#king steve harrington x toxic!fem!reader

[bvtbxtch]

Stephen | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

“You’re my object of affection, my drug of choice, my sick obsession.”

Summary: 5 years since graduation, 5 years since you ran your way through Hawkins High, leaving boys in your wake…. Except one. Steve Harrington, apparent untouchable due to his infatuation with Nancy Wheeler. What happens when you see a worn out, former heartthrob with his fizzled high school flame stuck to him? Unhappy, feeling unloved and in a bind, you thought Steve could be the conquest of the night… or so you thought.

Pairings: King!Steve (Kinda) x Toxic!Fem!Reader

Content warnings: smut, angst, fluff. Non canon au. Steve and Nancy are together from Steve’s senior year to the time of the story. Cheating (emotional and sexual), p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), Reader defs isn’t a girls girl but I couldn’t help it, alcohol consumption, one night stands, stealing, public sex. This is definitely 18+ MDNI!!!!!

WC:

A/N: Hi babies I have returned with something a little bit different from my little hiatus and am super excited to try something new! This fic is inspired by the song Stephen by Ke$sha! I hope you like it!! I love you all!

The pounding in your head mirrored that in your heart as you remembered the burn of alcohol down your throat from last night. Your makeup had been smudged off onto your pillow, some still remaining on your swollen, hungover face. The day after drinking anxiety had reared its head, but a wave of nerves hit you like a ton of bricks when a vision of you writing your phone number on Steve Harrington’s arm - more or less in front of his girlfriend - faded into view. 

You cupped your hands over your face and your shoulders shook. You couldn’t help but giggle at the picture of her porcelain face twisted into a bout of jealous rage. You could fully admit to yourself that you lived on the side of delusion, but there was a piece of you that wholeheartedly believed that your former king of Hawkins High would call you. 

And yet, you sat and stared at the phone perched silently on your nightstand while you nursed your hangover all day. The bright afternoon light evolved into an evening glow and still you hadn’t heard the shrill ring. You put on records and VCRs. You flicked through magazines and tried to pick up the new Danielle Steele book you had pocketed from the bookstore on main street. But the soundtrack of your thoughts was the hope that the telephone would ring and that you would hear a smooth baritone voice calling you. You fought to keep your eyes open while the blue light of your TV laughed back at you. You finally surrendered to the sleep your body had been pleading for, the blur of the night previous finally making itself clear in your dreams…

-

The music at the dive bar had been blaring. You were on your upteenth drink courtesy of Eddie Munson. The first time you had come to the Hideout it was your senior year, freshly 18 and ready for an adventure. You had snuck in with a fake ID and eyed up the curly haired 21 year old behind the bar. His eyes had been glued on you since you had walked in. Well, you worked your charm and lo and behold, Eddie had you bent over the chipped porcelain sink in the staff bathroom. After the orgasm you gave him, he knew he would owe you for a while - and free drinks you received ever since. You flashed him a wink as you downed the third tequila shot of the night. Your plump glossed lips twisted into a smile after looking at the winces of Heather and Chrissy. The three of you had moved a half an hour outside of Hawkins to the bigg(er) city of Indianapolis, but you felt the need to parade your luxurious city life to the hasbeen jocks of Hawkins High that frequent the only legit bar in town. You couldn't count on both hands the number of guys you had toyed with that now loitered around the musty pool tables and bar tops. By the time you graduated and got a job, you thought of yourself as a big fish in a small pond. You were ready to break big city hearts and leave the lame Hawkins lifers behind. That couldn’t be you. But there was always one that got away - one that you hated to admit was one guy that scared you, solely because you would let him domesticate you if he asked. 

The girls beside you let out a small woo as another shot was sent your way, this time courtesy of Jason Carver who had fastened himself a seat on the other side of the bar with yet another Hawkins Hasbeen, Andy Robinson. You raised the small glass to your lips with a devilish smile across the bar. Jason still had his abs like he did when you graduated. Owning the small weightlifting gym on the outskirts of town had its perks, you guess. You looked at Chrissy and rolled your eyes with a snicker as the burning liquid slid down your throat. At least if you didn’t get lucky with someone else tonight, he would be there and more than willing to give you a half assed orgasm in the back seat of his beat up jeep cherokee - better than ending the night alone in your books (and probably his). You scrunched your eyes closed and a flash of stars lit up the darkness behind your eyes. You opened them to blurry vision, the feelings in your fingers were being replaced with warm fuzz. You knew that if you were to get off your barstool your knees would raise hell. You let out a euphoric giggle. This is just what you needed.

You heard a small “well, well, well,” slur out of Heather’s bowed lips as two new figures emerged through the metallic doors of the bar. “Surprised to see Harrington out here. Isn’t his past his bedtime? You know I remember…” Heather’s voice faded away as you honed in your focus to the pair at the door.

Nancy Wheeler - her obnoxious perm and housewife dresses… You couldn’t help but hate her. She was everything you weren’t: safe, boring, square. Her manicured hand rested in a much larger hand, and that hand was attached to toned arms in a light cotton crewneck. You couldn’t help but feel the saliva pool in your mouth. Nancy looked up to her beautiful brunette with her stupid doe eyes and he flashed her a small cautious smile. They stuck out like sore thumbs. She didn’t belong here, but Steve Harrington was too good looking to be in this shitty bar. It’s like your friends could read your mind. Chrissy pinched you in the side and Heather let out a childish giggle.

“Don’t even think about it, Y/L/N. Nancy’s had him on lock since, like, junior year.” You were well aware. 

“Don’t even worry about it. I’ll be smart…” You challenged. Your friends were very aware of your determination. If you wanted something, you got it. And Steve Harrington was on the menu. You watched the handsome couple stalk to one of the tall bar tables across the room from your seats. Steve’s eyes locked with yours and you licked your lips. No matter how hard he tried, like a magnet, your gaze kept him locked on you. The man felt a tug on his arm as Nancy shuffled him to the table. As their conversation lulled on, you couldn’t help but attract Steve’s eyes again. You waved your arm to Eddie for another shot.

“I think it’s time to have some water, doll” the mophead behind cooed. For the first time tonight you ruffled through your purse to find a folded 20 dollar bill. You placed it in the hem of your bustier and flashed your sultry eyes at Eddie.

“You want a tip or not, Munson? I think I have already shown you how much I appreciate your customer service.” The man’s cheeks grew flushed as he grabbed the bill out of your chest with nimble fingers - hoping that his hands didn’t slip. Another tiny glass full of liquid in front of you. Before you put it to your mouth, you raised your eyes to Steve, his mouth slightly agape, having seen the performance you had just put on at the bar. You raised the shot glass to him in salute, he blushed and turned his eyes back to his girlfriend. God, his fucking girlfriend. 

He watched your neck tilt back as the burning liquid slid down your throat. He had to stifle a small chuckle at your scrunched face at the reaction to your shot. Steve always thought you were effortlessly beautiful. But you were dangerous. A junior when he was a senior, he knew about the boys you had left in your wake. He made sure to stay away, betrothed to the girl sitting across from him at the bar. He sighed a choked breath of relief when Nancy coldly told him she was going to the bathroom then to get them some drinks. He let his shoulders shrug and rearranged his pants, which were a bit tighter than when he walked in. He wasn’t left in his silence for long. His shoulders shifted back up to his ears and his cheeks grew hot when he saw you saunter from the bar in his direction. His heart was in his throat and beating harder than ever. What the fuck was happening to him?

Your moment to strike happened when you saw Nancy’s pleated dress slither out of her barstool and towards the bathroom. You mirrored her and pushed your wobbling legs one in front of the other. You carried two glasses of brown liquor with you. Your face was calm and cool, but your hands were shaking as you crossed the dingy hardwood over to a beautiful head of hair. 

“So, what is King Steve doing in a place like this?” You didn’t dare take Nancy Wheeler’s spot. You wouldn’t want to be compared to the likes. You leaned your torso over the table, edging closer to the man than you would be on a stool. You preferred it that way, and you had a sense that Steve does as well.

“I could ask the same thing to you, Y/N.” He mumbled, but you can tell his confidence was growing.  “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“Who told you I’m a nice girl?” You purred. “You looked thirsty over here, and I thought, since you’re in my domain, I could show you some hospitality.” You slid the drink over to him with a black painted fingernail and picked yours up and stirred it suggestively. 

“Bottoms up then.” Steve grabbed the glass and clinked it to yours. Your heart stopped as you watched the beautiful man’s neck strain upwards to take his drink in one gulp. It took all of the drunken strength you could muster to not sink your teeth into his strong neck. His Adams apple bobbed in strain and the liquor made his cheeks bloom a darker red than they already were. You sipped half of your drink, desperate to relieve some of the tension running through your body, but you felt like you would completely crumble if you downed it all in one go.

“So.. you and Nancy… That’s pretty… serious?” You couldn’t help the venom that seethed out of your lips. Steve cleared his throat and stared into the bottom of his empty glass. He shrugged his shoulders. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Trouble in paradise, King Steve?” you jest. 

“Nah, It’s just… it's been a few years I guess.” Steve’s voice was cold. You sighed audibly. The alcohol and the pure lust was getting to you, and you could barely contain yourself.

“Too bad… the word on the street is I could treat you much better.” You could barely bring yourself to look into his eyes, but when you did, you were met with an intense stare. You couldn’t read all of the emotions behind his eyes, but it made your core quiver. 

“Word on the street is you know how to treat a lot of people.” Steve scoffed. His defenses were up. Why in the world were you coming to him now? He had always stolen looks at you. He knew how magnetic you were. He wished he knew you in high school. Maybe then he wouldn’t be stuck working at his dad’s law firm. With a girlfriend who he felt stuck with; no sense of adventure, no true love in sight. But then you sauntered up to him and made his heart believe in life again.

“Well you aren’t wrong. But I only have eyes for one right now.” You winked. 

“Wish we could have had this conversation three years ago…” Steve whispered, hoping that you didn’t hear him. You were delectable, and laid out in front of him; and he knows that if he were to have a few more drinks, he would have forgotten all about the girl that he had come here with - his… girlfriend. Fuck, his girlfriend. You flashed him a pout and a disappointed smile. You had him eating right out of your hand. 

“Well… Let me give you this.” You pulled out a sharpie from your purse and pulled his wrist towards you, pulling up his sweater sleeve. You began to scribble your phone number onto his olive skin. You had to breathe slowly to keep yourself from shaking. “Call me tomorrow if you want to pretend it was three years ago.” A look of need flashed on your face. You had been absorbed by Steve Harrington. It had felt like all of the bar had disappeared and it was just the two of you. Steve could feel that too, he had you right where he wanted you, totally absorbed and infatuated. You couldn’t help but think of Nancy and it made you shiver. You couldn’t have her invade this. Fuck his stupid girlfriend. You were determined to make Steve Harrington yours. 

The two of you stayed transfixed on each other for a moment more. Steve fixed his gaze between your face and the new ink that you had given him. He wanted to nurture it like it was a real tattoo. You couldn’t help but take mental pictures of Steve’s face, so you could imagine whatever meathead you ended up taking home that night was him. You wondered what he would look like underneath you, gasping and panting for breath. What his skin would taste like: sweaty and sweet and musky. You wished that you could take his fingers and put them in your mouth right now. You were thirsty, parched for his lips on yours. You wanted to show him what you looked like underneath him, you wanted him to hear you moan his name. You wanted to fuck his brains out, the way you knew Nancy “White Bread” Wheeler doesn’t. You were connected, and it scared you because for the first time in forever, you wanted to fuck, but you also wanted him to hold you, to tell you that you’re beautiful. You wanted him to hold your hand and buy you flowers and take you out. You wanted to cook for him and play with his hair and rub his back. 

You were torn from your world when you heard a small ‘ahem’ from behind you. Steve quickly adjusted his posture and pulled his sweater sleeve over his new love mark. You stood up straight and turned to see the frizzy haired brunette tapping her pleather pumps at you… tacky, you thought. 

“Can I help you with something?” She peeped. “Or is there another reason why you’re over here talking to my boyfriend?” Nancy’s angry eyes flicked between the two of you and her brow was furrowed. Your gaze had hardened and you couldn’t help but chuckle; she looked like a toddler and an old woman at the same time. Steve’s cheeks remained a rosy pink. He had found whatever was on the floor oddly interesting. You took a step towards the girl.

“Nothing at all, darling. Just thought I would say hello to an old friend and grab him a drink.” You breezed past her, knocking her lightly on the shoulder. 

“See you around, Harrington.” You sang behind you. You couldn’t see her anymore, but you assumed that if looks could kill, you would be on the floor. You strutted back to Chrissy and Heather and slumped back to your stool. You exchanged mischievous glances with the girls, and then turned proudly to Eddie, who was flashing you a disappointed look. A victory for you, a loss for Nancy Wheeler - or at least you hoped.

Steve continued to stare at the ground while Nancy eyed him suspiciously. 

“What the hell did she want, Steve?” she pried. Steve huffed before looking up at her. Her eyes didn’t glimmer at him like yours did. 

“She just came over to say hi…. I hadn’t seen her since Senior year.” 

“Did you even talk to her senior year? You know the reputation she has…I don’t like her, and I don’t like her talking to you, Steve,” within the past year, he had thought of Nancy more like his mother than his girlfriend. He had been growing more and more confused lately. The love seemed to be lacking and he had caught himself wondering what his life would be like if he left it all behind, left her behind and started over. You made the idea of abandonment way more appealing. He felt himself growing unreasonably angry with the blue eyed girl sitting across the bar from her. He needed to defend you. You were the only thing on his mind.

“Who the hell cares, Nancy? What do you think that she was going to do? Fucking make out with me in front of everyone? She asked how we were doing. She asked about you and me. Chill out and have fun or let’s just get out of here.” He scowled. Nancy was taken aback and slid a chilled PBR across the table to Steve with a scoff. She drank her vodka cran in silence. Steve couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to your figure laughing and smiling with your friends. He wanted to laugh with you. He downed his drink, took Nancy's hand silently and pulled her towards the door. She had a permanent frown on her face as Steve pushed her through the door. Before his body disappeared from the door, he took one more glimpse at you. Your eyes locked one last time and you sent him a wave as he disappeared into the Hawkins night. If he couldn’t have you, he’d fuck Nancy until he forgot about you. 

It was 3 am and your body literally couldn’t peel itself off of the plastic bar stool. Chrissy and Heather had gone home with Jason and Andy - your appetite spoiled when you watched the only person you wanted to be with leave the bar without you. You heard the stomps of old reeboks and the jingle of keys come up behind you. The lights had suddenly gone out.

“Come on, doll. Let’s get you home okay?” Eddie pulled you off the stool and wrapped your arm around his shoulder. 

“Can you stay over, Teddie?”

“Not this time, honey. You need sleep and you need water. You aren’t thinking straight.”

You pouted quietly, but you decided to finally take no for an answer. The thought of sinking into your bed and hoping - praying - that Steve would call you.

Steve had pulled Nancy into his bedroom of his parents’ empty house. He feverishly pulled at Nancy’s belt as she fumbled with the zipper at the side of her dress. Steve’s mouth didn’t leave her skin, and his eyes remained shut, save to navigate himself around his house. A flurry of clothes, soft sighs and sweaty skin. Steve had only had two drinks, but he felt drunk thinking of your encounter at the bar. He pressed his eyes closed as he mouthed at Nancy’s chest, wishing it was yours. He slid down her torso pondering what sounds you would make if he was kissing towards your sweet center. He pulled Nancy’s panties to the side and swiped his tongue along her heat, thinking about how delicious you would taste. He then flipped Nancy over on all fours and slid into her with a grunt. He couldn’t stand to look at her, wishing her body was yours, wishing her sounds were yours, wanting to hold you in his arms after. Steve finished quickly, his perversions towards you spurring him on. 

The couple collapsed into Steve’s king bed. Nancy traced small circles on his chest while they caught their breath. Steve felt satiated, his hunger for you ebbed, for now. 

“Steve! What’s on your arm?” Nancy yelped. Steve’s heart dropped into his chest. He frantically turned himself away from his girlfriend. Nancy’s small hands grabbed Steve’s shoulder to turn him back to her. Her nails drug down to the tattoo you had given her boyfriend and her face began to heat up.

“What the fuck is this, Steve?”

-

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[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART II

ALRIGHT, SECOND PART IS OUT. NOT WAITING. hope u like :)

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader || enemies to lovers trope.

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

This isn't your first time meeting Steve Harrington.

You know him. And he knows you. Well, maybe. Who knows. You both run in completely different circles in high school.

