WITH FIREWORKS! STEVE
synopsis : after a date at the carnival, steve gives you your first kiss! (prompt: “was that your first kiss?”)
word count : 1.6k
author’s note : repost from my old blog! i fixed her up a little bit, endured changing past to present tense just for you so….
“Those games were totally rigged,” Steve huffs as he prods at the small teddy bear clutched in his hands.
You’re situated on the hood of his car, smiley lips tinged blue thanks to the half-eaten cone of cotton candy in your hands. Steve stands in between your legs with a pout as his free hand rests beside your thigh, finger itching to graze your skin as it taps the metal of his car. The summer sun has just dipped below the horizon, but his face is illuminated by the multicolored lights of the fair behind you. Even with a sullen attitude, he just looks so pretty.
It was only your third official date — excluding the weekly, hour-long visits to Family Video, which Robin made sure to tease him for — and Steve figured it was time to rattle his feathers, so to speak. He wanted to impress you by showing off his athleticism, and carnival games provided an exemplary opportunity to do just that.
He envisioned your arms full and occupied by the array of giant prizes he won for you. You’d watch with an endearing grin on your face every time he beat a game. The night would end with your arms thrown around his shoulders and the perfect kiss that had you both swooning.
With fireworks in the background, obviously.
But luck had strayed far away from Steve Harrington’s side. Far, far away.
“Oh, they were, were they?”
“Definitely. ‘You can only throw it with an underhand,’” Steve mocks the game attendant with a husky voice — a terrible impression, really, but he knew it’d make you laugh. “That’s a made up rule. For sure. I’ve never heard that rule before. Ridiculous.”
The boy sighs defeatedly, letting you take the bear from his hand before running his fingers through his, now disheveled hair. The brown locks had endured the torment throughout the night as he increasingly became more and more stressed. And he didn’t want to admit he was embarrassed, it felt entirely dramatic and silly. But he was, and the way he avoided your gaze while his teeth worried his bottom lip was enough of a tell.
He laughs meekly at himself and squeezes the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, I was trying so hard to win one of those gigantic bears — too hard.”
You hum as your eyes scan over the stuffie. It was no bigger than the length of your hand. Its body was stiff and straight and a tuft of cotton spilled out from under its right arm due to a couple frayed stitches. The ribbon around its neck was barely being held together with a glob of hot glue.
“I like this one, it’s cute.” At his scoff, you double down, “I’m serious! It’s got a lot of charm to it. It’s perfect.”
You move your attention from the bear to Steve only to find that he’s already looking at you. His gaze is incredibly soft, smile lines decorating the corners of his lips as his tongue is coyly tucked into his cheek. His eyes are brimming with love, you think you might burst the longer they’re on you. He finally lets himself graze the skin of your thighs as a subtle thank you. The attention was all-consuming, it made it hard for you to focus. It was hard to do much of anything really, with him looking at you like that.
Quickly, you clear your throat and look up into the sky in abrupt thought. “I think I’m going to name him…Eve.”
“Eve? Eve the bear?”
“Mmhmm,” you affirm with the wave of the cotton candy, “Eve ‘The Bear’ Bearington.”
A huff resembling a short laugh leaves his mouth as he drops his chin down. Lowly, he mutters, “You’re unbelievable,” before looking up at you again with a doting grin. He moves to shake the bear’s hand gingerly, holding it between his thumb and his index, and bowing his head.
“Nice to meet you, Eve. You’re looking a little rough, bud. Bad hangover?”
You scoff and protectively pull Eve into your chest as if it were a child. The chuckle that reverberates through his chest encourages your heart to dither as heat rises to the tips of your ears. “That was very rude, Harrington,” you reply, feigning shock while trying to fight off the smile creeping onto your lips. It doesn’t work.
“What? No, Eve didn’t think it was rude. I’ve been there before, I’m sure he appreciates my empathy,” Steve argues, eyes momentarily flitting to the cotton candy that sat untouched in your hand for the past few minutes. As he nonchalantly stretches his hand out to pull a piece of the sweet, you move your arm out of his reach.
