#potential steve harrington x reader

[izzysink]

𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎! 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 𝟷𝟽𝟺𝟿 ✎ 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑠: 𝑢𝑛𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑑 ✎ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ✎ 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝟷 ✎ 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝟸 ✎ 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝟹

𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑝𝑜 = @lanalosty0uu - you should totally check out their steve x reader time travel fic here on Tumblr!

I'm currently undecided on who to pair the reader with atm lol 🌝 but that means that it's kinda up to you 🫵 :0 if you have a character you'd like for the pairing, drop a comment and if I like them or feel it fits with the story I'll use them!! but!!! I won't write poly so you've gotta pick one 😔 ik ik it's a hard choice babes I know you can do it!! can you tell I like exclamation points

“I’m heading out! I’ll be back after my comp-sci class!” you call to your friend Hannah from the door of your dorm at Hawkins Community College, waiting a moment for a sleepy response from the pile of blankets at the end of your roommate’s bed. You shut the door, not bothering to lock it because you knew Hannah had a class pretty soon anyway. You whistle down the small corridor of the singular dormitory for HCC, checking your bag for the essentials; laptop, phone, charger, wallet, keys. 

You’d never expected to end up in Hawkins. Your parents had envisioned you going to an ivy league since you were little, enrolling you in extracurriculars and tutoring as soon as you could read and write; but you didn’t really want that for yourself, you weren’t the best at school - not the worst, but you weren’t yale level, like your parents wanted. After your parents insisted you only apply for places like Harvard and MIT, it didn’t surprise you that by the end of senior year you had no college to drive off to like so many of your friends. You had scrambled to find a place at any college that would take you, scraping the barrel for empty spaces, until a college from the middle-of-nowhere-Indiana, Hawkins, accepted you and your average test scores for a computer science course.

Walking to the campus, you check your phone, giggling at the bickering of your friends on the group chat and the tiktoks Hannah sent you last night. Hawkins Community College has its own campus, but it uses the old high school building as well (a new building was made for Hawkins High in the 2000s, and the old one went out of use until the community college picked it up and refurbished it for the Arts building).

You didn’t have any arts classes, but there was a little known shortcut through the old high school building to the main college campus, and you had made the route your little ritual of the week. It calmed you to walk through the old halls and be saturated in that old school smell and oil paints, getting to see unfinished paintings hung on the walls to dry or works in progress sat against the wall. There was a corridor on the way to the shortcut that was lined with shelving units, all stuffed full with bowles and sculptures and mugs. Your favourite little ritual was to see which ceramics had been kilned, picked up, or painted each week you had your comp-sci 101 class. 

This week, the swirling set of green plates you’d been eyeing for yourself had disappeared, whisked away by their creator. In their place sat an array of little figurines, you guessed they were for a board game of some sort with their angry poses and weapons, axes and magic wands held delicately in their hands. You were entranced in the precision and detail of the mini figures, quiet admiration floating in your mind as you continued on to your class.

The shortcut was just through a door on the left, it led into a small, little used drama room that had a back entrance door to the yard of the lecture building of Hawkins College. Checking your bun in the glass of the old classroom door, you made sure your claw clip was still in place as you opened the door and–

A chorus of sound burst from the dimly lit room, a small group of high school boys sat around a table in matching black and white shirts, a boy your age with a mop of curly hair sat at the head of the table on a plush armchair. The table was filled with dice and figurines and pens and paper, you guessed it was DnD, you had a couple of friends back home who played, and you’d even sat in on a couple of sessions with them before deciding it wasn’t for you.

As soon as you were noticed, all sound stopped, their faces turning to you in surprise. “Oh my god I’m so sorry,” you said, inching past the table towards the back door, “I didn’t realise this room was being used, I’ll be out in a moment don’t worry,” you flash a sheepish grin to the hoard of teenage boys gaping at you. Insecurity bubbled in your stomach a bit, they’re like 12, you thought, snap out of it, you’re in college now! 

Nobody replied, which you thought was a bit rude, but oh well, you had a degree to earn, and you probably wouldn’t see them again anyway. You opened the back door to head to the IT building, but when you stepped outside, it felt like you were sucked into an 80s time capsule, neons and shoulder pads and straight leg jeans assaulted your eyes from every corner. Also, why were there so many teenagers? The high school was a 20 minute walk away from the college. You got a couple of odd looks from some seniors, all decked out with massive hair and even bigger earrings, you could tell some cheerleaders were judging your outfit, which, rude, you thought you looked pretty cute today. You were wearing some baggy low waist jeans with the mini Ugg boots you’d gotten for Christmas a few months earlier, as well as a baby tee with a cute cat graphic on the front. To top it all off, you’d worn your favorite jacket and some little hoop earrings.

Walking backwards, you went back into the minor safety of the inside, at least the drama room had less kids having an 80s phase. You paused once the door shut with a click, looking around confusedly at the room you hadn’t noticed when you walked through seconds prior. You were pretty sure that whiteboard wasn’t there before, the same with that rack of costumes and those desks piled in the corner. The thing that caught you off guard the most was the writing on the whiteboard. There, marked in neat red pen, was the date 10/03/1986.

The hell? 

You tried to ignore the boys sitting around the table who were obviously staring at you as you fished your phone out of your bag, checking the date, yeah, 10/03/2025. You looked up and down from your phone to the whiteboard a couple times before awkwardly walking back to the other door. You’d take the long way then. 

You opened the door before immediately closing it again. 

Hell. No. 

“You okay there, princess?” your head snapped up to meet the eyes of the guy at the head of the table. Looking at him more closely, he looked like a total 80s metal head, crazy hair and rings on each finger. You mouthed a response, not really knowing what to say, I’m stuck in an 80s revival high school, surrounded by teenagers with big hair and all of the dates on the walls say it's 1986 when last time I checked it was 2025 and I’m late to my comp-sci class and-, you get the point.

Since you figured you didn’t have anything else to lose you asked, “sorry, um- where am I?” A younger boy, you guessed a freshman, with baby fat and a mess of curls made a face at your response, “Hawkins High?” he answered with a lisp blinking at you confusedly as you panicked over the new information. How could you have gotten from your college to a building 20 minutes away?

Scratch that, what the hell was going on?

“Okay, thanks,” you say distractedly as you think of what to do next, you look back to the eldest boy, you really needed to catch his name, “Do–” you were cut off by the bell, a lethargic pickup of footsteps outside the door telling you that it was lesson time next, not the end of school.

A chorus of groans rang out in the room as the boys got up dejectedly to get to their next class. You were swept up in the wave of kids exiting the room before you could get another word in edgewise and you found yourself back in the middle of an 80s tornado as the boys dispersed to their respective classes.

The one who had sat at the head of the table leant against the wall as you stood in the middle of the corridor, marveling at the disappearance of your favorite pottery shelves, instead replaced by school lockers and wall decals with various Hawkins High memorabilia. Students swerved around you, giving you odd looks and confused faces, you were clearly in the wrong place.

When the corridor emptied and the halls quietened, the boy spoke up, “I take it you’re not from around here? I’m Eddie,” you spared him a glance before introducing yourself. Don’t get you wrong, he seemed sweet and all, but your mind was a little preoccupied to engage in small-talk.

You decided to at least leave the school, it would be really awkward if a teacher found a college student just wandering the halls, but then again, looks like we’re in the 80s now, and from what your parents had told you about growing up in the 80s, most people wouldn’t care that much about some rando in the school.

You thought it better not to test your luck. “I’m… gonna go,” you tell Eddie, not waiting for a response before beelining it back the way you came. Navigating the hallways, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of wonder at how different everything looked, how there was still art on the walls, but done by different people, there were club posters smattered around the school, basketball tryouts were next week apparently, and the walls were almost pristine compared to the paint and grime smudged college block it had become almost 40 years in the future.

You sped-walked through the front office, trying to make it seem like you weren’t not supposed to be there, and burst into the midday sun, tension melting out of your muscles immediately once you escaped the high school.

You stood there for a few minutes, wondering what to do. You didn’t want to even think the utterly stupid idea that kept prodding at your mind. Worried that if you allow yourself to question it that you’d go insane. Not that this situation wasn’t already insane.

You heard your stomach rumble. Well, food didn’t seem like such a bad start.

𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑠! 🤍

[hungharrington]

thinking about getting fingered by Steve in the backseat of his car and being crowded against the door and sitting at an awkward angle but not moving because the thought of his fingers losing that spot is a million times worse than the sore neck… just UGHHH 😩

a hungharrington fic? in 2025? i'm just as surprised as you <3 1.3k, fem!reader, what the prompt says hehe MDNI this entire blog is 18+

The numbers on the dashboard blink in the night, reflecting the late night hour.

From the outside, Steve's car looks unassuming, parked in between the trees out by Skull Rock.

You're given away only by the faint fogging of the windows, though you have little doubt of how steamy they'll be soon enough. With the hot heat of Steve's mouth against the skin of your neck and the surety of his fingers, curling closer between your thighs, it's not an if, it's a when.

"God, I missed you s'much," He murmurs heavily. His words get smothered beneath his own fervent kisses, your skin tingling beneath the attention. He can't bring himself to break away from you for more than a moment.

Steve had headed out of Hawkins for the better part of a week, dragged by his parents who wouldn't take no for an answer. He'd returned just tonight, maroon car glinting the last of the evening sun up at your window.

You'd slipped down and taken the passenger seat always reserved for you.

And then, somewhere between there and now, Steve had cajoled you into the backseat, his hazel eyes bright with an adoring lust as he nipped at your neck.

"Missed you too," You gasp breathily.

Tilting back, your head gently hits the glass of the car window behind you. Your hair wipes some of the fog off and Steve nibbles a soft lovebite under your ear, soothing it with his tongue. His hands paw hungrily at your waist and you grapple to find purchase on his shoulders.

"Not as much as me, baby," Steve pants.

He finally pulls himself back from his affectionate attack on your neck, eyes darker, face flushed. His hand on your waist slides forward, following the line of your hips forward, down, til he's cupping your cunt. You think you get a little lightheaded from the way your blood rushes south, gloriously hot at the touch.

He kisses you, his groan seeping into your mouth. It fills your head, heavy and sticky with lewd thoughts.

"Thought of you every," He rubs you through the denim softly. "Damn," Another rub, more pressure this time. "Day."

You keen, hips canting forward, searching for more of that delicious friction. Steve gives you what you want; he always does. You reward him, your hands on his shoulders shifting. You twine your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, just how he likes it.

The inside of the car feels much, much warmer now. The windows can't be seen through anymore and it seems to cast the red light of the dashboard clock much further. Steve's heavy breath fanning across your face is the loudest thing in the car.

You should've worn a skirt, you think— right as Steve asks, "Can I?" his hand now up, thumbing at the button of your jeans.

His check-in douses the ember within you with gasoline, burning hotter, brighter, in an instant. You know what he's asking for, know exactly how well Steve knows how to use his fingers. The thought of them buried in you, crooked just right, suddenly has you aching for it.

Nodding, you murmur out your yes' as you shuffle about, working to kick off your shoes quickly. Steve pulls back to not be in the way, jumping back in time to help you peel the denim off from your legs.

You manage to get your fingertips beneath the elastic of your panties before you're interrupted.

"Keep them on," Steve says, knocking your hand aside. He surges back in, his fervour undulled, and his large hands find your hips, tugging forward.

You end up slightly perched in his lap, slightly pressed into the back corner against the window and the seat. It's an awkward position but when the warmth of Steve's fingers pet your cunt again, cotton stickier now, you can forgive it. You sling your arms around his neck to get closer.

"That's it," Steve murmurs lowly. He ducks his head to reignite every lovebite left on your neck as his fingers get bolder, pressing firmer. Your breath gets thinner, chest heaving more and more.

"God, my girl," He breathes, fingers spreading the wetness up and over your clit tantalizingly. You mewl at his too-soft motions, needing more.

"Steve," You urge.

He doesn't make you wait. Pinching the edge, he pulls your panties to the side and then dips his fingers into the well of slick wet waiting eagerly for him.

You make matching groans; Steve moaning at heat of your inviting cunt, wrapped around him, and you sighing at the way his long digit sinks into you, slow and so sweet.

"Steve," You say his name again, this time a honey, lusty thing.

Steve breaks his kiss to moan against your neck, feeding on the obvious salacious eagerness in you. His finger draws back and then he sinks it back in, beginning slowly to fuck it in and out.

"Missed you," He whispers. A second finger prods at your entrance and eases in gently, sending a streak of something white hot down your spine. Your arms around his neck tighten.

"Missed this," He continues, still a whisper. He's picking up the pace now, having found a lazy rhythm, fingers sliding in and out of your cunt so perfectly that it makes your clit twitch, envious and missing out.

You whine into the crook of his neck. "Me too."

Then, just as you think the angle of your back might be just a tad too uncomfortable, Steve curls his fingers.

A gaspy noise escapes your throat. Desire pulses wildly and you can feel the way you flutter around his fingers. Steve's other hand on your waist tightens, gripping you tightly.

"Fuuuck," He groans. "I missed that too."

Then he does it again, fingers crooked to hit that perfect spot that makes you feel like you might cry if he rubbed it too much. Your noises sound much louder now, jagged and pitching up.

"You're such a tease, honey," Steve accuses, his motions not slowing. "Keeping me from this. Keeping all your cute noises to yourself."

And, as if he'll know what it'll do, he stretches his hand, veins bulging in his forearm, and plants his thumb on your clit. You jolt against the new stimulation, another cute gaspy noise, and Steve moans against your neck.

His hand keeps moving, fingers still plunging into your sopping cunt, thumb rubbing tight, small circles on your clit. You cling to him, hips rolling to meet his strokes, the heat in you building, suddenly desperately fast. Your breathing comes out heavy and if it's not a moan, it's his name that slips from between your lips.

"Feelin' good? M' making my girl feel good?" He says raspily. "You deserve it, being left alone. So mean of me."

Something fiery swells within you and you inhale sharply, squeaking out Steve's name in warning. His hand, which must be cramping much like your poor back, still rocks into you, unfaltering.

"C'mon, let me have it. Please," He pleads. "Let me see you cum f'me, honey."

The sincere thread in his voice, the genuine plead, is what unravels your last ties. You tremble, lusty and quivering sounds that you bury away in his neck, as you ride his fingers through a dazzlingly hot high. It drags on, nerves glittering with a fresh coat of pleasure that have you whining Steve's name pitifully.

When your breath starts to settle, Steve eases his fingers out, already beginning to pepper little kisses along the side of your head.

"That was big, huh?" He says. It's mostly care in his voice but there, in the back, is a smidgen of smugness.

"Shhhh," You shush him, still gathering yourself, eyes closed. You body gives a volatile twitch when Steve politely moves your panties back to their original position. "I'm deciding if that was worth fucking up my back a little bit for."

Steve makes a wounded noise, realising that he'd had you crowded up in an uncomfortable position the whole time. He's a worrier. That's enough to make you lift your head off his shoulder, eyes lidded low.

"Mmm, decided." You hum, the pleased smile of post-bliss on your face. Steve softens at the sight of it, at your easy happiness. "Worth it."

[cherrychilli]

18+ Steve Harrington x Diner waitress! reader Casual 'relationship', idiots in love, mentions of a shitty ex and a shitty family, fingering, reckless driving. WC:3.2K

A/N: Okay so this was originally supposed to be a part of a potential AU that never panned out. Basically all you need to know is that a disgruntled Steve works for his dad, the crooked CEO in town and everyone is wary of the Harrington's. Except for you.

2.34AM.

You tuck your uniform into your locker, all too relieved to retire the robin's egg blue polyester and starchy white apron for the day. In its stead you pull on a dress. A midnight dark thing that hugged your hips and tended to skim up your thighs no matter how much you discreetly tugged it back down. Not at all suited for the temperature outside.

Doing your best with the little magnetic mirror that stuck to the inside of your locker, you peer into the rectangle bordered by cheap purple plastic, too small to reflect both your face and hair entirely.

Having spent almost a year working at Frank's 24/7 Dine In, you'd gotten used to doing your hair like this after work, angling your head in the tiny mirror every which way to fix your hair in sections. Retouching any makeup that had waned during your shift was a much easier task, thankfully.

You didn't wear much, just enough to help with drawing in more tips. The other waitresses had told you it would help on your first day, adding that some light flirting could serve you well too.

They were right.

From then on you carried a few new essentials with you to work, making sure to curl your lashes before you bat them sweetly at customers you knew to be harmless and applied some light lipstick to draw their eye whenever you laughed at their jokes and called them 'sugar'.

But tonight you didn't reach for your usual shade of lipstick, leaving it sitting inside your locker, untouched since the start of your shift. Instead, you swiped on some of that new lipstick you'd bought the other day, a deeper, prettier tone that suited the late hour.

You liked how it enhanced your natural lip color and the way it smelled faintly of vanilla, the same scent that clung to your hair after serving the diner's signature freshly baked vanilla bean cherry pie all day.

Plucking the tube off the display case yesterday, you could feel his breath puffing against your ear all over again as you unscrewed the stopper, the sweet aroma reminding you of his nose in your hair as he relentlessly rut into you from behind.

Fuck, y' smell nice.

It looked just as good on you now as it had when you applied it in your own mirror at home and under better lighting. The new makeup was a marginal change but a noticeable one still.

Too noticeable, you realized and your smile fell.

A few seconds of staring at your reflection and you wipe the lipstick away upon further thought, feeling a little silly that you'd bought the tube in the first place. The feeling only worsened as you stared at the smudged lipstick on the back of your hand, belly swirling when you remembered the other item you had zipped up inside your purse.

He's not your boyfriend. Get a grip.

The dress was one you had long before this all started and so was the sweet daisy perfume you spritzed onto the base of your neck. Your hair had remained the same too, afraid that if you were to change its style or color then you'd have to admit to yourself that you'd done it for him.

You go to close your locker shut, a margin of space remaining before you pause and pull it open again, looking resolute in your reflection.

Taking your place at the counter for the next couple of hours is poor, sweet Maggie, too drowsy to notice you approaching at first. Your dress is hidden under your overcoat but had she been more alert to notice the fresh layer of lipstick you'd reapplied, she would have rounded the corner with her usual chipper energy, gently nudging an elbow into your side before asking you, "so who's the guy?".

The sound of your footsteps eventually jolts her up but you've already got a hand on the front door, directing a friendly wave at her which she returns along with a yawn in your direction.

Steve's parked just beyond the bend, out of sight of the diner so that your coworkers can't see whose car you sometimes get into at the end of a shift. Although, you can rest a little easy knowing that most of them are too busy just trying to stay awake.

The engine kicks on when he sees you approach through the rear view mirror. Hips swaying, hair bouncing with every step, it was enough to make him smirk, letting out a soft, low whistle while you strutted over.

You watch the hand he has draped out the open window snake back inside, a cigarette butt flicked out into the dark a moment later followed by one last billowing exhale of smoke into the chill night air. Walking past the dying orange glint fizzing into ash on the wet grass, you find the passenger side door already unlocked for you.

Your little arrangement is going on five months now, letting him drive you home after your late shift at the diner. Often, he was the only one who came in around that time. He'd eye you discreetly over a cup of coffee when the other waitresses weren't looking, lighting up a cigarette your boss knew better than to tell him to put out. Then he'd leave and wait nearby for you to clock out.

This wasn't a relationship. Just something the two of you fell into to drive the numbness away. At least that's what it was in your case. Ever since your ex skipped town with the money you saved, you were left with no other choice but to work several shitty jobs to put yourself through the rest college. And sometimes that meant that you needed some kind of a release to work through all the stress that came with your many responsibilities. That's where Steve came in.

But when it came to him you could only guess what weighed on his mind although truthfully, you preferred not to find out. The rumors surrounding his family, particularly his father, were enough to make you keep your head down and out of the older Harrington's sight.

You know that getting involved with his son might be one of the riskier things you've done in your life but knowing how little Julian Harrington seemed to care about what his son did outside of managing his father's unscrupulous dealings was a relief. Even if it did make something deep in your chest crack to know how little affection Steve must have received in his life. How could he with a father who viewed everything and everyone in dollar signs and a mother who held more martini's in her jeweled, pristinely manicured hands than she ever held her own son.

Buckling in, it starts sooner than usual.

Your face quickly warms when his hand makes its way on to your knee. It excited you at first, considering it a precursor of sorts for what was to come but you grow to question it only five minutes later. You watch out of the window when instead of slowing down, he passes the dirt road leading to the isolated clearing he always parked at for an hour or more before taking you home.

"Can't stop today. They need me back in twenty", Steve explains before you have a chance to ask. Yet his hand still doesn't leave you. Instead, it slips higher up your thigh, dipping under your dress to rub at damp cotton, still showing no indication that he might stop after all.

"But you're driving..." you feel a little stupid pointing out the obvious, opening yourself up to the opportunity for him to tease you like he sometimes did. Only Steve doesn't resort to it, a silent desperation pumping in his veins, eyes pulling away from the road to drop between your legs.

"Need to feel you" he tells you. Begs you, it almost sounds like, pulling your panties and urging you to lift your hips so he could ease them down your thighs.

Whenever he gets like this you're never made privy to the specifics of what caused his mood, only that it had to do with his work and you knew better than to ask him more about that.

Your seatbelt pulls tight against your chest but as soon as you've managed to get your panties over your shoes and off, you leave them discarded and turned inside out on the footwell for Steve to discover later.

Consider it a present, you thought to yourself, feeling somewhat sorry and like you owed him for whatever's troubling his mind today.

One hand on the steering wheel and the other on you, he pulls your right leg over the console, grip tight on your thigh as he guides you into settling your ankle between his legs, close to his knee.

"Fuck, I can smell you...been waiting all day for this".

You don't reply, remaining silent because the sound of him enjoying you is much more exciting.

To be honest, you're not even sure if he knows that he's doing it.

Steve hums while tracing your wet slit, collecting as much slippery slick on to the pads of his fingertips. Then a soft growl winds its way up his throat while spreading you open to slot his middle finger between your folds, groaning but he doesn't slip it in. Not yet.

You can hear him even with the sound of the running car when his fingertips travel up to find your clit waiting for him just how he likes, all puffy and swollen and most of all, neglected. He rubs at it quickly and not entirely carefully with messy circles that have you sucking in a gasp, shuddering when a bolt of pleasure pulls your back into a pretty arch that has you pushing your chest out too.

The movement has him flicking his eyes to you again. Glancing at the way your seatbelt strains between your tits, looking at it so intensely like he might want to undo the restraint and press his face there instead.

It's easy to lose yourself when he touches you like this.

Almost as if you might lose your balance and slip off some unseen ledge, you clutch at Steve's arm over his jacket, a plush mahogany brown leather that probably cost more than what you made in a month. Sometimes you'd roll your eyes at all the expensive clothes, more than a little tempted to rip at them with your nails or teeth just because you could. Today it feels more like a necessity, so you dig your nails in and anchor yourself to him when you feel your hips begin to twitch.