While there's some very obvious tension amongst the love triangle (Nancy-Steve-Jonathan) you take a second to look over at the group of kids behind King Steve. There's a curly-haired kid wearing a cap, another kid sporting a bandana, and a redheaded girl. They give you sort of awkward waves, which you return with a tight-lipped grin.

"Sorry," Jonathan's suddenly saying. "Uh, you guys, this is umm -"

"Bauman," you interject. "Just...call me Bauman."

Steve is now looking at you, realizing. Recognizing. "Hey," he says. "Wait, aren't you in Click's class?"

You press your lips into a thin line, trying not to be totally off-put by him. And in truth, you weren't really. Steve had seemed less... douchey, since he started dating Nancy. You were grateful for that. No matter how doomed their relationship was, it seemed to help him get rid of his trash friends. God, Tommy H. and Carol and that Nicole girl were just toxic.

"Yeah," you said, reaching out a hand. "Nice to officially meet you."

Steve shook your hand, a bit sheepish. And still distracted with the fact that his girlfriend had shown up with Byers. Why was she with Byers? You felt yourself internally cringing, seeing how oblivious yet aware he was. It actually made you feel bad.

"I'm Dustin!"

You suddenly looked in the direction of a toothy-grinned kid smiling at you, and you couldn't help but grin back. "Hey, Dustin."

Lucas and Max introduced themselves, too. But then, you all heard sound coming from off in the distance. The lab.

So yeah, things took a pretty sharp turn from there. It's all kind of a blur, if you're being honest. Everyone began talking over each other, eventually gathering info as to exactly who you are and why you were here (at least the general just of it). They learned about Murray Bauman, and Steve's face just became more perplexed, the more that Nancy and Jonathan revealed what they had learned...together.

...yikes.

But the kids were also asking you a million questions, very curious about you. Max found you funny, finding you to have more cool-girl energy than Nancy, who just seemed too polished for her to know how to communicate with her.

Eventually, Nancy noticed the power back on at the lab and you all took off in that direction. Steve was arguing a lot with the kid named Dustin. Very brotherly. Low-key motherly. The toll gate wouldn't open, then suddenly it did open, and then next thing you know a car is racing towards you from the lab and it's got Jim Hopper at the steering wheel? He's throwing the door open, demanding all of you to get in.

As you all drive, you end up near the front of the car, squished between Steve and Dustin.

"Bauman."

You look over at Jim, surprised. But he's looking at you in the rearview with all-knowing eyes. "You're Murray's niece."

You nod. "Yeah. Jim Hopper, right?"

Jim reaches back to pat your knee, eyes on the road and still shaken up from whatever the hell they just escaped. "M'sorry, kid. Your uncle's been getting shit from me. I know he sent you. M'really sorry. I'll make it right with him after all this, alright? Promise."

You just nod, knowing there's really no time for any of that right now. Since you got in the car, you haven't even had time to notice how there is a woman (clearly Joyce Byers) in pure distress, along with another kid in tow and the limp body of another child that she's holding. Jonathan is reaching for him, riddled with worry. Is that Will?

Once you all make it back to the Byers residence, it's tense. Really fucking tense. Jonathan is knelt in front of the couch, voicing his regrets out loud as he stares at his brother's limp form. Nancy stands behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder. You're on the opposite side of the room, leaned against the wall.

Which is why you notice that behind Hopper, who's yelling into the wall phone, Steve. He looks...devastated. Hurt. Heartbroken.

...fuck, he looks heartbroken.

He walks past you, pinching his nose and sniffing once. He looks like he's really fighting off some emotion, escaping to another room. It makes you think about everything that went down at your uncle's bunker, and how maybe it was funny there...but it isn't here. Not now, seeing that this guy actually has some intense feeling for Nancy Wheeler. Intense love for her. Real love.

...but Nancy doesn't feel that same intense love for him.

...oh god, that's messy.

But all hell is breaking loose before you can linger on that for much longer. Suddenly, you're all devising a plan. It has something to do with dungeons and dragons, and Will being possessed, and getting him in a room that whatever monster is inside of him won't recognize. The you're all deciphering Morse Code, and it's a whirlwind from there.

And then you're all holding weapons, bracing fore an attack...when some young girl walks in. Who you come to learn is the infamous Eleven. Her hair grew back, and she looks ready to join a punk band.

Pretty bitchin' look, you gotta admit.

The kids introduce her to you, and she gives you a shy smile. Then you're all splitting up into groups, and you catch a brief exchange between Nancy and Steve. He's saying something to her about going with Jonathan, and it makes you tense for Nancy. You can't even imagine how she must feel, knowing that he sees it.

And honestly, the way that Steve talks is...so not King Steve. It's uncharacteristically mature. Secure, and assuring. Not that of the teen heartthrob and bad boy you've been going to school with. And when Nancy does go off with Jonathan, you see Harrington's heart shatter into a million pieces with just the look in his eyes.

You feel bad. You suddenly feel really bad.

But also, he had to have seen this coming. Right? Jonathan Byers was a good, decent guy, who'd been there for Nancy all throughout the hell of last year. Steve had come around, finally. But by then, the trauma bond between Byers and Wheeler was irreversible. There's no changing that.

But damn, unrequited love sucks.

You knew was rejection felt like, and you wouldn't wish it on anyone. Not even your worst enemy.

Out of guilt, you make some conversation with Steve. Given it's just the two of you with the kids left at the house, needing to wait things out, you both easily make conversation. It's a bit awkward at first, but oddly it finds flow pretty easily. Steve's still got his charm, although it's a little more grounded than before. It isn't forced, or laced with popular-kid attitude. That's refreshing.

As you both end up listening to the kids like the only two parental figures around, then end up having to fight off that psycho new kid at school named Billy Hargrove (who's actually Max's stepbrother?!) and patch up Steve's very beaten and battered face which somehow still looks pretty, annnnd wind up in a tunnel full of creatures (demo dogs? is that what Dustin called them?), then somehow survive all of that shit... you and Steve become pretty bonded, pretty quickly.

And when the worst of it is seemingly over, you end up helping Eleven get ready for the Snowball -- dropping her off with Hopper. He's grateful for your help, and after making amends with your uncle you two have gotten to know each other well, too. He likes you, appreciating your mature sense of self.

Joyce adores you already, being the kind-natured and loving mama-bear that she is.

And El? Well, she loves you. You're like a cool older sister figure of sorts.

You and Steve run into each other when dropping off the kiddos at the Snowball, making conversation about how crazy everything was. You talk about other things, too. Just mundane things, bouncing off each other well. But when Steve notices Nancy inside, he gets that sad puppy-dog look in his eyes again. Then, Jonathan's coming out of the dance with a camera. He clearly was the designated photographer for the night.

And he clearly has captured Nancy Wheeler's heart.

One night, after Jonathan and Nancy have started going steady and you're all on summer break, you're all over at the Henderson's house watching the kids. The adults are there, too, since Mrs. Henderson is out working overnight. Murray is pouring up drinks for the adults and teens, much to Joyce's disapproval. But he just goes about his business, clinking glasses. Hopper honestly looks like he could really use a fucking drink. Or 5.

You, Steve, Nancy and Jonathan all toast, happily. Chatting. Laughing. Making light of things.

...but that ends up being pretty short-lived.

Before you know it, you're in the kitchen helping clean up while Joyce gets the kids in bed and Hopper is on the couch slurring with your uncle. Steve had offered to help you, but Dustin insisted that he come see something in his room before they all went to bed. Nancy has left with Mike and Max, while Lucas is staying the night.

Welp. Jonathan walks in, drunk, telling you thank you.

It's sloppy, and it would be funny except for the fact that he is talking so fucking loud. He's just thanking you, and then Murray, over and over -- "...for meddling with'm love life because now, I'm dating th'most beautifurrrl girl in Hawkins. N'if'it weren't for y'two...I'd still'b pining o'r h-her."

...annnnd then he’s blabbering on about how you let him and Nancy take the bed. “Well’lmost… ha, w-we ended urp…takin’th…couch. Whischhh…you tol’us you’w’d…toHaLLy tAkE’stead.” Then he’s snickering, drunkenly. “Cuz’you toooootally wanted us to doooo itttt. Schhhhhhayin that — m’not the safe one. That’m — I’m the one’th Nannnncy l-loves. Not…S-Steve…”

You just chuckle nervously, giving him a pat on the shoulder. And you just keep washing the dishes when he gives you a tight hug from behind, stumbling a bit and making you almost drop and break one of Mrs. Henderson's very cute plates.

Right on cue, Steve rounds the corner, having heard it.

All of it.

And now that Steve has gotten wind of the fact you played a huge role — along with Murray — on why Nancy left him, he is totally pissed.

In fact, he’s livid. 

"Steve," you try, but he just holds up a hand, staring daggers at you.

"Save it, Bauman," he grits. "Save. It."

It causes him to have the utmost disdain towards you, border lining hate. It just festers over time, getting worse.

Something about that makes your stomach flip inside out with a horrible, upset feeling. Your guts feel knotted up, and if the reality of things weren't so bleak, you would laugh at the fact that losing Steve Harrington's friendship (let alone trust) would upset you one day, let alone even happen. You feel bad. You really do. But God, as time goes on... his entire attitude about it is insufferable. He isn't letting up any time soon. Not when you both meet up with the kids (because regardless of the strain between you two, you're both the parents now). It feels like two divorced parents, meeting up to share custody of the chitlins.

The only relationship to which Steve is committed, is the one that he shares with Miss Hatred. And you're her bitch.

...guess there's still some King Steve in him after all.

You knew King Steve. He was an ass. So you know what? Suck it, Harrington. Karma’s a bitch.

As time passes, you begin firing back at him - tired of trying to explain yourself, apologize or play nice. Steve wants to fucking play? Alright then. Game on, Harrington.

There's a whole upside down universe threatening to take over still? All good. Let's still brawl, Harrington.

The kids keep bringing you both around each other, and you're also working at a place inside of the same damn mall as Steve is for the summer? AWESOME.

LET'S GET READY TO FUCKIN RUMBLE.

So yeah, you’re totally involved in the whole mall ordeal with the Russians, bonding you to Steve and Robin, along with Dustin and Erica.

But despite that, Steve still resents you. So there is still rivalry between the two of you.  Hot and bothered. 

That said, despite his pure disdain towards you...it doesn't change the fact that you actually do begin to see him for the much better human that he is becoming. King Steve has fallen. No doubt. You see that. The way that he loves and cares the kids, especially Dustin. And the way that Steve reacts whenever Robin comes out to you both? He's an angel. Hell, he even fought the soldiers off of you whenever they decided to make you their torture-chamber play-thing. He definitely got mad at them for that one, but he also got mad at you for not going with Dustin and Erica before all of that went down. You both nearly strangled each other when attempting to hold the door shut, yelling at each other to run. Robin had finally joined you both, but still - neither of you budged.

Steve was a good guy. A nice guy, even. Just not to you, unless the moment called for him to be. Which was fine.

…but he’s still annoying. And apparently, he can hold a fucking grudge like no other. He’s a world class champ at that, come to find out. Gold star.

You're onboarded to help Hopper, Murray and Joyce with shutting the gate. It's a no-brainer. Steve looks a little miffed, seeing how the adults trust you like one of them rather than him. Even the way that Jonathan is so cool around you, and Nancy seems shy around you, it just...irks him.

When you manage to help Joyce close the gate, you witness the death of Hopper. And it kills you, along with your uncle. You ache for Joyce, unable to fathom how you'll have to bring it up to El.

But hey, you all manage to destroy the Mind Flayer. And when Billy is killed in the process, you tend to Max like a true older sister. She and Eleven have both come to look up to you as such, and Steve won't deny the fact that you're a saint with these kids. A real fucking saint. And if he's being honest...he's relieved to have a co-parenting partner.

But that is the extent of his gratitude towards you, which is strictly circumstantial. You make things convenient sometimes.

Hopper dying hits all of you hard. And you do everything that you can to help your uncle not drink himself to death. It's the only reason that you don't regularly visit the Wheelers in California. Your uncle is a wreck. Hopper was the only man who truly felt like a friend to your very lonely (by choice) Uncle Murray.

Steve does single you out to ask how you're doing, knowing that witnessing Hopper's death was tragic. But you just tell him that the real concern is your uncle and Joyce, insisting that you will get by. Steve seems hesitant at first, knowing that you're not fine. He might hate you, but he still cares about a party member who got put through hell.

"I'm alive, Steve. So I need to carry on. For everyone's sakes. I'll be alright."

As time goes on...

You and Steve give Robin very conflicting love advice, when it comes to her crush on Vikki.

"VIKKI LIKES BOOBIES."

"Christ, Steve," you're groaning in the backseat. "Stop being such a damn teenage boy."

"I'm almost 20, Bauman," he scowls at you in the rearview mirror.

You make a face, exaggerating feigned apology. "'Scuuuuuse me."

Man, he could not hate you more. Steve is sure of that. You are the worst. Why are you here. You are just the worst. Every time he looks at you, all he sees is Murray Bauman but as a much hotter 19-year-old girl with way more better comebacks and select timing.

AND NO, THAT IS NOT A COMPLIMENT.

!!!!!!!!

Next thing you know, Chrissy Cunningham has been found dead in a trailer that belongs to Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson. Who, according to Dustin, is not only still in high school — he’s also friends with them? Yikes. But Dustin swears that he’s not a murderer.

You choose to believe Dustin. Much to Steve’s chagrin. In his mind, any chance that you get to disagree with him, you will gladly fucking take it. He is really committed to you being his enemy.

And you know what? Fine. You can play. You've been playing.

Eventually, Nancy comes back into the picture.

And honestly? Watching her be all into Steve again? As if she isn't in a relationship with Jonathan still? That pisses you off.

Not because you’re jealous. No, no. Not that.

…yeah no, it’s not that.

Nah, it’s the way this girl just cannot for the life of her figure out what she is feeling. Dear lord, woman. Pick.

Eventually, you comment on this. But not until Eddie Munson is suddenly roped into y’all’s crew and you both strangely hit it off. You share the same taste in music. You both compare concert history, listing off you're favorites and randomly bursting into song. Very scream-o, metal music. Eddie thinks you're the shit, and you make him laugh a lot. He also makes you laugh a lot.

Steve hates that.  He really, really hates that.

But not because he is jealous. No, no. It’s not that.

…yeah, it’s definitely not that.

Nah, it’s the way you make friends with someone he isn't a fan of just to spite him. You know he doesn’t like Eddie. You know he feels replaced by Dustin for him. You’re doing this shit on purpose. He knows it. He just knows it.

Regardless, you both stand by each other throughout the whole Vecna ordeal. And Max?  She loves you. Trusts you. A lot. You also tell her not to give Steve so much shit. So he’ll give you that.

But that’s all he’s gonna give you. And even that has its limits.

Whenever you all find out that Max is cursed, the first person that Steve finds himself looking at is you. Because you're the co-parent. You've gotta help him know what to do. You feel the exact same way.

You both witness her possession in he graveyard. You both help calm the kids down, and each other. Whenever Max writes letters to each of you, she looks at both you and Steve for a long time. A really long time. It's very uncomfortable.

...then she's finally handing you both a letter, and the look she shoots you both afterwards in really unsettling. Like she knows something.

But what the hell is there to know? That you both can't stand each other? NEWSFLASH: EVERYBODY KNOWS THAT. So joke's on them.

...not Max though. She's in trouble. So she's allowed to know whatever the hell...that she...knows...?

You and Steve both profusely disagree with everyone about the idea of Max becoming the bait. In fact, it's the first time that you both are defending each other to everyone else. Whenever Max argues Steve, you tell her to listen.

"Steve has every right to be worried right now. We all do, Max."

She sighs, knowing that you're right.

And whenever Dustin tries to get quippy with you about stuff, Steve shuts him down real fast.

"Hey. Not cool. Bauman's in the right, check yourself."

Dustin also sighs, knowing that he's right.

Because you both know these kids better than anyone. You helped Mike ease up on Hopper, becoming that one older-sister figure he can actually go to and be normal around. Hell, he even hugs you. Mike never hugs anyone, except El. And Lucas? You and Steve are at every single one of his games, like proud parents. Will calls you whenever he wants to paint, knowing that you enjoy art. You've spent many nights painting with him, and even Steve will join with the other kids. They mostly just finger paint and bicker, but it's still lovely in its own sort of way. And then there's Dustin. The golden child, who both of you wanna hug and strangle at the same time. He is forever putting the two of you in close proximity, secretly loving the tension between the two of you. He figures that it's just because you both wanna be the favorite parent, and Dustin is too fixated on why Steve hasn't started dating Robin to even remotely suspect that you two could be an item.