He glares at you with a tilt of his head. You raise your eyebrows to challenge him.
“Bullies don’t get sweets.”
A small gasp emanates from him before his lips are twisting into an impish lopsided smile. He tsk’s and takes a small step back. “Well, that’s too bad…because it just tastes so,” he looks away innocently, “…much,” he pauses.
”…Better!” He lunges forward earning a yelp from you as one arm wraps around your waist while the other moves to grab at the cotton candy. His fingers curl into your sides, eliciting a fit of laughs and giggles to fall clumsily from your sugar-coated tongue which makes it that much harder to fight against him.
Albeit, you don’t cease, pushing against his shoulder and still trying to stretch your arm as far away from him as possible. But it was no use as he slightly lifted you up off the car for just a moment to pull you flush against him. Your legs reflexively wrap around his hips and once you drop the bear, your unoccupied hand grips a handful of his polo for stability. The action had taken you by surprise, being too distracted to push him away when he ducks his head down to take a bite of the candy floss.
“Yup, just as I thought. Ten times better,” he preaches, letting it dissolve on his tongue to savor the flavor.
You’re sure you look a mess. Your eyes must be glazed over complimented by your lips still parted in shock. Your chest is rising and falling in a quick, inconsistent pattern as you try to collect yourself. Again, Steve has thrown your train of thought completely off course.
“You suck,” you manage to say. It was a lame attempt at an insult. But the words were practically dripping with adoration, all he could do was smile.
“Yeah?”
You nod meekly.
You’re certain he can feel your heart thumping wildly against your ribcage, certain that even through the background carnival noises and both your uneven breaths, he could hear it, as well.
And despite being so sure of your dumbfounded expression, Steve thought you looked so beautiful like this. In disarray, your sweater fell off your shoulders to hang loosely on your arms and your hand is holding his shirt so tightly like it was a lifeline. His eyes dart to your lips to trace over your cupid’s bow before glancing back up to find your eyes.
And you thought he looked just as pretty. His nearness was entirely disorienting. You could smell the saccharine hint of stolen cotton candy mingled with his ever-prized Calvin Klein cologne. His hair had fallen handsomely over his forehead. The moles and freckles scattered across his face are more fascinating than ever as you count them until you reach his lips. How soft and inviting they looked.
You’re so completely enamored, you don’t even register when he leans in, brushing his lips against your own in a feather-light kiss. Your breath hitches in your throat and before you can even bring yourself back down to earth, he begins to pull away.
“Sorry, I thought…”
He moves to step away from you, but your legs tighten around him to keep him in place as your fingers wrap around the wrist on your waist.
“No! I’m sorry, I…it was nice, it’s just I haven’t…I mean, I’ve never…” You swallow down a lump in your throat as you feel your eyes start to water.
The second you glance up to gauge his reaction, you regret it. You watch his eyes widen in realization and feel his grip on your waist go slack. Hiding your face behind clammy hands, you groan and drop your head to his shoulder. Your entire body felt like it was on fire and you wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole.
“Was that your first kiss?”
You nod timidly, dragging your hands down to your lap to wring out your fingers, your gaze immediately following. And Steve is not malicious, he’d never laugh at you, but you feel just a little mortified that you froze up.
“Hey,” he cooed, delicately cupping your cheek and lifting your head. “It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.” The words are hushed and soft, a sweet reassurance that causes your insides to melt.
“Was it…was it good?” he asks.
The question makes you giggle, “I dunno, I didn’t really get a chance to return the favor.”
He nods, the beginnings of a wide smile slowly making its way onto his blushing face. “Right…do you maybe, wanna try again?”
You mirror his expression before you’re the one leaning in this time, a kiss that he reciprocates feverishly. His lips slot against your own as his arm tightens around your waist once more. Your fingers dip into hair and he hums against you at the feeling before pulling away.
You giggle at the dazed look on his face and his kiss-bitten lips.
“How was that one?” he asks, eyes shamelessly journeying over your face.