"Y' know, I parked outside and watched you through the glass before I came in", he drawls, eyes flicking away from the wet, deserted street again and to his wet hand between your legs.

"Saw you watching the door, just waiting for me to walk in...you looked so lonely...rubbing your thighs together like you couldn't help it...poor pretty girl getting all worked up over me, huh?"

You guessed a while back that he liked to be needed.

And having felt the tacky buildup on slick himself, you can't deny having ruined your underwear over him even if you wanted to, all of that wetness just from waiting for that bell to chime and see him walk through those doors.

Steve pulls his fingers away from your cunt and you begin to whine from the loss until you see him taste you, eyes slipping shut for a brief moment before he's focusing on the road again, spit slick fingers finding their way back to your pussy.

Your head's pushed back against the headrest, hips inching forward to meet his digits.

"Put them in", you tell him, maybe a little too demanding because it earns you a slap right on your clit, quick and firm. You yelp and he scoff's playfully, hand cupping your cunt to feel you twitch from the brief impact.

"Please", you add this time, soft and sweet ."Feels so empty".

Steve wants to take it slow. He really wants to savor you but time's ticking tonight as he quickly glances at the flashy silver Rolex wrapped around his wrist. Maybe he'll get to treat you right next time so for now he begins to sink his fingers inside you, his middle and ring fingers smoothing along your walls.

Steve's eyes keep darting from the road and then to you, lips parting when he sees you bucking your hips into his fingers till they start to turn all creamy with you, riding his hand.

"That's it, keep going", he encourages you, curling his fingers enough to press them against that spot that made you gush and squirt during one of your previous hook ups.

"Wanted your cock tonight, Steve", you whined, circling your hips in a nice, fluid motion, working with the way his fingers are dragging inside you.

"Got all dressed up for you and everything..."

His eyes are on the road still as he takes a right but he can practically hear the way your lips have pushed out into a pout.

"I know", he coos. While he might not have made any mention of it, seeing you strutting towards his car in that dress had him fighting off a hard on.

"Make it up to me? please?"

Later, when you're sober and no longer drunk on lust you'll remember back on this as one of those moments where the walls you put up for your own safety crumbled down, too tangled in your building ecstasy to think straight.

He's not your boyfriend. Get a grip.

And yet something makes him set his eyes back on you.

"I promise", uttered softly in a barely there whisper.

It's the first time he's agreed to make any kind of commitment to you outside of hooking up after hours that you have to quickly bite your lip to stop a smile breaking out on your face.

Hearing him say it only makes you careen towards your orgasm much faster, too busy grinding your clit with renewed vigor into the heel of his palm to stop and analyze your own feelings and what they might mean.

"That's it. Don't stop".

You do as he says, hooking your heel in the crook of his Steve's knee when it happens, pleasure erupting deep inside you and spilling out of your pores because it's much too hard to contain.

Steve's BMW skids to a halt at the intersection by your place, no other cars in sight due to the late hour. You've got your eyes squeezed shut but you can still make out the flashing yellow traffic lights colored auburn through your eyelids, putting your whole body into grinding grinding grinding your clit against his palm.

The ache in his wrist is starting to turn hot and his bones click uncomfortably in his arm but he'd sooner let them fracture than pull his hand away while you wring out every little drop of pleasure you can out of his fingers.

You're a sight divine as he watches on. Sweat shines on your neck like a chain of the finest pearls, thighs soft and tight around Steve's hand like velvet, vanilla softly wafting in the air while your body shudders and quivers as you begin to come down from your climax.

Eventually your hips stop rolling, chest heaving while you reach between your legs to gently pull Steve's soaked fingers out from inside you when he makes no move to do it himself, your cheeks blazing at the lewd sound of a wet squelch as his fingers leave you.

That too he has no problem licking clean and all you can do is watch and gather yourself, try not to work yourself up again while he sucks you off his fingers.

He's hard. You can see it swelling under his jeans but when you make a move to place your own hand on him he gently takes hold of it and places it back on your lap.

"'s no time", he tells you and you frown. It just didn't feel fair to leave him that way even if he did insist. And it just didn't feel fair to be denied the chance to pleasure him like he did you. Especially given how much you wanted to.

It's silent during the few minutes it takes for him to pull up to your apartment building, all of Hawkins asleep and you wonder how you could possibly rest too after what's happened in Steve's car.

There wasn't usually all that much said when it came time to step out of his car. No proper goodbye. No confirmed promise of when the next time will be. All you could do was wait for your phone to chime with a message from him or wait until he turns up at the diner again.

But this time he surprises you.

Undoing your seatbelt for you, the warmth of Steve's had on your cheek feels too soothing to give up before stepping out into the cold, even if a little strange too. Neither of you are used to this side of him. Hell, neither of you thought he had such a side to him at all.

And you're too entranced to question it, when he pulls you close, his lips connecting with yours.

It isn't like you've never shared a kiss before. It's just that they only usually happened leading up to sex or during sex but tonight, he leaves you with something tender and new.

Pulling back, you see his lips tinted very lightly with your lipstick.

" 's pretty" he mumbles, thumb pulling at your bottom lip, unaware that you've left some of it on him too.

You beam, thinking back on how you almost didn't wear it. Thinking that he wouldn't acknowledge it or care.

You wipe it off his lips with your thumb before any of his business associates have a chance to see it and ask any questions.

And that's when you remember the other reason you were hoping for Steve to take your usual detour tonight. Stepping out on unsteady legs, you fit your hand into your purse, clutching the spare key in your pocket tight before pulling it out and taking a moment to prepare yourself.

"I have the night off tomorrow", you drop the key into the passenger seat through the window, watching it glint under the moonlight.

"If you want...", you trail. No amount of preparation could have readied you for this, you realize.

"I'll be up" you say instead, turning on your heel so you can rush inside before Steve can utter so much as a single word.

---

Waiting for the hours to pass the next day feels near unbearable, nervously pacing around your apartment and distracting yourself with chores when it starts to turn dark.

He's not your boyfriend. Get a grip. Once again makes a home in your head despite how unwelcome it is there. And when 11PM turns to 12AM to 1AM to 2AM again you blink back the sting of new tears, ready to unclad yourself from the lingerie you had on underneath your clothes and wash away the perfume and the make up and-

The front door handle begins to jiggle just then, the distinct sound of a key slipping into the lock follows and you're already smiling before he pulls the door open, flowers in hand.

[stevesherdaddynowlover]

pet names and looped pinkies pt.2 [s.h.] 18+

an: hiii me again :) literally one person asked for this so i ran to do it and ended up going a little crazy with it but oh well! hope you enjoy!! feel free to send suggestions or ideas or just chat :) also this is not edited i was too tired goodnight and god bless steve harrington

masterlist

summary: a part 2 to this in which you and steve are best friends but really you want more and are too scared to say it. (steve harrington x fem!reader)

warnings: okayyyy very anxious reader, bottling up our emotions, cursing, kissing, fluff, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, some spit, an almost blowjob, i think thats it??? 18+ MDNI!!!!!

wc: 9.6k

So what if you watched your best friend that you’re madly in love with get off in front of you! So what if you helped him! It was fine. Perfectly fine, right? 

Wrong. 

Your head was a mess, everything all jumbled up and you didn’t know how to sort through any of this. It had been three days since it happened and you’d been as normal as possible with Steve, answering his phone calls and eating with him on his lunch break. Everything was fine as far as he was concerned. It wasn’t until you climbed into your bed at night that your head started to spin, and not in a good way, your palms sweating and your chest feeling heavy. 

Confused. You were so beyond confused and frustrated with yourself over this whole situation. Confused because it had been one of the best experiences of your life and now your brain was picking it apart piece by piece and making your stomach turn and your head pound. Steve had said all the right things, all the things you’d wanted to hear for years, but you also had your hand on his cock so how much of that did he actually mean! Did he even remember it, want to remember it? What if he never wanted to do it again or even worse wanted to pretend like it didn’t happen? 

And frustrated. So fucking frustrated with yourself because these cruel, mean thoughts were based off nothing besides your own worries! They had no merit, but that did little to soothe the ache in your chest when you thought about your friendship with Steve. 

The rational part of your brain, what was left of it at least, knew that if you just talked to Steve that this could all be cleared up. He would listen to you ramble and maybe he had a good enough handle on his emotions that he could give you some clarity. You knew this. You knew Steve would never be cruel or malicious with you, especially about something like this. And a part of you even knew that despite how well you thought you had hid it, Steve probably knew just how much this, how much he really meant to you. 

But the much bigger part of your brain, the irrational part, held so much worry and fear about this potential conversation with Steve that you’d kept your mouth shut for the last 3 days. What if he regretted it? What if he didn’t mean anything he said and you were just there at the right time? What if this makes things weird and you lose your best friend? What if he just feels sorry for you? Does he know how you feel and decided to give you some attention out of…pity?

Your palms had little crescent shapes in them from where you had dug your fingernails, trying to ground yourself and failing miserably. Maybe this wasn’t a big deal. Maybe you were being dramatic and blowing this way out of proportion. Maybe Steve felt the same. But did you want to risk that? Could you? Because all you really knew at the end of the day was that you loved him. You loved him more than you ever thought possible, so much your heart felt like it could burst when he smiles at you or laughs a little too hard at something that’s not even funny. 

So you kept your mouth shut and tried to be as normal as possible. You kept that fake smile on your face and prayed that nobody noticed, or kept it to themselves if they did. You let Steve tug on your hair and loop his pinky with yours as if it didn’t break your heart a little more each time he did it. 

Any piece of him would be enough for you, it was better than not having any of him at all. 

                     ***************************

Steve could tell that something was up. He’d expected you to avoid him after that night and was pleasantly surprised when you answered his call on the second ring the next morning, smiling to himself and trying not to bounce on his heels like an overexcited puppy. 

But then he’d seen you in person. You’d come to Family Video on your day off to eat lunch with him on his break, giving him a quick once over when you first walked in but besides that…nothing. Maybe you were feeling a little shy, he could understand that. He saw the small smile you gave him when he pulled out two pb&j’s, one for him and one for you and it made his heart soar. He liked doing things for you, loved making you happy. 

He thinks he’d give you the moon if he could. 

Everything seemed normal so far, you were a little more quiet than usual but considering the circumstances he wasn’t too surprised by that. It’s when you’re sitting down with him in the break room that he notices. You’re talking now, laughing at his stupid jokes and teasing him like always, but it’s different. 

You’re here but you’re not. You’re not looking at him, you’re looking around him. You’re giving him smiles and giggles but they’re not yours. This is even worse than what he imagined because you’re trying to act normal. He can practically see your head spinning, thoughts going crazy behind your eyes and it kills him. It hurts because you’re keeping this from him. You’re hiding from him. 

If he’s being honest with you and himself, he’s been freaking out about this so he knows you’ve been too. But he thought you were good enough friends that it wouldn't have been weird to talk about it. He thought he made you feel safe and comfortable enough to confide in him. 

But maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he needed to try harder to make sure you knew that he was there for you. Always. That he’d do anything to make you feel safe. That you could come to him with anything and he’d listen without judgment. That he loved you.

“Do you wanna talk about it, honey?” He bit the bullet, hoping this didn’t blow up his face and praying to god you didn’t want to forget it had ever happened, he knew he sure as hell wouldn’t. 

“Oh..no-we don’t have to, I mean we can if you want but I’m fine. I mean, it’s fine, right? We’re good.” He knew he’d lost you, your eyes dropping to the floor to stare as your foot tapped nervously on the tile. 

“Later, then. We can talk about it when you’re ready, yeah?” The fucking Family Video break room wasn’t the place to have this conversation anyways but he couldn’t stand to see you pretending around him, acting like you were okay when you weren’t. 

He hated to see you pretending but he hated even more that he couldn't lean across this tiny table and kiss you. God he wanted to taste you again, to watch how your pretty pink lips got all swollen and slick and to feel how your hands tugged mercilessly on his curls while you dragged him closer to you. 

But he could be patient. He’d wait for you forever if that's what it took. 

                   ********************************

A party was the last place you wanted to be tonight, but when Steve had called you and practically begged for you to come, you found yourself agreeing before you knew what you were doing. As if you’d ever be able to say no to him. You did manage to tell him you’d meet him there, needing to give yourself some time to get your head on straight and pretend to be put together. 

You’re not even sure whose house this is, you didn’t recognize the address when it was given to you over the phone and standing on the front porch now in front of an open door with people and music pouring out of it, you think you’ve made a huge mistake. 

Despite the nagging feeling in your gut telling you to turn around and run back home, you think of Steve and you just don’t have the heart to not show up. Pushing through the crowd of people proves harder than expected, a grunt escaping when you catch an elbow or hip that almost knocks you over. You keep pushing and pushing until finally you’ve made it through and you’re face to face with Robin, a smile breaking out over her face before she’s rushing forward to pull you into a hug. 

She’s drunk, you can tell and she confirms as much when she pulls back and looks around to make sure no one is listening like she’s got some big secret. “Thank god you’re here! I don’t think I could take another second of Steve’s whining. We’re both three sips away from blackout drunk because I made it a game between the two of us.” She’s talking so fast and bobbing her head along that you can barely make out what she’s saying. But before you can ask her to clarify, she is. 

“Yep. Told him that everytime he mentioned you or asked about you we’d both have to take a drink. Bad game idea now that I think about it, tomorrow is gonna suck but it was worth it. He’s awfully quiet when he’s not blabbing about you. Jesus Christ I don’t even want to think about how many times I’ve heard the word bunny in the last hour and a half.” 

Your heart is thudding dangerously fast in your chest, a blush working its way up your cheeks and you think if you’d fall to the ground if it wasn’t for Robin still clinging onto you. 

Before you can even begin to dissect her words you’re pushed forward, a curse falling past your lips as you grip Robin’s arm hard enough to make her wince and curse at the person behind you. It doesn’t take long before you figure out who it is though. 

“There she is, there’s m’girl.” He’s right there behind you, arms wrapped around your waist and head tucked into the crook of your neck. You can feel his fingers digging into your tummy and his hair tickling your cheek as he nuzzles closer to you. His deep, gravelly voice sends a shiver down your spine and you can’t help but to relax into him, eyes fluttering closed as his words wash over you. 

He’s drunk, beyond drunk, and you know that but it doesn’t mean your thighs don’t clench at the quick, wet open mouthed kisses he’s leaving on the side of your neck before you can manage to pull away and turn around to get a good look at him. 

Turning around was a bad idea. Oh my god it was such a bad idea. Because when you do you’re faced with the sexiest, most devastatingly hot version of Steve you’ve ever seen in your life. 

Holy fuck. You’re fucked. So fucked. 

He has on a button up that hugs his arms so nicely you could cry, the first few buttons undone and showing off a patch of chest hair you didn’t know he had but is now making your eyes widen and fuck there goes another pair of panties. There’s a sheen of sweat over his neck and chest where he’s been dancing and his eyes are dark, pupils blown and almost crazed looking as he takes you in. Those lips you’ve dreamed about for weeks are parted just so, his tongue quickly swiping across his bottom lip and you’ve never seen anyone so perfect. Your hands are clenched at your sides as you drink him in, his hair a mess like he’s run his hands through it a million times tonight and his forehead and neck are slick with sweat too. Goddamn it. Goddamn this party and goddamn Steve Harrington for looking like that. 

You’re so caught up in Steve that you forget Robin is there, hell you’ve forgotten you’re at a party filled with people at all, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he’s looking like that or when he’s looking at you like that. Not when his hands are still on you and he’s giving you a smirk that would have any person dropping to their knees. 

Before you do anything too embarrassing you turn back to Robin who is now looking at you both like you’ve got 4 heads. “Rob, how are you getting home? I can walk you but I think you’ve both had enough fun tonight.” You ignore Steve’s whine from behind you, stomping his foot like a toddler at the prospect of having to leave. 

“Oh! Don’t worry about me, Nance is coming to pick me up. I just knew Harrington wouldn’t be concerned with anyone but you tonight so I called in for backup.” 

Looking back over your shoulder you see Steve with a shy smile as he gives you both a small shrug as to say “yeah and what about it”. Robin flies off before you can say anything else, assuming she’s seen Nancy or someone else she knows you turn back to Steve and take his hand in yours getting ready to tug him out the door when he stops you. 

“But you just got here, didn’t even get to have any fun with you, bunny.” He’s wearing an adorable little pout that makes you smile and you’re sure he won��t remember this tomorrow so you reach up to push his hair back, patting his cheek on your way. 

“You’re drunk, Steve. Like drunk drunk. I need to get you home and in bed, okay? We can do something tomorrow, promise, but I think you’ve had enough fun for tonight.” 

“Oh we’re going to bed? I can get behind that.” 

“You are going to your bed and I am going to my own bed tonight, Harrington.” You pinch his side to scold him but he doesn’t care, trying to come off as innocent as possible even though he’s got you reeling right now. 

If there’s one thing Steve knows how to be, it’s dramatic. “Ugh fine! But I am not leaving until you dance with me. Just one, baby, please?” 

“One, Harrington!” You huffed, pretending to be annoyed as he dragged you further into the crowd of people. You were too focused on him and the feel of his skin on yours to even pay attention to what song was booming around you. 

His hands were on your hips, yours wrapped around his neck as you swayed back and forth. You were almost positive this was not a slow song but you didn’t care. Everyone was practically dry humping around you, but when he flashed you that ‘King Steve’ smirk you couldn’t help but to smile back, shaking your head at him. 

He pulled you closer to him, leaning down to talk to you over the loud music and chatter from the people pressed in on every side of you. 

“So pretty, you know that?” 

“You’re drunk, Steve.” 

He scoffed, acting like that offended him. “And? That doesn’t make it any less true.” 

Rolling your eyes you just shook your head, trying to look at anywhere else but him. It was hard acting like his words didn’t make your heart skip a beat, but he was drunk and now was not the time to dive into this. 

Gripping your chin between his fingers, your eyes were brought to his. “M’serious. Don’t roll your eyes at me like it’s silly. You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

Words stuck in your throat you didn’t know what to do besides look at him and why the fuck did it feel like you were about to cry. All you could do was nod, pulling back to create some sort of space between you two. You needed to breathe, to think and you couldn’t do that pressed up against him. 

“Your one dance is up! Let’s go, Harrington.” 

Dragging him behind you was like trying to drag a toddler out of a candy store. He was pouting, dragging his feet behind you and making this as difficult as possible. “Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what? Your name?” 

“Harrington. Don’t call me that, I don’t like it, like it when you call me Stevie.” You didn’t say anything, just kept walking. This was going to be the longest ten minute walk of your life. He took your silence as his cue to keep going, “I keep thinking about it—your hand on my cock, I mean. Can’t even tell you how many times I’ve got off to it in the last few days. And your lips, oh my god, your lips. Takin’ up all the space in my brain, pretty girl.” 

“Steve!” You turned around and smacked at his chest. “We are not talking about this when you’re almost blackout drunk, alright? We’re taking you home. That’s it, you hear me?” 

“Yes ma’am!” He saluted you, doing a poor job at keeping his amusement at bay. It’s quiet between the both of you for the rest of the walk, up until you’re at his door and fumbling for his keys that he’s dangling above your head like it’s a game. 

“I’ll give you the keys if you promise to talk about this with me.” 

“Sleep outside for all I care!” 

“Oh cmon, please? Pretty please? You’re acting weird with me and I may be drunk but I’m aware enough to know I miss you, even if you’re right here.” 

Alright so maybe you hadn’t done a good job of pretending to be normal. Or maybe Steve just knew you better than you thought, which was scary. You needed to rip the bandaid off. Push your fears aside and try and work this out so you don't feel so miserable and alone all the time. 

“Tomorrow, okay? Go inside and get some sleep and I promise I’ll come over tomorrow and we’ll have a real conversation about this. I swear, Steve but we cannot do it while you're drunk off your ass.” 

Your ass that looks amazing in these jeans, might I add.

He huffed like a petulant child, rolling his eyes and dropping his keys into your open palm and moved aside so you could finally open the door. Pushing the door open you shoved him in, making sure he didn’t fall and then stepping back onto the porch. 

“I’m going, okay? Go drink a big glass of water and then go to bed. I’ll see tomorrow.” 

He flashed you one of those lazy smiles that made you melt, giving you a little wink as he leaned against his doorframe. “G’night, bunny. Can I get a goodnight kiss?” 

“Goodnight, Stevie.” 

All you heard as you walked down his steps was his laughter and the door closing, porch light turning on so you could see. You waited on the sidewalk until you were sure he locked his door. 

You were fucked, as per usual. 

                *********************************

It’s an hour before you’re supposed to be at Steve’s and you feel like you’re gonna throw up. You’ve spent the whole day pacing around your room and picking up the phone every fifteen minutes to cancel on him. 

But you can’t. You promised. And you’re cursing yourself for swearing anything to a drunk Steve, especially because he shouldn’t even remember it but of course he did! He called you bright and early, far too early for how drunk he had been, and reminded you about your “date” as he’d called it. 

You’d thrown on one of his t-shirts because the smell of him surrounding you was the only thing keeping you sane right now. You didn’t have the energy to get dolled up for him, too nervous about tonight to even think about it. 

You’ve gone back and forth about a million times on what to say and you’ve decided on the truth. You’d tell him you liked him as more than a friend, that you didn’t want to lose him but didn’t want to keep it from him anymore. 

And you’d hope for the best. 

God you were definitely gonna throw up. You’d cried probably five times today already, your hands had been shaky since you woke up, and you slept like shit. But you couldn’t keep going like this. Having little pieces of him was enough, at least you thought it was. But it wasn’t healthy and it wasn’t fair to either of you. 

The clock ticking away was taunting you. You needed to leave now and for the first time today your feet didn’t want to move. Cmon, be a big girl. 

                   ******************************

The walk to Steve’s was quiet but your mind was anything but. You were staring at his front door now like it would bite you if you got too close. He must have had a sixth sense, or he was watching from the window like a puppy because one second you're staring at his door and the next it’s thrown open and he’s there. He’s there and he’s beautiful and he’s glowing even though he should be glued to the bathroom floor from how much he drank. 

“How ya feeling, Harrington?” 

He tugged you in and closed the door behind you, that pout you’ve grown to love staring back at you. “Told you not to call me that, didn’t I? It’s Stevie to you.” 

He tried to pull you into him but you slipped past, running into the living room and plopping down on the couch, hearing his footsteps follow after you quickly. He sat down on the opposite end and you must have been frowning at that because he was quick to speak up. 

“I’m only sitting so far away because I actually want to have this conversation and if you’re too close to me I won’t be able to focus, honey. Don’t frown at me.” 

Eyebrows raised, you stared at him. He’d always been blunt with you, openly flirty but sometime in the last few days a switch had flipped with him too. You always thought it was casual but now he’s saying things that make you feel like he might want this too, might want you. 

“Oh, um, alright. That makes sense, I guess.” 

It was quiet and you were quickly realizing you weren’t the only one that was nervous. His fingers were running along the stitching of the couch and your hands were twisting in your lap. 

