both addicted to instagram shorts. and they send eachother animal videos and cute cat videos. and definitely have spent several hours laying in bed watching them together.

on days when bob doesn’t have the motivation to get out of bed, bucky stays with him. he brings him meals (or gets him takeout if that’s what bob wants) and they watch movies all day together.

whenever they have vacation time, they spend it together and visit different national parks together, they both love exploring nature and hiking together, and they have a scrapbook of their adventures together. bucky always sneaks pictures of bob whenever he gets distracted, because bucky loves capturing bob’s joy.

bucky always finds little trinkets at stores that remind him of bob, so half their bedside table is covered in them.

bucky showing bob how to drive his motorcycle. motorcycle rides in general just to get them both out of the house…

—

very sane about them. SO GLAD PEOPLE ARE FINALLY FINDING THEM AND LOVING THEM !!!! YAAAY

also hi!! this is my first actual post on wintersentry tumblr. nice to meet you all!!! you might recognise me from twitter because that’s where i’m more active (seriously if you search wintersentry on twitter you WILL find me in like 2 seconds 😭) but i wanna try and be more active on here because you are all super cool so… hi!!!! waves!!!

[foulwitchknight]

O!Eddie and B!Steve are both coworkers. Steve is madly in love with Eddie who’s currently being courted by the alpha son of their boss. Billy often sends gifts to Eddie’s apartment or desk and ask him on fancy dates. Steve thinks Eddie might like him too or at least Billy can give him a better life than a disowned Beta could. It all comes to a head during the annual mandatory Christmas party when Steve is forced to watch Eddie dance and flirt with Billy all night. It becomes too much, and he leaves not caring about the risk to his job. He doesn’t realize that Eddie had followed him until he reaches the parking lot where Steve finds out things were not as they seemed.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Someone Borrowed, Someone Blue.

an engagement party, your childhood best friend, one too many glasses of champagne. what could go wrong?

pairing - childhood bestfriend!steve harrington x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. cheating. alcohol mention. so much angst… i’d apologise but i’m not sorry.

word count - 3.7k

author’s note - get it? like, something borrowed, something blue… because it’s a wedding… I was half asleep when that popped into my head and I thought it was perfect, personally. I don’t condone cheating irl, but also… it’s your life, do what you want ;)

as always, reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics!! so, if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging. thanks, angels <3

masterlist. inbox.

The moonlight shines down, glinting off the diamond ring settled on your left hand.

Everyone's dancing, singing, laughing, enjoying each other's company in a rare moment of complete happiness. People keep grabbing you, hugging you, reaching for you to offer their congratulations.

Isn't it just so wonderful? Two people completely in love. Ah, to be young again.

The fairy lights twinkle where they're hung across the garden, acres of grass just begging to be decorated. You'd initially protested this venue - a huge country house in the middle of nowhere, with countless rooms and a huge courtyard.

It's just our engagement party, not our wedding. We don't have to be so extravagant.

This isn't extravagant - not for my family, anyway. Just say yes. I'll plan the entire thing, you don't have to worry.

And so you did. Say yes. To his proposal, the venue, anything he suggests. You can't find it in you to say no, to argue, to fight for what you really want. It isn't worth it.

"There you are, my soon to be wife!"

You take a deep breath, pretending the sound of his voice doesn't make you feel sick.

"My soon to be husband."

He can't see the grimace on your face, even though it's there, loud and clear. He can't read you, has never been able to.

"A car has just pulled up. You expecting anyone else?"

You are, but you won't let yourself get your hopes up. So you lie.

"Don't think so."

"Okay, well... you'll save me a dance, won't you? My mom wants to take some pictures."

You nod reluctantly, patting his arm with as much affection as you can muster.

"I think your brother is calling you."

You direct his attention to where his frat boy siblings are, hollering and yelling for him to come over.

"My guys!"

He departs as quickly as he came, leaving a wave of too strong cologne in his wake.

You take a walk from the garden to the front of the house, curiosity peaked. You scan the parking lot, and your heart stops when you spot the car in the corner.

A burgundy 1983 BMW 733i.