There's a plan in motion now. It's in full swing, all groups peeling off. There's a new species added to the fucked up realm (the newly coined named for them is demo-bats) and you've somehow saved Steve's ass for the 3rd time. This guy seriously cannot catch a break.

But now, Eddie’s suddenly encouraging Steve to go after Nancy again. And damn, that bugs you.  It really motherfuckin’ gets under your skin. Because Eddie doesn’t know the full story about what went down between them. Not even close.

You can't help yourself. You tell Steve this, once Eddie walks up ahead. But of course, Steve is rebuking everything that you are saying.

And then he's telling you that Nancy is different, and -- “actually, things are better.” 

But you scoff at that, incredulously. And you're telling him to "wake up and realize that 1) she’s still with lover-boy Byers, and 2) you shouldn’t pine after someone who chose someone else over you."

You mean to say it kindly. Honestly, you try to.

But Steve doesn’t think so.  And he’s faster. He’s also cruel.

“Maybe that’s why you broke us up, huh?" Steve is firing back at you with all that he's got now. "Because you’re used to that. Being the second choice. Weren’t you Clark’s best friend? Didn’t he drag you along until he ended up picking Becky? Yeah. Thought I didn’t know that, right? Or how you hung out with some of the basketball guys and never once got asked out by any of them? God, it’s so obvious. Also, it’s pathetic. You clearly hate seeing anyone happy. So hey, guess what? You got your wish: successfully ruining someone else’s happiness. Bingo! Congratulations, you won.”

It hurts. It really does. It fucking hurts.

Still, you do try to reason with him. It’s a little harsh, you’ll admit it. You’re not exactly speaking to him sweetly. But you try.

“All my personal love life issues aside —" you start, bringing your voice down and speaking as level as possible. "...which honestly, I’ve never even had something worth labeling as love — Steve, YOU still deserve to —”

“To suffer,” he cuts you off. “Yeah. I know. And the fact you’ve not had love? That just further proves my point. You admit it and yet you’re still out to get me. Because you’re fucking miserable.”

Alright, you’ve had it.

“I’m miserable?” you ask, ready to fire back. “Steve. You’re the one letting your ex-girlfriend — who didn’t even properly dump you — toy with your brain again into actually thinking she’s gonna pick you this time. She doesn’t deserve that. And you certainly don’t deserve —”

“You deserve nothing.” Steve is seething. Then hissing at you, “You’re bullshit, Bauman. You and your whack job Uncle. You’re both bullshit.”

So you stop. You let it go.

You let Steve Harrington hate you and suffer his own misfortunes. And you pretend that what he said didn’t just shatter your soul into a million tiny pieces.  You nod at him, swallowing hard.

“My uncle is twice the man you’ll ever be. King Steve.”  

It’s a pathetic last attempt. And your voice feels small, tight. But standing up for your uncle is better than yourself at this point. You walk off, away from him.

And Steve doesn’t tell you to stop. He doesn’t tell you not to walk away. He lets you.

So he doesn’t see you cry alone inside of the upside down version of the Wheelers’ bathroom.  He doesn’t see your heart break in two, and he doesn’t see you bite back the sobs sinking your teeth into your palms.

[xhoneygirlxx]

One Of The Girls

Modern King!Steve x Fem Reader

summary: Steve only hits you up when it’s convenient for him and you’ll always answer because it feels nice to be what he wants, even if it’s just for a night.

warnings: fboy!Steve, modern au! circa 2018. reader and Steve are both in their early 20's. reader is given the nickname 'trouble'. ooc steve, he's a big meanie and pretty much a douche bag. angst. Minors DNI smut: unprotected p in v (wrap it up kiddos), fingering, oral receiving (m), daddy kink, swearing, slight dom/sub, cream pie, insinuations to reader being on birth control, possessive steve, toxic steve! hair pulling. Steve's job is mentioned briefly, I like to think that this version of him works for his dad landscaping, so that's what i put lmao. this is named after The Weeknd's song from the idol and I also use his song 'Try Me' in this, awe well. if i miss anything please let me know! also bad writing and grammar mistakes, not proofread.

a/n: hi my loves! i was inspired to write something based off of this blurb. again, smut is so not my strong suit so i beg that you be nice to me :) i also want to mention that when i was looking for pics for this fic, i couldn't find one picture that gave me fboy vibes bc joe keery is simply bf coded lmao. thank you all for interacting with my posts and just being so lovely to me! i appreciate you all and i hope you enjoy this <3

divider by: @saradika

You knew from the moment you met Steve Harrington it would be trouble, that he'd have you locked down for as long as he wanted. The pretty boy with the nice smile, who said all the right things and made all the right moves. You were a fool from the get go and he knew, he knew it the moment you let him hit that you were his.

Everyone knew about 'king Steve', the boy with the puppy dog eyes but a closet filled with so many skeletons that the door refused to shut. From what you heard he wasn't a relationship kind of guy, that he collected bodies like he was paid for it, and then went on his merry way no matter what carnage he left behind.

He was bad news and you swore you would stay away, not get swept up in the honey like vortex of his eyes, but when he said your name it sounded so right and who were you to refuse someone as tempting as him.

The name satan isn't far off for him, both so beautiful and angelic but rotten to the core, so evil that you often wonder if they were ever created with a soul.

As much as you wanted to let him go, block him out of your life completely, you simply couldn't. All your friends thought you were stupid for playing such a dangerous game but they didn't know him like you did. They didn't know how he actually took care of you when he was done abusing your poor hole, how he'd buy you little gifts simply because it reminded him of you, and they certainly didn't know the boy who would make you laugh so hard your ribs bruised.

At least that's what you tell yourself, how you sugar coat the simple fact that Steve Harrington treats you like trash because let's face it, he does. For every thing he does 'right' he does a million other things wrong. He goes weeks without texting you and the only time he does is when he's desperate. He only takes you to secluded spots just so he can get a nut. And most importantly, he tells you everything you want to hear so that you stay.

You were connected to Steve by a string, no matter how far you pulled away he would pull you right back in. If you were a masochist then he was a sadist and you would take whatever torture he gave you with the biggest smile on your face because at the end of the day you were his and only his.

It's a Friday night and while you'd usually be out with friends, you opted to stay in tonight, too tired from the work week to physically get out of bed.

Under the warmth of your comforter, you scroll through Instagram blindly liking different post on your timeline. The white numbers in the corner of your screen read a little bit past midnight and as badly as your eyes wanted to shut, your brain simply couldn't resist the glow of your screen.

A notification pops up at the top of your screen and your ready to fling it away to dismiss it when your heart rate picks up at the name.

IMessage:

Harrington 🙄

Your finger moves faster than the speed of lightning, hitting on the bubble to open the messaging app.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

It's a simple enough message but you sit and ponder how to respond. You don't want to come off too desperate but you also don't want to wait too long to respond knowing he has other options lined up. Without overthinking too much more, you move your thumbs across the keyboard and sending your message.

Harrington 🙄: wyd?

You: nm, why?

Waiting with bated breath, you watch the text bubble pop up to notify he's typing.

Harrington 🙄: wya? lemme scoop you

Bingo.

You: im at home. how long do i have before you get here?

Harrington 🙄: bet. gimme 15 mins.

Your heart shouldn't be beating as fast as it is and you shouldn't be hopping around with joy like Snow White when she's singing to the birds, but like always Steve says jump and you say how high.

It should make you sick how he hasn't texted you in two weeks, only now asking to come get you so he can fuck. It should make you sick when you put on your brand new panties, that you may or may not have bought for just him. It should make you sick when you spritz yourself in his favorite perfume, growing flustered at the memory of him complimenting you for it.

All of it should make you sick to your stomach but that's not a possibility when he chose you. He chose you to keep going back to, he chose you to continue seeing and not one and done your ass. A twisted part of your brain is so convinced that he has some sort of feelings for you, the way you do for him. It's like a kaleidoscope, no matter how you twist or turn it, the colors are always so beautiful.

And if everyone wanted to tell you any different, all you had to do was show them the sparkling diamond necklace that hung from your chest. A thoughtful gift from the man they all claimed didn't have any love in his heart, even though you and everyone else knew it was a way to show his claim on you.

The familiar sound of Steve's blacked out Jeep pulling in your drive way makes your heart jump with excitement. Wasting no time, you dash down the drive, not wanting to keep him waiting any longer.

Pulling the door open you're met with the all too familiar scent of him, Ralph Lauren Ultra Blue swirling in your nose and going straight to your head.

He looks so good in his grey joggers, hugging his thick thighs that he knows drive you crazy. The white Hanes tee he wears is crisp, like he ironed it before putting it on. The sleeves wrap about his toned chest oh so perfectly causing some of his wild chest hair to poke out. To add the icing on the cake he's wearing that gold chain, that damn gold chain you loved looking at when he had you on your back.

"Hey trouble." White teeth flash in the darkness of the car, like the moon that's hung in the sky.

"Hi Stevie," You internally cringe at how needy it sounds, "how was work?" He gives you a small chortle at your question, still smiling that damn smile that could cure deceases.

"It was fine, had to cut the college's lawns. Ya know, the fun stuff." You nod your head at his answer, too nervous to even give a spoken response.

"Anyway, I thought we could take a ride down to lover's." It's said like it wasn't common knowledge already. Giving him a small okay, he leans over and places a quick peck on your lips, before putting the car into drive.

The ride to lover's lake from your house was a short seven minute drive but for some reason it felt like the roads were getting longer and longer. You want to jump out of the car, bile rising in your throat knowing how this is going to end. The heartbreak, the sadness you were gonna feel the minute he pulls out was already hitting you and it hasn't even happened yet.

His radio plays at a louder volume, The Weeknd's 'Try Me' bumping through the speakers.

You're the best I ever had

Baby girl, remind me, mind me

Let me now if it's on

And you know where to find me, find me

Havin thoughts you never had, yeah

You want to roll your eyes at the words but then again maybe he put this on because this is how he felt about you. The logical part of your brain tells you to get real but when you feel the fuzziness in your cheeks, your logic is all but ignored.

Maybe this time will be different, you think.

When he pulls onto the dirt path, he pulls the car under the big oak tree he always does. You wonder if this is where he brings all of his hookups but decide to push that though in the back of your head, not wanting to ruin the night.

"I missed you, trouble." Steve leans his back on the driver side door, watching you with those eyes you feel for all those months ago.

"And I bet you say that to all your little girlfriends." You jest back, making him roll his eyes dramatically.

"You and I both know that's not true." The low husky tone in his voice makes the fact he didn't deny the accusation of having other girls around, go down that much sweeter.

"You're all talk Harrington," You say seductively, leaning over the center console, "Why don't you show me how much you missed me?"

Steve's smile is wicked, pulling the keys out of the ignition, pointing you to get into the back. When you're settled in, he maneuvers ungracefully over the center console, making both of you laugh.

Sitting his body in the middle seat, you swing your leg over his lap, immediately locking your lips with his. Steve's not as rough as he usually is, taking his time like he's trying to memorize the way your mouth felt and tasted.

When you try to speed it up, he wraps his hand in your hair, yanking you off of him.

"Slow and steady, baby. We have all the time in the world." With your hair wrapped around his fist and his hard cock digging into your thigh, his voice is all but calm and sweet.

Moving back in to meet his lips, you match his energy. Rolling your hips slowly, you relish in the way he groans into your mouth. When you drag your hips over his again, you shudder with the way his hard on catches on your throbbing clit. Wetness starts to fill your panties, tummy tightening with want.

Steve's hands move to your hips, guiding your movement. Spit soaked lips leave yours, moving along your jaw down to your neck. Leaning your head up to the roof of the car, he takes that as invitation to massacre the tender skin.

He sucks hard, right where your vein pumps frantically with lust, leaving another mark for you to carry around. One more tattoo right on your heart that beats for him.

Pulling away, a thick finger grabs onto the chain that hides under the collar of your sweatshirt. The small diamond glittering softly in the darkness of the night.

"Look at my baby, wearing her present so proudly. Isn't that right?" It's cocky and it should make you shiver with an ick but it doesn't. It only fuels your delusions.

You hum in response, too dumb off of his kiss to even open your mouth.

"Nuh uh, I asked you a question." Moving your sight down to him, he's already looking up at you. His lips are shining, cheeks puffed from the smile that glitters up at you.

"Yes, daddy." A deep growl comes from the back of his throat, a feral look painting over him.

You pretty much get whiplash from how fast he rips off your sweatshirt, revealing the pretty lace bra in the color he adores so much on you. His lips suck harshly on the skin of your chest, leaving reminds of him for only you to see.

"Can I suck you off, daddy?" It's breathy and so desperate leaving your mouth, all that talk about not wanting to look needy right out the window.

When his head moves away from the valley of your cupped breasts, he looks like a kid on Christmas. Eyes twinkling with excitement, like he's been waiting for all year round to hear those words.

"Don't need to beg me now, trouble. It's all yours." The smirk that paints Steve's lips is devilish and if you were in the right headspace you'd scoff at his condescending tone. But right now he was giving you exactly what you wanted and you weren't about to complain.

Clambering off of his lap, you move into the seat next to him, kneeling down. You could double as a dog who waits patiently for their owner to drop their treat, tail wagging and heavily panting.

Steve lifts his hips pushing down his joggers and underwear in one go, his heavy cock jumping up in excitement, bouncing off of his stomach.

The saliva in your mouth pools, almost escaping through your slightly parted lips. Your metaphorical dog bone waiting in front of you but you can't have it until he tells you to, so you wait for him to get get comfy again.

Looking over at you, he raises an eyebrow as if to say 'well?', and that's all you need to hear to move forward, making sure to arch your back when you do.

You decide to tease him a bit, kitten licking the head before sliding your tongue up the prominent vein that sat on the underside. The feeling of him shuttering spurs you one even more, bringing a hand up to his heavy ball sack and gently running a finger over it. You can feel your panties being drenched even more with wetness, just from the thought of how he tastes.

As weird as it might sound, you loved Steve's dick. It was a good seven inches, with the slightest curve that made him hit that special spot every time. He was thick too, so thick you that he always needed to prep you with his three of his fingers before hand.

Bringing your head back to the tip, you dripple spit onto it, smearing it with the precum that's already beaded out. Ever so slowly, you take your hand and begin you jerk him at the base of it. Looking up at him, you can see him eyes closed, brows furrowed together, as his chest moves rapidly up and down.

Deciding that you can't wait any further, you put him in your mouth and start bobbing up and down. Not even halfway down his shaft and you begin to gag around him. Using your hand to take whatever your mouth can't, you move faster. The raunchy sounds of you slurping him up fill the small space of the car.

When Steve jolts his hips forward you can't help but choke, throat closing around him, making him moan deeply.

"I know but you can take it, right?" You do your best to nod your head with him in your mouth. You look up at him with glassy eyes, drool coming out both sides of your mouth, and he chuckles at you.

"So fuckin' pretty." Steve says breathlessly and you beam at the praise, going back to taking him further in your mouth.

You push through the want to gag, putting more and more of him in your mouth. You want to prove something to him, prove that no one else can make him feel like this and it seems to be working when he whines so loud it rings in your ears.

Pulling your hand off of the base, you cup his balls in your hand, messaging the sack gently in your hair. The heavy weight of his hand lands on the top of your head, once again yanking you by the hair.

You whine at the loss of his heavy cock in his mouth, pouting childishly at him when your at eye level with him again. He's panting hard, cheeks fleshed pink, and his hair messy from him running his hand through it.

"It was so good, honey," he breathes, "but I really wanna finish inside of you."

The sentence makes your belly burn even harder than before. Trying to move around in the cramped backseat is challenging, both of you pausing to laugh when your pants get caught on your foot awkwardly.

Once your leggings and panties are discarded somewhere on the floor, Steve takes his time admiring you. His gaze burns you with every movement of his eyes. Here you are, clumsily sprawled out for him in the backseat of his beloved Jeep.

Bringing a hand to your thigh, he rubs it up and down the skin, causing the skin to raise in goosebumps every time his finger would catch on the lip of your heat.

You whimper at him, raising your hips trying to meet his touch where you need him most. Tisking down at you, he shakes his head.

"What's the magic word?" He teases and you pout even harder.

"Please, Stevie? Need you." You say wetly, the burn of tears coming back in your eyes. Steve leans over you, so close that if you brought your head up just an inch, your noses would touch.

"The right answer was, 'Steve is the coolest', but I'll let it slide since you sound so cute." He whispers to you, placing a quick kiss to the tip of your nose.