Fuck it, it was now or never. “I’m gonna start, if that’s okay?” He nodded at you and you cursed yourself for speaking up. But maybe if you just pushed it all out as quick as possible this would be quick and painless. Or maybe the ground beneath you would open up and swallow you whole. 

“I’m gonna say this and then we can go from there. I like you. A lot. More than best friends like each other. I don’t think best friends give their friends handjobs either but we did that and anyways I like you. If you don’t feel the same way that’s fine, I’ll get over it. I just don’t want to lose you, ya know? I get it might be awkward at first and it might take time but you’re just so important to me. The most important person in my life. And you’re so good, so special I would just be really sad if I didn’t have you. But it wasn’t fair to me or to you to keep it from you so here I am. Saying lots of shit. But the point is I like you and I want you anyway you’ll have me.” 

You were sucking in quick breaths by the time you finished, taking your quick and painless approach a little too far. You don’t think you actually took a breath during that little speech and that wasn’t doing anything to help with the lightheadedness you were already feeling. 

He was dead still and quiet beside you and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. Okay…maybe you had completely misread this situation. The longer it took him to speak the worse you felt. Maybe you could make it to the door before he even noticed you were up? He seemed stunned. Maybe you could make it? 

“Don’t run.” 

Could he read your fucking mind? What the hell was that? But you obeyed, still looking straight ahead and didn’t dare turn toward him. God this was horrible. There was a reason you kept your feelings all bottled up, because there was a chance it would go like this! You let them out and you feel even worse than you did before. 

“I’m sorry I’m not saying anything but I’m a little pissed off and trying to find a way to say this that doesn’t come out mean,” 

wait—what? Oh god. If you were lost before you were gone now. Pissed off? About what? “I’m pissed off because it sounds like you're writing this off as nothing before I’ve even been aware there was something there. And I’m pissed at myself because I’ve done a pretty shit job at showing my feelings for you. I thought it was obvious I was obsessed with you, but it seems you didn’t pick up on it and I’m pissed we wasted so much time tip toeing around each other when you could have even officially been my girl for a long time now.” 

You didn’t even know where to start with that. Where to even begin unpacking what he had just thrown at you. A little part of you wasn’t totally shocked but you’d really just done such a good job at convincing yourself it was one-sided that you felt like you’d just gotten a bomb dropped on you. 

“I…well I just thought you were that way with everyone.” 

He looked at you like you were stupid, and maybe you were. Your brain was trying to catch up to what had just happened and was doing a shit job when he looked at you as if it was common sense that he felt that way. 

“Have you ever heard me call anyone else baby, or sweetheart, or honey, or anything like that?” 

“Well no, but—”

“Am I ever hanging all over anyone else? Trying to get their attention and be as close to them as possible? Tugging on anyone’s hair or holding their hands or making them cuddle me?”

“I mean not that I’ve been but Stevie—”

“You haven’t, because all that shit is reserved for you, baby. I only call you those names, mainly because I love to see your cheeks get all pink. I only touch you like that. Only want you on me. I get so fuckin’ jealous when you’re looking at anyone else. I tug on your hair like a toddler just so you’ll look at me or tease me or scold me. You get that? It’s only you. I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear enough but I fuckin’ swear. You’re my best friend but you’re so much more. You’re my girl, my bunny, aren’t you?” 

One second you were feet away from him on the couch and the next you’re launching yourself across and into his lap so quickly he barely had time to wrap his arms around you before your lips were pressed against his. It was hot and messy and urgent as if one of you would disappear at any moment. 

“M’sorry, Stevie. So sorry. It’s not you, it’s my brain. I just get so scared and I just care about you so much I just…I convinced myself you didn’t want me that way and I got so deep in those feelings I wouldn’t let myself see any different. And I didn’t bring it up, I hid it from you and I’m sorry. Oh my god, I’m sorry.” 

You’re a mess in more ways than one, emotions all over the place and a million thoughts racing through your mind as you kiss him all over, desperate to be as close to him as humanly possible. 

“Shh, shh, don’t be sorry, baby. Nothing to be sorry for. I get it, but now you know that you can talk to me about this stuff, right? We’ll work through it together and figure out the tough shit. I’m not going anywhere. You got me, okay? I’m all yours, always have been.” 

Nodding against him was all you could do, too overwhelmed and wrapped up in everything him to think about anything else. He was so sweet, too sweet. He understood you, cared enough to make you feel seen and heard and god it might not the right time but you didn’t care, all you could think about was being with him, close to him, anything you could get. 

He was yours now and you would not waste another second. 

“Take me upstairs, please.” The words mumbled against his lips but he heard them loud and clear, his hand grabbing yours and dragging you behind him like a rag doll.

He’s barely got the door to his room closed when you’re pushing his back against it, dropping to your knees in front of him and fumbling your way through trying to undo his pants. You know you seem desperate but you are desperate. You’ve never wanted someone like you want him and you think that if you don't get your mouth on him in the next five seconds that the world might actually end. 

He’s cursing above you, hands hovering like he doesn’t know where to put them before the land in his hair, head falling back against the door as he squeezes his eyes shut. 

Somehow between your quick moving hands and some help from Steve you manage to unbutton his pants, wiggling them over his hips and whimpering at the way they catch on his thighs. Neither of you bother with getting them off, far too occupied with how he’s straining against his boxers. His hands move for them but before he can you’re leaning forward, kissing the outline of his cock through the material and the noise that leaves his mouth is enough to have you moaning against him. 

Your knees are already feeling sore against the hardwood floor but you think if he keeps making noises like that you’d stay here for hours. 

Chancing a look up at him while you place kisses up and down the length of him you’re met with his eyes instantly, a pained look on his face as he stares down at you. You leave one last kitten lick through his boxers before you pull back enough to really see him. “Are yo- are you okay? Is this not…am I not..I haven’t done this in awhile so I’m not sure if it’s any good, I’m sorry.” 

He’s got you up to your feet so fast it makes you dizzy and he’s suddenly looking at you with a look so serious you’re scared you’ve fucked this up. All because you wanted his cock in your mouth damnit! 

Before you can apologize again he’s gripping your arms, forcing you to look at him. “You are perfect, that was perfect and fuck I can’t even believe I’m actually turning down the chance to have your pretty mouth on me but I think if you did I’d cum instantly and that would be really embarrassing. So as much as I want it, and believe me baby I want it, I need this to last more than two seconds, alright?” 

The initial sting of rejection is quickly replaced with a feeling of pure lust, a craving for him so strong that it makes you falter in front of him. You can’t help the small pout on your lips, you’d really wanted to taste him, to watch him fall apart above you! 

“Don’t pout, honey. Y’can have my cock whenever you want. But right now all I’m worried about is making you feel good, okay?” He tugs your bottom lip with his thumb and you smile shyly, lips puckering against the tip of his finger and leaving a small kiss there that makes him smile fondly. 

But then an idea sparks and you decide if you can’t taste his cock you want to taste some of him at least. You watch with satisfaction as his jaw goes slack, eyes widening when you part your lips around his thumb, taking it deeper into your mouth and showing him what he's missing by denying you what you really want. Both of you stand there quiet for a moment, you just barely bobbing your head on his thumb and moaning around it when he presses down lightly on your tongue. He’s cursing under his breath, pulling his thumb from your lips with a pop and dripping your chin that’s now slick with your own spit. 

“Greedy girl. So needy for cock you’ll stand here and suck on my thumb. S’kinda desperate don’t ya think, baby?” 

Under any other circumstance you think you’d be crying from embarrassment but even though his words are teasing, the way he’s looking at you is anything but. He’s got a mean mouth but his eyes are telling you how much he loves it, how lucky he is, how he’s just as desperate if not more. 

“Just yours,” His brows are furrowed and a piece of hair falls over his forehead and you clarify quickly, feeling a little shy under his stare, “just your cock, Stevie.” 

Realization dawns on him he feels a twitch in his boxers as he stares at you, lips messy with spit and eyes dark just like his. “Just for me, huh?” He can’t even make the adoration for you, a warm sensation running through his body as you nod at him with pink cheeks. 

He doesn’t think there’s anyone as perfect as you and the fact that you’re standing here, telling him you need him—fuck how did he get this lucky? There must have been a glitch in the system, some sort of blip but he wasn’t complaining and wouldn’t question it with you hanging on him like you were. 

Determined to show you that he was just as needy for you, wanted you just as badly he took your shoulders, gently pushing you until the back of your knees hit his bed. You fell back with a plop, moving yourself back when he nodded his head at you in encouragement. 

Hungry didn’t even begin to describe how Steve was looking at you. He was staring you down as if he wanted to devour you, and you’d let him. No one had ever shown any interest in going down on you and it had become something you’d just kind of accepted you wouldn’t experience.

Steve was going to change that. 

“Can I, baby?” His hands hovered over your shorts. You’d come over in these and one of his shirts, not caring enough to get dressed up when your goal was to get it all off as quickly as possible. “Need to see your pretty little cunt, bet she’s aching for me, yeah? But she’s all wet and needy and begging for my attention, isn’t she, bunny?” 

Jesus Christ, he had a mouth on him. His words alone had you clenching around nothing, hips lifting as you nodded quickly so he could pull your shorts down. He left your panties on and you cursed, a wave of embarrassment flooding through you, mostly because you knew he’d see how wet you were, how wet you had been for weeks because of him. 

Shorts thrown somewhere on the floor behind him your thighs closed quickly, head resting on your shoulder as you leaned up on your arms for support. You’d need all the support you could right now. But Steve wouldn’t have any of that. His tongue clicked, a reprimand for depriving him a look between your thighs when it’s all he’d been thinking about for months. He knocked your knees apart and if you weren’t so desperate to see his reaction your head would have fallen back on the bed. 

You’d have thought it was Christmas morning the way he was grinning. Or as if he had just won the lottery! And to him, he had. 

“Messy messy girl. Poor thing, I’ll have to fix this, yeah?” 

It was all you could do to nod at him and it was only seconds later that he dove in, taking one long, slow lick up the front of your panties, pressing a gentle kiss where your clit was that had you falling back and throwing your arm over your eyes. He was gonna be the death of you. 

Apparently that one little taste was enough to dissolve whatever will power he had left because in the next ten seconds your hips were lifted and panties were practically torn down your legs. He took no time at all getting himself back between  your thighs, hands on either one holding them apart so he could bury his face there. 

If it didn’t feel so good you’d be pissed that this was what you’d been missing out on, but when Steve was sucking your clit into his mouth with the right amount of pressure to have you seeing stars, or using his fingers to stretch you for his cock, you couldn’t have cared less about anything or anyone else. 

You’d also never seen Steve so quiet. Well, he wasn’t exactly quiet, you could feel his muffled moans and pleas against you as you gripped his hair in your hands and pulled him closer, but he was more content than he’d ever been. 

You’re not sure how you manage any thoughts, let alone words right now when he’s making you feel so good and you can feel that burn in your tummy that tells you you’re close, but you still find it in you to tease him. 

“Can’t believe this was all it took to shut you up, should’ve done this ages ago.” It doesn’t come out as clean and quick as you wanted, it takes about 30 seconds to manage the words. But you’re proud of yourself for teasing him but immediately regret it when he pulls away, a whine leaving your throat as you try and tug him back. 

“Y’sure you wanna be mean to me when it’s my mouth you’re grinding against?” 

His words ooze with confidence and you know it’s well earned because he’s got you in the palm of his hand. You take the opportunity to get a good look at him, eyes almost black and hair all messy from where you’ve pulled and tugged for the last 15 minutes. He’s wearing his signature smirk and you gasp at his swollen lips and chin that’s quite literally dripping wet with you. 

“M’sorry, sorry. Please keep going, I was so close.” He doesn’t make you beg, even though at this point you’d get on your hands and knees if he asked. He goes right back to work, picking up the same pace and you know it won’t take long before that burn in your belly engulfs you completely. 

He takes instructions well, groaning his acceptance when you tug him back to your clit, nodding his head in understanding. “Gonna cum, gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum, Stevie,” You’re babbling now, hoping he can make out some of your words as you move your hips faster and harsher against him, chasing your own release. 

You can’t hear what he’s saying but can feel his mouth moving against you. He never truly shuts up. And you don’t know it but he’s begging for you to cum. It sends you over the edge anyways, thighs closing around his head tightly as you gasp and your body locks up. It’s too much and not enough, you’re buzzing from head to toe and then you feel him helping you through it, small little licks to your clit, his hands rubbing at your trembling thighs as you try and catch your breath. 

“Fuck” Steve might have said it, or it might have been you, you’re not sure. Chest heaving you can’t do anything but stare at the ceiling above you, trying to get your heart to slow down so you can make sense again. 

All of a sudden your line of sight is cut off by a mop of brown hair and two sparking eyes hovering over you, a smile so big you’re sure his cheeks must hurt. “Best meal of my life, baby.” His chin is still wet and you move your hand up to collect some on your thumb, sticking it in your mouth with a hum and he doesn’t waste any time before he’s diving down to press his lips against yours. Tasting yourself on his lips makes you moan and it’s then you feel his cock against your stomach, hot and slick and begging for attention. 

Pulling away you look down between you and see that sometime between getting you on the bed and making you cum he’s taken his boxers off. When you look back up to him he smiles sheepishly, 

“Sorry they were diggin’ into me and I was about to go crazy. But I can…I can put em back on. Don’t want you to feel like we have to do anything else, I’ll happily go back between your thighs and spend the rest of my life there, if you’ll let me.” 

Grabbing the back of his neck you pull him down until your foreheads are pressed together, shaking your head at him like he’s crazy. “Stevie, not to be too forward but I refuse to leave this room without you fucking me.” 

He laughs. It’s loud and it makes you giggle and your noses are bumping against one another and he’s pressing kisses to your cheeks and the corner of your mouth and he’s backing up just enough to get a good look at you, “Thank fucking god.” 

Steve was big. Not that you were complaining but damn you were a little worried about how that was going to fit inside of you. A little part of you was worried about him fitting but a bigger part of you just really wanted this to be good, for both of you. It was cliche but you wanted fireworks and passion and to feel him for days after. 

You weren’t a virgin, you’d been with a few guys over the years and sex for you had always just been…okay. Yeah, sometimes it was good, but it was never how you’d read in books or heard on tv shows and movies. Steve didn’t know it but he had just given you your first orgasm by sometime other than yourself! It had never been the mind blowing, toe curling experience you thought it would, but if anyone was going to break the standard, it was Steve Harrington. 

He must’ve seen the worry on your face, moving to lay beside you with his hand rubbing comforting circles on your hip. “You sure you wanna do this, sweetheart? Say the word and we can watch a movie or get late night pizza, whatever you want.” 

“Can this be one of those times where I say a bunch of shit and you don’t judge me or laugh? Just listen to me.” He nodded at you, all hints of teasing and playfulness gone. You’re sweet Stevie. 

“Ok, so, right okay—so I’ve had sex before and it’s been alright but I don’t want alright with you. I want hot and sweaty amazing sex that I’m gonna think about for the rest of my life, ya know? And I don’t doubt that you can deliver, trust me I’m sure you can,” you lean towards him as if you’re not the only ones in the room—the house, and whisper like it’s a secret, “you’ve seen your dick, right? That thing is massive and you seem like you know how to use it!” You sit back up then, only a little embarrassed at your rambling before you continue, “so I guess I’m more worried than I won’t be able to deliver and I just really like you and want this to be good for you and I think I’d never recover if you didn’t have a good time and—”

He stops you with a hand over your mouth, eyes wide and a small smile playing on his lips as he stares at you. “Take a breath, baby. Now.” 

Your mouth drops open as soon as he removes his hands, your mind going black at the tone of his voice, so stern and deep. But you do as he says, taking a deep breath and holding it for a few seconds before letting it out slowly, looking to him for confirmation that you’ve done something right. 

“Good girl, there ya go. Now, I didn’t want to cut you off but you were gonna run out of air if I didn’t. It’s my turn to talk now and you’re gonna listen, right?” You can’t help but just nod at him, your mind trying to catch up to your body as his words sink in and wash over you. 

He rubs his thumb against your cheek to soothe you and it does the trick, your pulse calming down enough that you can breathe again. 

“You do remember about half an hour ago when I stopped you from putting this pretty mouth on my cock because I would’ve cum in seconds, right? Because I’m sorry that I haven’t made it clear to you that this is already the best experience I’ve ever had. Fuck, baby, having your hand on me a few days ago was the highlight of my year. Eating your sweet little pussy is gonna get me off for the rest of my life. This is only good for me because it’s you. You hear me? You don’t need to be nervous or worried about me enjoying this, I swear to you I’m havin’ the time of my life.” 

You don’t realize you’re crying until he’s wiping away your tears with his thumb, cooing at you and making your heart thump so hard you can feel it in your toes.

“I love you, ya know.” 

This time it’s his turn to be stunned into silence but it only lasts a few seconds before he’s kissing you, or he’s trying his best, it’s hard to kiss when he’s smiling so big against your mouth. “Oh I know, and I love you too, more than anything.” 

You feel like a teenager, giggling and peppering kisses all over his cheeks, so in love and just so breathtakingly happy it’s almost unbelievable. You feel silly now that you ever worried about anything, not even he’s so perfect and sweet and kind and yours. He’s worth every minute of panic and stress though. 

Then he opens his mouth and you remember that you’re still embarrassingly wet and that he’s still throbbing against your hip. 

“And don’t worry about my cock, bunny, we’ll make it fit.” 

His thumbs slide under the band of his boxers and he looks to you, making sure it’s okay that he finally peels them off. When you nod he wastes no time in dragging them over his hips and down his legs until he’s kicking them off and onto the ground, both of you letting out a sigh of relief. 

You thought Steve’s cock was pretty the first time you saw it but that’s nothing compared to now. He’s painfully hard, tip red and leaking, smearing precum where it lays twitching against his belly. You hold a little resentment toward him now for not letting you put your mouth on him. You think there might even be some drool on your lip as you look at him. 

He’s watching you stare at his cock and trying not to cum on the spot, hands clutching his comforter do tight he might rip it. He has to move his eyes away from you so he can attempt to focus, too worked up to really make any sense right now. 

“Honey how do you…what do you think would be better for you?” He wants this to be as painless for you as possible, only wants for you to feel good. He’d twist into a pretzel if he thought it would be better for you. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll be on top. I think that’ll be best so I can um—I think that’ll be good for me.” He’s not totally sure that his eyes don’t cross at the thought of you riding him, he has to pinch the bridge of his nose hard just to right himself. 

You urge him to scoot back so he’s laying down, head resting against the headboard, legs stretched out in front of him. You move yourself to straddle his thighs, worried that you won’t be able to think straight. In a flash of bravery you whip off his t-shirt and watch as his cock twitches and his mouth drops open. His hands immediately find your painfully hard nipples, tweaking them softly and watching as your stomach clenches when he does. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ tits, swear to god. Jesus Christ you’re gorgeous, honey. All of ya, every inch.” 

“Can’t wait anymore, Stevie, need you in me please.” The words are barely out of your mouth before he’s reaching towards his nightstand and you don’t know what comes over you but before you can stop it you reach out and grab his arm. Neither of you say anything, staring each other down and waiting for someone to speak, to move. 

Fuck. You don’t know why you did that, obviously you should use protection. But…you’re on the pill and haven’t been with anyone in what? A year and a half? And the thought of feeling him…all of him—fuck you know it’s stupid but you can’t care about it right now when he’s so pretty and his cock is so pretty and you just want him. 

He speaks before you muster the courage too, voice sounding strained, “Baby..are you saying…are you sure? It’s been awhile since I’ve been with anyone and m’clean I swear but—fuck are you sure?” 

“M’sure if you are. Just wanna feel you, Steve.” 

He could weep. He could fall to his knees and weep. Here you are, prettiest girl he’s ever seen and not only do you even want to have sex with him but you want to do it raw—fuck he wasn’t gonna last. 

“Fuckin’ unreal, you are unreal.” 

Instead of answering you took the opportunity to move forward and hover over his cock. Some of your confidence drained, all of this feeling much more real now that he was inches away from you. But you knew there was nothing to be scared of, this was Steve. Your Stevie. There was no one else you trusted like him and you knew he’d take care of you above anything else. 

He took hold of himself, moving down a little so he could run his tip up and down your slit, coating his cock and hissing at the contact. Your grip on his shoulders stuttered when his tip bumped against your clit and you swear your whole body shuddered. 

“Feels good doesn’t it, baby? I’ll just hold still and you go at your own pace, we’ve got all the time you need.” You lifted up a little, his tip nudging at your entrance and as you sank down your lips fell open into a silent moan. Your eyes were shut but you could feel Steve watching you and you could feel his grip on your hips tightening as you moved painfully slow.

“Doin’ so good baby, so so good.” You preened under his praises, body relaxing as you opened up for him. You knew it would be a stretch, but it was good. The burn of him filling you up turning you on even more, if that was possible. Being this close, this full of him made you feel light headed in the best way possible. 

It took a few minutes but now you were fully seated, your hips pressed together as you dug your fingers into his shoulders, trying to keep your composure. It was overwhelming in the best way, your body on overdrive as you tried to accommodate all of him. 

He looked like he was overwhelmed too, little puffs of air coming out of his nose and his eyes screwed shut. He was still, not moving and for a minute you were worried but when you moved on him, his eyes flew open and his hands grasped your hips tight. 

“Wait, wait wait, baby—fuck. You gotta…I gotta…just don’t move. Please. Gimme a sec you feel too good, fuck.” You nodded, giggling a little and when you did you heard him gasp. Both of you could feel everything and it was so much. 

You sat still for what felt like hours but could have only been a minute or two before he looked at you, nodding slightly and you took that as your sign to start moving. Lifting up about halfway you dropped your hips back down, gasping at the sensation of him filling you up so well and the little curses slipping out of him only spurred you on. 

“Oh my god, Stevie. You’re so—I’m so full. So full of you I just..fuck.” You tilted your hips forward when you dropped down this time, his hip brushing against a spot inside of you that you didn’t know existed but lit you on fire. It made you go faster, sliding down hard and a moan so loud you should be embarrassed came out when your clit caught on the little patch of hair he had near the base. 

Steve seemed to be out of his mind, mumbling praises and curses under his breath. He couldn’t decide where to look, all the options too good to miss. He could look at your pretty face, all flushed and glowing from the sweat you’d worked up. He could look at your tits, so perfect and pretty and bouncing right in front of his face. Or he could look at where you connected. He could watch his cock disappear into you over and over again but that combined with how good you felt meant this would be over very soon. And he wanted, no needed, for this to last forever. 

As if his cock filling you up didn’t feel good enough, add in his filthy fucking mouth and his thumb he had rubbing quick, tight circles on your swollen clit and you were a goner. 

“Such a pretty girl. You really are my little bunny, huh, bouncing on my cock like you were made to do it. You were, weren’t you? Made for me, baby.” 

“Feels so good, honey. Snug little cunt feels like heaven.” 

“Gonna make me cum, you know that? Gonna cum with my girl on my cock.” 