“It was perfect.”
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𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐔𝐏
𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd garroth, gene, laurance, travis
𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff? literal hurt/comfort
𝐂𝐖: mentions of injuries but no in-depth descriptions
𝐀/𝐍: me when i spend more time finding the pictures for a good picture header than actually writing. i also did not proofread at all so i'm so sorry for any typos or hiccups in my writing
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇
the fight has long since been over, yet after searching every corner of the village, you still saw no sign of the head guard. as your last resort, you hurriedly rush across the ruined plaza, climbing over rubble as you descend into the village mines.
you find him there, tucked back in the main tunnel and slumped over as he holds a cloth over a gash on his side. his gloved hand fumbles with some medic supplies, though his shaky hold renders himself useless as they tumble to the floor.
“garroth,” you sigh, relieved but also annoyed by his insistence on never asking for help.
he flinches, caught off guard by the blood loss dulling his senses. even now, he stoically has every layer of his armor on except for his chest plate, even his helmet stays firmly against his skull.
“i’ll be alright, my lady,” he starts, though the pained wince he lets out a moment later immediately discounts him for his claims.
quietly, you approach him, kneeling in front of him and pulling the first aid items out of his grasp. while you can’t see his face, you hear him inhale sharply to protest against you. you silence him with a stern glare, to which he sinks back into the uncomfortable stone without a word.
“you are much too stubborn,” you chastise, reaching to his other hand to remove it from his wound. “your pride will get you killed.”
you cringe as he peels away the blood-soaked cloth to reveal a deep gash along his side. it's a slash and not a stab, thankfully, but it would still need stitches.
it seems he already knew that, based on the thread and needle he had yet to even tie together. while maneuvering the stitching thread into the eye of the needle, you listen to his shallow and shaky breathing underneath his helm.
“aren’t you having trouble breathing with that?”
“…no.”
your eyes dart up, narrowing at the eye slits of the metal in front of you.
“it's just me. i understand you want to hide your identity, but when it comes to your health—“
you lift your hands up to his helm, firmly placing them on each side before pausing, waiting to hear for any protests. when you hear none, you slowly lift the metal, sliding it off of his head and revealing what was underneath.
for just a moment you freeze, eyes locking onto his. his hair was a stunning sandy blonde that brushed over his brow line in soft curls. they stuck to his forehead, that had a sheen of sweat over it. you could tell his stunning eye color was dulled over by pain, eyelids drooping and his lips pale.
“…there,” you set the helm down, focusing back on his wound. “now you can breathe better, right?”
“…yes.” he winces, leaning back on your command and revealing his wound again.
carefully, you stitch the wound closed, lifting his linen shirt up enough to allow yourself to wrap the bandaging around his stomach. when you’re done you sit back, wiping your hands against your already dirtied clothes and releasing a deep sigh.
you look up, watching as his jaw clenches and his eyes dart to your feet. he still looks pale, but he at least looks more stable than before.
“garroth.” you call, voice barely above a whisper.
his eyes trail up to yours, hesitant and full of a strange sort of guilt.
“you did a good job protecting me. protecting the whole village. but even the strongest need help,” you take his hand in yours. “at least let one person take care of you in return. i was really worried about you.”
he doesn’t say anything, but you know he understands, swallowing down his deep-set need for independence to put himself in your shoes for a moment.
“there’s a cot down here. why don’t you rest, and i’ll bring you back some food and drink to help you regain your strength.”
𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄
you knew something was strange, when the beginnings of the evening cricket chirps grew silent, a heavy feeling settling around your cottage. despite the uneasiness and natural instinct that told you to run, you instead looked around the area for the source.
despite the lack of night critters, you notice a strange fluttering of butterflies dispersing from the other side of some shrubbery. you push through the leaves and twigs, noticing the further you advanced the more wilted the plants became.
on the other side was a man in strange armor you hadn’t seen before. the metal must’ve been smoldering hot, somehow, because the grass around it wilted and burned away from its touch. despite the strange sense of uneasiness in your chest, you take a few steps towards the man, his form slumped over a large stump.