The tip of his finger runs along your slit and you mewl at the feeling.

"Do you always get this wet, trouble? Or is this just for him." The smile pulled on is one like the joker. Sick and twisted and yet all you see is an angel from above.

"S'for you. S'always for you, daddy." It comes out like a slur, so drunk off of one little touch.

"That's my girl." It's more like a whisper when it comes out of his mouth.

His finger diving into the sticky mess that's been made in between your legs. Swirling his finger around your hole, spreading the wetness up to your bundle of nerves, moving in slow figure eights around it.

Steve hasn't even put a finger inside you yet and the lewd squelching of your pussy can probably be heard for miles. The feeling of him putting more pressure on your clit makes you jolt with pleasure. When the first finger breaches your hole, your eyes close in euphoria.

Even with just one of his fingers inside of you, it feels way better than anything else. The thickness of it stretching you further than two of yours could.

Still using his thumb to circle your clit, he pushes another finger in. Starting off slow, he pumps both into you, curling them up in a 'come hither' motion.

You're high off of him, off of the way his hands feel, and how good he's making you feel. All of that waiting and wondering when he'd reach out to you paying off in this very moment.

"You can take another one, right? You gonna take three of daddy's fingers like the good girl you are?" His voice is intoxicating and you drink it right up.

You nod your head, babbling 'please daddy' and 'more, more, more". He's eating it right up, the way he's got you dumb and he hasn't even fucked you yet.

Without another word, another thick finger joins the other two. This time he decides to go faster, hitting that spot you struggle to reach on your own. With his thumb still swirling around and now three fingers deep, you can feel the tightness in your stomach building.

You can feel your slick dripping down your ass onto the leather seat beneath you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, legs pulling up from where he's sat between them, toes curling in a death grip.

"I'm gonna, fuck, I'm cumming," The sentence gets cut off with the air that's trapped in your throat.

His movements don't stop, guiding you through your orgasm. When the waves of your orgasm washes over you, your legs relax like they're filled with jelly, slobber running down the side of your face, and your chest moving unsteady as you try to catch your breath.

You hiss when he removes his hand from you, mourning the loss of feeling full. Moving his fingers to his lips, he sucks your juices off of them one at a time, releasing them with a pop when he's done.

Using his other hand, he brushes some of the hair that's sticking to your face with sweat behind your ear. Placing delicate kisses to your cheeks and forehead, he glances down at you. The harsh black that once enveloped his irises are now softened with a look that you have yet to decipher.

"You did such a good job for me, sweetheart." He coos at you, running his thumb along your jaw. "You okay? Need a break?"

"No, I'm okay Stevie." Your smile is nothing but pure happiness. Blame it on the after glow of your orgasm all you want, but the happiness is purely due to his attentiveness to you.

Placing one more kiss to your deprived lips, he moves his attention to his aching cock. Spitting into the palm of his hand, he jerks himself a few times before lining himself up to your entrance.

Pushing in gently, his tip breaches your hole and all the air is punched out of your lungs. Even with his prepping, you never seem ready for the real thing.

Going inch by inch, stopping every so often for you to catch your breath, he finally pushes all the way in. After waiting for the okay, he doesn't hesitate to pound into you.

You swear you can feel him in your stomach, reworking each and everyone of your organs, but you could careless when it feels this good. You want this feeling forever, the feeling of his weight on top of you, him spreading you out so well.

The gold chain that hangs from his freckled neck dangles in front of you, hypnotizing you with the way it moves back and forth. With all the strength you have, you watch him trying to remember how he looks when he's inside of you so when he ultimately ghosts you, you can close you eyes and imagine it.

Steve looks so beautiful like this, eyes closed tightly, browns pulling together, pink puffy lip tucked behind his straight teeth. You want to take a picture, hang it in a museum for all of the world to see, but this is for only you to see. Your own little memento for you to keep to yourself.

"Fuck you're so wet, hmph, and warm. Jesus" Steve grits out, bringing you back to reality.

Skin slapping off of skin echoes out, loud moans and groans making a lovely soundtrack just for you two.

"Shit, right there!" You cry out when his cock hits just perfectly on your cervix.

"Bullseye," He whispers to himself before ramming into you even harder than before.

Your mouth curls into an O shape, no words or sounds coming out. The feeling of your finger nails raking down his back backs him grunt loudly.

"You and this pussy are mine. Tell me you're mine." He demands but you can't do it, too overwhelmed with the way your stomach has started to tighten.

Because you don't answer right away, he snakes his hand down to your abused clit, circling it again causing you to jolt from overstimulation.

"Don't make me tell you again, trouble." He spits out.

"I'm yours Steve. S'yours." You shout, your orgasms approaching faster and faster.

"S'always gonna be mine, right? No one else?" He question and it sends your head reeling.

"Always yours, always fuck, yours." You're babbling now, tippy toeing on the brink of your release.

"Come on baby, cum for daddy. Cum on my cock." He pants, going faster and faster as he does.

Without argument, you're hurdled over the the edge, gushing and pulsing around Steve. He continues to fuck into you, chasing his own high now.

"Cum in me, daddy. Wanna feel it so bad." You coax, wanting to feel the warmth of his seed filling you up.

"I love how you feel, baby. You got, motherfuck, no idea." His strokes are starting to lose rhythm, sloppily moving as he continues.

"I love this pussy s'much. Fuckin' love yo-" Before he can finish his statement, he cums with a guttural moan.

Your mind goes blank, eyes snapping open with confusion. Was he about to say he loved you? Is that what he was going to say? Every single question runs through your mind while the boy in question is collapsed on top of you, breath choppy and erratic as he comes down.

After what feels like the world's longest minute, he removes himself off of you, pulling his dick out from your cunt. You whimper at the feeling, missing him even more than before.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls open the center consul and takes out a couple of napkins. Returning his attention to you, he wipes down the mess of you and his release off of you, causing you to shudder. He repeats 'sorry' over and over again as he does.

After that, he uses what's let to clean himself off before getting redressed. You move from your position on your back, sitting upright to ungracefully put your clothes back on. In the darkness of his car, you can't find the panties you were once wearing, deciding to forget about them and pull your leggings back on.

The blissful after glow that was once there is now demolished, a big elephant taking up most of the space now. When he moves back to the driver seat, you follow right behind him, planting yourself in the passenger.

Steve doesn't turn the car on just set, he just sits looking straight ahead through the clouded windshield to the darkness of the woods that sit in front of you. You want to say something, break up the awkwardness that sits between you two but you don't know what to even say.

It smells like sweat and sex, every window is fogged up with both of your hot breath, and the only sound that can be heard is the breaking of your heart.

You know he won't be back in two weeks, you know that his texts will stop rolling in, and that he'll eventually find someone to fill your spot. The bloodshed that's now left, of whatever this was, now fills the backseat of his car. A crime scene that will haunt him every time he looks in the rearview mirror, a murder by his own hands.

This cat and mouse game isn't fun anymore for Steve, not when he's lost at his own game. You're the cause of his demise, the girl that's broken through all his barriers.

Unbeknownst to you, you're all that Steve thinks about. Every morning, noon, and night, it's you that is on his mind. The months of seeing you, feeling you, the taste of you, were killing him softly. Steve didn't buy gifts for other girls, yeah he fucked around, but he never kept one around the way he did with you and he surely didn’t fuck them raw the way he does with you.

Steve was falling for you, opening himself up in such a vulnerable way that it scared him. He stopped the late night drive going nowhere, switching it to strictly going to lover's lake. The talks that he had with you, all the times you made each other laugh, were now replaced with short answers. Meeting up with you almost all the time now became once every couple of weeks.

You were the one thing, the one person Steve wanted and needed in his life but he couldn't give into it. He was a bad person, an asshole who turned good people into shells of themselves, and out of everyone he couldn't ruin you. He wouldn't ruin you.

Putting the keys into the ignition, he turns the car on, headlights illuminating the trees around you. Cracking the windows, he lets the cool air sweep the scent of you out of his car. Putting the car in drive, he presses down on the gas as hard as he can, taking off of in a flash.

The car ride home is silent, only the hum of his music can be heard with the whooshing of the wind. Anxiety fills your body, picking and pulling the skin around your nails with your teeth.

The loud ding of his phone rings out, a notification popping up on the Apple radio screen. Your heart cracking when you see it.

IMessage:

Jess💦: Still coming over?

Taking his phone out of the cupholder, his eyes are still trained on the road. As he pulls up to the red light, he types out something quickly and then puts it back down.

Another ding is heard and another notification pulls up on the larger screen.

IMessage:

Jess💦: See you soon daddy

Tears fall quietly from your eyes, your heart now completely shattered in the front seat of his car. You should've know, you did know and you still did it. You let your naïve heart believe that maybe you could change him, and you ended up looking like the idiot everyone said you were.

You can't even be mad because they were right, you were a goddamn idiot to think Steve Harrington loved you, let alone liked you enough to change.

More tears fall onto your cheeks, the burning feeling of a choked sob sits in the back of your throat. It feels like everything that could've went wrong, did just that.

The cold nip of the night air can't compete with the way your veins have frozen over and your heart slowly turning into a lump of coal. When he pulls in front of your house, he puts it in park and looks over at you.

“So,” he hesitates, “do you need money for a plan b?”

Your mouth hangs low in shock and he’s looking at you cluelessly. Scoffing at him you pull the handle to the door open.

“Don’t worry Harrington, I’m on birth control.” Putting a foot onto the ground, you got to get out, pausing turning your head back to him.

“Not like the world needs another you in it.”

Getting out of the car, you slam the door so hard you're surprised the glass doesn't shatter.

This was the end of whatever you and Steve were, him being the one to cut that pesky string that kept you close to him. Steve Harrington has changed you, a hateful person now replacing the sweet girl he loved so much.

The girl that Steve Harrington loves was now dead and Steve Harrington was now dead to you.

Thank you all for reading. The ending is rushed but we won't speak on that lmao. Love you all <3

_

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[decodedlvr]

smut-fluff-angst [MDNI]

Never did this before - virgin Eddie x virgin reader after weeks of flirting and crushing on each other, you finally pop a serious question into your bestfriend Eddie’s head, and he has a hard time providing you with an honest answer

How he fucks - experienced Eddie x perv reader

Subconsciously you’ve always been unaware of how obliviously perverted you are, and Eddie finally takes matters into his own hands

King Steve doesn’t exist - (steddie)

Steve Harringtons deepest secret gets revealed, but will the freak accept him? Will he runaway from him like everyone else? Does size really matter?

The band-aid to my wounds - Older!Eddie Munson x reader x Steve Harrington x Kurt Kunkle x reader

After stumbling into an old barn after being stranded by your freshly new ex boyfriend, you wake up strangely in a room..that isn't yours..

Headcanons/ blurbs

Ghost!Eddie

Eddie gets off watching you lick a lollipop

UPS!Driver Eddie

Eddie admiring ftm bf Steve

Physical therapist Eddie

(Joe Quinn headshot)

(Naughty Poetry for Joe)

GOth eddie moodboard

(Joes an ass man)

You’re a creep for Eddie too

Biker Eddie admiring his stripper gf

Forced to watch jealous Eddie jerk off

Eddie loves a fat 🐱

Toxic fuck boy Eddie

Virgin you needs Eddie NOW

Obsessed with Eddie’s BALLS

Struggling to get wet (steddie)

Mean Eddie still being nice with your TMJ

Pissing off dom/ switch Eddie

Eddie watching his black gf dance

Eddie loves Doja Cat

Eddie fucking you to Enter Sandman

Eddie watching his gf get off in her wheelchair

Eddie’s soft fem black gf

Gangster Eddie / pt 2

Eddie steals you in the night

Hippie Eddie moodboard

You and Eddie are big pervs

Eddie talking himself towards an orgasm

Eddie licking your cum

Gross virgin loser Eddie does porn pt 2 gross Eddie

(Steddie) helping chronically ill reader feel better

Older Eddie cumming struggles

Older Eddie loves all your holes

Hot and bothered by their black gf (steddie)

Street dancer Eddie

⤬ reblogs, comments & likes are appreciated ⤬

[olderjustneverwiser]

For the Hope of It All

Steve Harrington x fem reader. WC: 11K.

A story about old friends and a summer romance in Italy. Set roughly 10 years post season four (so mid-nineties? Yeah, let's go with that). Inspired by august by Taylor Swift and those Joe Keery Italy pictures.

Warnings: Smut, MDNI. Talks of death of a parent, discussions of leaving a toxic relationship (nothing is specified though). Not really a happy ending so if that's not your vibe consider this your warning.

The Playlist

June

Salt air, and the rust on your door

I never needed anything more

The day started as most of your off days did; with a steaming cup of coffee at your favorite little café down by the shore. You had found this gem just after moving to Italy, its gorgeous patio and delicious coffee had cemented itself as one of your most frequented spots in town. It had become somewhat of a custom over the past few years, to have your morning coffee with only the salt air and sea birds to keep you company.

It could be lonely at times, but it beat sipping mediocre coffee in an empty apartment.

May had just turned into June, though, so your part of the world was quickly becoming overrun with tourists on holiday, and it seemed like every single one had managed to find your favorite spot away from the tourist traps. The outdoor seating area had filled quickly given the nice weather, so it really came as no surprise when a voice broke you from your reverie, asking if they could take the empty seat across from you. What did surprise you was the voice that spoke. It was a voice you hadn't heard in nearly five years, since you left the backwater town you grew up in to get away from it all, from your fucking ex that drained the life out of you.

You almost didn't believe that you had heard it correctly, but you knew you did. You'd recognize that voice anywhere, even after all this time had passed. Once you turned your gaze away from the sea, what you knew to be true in your heart was confirmed.

The man was sun-kissed, with wild, windswept hair and a glittering smile that only widened when you turned to face him. Once he pulled his sunglasses away from his eyes and pushed them into his hair, you knew.

Steve fucking Harrington. 

Steve, once King Asshole Steve of Hawkins High, was in front of you, halfway around the world from Indiana. Steve, your good friend, confidante, partner-in-crime, first crush. Steve, who you left back in Hawkins, along with everyone else you cared about, because you just couldn't handle how suffocating the small town was or seeing him around town.

Steve fucking Harrington was standing right in front of you for the first time in years and you didn't know how to feel about that.

You almost had to laugh at the absolute absurdity of it all. Why the hell was he even in Italy? How, in all of the places in the world, had Steve managed to find you here? Was this planned, or a chance meeting? Pure happenstance, or fate? 

You had so many questions.

God, he was stunning. He still looked like the kind of men you'd read about in cheesy romance novels. Older, of course, and more filled out, but still looked like Steve. Soft, suave, too handsome for his own good. He looked golden, dangerous. 

He still looked like a heartbreaker.

His face morphed into something else once he noticed that it was you, a mix of surprise and pure elation as he whispered your name, seemingly to himself. Almost like he couldn't believe it either.

"In the flesh," you replied, a joking lilt in your voice because you just couldn't fucking believe this.

"Oh-oh my God!" His outburst seemed to bother the patrons around you, but neither of you really cared when you grabbed the hand he reached out to you, only to be pulled up into a crushing embrace. 

He smelled different than you remembered. A different cologne, more manly now, more comforting.

Dangerous.

Steve pulled away after a beat, but he didn't retreat completely. His hands moved from their spots around your frame only to land on your arms, like he didn't want to let you go yet.

For some reason, you didn't want him to let go either.

"What the hell are you doing here, Harrington?" 

Steve finally released you completely then, taking the seat across the tiny wooden table from the one you had occupied. You followed suit, allowing yourself to really look at him.

The years had been kind to him, that much was obvious. There were a few barely-there wrinkles around his eyes, a scar or beauty mark here and there that wasn't there before, but he still held the boyish charm he always had.

He still looked like your Steve. 

He seemed to realize that he'd yet to give an answer at the same time you did, so he just shook his head, ran his hands down his face like he couldn't believe this was happening, either.

"Sorry, I just- fuck. Can't believe I found you."

"Ah, so you were trying to find me," you said, taking a sip of your now lukewarm coffee to hide the smile that threatened to break.

Steve just shook his head, "I've actually been in Italy for a few weeks now, kinda a spur of the moment trip, y'know?"

You really didn't, but you supposed Harrington money could afford a month-long spontaneous vacation to Italy.

He continued on, "I started out in Rome and have just been kinda moving along. I knew you lived here, from your letters, so I wanted to come and see if I could find you. Turns out luck was on my side."

That explanation gave you even more questions than answers, but you let it rest for now.