It hit you out of nowhere, maybe it was him comparing you to a fucking bunny or maybe it was him calling you his girl. You’re not sure. All you know is one minute you’re there and the next your toes are curling and your face is buried in the crook of his neck, mouth open against his throat as you cum so hard your ears are ringing and you can’t feel or think about anything but him him him. 

Steve Steve Steve

“Fuckin’ shit, baby. M’gonna cum, gonna cum. Where do you want it, bunny? Huh? Please please please—shit.” You can’t even move your arms, let alone the rest of your body but you can feel how you’re still clenched around him and you can feel how both of your thighs are soaked. 

All you can manage is to lean up just a tad, lips brushing against the shell of his ear, “In me, want it in me, please Stevie.” And then he had one hand in your hair, holding you to him while his hips lifted and then stilled, groaning something obscene into your ear and if you weren’t so exhausted and overwhelmed that alone would have made you cum again. 

You laid there on top of Steve, his arms now around your waist as he pressed small kisses to your shoulder. Your legs felt like jelly and you really think you could pass out right here with him still inside of you. 

“Y’alright, baby? Still with me?” The words were tired and mumbled against your hair, both of you still kind of out of it but it was so good, you still felt so good. 

“M’okay, Stevie. Not to make your big head any bigger but Jesus Christ I think you just fucked me within an inch of my life.” He chuckled against you, teeth scraping over where your neck met your shoulder and you shivered. “Well I think technically you fucked me within an inch of my life, sweetheart.”

Pulling back just enough to get a look at him, his eyes were closed with a calm, relaxed look on his face. He must have felt you looking because one eye cracked open, a smile on his lips as he looked at you.

“What is it? Something on my face?” 

You shook your head and pressed a quick peck to his lips, threading your fingers into his hair and burrowing back into the crook of his neck. 

“No, I’m just happy, just love you.” 

“I love you most, pretty girl.” 

[stevesgother]

The 4th - S.H

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.2k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI NSFW, cursing, drinking, characters are all of age, takes place after the events of ST3, slight exhibitionism only bc they’re technically outside, it’s that slightly awkward but endearing sex you have when you fuck someone you like for the first time. It's realistic. Sue me.

AN: first time writing smut, i'm so nervous. fast times au?? If you squint?? the last half isn't proofread bc i simply cannot bring myself to read my own smut

‘American Woman’ by The Guess Who blares loudly from a twin pair of Hitachi speakers stationed on Steve Harrington’s back deck. On the hottest day of the year, The Party had decided to congregate at the only non-public pool they had unlimited access to.

To his relief, Steve had been assigned to grill duty again. The cherry red bikini you had sauntered through his sliding glass door wearing was starting to seriously inconvenience him. He had his Ray Bans on, albeit low on the bridge of his nose, to disguise where his gaze had been lingering all afternoon; the large propane grill hiding his lower half.

Lounging poolside on your towel, you hear before you feel a large ‘SPLASH’, and suddenly you’re soaked head to toe in overly chlorinated pool water.

“Ugh! Henderson!” you scold as you stand to replace your now drenched towel. The cheeky boy looks up at you from where he floats in the pool and mouths a half-hearted ‘Sorry’. 

“Steve! Would you happen to have an extra towel?” you shout to him as you hold up your ruined one, shooting him a deadpan expression. “Yeah, ‘course,” he sets down the grill tongs and awkwardly shuffles his way inside, keeping his back to you. Weird, you think.

Steve caught one look at you, hair wet and dripping, water beading down your neck and disappearing among the curve of your breasts; nipples taught from the sudden shock of cold water and visible through the fabric of your swimsuit, and he was grateful for the reprieve inside would offer him.

After close to 15 minutes of no Steve and more importantly, no towel, you decide to venture into the spacious house yourself. “Steve! – Oh!-” you startle as you run chest to chest into him, both turning a corner. “You scared me,” you say with a hand to your racing heart, “I was just wondering where you went,” you chuckle awkwardly.

“Yeah no, sorry, I just uh- got distracted,” he says, avoiding contact and handing you the fresh linen. You glance down, and notice the slight tent in his maybe too-tight swim trunks. You feel the heat of a rosy blush crawl up your cheeks, and a sudden flip of your stomach. Were you really the reason why he was acting so strange? That felt incredibly presumptuous of you.

“Well um…” you trail off, trying to keep your cool, “thanks. For the towel, I mean.” Steve had never made you feel so bashful and uncertain before. Something about the newly exposed skin and the salty smell of sweat mixed musk that radiates off of him from this proximity making your mind short circuit.

 –

When the cookout had dwindled down to just the adults and the sun dipped just below the trees, a joint had started to be passed around your small circle. “Well, we should probably head home,” Nancy announces in her usual demure tone, grabbing Jonathan’s hand helping him to stand. A chorus of goodbyes echo throughout the group, eventually leaving just you, Steve, Robin and Eddie.

An exaggerated yawn escapes Robin as she declares she’s exhausted and needs Eddie to drive her home in his rinky dink van.

“C’mon man! I just rolled this joi-”

Robin cuts him off with a harsh clear of her throat and an even harsher jab to his ribs.

“I. Really think. We. Should. Go.” She punctuates each word with a forced smile. Why was everyone acting so fucking odd today? You try to send her a panicked glance, fearing the potential awkwardness of being left here alone with Steve.

Being best friends with both of you, she was well aware of the searing crushes the two of you had on each other. This barbeque was her opportunity to light a fire under your asses to do something about it.

“That’s okay, Rob. Go home if you’re tired.” Always the gentleman. Right now you could kick him for it. If Robin notices your glaring, she doesn’t acknowledge it as she rises to her feet and heads toward the gate leading to the driveway.

“Bye losers!” She waggles her fingers at you as they make their exit, sending you a subtle wink that sets your cheeks ablaze. You now know without a doubt that this was intentional.

A hand on your knee as he says, “I can walk you home if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. We can finish the joint at least,” you smile timidly at him. Free weed wasn’t easy to come by these days, what was the harm in staying just a little longer?

–

2 hours later, you’re lying shoulder to shoulder on the rough concrete surrounding the Harrington’s pool. The joint had been snuffed out on the ground between you an hour ago, but with your thoughts dulled like this it was becoming increasingly easy to bask in the space you two had created for each other. The desire to turn heel and run with your other friends had long fizzled out.

“Hey, what was up with you today?” you ask after a few minutes of comfortable silence, “You just seemed really off,”

He looks suddenly nervous, “Oh I uh– I don’t know. Julys’ always a weird month for me, I guess,” he lies, carding a hand through his hair.

Taking the hand that’s not in his hair in your own, you ask, “Are you doing okay?” When he turns his head to meet you, your sincerity makes him blush - neck to ears. Your faces are closer than he thought they would be. He can count every eyelash from this proximity.

“Yeah– you know what,” He clears his throat, “I’m actually really warm,” he sits up clumsily as he pulls his shirt over his head by the collar, ruffling his hair and exposing the constellation of freckles and moles he has spattering the skin on his toned back.

“Okay–” You go to stand with him but he’s already dove into the pool. When he breaches the surface, he shakes his hair out like a dog and grins at you. You can’t help your eyes wandering to the dark patch of hair covering his chest. You’re starting to feel that warmth he had been complaining of.

“You gonna come in? Or just stand there and gawk?” He laughs as he floats over to you.

So you peel your shirt off and watch him stare intently as you unbutton your shorts, letting them drop to your feet. A less than elegant swan dive and you’re disappearing under the artificially blue water. The sudden coolness of it shocks you, sobering you up a bit.

You’re much more graceful than the boy when it’s your turn to come up for air, gently pushing back the hair that sticks to your face. He swims over to you unsuspectingly, then in the next breath and with a mischievous grin he lifts your body over his shoulder and essentially bodyslams you back under the surface.

More than the gesture itself, what shocks you the most is the warm expanse of his broad shoulders caressing you. You both emerge laughing, “Asshole!” you swat at his chest playfully.

When the laughter dies and fizzles out into an anxious energy, the air is filled with a sort of anticipation. The two of you are bobbing in the pool, faces no more than an inch apart.

“You have got to stop looking at me like that,” you whisper, breathlessly.

Just then he surges forward and presses his lips firmly to yours. The kiss is close-mouthed and chaste at first, giving you a chance to pull away. When you don’t take the opportunity, he deepens it. Your wet hands move to hold his face, breaching the water with a small splashing sound and his strong arms hug you at the waist, bringing you impossible closer. Pressed up against him like this you can feel all of him. The scratch of curls on his chest, the bulge of his biceps around your middle, the hard length of him pressed against your thigh.

Gasping into the kiss, you give him the opening he needs to lick hotly into your mouth, eliciting a breathy moan from your chest that sends Steve reeling. He starts to slowly kick his legs, swimming to push your back up against a vinyl clad wall.

Your lips move to lick the vein that runs down his neck, then up to a spot just below his ear. He groans when you take his earlobe gently into your mouth. Grasping your cheek in his hand, he forces your face out of the refuge his neck had provided from his intense gaze.

“Can I touch you?” He shudders when he speaks, having dreamt about this exact moment for years. Your response is an enthusiastic nod and another searing kiss to his lips - plush and pink and made for your own.

Steve’s knee moves to rest bookended between your thighs, keeping you open for him. In the water, he can’t feel how pathetically wet you are beneath your bright red bikini bottoms. You’re thankful for that, but even so, the whine that you release when his swift fingers push aside the fabric and start slowly massaging your clit is enough to give you away.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens, leaving small crescent shapes in his perfect skin. “Oh!-- God, keep doing that,” you pant.

“You like that, baby?” Steve tries to sound suave. Mr. Confident. King Steve. Honestly, he’s terrified. He has half a mind to stop and ask you to pinch him, not entirely convinced this is even real. But the sweet, sweet sounds you’re making are enough to persuade him otherwise.

“Yes! Ah– please, don’t stop,” you beg, even though you don’t have to. Steve’s positive he would do just about anything you asked of him right now. You have the sudden urge to return the favor, reaching down between your two bodies and palming him through his swim trunks.

“Oh -- my God, don’t,” he warns, the sheepish smile on his face signals to you that he’s not actually uncomfortable, “I’ll come in my pants like a damn teenager,” he gives an embarrassed chuckle.

Growing desperate for more, you say, “I want you to fuck me.” with an impossible finality. It makes Steve’s breath hitch in his throat.

“Wh-what?” He needs to make sure he heard you correctly.

“Steve. I need you to fuck me. Now.” Your voice is slightly muffled as you begin to press open-mouth kisses to his neck again.

“Oh my God,” The boy sounds absolutely wrecked already, barely able to contain himself. His hands fumble blindly for the ties on your bikini bottoms and he pulls when he finds them. Unwrapping you like his very own Christmas present.

You pull his trunks down and over his hips, just enough to fish his red and swollen cock out, careful to not let them fall to the bottom of the pool lest someone have to dive and retrieve them. You line him up hurriedly with your entrance, but he stops you with a hand on your wrist.

“Are you sure about this?” His brows furrow in that way they always do, when he's unsure. He has a crinkle above his nose.

“Yes” you half moan before getting a look at his face, “Wait, are you?”

“Yes! Yes– of course. I just– want you to be sure,” He kisses you softly after he asks

It’s so tender, you feel so safe with him like this. You fear you might be falling in love.

“I promise, I’m su–Oh!” he slides into you without warning, nearly knocking the breath out of you. He lets out a guttural groan into the space where your shoulder meets your neck as he starts to keep a steady rhythm.

“God, you feel so good,” he pants into your open mouth, “i’ve wanted this for so long,”

His words have you keening. He wraps his broad arms fully around you now, hugging you close as he pistons his hips into you. Repeatedly hitting that spot inside your walls where you need him the most.

“Oh, Steve!” you moan loudly, no longer concerned about the neighbors hearing you. The pool water begins to form waves from Steve’s thrusting and splash up onto the concrete beside your head.

“Fuck, say my name like that again,” you can feel his hips stuttering slightly.

“Steve!” He whines directly into your ear when you say it, you never would’ve thought he’d be so vocal.

“Touch yourself baby, I’m close,”

You do as you’re asked and start to keep a frenzied pace on your sensitive bud. Having both kinds of stimulation, mixed with Steve’s sweet praise, is sending you closer and closer to your edge.

As you reach your high, Steve can feel your warm pussy clench around him, making him hurtle towards his orgasm with you.

With a strangled cry, “fuck- I'm cumming,” You finish together as hips slow and he rides out his orgasm with you. His body curls in on itself and he trembles slightly. You run a warm, soft hand through his hair and down his back, soothing him through the intensity of it.

“Shit- my parents are going to kill me,” he laughs and kisses you again.

Maybe you did like swimming. Just a little bit.

tags: @daisy-munson, @megxplryxb

[keeryhours]

wildflower chapter ten

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

No more answers are had, and some news comes out.

Warnings:

Pregnancy, secret baby, kissing, conflicting feelings, angst

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N:

I’m so excited for the final joint chapter of Wildflower! Please be sure to let me know if you want to be on Eddie’s list, Steve’s, or both! I truly hope this doesn’t suck. Thank you @punkrockmlchael , @lesservillain , and @the-witty-pen-name for your help!! I love all of you!

Being pregnant changed everything.

For one, the guys were so far up your ass now you could hardly breathe. Someone was at your apartment constantly - usually Steve - like you couldn’t take care of yourself anymore. You’d think they’d forgotten you’d already been through this once.

Before you knew it it was time for your ultrasound. Steve insisted on taking you, Asher at your mom’s.

“Do you think they’ll tell us anything?” he asked nervously, fingers tapping at the steering wheel.

“About the father?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

He didn’t say anything else. He could tell you were irritated with him, and he didn’t want to push it. He drove you to the office, parking the car close to the door so you didn’t have to walk far.

You walked in without him, and he trailed after you once he got out of the car. You checked in at the front desk and sat down to wait.

“Are you nervous?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t really know the answer to that question. Were you? Maybe a little. You were certainly nervous to know who the father was, but this appointment might not even tell you that. You shrugged in response.

He looked dejected. You felt bad - you knew he was just excited at the potential of being a father. “I don’t know, Steve. I’m a little nervous. I just want to know.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I…I understand.”

The nurse called you back, and Steve followed. “Are you dad?” she asked with a smile.

“Maybe,” you answered, which made Steve blush and the nurse stop talking real fast.

The appointment went on as usual, checking your vitals and weight, then the ultrasound machine came in. You were nervous - would this tell you anything? Were you ready to find out if the baby was Steve’s or Eddie’s?

The nurse squirted the gel on your stomach and began moving it across your abdomen, the picture appearing on the screen. You saw that little blob appear - and it was like all your worries went out the window. That was your baby. You pictured Asher with the tiny bundle in his arms, playing with a little brother or sister.

Steve looked at the screen with awe. He had seen Asher’s ultrasounds, but this was different. He was acutely aware that this could be his child - the thought was so exciting. He wanted that more than anything.

“Is there a way to tell, uh…when the baby was conceived?” you asked, feeling awkward.

The nurse looked at you with something like pity. “Not for sure. It’s not exact.”

That was pretty much what you’d been expecting to hear, but it was still disappointing. You could tell Steve was disappointed, too.

You left the appointment with a strip of ultrasound photos, a prescription for prenatal vitamins, and a card with your next appointment. There was an awkward silence as the two of you sat in the car.

“…Are you okay?” you finally asked Steve as he started the engine of his BMW, pulling out of the parking lot.

“I’m fine,” he said. “…Are you?”

“I mean…it would have been nice to know.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed immediately. ���It would have.”

Another awkward silence settled over the car. You watched the scenery as you drove past.

Steve thought about having a family with you, a real one. You, him, Asher, and the new baby. He let himself picture the baby with his hazel eyes, your lips and his nose and a head full of brown hair. Signing the birth certificate as the father - the last name Harrington on the document.

He imagined Eddie’s face when the baby turned out to be his. Then maybe he’d finally back off. Not out of Asher’s life, but as out of yours as he possibly could be.

But what if the baby was Eddie’s? He could feel the ache in his chest already at the thought of you having another one of Eddie’s babies, now with Eddie here wanting to be involved and, let’s face it, wanting you back. He couldn’t handle that. He pushed the possibility from his mind.

“You know I’m going to love this baby either way, right?” Steve spoke up, looking at you with his big sad eyes. “Even if it’s not mine. I love Asher like he’s my own, so if this baby is Eddie’s again…I’ll love them just as much.”

You smiled sadly at him. His words did make you feel better. “I know. I know you will.”

Steve dropped you off at home. Asher would be spending the night with your mom and Dustin, and you were relieved to have the time to yourself, to think about things.

Steve watched you walk into your apartment, desperately wanting to go after you, to be with you. To kiss you again. But he gave you your space - it was what you needed.

Halloween rolled around, and it felt like chaos. You got Asher into his ninja turtle costume - Leonardo - with great effort. Your back and feet were killing you after a long day at the diner, and you were grateful you didn’t have to leave the house tonight.

Eddie had asked to take Asher trick or treating, which you gladly said yes to. He’d never gotten to take him and you did not feel up to it. Steve was coming over to watch some horror movies he was bringing from Family Video, and you were attempting to paint your belly like a pumpkin.

It was a lot harder to do by yourself, but you had missed out on this with Asher’s pregnancy and you weren’t going to miss it this time, even though the bump was still small. You painted the cool orange paint over your stomach, and you were attempting the black parts when there was a knock at the door.

You went to the door, wearing your leggings and a sports bra, leaving your belly and the wet paint exposed. Eddie’s eyes widened at the sight, then a grin spread across his lips.

“Whatcha doin’?” he asked.

“Attempting to paint a pumpkin on the belly,” you said, looking down at yourself. “It’s not going great.”

“Need some help?” Eddie offered. “We’ve got a little time before me and Ash meet up with the guys.”

“Really? You want to help?” You raised your eyebrows at him. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “I missed out on this stuff last time.” He walked past you into the apartment, and you closed the door behind him.

“Daddy!” Asher cheered, jumping up from where he’d been watching TV. He ran into Eddie’s arms, and he laughed as he lifted his son in the air.

“Hey, buddy! Look at you!” Asher showed off his swords. “Woah! So cool!”

Asher went back to the TV as you and Eddie headed for the paints spread out on the kitchen table. He picked up the orange paint and repainted the mess you’d made of your belly, the strokes much more even and pumpkin-like.

“You sure this is how you want to spend the first part of your night?” you teased with a raised eyebrow, watching Eddie work with his tongue poking out between his lips.

“Of course,” he said again. “Like I said, I didn’t get to do any of this with Ash. And this one might be mine, too, so…” he winked up at you, and you rolled your eyes.

He moved onto the black paint next, painting a face on the pumpkin. When he was done, it looked perfect.

“I didn’t know you could paint,” you said, looking down at the art on your body. He’d done an amazing job.

“Just something I picked up in my free time on the road,” he smiled gently, eyes still on the bump, like he was lost in thought.

“What’s up?” you asked him, head tilted to the side. “Something’s on your mind.”

He shook his head. “I just…I’m just thinking about stuff.”

“Like the new baby?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I just…I hope it’s mine, you know? It would be a second chance. To do things right.”

You looked at him sadly, reaching forward to take his hand. “I know, Eddie.”

He looked over at Asher with a wistful smile. “He’s a cool kid.”

“He’s the most important thing to me. He made me a mom,” you said, smiling at Asher playing with his toys.

“Well, actually I made you a mom,” Eddie said, a goofy grin on his face.

You laughed - “I guess that’s true.”

Eddie smiled at you, then, as if he were snapping out of his reverie, looked down at his watch. “Shit. We need to get going.”

You turned - “Ash, you ready?”

You didn’t have to tell him twice, as he came galloping to meet you both. He had his plastic pumpkin in his hands, pretend swords strapped to his back.

Eddie picked him up and sat him on his hip. It made you smile how natural he looked with his son. “We’ll be back by 9:30. Tell mom bye!”

“Bye bye!” Asher said, excitedly bouncing in Eddie’s arms. You walked them both to the door and watched them leave, shutting it softly behind him. The room felt immediately lonely in Asher’s absence.

You didn’t have to wait long before there was another knock at your door and Steve let himself in. He had three movies in his hands, holding them up as he dropped his jacket over the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

“I got us A Nightmare on Elm Street, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and Evil Dead,” he said. His eyes dropped to your stomach - “Did you do all that yourself?”

You looked down at the artistry on your skin. “I started it, but it wasn’t looking too good. Eddie did it for me when he came to pick up Ash.”

Steve was struck with a pang of jealousy. He had wanted to help you with this. That could be his baby in there. Just because Eddie wasn’t around the first time shouldn’t mean he gets to take over this time. “It looks cute.”

You smiled. “Thanks. I wanted to do something special. The bump isn’t even that big yet, but…”

“I think it’s adorable,” Steve said, giving you a reassuring smile. “Very festive.”

You put together all the snacks you’d prepared for the two of you while Steve picked a movie and put it in the VCR. 

“Fuckers didn’t rewind,” he muttered to himself as he hit the rewind button. “Now I get to watch the whole movie backwards first. Awesome.”

You laughed as you placed the various bowls of snacks and candy on the coffee table. You had decided to do something actually fun for Halloween, since Eddie was taking Asher and you didn’t want to mope around the apartment alone.

But you weren’t sure you were going to get that. Steve looked distracted, lost in thought. When you’d question him about it he brushed you off, insisting he was fine.

He started to warm up about halfway through the first movie. He scooted closer to you, both sharing a blanket in the cool living room. Your bowl of popcorn rested on the baby bump like your own personal table. 

“You really like these movies?” Steve asked, wincing as Leatherface killed his next victim. 

“Of course,” you said, popping a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “If I want to relax after a long day…”

“You find this relaxing??”

You laughed at him - “You get used to it.”

At some point, you dozed off leaning against Steve’s shoulder. The knocking at the door startled you both.

“Do you want me to get it?” Steve asked.

“No, I’m sure it’s just Eddie and Asher. You can go turn his white noise on?”

“Sure,” Steve said, leaving the room just as you opened the front door.

Eddie smiled at you with Asher asleep on his shoulder. He looked so cute, so peaceful.

“How’d he do?” you whispered as the two of you transferred Asher into your arms. He barely stirred, continuing to sleep on your shoulder now.

“He was great. We had a lot of fun.” Eddie leaned forward and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Asher’s head. “Thanks for letting me take him.”

“Of course,” you said. “Look, I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“Oh yeah, sure. I know you had plans.” Eddie’s eyes scanned behind you, like he was looking for Steve and signs of what you’d been doing. “He’s here?”

“Steve?” you furrowed your eyebrows. “Yeah. He’s getting Asher’s room ready. What’s wrong?”

He shook his head, like he was clearing it. “Nothing. I’ll see you later - goodnight, buddy,” he whispered the last part, even though the boy wasn’t awake to hear it.

You closed the door as you took Asher to bed. He stayed mostly asleep as you changed him out of his costume and into some pajamas, and Steve tucked him in when you laid him in bed. He was so peaceful. Worn out.