He's here.

You spin on your heel, searching almost frantically, when you hear someone clear their throat. You turn around, and there he is.

Leaning against a pillar, stood in a dress shirt and tailored trousers, hair perfectly styled.

Steve Harrington.

You're half convinced you're dreaming. The world moves around you in a daze, crickets chirping and wind blowing gently. You lock eyes with him, and can't fight the grin that spreads across your face.

“Don’t fret, baby. The life of the party has arrived.”

You scoff but almost run towards him, tripping over in your heels. He meets you halfway, arms snaking around your waist to keep you steady as you wrap yourself around him.

He smells the same. Cologne, spearmint, a faint note of diesel from the car. He smells like home.

Past home, you remind yourself. Not anymore. You have a new home now, with a soon to be husband that doesn’t understand you and a soon to be family that is built on morally questionable money and fake niceties. Steve’s a person of your past, a distant memory, a fading dream.

Except he’s stood right in front of you.

He's staring at you with a look in his eyes you can’t quite place. You’ve never seen it before.

"I didn't think you'd come," you whisper, begging yourself to pull away from his embrace. He doesn't let you go far, keeping his arms around your back as if he's worried you'll bolt at any given moment.

"And miss my best friends engagement party? Never."

"Best friends. We're not five anymore, Steve."

You roll your eyes, punching his arm lightly.

"What, I can't call you my best friend anymore?"

He picks you up, spinning you across the gravel of the parking lot. You're dizzy with it, the world passing by you in streaks of shapes and colours.

"Steve!"

"What?" he laughs. "You don't like this, best friend? What's the problem, best friend? Are you dizzy, best friend?"

"Put me down!"

Steve throws you over his shoulder as you both spin, strong hands preventing you from falling.

"Put me down, Steve, please - okay, okay! You're my best friend! Call me best friend all you want, please!"

Steve's crying with laughter, out of breath and rosy cheeked. He places you back on the ground, smoothing your hair down with rough palms.

You inhale carefully, grabbing onto his biceps as an anchor as you gauge your bearings. You look up at him, and lose your breath all over again.

Chest heaving, tongue darting over his bottom lip, hair mussed but still perfectly styled. He looks a picture, an ancient painting, a statue carved from the finest marble.

"I never want you to stop calling me your best friend," you whisper, so quietly that the breeze takes it.

"Then I won't."

Your hand slips down Steve's arm and into his, fingers linking gently.

"I missed you."

"I missed you so much, Birdy. You have no idea."

The childhood nickname shoots a lightning bolt through your heart, shiver running up your back involuntarily.

The two of you would sit and watch cartoons for hours on the floor of Steve's living room, pressing your little heads together to see the TV better. He'd joke that you sounded like Tweety Bird, all sweet and lispy. The nickname was born that day, and stuck ever since.

"How was California?"

"So good. I'll tell you all about it later. How's your engagement party?"

"It's good."

You try to sound convincing but your voice cracks, giving you away instantly. Busted.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's a few people you know back there - from school, the neighbourhood, family. They'll all wanna see you."

"I'll socialise later. Wanna talk to you first."

The intensity in his voice makes you nervous. You realise you're still holding his hand, so you drop it, crossing your arms over your chest.

"You didn't RSVP."

"Didn't get your invite. Travelling."

"I called your mom. She said she'd tell you."

"She didn't."

"She told me she did."

The crickets continue to chirp, gentle breeze blowing your hair into your face. You look at Steve pointedly, unwilling to be the first to break.

"What are you doing here, Steve?"

"It's your engagement party."

"So you've said."

"I haven't seen you in months."

"I tried to call, but you stopped answering."

"Birdy-"

"I'm just saying, Steve. We haven't spoken in months, I feel like you've been point blank ignoring me, I've had to come to terms with the fact that you probably wouldn't be at this party or the wedding and then all of a sudden you just show up? Unannounced?"

"I know how this looks."

"Do you?"

You're not entirely sure where all of this anger has come from, but you can't seem to tamp it down. It's bubbling, simmering, threatening to spill over the surface dramatically any second.