"Well shit, Steve. I guess it was." You couldn't help but feel like this was meant to happen, somehow. Out of all of the little cafés and restaurants in this town, he'd turn up at the one you came to every weekend.

Definitely fate, or something like it.

"Why don't we talk about it over dinner tonight? Catch up on everything?" He asked, charm oozing out of every bit of him, and you wondered if this was how all of the girls felt when Steve Harrington asked them out. Pure butterflies and wildflowers in your chest, fluttering and blooming before you could blink. 

Something told you that letting Steve Harrington back into your life would be exhilarating, saccharine, all-encompassing. The summer would allow you to feel alive for the first time in years, while leaving you heartbroken at the inevitable end.

You should have heeded the warning signs; the small part of your brain telling you to stay friendly, but that was it. To not let him grow like ivy on your heart. To entertain him for a week or so then send him on his way because you had left your feelings for him back in Hawkins years ago, back before your heart got stolen away by someone else. You were fine, had been fine until he waltzed back into your life, looking like that and stirring up feelings that were long gone.

But if you were being honest with yourself, the thought of not being with Steve for as long as he'd stay hurt so much more than how it would feel when this would inevitably end in tears.

-

You took Steve to Ke Palle for dinner on that first night.

It quickly became one of your favorite restaurants ever since you moved, and Steve hadn’t been, so it was perfect. It was busy given that it was a Saturday evening, so you and Steve took your arancini to-go, got a bottle of wine at a shop across the way, and settled at a small table the two of you found near the water. The large red umbrella made the late afternoon sun just a little more bearable as the two of you ate, drank, and caught up on everything you had missed over the last few years. Once your bellies were full and the bottle of wine was near empty, you once again found yourself examining Steve in between conversations. 

It was odd, seeing him again. Sure, your friend group had exchanged a couple of pictures over the years but seeing him in person again was entirely different. He had matured since the last time you had been together. There was something in his eyes, a look that told you that he had grown up more than you knew. It told you that he definitely wasn't King Steve anymore; that he had seen shit, been through shit, and that he was a man now.

As the sun began to set around you, you noted the flecks of gold in his hair, the little highlights mixed in with the brown that you had never noticed before. You noticed that you missed seeing his eyes, given that they were currently shielded by his sunglasses, and you hated that you missed something like that. You definitely noticed how his arms filled out the navy tee he was wearing, how big his hands looked curling around his pack of cigarettes-

He cleared his throat and you turned away, embarrassed that he had caught you staring. But hell, how could you not, when he looked like that? The asshole smiled at you then, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking, when he pulled out a lone cigarette from the pack. "Want one?"

"Definitely not. You know how bad those things are for you, right?" You chastised.

"Still hate that I smoke, huh?"

"I'll always hate that you smoke, Steve. Keep it up and you'll fuck up that pretty face, and you know that's your best feature."

He just shook his head and chuckled, gave you a look that said, wanna bet? "Enough about my bad habits, tell me about life and all that."

You told Steve about your life; things that went farther than letters sent across an ocean could handle. You told him about the winery you worked at in town, about how stressful running the place could be, but you enjoyed it anyway. You talked about your favorite coworkers and about how the tourists got to be too much sometimes. Later on, after he indulged and bought another bottle of wine to share, you apologized for leaving Hawkins, that you hated to leave but you wanted more than Hawkins could ever offer, and that you just had to after finally mustering the courage and self-confidence to leave your ex. 

Steve asked if you were dating anyone. You tried not to read into it too much as you gave a definitive 'No'. It was impossible to tell if the flush on his cheeks was from the red wine he'd drunk or from your answer, but you hoped it was the latter.

"Enough about my nonexistent dating life," you said as you waved a rogue cloud of cigarette smoke away from your face, "Tell me about home, how's everyone?"

He shrugged noncommittally before answering. "Everything's good, Robin's good, Eddie's kid is hell on wheels, but she's awesome. Nancy is still livin’ it up in New York. Job is good, those little middle school fuckers drive me crazy, but I love them."

"Still teaching then?"

He nodded, "Yeah, still teaching the youth the joys of dodgeball and how to hold a baseball bat. Pay's not the best but, you know, it's fun. Rewarding, I guess." He was holding something back; even after being apart for so long you could tell there was something he wasn't telling you.

"Yeah, but you don't gotta worry about money, right? You're a Harrington."

The laugh that left him was devoid of humor. Instead, it held something like contempt. It almost sounded hollow. "Yeah, guess not. Especially now, since my dad left us a fortune." He sighed at the confused look on your face and continued on "My dad, uh, died back in April."

You felt your eyes widen in shock, you definitely did not expect that and you hated that you didn't know what to say, "Oh my God Steve, I'm so sorry. Why didn't you say anything?"

Steve just shrugged, "He was a dick."

"He was your dad, Steve."

"Yeah, and he didn't even like me," Steve said the words like they didn't phase him, and you wondered if they secretly did. "Anyway, I guess his life insurance had a pretty high payout. Left us with a pretty penny that my mom split with me. She sold the house in Loch Nora and left Hawkins. I had to get away from everything, so I took the rest of the school year off, and now I'm here with you. Seems like a perfect trade-off to me" He finished with a smirk.

"Steve…"

He took your hand in one of his then, dwarfing your own, "Hey, seriously, I'm fine. And if I'm ever not fine, you'll be the first person I tell, okay? I promise." His eyes were sincere, and suddenly you felt like you were eighteen again, Steve confiding in you that Nancy had dumped him and called him bullshit. You had missed the way the two of you had confided in each other back in Hawkins, but it was your fault that you hadn't had the chance to do that again, you figured. 

"Anyway," Steve leaned back, continuing like he hadn't just dropped that huge bomb on you, "I'm glad I found you. I missed you, y'know."

"Yeah, missed you too. This is nice."

"You look good, by the way. Polaroids don't do you justice." Your cheeks burned at his words. They sounded innocuous, innocent, but you could tell how he meant them by the way he looked at you when he leaned back in his chair, took another puff of a second cigarette he had pulled out of the pack.

Still, you gave a roll of your eyes, tried to pretend like his words didn't affect you at all. "Still a flirt, huh Harrington?"

"Hey, I'm just saying! The sea suits you, is all."

"Yeah, I suppose it does. Think it's done me some good over the years." You were quiet for a beat, just long enough to appreciate how the setting sun bathed Steve in its golden light. "You look good too, obviously."

Steve gave you some noise of acknowledgement, taking one last drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. "I think I've had enough sun for one day. You wanna get outta here?"

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

You felt like you were floating as you and Steve raced through the town to get to your apartment. It almost felt like a dream, the thought that something was about to happen. Neither of you had explicitly said that anything was happening once you got upstairs, but you could feel it. It was like an electric current in the air, something between your fingertips as he held your hand in his during the walk. Steve could feel it, too. You could tell by the way his eyes were a little wild the entire walk home, how tightly he held onto your hand.

You willed yourself to calm down as the two of you neared your building; your heart pounding against your rib cage. Part of you was nervous that you'd hyped this up so much in your head that the real thing would be a disappointment, but you knew that wouldn't be the case. No, you were scared that this would ruin you for anyone else.

Because this was Steve you were talking about. There was history here, secrets shared and experiences that had bonded you two for life, no matter how far apart you were. And the way Steve looked at you as you unlocked your front door and stepped into your living room, as if you were the only thing he wanted to see for the rest of his life, solidified the simple fact that you were going to be fucking ruined after this.

You didn't care.

He watched as you set your keys and bag down on the small table in your entryway before leaning back against your door, smoothing down the front of your sundress to calm your nerves because it had been so long since you had done this. Steve seemed to sense your nervousness by the way he leaned into you, softly, a finger tracing down your arm with just enough pressure for you to feel it. "You okay?"

"Yeah! Yeah, I'm great. Just been a while, that's all." If he noticed the goosebumps that erupted from his touch, he didn’t comment on it.

He nodded, his gaze softer now than it had been at dinner, "Yeah, been a while for me, too. Y'know we don't have to do anything, right? If it's too soon or whatever."

Maybe it was too soon, because while you and Steve had been friends for years, the two of you were so different than you were years ago. Different people at different stages in your lives. Different continents. Hell, you hadn’t even been in the same room as each other for half a decade. But you still knew Steve, still felt the same comfort and security you’d always felt with him. 

It might have been too soon, but in this moment, it felt like a long time coming. It felt like it was always going to happen, at some point. And there was nothing you wanted more.

"I know, but I want to. I really want to, if you do."

"Are you sure?" He whispered, his mouth now close enough to yours that you could smell the hints of smoke still on his breath and the spearmint gum he chewed on the way.

You wanted to reach out, to touch him, but all you could do was curl your hands into fists before flattening them out on the tops of your thighs again. Fingertips tingled, wanting to mirror the path he was making on your arm, trace the veins on his forearm. You held back, almost scared to pop this little bubble the two of you seemed to be in. You wanted to kiss him, really wanted to kiss him. It would be too easy to close the small gap that still lingered between you and finally find out what he tasted like, but you waited. It was torture, but you waited.

"Yeah, of course I'm sure. Are you?"

The nod of his head was earnest, his eyes refusing to leave yours as his fingers abandoned their path along your arm only to find purchase on your jaw, his thumb barely tugging on your bottom lip before finally pressing his lips to yours. 

It was a desperate sort of kiss, the kind that made your toes curl in your sandals and your hands wind in his hair, if only to pull him even closer. Steve pressed into you then, and the feeling of his weight against you had little moans leaving your mouth, which Steve took full advantage of, licking into your mouth when your lips parted.

You didn’t know why it felt so natural, kissing Steve, but it felt like both a first kiss, and a kiss that you had shared a thousand times. Somehow, it felt like this had to happen, because Steve had drawn you in and he was yours and you were so, so ready to fall. Face first, all in, into whatever this was, whatever this would turn out to be. Still, you tried your hardest to sear the feeling of him into your mind. How his kiss tasted, how he sounded, how it felt to have his body pressed against yours like this in case this one a one time thing.

You really, really hoped it wasn't a one time thing.

He let his hands wander, dropping them to squeeze at your waist, letting his mouth wander, too. He moved to your jaw, down to your throat and you felt him smile against your skin when you gasped.

You felt one hand snake down your dress to the side of your thigh, his hand spreading wide, ghosting a path beneath the hem until his fingertips found the edge of your underwear. You felt him shift against you, just slightly, only to continue his path to your front and press into you. It was pathetic, really, the noise that came out of you from just a simple touch.

“Like that, pretty?” Steve cooed, using the same finger to trace up and down over the thin fabric, “Saw you staring at my hands earlier. You wanted me to touch you like this, hmm?”

You tried to roll your eyes, but he pressed harder into you making you feel the wetness sticking to you and you could only close them, letting out a huff, "Are you always this annoying during foreplay?"

He just smirked, his fingers never stopping, "Only with you." He leaned in closer, leaving a peck just below your ear. "Besides, I think you like it." 

You did roll your eyes at that, taking hold of his forearm to stop him, tired of his teasing, "Steve, shut the hell up and take me to the bedroom."

The moment the two of you were in your bedroom, Steve had you pushed against the nearest bare wall he could find before kissing you again. His hands roamed your neck, your waist, the curve of your hip and you felt him everywhere. It was like a live wire running through you, from your lips, red and kiss bitten to the tips of your toes.

His hands found the hem of your sundress again, and he started to ask if he could take it off but you cut him off, answering with a breathless 'yes'. He backed up from you, just enough for you to loosen the zip on the side and let it fall to the floor around your feet. You felt warm under his gaze, him mapping out skin he hadn't seen. You felt too exposed, given that he was still fully dressed, but he was back on you in a second, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

"So fuckin' pretty," He praised, pulling your underwear to the side, let his fingers glide through your folds without the offending barrier before sinking one, then two fingers into you.

The smirk he was wearing quickly disappeared once your breaths turned to moans as his fingers worked you, in and out, long enough to hit that spot and have you feeling close to bursting. His jaw went slack, his cheeks a little flushed and he finally looked as affected as you. 

You scrambled for his shoulders for some sort of stability, nails pressing through his shirt when he crooked his fingers into you, making your breath hitch in your throat. 

"Fuck, that's it, huh? Feel good?"

You only nodded, already feeling dizzy. You let your head hit the wall as he worked you, eyes closing and getting lost in the feeling of him, here with you, against you. 

But you wanted more. You wanted him. 

“Steve, please,” you pleaded, your hands grazing down his abdomen until you reached his belt buckle. “Want you.”

His shirt was thrown near your bed post, his belt clinked as it hit the floor along with his pants, neither of you really caring where they landed. He was on you again, kissing you until you both crawled into bed, his mouth on your jaw, your collarbone until he reached the edge of your bra, mouthing at the fabric before unclasping it and throwing it to the floor. You were impatient, dragging your underwear down until you were fully bare and his lips parted; his eyes devouring you before reconnecting his mouth to yours.

After that, it didn’t take long for him to rid himself of his boxers, slip on a condom and push into you slowly. Teasing, controlled, trying to drag out the moment because you felt fucking fantastic around him. He stilled once he was buried inside you, interlacing your fingers with his and pressing your hands into the bed as you moaned into his neck. You clenched around him at the tender gesture, silently begging him to move by curling your legs around his waist. 

“Fuck, you feel - God - fucking amazing,” he grunted, eyes squeezed shut as he moved against you.

“Steve,” you keened, relishing in how he looked on top of you, blissed out and slick with sweat. How he felt against you, inside of you. How each drag of him made you feel that familiar hook in your belly, like a string pulled tight, stretched, close to snapping. A release building. 

“Yeah? You close?” he asked, fingertips digging into the softness of your hips and he'd sounded close himself. Your breath hitched, back arched prettily because he'd dropped his hand between you, thumb rubbing quick circles on your clit.

"Yeah, Steve yeahyeah," you twisted your fingers in his hair, hips lifting to meet his every thrust until you snapped, your orgasm ripping through you, making you tremble against him. It was enough to send him over his edge, his hips faltering as he came, his face buried in your neck to muffle his groan.

The night seemed quiet then, the sounds of skin on skin and dirty praise whispered between you gave way to your combined breaths, slowly evening out. The air smelled like sex and Steve; smoke and mint, a hint of the salty sea air. You felt calm, peaceful, so, so content with Steve next to you. 

And that was how your summer began.

-

You were vaguely aware of fingers tracing down the length of your back and the smell of fresh coffee invading your senses, but you were so warm and soft and relaxed and did not want to leave the dreamlike state you were currently in. But then you felt soft kisses to your shoulder, a murmur against your hair that made your eyes open to see Steve, mussed up hair and still shirtless from the night before, with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands.

He looked like a damn dream.

"Morning, sleepy. Coffee's on your nightstand, just a splash of cream and sugar, right?"

You nodded, finally making yourself sit up against your headboard and grab the mug from your bedside table, "How'd you remember that?"

Steve only shrugged, crossing the room to take his side of the bed again. You hadn't taken a look at your bedside clock yet but it had to be early morning, considering how the sunlight slipped through the open blinds. The light painted Steve's torso in bright stripes of light; his tan skin looking even more stunning in the sunshine. This whole scene felt almost too domestic. The two of you, drinking coffee in a comfortable silence, Steve leaning over ever so often to press a kiss to your shoulder, your cheek. 

It felt nice. It felt normal.

But you knew it couldn't last. You and Steve were friends, good friends, and he was just passing through, traveling through Italy to find himself, or whatever he was doing. The thought made you ache, but it was the reality. 

Clearing your throat, you started to ask the question, rip off the band-aid. "So, when do you think you'll move on from my part of the world?"

"Actually, I was thinking about sticking around for a while, if you'll have me." Steve said the words a little shyly and they lit a little spark of hope that bloomed in your chest. You knew it wouldn't be forever, that the end would come, but for now, you had him.

"I don't think I'd mind that at all, Harrington."

July 

The summer was a whirlwind, and you loved every second of it. 

Your back beneath the sun

Wishin' I could write my name on it

You still went to work everyday while Steve did his travels, sometimes taking day trips out of town for the day and then coming back to your apartment at night. He'd show you the photographs he'd taken, letting you pick one or two to keep for yourself. 

Sometimes he would join you when you went out with your friends. Your friends had promised to help you show Steve all of the best spots. The two of you would join them for drinks and dancing some nights, other nights opting to go on your own, then crawl home and end up back in your bed sheets before ending the night.

And then you'd do it all over again the next day. 

On the weekends, you'd let Steve pick a new city to see, and the two of you would spend a night or two. You had explored Cinque Terre, saw the canals in Venice (which Steve correctly decided were too touristy), and Steve even treated the two of you to a few days near Tuscany after you agreed to play hooky that following Monday. 