Steve followed you back into the living room. You rubbed your tired eyes. “I don’t know if I can do another movie,” you admitted.

“That’s okay,” Steve said. “Do you want me to go? Or I can stay?”

“You can stay the night if you want,” you offered. “But I’m probably gonna go to bed now. Sorry, I’m not as much fun these days.”

Steve smiled gently. “Hey, I get it. I’ll head home.” He stepped forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you.”

You had barely seen Steve go when you went into your own room. You cleaned the pain and makeup off your skin, the most effort you had as you passed out in bed right after. 

You dreamed of both Steve and Eddie - your heart had never been good at choosing.

You hated going to the grocery store. Especially now with a toddler on top of being pregnant and exhausted. But you had to do what you had to do.

You pushed Asher in the cart through the store, gathering the things you needed. He reached for the candy when you got to the checkout counter. “Candy!”

“Okay, one candy,” you conceded with little fight, moving to the rack to pick out a chocolate bar for the toddler. But just as you began to reach for it, a magazine on the rack caught your attention, making your stomach sink.

Corroded Coffin Frontman Eddie Munson’s Secret Baby?

Below the headline were photos of Eddie with Asher on halloween. Holding hands as they went from house to house, Eddie holding Asher with the baby’s arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Eddie laughing with the guys as he held his son.

This could not be happening.

How had paparazzi made it to Hawkins? It’s not like people local to Hawkins didn’t already know Eddie was Asher’s father. But someone absolutely could have snapped the pics to make some money.

You felt sick as you paid for your groceries, grabbing one of the magazines. You hurried from the store, getting Asher into his seat and heading back home. You plucked the phone from the receiver as soon as you got Asher settled.

It rang a few times before a sleepy “Hello?” came from the other end. 

“Have you seen what’s in the tabloids?”

Eddie groaned. “What this time?”

You picked up the magazine. “Corroded Coffin Frontman Eddie Munson was spotted Halloween night with a child sources say is his son-“

“Shit,” Eddie hissed. You could hear as he sat up in bed, practically see the blankets pooling at his shirtless waist, lithe tattooed body with his disheveled hair hanging down his shoulders-

“Fuck,” Eddie said. “I have like 50 voicemails from the label. Can I, uh, call you back?”

Before you could say anything the line went dead. You cursed as you slammed the phone back down onto the receiver.

You had wanted to keep Asher away from this. You didn’t want his face plastered all over the whole country, the whole world. With everything, it had been so easy to forget who Eddie was now - famous. Really famous.

You knew you had no right to be mad at Eddie, but you were anyway. You were furious, and you had to take it out on someone. You looked at Asher, playing with his toys on the living room floor - and realized his life was about to change.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Eddie muttered as he paced his room, the ringing phone held to his ear. When his agent answered, there was no relief.

“Eddie, what the fuck?” he said in lieu of a greeting, his voice angry. Eddie had a headache already.

“Look, I can explain-“

“Is that kid yours?”

“Just let me-“

“Is. That. Kid. Yours?”

Eddie ran his hand over his face. “Yes, but I swear-“

His agent let out a laugh that sounded more fed up than joyful. “Just typical, Munson. Do you know how much of a disaster this is for us right now? The phone has been ringing off the hook for you all day. Why have you never mentioned this?”

His head was pounding. “I haven’t known myself for very long.”

A sigh. “Well, congratulations, I guess.”

“There might also be another one?” he added on, wincing as he said it.

“Another…what?” Another disbelieving huff. “Eddie, what the fuck are you getting into over there?”

“Long story,” he mumbled.

“But this one is yours? In the media?”

“Yes.”

“We’re going to need to make a statement,” he said. “We’re going to have to spin this and say you’ve been trying to keep him out of the spotlight.”

“That’s the truth.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll leave out the part where you’re just now finding out the kid exists at all.” He scoffs. “I can’t believe you, Munson. You’ve been more trouble than anyone I’ve ever worked with. Better be glad you sell records.”

The call ended abruptly, Eddie letting the phone dangle from his fingers as he buried his face in his hands and thought. This was bad, but it wasn’t the worst thing to happen. The fans were bound to find out about Asher eventually, with the way cameras followed their every move. This was okay. He could handle this.

It wasn’t the end of the world.

The end of the world came the next day.

Eddie woke up again to his phone ringing off the hook, a million missed calls from the label and from you. This time he jumped up in a panic, preparing to snatch the phone when there was a loud banging at his door.

Panic struck him. What if someone had happened? He threw the front door open to see you, looking absolutely furious. “Eddie.”

“What…?” he asked, utterly terrified of what your best words would be.

You didn’t say any. You slapped a magazine against his chest instead, pushing roughly past his shoulder and into the house, phone still ringing. Eddie reluctantly looked down at the magazine in his hand - and felt like he would be sick on the spot.

“So, another baby?” You said from behind him, hands on your hips. “You sure do get around, huh?”

Eddie couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A woman he didn’t particularly recognize, holding a small brown haired baby. The words below her picture - “Another woman steps forward with a baby claimed to belong to Corroded Coffin’s Eddie Munson.”

His hands shook as he numbly walked back into the house, collapsing onto the couch. You were about to say something, but the phone began ringing for the millionth time. He picked it up this time. “Hello?”

“Another one?”

Eddie could hear his heart beating through his ears. “I don’t know anything about-“

“Did you sleep with this girl? Linda?”

Eddie gaped down at the magazine, examining the girl’s picture. “I…I don’t know.”

You snorted.

“You don’t know. He doesn’t know.” His manager laughed humorlessly over the line. “God damnit, Munson.”

Eddie was trembling. He really couldn’t remember if he’d ever seen this woman in his life. It was possible. He’d woken up plenty of times on the road unable to remember who, if anyone, he brought to bed.

The way he’d drown his emotions in alcohol, until every girl throwing themselves at him looked like you. Your name tattooed on his body as he slept with these other women, poor substitutions for the real thing. The thing he’d given up, and now probably ruined for good.

“The girl wants money,” his manager continued. “So the next step is a DNA test. You better pray, boy, this isn’t looking good for you.”

The phone call ended abruptly. Eddie lowered the phone from his ear, not looking to forward to facing you, either.

“Did you sleep with her?” you asked him, and the hurt in your eyes broke him more than anything.

“I don’t know,” he said again, feeling like the biggest dumbass in the world. All these things he’d done, these stupid mistakes he’d made, ruining the one thing he’d wanted more than anything. Even if he hadn’t always seen that.

You shook your head. “Eddie, if that woman’s baby turns out to be yours, that’s it. I don’t want anything with you, I don’t want to be your friend. I’ll finish this bullshit in court and co-parent with you as much as I have to. But I’m done with you.”

Eddie’s heart kept breaking into smaller and smaller pieces. Even if he had slept with this woman, he didn’t care about her. He wanted you. He would do anything to have you.

He was about to say something else when you left the trailer with the door slamming behind you. He was left alone with nothing but his thoughts, his heart having followed you out the door.

You hadn’t even realized you’d started crying until you were knocking on Steve’s apartment door, tears streaming down your face that you wipe away as you wait for him to open the door.

When he did, his expression immediately changed from confused to concerned. “What are you doing here?” he asked, pulling you inside. “Are you okay? Is Ash okay?” His eyes darted down to your stomach. “The baby?”

“We’re okay,” you sniffled. “Have you seen the tabloids today?”

“No?” His eyes widened. “What do they say?”

“Some other girl has come out and said she had Eddie’s baby. And he can’t even remember if he slept with her or not.” You scoffed as the tears began to fall again.

“Jesus,” Steve said. He pulled you into a hug. “Are you okay? How do you feel?”

You shrugged, crying as your head lay on his chest. “I don’t know. I figured he probably slept with other girls on the road, but I didn’t want to know. I don’t want him to have a baby with some random girl.”

Steve wished you didn’t care what Eddie got up to, but he knew you did. He knew a part of you still loved Eddie, and there was nothing he could do about that.

When you looked up at him, it was with red puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. He still thought you were so beautiful like this. So beautiful, that as you stared into each other’s eyes, feeling your hearts beating against one another’s chest, all he could think about was kissing you again. So much so that he leaned in, so so slowly, until he was pressing his lips against yours.

He was surprised when you kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. His arms slid around your waist as you kissed deeply, picking up in intensity quickly. When you pulled back slightly he instinctively chased after your lips, pressing two quick pecks to them as you pulled away.

“I love you,” Steve said, and then he opened his eyes and he saw the look on your face - the horror, guilt, and panic.

“I should go,” you said, pulling away and out of his reach, even as his hand reached out towards you.

“Please don’t,” Steve said. “Please just talk to me.”

“I can’t. I’m sorry, Steve,” you said, and he watched you leave, heart breaking as the door shut behind you.

You were nearly hyperventilating as you reached your car. Your thoughts were spinning so fast you couldn’t keep up, you thought you were going to be sick. It was like a ride you really did not want to be on. You hated how much you liked the kiss with Steve. You hated how much you still loved Eddie. Why were you always fucked?

Chapter 11 Eddie’s Route - coming soon

Chapter 11 Steve’s Route - coming soon

tag list

@awkward00noodle @american-idiot-jpg @georgeweasleyslostearhq @fandom-princess-forevermore @emxxblog @hopesicle @hellv1ra @whimsiwitchy @kellsck @toomuchbucky @sashaphantomhive @losingmygrasponreality @eddiesgirl1944 @ashcal99 @richardsamboramylove55 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @allhailtheslothoverlord @micheledawn1975 @browneyes528 @costellation-hunter @taccobelle @hellmastereddie @siriuslysmoking @princessadriana4-blog @littlemissholy @punkrockmlchael @sadiea20 @seeigotyoubaby @heyyimmisunderstood @xplrnowornever @fandomsearcherforcuntymen @alhaithmss @mastermindmiko @hazydespair @crispystarfishhottub @katethetank @4everdweeb @eme929 @arabellagreenleaf @itsmytimetoodream @leather-n-velvet @jeangeniex @wendyxox @ches-86 @prestinalove @r3dskywaterfall @hotdhoe

[loveu2themoonandsaturn]

“SLUT!”

loosely inspired by the taylor swift song.

steve harrington x fem!reader

a/n: tried to get the word count but I fear I lost track at 3k and that was maybe only the halfway point 😭 also sorry for the potentially shit formatting, I’ve never done this before and I typed the whole thing in the tumblr app. hope it doesn’t ruin the reading experience 😅 all credit for dividers goes to @strangergraphics!

angst, hurt/comfort, fluff(ish), no use of y/n, second person, office gossip, way past upside down but hawkins is still that same small town, very 80s/90s attitude toward sex, slutshaming, sort of miscommunication trope (more like meddling jackass trope) minor injury (no blood), reader is mentioned as having meat in her freezer and consumes dairy once, only kinda beta’d because every time I try I just end up ADDING THINGS, smut 18+ MDNI, filthier tags below.

contains: porn with an unreasonable amount of plot, protected piv fucking (girls we cannot afford children in this economy, wrap it before you tap it), soft pleasure dom!Steve, needy Steve who may or may not be real big on talking you through it, oral (m+f), fingering, some ball sucking, intimacy, love confessions (i’m sorry😭), eye contact, hickies like a motherfucker, no body type mentioned, no hair type or length mentioned, y’all prolly know most of the drill.

hope you enjoy! 🩵

Steve swore he felt his soul leave this side of heaven when he felt a fist slam against the front desk of the Family Video, right next to where his head so happened to be resting, wrapped up in his own arms. Whoever just did that was about to hear a piece of his mind.

“Hey man, what the hell- oh. Hey,” He relaxes for a moment when he sees that it’s you, but only for just that moment.

Because then he sees your face.

Hot, angry tears are streaming stoically down your face from a pair of red, puffy eyes. He panics at the expression that paints the face he so adores.

His immediate instinct is to fix it.

“Baby, what’s wro—”

“Don’t you fucking call me baby right now,” you cut him off. Your voice is cold, almost devoid of emotion. It worries Steve. “Why would you say those things about me, why would you lie?”

Steve’s head is spinning now. Lies? Talking about you? Was he still asleep, dreaming? Had he accidentally shifted into another dimension? Hell, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, slow down—”

You scoff. “I don’t believe that for a second. I believed you when you said you’d changed, that you weren’t that same douchebag we all knew back in high school,” you pause, throat catching on the lump nestled deep within it. “But I was wrong about that. I won’t make that mistake twice.”

Steve felt his heart shattering, and he didn’t even know why, didn’t understand what on earth was going on.

“Wait, no, I’m serious, I don’t know what we’re talking about here, please!” He’s desperate now, needs to know what he did, what transgression he forgot that he must now atone for.

“You expect me to believe you don’t know what your good friend Tommy got up to this morning?”

Tommy? Tommy Hagan? Steve hadn’t so much as spoken to that toxic jackass in years, what could he possibly have to do with anything-

“Because I walked into work today and was greeted by him, in front of all my coworkers, announcing that he had a gift for the new town whore,” you choke out, voice no longer cold, but bitter. Angry. Sad. “And he handed me what must have been the deadest, most rotten bouquet of flowers left from the supermarket, with a card. ‘To the SLUT, courtesy of King Steve,’” you say, voice raised enough to catch the attention of several now-nosy movie perusers.

Steve stands slack-jawed, floored at the mere thought. He wasn’t even sure how Tommy knew he was seeing you, let alone what he could have done to give him the impression that you had slept with him.

Unfortunately for Steve, you don’t take his silence for the shock that it is.

“Nothing to say for yourself? My reputation is in shreds, my boss won’t look me in the eye and my coworkers haven’t stopped whispering since 9 a.m., yet you have nothing to say for yourself?” you spit, incredulous.

Steve’s brain finally gets with the program and makes his mouth move.

“Honey, I didn’t know anything about this,” he pauses when you roll your eyes, crossing your arms in front of your chest, “I haven’t talked to Tommy since high school. I have changed, I’m not the person that I used to be, and even if I was still friends with Hagan’s sorry ass, I would never, ever lie about you like that. I like you. I care about you. I would never put that in jeopardy.”

Steve’s eyes are pleading, which you might notice if you could even bring yourself to meet them.

“God, Steve, please don’t treat me like I’m stupid-”

“I’m not, I’m not!,” he cuts you off. “I swear, I don’t know how he got that idea into his head, but I would never do that to you!” Steve is fighting the urge to raise his voice. You deserve his gentleness, even during a fight, he thinks. That gentleness is clearly not mutual, though, at least not right now.

“Is it because I said I wasn’t ready?” you say, voice at a low volume.

Steve feels his heart thud restlessly in his chest, hurt and pain lashing at the muscle.

“Wh… What?” He’s giving you an opportunity to back out, clarify, say you don’t mean what he thinks you mean. But you double down.

“Is Tommy doing this out of some weird bro-code respect for you because I said I wasn’t ready to have sex with you.” You ask it like it’s a statement, a sure thing, no real questioning to your tone.

He’s hit with a wave of this sick feeling in his stomach, this inescapable dread at the thought that you might believe even for a second that he would stoop that low. He swallows, a thick feeling as a lump in his own throat starts to make itself known.

“You really think that poorly of me?” he mutters out, pained.

You shake your head, tears falling faster now.

“I didn’t Steve. All my friends told me I was being stupid, too trusting of you, giving you too much benefit of the doubt, and I…” you prick your finger into your own chest, bone meeting bone as the digit presses into your sternum. “I told them they were crazy. That they were stuck in the past and that you were so different now. I defended you.” You let out a mirthless chuckle. “And look where that got me. Do you know what half the town will think by this time tomorrow? They’re gonna that I spread my legs for the first man to show interest in me, for the man who has a well-documented history of taking what he wants and leaving, and they’re going to think I’m pathetic and easy for it.” He’s never seen you like this. It’s agony.

“In a way… the truth is almost worse. Because I was stupid enough to let ‘King Steve’ come and pretend to be all sweet and gentlemanly and brand-spanking-new. I guess the punishment fits the crime, right? I believed you, and now nobody is gonna believe me.” You start to turn on your heel, halfway ready to walk out the door.

“Wait, wait!” Steve is frantic now. “I don’t know how this happened, but please, give me a chance, let me fix this for you,” he begs.

You squeeze your eyes shut, hands finally coming up to wipe away some tears so you can at least leave with some dignity.

“I don’t think this is something you can fix.”

And with that, the best thing in Steve’s life walks out the door.

Hurt doesn’t even begin to describe how he feels. But it’s quickly replaced by rage, blinding anger that someone would do this to you. More anger yet that Tommy-fucking-Hagan of all people would crawl out of whatever hole he’s been living in to, to what? Ruin his chance at happiness with you since Carol dumped him the second she went away for college? Hurt you just for being associated with Steve and a better future, not his past? What the hell is this?

He’s dialing Robin’s number before he can even think straight, asking if she can do him a favor and stay the last hour at the store, close up. He mindlessly agrees to whatever condition it is she sets; he’s hardly paying attention, because now? Now he has business to attend to.

The night is young, and Steve knew he’d luck out eventually by just going from filthy dive bar to filthy dive bar. After all, there were only so many places in Hawkins where a burnout could go to delude himself into thinking he’s not there to drown his sorrows.

It’s at the fifth one that he lays eyes on Tommy, looking worse for wear. He’s surrounded by a couple other guys that walk and talk and dress like Steve used to in high school, Tommy’s obvious attempt at replacing him. He almost wonders if he’ll find a pseudo-Carol somewhere in the crowd, waiting to dote on him.

Steve overhears Tommy talking, who clearly does not know he’s even been found and is being watched.

“I mean, you guys should have seen the look on her face. Harrington’s girl was basically a puddle, I guess she knew she got caught. You know what they say, though boys—”

“Yeah? What is it they say, Tommy?” Steve’s sudden interruption brings a mix of shock and satisfied jeers among the little crowd. Tommy turns whistles, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! Big King Steve back from his latest conquest. What’s wrong, your girl can’t handle the consequences of her own actions?”

Steve’s jaw gets tight at that; he’s trying damn hard to maintain some semblance of control. All he can think about is how bad he wants to punch that smirk off Tommy’s face.

“And just what do you think you know about her, huh Hagan? Or did that half semester of college give you time to get into shitty creative writing?” Steve grits out.

“Oh, please Harrington, don’t act like half the town didn’t see you two heading into your place this weekend. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together,” Tommy says, cocky as ever.

A moment of realization hits Steve then. He had brought you to his house, at night, and you two were alone. He’d let you sleep in the guest room when it got too late. It never even occurred to him that someone was watching, let alone would assume something went down between the two of you and spread that assumption around.

He feels like such a fucking idiot.

He knows this town, knows these people. They love nothing more than a scandal. Something to gossip about. He should have been more careful with you. His own anger with himself turns into rage at the sorry excuse for a man now standing before him.

“You’re such goddamn dumbass, Hagan. She’s not a whore, a slut, an anything. She slept in the guest bedroom, and she only spent the night in the first place because I said it was too late to drive her home.”

Tommy and his gaggle of trust fund babies, one of whom surely paid for the flattening beer he takes a swig from, all elbow each other, exchanging knowing glances.

But they don’t know shit, Steve thinks.

“Listen, Harrington, it’s cute that you want to ‘defend her honor,’” Tommy mocks, “But at the end of the day, nobody in this town was born yesterday. I’m sorry her feelings got hurt just because people noticed how easy she is, but that’s how it i- what the fuck dude??”

Tommy is cut off quickly and finds the edge of the bar jamming into his spine, with Steve Harrington having rushed in and wrapped his fists into Tommy’s shirt collars.

“She is anything but easy, you son of a bitch,” Steve seethes, pushing Tommy back again for emphasis. “Six months we’ve been dating, and I haven’t touched her. You know why that is? Because I actually give two shits about her, I have respect for her, something you’re not capable of doing or having for anybody.”

Tommy is thrown off guard, but quickly recovers, slapping that smirk right back on his face. Steve decides then and there that he hates that smirk.

“Listen buddy. We all remember your track record when it comes to anything that involves fists,” Tommy sneers. “Unless you wanna get your ass handed to you, I suggest letting me go. It’s not like anyone would believe she’s the choir girl you want us to think she is.”

Steve laughs, the sound dark. He laughs, and that confuses the hell out of Tommy and his crew.

“Maybe you peaked in high school and forgot that other people grow past who they were at 18, but the rest of us didn’t. So if I were you? I’d get to work fixing this shit, unless you want to have to fix your goddamn teeth, buddy,” Steve says, his threat only cushioned slightly by his sarcastic remark.

“Like hell I will,” Tommy yells before shoving Steve off. He swings, and color quickly blooms across the apple of Steve’s left cheek. “Now get the fuck out of h-”

Tommy doesn’t get to finish. Or do much of anything, really.

With one solid, square hit to the chin, Steve lays Tommy out, leaving him with nothing more than a sure concussion and a nice sticky spot on the bar floor to come to on.

Tommy’s herd of friends stand in stunned silence, a strong juxtaposition from their earlier mindless chittering. It’s satisfying, if Steve is honest with himself.

Steve steps closer to them, causing a few of them to back off, clearly not wanting to be next.

“When he wakes up, you tell your little friend here to fix the mess he made, and that if I so much as have to hear someone utter his name again for the rest of my life, I’m coming back and beating his ass, and next time I won’t stop once he’s on the ground. Oh, and make sure he leaves me and my girl alone, yeah?”

Something about Steve’s energy is enough to have them nodding, no questions asked.

Steve storms out of the bar, only one mission left for the day.

You’re home in your apartment, taking your feelings out on a bowl of ice cream and watching Pretty in Pink for what must be the ninth time, when you hear knocking at your door.

You find yourself wondering who the hell would be knocking at this hour, only irked at the possibilities running through your head.

You’re already yelling through to the person on the other side as you make your way to the door.

“I don’t want to buy whatever you’re selling and I already know Jesu- Oh.”

You swing open the door to find none other than Steve Harrington, looking a lot more bruised than the last time you saw him.

Both of his eyes look apologetic, pitiful, and the quickly forming mark beneath his left one certainly isn’t helping your resolve.

You have the urge to kick him to the curb, but find that, in spite of what you believe he did, you didn’t leave your feelings for him at the doors of the Family Video when your hightailed it out of there earlier that day.

So that’s how you get here, with Steve sitting on your kitchen counter, right fist squishing into a bag of frozen peas, left hand pressing a freezer-burnt steak into the respective cheek. Your movie is forgotten, frozen in time, and what remained of the ice cream has been left to melt.

You’re silent, plaid pajama pants and your softest T-shirt hanging on to your form, only shielded somewhat by the fuzzy robe that sits open, mostly just draped around your shoulders. As you lean against your fridge, you take a long sip from your mug, warm liquid soothing as you fight to break the silence, the tension that seems to suffocate the room.

You don’t ask where those bruises came from. Curious as you are, you find you’re not sure if you really want to know. However, you’re not left to wonder for long.

“I’m pretty sure I put Tommy Hagan in the emergency room tonight.”