"I wasn't sure I could do this. Any of it."

"Do what?"

"Stand by and watch you make a mistake."

You scoff, laughing at him in disbelief. He's never been one to sugarcoat things, and usually, it's one of your favourite things about him. But not today.

"Don't you fucking dare, Steve."

"Birdy, be real. The guy is a prick. And you want to marry him? You're a smart girl, the smartest person I know. You've got to see that none of this makes any sense."

"So you showed up here to yell at me? Criticise my life choices? Thanks, Steve. Thanks a million. Some best friend, huh?"

"I've done nothing but support you."

"You ran away! Across the country! How is that support?"

"Fine, maybe I can't support straight up stupidity!"

"Am I smart or am I stupid? Which one is it?"

Steve sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he watches you pace the gravel in front of him. You're vibrating with fury now. It's something he's seen before. Something he knows how to navigate better than anyone. He knows you. He knows you need an outlet here.

He also knows that you're never more hyperaware than when you're mad. So, he takes his opportunity.

"I came here to tell you not to marry him."

You stop dead in your tracks, shaking your head in denial.

"...Why, Steve? Why would you say that?"

"You know why."

"No."

You take a deep breath and will yourself not to cry. In the garden, you can hear people laughing, singing along to some 70s pop song you've never liked. You pray silently that no one comes looking for you.

You take a step closer to Steve, standing up straight.

"Say it."

He looks at you incredulously, shocked by your sudden defiance.

"Say it, Steve. If you came all this way to say it, then fucking say it."

Steve steps into you, closing down the space. You don't move, determined not to back down.

"You're going to hate me if I say it, Birdy."

"I don't give a fuck anymore. Say. It."

Steve runs his tongue over his bottom lip, never once breaking eye contact with you. The silence seems to stretch on infinitely, thick and blanketing like fresh snow falling.

"I'm in love with you."

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. You take a deep breath and try to stay on two feet, wobbling where you stand. Finally, you find your voice.

"Fuck you, Steve Harrington. Fuck. You."

He laughs, but there's no humour in it.

"Yeah."

"How dare you? How dare you come to my engagement party and start confessing your feelings? You could have told me anytime, but you chose today?"

He goes to interrupt but you hold a finger up, effectively shutting him up.

"How long, huh? How long have you been in love with me?"

Steve's trembling, chest stuttering with the force of his confession.

"For as long as I can remember."

You haven't looked away from him once. You're frozen in place, suspended in the moment.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now, Birdy?"

"Yeah, Steve, I am. Because I don't believe you. You're King Steve, ladies man, notorious player. You were never seen with the same girl twice in high school. Don't you remember? Sneaking into my room at night, whispering under my blankets about your latest hookup, telling me all the dirty details?"

"I remember," he whispers, voice laced with something like sadness. "Of course I remember."

"You don't get to tell me this now. It's not fair, Steve."

"Why not, huh?"

"Because I've always been in love with you! Always."

Steve stumbles backwards, dizzy and disorientated.

"No you haven't."

"You're gonna tell me how I feel now?" you laugh in disbelief. "I've always been in love with you. Everyone knows it. My parents, your parents, all of our friends... I think the goddamn mailman knew, Steve!"

"I didn't."

"Blissful ignorance," you chuckle humourlessly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I knew it wouldn't change anything."

Steve's eyes go wide as he keels over, as if the wind has been knocked out of him.

"Wouldn't change anything? Birdy, it... I-I can assure you it... It would have changed everything."

You both look at each other, breathless and riddled with confusion. There's something flowing through your veins, something unintelligible, something unrecognisable.

"Why would you do this today?" you choke out, sobs threatening to break free. "Of all the days, Steve."

"Because I'm going insane!" he yells, voice raising. "I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't function knowing that you're going to marry a man you don't love. It's ruining my life, Birdy!"

"You don't think it's ruining mine? Huh?"

You take a breath, very aware that if you shout anymore, multiple people are going to come running from the garden.

"This is selfish, Steve. And you're not selfish."

He looks down at you, bottom lip wobbling.

"I am when it comes to you. Always have been."