You felt like you were twenty again. Back in Hawkins, hanging with Steve and the gang. Swimming in the Harringtons’ pool, picnics at the lake, settling down with take-away pizza and a movie on quiet nights in. Weekend drives to Indy for rock shows that Eddie dragged you all to, stopping at the same all-night diner after for fries and milkshakes. It was familiar, it was lovely. 

Having one of your old friends back made you feel lighter. Besides the company and great sex, it was nice to just have someone from Hawkins here. Someone you grew up with, who knew you inside and out. Someone you felt comfortable with, someone you trusted with your life.

It made grueling work days a little easier, made coming home a little more fun but the days were slipping away too fast. July was ending, but it still felt like the beginning of June and Steve had just landed back into your life. It really was cruel, how quickly time starts to pass you by the older you grew. Especially when you didn’t want it to. When you needed it to slow down. 

You wondered if Steve felt the same. If the days he spent without you, doing whatever he was doing in whatever little towns he found, were ending too fast. Was he excited to go back to Hawkins, to his students and the friends you had left behind?

More importantly, when was he going back?

The two of you hadn’t talked about it; you didn’t have the time. You hadn't even talked about what the two of you were doing, as if kissing one of your best friends goodbye every morning and fucking them before bed was normal. In all honesty, you didn’t want to talk about it. Because talking about it would make it real, and you were perfectly happy with living in blissful ignorance for now. Seeing as July was coming to a close, the end would come soon enough, anyway.

-

Another work week had just ended for you, and since you had the next few days off, you and Steve were currently lazing on your couch, coming up with ideas for how to spend the weekend. 

The two of you bounced ideas back and forth to one another over a shared bottle of wine, none of them ever feeling quite exciting enough. Suddenly he looked at you, snapping his fingers like he had just thought of the perfect idea, “How about we rent a boat?” 

“Excuse me?” You couldn’t help the way your voice squeaked at that, because who just thinks to rent a fucking boat on a whim?

“Not like a big boat, just a boat. You know, take it out in the water, cool off in the sea. Any place we can rent a boat over here?���

You squinted at him across your sofa, “I forgot you know how to handle a boat. You really are the definition of a rich boy cliché, you know that?”

“Oh shut up,” he muttered, but the fondness in his eyes told you that he didn’t really mean it. “So, whaddya say?”

And that’s how the next morning found the two of you waking up with the sun, Steve cooking a light breakfast while you packed a cooler with sandwiches, fresh fruit, and a big canteen full of limoncello. You took a cab to the ritzy part of the town, the part with the towering, expensive resorts and private beaches. You’d figured it would be the perfect place to get what Steve was looking for, and it turns out that you were right.

It wasn’t a big boat, but definitely enough room for you and Steve. You watched from the docks as Steve spoke with the worker, noting that the little Italian you’d managed to teach him was coming out of his mouth with ease. You wondered how it felt to be such a natural at damn near everything, how Steve could just pick up anything and be a pro.

Soon, the boat was yours for the day and you and Steve were off, Steve quickly shedding the linen button down he’d put on due to the hot sun. You had to admit, this was lovely. The waters were calm, the sun warmed your skin and you got to watch Steve work, looking like a natural behind the controls (and if you had stolen the disposable camera out of his bag and snapped a few pictures of him, shirtless and a cigar hanging from his lips, well, that was your business). Briefly, you wondered where he was taking you, if he even knew himself, but you found that you really didn’t care. The waters were a beautiful, deep blue, all around you, surrounded by gorgeous coastlines and away from everything else. You let yourself lay back and relax, focusing on the sound of Steve humming some song he knew as you closed your eyes and let yourself drift. It could have been minutes, maybe an hour, but eventually you came to a secluded shoreline that was more rocks and cliffs than beach, and he was beginning the process of anchoring down.

“Pretty spot, huh?” He said through a grunt as he lowered the anchor down.

You nodded, “Yeah, how’d you know this was here?”

“Guy working the docks mentioned something about this. He said there probably wouldn’t be many people here but damn, it’s nice not having anyone here.” He looked around, hands on his hips in an approving stance before he turned to look back at you, “Wanna cool off?”

Once Steve confirmed that the boat was secured, you shed the tank and shorts you were using as a cover-up and jumped into the cool water, Steve quickly following suit. The cold was a shock to your heated skin, but you welcomed it, taking your time to float back to the surface. Once you reached the surface you wiped the water from your eyes to look for Steve, only to find him right behind you in the water, hair an absolute mess and a hand reaching out for you. You took it, allowing Steve to pull you to him until you were settled in his lap, both of his arms around your waist to keep you flush against him. 

Steve smiled at you then, squinting a little under the bright summer sun. "Hey, sweetheart." 

"Hi," You answered back, winding your arms around his neck before kissing him, just because you wanted to. Just because you could. 

His eyes were softer when you pulled back, his grip a little tighter as if he was scared you'd float away if he wasn't careful. But soon after you noticed it, it was gone, replaced with a look of mischief you remember all too well.

"Steve, what're you-" before you could finish your sentence he'd maneuvered your legs from around his waist, grabbing handfuls of your thighs and throwing you back under the water. 

You were met with the cackle of Steve's laugh once you fight your way out again, "Way to ruin the moment, jackass."

"We'll make more," he told you, still smiling and you couldn't help but smile with him, not even minding when he lunged for you and pulled you under again, you taking him under, too. 

The hours passed, and the splash fights under the hot sun made you both crave the lunch you packed sooner than later. You swam back near the shore together, Steve making his way back to the boat to grab the cooler while you headed to a large, flat rock that looked suitable for lounging near the water.

The two of you were quiet as you ate, side by side, thighs touching as he peeled your oranges for you and you split your sandwich with him. Nostalgia hit you like a freight train, and you remembered sitting on the edge of Lover’s Lake some time in your very late teens, you and Steve in this exact same position, eating Pringles and candy while you two talked about life and what the two of you wanted to be.

Part of you wondered, back then, if you and Steve would ever be something more. If you could ever stop being scared and tell him how you felt about him, if he would feel the same. But Steve still seemed hung up on Nancy and you were scared, because Steve was a good friend, and he was Steve and the thought of not having him in your life hurt. So, you stayed quiet, met your business professor in your second year at Hawkins Community College, and fell in love. 

Or maybe lust, or just some false sense of security. Because he was an older guy, stable and sophisticated. He called you pretty and made you feel good and safe, enough to give everything up and make him your world. What a colossal fucking mistake. 

Needless to say, you and Steve never became anything more until now. Now, sitting beside him on a beautiful cliff in Italy, you wondered if you could have been more. If you would have told him then, would he have surprised you, told you he felt the same and kissed you breathless?

Would everything be different today?

“How’d you decide on this place?” Steve asked you suddenly, effectively breaking you from the thoughts spiraling in your brain.

“You mean Italy?” When he nodded, you replied, “I knew I hated Hawkins and I hated seeing my fucking ex everywhere, so I needed to leave. We had talked about coming here, maybe for a honeymoon or something. I always thought the pictures looked so pretty, so I came. Leaving you guys was hard as fuck, though. The hardest thing I've ever done."

Steve looked at you then. Something in his gaze told you that he wanted to say something else, but he settled for, “I was proud of you for leaving, you know.”

“Oh yeah?”

“For sure. I mean, I’m still proud of you for getting out when you did. Wish you would have never even met that asshole, but y’know, I’m glad you did what you wanted to do. I’d say you picked a good place, though. I like it here. Can see why you love living here so much.”

There it was again, that little bit of hope that just kept growing and growing. The hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d get out of Hawkins, too. It was a pipe dream, you knew it, but that small fact didn’t squash whatever was blooming. But then:

"Even though I was also super bummed when you left. You know, I had a huge crush on you."

What?

"Wait, what?" You exclaimed, turning your body to face him because what a fucking bombshell.

He scratched the back of his neck, suddenly shy under your wide eyes. "Yeah, had a crush for a while, even when you were, uh, with that guy. Just never had the guts to tell you."

"Steve, I liked you too!" You whined, "I always thought you wanted Nancy! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" He countered, sounding flustered as ever. "I mean, I did still want Nancy, y'know, after we broke up, but that didn't really last long. Not after we started hanging more."

You groaned when you let your head fall into his shoulder, "Dammit Steve, you mean we could have been doing this when I was still in Hawkins?" Your mind was racing, your heart felt like it was about to beat right out of your chest. The missed opportunities and what ifs flew through your mind at the thought, and it nearly made you sick. Because for so long, having Steve as you did back in Hawkins was enough for you, but God you wanted so much more. And now you knew that you could have had it.

The thought that Steve could have been yours for so much longer than these fleeting summer months, that maybe if one of you would have actually had the guts to speak your mind, everything would be different. Maybe you two would have been together. Hell, the two of you may have even been married by now, with one or two little Harrington spawn running rampant all over Hawkins.

The thought made your heart hurt.

"Yeah, guess we could've been," he said it more to himself than to you and it sounds a little like regret. You were both quiet as you sat there, your forehead to his shoulder and his hand on your bare back. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were, wondering where you went wrong, how you could be so stupid.

You wondered what this revelation meant for the two of you. 

August

The month of August was one of the best you could remember. 

August slipped away into a moment in time

'Cause it was never mine

After working overtime for the first two weeks of the month, you had managed to convince your boss to let you take your summer holiday during the last two weeks of August. It was normally unheard of, since most of the continent was on summer holiday and it was still peak tourist season, but you somehow managed to convince him that your second in command could handle the winery for a couple weeks. 

Begrudgingly, he agreed. 

Steve was set to leave on the last day of the month, since the school year was beginning just after the start of September. While you didn’t understand how that would leave him with enough time to get himself ready for the new school year, you didn’t question it. 

You had your friend for a little longer, and that’s all that really mattered to you.

Steve had insisted that the two of you do something fun for your last weeks together, promising to foot the bill and make it memorable for the both of you. After too many pretend arguments that almost always ended in kisses and one of you underneath the other in your bed, the two of you landed on Barcelona. It was freeing, to pack a bag and just leave for a good reason this time, with a good man with good intentions by your side. 

You and Steve went without a plan, apart from Steve booking The Serras Hotel for you both. It was a lovely old building, with bed linens softer than any fabric you'd ever felt in your life and a perfect view of the water from your room. 

If you didn't know any better, you'd think Steve was trying to impress you.

Your days were spent consuming your weight in paella and sangria, then walking it off in the city, only to find more delicious food in the evenings. Dancing the nights away at whatever little night club you walked by that looked interesting. Going to the beach, then deeming it entirely too overrun by people, then opting to go back and spend the day at the rooftop pool instead. You did whatever you wanted, or whatever Steve wanted, with no rules and it was some of the best times you could remember. 

Near the end of your trip, you and Steve decided to spend the day trying to find the Sagrada Familia simply by wandering the city. Steve had said that "It's such a tall, pointy building, how hard could it be to find?" And who were you to argue with that very sound logic?

It turned out, finding a 'tall, pointy building' was, in fact, very difficult when you were on the ground and literally every building around you was a tall building.

The two of you wandered for hours, stopping for a quick lunch only to walk some more. Your legs were tired, your back ached (Steve tried to carry both his bag and yours, but you shut him down every time). Near two in the afternoon, you were tempted to beg him to just get a fucking cab, but you didn't really mind because Steve never let go of your hand for the entire walk, and he never stopped trying to make it all a little more bearable. And God, it worked. He didn't even have to try to make you smile, really. He just had that effect on you now.

It was that day that you realized something very important, and very fucking terrifying. 

That day, as you were both sweaty and sticky, tired from walking and not minding one bit because Steve was by your side, you realized that you had fallen in love with him over the summer. 

Or had you fallen back in love? Had the love you felt for him in Hawkins ever really left you? You thought that it had, because it had been years. Years of a failed love with someone else, of moving to a different country and leaving everything you knew behind. You thought that the mark Steve left on your heart had faded away long ago, but now, you weren't so sure it had ever left.

Sometimes you swore you could see it in his eyes, too. Not just lust, but some sort of adoration that went far beyond the bedroom or the realm of friendship. You thought you saw it in the way he held you at night, the way he never let go of your hand in the busy city streets. It wasn't just Steve being Steve; no, there was something else there. Something else beyond the nice gestures and sweet smiles. 

You almost asked him about it countless times. If his feelings for you lingered like yours did. If they were somehow found again over the summer, or you were just making things up in your head. 

But once again, you were too scared. You never did ask.

On the last night of your stay, you were both tired of the sweaty nightclubs and busy streets, so you opted for walking down to the beach to get away from the tourists instead. 

The beach was peaceful as you spread a blanket out onto the cool sand. It was almost empty, save for the random passerby every now and then. The only sounds were the soft crashing of waves, the distant sounds of the city, and Steve’s voice in your ear as the two of you talked about the trip, the summer, what to eat for breakfast before heading back to the airport in the morning.

Never about what was coming in a couple day’s time. Not about him leaving, and not about what would come after.

That was okay, though. 

Because you were together, for now. You and Steve, sitting side by side, stealing kisses between watching the waves lap at the shore. 

"Good idea, huh? Coming here?" Steve said, gesturing at nothing, but you assumed he meant the overall trip.

You agreed. "Yeah, although you didn't have to do all this. You could at least let me pay you-"

"Nope, not a chance. This was paid for and sponsored by the Harrington Estate, thank you very much."

This was the first time he'd mentioned anything about what had happened ever since that first night. "Do you wanna talk about it?" You asked softly.

"About my dad? No, told you, I'm fine."

"Steve, are you sure?"

You felt Steve shift beside you then, mirroring him when he sat cross-legged to face you. "Hey, I promise I'm fine, okay? We hadn't talked in a few years before, anyway. Sure, he was my father, but he wasn't a dad. So, I'm okay. And if I'm ever not okay, I'll let you know, okay? I'll call you up and you can listen to me scream and cry. I promise."

You snorted despite the moment, "That'd be a hell of a phone bill."

"I don't care. I miss hearing your voice anyway. Letters aren't really the same, you know?"

You did know, they really weren’t the same. They were never enough, and they'd never be enough, especially after this summer.

Steve spoke again, "Are you okay? After everything that went down in Hawkins?"

"Oh, yeah! Yeah, I've been good. Went through a period of berating myself for being so fucking stupid, but that's about it." 

"We all do stupid shit when we're in our twenties. I think you're good."

You offered him a nod, "I forgave myself for it a while back. I just wish things could've been different." You hope he'd catch the meaning behind your words, that you wished things could have been different for you and Steve. That maybe the two of you could have built a life together. 

You didn’t miss the pain in his eyes before he averted your gaze, the nod of his head that told you that he knew exactly what you meant, and yeah, he felt it, too. "Yeah, wish they were different, too." He brought his hand to your bare knee, tracing some pattern onto the skin, "I'm gonna miss the hell outta you, you know that?"

A lump formed in your throat at his words, at how tender he was being, so you only nodded. Afraid that you’d let out a sob if you did anything else. So, you just laid a hand on his, squeezing, almost as if he’d float across the ocean right then and there. Because you were going home tomorrow, and Steve was leaving you the day after, and you weren't ready for that yet. He seemed to understand your silence, so he didn’t wait for you to respond. He already knew what the answer would be, anyway. Instead, his free hand found the nape of your neck, tangling through the hair there and pulled you closer to him, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was a little clumsy, and a little messy, but neither of you seemed to care because the time was slipping through your fingers like the sand underneath you. 

And as the two of you fell back into bed together that night, something shifted. It felt different than all of the other times over the summer. It was like it always was, in a way, with Steve pressing his lips on any bare skin he found and whispering praises against you, but it felt different this time. This time, he made sure to take his time with you, exploring all he could, leaving marks he was sure would last for longer than his remaining time with you.

This time, it felt like saying goodbye. 

So much for summer love and saying "us"

If Steve noticed the way your mood would randomly sour during those last few days, or why you got a faraway look in your eye on the plane ride back to your home, he never commented. He'd always bring you back with sweet nothings and a kiss to take you out of your funk. You wondered if he was distracting you on purpose or if he was just that clueless. 

It would work, obviously. His little distractions would remind you that he was still here, still yours for a little while longer and you'd force the thoughts to the back of your mind. But they always came back, haunting you.  

The metaphorical tick of the clock was always there in your mind, because time was running out.

You wondered what would happen after. When Steve got on that plane back to America. Would things be as they were? A letter exchanged every few weeks, an email every other day once you both were able to get a computer? Would Steve ask you to go back to Hawkins to visit, or would he want to come back here to see you? How often would you be able to see one another? Because before, when you and Steve were just good friends, you both went five years without seeing one another, and somehow, you'd both survived. Letters sent across an ocean was enough. The wanting to see each other again was enough. But would it be enough now? How could it ever be?