Your eyes nearly fall out of your head with how wide they get, head snapping up when he says that.

“I, um, got real pissed when you told me what he did to you, and I went from bar to bar until I found him. I told him to fix it, and he acted like it was some big joke, and I was just seeing red, but in my defense, he hit me first,” he rambles, gesturing vaguely to the slowly thawing slab of meat currently taking up half the real estate on his face.

You continue to stare at him, bug-eyed and unmoving. Steve finds himself unable to stop talking under your gaze.

“He said he or, someone, I guess, saw you come into my house the other night and never leave and so they like? Assumed the rest, and I’m sorry, because I definitely should have thought about how it might look before offering you the guest bed, or I should have taken you home, or I should have slept on the goddamn sidewalk so it was incredibly clear nothing was going on but I didn’t so I told him, or I guess I told his friends to pass along the message, to fix it and he was just out cold on the floor of the bar and I-”

“Steve.”

He finally stops, looking at you. He sees tears welling up in your eyes and immediately assumes it was something he said. He starts to apologize, but you hold up a hand, shaking your head.

“I just can’t believe you would do that for me,” you mutter, at a loss for words.

Steve, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, says, “I mean, of course. You’re my girl and someone was mean to you. I’m crazy about you, why would I let anyone hurt you just to take you away from me?” He cocks his head when he asks, eyes innocent. “And I mean, it doesn’t hurt that Tommy is the biggest jackass in all of Indiana and has been earning that knockout since we were like, 16,” he laughs out.

For a moment, the cognitive dissonance is winning out. You’d fought with yourself all day about the kind of person Steve Harrington is. Who, until very recently, he always was. All day, you’d let the voices of high school friends permeate your head, losing trust in your gut, in your own instincts, in what you thought and believed. You had yourself convinced that you’d allowed yourself to be blinded, had just wanted the attention, the affection, and that Steve had never ever changed, just got better at hiding it. But maybe the truth wasn’t so simple.

A tear falls. In assuming he had broken your trust, had you broken his?

You know it’s not your fault. Not really. That blame belongs squarely on the shoulders of a loser who’s going to have to explain to a less-than-nice nurse just why he came through the doors of the emergency room with a concussed head and a dislocated jaw.

But you fell for it. A few mean looks, some workplace gossips whispering in the break room, and you fell right into Tommy’s trap. Hook, line, sinker.

What was it that made you so easily believe the worst of the man who has, throughout your relationship, shown you nothing but affection and kindness?

Guilt gnaws at you, because you think you know.

“I’m so sorry for not believing you. And for all the things I said earlier. I was… I was cruel. I was mean and defensive and let some pseudo-high school drama put me right back in that place mentally, put you right back to who you were in my mind, and that was unfair. I was punishing you for your past, and you didn’t deserve that,” you say, looking over at Steve now.

But Steve is having none of it.

“I spent years being the worst version of myself to everyone around me whose pants I wasn’t trying to get into. I was vindictive and, sometimes? Flat out evil toward people who weren’t high enough up on the social ladder for me. If I had been in your position, I would have thought the same thing, because I have thoroughly earned that reputation. I don’t expect you to get rid of that past version of me in your head. I know you can’t just forget. You’re only human.”

He slides off the counter, frozen goods abandoned as he crosses over to you where you lean and looks you in your eyes.

“It’s my job to make up for it. To prove I’ve changed. That’s not trust that forms easily, it’s hard earned, and I intend to do everything I can to win it fair and square. To earn the right to be yours.”

You feel heat burn behind your cheeks at his sweet words. “So does that mean you forgive me for being a real bitch to you in front of customers today?”

Steve laughs, the sound jovial and refreshing after the day you’ve had.

“Sweetheart, there’s nothing to forgive, but how ‘bout I say all is forgiven if you can forgive me for being a huge dumbass?” His lopsided grin and the way he’s looking at you, all heart eyes and pure adoration… all of it is too much, too good, and all you can do is nod, a small, hopeful smile on your face.

“Good. Now, would’ya c’mere and let me comfort you? Let me take care of my girl after the shitty day she had?” He holds his arms open to you, hands waving you in.

You roll your eyes just a bit before giving in, immediately accepting the familiarity and warmth of your boyfriend’s arms. You’re so glad he’s still your boyfriend.

He kisses the top of your head and lets your face press into his chest, allowing his own heartbeat to soothe you as he holds one arm firmly around your waist, letting the other rub a flat palm up and down your back.

“Sweet girl, you didn’t deserve how they treated you today…” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear. “Only deserve good things… gonna give you all the good things to make up for it, yeah?”

The sheer relief you feel being here, with him uttering sweet nothings into your ear and treating you like the you’re the only thing that matters in the whole wide world, it makes up for it all, you think. Maybe tomorrow will be hard, maybe people at work will still suck, but you won’t be facing it alone. You’ll have Steve. That feels like enough.

You let yourself peek out from where you’d tucked yourself in so you can look up at this wonderful man who did so much today to prove that he’s not who everyone thinks he is. He looks back down at you and just smiles, staring into your eyes.

It may have been less than a day.

But, God, you had missed him.

So you indulge yourself, removing one of the arms from around his body and placing a hand far back on his neck, just enough to be able to run your fingers softly through the short pieces at the base, brushing your thumb along his jawline.

His smile falters for just half a second, replaced by the shivers you give him.

Encouraged by his reaction, you don’t hold back, using your hand as leverage to drag his face into yours for a sweet kiss. Your lips lock, and neither one of you moves away or lets go until the need for oxygen wins out. It’s stupid and sappy and exactly what you needed.

When you do finally have to let go, you’re both breathing hard, but Steve still finds it in him to make a suggestion.

“I think I left some sweats and a T-shirt here back when I helped you move in that new couch,” he gestures to the spot where you had just been wallowing, “How ‘bout I change and we get comfortable on the couch and you tell me every thought on that pretty little mind?”

You two do exactly that. He’s pleasantly surprised to find you’d laundered the very clothes he’d left over, something you shyly justified with the possibility that he might get stuck and need to spend the night, a concept which clearly flustered you to no end.

So there you are, curled up in Steve’s arms, same paused movie frame still on the TV, and you just rant about your day.

“…And if all of that wasn’t enough, she had the nerve to whisper one last snickering ‘whore’ to me on my way out! I don’t know where she gets off, especially since it was just last month that everyone heard she got caught sneaking out of the supply closet with the assistant manager!” Steve chuckles at that, “But it just sucked! I don’t mind being the center of attention, but good grief, not like this! These people are like vultures! It made me sad and mad and just a bunch of other things and it was ridiculous because it was all for something I didn’t even do!” you finish, Steve pressing comforting kisses into your temple.

“That’s just not right, honey. I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he says.

You lean into his chaste kisses, hands playing with his fingers where they sit clasped in your lap.

“I just… it’s ridiculous. I mean, half the reason I told you I wasn’t ready for sex was because I was so anxious, so terrified that somehow people would know and then they would judge me for it,” you shake your head. “And I know, that’s like bullshit, but it’s where my head was at. Today though? All I could think to myself all day was, I wish I would have just done it. I didn’t do anything and they still talked all their shit. If I’m going to be called a slut, a whore, easy, I should at least have gotten something out of it. Give ‘em something real to talk about, make the their bullshit worthwhile,” you muse. “Maybe I still should.”

You’re so lost in those musings that you barely notice the way Steve is staring at you, wondering if he’s had a stroke.

“What do you mean?” he says, certain he’s misheard.

He definitely knows what you mean. Being called on it, however, has you almost backtracking, your face so hot now he would surely get burned if he touched it.

You don’t look him in the eye, instead appearing very focused on each individual finger on his hands as they sit in your lap. You’re unfortunately noticing that he takes very good care of his nails, keeping them short and clean, perfect for— Stop that, you chide yourself, finally responding to your boyfriend, who is maybe having an aneurism behind you.

“I mean, just… it’s so stupid, the only reason I didn’t do something that I really wanted to do was because I was worried what people would say about me. That all seems pretty moot now so, I dunno… maybe we should… do it… sometime,” you mumble out, not sure if you’re embarrassed more by your seriously weird concerns about the opinions of others or the fact that you’re all but asking Steve to have sex with you.

Steve is not thinking about either option, though, being ever the opportunist.

“I would take you right now.”

Maybe you’re the one having that stroke?

You whip your head around and look at him, that same hungry look, the one he always gets when the two of you make out for just a liiiiiiittle bit too long, now gracing his face.

You whisper out, “Are you serious?”

He nearly scoffs at that. “I don’t play games when it comes to you,” a phrase that has a more than one meaning after his bar-side activities this evening, “I’ll always wait for your yes, and I’ll always stop at your no but… for that time in between? I’m making love to you like it’s my last day on earth.”

Your breath hitches, something deep within you warming and stirring at his words.

“Can I tell you something, Steve?”

“Always, gorgeous.”

You gulp.

“You’ve got my yes.”

Suddenly, you’ve been moved. You’re laying on your back on your couch and your very gorgeous boyfriend has one leg between your thighs, holding your face between both hands as his spine arches over your body and leans his face toward your face so he can kiss the air right out of your lungs.

You two had made out before but compared to this? Jesus H.

You hear the sound of your own soft whine as he readjusts and the movement presses his strong thigh firmly against your core. You watch as he breaks the kiss just to groan, already so satisfied, so intoxicated by you.

“That’s right pretty girl, just let yourself feel good, I’m gonna take care of everything, gonna take real good care of you,” he rambles, eyes squeezed shut as he nods at nobody in particular.

“You want that, baby? You gonna let me make you feel like you deserve?” He forces his eyes open to stare at you. Good God. You nod, another desperate sound that could maybe pass for a “Yes” pressing its way out of your chest.

“Atta girl,” he says before tearing his own shirt off, the garment landing somewhere on your living room floor.

He pushes his fingers beneath the fabric of the robe you’re still wearing, slowly slipping it off of you, saying, “Now anything you don’t want me to do, anything you want me to stop, you let me know, yeah? Let me hear you, baby.”

The robe is quickly abandoned beneath you as you all but blubber out a “Yeah, yes, Steve, I will.”

He stands up, leaving you confused for a moment.

“I’m not doing this with you for the first time on your couch. C’mon, sweet thing, up,” he says, reaching for your hands.

You take his and let him lead you to your own bedroom, shutting the door behind the two of you despite your living alone. In a way, it’s perfect, isolated in a way that makes you feel like it’s just you and him.

He turns to you, walking up to your form and kissing you again, his hands reclaiming their space on the sides of your face. You’re sure you’ll never get tired of that feeling.

His kisses last long, but almost not enough, his lips moving down to your jaw, your neck, searching for that spot that makes you—

“Oh, fuck, Steve.”

Found it.

He hones in on the spot, kissing and licking at it gently. His aim isn’t to leave a mark — not here, anyway — but just to make you feel good.

By the way you’re panting in his ear? He’s pretty sure he’s succeeding.

He walks you backwards, careful, only detaching himself from your neck to help lay you down gently. He crawls over top of you, his body caging yours.

Your shirt has ridden up, revealing a touch of midriff to Steve. It only makes him more feral.

He plays with the hem of your shirt, warm fingers brushing against the skin below.

“Can I take this off for you?” he asks.

You’re nodding, already moving to help him strip the fabric from your form. You weren’t wearing a bra because, truly, why would you be wearing one in your own home, so his eyes are free to land right on your chest and watch the soft jiggling as you breathe in and out.

You had worried that he might pick out spots on your body that made you insecure, but that worry flies out the window when you see that same hungry look back in his eyes.

Frankly, he looks so desperate, you almost feel bad.

“It’s okay, Steve, do what you want. I’ll tell you to stop if I don’t like it,” you say, encouraging him.

You truly do not have to tell him twice.

First he’s kissing that spot on your neck again, earning a breathy sigh and a pleased smile from your lips. Then he travels, lips attaching to your collarbone, and you feel it as he kisses his way down to your breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth, thumb rubbing over the other one as his tongue works at this one.

That earns a good bit more than a sigh.

“Holy shit, Steve… that feels so, ah,” your voice grows pitchy as you bite back your moans. Your refusal to let him hear you doesn’t bother him one bit. It just means he has to work harder to pull those pretty sounds from you.

He switches his lips to your other breast, mouth laving messily over this nipple as his other thumb slips and slides across the one he just left.

You already feel so good, but you know he’s just getting started. The thought makes you shiver.

Once he’s satisfied with the attention he’s given to your nipples, he expands his journey across the map of your skin and starts sucking at the underside of your breasts, leaving marks only you and he will ever get to see. Whichever breast he’s not busy leaving darkening splotches on is being squeezed and squished, only adding to the feelings that all seem to be directed right at your quickly-soaking cunt.

Having left you littered with marks, some even landing on your torso and the soft skin of your belly, Steve looks up at you, lips swollen and wet from his hard work.

“Please say I can go down on you,” he sighs out, sounding like he’s in another world.

You balk at that for a moment, worried.

“You don’t have to Steve, I know guys don’t really like-”

“I want to. So, so fucking bad. I want to make you feel good and I need to taste you or I might actually explode. I don’t care how you keep it or what it looks like, I just, fuck!” His voice is pleading, his desire bleeding through every syllable.

He takes his kisses down to your hips, pushing your sweatpants and panties down just a touch to reveal more of your entirely-too-kissable body. He’s sucking at the thin skin there, leaving his mark on yet another inch of you.

“Please baby, if you want it, please let me,” he whines out, an incredibly sweet and needy sound.

Well shit. Who are you to say no to that?

“Okay, yeah, yes, you can, Steve,” you rush out, turned on beyond belief.

“God, yes, that’s my girl,” he mutters out, not even pausing to consider the effect those words are having on you.

You’d find it inconsiderate if it didn’t make you want him so much more.

His fingers are quick to hook back into both your bottoms, tapping the side of your hip so you’ll lift them as he all but tears the clothing from your legs. He easily spreads your now-bare limbs, eyes laser-focused on the absolutely sopping wet pussy that he unveils.

“Holy shit… is this all because of me?” he questions, experimentally sliding a finger through your folds, gathering your slick.

You laugh, breathless. “Have we been in the same room this whole time? I don’t think I’ve ever been this turned on in my life.”

His dick has been hard for a hot minute now, so that confession earns an almost painful twitch.

He can’t find it in himself to ask any more questions, just sliding your pretty thighs over his shoulder, kissing them as he makes his way down to where you need him most.

The first lick is thorough, but gentle. A trembling whimper leaves your lips, then the sound of his name.

He finds himself moaning at your taste, desperation to drink you in winning out.

He presses his tongue right into your waiting hole, occasional moans against you earning him yet another flood of your juices to taste, a tantalizing squeeze of your walls around him only complimenting the flavor.

He moves to lap at your folds, greedy, head only coming to a stop once he’s got the flat of his tongue rubbing circles over your clit. You finally lose the battle you’d been fighting, letting out a moan that makes you thankful your last next door neighbor just moved out last week.

Steve, cheeky as ever, smiles at this, hot breath from a laugh billowing past his tongue and onto you. He’s almost too good at this.

He gives thick, teasing licks to your clit, each one serving as punctuation as he talks to you.

“Best fucking pussy… Fuck… could eat this pretty pussy… mm… for the rest of my life… so good,” he murmurs, absolutely drunk on you.

“Steve…” you whine out, needing him so badly it nearly hurts.

“Oh, darlin’, I know,” Lick. “I know, pretty girl,” Lick. “Just need’ya,” Lick. “To be patient for me,” Lick. “Doing so good,” Lick. “Making me so proud.”

He picks right then to properly dive in, licking and sucking on you until you can hear your own heartbeat, feel it in your throat. The sounds you make for him are downright debauched, curses and expletives floating in between the sound of his name. He couldn’t be happier.

You’ve been clenching around nothing for some time now as been pleasuring you, though, and that doesn’t sit right with him.

So, before you know it, Steve is working one, then two fingers into your dripping heat, reaching farther inside of you than you ever could. Your hands quickly seat themselves among the roots of his hair, holding his head exactly where you want him.

Your cries ring out freely through the air, a weak, “I’m so close,” the only interruption. Your thighs have begun to squeeze around Steve’s head. He’s not sure if you’re trying to keep him there forever or shut him out but, it’s all the same to him. He’d happily wear you like a pair of earmuffs for the rest of the night. Best damn pair he ever owned, if he did say so himself.

He holds steady with his actions, moving his fingers just so inside you, repeating the same motion of his tongue against your clit until it hurts, but he’s well rewarded for his efforts.

“Oh, fuck, Steve, I think I’m… fuck, I’m gonna—” you’re forced to cut yourself off as an orgasm overtakes your body, pouring pounds of pleasure over you all at once like one of those giant buckets at a water park. It’s electric, overwhelming, and so, so good. Your moans lilt out, high pitched and shaped something like Steve’s name.

He works you through it; he doesn’t stop until you peel his head from between your legs, pulling him up for a kiss that leaves you both lightheaded, exchanging moans between each others mouths as your bodies press together. You can taste yourself on him, something you didn’t expect to make you as feral as it does.

Steve breaks the kiss, sitting back on his knees to admire his handiwork. Gorgeous, angry little hickies have already begun to bloom beneath your satin skin. He’s excited for the day they fade so he can go back and replace them.

You watch him, laying breathless while he ogles you with a smirk, scanning your body up and down to appreciate the beautiful mess he’s made of it.

It makes you decide that payback may be due.

Steve stands, ridding himself of his bottoms, hard cock swinging free. You can’t help but think to yourself how pretty he is, how unfair it is that he’s so pretty everywhere.

You move to get up on your knees in front of Steve where he stands next to the bed, kissing his face, his jaw, his neck, his chest, his—

“Wait, wait, baby, wait,” he stops you mid-descent. “As hot as it is that you want to return the favor, I don’t think I’ll last and I really, really need to be inside you.”

It’s your turn to smirk now, but before you do, you turn those same pleading eyes he weaponized against you right back at him.

“Please, Stevie? I’ll be gentle, I’ll go real slow,” you say, fluttering your eyelashes up at him.

He presses his palms into his eyes, losing the fight for control going on in his head.

“…Fuck, just please be careful, no funny business, yeah?” he sighs out, looking down at you.

You let on that smirk now, and finish kissing your way down his body, laying on your stomach. Your tongue just barely teases the tip, a small kitten lick that grants you a drop of precum. He tenses at the feeling, sheer pleasure already making him regret his own weakness toward you. It’s all he can do not to blow his load at just the idea of what’s going on right now.

Gently, you place a hand beneath his dick, feeling the weight of it, your mouth watering. You wrap your fingers around it, careful not to use too much pressure. You look him in the eye as you pull just the head into your mouth, moaning around him.

“You’re gonna kill me, holy shit,” Steve says.

You giggle a bit, moving your mouth up and down just a bit, cautious of any sudden movements that might prove too overwhelming.

“Feels too good baby, won’t be able to keep going like this,” he pants, sensitive and whining.

You pull off of him with a soft pop. “Compromise, then?”

He’s not sure what you mean until-

“Jesus fucking Christ baby, holy shit, shit, shit!” Steve is fighting for his life at the sight of you softly stroking his cock with one of his balls pulled securely into your mouth.

You can tell by that reaction and by the purely distraught look on his face that he won’t let you stay down here for much longer, so you make the most of it.

You suck gently, continuing to stroke. You switch to the other side, but not without licking a fat stripe from his base to his tip, earning a strangled noise of pleasure.

“God, you’re cruel,” he whimpers out, unable to contain his own soft moans and sighs as you work.

Steve feels himself getting a little closer than he’d like. “Alright, that’s enough of that for you, missy,” he says as he pulls away from your touch, laughing at the noise of protest you make as he does.

“Don’t worry darlin’, just lay back for me,” he says, walking over to the jeans he had discarded earlier.

You do as he says with only a slight grumble, but can’t help yourself as you watch Steve walk. Even his ass is pretty, you think as you watch him bend over and pull out his wallet, plucking a foil packet from its confines.

He turns around then, and you’ve been caught staring.

Steve smirks when you rush to meet his eyes, feigning nonchalance. “Perv,” he teases before getting back into the bed with you.

You’d protest, but then his hands, those hands, are working deftly to unwrap a condom and roll it on, and suddenly you find yourself entirely uninterested in your status as a pervert.

He crawls back on top of you, moving to kiss you softly, a sharp contrast to the intensity of the moments you two just shared.

He breaks it only to say three words: “I love you.”

Forehead pressed into his, you know you should be shocked, but you aren’t. It feels right. You tell him, too.

“I love you, Steve.”

He smiles at you dopily, and you’re sure a matching smile adorns your face.

“Are you ready, baby?” He asks, interlocking one of his hands with yours, nothing but adoration and loving concern in his eyes.

You nod. “I want this, I want you,” you tell him honestly.

Steve presses one last sweet kiss to your lips, selfishly savoring the taste of them for just a little too long. He breaks it with a sigh. “I’ll go slow at first, sweetheart. You let me know if you need me to stop.”

You hum in agreement, focus resting between the two of you where he’s got your legs spread, kneeling in between them as he guides his cock to your entrance.

Slowly, almost too slowly, he pushes himself in, both of you groaning in relief when the head is in. He presses forward, meeting little resistance from your slippery heat. He sighs happily once he’s seated in you fully, just enjoying being enveloped in your warmth.

He probably would have stayed there if it wasn’t for the wiggle of your hips and the sudden clench he felt from inside of you.

“You can move, Stevie. Need it,” you sigh.

He takes the instruction, and both of you are wrecked as he works into a rhythm.

Your eyes flutter shut as you moan, but that won’t do for Steve.

“Nuh uh,” he says, dropping the hand he’s holding and getting down, shifting his weight to his elbows so he can hold your face in his hands. “Eyes on me. I don’t want to miss a thing.” His tone urges your compliance, so you give it to him, looking into his eyes.

Fuck.

The way your eyes bore into each others is nearly too much, the feeling of his hands splayed across your cheeks, your jaw, your temple… your senses are being flooded, and all your brain can compute is Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve.

He can see every reaction you give him, every hitch of your breath, adjusting until he’s in the perfect position for you, the squeezes of your fluttering cunt driving him wild.

You’re helpless, being held captive by your own pleasure, and Steve is only adding to it, talking to you in ramblings of his own pleasure.

“God, you know what you’re fucking doing to me?”

“Feels so good, sweet girl. Never wanna fuck another pussy again, only yours.”

“That’s it, baby, take it, take it. Doing so well for me, my gorgeous girl.”

“You like that? That feel good? Oh, I bet it does, huh?”

“Taking me like a champ, always knew you’d be good for me.”

You want to respond, you really do, but the way he’s talking to you, the way he’s pounding into you just right, the way he’s looking you right in your eyes as he speaks this utter filth, has left you wordless, only moaning and whining out little ah, ah, ah, fuck’s that only spur him on.

You feel your undoing start to form and begin to reach down, needing some attention on your clit to cross there.