“sir? are you alright?”
he flinches, hand moving unnaturally quick towards a large sword you didn’t realize he had by his side until now. you stumble back with a startled gasp, hands raising in surrender. dark circles line deep blue eyes, black hair stuck on his face where blood poured from a wound.
“i’m not an enemy!” you quickly say. “that injury looks bad, i can help. i’ll go get some bandages for you.”
you quickly run back to your cottage, retrieving your satchel of medical supplies before he could say a word. whoever he was, he seemed dangerous. and the faster you help him the quicker he’ll be on his way and the less likely anything else dangerous is led to you. when you return, he’s still there, though he’s propped himself up in a sitting position and leaning back against the stump.
“i don’t need any help.”
“well those wounds look pretty deep. and… you’re the one who ended up near my home, so,” you carefully approach him, heart beating erratically fast in your chest. it felt like you were approaching a predator—a wild animal pretending to be a man. “the faster i help you, the less likely whatever did this to you comes near my garden.”
his gaze stayed trained on you for a moment, piercing into you as you kneel next to him. his eyes were a beautiful shade, yet so strangely unsettling and dull. as you glance at them, it almost appears as no light shines from them at all. he smirks, a strangely amused laugh leaving his lips like he found your assistance to be completely entertaining.
“ah, there’s the motive.”
you ignore him, instead using a cloth to wipe away the blood from the side of his head.
“what’s your name?”
“what’s yours?”
you restrain a sigh, biting back the sarcastic quip you wanted to return and instead reciting your name back to him.
“…gene.”
“nice to meet you… gene. how did you get this hurt? are you…” you glance down at his strange armor and sword. “a guard, our some kind of soldier…?”
he says nothing.
“alright, then,” you clear your throat. “no more questions.”
you finish cleaning his head and neck, where another wound was, and carefully place the healing ointment you made from your own magicks herbs. trying to ignore the strange sense that you needed to run away, you finish up your work by placing bandages over the gashes… that seemed to already be healing pretty quickly.
“there. you’re set.”
a small, “thanks,” leaves his lips, and the two of you met eyes. he seems to contemplate something, before another huffing out another amused laugh.
“you’re very…naive. you should be careful.”
“…what?”
his hand is suddenly in front of your face, cold fingers touching against the skin of your forehead and dragging down, brushing your eyelids closed. somehow your eyes grow impossibly heavy, your head too much to hold up as you slump over, landing in the arms of ge…
…of…who again?
the birds chirp the next morning as you groggily wake from what felt like a coma of slumber. you feel like there was something important you needed to take care of, but you must’ve fallen asleep early last night. you must’ve been exhausted… you don’t even remember carrying yourself into bed.
oh, that’s right! you had to help… you had to… what was it you were up to last night?
your slump from where you sit, blinking at the floor in confusion.
it must not have been too important.
𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄
it’s terrifying, looking into blood red eyes where iridescent pale blue ones had been before. it had only been a split moment—you two were ambushed, a thief’s sword grazing against your cheek and knocking you backwards in surprise as a whole gang of them emerged from the tree line.
laurance suffered an arrow wound, but before you could panic it wasn’t his blood that soaked the ground… but instead the whole dozen of men who tried to attack you.
you stare horrified as dark red drips from him, unsure if it was his own or from the bodies around him. he’s breathing, so heavily, face turned away from you as he stills in the center of his carnage. a few moments pass like this, your eyes trained cautiously on the dulled shade of caramel hair that lays messily on his head.
“…laurance?” you call out quietly, your voice barely a timid whisper.
he turns to look at you, eyes red and glazed over as he begins to trudge towards you. something about the dark circles and his paled skin splattered with blood frightened you, your uncertainty heightened by his silence and now much taller frame. he towers over you, breaths heavy and sword still tightly gripped in his hand.
“it’s me!” you shakily yelp, regretting your reaction immediately when he flinches, eyes widening.
“…and i’m me.” he frowns, his larger hand brushing against your injured cheek. “you’re scared of me.”