You wondered if he would ask you to go home with him.

Would he want you to be with him, back in Hawkins? Would he want you to leave with him? Leave the life you've created for yourself here? If he begged you to run away with him, would you?

Or, would he want to stay here in Italy? Pack up his old life and build a new one in a new country? Shit, could you even ask him to do that?

More importantly, would he say yes if you did?

Livin' for the hope of it all, for the hope of it all

The morning of August 31st came way too soon.

You and Steve had been sitting on your bedroom floor all morning, packing the last of his things in between sipping coffee and reminiscing about the months you'd spent together before you had to leave for the airport after lunch. The coffee did little to soothe the knot in your stomach, but you held onto your mug anyway, needing something to do with your hands. A thought had been eating at you for the past few days; worming its way into your brain until you could hardly think about anything else. 

Because little sparks of hope had been lighting all summer. Comments made by Steve about the country, kisses pressed into your skin under bedsheets, laments about Steve not wanting to go back to Hawkins. They all bundled together and lit a fire of hope in your heart.

But what was the phrase, hope is a dangerous thing?

You wondered if you should just get it out. If you should ask the question that had been on the tip of your tongue for days. It might have been selfish, or wrong, to ask. It might have blown up in your face, but you had to ask. No more being scared to speak up for what you wanted. 

“Can we talk about something?” You asked suddenly. When Steve nodded, you opened your mouth to speak, closed it, then repeated the process. Now, that you had his attention, you couldn’t get the correct words out. Finally, you settled for, “Did you like it here?”

Steve didn’t answer right away, seemingly perplexed by your random question. “Yeah, I loved it here. Y’know, the food was awesome, I liked where you worked, it was cool. And yeah, being with you was amazing. Why?”

You considered his answer, averting his gaze when you asked your follow up, “You ever think about leaving Hawkins, too?”

“Sweetheart, what-”

“Would you want to stay here with me?” The silence that followed your question was deafening. After a beat, you allowed yourself to meet Steve’s eyes again to try and figure out what he was thinking. 

“Do you mean to- I, what do you mean?”

“I mean you could stay. This summer with you has been amazing and I-I think we would be good together. Would you ever consider it? We used to talk about leaving Hawkins, when we were younger - do you still think about it?”

He stood then, running his fingers through his hair. When he remained silent you continued on, rising to your feet as well. You felt frantic, like you had to explain yourself more. “You could go home, you know, get everything in order, but then come back, if you wanted? And then we could be together, like, actually together. Would you ever want that?”

Steve sighed then, a loud sound that made you stop in your tracks. “Sweetheart, I can’t just not go back, or go back just to leave again. What the hell would I even do here? I can't just pick up a teaching career in Italy, can I?” You hated how his voice sounded regretful, almost pitying and damn near making you cry, but then he surprised you.

“Would you want to come home with me?”

His words were a shock to your system. They knocked the air right out of your lungs. His eyes were on you, and they broke your heart because they were pleading, begging you to say yes. You couldn't think, could barely fucking breathe because didn't you want this? Didn't you want to be together with Steve? Didn't you want to keep him forever, build a life with him? To wake up in the morning close to him, sip coffee across from each other before work? Go home to him every night, instead of an empty apartment?

It sounded nice, right? 

But could you leave this? This little idyllic part of the world you’d called home for years now? The job you loved, and you had friends here, too. Could you be happy back in your shitty little hometown again? Worst of all, what if you did leave with him, and everything would blow up in your face? What if you followed Steve home, only to realize that you were only good for each other for a short while, and not for the long haul? And then you two would break up and have to see each other all over Hawkins, remembering what you gave up here?

You didn’t know if you would be able to handle that. 

Steve continued, “I thought about it too - it started in Barcelona - I was thinking about how much fun we had this summer, right? And thinking about leaving hurts, and it's 'cause I'm leaving you. So, would you ever consider coming back? Fuck, you could even come with me right now, I’ll buy you a ticket, I don’t care-" 

You knew what he meant, because the thought of him leaving was killing you. You hated knowing that you wouldn’t wake up next to him in the morning, and that you had no idea when you’d see him again. Still, you knew the answer to his question, and you hated that you had to give it.

"Steve, I don't want to go back." You tried to take a breath, but you couldn't calm yourself because you saw the hurt in Steve's eyes at your words. "I wanna be with you, I want it so badly, but not there. I can't just leave. I can't leave this just to go back to Hawkins."

You watched as he physically deflated, his disappointment quickly turning to indignation. "You're saying you'd never go back? For anything?"

"I- fuck!" You brought your hands to your eyes, rubbing until you saw stars, remembering the question you had tortured yourself with for days. 

If he begged you to run away with him, would you?

You had wanted the option for the whole summer. You wanted Steve to ask you to be with him, even if you didn't know if you could leave with him. Or, at the very least, you wanted him to want to stay. To fall in love with the country like you did and want to make his own life here. 

“I can’t leave this,” you said, tears gathering on your lash line because it killed you to say those words.

You watched as his eyes narrowed, shoulders rolled back, and you could practically see the fight ignite in his eyes, “Are you saying you won’t come back for me? After all this? You won’t come back, but you expect me to just stay here ‘cause you asked?”

“You’re a fucking Harrington, you can do whatever you damn well please. Hell, you booked this trip on a whim, you could stay on a whim if you wanted!”

“It’s not that easy!” He wasn't screaming, but the sudden volume of his voice startled you. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re adults now! We’ve got things to take care of, so no, I can’t just stay on a whim.”

He moved closer to you then, “You know what I think it is? I think you’re just scared. You were scared back then, after all that shit happened so you just left! You left me, and everyone else. You just ran away from your problems because you were a coward, and you’re still a coward.”

“Don’t call me a fucking coward!” you yelled, voice cracking, and you hated how his words cut you because this felt a lot like a breakup, like you were losing him for good. This felt like the end. 

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

Steve only continued, and you saw a glimpse of the old King Steve that you thought he had left behind. Biting, out for blood. “No, I think you’re just scared. You’re scared to admit how you feel, scared to leave this little bubble you’ve created for yourself.”

“Dammit Steve, you want me to admit how I really feel?” You felt your tears flowing freely at this point, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “Yes, I’m scared to go back because I’m scared that it’ll all be for nothing! I’ll go back, and we’ll realize that we were only part-time soulmates, and then I’ll be miserable again. Because that would hurt even more than this does, and this hurts like hell.”

He was silent, his eyes were softer but you couldn't stop. "Why can't we be together here?" You begged, "Why can't we just stay here?"

When you were only met with his silence once more, you realized that you were at an impasse. Neither of you were willing to give up the lives you've built in order to build another life miles away, not even for each other. You both seem to come to this realization at the same time, because Steve's shoulders sag, and your breath hitches, and you see the shine of tears line Steve's eyes. You realize that the time for the two of you had passed, and that you're not going to be together after this. Now, you're just two people who fell in love at the wrong time.

"This isn't gonna work, is it?" His voice is lower now, but you don't miss the way it hitches at the end. "You're not coming with me."

You shake your head, heart sinking at the finality of his statement because this was it, "And you're not staying here."

"No, I can't, sweetheart."

You were expecting that answer, you knew that answer, but hearing it still stings. Because while you knew it was selfish, you wanted to keep him here, all for yourself. Even if you knew how unrealistic that dream was.

But the dream was over.

"Hey, come here," he whispered, and you didn't hesitate to fall into him when he reached for you. “I’m sorry for yelling; I didn’t mean to call you a coward. I didn’t mean any of it.”

You allowed the tears to fall, dropped your head to rest on his chest one more time. His grip around your waist was crushing and you felt the wetness of his own tears on your neck, but you didn't dare pull away from this. You breathed him in to ground yourself; rosemary and mint shampoo, fresh coffee, remnants of his cologne mixed with your laundry soap. The mix was intoxicating, comforting, and you wished you could bottle it up, save it for when your apartment would feel empty once he was gone.

Because you knew it would. You’d feel him everywhere, his side of your bed, his favorite coffee mug, the mark he'd left on your heart. He’d linger for long after he was on that plane.

“For what it’s worth, I love you” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Well that doesn’t do us any good now, does it? It might be the worst thing I’ve heard you say all summer” he responded with a caustic chuckle. “But for what it’s worth, I love you, too. You know that.”

Though it was hard to admit to yourself, you saw the bitter irony and humor in it all and found yourself letting out a small laugh through your tears. The two of you stood for a few more minutes, not wanting to break contact, but knowing it was inevitable.

"What happens now? Still friends?" You heard him mutter against your shoulder, felt him hug you a little tighter like he was scared to let go. You were glad that you weren't facing one another now, because you hated to lie to his face.

If you were honest, you'd say that you'd try to stay friends, but that wasn't really going to happen, was it? Not after everything that happened over these months. No, Steve would go home, you'd both write to each other for a while, acting like you never broke each other's hearts. But then, Steve would find someone else, and maybe you would, too, and the letters would just bring up glorious, painful memories about what happened here. What could have been if things had been different back home. And then, pretty soon, you would both forget about this summer. The pictures on your fridge would fade and eventually Steve would just be someone you knew in a past life.

You could try to keep things as they were, but soon, you'd drift apart. No matter how much you both wanted to pretend that you wouldn't. That's just how life goes.

"Yeah, Steve," you said, tears flowing freely, unashamed of the way you were clinging to him before this moment was over. "Still friends, always."

[rustedhearts]

dagger (boxer!steve harrington x fem librarian!reader)

summary: the dark of night and light of morning in steve's old apartment

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

✶ the king of the ring (1989) ✶ the library

tags: angst; toxic relationship; mentions of past child abuse/domestic violence; fluff at the end. again, not edited.

"the sunshine girl is sleeping, she falls and dreams alone. and me i am her dagger, too numb to feel her pain."

— dagger, slowdive

hawkins, indiana. october 1989.

"Do you think I'm bad?"

It comes whispered in the blue dark of midnight, tickled with the warm mint breath of your boyfriend on the other end of the pillow. Rays of moonlight beam over the bed through the blinds above. The whoop of sirens passed by in a whizzed crescendo. In one of the apartments downstairs, a door slammed so hard it rattled the frame on the nightstand.

And despite the noise of the night, the room was painfully quiet in this bed with Steve.

"Of course not," you murmured, shifting to brush noses with him atop flattened feathers.

Steve sighs, another gust of warmth. His fingers graze your chin from their place under your head. Your feet rub together under the sheets, legs intertwined. He fucked you forty minutes ago and neither of you had been able to fall asleep since. The ache never really went away. The gnawing, biting sting that something was wrong never settled down.

"That I'm a bad person," he clarified.

When he spoke this lowly, this softly, his voice had a graveled edge to it. It cracked around vowels and faded off at the end of sentences.

You furrowed your brows, swallowing. "No, Steve."

Forty minutes ago he fucked you, but three hours ago he was slamming every door in the house and throwing his car keys down the stairs. He was shattering a mug in the sink and banging his fist into his head that 'wouldn't stop pounding.' He ignored your urges to fix the bleeding on his brow, to sit down and rest because he had a long night.

A night of loss.

It was a low-level, low stake fight—but failure was failure to Steve. He said nothing on the way home, but exploded the moment he pulled into the lot when you reached for his arm. The slam of the passenger door narrowly missed your hand. The tug of your arm inside the apartment left a burning ring.

You were going to tell him you loved him tonight. After the fight, in your prettiest dress, a love letter written for him to find in the morning when you went to work.

But now you lied awake, hours before the opening shift at the library, and wondered how badly love was supposed to hurt.

Steve wiggled his hand free of your head and brought it to your cheek. Thumb brushing the tears dried on your soft, clean skin. Running along your shoulder, over the soft cotton of his shirt pulled on in a need for comfort. Into the crook of your elbow, massaging the flesh with another heavy sigh.

"Think m' bad for you."

You wanted to protest—but he was. Your parents said it the moment they met him. They begged you not to see him anymore. Your friends grimaced when you complained of another fight. You followed every tear-stained explanation with 'but I love him.'

"No," you argued firmly.

You wanted to say more, lips parting to express some sort of fond sentiment that would've made Steve wince—but he ran the pad of his finger over the top of your brow, just how you liked it when you were tired.

Your nose wiggled, your lashes fluttered. Steve sighed another minty breath.

"Go to sleep," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist resting on your chest. His palm pressed into your cheek. You let your eyes sink shut, your breathing shallow. Steve watched, blinking into a dusty darkness, as you fell asleep.

✶ ✶

Steve woke sometime near dawn. After a measly few hours of stirring and turning, doing his best to get comfortable but feeling nothing but discomfort, he snapped awake with a huff.

He slipped out of bed quietly, sheets whooshing in the still quiet of early morning. Blackbirds were twittering in the trees beyond the window, the soft orange and pink hues of a rising sun casting a beautiful glow over your cheek on the pillow. It made your hair look like it was on fire.

He shuffled into the kitchen, flipped a clean glass from its place on the kitchen counter, drying on a towel. He filled it with water, gulped it down like air. He filled it again, and padded back into the bedroom.

He leaned against the doorway, head cocking to press against the wood. You slept so peacefully. Like some sort of painting, how perfectly perched your hands were, how wonderfully languid your legs were under the sheets. You helped him pick a new bedspread out last month. You said the last one was too 'scruffy' and you didn't like how it felt on your skin.

He hadn't meant to, but Steve upset you that day. He said he didn't want 'girly shit' on his bed, that he didn't need a new bedspread because he was barely home to sleep on it. You hid your tears behind a box of sheets.

And he felt like a piece of shit in the middle of a K-Mart aisle.

Why did he say it? He still doesn't know. Standing there, watching you sleep, watching your face settle into a state of stasis—unaffected by Steve, free of frowns or creases or worries—Steve wondered what the fuck you were doing with him. He was terrible to you.

Not all the time, but enough. Enough that it made him sick. Tears sprung to his eyes, burned them like a sandpaper. He sniffed, rubbing a scabbed knuckle into the corner of one to clear them away.

Why did he say such horrible things? Why was he so quick to bite, so quick to nip? He growled. He barked. He yelled for nothing. It was nature to him now, to think everything was out to get him. Nature turned him bitter.

Steve took a sip of his water and set it on the dresser. A movie ticket stub sat tucked under a bottle of cologne. His finger grazed the paper on his way to the edge of the bed, where he sat near your feet.

He wished he could tell you why he was like this—but what would he say? My dad fucked me up. My mom fucked me up. Did they?

Steve pressed his elbows onto his knees and doubled over.

Or was he always like this? Was he born to hurt?

He pressed his palms into his eyes. The tears pooled into them, trickled free around the edges and down his arms. He knew if you were awake to see him cry, he'd push you away.

He didn't want to. He wished he could tell you that most of all. That every bite, every bark, every time you turned away with that sad little well in your eyes—it came before he could stop it.

Your hand was the softest thing he'd ever felt. Trailing his back, running through his hair, cupping his fingers, skimming his stomach.

Steve sniffed again, lifting his head to peer over his shoulder at your sleeping figure again.

When you were particularly happy, you left a smatter of kisses on his face. His eyes, his nose, his chin, the scar under his jaw where his father knocked him into the kitchen counter at eight years old. You took particular care of that small sliver of skin, running your nose over the scar that took on a tanned appearance.

He cowered every time.

They made him ugly. His father, his mother, the marks they left on him that he couldn't erase.

Steve stood from the bed and found his jacket on the floor. He fished his cigarettes from the pocket, swiped his lighter from the nightstand. He crawled into bed and tucked his knees up, using them as shelves for his arms as he took in the first drag.

You stirred in your sleep, brows creasing when you rolled onto your back. Your hands sought the sheets, and Steve was quick to bring them over your shoulders. You slept like a corpse sometimes. Steve's lip quirked.

You were funny. Most people didn't know that about you. They categorized you as a quiet, timid person—but fuck were you talkative. When you got comfortable, when you got to know someone, your mouth babbled like a motor. You made Steve laugh without even trying.

Did he ever make you laugh?

Steve looked away, blowing the smoke sideways. You let out a little groaning sound. He hurriedly resumed his staring, watching your eyes flutter open.

"Steve?" you slurred, lips barely moving. Your hands reached for him limply, still heavy with sleep.

Steve pulled his cigarette away, holding it over the edge of the bed. "Shh. Go back to sleep, baby."