“Don’t do that baby, let me. You close?” he says as he shifts all of his weight now to the one elbow, keeping your face in that hand as the other snakes down to rub circles just where you need them, making you whimper, fighting to keep your eyes open.

You nod at his question. “So close… gonna make me cum again, Stevie,” you manage to get out, snaking your arms around his neck, clinging to him desperately.

His eyes never leave yours. “Tell me what you need. Wanna feel you when you cum, feel you soak my cock.”

“F-faster.”

You barely get the word out before he starts to nearly double his speed, desperate to get you there, sharp, shallow, fast thrusts leaving you to just wail.

“Oh, fuck, Steve, please, please, fuck, please,” you ramble out, unsure what you’re begging for.

“C’mon, give it to me, you’re right there, cum for me.”

The perfect circles on your clit, the pistoning of his hips, the way he stares at you so intensely, egging you on? It all proves to be too much, and you feel yourself thrown off that cliff and into pure, sweet pleasure as your release rolls through you, Steve’s name on your tongue.

Steve cants into you desperately, rhythm breaking as he chases his own high, which is coming on much faster largely because of you. Feeling you grip him like a vice, and having watched just how angelic you look when you cum? He wasn’t going to be able to hold back much longer.

Overstimulated and desperate, you start to egg him on the same way he had egged you on.

“Please, cum, Steve, I wanna feel it. Need to feel you finish so bad, feels too good, please, baby,” you breathe out. “Do it just for me, yeah?”

That’s a wrap for Steve. His thrusts grow lazy as you feel him twitch inside you, condom filling quickly with his load. He keeps thrusting until it hurts, only then settling down, pressing his forehead into yours, kissing all over your face gently as you both bask in the afterglow.

“You’re so perfect,” he mutters, his desperation for you to hear him, believe him, making his expression look almost pained as he squeezes his eyes shut. “It’s always gonna be you for me, you know that?”

You’re unsure how to respond, really. You find yourself so wrapped up in a warm, buzzy feeling, your adoration for him leaking all over your brain’s wiring, causing it to short circuit. So all you do is nod and close the distance between your mouths, giving him a kiss so gentle and loving that catches him in the moment. He wishes he could stay like this forever.

You both fight to end the kiss several times, but each time either of you pulls back even a little bit, you find yourselves pressing right back in for just one more.

When it finally does break, you look up at him and see the man you always knew, deep down, was here to stay. Your Steve.

“Thank you.”

He cocks his head. “You’re welcome, but what for?” Ever the gentleman.

“Just for being you.”

The two of you lay on your couch, Pretty in Pink over and quickly exchanged for When Harry Met Sally, an appropriately raunchy film for present company and previous activities.

You called out of work for the next day shortly after the two of you finally peeled out of bed. Steve had wrapped his arms around you from behind, pressing soft encouraging kisses into your neck, your back, your shoulder as you rang your boss. You didn’t care if they thought you were only calling out because you were embarrassed; you know the truth doesn’t matter to these people, so you won’t waste it on them. All you want to do tomorrow is spend the day with your boyfriend, so you decided that that is what you’re going to do.

So there the you are, curled up in Steve’s arms for the foreseeable future, lips occasionally pressing into his wrists and hands as you held them. He hadn’t bothered with putting his shirt back on, and you let your robe sit where the two of you had ditched it earlier in favor of the warmth radiating from the chest against your back.

Sally fakes her orgasm in the diner, earning a laugh from both of you.

“I’m sure glad that I don’t ever have to question if you actually came,” Steve mutters, prompting you to tease.

“About that…”

“Bullshit!”

You giggle as his arms squeeze you in tighter, his lips attacking the side of your face and neck.

“Alright, alright, I yield, I yield! You are a true man in a sea of boys, you had me coming like a freight train, you win!”

His attack softens, smiley kisses becoming more intentional. He doesn’t let go of his now-tightened hold on you, though. He just likes having you close too much.

Steve mutters into your ear, shaking you gently in his arms to make his point. “I meant what I said earlier, you know. It wasn’t in the heat of the moment, I do love you.”

Somehow you find yourself far more flustered when he says that to you with his clothes on, but you know you feel the same.

“And I love you, Steve. Thank you for everything you did for me today… and I do mean everything,” you say, only a bit cheeky.

He nips at your ear, but still says, “Anytime, pretty girl. Anytime.”

You turn just a bit, hands tracing over his bruised knuckle and face, worry forming behind your eyes, just a small frown playing at your lips.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to try to cover those up for you? A quick run to the pharmacy and I’m sure I could find what I need to color correct,” you muse, but Steve just shakes his head.

“Nah, I kinda dig them. Makes me look a little badass! If anyone asks, I’ll just tell them they should see the other guy,” he pauses, but then says, quietly, “Plus, it’s pretty much like a shining badge of having defended your honor. Why would I ever cover that?” There’s a teasing tone behind his words but you can tell he really means it.

“Alright. You’re sweet. But please defend my honor without fists next time, I don’t want to have to look Hopper in the eye when I bail you out.”

“No promises, sweetheart,” he says, mischievous. You can hear his grin.

You roll your eyes, but you still smile.

You think you could get used to a life like this.

Thank you for reading! 🩵

[pretentious-blonde]

first chapter

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: steve stops by the bookshop for his students and leaves an impression—one that lingers when the reader sees just how much he cares about them

warnings: literally none, steve is a softie!!

a/n: here we go again! short and sweet intro chapter before we get to the good stuff. also i was grinning at my screen writing steve interacting with the kids <3

series masterlist

The morning bird song filtered through the lace curtains draped across the front windows of your grandmother’s old bookshop—now your bookshop.

The wooden floors, worn by decades of footsteps, creaked quietly beneath your shoes. You had just flipped the sign to declare that, yes, you were open for business, though not a single soul was out on the pavement yet. The serenity of a small town in the early hours felt soothing, and you allowed yourself to breathe in the stillness of the morning.

Upstairs in the modest flat you now called home, the kettle had whistled only moments before, providing you with a simple comfort—a warm cup of coffee. Steam rose from the mug like a contented sigh, warming your fingers and your chest. 

As you descended the short flight of stairs to the shop, you couldn’t help but marvel at how seamlessly your new life in Hawkins had begun to take shape. Yes, there were boxes you still hadn’t fully unpacked and occasional bursts of Midwest weather that threatened your peace, but on mornings like this, you felt sure you had made the right choice.

This shop, bequeathed to you in your grandmother’s will, carried a deep history and charm. You had wrestled with the idea of selling it—a practical move, some might say—but the thought of parting with such a beloved space felt entirely wrong. So here you were, two months into a life of dusting ancient shelves, cataloguing novels by authors known and unknown, and greeting the locals who had begun to trickle in as regulars. 

It wasn’t always smooth sailing. The old filing system your grandmother had used was more a labyrinth than a library, with handwritten ledgers that offered few clues. But slowly, day by day, you’d learned to navigate her quirks, an exercise that felt like stepping into her shoes and forging a path of your own.

You settled in behind the counter, a cosy nook framed by shelves of bestsellers and classics alike. The lighting was soft, mostly amber-hued floor lamps with tasseled shades that cast an inviting glow. Mismatched cushions had found their way onto plush armchairs and vintage sofas arranged in corners throughout the space. It felt less like a store and more like a living room that just happened to sell books. 

To you, that was precisely the point—somewhere quiet, welcoming, and full of potential.

Taking a careful sip from your coffee, you let yourself sink into a well-worn seat behind the register. There was a quaint luxury in these early moments, before the day’s customers arrived, and you cherished the silence. A part of you wondered if you should tackle the stack of new releases that needed shelving, but the comfort of your chair—and the lingering caffeine aroma—kept you rooted in place. 

You reached under the counter and pulled out a paperback you’d been meaning to read. The cover teased an enchanting story, and you were eager to get lost in it.

It never occurred to you that someone might stroll in so soon after opening. Eight o’clock in Hawkins seemed far too early for anything but coffee. Still, the unexpected had become more common these days, and the jingle of the bell over the door startled you from your first page. It rang out, clear and bright in the morning quiet, signaling the arrival of your first customer of the day.

He didn’t exactly look like the typical morning browser, appearing slightly out of breath from the chill outside. His cheeks were tinged pink, the tip of his nose a little red, and his hair—once styled impeccably—looked tousled by the wind. A muted green jumper peeked out from beneath a casual jacket, and he wore well-fitted jeans that bore faint traces of scuff at the knees. He hovered for a moment near the threshold, glancing around as though making sure he was in the right place.

The glow of your shop seemed to settle around him, beckoning him inside. You could see the tension in his shoulders lessen when he realised he wasn’t intruding on some hidden enclave but rather stepping into a homey space. He offered a tentative half-smile when he caught sight of you behind the counter.

“Uh, hi,” he began, clearing his throat as if to ground himself.

“Hello,” you returned, offering a welcoming smile.

His eyes flickered across your face, taking in your kind expression, before he schooled himself into polite cordiality—reminding himself he had come here for a reason, not just to gawk at the cute new bookseller.

“Yeah, I… I was wondering if you could help me,” he said, voice soft.

You closed the book you’d been reading and placed it to the side, standing from your chair to greet him more fully. 

“What can I do for you?” 

He cleared his throat once more—nervous habit, perhaps—and gestured loosely at the shelves behind you. 

“You’re not… the usual lady who runs this place.”

“No, I’m not. I, uh, took it over recently,” you chuckle, trying to keep the note of sorrow out of your voice as you thought of your late grandmother. “Just reopened it a couple of months ago.”

“Huh,” he said, nodding, clearly absorbing that bit of information. “Good to know.” He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. “I’m looking for some kids’ books.”

The corners of your mouth lifted in a gentle smile. “Kids’ books?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. It was a little awkward, the way he rocked on his heels, as though not entirely sure how to stand. 

You offered to show him the children’s section, stepping out from behind the counter and leading him through a short row of middle-grade novels. The far corner of the shop was dedicated in bright colors, whimsical cover art, and lower shelves that invited small hands to grab at storybooks.

“This is where we keep the children’s section,” you said, sweeping your hand over the shelves. “How old are yours?”

He blinked in surprise, eyes widening. 

“Oh—oh, I don’t… I’m not— I don’t have any.” A flush of pink returned to his cheeks, and he quickly added, “I need them for work.”

“Work?” Your brows arched in curiosity. 

“Yeah, I’m a teacher. Second grade,” he explained. “My kids—they’re around seven or eight.”

“Ah,” you breathed, nodding. “That makes sense.” 

Turning back to the shelves, you placed a hand on the upper row of picture-heavy chapter books. 

“These are aimed at eight-to-ten-year-olds,” you said, tapping a few titles you recognised as popular, “and these down here,” you crouched to point out another set, “are a bit younger, around five to seven.”

He followed your gestures intently, glancing between you and the books. You didn’t miss the slight dart of his eyes, noticing the way he took you in with a curiosity and—appreciation? Though he seemed quick to hide it.

“Honestly, I’m not super well-versed on the new stuff,” he admitted, the confession made all the more sweet by his earnest tone. “What would you recommend?”

You straightened up and began scanning the spines. 

“Well, we have a few encyclopedias that are really engaging for that age group—lots of pictures, fun facts. The classics, too—Roald Dahl, E.B. White. They never go out of style.”

“Perfect, yeah,” he said, nodding along, already imagining reading the stories aloud. Then, almost unprompted, his eyes lit up in a flash of recognition. “Oh—there’s this one book I read as a kid, about a boy who, uh… posted himself through the mailbox or something?”

The excitement in his voice was contagious, and you couldn’t help but giggle, your own smile widening. In that moment, you saw how approachable he was—a man who loved sharing a piece of his childhood with his students. His face reddened at your soft laughter, but he seemed more embarrassed by his enthusiastic outburst than upset.

“Flat Stanley,” you offered, the name rolling easily off your tongue.

“That’s the one!” He looked almost triumphant. “Man, my mom used to read that to me all the time, can’t believe I forgot the name.”

“I don’t think we have a physical copy right now.” You scanned the rows but shook your head.  “But I can get it delivered if you’d like?”

Relief washed over his features as he released a breath he probably hadn’t realised he was holding. 

“Oh, thank God,” he said, smiling. “That’s great. Didn’t want them to be disappointed.” His gaze flickered over you for a moment. 

“Why don’t you just borrow from the library?” You tilted your head. 

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“Well… we tried, but the books kind of got destroyed. Kids that age can be… a lot,” he explained with a dry chuckle, eyes crinkling at the memory. “The librarians and I have come to a mutual agreement that I should probably source my own copies.”

“I see.” You couldn’t help but grin, picturing a bunch of rambunctious kids flipping through pages with sticky fingers, leaving chaos in their wake. “That can happen.”

Standing next to him as he peered intently at the spines, you felt a fondness bloom for this stranger who cared enough about his class to restock his own library. 

He wasn’t exactly bad to look at either. You almost envied his students, getting to see him like this every day—but you quickly redirected your thoughts before they could wander too far. You were supposed to be helping him out, not gawking while he tried to do something sweet.

A quiet fell between you, his profile illuminated as he studied each title.

“Hey,” you offered gently, feeling brave, “if you want, I could pick out a selection for you and order them in? Might be easier than you spending your whole Saturday leafing through everything.”

“Really? That would be… amazing, actually.” His face lit up at the suggestion, and the gratitude in his eyes made something flutter pleasantly in your chest. 

“Of course,” you said, gesturing for him to follow you back to the counter. You made your way around to your usual spot, grabbing a pen and a patterned notepad. 

“Alright,” you began, poised to write. “Do you have a budget for these?”

“Not really,” he answered, shrugging one shoulder. “I figure about ten books, give or take. Whatever you recommend. I want to cover all the bases.”

You jotted down a note, nodding in approval. 

“No problem.” You glanced up at him. “Any particular genres you had in mind?”

“No, just a little bit of everything. Some nonfiction to keep ‘em curious, few adventure stories… Maybe some silly stuff too.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Kids love silly.”

“Silly, got it.” You chuckled, writing that down. “And where should I send them? Or—what school was it?”

“Hawkins Elementary.” He smiled, almost proudly, and you wondered for a moment if he had grown up around here.

“Makes sense,” you murmured, scribbling another note. Then you paused, pen poised above the page. “And can I have a name?”

“Oh! Right, sorry. It’s uh, Steve. Steve Harrington.”

Repeating his name softly as you wrote it, you offered him a warm, reassuring look. Steve Harrington. It had a certain ring to it. The corners of your lips curved up as you thought about how well ‘Harrington’ would look on the small slip you’d attach to his order.

He swallowed, finding your attention unexpectedly disarming.

“Alright then, Steve. When do you need these by?”

“As soon as possible,” he admitted, looking a bit helpless. “If that’s alright, I’d love to have them by Monday—though I know that’s short notice.”

You checked the small calendar pinned to the side of the counter and tapped the date lightly.

“We’re closed Mondays, so I can have them delivered then—no problem at all.”

“You can?” His relief was so palpable it made you laugh. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I’ll do my best.” The warmth in your voice matched the gratitude in his eyes. 

He lingered a moment, as though he wanted to say something else—perhaps ask more questions or keep chatting, but he caught himself, clearing his throat again. 

“Thank you,” he repeated, more quietly this time. “For all your help.”

You waved off the formality. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He gave a small nod, a smile tugging at his lips. Before he turned to leave, he lifted a hand in a goodbye wave. You echoed the motion, finding the gesture unexpectedly sweet. As the door swung open, letting in a brief gust of cold air, you could see how his cheeks coloured once again in the bracing wind.

The bell jingled to mark his exit, and you simply watched the door close behind him. He trudged back onto the pavement, jacket pulled snug. He allowed himself a quick glance through the front window, catching one last glimpse of you looking after him with that gentle smile. A slight flutter caught him off-guard—relief at having found exactly what he needed for his students and a barely-there thump at meeting someone he hadn’t before. 

It’s not everyday someone new moves to town, especially one around his age and with such a soft demeanour. He walked away, the faintest grin played on his lips, leaving him feeling lighter than when he’d first stepped inside. 

You sank back into your seat behind the counter, already thinking of the perfect selection of books to gather for the following week. But also wondering if you’d see that soft-spoken teacher again soon.

Monday morning brought a crispness to the air that you felt through your coat. You sat parked in front of Hawkins Elementary School, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel, trying to summon enough courage to make your delivery. 

The box of books you’d so carefully selected for Steve Harrington and his second graders was tucked in the backseat—carefully wedged between a pile of tote bags and a folded-up umbrella. It wasn’t heavy enough to break your back, but it still felt significant, because of what it contained and who it was going to.

You hadn’t expected to feel nervous. This was, after all, part of your job—providing customers with the books they needed. Yet a twinge of excitement emerged in your stomach whenever you remembered his soft brown eyes and that quietly dorky grin. 

He’d seemed so genuinely pleased when you mentioned Flat Stanley; you’d practically sprinted to the phone after he left, calling your supplier to confirm you could get a copy in time. Part of you told yourself you were just being a good shopkeeper—wanting a repeat customer, ensuring satisfaction, all that. But in truth, you knew there was a deeper motive at play. 

You wanted to see him smile again.

Drawing a steadying breath, you stepped out of your car and walked around to open the trunk. The box was bulky, and a small grunt escaped your lips as you lifted it out. Clutching it carefully in both arms, you made your way across the short walkway to the main entrance. The school doors gleamed in the late morning light, and you nudged them open with your shoulder, the scent of floor polish and crayons that seemed to greet you as soon as you stepped inside.

A lone receptionist—an older gentleman in a sweater vest—looked up from behind his computer screen as you approached. You offered your brightest smile, placing the box gently on the desk before explaining, 

“Good morning.” You greet him. “I have a delivery for Steve Harrington?”

“Yes, he’s here.” His eyebrows perked with polite curiosity. “What would it be for?”

“Just books.” You slid the lid off the box, revealing a tidy row of colorful spines. “I work at the bookshop on Oak Street.”

Recognition dawned in his eyes as he nodded. 

“Ah, yes. Been in there a few times—nice place,” he noted, then glanced over his shoulder at a clock on the wall. “He’s probably with his class right now. Break’s in about ten minutes, though, so you might catch him.”

He rose to his feet and gave you clear directions. 

“Down the hall, first room on your left once you reach the end.”

“Thank you so much.” You slid the box’s lid back into place, gathering it carefully in your arms again.

The corridor stretched ahead, brightly lit by overhead fixtures. Child-sized artwork taped to the walls shifted in a faint draft—handprints in rainbow paint, construction paper collages, and scrawling pencil drawings of families and pets. 

Everything felt warm, friendly. Despite being new to Hawkins, you already felt the community’s kindness wrapping around you.

You found the door labeled “2B” easily enough. The window set into the top allowed a small glimpse inside, and what you saw made your breath catch in delight. 

Steve was crouched next to a student’s chair, his posture open and attentive as he listened to a young girl excitedly explain something, her little hands gesturing in all directions. His own hands were braced on his knees, and you could see his eyes crinkle when he smiled. He nodded along as though whatever she was saying was the most important information in the world.

It was absolute, wonderful chaos—kids milling around in their seats, pages turning, pencils scribbling, a few quiet squeals of excitement from a group in the corner that filtered through the door. But Steve seemed perfectly at home there in the midst of it all, soothing any anxious energy with gentle instruction.

A light rap of your knuckles on the door went unheard—Steve was so focused on the small child in front of him, nodding along to the excited chatter that spilled from the little one’s mouth that the sound didn’t register. You lingered for a moment, balancing the heavy box in your arms. 

When his attention didn’t shift on the second attempt, you carefully pushed the door open with your hip. That slight movement must have caught his eye because he glanced over, registered your presence, and offered you a bright smile. He held his finger up apologetically and mouthed a: “One sec.” You responded with a quick nod, glancing around the room and taking it all in.

The classroom was pure, bursting with the wonder only associated with childhood. The walls were lined with drawings, some wobbly stick figures with unmistakable swoopy hair, others detailed crayon masterpieces that clearly took serious effort. They stretched across the length of the room like an ever-growing mural of creativity, pinned up with care rather than neat precision. 

His desk was a happy kind of cluttered—pens in every colour were scattered in cups and across papers, alongside little stacks of homemade cards with messy, heartfelt messages scrawled in different handwriting. A few framed photos sat amongst the chaos—one of Steve surrounded by his students, another of him and you assume his friends, grinning mid-laugh.

The reading corner was cosy, though the shelves looked slightly bare, with a rug that was a little too soft and bean bags that were well-loved and possibly past their prime. A small chalkboard at the front had doodles in different colours, little inside jokes between him and the class. In one corner, a calendar was decorated with goofy stickers marking birthdays and "important events," a few glittery stars suggested the kids fully endorsed it.

Everything about the space screamed safe, fun, and loved. You could feel it in the way the room was lived-in, the way nothing felt stiff or too polished. He had poured himself into this place, making it somewhere his kids actually wanted to be. And it was impossible not to smile looking at it.

Glancing back at him, you took a moment to appreciate the sight of him in his element. He wore a rust-colored jumper, tucked into jeans with a bold smear of what looked like red paint on one thigh—an inevitable hazard of teaching little ones, apparently. 

He had a calm, attentive expression as he finished listening to the girl, who was still gesturing animatedly. When he finally stood up, his sweater rode up just slightly, revealing the curve of his waist before he pulled it quickly back into place. You caught yourself thinking he looked genuinely beautiful, even amid a swirl of classroom hysterics. He crossed the room with an apologetic smile. 

“Hello, again,” he greeted you in a voice that held gratitude. Your heart did a small flip at the way his gaze flickered from the box in your arms to your eyes. You couldn’t resist a playful quip. 

“Delivery for Mr. Harrington?”

A faint flush coloured his cheeks, and he chuckled under his breath. 

“Yep, uh, that’s me.” He reached out and gently lifted the box from your arms, setting it on his desk at the front as children laughed and played in the background. “Sorry you had to carry it all the way here.”

You wave a hand in front as if to tell him not to worry, he glanced at the clock mounted above the door and turned back to you. 

“Could you give me five minutes? I wanna show them what we got.” The eager gleam in his eyes was entirely too charming.

“Sure,” you agreed softly, catching the brief glimpse of excitement on his face as he lifted the lid and took in the neat stack of titles you’d chosen. His smile widened when he spotted the beloved Flat Stanley perched near the top, and you could almost feel the tension melt from his shoulders as he realised you’d pulled through.

Yeah, maybe you wanted it to be the first book he saw. So what?

Steve turned to the class, a gentle command in his voice as he clapped his hands twice. Almost instantly, the children quieted. You half expected them to carry on shrieking, but they gazed up at him with unwavering attention, surprising you with their composure. In that moment, you understood that these kids trusted him completely.

“Alright, everyone, eyes up here. We have something very exciting that’s just arrived.” His tone was soft yet enthusiastic. “Someone was kind enough to make a trip to bring us something special. Any guesses what’s in this box? Hands up.”