“…no.”
he stares at you, eyebrows pinched together. he doesn’t call you out on your bluff with words, but the look he gives you is enough.
“i felt that something was off. i should’ve done something sooner.”
“it caught me off guard, too. we’re both tired, so—“
“i’m supposed to protect you. now you’re hurt.”
“it’s only a graze, laurance.” you silence his anger towards himself, your hands reaching up to cup his cheeks. “you’re hurt more than me.”
you reach in your satchel, pulling out some healing ointment and bandages you were sure to pack for the journey. he begins to shake his head, hand engulfing yours as he stops you.
“i’ll heal on my own. you know that shadow knights—“
“this will help you heal faster. and help with the pain.”
he sighs, taking a seat on a nearby rock and complying with your insistence despite the lack of need for it.
there were only a few gashes that were deep enough to not be sealed up immediately, dark red blood oozing from the lacerations. you put your focus on cleaning each one, swiping on the ointment and wrapping the bandages carefully onto his wounds.
when you look back up at his face those calm blue eyes have returned, staring back at you as they dart over your face. he takes the ointment from your hands, and with two fingers he motions for you to come closer.
you do so without much hesitation, allowing his finger to dip into the ointment and dab it across your injured cheek. he lingers his hand there for only a few moments longer, before looking away and putting your things back into your satchel.
“thank you, laurance.”
“stay right next to me,” he looks back up, tone and eyes insistent. “for the rest of the way. okay?”
it’s more of a demand than a request, but you simply nod in agreement, unable to refuse him.
“okay.”
𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒
“take your shirt off.” you sigh, sitting next to travis as you dig through your bag.
“woah!” he laughs, a cheeky smirk stretching across his face. “way to be direct.”
you pause, glaring over at him with an unimpressed stare.
“i will add to those injuries. just do it—“
“okay! okay!” he raises his hands up, wincing at the pull of his skin against his wounds. “ow…”
he begins to peel his bloodied tunic from his skin, wincing as he attempts to lift it over his shoulders. you restrain another sigh before you take a glance down at his injuries, instead feeling pitiful at the state he was in. standing in front of him, you help him slide the fabric over his head and off his arms, leaving his whole torso exposed.
a few previous scars litter across the skin, dipping into different divots of chiseled muscles. he was well built—he had to be for the large claymore he wielded—yet he was still lean, muscles standing out due to the low body fat he had.
“like what you see?” he smirks, catching your gaze that lingered a bit too long on his bare skin.
“no.”
he flinches at your quick refusal, jutting out his bottom lip.
“ouch, you’re so harsh.”
“why would i like seeing all of these wounds you’re covered in? you’re lucky it wasn’t any worse or you wouldn’t even be conscious right now,” you scold. “what were you thinking?”
“so you were worried about me…” he peeks up at you through his lashes, lips once again turning up in a satisfied smirk.
you roll your eyes, not saying anything as you begin to clean up his wounds. you can never catch a break with this guy, can you? despite his annoying flirtatious jokes, though, you really couldn’t help the worry and care you felt for him.
he hisses between clenched teeth as you accidentally press against a laceration too harshly, one of his hands reaching up to clasp against your wrist.
“a little more gentle, sweetheart.”
“sorry,” you mutter, shaking your head as you realize what you were thinking.
he doesn’t say anything, instead going quiet as you continue to patch him up. it’s not until you’re dabbing on ointment and healing potions that he speaks up again, his voice strangely soft and unsure.
“you were worried about me, right?”
you pause, glancing down at him. his eyes are strangely… pleading, cool green shining as he searches for an answer on your face.
you gently place your hand on the back of his head, running your fingers through the soft white strands and pulling him forward and pressing a kiss against his forehead.
“yes, i was. don’t be so reckless next time.”
when you pull away, his cheeks have turned a soft shade of red and his eyes have widened, practically bulging from their sockets. slowly, his jaw opens, mouth gaping as he starts to speak.
“you–”
“shut up.”
©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.
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