You tapped the bed a few times, eyes sinking closed again. Another little noise, whiny and cracked, emitted from your throat. "Want you."

Steve flinched. Half-asleep, sweet, softened and warmed by hours of slumber in freshly-cleaned sheets: you were too good for him.

He stubbed the cigarette into the ashtray on his windowsill overhead, quickly shimmying his way toward you under the covers. You curled into the warmth of him, cold nose nudging his chest. He wound his arm around your back and buried his fingers in your hair. Your arm slid over his side delicately.

"Hmm," you moaned contentedly. "Stop thinking."

Steve pressed his cheek to the top of your head, letting a smile crack through. He hissed in a breath, letting it release with a groan. "Okay."

A moment of quiet passed. For a minute, Steve thought you fell back to sleep. But the way you breathed into him, the way your lashes fluttered against his chest, Steve knew you were only pretending.

"Are you awake?"

You blinked your eyes open, fixing them on a streak of light over the wall at your feet. "Yes."

"Can we..." Steve squeezed his eyes shut, swallowed down the shitty thing that clawed its way up his throat. "Can we just...be together today? Just me and you?"

Your lips spread into a smile, head turning to hide in his arm. You let him wait a minute, sat in the buttery silence of the morning before anyone else was awake.

You let out a sigh like you were thinking. "Okay."

Steve ran the edge of his fingers down the back of your skull. "Okay."

You stayed in bed until ten. Not speaking, not sleeping—just touching. Listening. Breathing in and out.

You called the library from the edge of the toilet seat as Steve warmed the shower, watching the plain of his broad back flex and squirm with every movement. You told them you spent the night throwing up, that you couldn't come in. Steve turned around and winked at you.

He crowded you against the tiled wall, fucked you flat into the cold surface under a stream of steaming water. Free of rough hands and angry eyes; only soft hands kneading, only gentle lips kissing, only his dripping water into your eyes when he leaned over your shoulder to find your mouth.

He buttered the toast when it popped from the toaster, salted and peppered the eggs when they came to the plates. You ate on the countertop, legs tucked in under a big blue t-shirt clean from the closet floor. He leaned into the cabinets and fed you bites of strawberry-jam slathered toast. He licked a dollop from your chin and chuckled when you squirmed.

He did the dishes. He cleaned the porcelain shatters from last night. He let you play the radio on your favorite station and grab at his hips when Carly Simon came on. He scooped you into his arms, hands warm and chapped and full of dish soap bubbles. He carried you to the living room and threw you on the couch.

The pair of you spent the afternoon half-naked on the floor, missing pants and proper shirts but agreeing to keep the heat on high. You crawled through photo albums and old high school yearbooks, spreading out his record collection and some of your own you brought weeks ago. You played them all, even the shitty ones he groaned at.

He pushed you on the floor with a heavy hand on your chest and snapped a Polaroid. He said he liked how you looked like this. In his clothes, damp from his shower with nothing but a smile on your face.

Most of all, he made you laugh. All day, tipping your head back into the ceiling, squirming into his shoulder, bringing fingers over your mouth to hide your teeth. Each time, he pulled them away. Kissed you, all mouth and no tongue, and pulled away just to watch.

To watch how happy he made you, because for once, he really did.

[bullsandthebones]

"Car Lights" Pt2

Billy Hargrove x Male Reader

Fem Aligned DNI

Content Warning: Homophobia, Bullying, Rumor Spreading, Angst, Hurt/No Comfort, Mention of Cigarettes, Descriptions of Panic Attacks, We also have Hurt/Comfort that I didn't mean to add but yk, Reader gets beat to shit, Toxic Love, Slurs Mentioned

you did this to yourselves. repent for your sins however you deem fit. also I had just been watching A Court of Fey & Flowers before this so the wording has become regal, I apologize. I hurt myself with this as well so have fun.

Three weeks. Three full weeks had passed before you went back to school.

A fateful Friday, the day of your return, was also the day of an important basketball game, one that determined if the team would go to the state championships. You returned to school on that day in hopes that the game would overshadow your existence.

You hoped that not even he would notice, you hoped that he would be too focused on practicing to be aware of your presence.

Three weeks of letters being left wedged in your car door. Three weeks of gifts dropped off at your door in the dead of night. Three weeks of calls, three weeks of cigarette butts littering your garden, three weeks of rocks thrown at your window. Three weeks of this, three weeks of that. Three weeks that told you he was going to notice no matter what.

Your arrival was rather unceremonious. Your car sputtered into the parking lot and you slammed the door shut as you walked up to the entrance of the school. You speed walk past a group of teens chattering about in the lot, keeping your head down.

You had almost made it to your first class successfully, but you heard someone call your name before you could slip into the door. Panic arose in your chest, clutching your lungs and your heart, making you light headed and wobbly. Your breathing quickened as you slowly turned around.

A sea of eyes looked at you and the whispers began. A glance here, a cupped hand to an ear there, they all knew.

And they were all staring at you.

Your skin felt feverish, but you felt a chill run down your spine. You were freezing cold but burning hot at the same time. Your hands begin shaking as your eyes dart around in an attempt to find who called your name.

When they land on him, confusion and apprehension fills you. The former proclaimed "King of Hawkins" was rapidly approaching you, a nervous look in his eyes as he realized his mistake in calling out your name. He quickly grabbed onto your arm and led you to an empty classroom, flipping off anyone who made remarks about the scene.

Once he closed the door, he let out a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get everyone's attention."

Steve rests a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to calm you, but you flinch away. You've heard about what they do to people like you in towns like this. He quickly retracts his hand and holds both of them up in surrender, not wanting to freak you out.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, we're on the same team." He gestures vaguely as he speaks, but the way he says it hints at something more than him being an ally.

Your eyebrows furrow in utter confusion. Steve Harrington, a queer? You motion for him to continue speaking as you relax your tense stance a bit.

"I thought you might-", he pauses, thinking carefully about his next choice of words, " I thought you might want a friend. I-in a situation like this, you know?"

You regard Steve carefully. His posture, his facial expression, his everything. He feels genuine, and for the first time in three weeks, you relax your whole body, almost collapsing into him. Steve catches your body, helping you stay upright.

"Yes, I.. I would like a friend." Your voice was raspy and broken due to lack of use. Steve just holds you as you attempt to regain your composure and clear your thoughts. He seems awkward but not willing to pull away, as though if he moves you'll break and crumble into millions of pieces. Ones that, try as he might, he could never put back together, not correctly. Not perfectly. Not you.

Unbeknownst to you, or to Steve, a certain blonde haired boy watched you get dragged off into that classroom.

×××

Rumors had spread about the school like wildfire.

"I heard that Steve Harrington kissed that little queer guy!"

"Well I heard they hooked up in the bathroom!"

"No way, Steve Harrington wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole!"

They all got back to you by the end of the day, Steve reassured you that rumors wouldn't deter him from sticking by your side. "I've been through worse.", was what he told you, a scary look in his eyes as he said it.

You had said some goodbyes at the entrance of the school before you both parted ways to your respective vehicles. You had majorly relaxed since the beginning of the day, no one dared to touch you with Steve by your side, and most people were too excited by the game to care. Even as the sky began to darken and the crisp autumn weather grew colder for the night, you were almost at ease.

Almost.

Hairs pricked at the nape of your neck, you felt like you were being watched as you opened your car door. Most people weren't in the lot, opting to stay and get ready for the game, so no one should be watching you. You gulp, attempting to push the feeling down as you clamber into the car.

Before you can fully sit down, a hand grabs your arm roughly and pulls you out. You fall to the ground with the force, looking up to see the one guy you had been avoiding for weeks. "Billy, please-"

Loud, howling laughter surrounds you as the rest of the basketball team steps out of seemingly nowhere. You knew what was coming, you just weren't expecting it from him.

A glimpse of pain flashes over Billy's eyes, before turning to rage. You see him wind back his leg, not even registering the blow to your side until he does it again. Cheering sounds from all around you, the situation feeling so surreal. Billy kicks and stomps you, shouting nonsense and slurs. You don't hear it, you're focused on the feeling of blood leaking from your nose and he breaks it with his fist. You don't attempt to fight back, not seeing the use in it, you can't win a fight against Billy. You could never fight him in the first place.

You accepted the beating, knowing that, unfortunately, your feelings towards the boy couldn't change.

You loved him. You loved him even though each kick to your ribs made a sharp cracking sound. You loved him even though blood was leaking from your broken nose down to your busted lips. You loved him even though you could taste blood in your throat and in your mouth.

When the jeering quieted down and the jocks felt as though the show had gotten boring, the reminder of your place in society had come to a stop. They dispersed without even a second thought, not even a glance back at you, at your body that had curled up in on itself as soon as they started leaving.

Billy stood back for a moment, a look of pure disgust and remorse adorning his features. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but when he saw you tremble and cough up blood, a tear fell from his eye and he briskly walked back into the school.

Leaving you there.

Alone.

On the freezing cold concrete that welcomed you as you lost any sort of consciousness that you were desperately clinging onto.

[theoreticslut]

Hello! Could I ask for a 🖋️ about Eddie wanting to sneak into Harrington! Reader 's room and ending up in Steve's?

You absolutely can!! I love this idea sm omg 😂💗

「 sneaking into the wrong room 」

eddie munson x fem harrington!reader

requested: yes

warnings: swearing, brief allusion of toxic home environment, normal sibling attitude, pet names (sweetheart, princess)

-you weren’t like your brother much at all

-you played a sport

-not cheerleading like most would think though

-& you were technically “in” the popular clique

-but that’s where personality similarities ended

-where steve thrived with the attention of being popular

-you could not care less about your social status

-you hated the jock’s big attitudes

-you hated the parties that were always being thrown that your brother dragged you to

-you hated how people put you on some sort of pedestal simply bc you carry the harrington name

-which you think is part of what drew you to eddie

-he was everything you’re brother couldn’t stand

-& everything you craved in life

-even though eddie got his own labels

-he never needed to live up to them like you felt you had to with yours

-he could wholeheartedly be himself around school with hardly any repercussions

-you loved it

-& wanted to be like that

-so you found yourself drifting over to him more and more

-during shared classes, during lunch, after school, etc

-you wanted to just be with him

-& be able to breathe for the first time in your life

-he realized this rather quickly once you started hanging out

-& he was more than willing to be that breath of fresh air for you

-you were not your brother in the slightest

-which not only drew eddie in to you

-but had him falling for you all at once

-he wanted to be around you just as much as you wanted to be around him

-which is why he’s currently outside your house

-van parked far enough away from the cul-de-sac that no one should notice it

-trying to find your window to surprise you

-he attempts to look at the walls of the two rooms he can see

-but can’t make much out

-one looks like it’s got different posters hung up

-but Eddie can’t make out what they’re of

-they could be band posters

-or they could be sport magazine posters

-there’s no telling

-huffing, he decides to just make a choice to climb up to

-worst that’ll happen is he chooses the wrong room and will have to climb back down again

-but when he gets to the window of the room he chose

-he realizes there’s no easy way down

-especially when he hears your parents arguing in the room he’d have to drop down in front of

-they’d surely see him

-so he makes the decision to climb into this room after making sure no one was in there

-he figured he could sneak out of the room easy enough if it wasn’t yours

-pushing the window up

-Eddie lifts himself through the frame

-but stumbles and clatters to the floor with a groan

-“Steve? Are you al-Eddie?”

-“hi sweetheart.” He smiles

-looking up at you from his position on the floor

-he watches as your expression turns to one of panic

-“what are you doing here?! And in Steve’s room no less?”

-“wanted to surprise you. couldn’t tell which room was yours, though”

-you shake your head as you huff

-he was going to get you in trouble one of these days

-“you’re gonna get caught doing stupid shit like that. get up & i’ll sneak you into my room.”

-“hiding a fugitive, huh, princess? I think I’m starting to be a bad influence on y-“

-both you and Eddie freeze as you hear Steve coming up the stairs

-muttering to himself about whatever your parents had been yelling at him about

-“get up! my room is just across the hall. door’s open. I’ll distract him while you get the fuck out of here.”

-you can’t help the panic in your chest at Steve finding Eddie in his room

-you’ve only gotten dozens of lectures on how he’s not good from you from the “king” himself

-he’d lose his shit if he found out Eddie was in the house

-trying to find your room no less

-“y/n? What’re you doing?” Steve questions as you turn around from his room

-“looking for you. I’m really craving a fudge pop but couldn’t find one earlier when I looked. Do you know if we’ve still got any?”

-“as far as I know. go check for yourself”

-you huff as he tries to push past you

-panic welling in your chest at him possibly seeing Eddie

-so you grab his arm to stop him

-& to get him to look at you

-“I just told you I couldn’t find any earlier. Could you come help me look?”

-“have dad” Steve mutters

-“you want me to ask dad if we have any fudge pops when we both know what kind of mood he’s in? You’d really send your little sister down into the lions den?”

-you know you’re laying it on a little thick

-but you figure it’s the best chance you’ve got to get Steve away from his room for a moment

-“fine. alright, I’ll help you look.”

-“thank you! You’re really not the worst brother you know that?”

-you can’t help but tease him as you smile

-you’re sure if you said anything else he’d have left you to fend for yourself

-& you know you’re right when he simply mutters for you to shut up

-Eddie listens as both your voices fade away down the stairs

-waiting until he can’t hear either of you anymore before sneaking out of Steve’s room

-& over to yours

-which of course is the one with the posters he couldn’t make out

-they were band posters now that he could see them

-with a few occasional paintings & drawings mixed in

-he takes the time to study your room as he waits for your voices to return

-you tell Steve thank you once more before he’s shutting his door on you

-which is when you walk into your room to find Eddie lounging on your bed

-“fudge pops? That was your distraction?”

-Eddie can’t help but chuckle at that being the only thing you could think of

-“it worked, didn’t it, munson?”

-he nods and let’s a smile settle on his lips as you hold one out to him

-“told him I was having a really bad chocolate craving to get that one.”

-at your chuckle eddie simply shakes his head

-smiling as he takes the fudge pop from you

-“you’re something else, sweetheart. you know that?”

-“least I didn’t crawl into the wrong room”

-eddie can’t argue with that point

-so he opens his fudge pop before opening his arms for you to settle in to

-& oddly enough

-the fudge pop experience is when you’re absolutely certain you want eddie in your life for as long as you can keep him

——————————————————————

pls like & reblog if you enjoyed!

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[bvtbxtch]

Stephen | Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader TEASER

I have been a little obsessed with mid 2000s trash pop, so when Stephen by Kesha came on my phone, I got inspired. Here is my delve into my very first Steve Harrington fanfic! I don't have a timeline for it now, since I am in a bunch of shows, but thought I would give a little sneak peek!

“You’re my object of affection, my drug of choice, my sick obsession.”

5 years since graduation, 5 years since you ran your way through Hawkins High, leaving boys in your wake…. Except one. Steve Harrington, apparent untouchable due to his infatuation with Nancy Wheeler. What happens when you see a worn out, former heartthrob with his fizzled highschool flame stuck to him? Unhappy, feeling unloved and in a bind, you thought Steve could be the conquest of the night… or so you thought.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Toxic!Fem! Reader

Content warnings: smut, angst, fluff. Non canon au. Steve and Nancy are together from Steve’s senior year to the time of the story. Cheating, p in v sex, oral (m and f receiving), Reader defs isn’t a girls girl but I couldn’t help it.

The pounding in your head mirrored that in your heart as you remembered the burn of alcohol down your throat from last night. Your makeup had been smudged off onto your pillow, some still remaining on your swollen, hungover face. The day after drinking anxiety had reared its head, but a wave of nerves hit you like a ton of bricks when a vision of you writing your phone number on Steve Harrington’s hand - more or less in front of his girlfriend. 

You cupped your hands over your face and your shoulders shook. You couldn’t help but giggle at the picture of her porcelain face twisted into a bout of jealous rage. You could fully admit to yourself that you lived on the side of delusion, but there was a piece of you that wholeheartedly believed that your former king of Hawkins High would call you. 

And yet, you sat and stared at the phone perched silently on your nightstand while you nursed your hangover all day. The bright afternoon light evolved into an evening glow and still you hadn’t heard the shrill ring. You put on records and VCRs. You flicked through magazines and tried to pick up the new Danielle Steele book you had pocketed from the bookstore on main street. But the soundtrack of your thoughts was the hope that the telephone would ring and that you would hear a smooth baritone voice calling you. You fought to keep your eyes open while the blue light of your TV laughed back at you. You finally surrendered to the sleep your body had been pleading for, the blur of the night previous finally making itself clear in your dreams…

More to come sooooooon!

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