"You're breaking my fucking heart, baby."

You choke out the words before bursting into tears, sobs wracking your frame. Steve grabs your hand and guides you to the stone steps, sitting you down next to him. Against better judgment, he slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

He smells so familiar, so comforting, that it only makes you cry harder. You bury your face in his chest, fingers tangled into his dress shirt, holding on for dear life.

"I'm sorry," he's mumbling. "I'm so fucking sorry. I had to. I really had to."

"I know," you're muttering back. "I know you did. I know."

You lift your head to look at him only to find he's crying too, years of emotion dripping down his face. You wipe his tears with your thumbs, your heart shattering at the sight in front of you.

Steve's only made you cry once before. In ninth grade, you'd stupidly assumed that the two of you would go to the prom together. Steve had made a joking comment about always being your date, and you hadn't questioned it. Then, one Friday night, he'd snuck into your room to tell you excitedly that he'd asked Lizzy Buchanan to the dance, and she'd said yes. You'd burst into tears immediately, much to your teenage embarrassment, willing yourself to play your cards closer to your chest. Steve had crumbled instantly, crying because you were.

That's how it's always been. He cries, you cry. You cry, he cries. He's just not usually the cause of the tears.

"I'm sorry, Birdy," he chokes. "This was the only way."

"I know," you soothe, rubbing circles into his wet cheeks with your fingers. "I know. You're not the villain here, Steve. You never were."

His eyes are trained to yours, silent communication passing back and forth. The two of you have always had the ability to practically read each other's minds.

You're not sure who moves first - perhaps it's the universe, pulling you together by the strings woven into your chests - but suddenly your lips are melded together, moving as if it's the easiest thing in the world. Steve's clinging to you as if you're his life source, a man in the desert without water.

You tangle your fingers into his hair to tug him impossibly closer, eyes fluttering when he groans, deep and visceral. He spreads his legs and pulls you between them, both of you slotting together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Your tears are dancing onto each other's cheeks, mixing like rain water and gasoline.

Suddenly, you yank yourself from his grip, standing up and smoothing down your silky dress. Steve prepares himself for the yelling, the screaming, a slap that he most definitely deserves.

Instead, he's met with you, chest heaving, skin warm, eyes heavy. You're looking at him expectantly.

"Come with me," you croak, voice hoarse and untrustworthy.

You grab his hand and slink through the front door, up the grand staircase and into a room with a heavy oak door. He follows you obediently, confused but completely trusting.

It's your hotel room. A marriage suite. A spacious, windowed room, with makeup scattered across the vanity and suitcases half unpacked on the floor. The bed is still made, which makes Steve breathe a sigh of relief. He hasn't had you here. The room isn't marred.

The minute you shut the door you're back on Steve, shoving him up against the hard wood. He grabs handfuls of your ass and spins you around, backing you into the cold surface behind you for stability. He lifts you easily, wrapping your legs around his waist as he kisses you again.

Steve trails his lips down your neck as you rock your hips, desperate to find some friction. You whine gently, fingers tugging at his hair a little rougher than intended to get your message across.

"What do you need, honey?" he murmurs, afraid to disrupt the atmosphere.

"You."

Steve throws his head back as he groans, exposing his throat to you. You waste no time in nipping up the expanse of it, sinking your teeth in with no regard for the consequences. You're too far gone now, not worried about looking back.

Walking backwards, Steve tosses you onto the bed, chuckling when you almost bounce off of it. He unbuttons and strips his shirt, pulling his belt from the loops as he goes. You can only lie there and watch, wondering when your best friend became less of a boy and more of a man. He's all corded muscle and tanned skin, freckled and perfect.

Steve crawls between your legs, kissing you tenderly.

"Wanna take my time with you," he murmurs between kisses. "Can't right now. Will, though. Promise."

You feel as if there's electricity crackling across your skin, pulsing and alive. It's never felt like this with anyone. It never will again.

"Promise?"

You can't help the slight insecurity that colours your voice, young and unsure.

"I promise, Birdy. Cross my heart."

He takes your hand in his and places it over his chest, as if to solidify his point.

You nod and kiss him again, desperate to have every inch of his skin on yours.

Steve shimmies your underwear down your legs, tossing them behind him somewhere. Shucking his trousers off, he pushes your dress up and around your waist, groaning when he gets a good look at you.

"Prettiest girl in the world. He doesn't deserve you. Never did."

"And you do?"

"I'll spend every day for the rest of time proving that I do."

With that he's pushing into you, sliding home with one smooth thrust. Both of you gasp, grabbing onto the other person to use them as an anchor.

"Please, Steve," you're whispering. "Give me everything. I want it all."

"You've got no idea how long I've been waiting for this."

"I do," you laugh, "I do. Because I've been waiting just as long."

Steve chuckles and leans down to kiss you, slipping his tongue into your mouth to memorise the way you taste. There's remnants of champagne on your lips, along with the minty lip gloss you've loved for as long as he can remember.

He wastes no time setting a steady rhythm, thrusts deep and measured. You rake your nails down his back, clawing at this skin, praying silently that you leave your mark. Little do you know, you staked your claim on him a long, long time ago.

"S'good, Stevie," you whine. "Fuck, so good."

"Does he make you come? Does he even try?"

You shake your head frantically, closing your eyes when Steve laughs dryly.

"Didn't think so. He can't make you feel the way I can, baby. He'll never be able to."

His words are only pushing you closer and closer to the edge, red hot heat building at the pit of your stomach. Steve places one hand at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it causing your eyes to roll back.

Your sweat slicked skin is plastered to his, every inch of you pressed together. Steve leans down to rest his forehead against yours, panting into each other's mouths.

"I love you," he breathes, hips getting quicker. "I love you. Fuck, I love you."

"I love you," you sob, back arching as you find your release. Stars dance across your vision as you tighten around Steve, nails leaving crescent moons on the skin of his shoulders.

Steve's right there with you, back flexing and fingers leaving their prints on your hips as he groans. It's the prettiest sound you've ever heard. Your mind loops it for you, playing it on repeat as he collapses his weight on top of your body.

"I meant it," he mutters against your damp chest. "I do love you. Always have."

You kiss his forehead gently, smoothing the hair away from his face.

"I meant it too. I love you. You taught me what love was in the first place, Steve."

He leans up to press his lips to yours, tender and honey sweet.

You realise the gravity of the situation all of a sudden, your heart rate increasing in Steve's ear.

"Hey, hey. Birdy. Don't panic, okay? We'll figure this out."

You think for a moment, weighing up your options in your head. Unexpectedly, you're jumping out of bed, fixing your dress and slipping on your underwear and heels.

"What are you doing, babe?"

You adjust your hair and swipe your fingers under your eyes to salvage your makeup in the mirror, turning to face the man who's now dressing himself frantically.

"Have you had a drink tonight?"

"No, I drove here."

"Perfect."

You grab your purse and stand by the door, waiting for him to follow. When he looks at you in pure confusion, you chuckle.

"Let's run away."

"Birdy... what?"

"Steve. You heard me. Let's. Run. Away."

He scans your face for any sign of hesitation, but all he finds is love. Adoration. Assuredness. That's all the confirmation he needs.

He runs at you, picking you up and spinning you around. Grabbing his hand, the two of you sneak down the stairs, slipping out of the front door as quietly as possible.

You throw yourself into the front seat of his BMW, vibrating with adrenaline as Steve starts up the engine. It roars to life, and you're very aware that people are going to come looking for you.

But you don't care.

Steve links your fingers, resting your intertwined hands in his lap as he reverses. You go to look back towards the garden, but you stop yourself.

"Can't move forward if you're always looking back, right?"

Steve laughs, leaning over to kiss your warm cheek.

"Truer words have never been spoken, Birdy."

He brings the car to a stop before you begin down the winding driveway, looking at you carefully.

"You ready?"

You take a deep breath, grinning at him.

"I've been ready since we were five years old."

He smiles at you, bright and blinding, and there's no doubt in your mind that you've made the right choice.

Can't move forward if you keep looking back, after all.

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