Little hands shot up in the air—or, in some cases, little voices called out answers without waiting to be chosen. Steve grinned, an indulgent, affectionate smile that lit up his entire face. After a chorus of guesses—“Chocolate!” “Dinosaurs!”—he chuckled and reached inside the box, retrieving Flat Stanley to hold up for emphasis.

“If anyone said books, you were correct.” He pointed the cover toward the sea of wide-eyed students, then gave you a grateful glance that made your stomach flutter. Turning back to the group, he continued. “We have some brand-new books, and these are just for us. That means we have to look after them, okay?”

A short silence followed. Then, with a gentle prompt.

“Can anyone tell me what we are not going to do with them?” 

Every hand in the room shot up. 

“Rip them!” A small boy yelled out.

“That’s right,” Steve agreed, beaming at the child. “The pages tear easily. What else?”

“We don’t throw them!” Another student chimed in.

Steve’s expression flickered with amused severity, no doubt recalling some past mishap. 

“Exactly. No throwing—especially not at each other.”

Unable to resist joining in, you raised your hand along with the children. Steve’s gaze shifted to you, a hint of delight in his eyes that you’d play along. You offered your own rule. 

“We don’t draw on them.”

“Absolutely,” he said, nodding sagely and turning back to his class. “Some of them already have pictures, and they don’t need you adding more, okay? If you want to draw, we have plenty of paper at the back.”

They all nodded, and you felt a rush of affection for his patient approach. He wasn’t stern in the way some teachers might be; instead, he treated the kids like partners, inviting them to share in the responsibility. You couldn’t help but feel a little flustered at how effortlessly he seemed to balance control and kindness.

Steve turns to you with a grateful expression before addressing the class again.

"Okay, now what do we all say?" he prompts, his voice warm and expectant.

A disjointed chorus of "Thank you!" erupts from the kids, some louder than others, a few delayed, and at least one who just echoes the words a beat too late like an afterthought. The sincerity in their little voices makes your cheeks warm, and you can’t help but laugh.

He was clearly proud as he glances around at his students, then flicks his eyes up at the clock,                                telling him it was nearly break time. 

“Alright, we are gonna take a short break. Grab your snacks from your cubbies, and then come back to your desks, alright?”

A joyful scramble ensued—chairs scraped against the floor, and the children dashed off in unison, giggling as they rifled through bright backpacks and lunchboxes. 

Steve turned to you with a lightness in his eyes, the excited buzz of his students drifting behind him. His lips curved into that grateful smile you remembered from the bookshop. 

“Honestly, thank you so much for doing this,” he said, quietly enough that only you could hear.

“It’s no problem, really—it’s kind of my job.” You felt a warm flush rise to your cheeks, and you tried to deflect any praise.

Still, he couldn’t help the appreciation that washed over him. You looked so earnest, standing there in the middle of his classroom, and he found himself thinking that you were sweeter than he’d initially realised. 

“Good contribution on the ‘no drawing’ rule, by the way,” he teased softly, chuckling. “We have had issues with that before…”

“Thought so,” you replied as you looked around once more. “Kind of jealous I have to leave your class after this—it seems fun here.” You gestured to the room, taking in the brightly colours and kids rifling through their little lunchboxes.

His eyes flicked around the room, landing on the paint smudge on his own jeans as if to prove a point. 

“It can be,” he said, wry amusement in his tone, “but it’s definitely a handful.” There was a slight pause as he glanced back at the box on his desk. “So, how much do I owe you for all this?”

“Seventy dollars,” you answered, feeling a bit uncomfortable about naming the price.

Without missing a beat, he opened a drawer and fished out his wallet, sliding out a few bills. 

“Went to the ATM this morning,” he explained with a small shrug. “Was expecting you.”

Your hand closed around the money, but you lifted your gaze to him in concern. 

“Aren’t the school’s funds supposed to cover this?”

He huffed a short laugh. “Not a chance with the budget we’ve got—and especially after the last round got destroyed.”

A pang of sympathy flashed through you. You didn’t like the idea of him footing the bill just so his students could have decent reading material. 

“Then let’s make it fifty,” you offered, handing him back a portion of the money.

“No, no way.” His eyes went wide, and he shook his head firmly. “Take it.”

“If you give me all that,” you said, adopting a light, playful tone, “I’m just going to leave the difference at the front desk for you at the end of the day.”

“Come on,” he frowned, looking torn. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s books for children,” you shrugged. “It’s the least I can do.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh, finally conceding and pocketing some of the cash. 

“Fine,” he muttered, embarrassed.

An instant later, you saw a flicker of something cross his face—resolve, or maybe nerves. He glanced at the class, making sure they were occupied, then gestured toward the door. With a silent tilt of his head, he indicated you should both step into the hall.

Out in the corridor, the sudden quiet felt almost jarring compared to the cheerful chaos inside. The overhead lights were softer here, and you looked up at him with what Steve could only describe as the biggest, most open doe eyes he’d ever seen. His heart thumped a little faster. 

Spending all day with second graders had left him woefully out of practice when it came to talking to someone his own age—especially if he might be asking them out.

“If you, uh, won’t take the money…” he began, clearing his throat. “Maybe you’d like to let me buy you a coffee sometime? My treat. As—as a thank-you, for everything.”

The invitation caught you off guard, and a gentle blush warmed your cheeks. He picked up on it immediately, and worry flashed across his expression. 

“Is that too forward?” he backpedaled quickly. “Sorry—I’m sorry, forget I said anything—”

“No, wait,” you interrupted, mustering a quiet laugh at how flustered he seemed. “I’d love to meet you for coffee.”

His shoulders visibly relaxed, relief flooding his features. 

“Yeah?” he asked, a small, triumphant smile quirking his lips. “That’s…That’s good.”

“We’re closed on Sundays, I’m assuming you’d be free then?” You offered as you smiled back, feeling an unexpected rush of excitement of your own. 

“Sunday is perfect,” he said, nodding a bit too eagerly. “Do you know the coffee place on Maple?”

A soft sparkle lit your eyes. “I love their pastries,” you admitted, grin widening.

“Me too,” he said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “How about eleven?”

Eleven, you repeated in your head, trying not to beam too obviously. 

“That works for me.”

“Great—eleven.” He tried to hang onto an air of casualness, but there was no denying the spark in his expression.

You turned to go, warmth spreading from your chest all the way to your toes, when he suddenly called out. 

“Wait—I, uh, didn’t catch your name.”

A slight laugh escaped you at his flustered state, and you told him softly. He repeated it under his breath, letting it roll off his tongue as though to memorise the sound. 

“Right. Sunday at eleven.” He echoed the words again, as if reassuring himself that this was really happening, before heading back into the classroom.

You took a small moment, hugging that sense of anticipation. As you walked away, you caught the echo of his voice as the door began to shut. 

“Alright, guys,” he announced brightly, “who’s gonna help me put these away?”

A gentle laugh escaped you as the door closed behind, picturing the eager hands shooting up in response to his question. In that instant, the hallway felt a little less quiet, and your footsteps sounded more like a happy skip than anything else.

taglist: @daisy-is-a-writer

[phantomdreamgirl]

worship you divine

Knight!Steve x Princess!Reader (18+)

(soft-ish) smut with your forbidden lover who you realize you can't live without

You sit in your chambers, in front of your vanity mirror lazily brushing your hair, before bed. The tension that's filled the air around the castle has left you feeling despondent and weary. Fear of another attack from a neighboring kingdom lingers in the back of everyone's minds, especially the royal court. Guards have been posted outside all the rooms of the royal family, while others make nightly patrols of the hallways and corridors. Their increased presence should make you feel more at ease, but only leaves you longing for the one person who has ever truly made you feel safe. The most valiant knight in the kingdom- Sir Harrington.

You remember the first time your eyes met, at one of the annual balls. He was a sight, dressed in his armor, he was the most dashing man you'd ever seen. He watched you all night as you danced with all the most eligible, and affluent, bachelor's from the surrounding kingdoms. You knew that was part of his job, but there was something different in how he looked at you.

You found him the following day and asked if he would escort you through the courtyard. He, of course, obliged and the two of you strolled around the garden your mother had planted and maintained, carrying on a decades long tradition. He even picked one of the flowers and gently tucked it behind your ear. His hand lingered at the side of your face before he leaned in to kiss you. Realizing what he'd done, he quickly pulled away apologizing profusely until you assured him that it was alright and you wanted him to kiss you until he stole the breath from your lungs. From that day forward, you both carried out your relationship in secret.

Glancing back at your reflection, you sigh, remembering how your father had sent him and his other most trusted men to secure the surrounding perimeter and quell another potential attack. You wonder if he did it on purpose, having gained knowledge of your relationship and wanted to keep you apart. He won't succeed in trying to thwart your romance because your knight is more devoted to you than the kingdom he swore to protect.

With another heavy sigh, you rise from your seat and cross the short distance to your bed. You're about to turn down the covers when there's a sharp tapping at your bedroom door. Unsure of who it could be at such a late hour, you hurry to answer it, thinking it could be your mother coming to alert you that everyone's fears have come true yet again.

You quickly open the door and gasp when you see your knight has returned. You smile, immediately throwing your arms around him while he laughs, ushering you back inside your room. You press kisses to his cheek as his hands settle on your waist.

"I missed you," you breathe before he kisses you.

"I missed you, too," he replies, while closing and locking the door.

"It was driving me mad not knowing when I was going to see you," you continue as he sits you on the bed.

"I felt the same, that's why I had to come back. I couldn't stand being away from such beauty any longer," he reveals, reaching to cup your cheek.

"You may flatter me as much as you wish," you smile.

"I'm grateful for her majesty's approval," he smiles, in return, leaning in to kiss you again.

You drape your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and curling your fingers in the ends of his hair. His lips feel so soft and warm against yours. Its a sensation so dizzying, it makes you hold him tighter. A low moan reverberates from deep in his throat before he breaks the kiss, panting.

You blink at him, in a daze, when he leaves your side.

"Sir Harrington, what are you- ?" You ask as he sinks to his knees in front of you.

"You needn't be so formal right now," he softly suggests, as his hands rest on your skirt. He grips the material before pushing it up, exposing your legs. "I've missed you so much, dearest," he breathes, glancing up at you, his eyes shining with adoration. "Our time apart made me ache for you in ways I've never felt before."

He presses his palms to your thighs, and you watch, speechless, as he then kisses along the side of your knee. You gasp, reaching to cradle his handsome face as he kisses up to your inner thigh.

"How I've longed to feel your touch and your kiss..." you breathe when he glances up at you again.

Gorgeous hazel eyes shimmer with love as he nuzzles his cheek against your thigh.

"We mustn't be apart again," he begins, rising to his feet before kneeling on the bed. "I simply cannot bear to be away from you any longer, princess."

"Nor I, you," you reply, reaching for him once more.

You lay back, pulling him with you. The edge of his nose brushes your jaw before he presses his lips to your neck. He moans into your skin as he inhales the faint traces of your perfume. He kisses his way to your chest then impatiently pulls your night dress down, exposing your breasts. You gasp, pushing your hands into his hair as he licks and kisses across your skin.

"I need you, dearest," he pants, "all of you."

You whine, arching into him while he murmurs how perfect you are. He's completely intoxicated by the fragrance of your skin, as he buries his face in your breasts.

Soft moans leave your lips as he lavishes you with belated affection. His lips trail downward, as he kisses along your stomach then to your side. His fingers clutch your gown that's now pooling at your waist.

"May I?" He asks, glancing up at you.

You nod, lifting your hips so he can easily pull it from your body. His eyes travel your now bare body and he whispers more words of praise before taking off his own clothes. He wants to feel your skin on his, he's desperate for it, crawling over you and pressing his body to yours.

Thick hair on his chest rubs against you, creating a sensation you had never felt before but are now spoiled by. Your desire will never be sated after tonight, as you'll always crave more, always want more of him. He'll always be willing to give himself to you, since he still feels bound to the oath he swore to uphold. Though now, he views it differently, since he's fallen in love with you.

"You feel so good like this, Sir-" you breathe, gliding your fingertips along his shoulders.

"Use my name, angel," he softly corrects. "I want to hear it fall from your pretty lips."

He brushes his thumb across your lower lip while dreamily gazing at you. You hesitate, before he shifts, letting you feel how he's throbbing for you.

"Oh, Steve..." you gasp as he smiles.

"Thats better," he coos, lips against your cheek. "I want it to echo in my ears as I make love to you all night."

You whimper, guiding his lips back to yours.

He slips his hand between you, his fingers teasing you briefly before resting on your thigh. He then drags his hand upward, his nails lightly scratching your skin as he breathes, "Spread your legs a little wider, angel."

You immediately do as he instructs, as desire courses through your body. It's so intense you're almost trembling with it. He gazes down at you again, bringing his other hand up to your flushed cheek.

"You're so beautiful like this," he smiles. "I can see the love that shines in your eyes for me."

"I would hope so. I don't know how to look at you any other way," you reply, sweetly.

"My Princess..." he breathes, leaning in close. "I love you... I want to show you just how much..."

He reaches to stroke himself a few times before helping to ease himself inside you. Your eyes water at the stretch, and your nails claw at his skin as he slowly pushes in. You try to speak but it comes out as incoherent gasps as he kisses your face, while lowly moaning himself. You whimper his name and he instantly glances up, into your watery eyes.

"I know it may be painful at first, but I promise it'll feel better," he soothes, nuzzling his nose against yours.

Once his hips meet yours, the discomfort subsides and pleasure takes over.

"Are you alright, dearest? I don't wish to hurt you-" he begins when you interrupt him.

"Yes, I just need more, please..." you whine, trying to move your hips.

He grins. "Oh, so I've already spoiled you then?"

"You mustn't let your ego inflate too much," you playfully retort.

"Such an attitude is unbecoming for a lady of your stature," he scolds, ghosting his lips over yours.

"Perhaps you should adjust it for me, then," you challenge, lightly tugging on the ends of his hair.

"Perhaps I shall," he breathes before kissing you roughly.

Your legs tighten around his waist as you gasp with relief when his hips finally move. He starts out slow, really wanting you to feel how he's thrusting in and out of you. It's torture, you think, as you're suddenly greedy for more.

"God, you're perfect," he pants into your mouth, before his hangs open lowly moaning with each thrust.

Seeing him like this makes you even weaker for him. You press kisses to his cheek, snapping him out of his daze. He then eagerly reciprocates your kiss.

"I want to spend every night like this," he whispers before burying his face in your neck. He licks at your sweaty skin, eager to savor it on his tongue.

"As do I," you breathily reply, clutching him to you as his thrusts settle into a steady rhythm.

"I want you as mine, always," he continues kissing his way up to your cheek.

"I will be," you assure, running your fingers through his messy hair.

"Until your father decides otherwise and marries you off to some worthless prince... I'll kill any man that tries to touch you," he swears, with his darkened eyes boring into yours. "You're mine."

You nod. " I only want to be yours. You're the only man I've ever loved," you then reveal.

He leans in, connecting your lips for a deep, sloppy kiss.

"My angel... my princess..." he breathes thrusting into you at a brutal pace.

It takes everything you have not to scream. He then angles his head just right so your lips are at his ear.

"I want to hear you," he commands.

Soft, subdued moans of his name fill his ear as he makes you truly his.

He collapses on top of you, his hairy, sweaty body almost crushing you. You comb your fingers through his damp hair, enjoying having his body weight pressing against you, until he lifts his head. He smiles dreamily before leaning in for a slow series of kisses. He then repositions himself, with his head resting on your chest.

-

You're not sure of the time but know it's probably close to morning. You glance down at him and smile when he presses a kiss to the swell of your breast. His eyes then meet yours and you're overcome with love.

"I truly want to be with you always," you say, your voice trembling with emotion.

"You know I want that, too."

"I simply won't be able to keep pretending I'm not in love with you," you continue. "Its too much for me to bear any longer."

"Then come away with me," he suggests sitting up. "We can go somewhere far beyond this place and make a life for ourselves."

He takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips.

"You're actually serious..." you reply while he looks at you expectantly.

"Of course I am. No other maiden has ever made me feel like this..."

He moves closer to you, cradling your face in his hands. "You're so special, angel, and I'm not going to be without you anymore, not after tonight."

"I love you," you breathe, with tears welling in your eyes as you kiss him. "I don't wish to be without you, either."

"Then it's settled, we'll leave under the cover of darkness tomorrow night and finally be free," he whispers against your lips.

You nod before he kisses you again.

You lay in each other's arms until you see the sun rising in the distance. He begrudgingly gets dressed then stands at your bedside. He leans down, reaching to cup your cheek as you smile up at him.

"You'd really give all this up for me?" He softly asks.

"In a heartbeat," you quickly reply, making him smile in return.

"I love you, princess," he breathes before giving you one last kiss.

"I love you, too, Sir Harrington."

He rolls his eyes while you giggle, unable to help yourself.

"Get some rest, dearest. I'll see you tonight," he says before sneaking out of your chambers.

You lay back, your eyelids now so heavy as your drowsy thoughts are consumed with your knight and the promise of your future together.

-

When night falls, you meet Steve at the stables, where he has horses waiting for you both. He greets you with a excited kiss, getting lost in you for a moment when he has your body against his. Once you're able to pry him away, with a laugh, you set out on your journey into the unknown. The thought of renouncing your royal life did scare you at first, but you meant what you said- you couldn't bear a life without him as yours.

You ride for ages until you see faint torch light ahead. It belongs to a tavern that Steve frequented during his travels. The barkeeper is a kindly older gentleman that is grateful to help you both, in any way he can. He says he's eternally in Steve's debt as he saved him from a roving band of robbers. He's also struck by your beauty, as he tells him his stories about you didn't do you justice. He then offers you both the room above the bar, for the night.

"Thank you for your hospitality," you say, sweetly. "You're very kind."

"Oh, I'd do anything for this lad," he replies, jovial. "And his lady love. He's a good one."

"I know," you smile, looking up at Steve, who smiles in return.

-

He manages to get a fire going in the meager fireplace before joining you in the small bed. You're unable to keep from shivering as he wraps his arms around you.

"That should warm the room up soon," he informs, nuzzling close to you.

"I hope so. I'm freezing," you reply, desperate for the natural heat that radiates from him.

You each lay in silence for a moment, just listening to the crackling of the fire until he speaks, "I can't tell you what it means to me that you're here right now."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else," you confirm, glancing up at him.

"So, you're not having any second thoughts about running away with me?" He asks, somewhat nervous.

"Look at me," you quietly instruct before his soft eyes meet yours.

The light from the latern on the nightstand isn't that strong, but it's enough so that you can read the expression on his face.

"I don't want you to think for a second that I regret leaving with you," you begin, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. "Because it's the furthest thing from my mind. I want to be with you and this is the only way it can happen. You're my future."

A lovesick smile spreads across his lips before you pull him into a kiss.

"I love you, so much more than I can ever put into words," he breathes, between kisses.

"You can always show me..." you whisper, as he groans.

"Oh, I intend to, princess," he smirks before kissing you deeply.

[chelseeebe]

i’ll be your fool

part 2 to guilty as sin

18+. mdni. SMUT! mentions of alcohol briefly eddie munson x harrington!reader though no descriptions of r are used! no use of y/n.

a/n: heyyy i actually love this and i love their relationship and the sneakiness and so i do have another part for this because i cannot let them go so soon

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

eddie regrets a lot of things, but coming back with steve tonight might just be his biggest. 

the muffled sounds of sex takeover his ears, corrupting his mind and infecting him with all sorts of ridiculous, filthy thoughts. 

he, steve and christina had all gone out to some bar she had heard about, a good night, on reflection. hell, he’d even hit it off with some girl, talking music and all things steve never entertained. 

but then instead of doing the intelligent thing of taking her home, or even going home on his own, he’d happily agreed to join steve and come back here. 

he knows why, deep down. 

because to even have a minuscule chance of sleeping with you again, made that decision a whole lot easier. 

though, eddie’s not too sure it was the right decision. 

you hadn’t made a noise since they’d been back, there was no sign you were even here and now he’s stuck listening to the sordid events next door, trying his hardest not to get hard over his best friend. 

oh god. 

he could jerk off, he supposes. but that wouldn’t last long and these two showed no signs of slowing down. 

eddie desperately grinds his hips down into the mattress, it had been a while, alright? and by a while he means two weeks to the day since you’d lured him up to your room and crossed the line that should’ve never been entertained. 

he wonders if you can hear it. 

maybe you’re asleep. 

maybe you’re not even here. 

maybe he should check. 

make sure you were doing alright in these traumatising circumstances. 

who’s he trying to kid? 

his dick is aching and you’re potentially just a couple feet away, 

he’s already at your door before he can dwell on it, knocking softly, hoping to be heard above the rhythmic thumping of steve’s bed frame against the wall. 

for a second he thinks there’s no answer, until he hears the soft padding of your feet against the floor and it creaks open to reveal your already scantily clad frame. 

“c’mon,” beckoning him inside with your two fingers, turning the lock the second the door is closed behind him. 

to do this once should’ve been enough, but to crawl back in here a second time, already completely pent up and desperate for your touch, he should know better. 

your eyes trail down to the bulge in his boxers, widening just so when they meet his again, “that’s weird, eddie,” using his name to taunt him as you circle around, “do you wanna fuck my brother or something?”

“what? no- no.. jesus christ, i can’t.. can’t help it,” pulling at the fabric, now wishing he had just opted to jerk off instead. 

“i’m joking,” placing your palms flat on his chest, nudging him back towards the bed, “i’m assuming you didn’t come in here to talk,” walking your fingers downward. 

eddie shakes his head no, he’s not opposed to talking, but he can’t focus with this raging boner so perhaps you could do something about it first. 

his knees meet the edge of your bed, buckling as he falls down onto the mattress. he can only look up, infatuated with your cascading figure and the taunting, narrowed eyes that sit above. 

“sit back,” you order, knocking your knee into his to jump start his limbs into action before climbing atop, knees resting either side of his trembling thighs. 

“i thought this wasn’t happening again,” teasing in your tone, after all he had been the one to cut this off. his words were stern but gentle, making sure that you understood that it wasn’t you per say, but your brother. 

“i lied,” running his hands underneath your shirt, pinching at your doughy hips, “can’t stop thinking about you.. that night,” shifting himself so his feet are camped firmly on the mattress. 

“yeah?” one hand caressing his cheek, the other held tight on his shoulder, “i knew you’d come back,” moving slowly over his stiff cock, “you can’t help yourself.” 

eddie groans, unsure of whether from the sensation of your pussy rubbing against him or your words, however true they are. 

“you don’t have to rub it in,” he adds through gritted teeth, “i can go if.. if you want,” losing his train of thought with every jerk and whine. 

your hips rutting endlessly, he can feel his boxers dampen, a mixture of your arousal and his leaking cock to blame. 

“do you think i want you to go?” 

not really, but then, he could never be sure with you. 

eddie shakes his head, obedient as ever. he wasn’t about to let his loose lips and poor self esteem ruin this too. 

“so don’t say stupid things like that then,” staring at him in annoyance, too pent up to entertain his stupid mind games. 

you huff, tugging at his underwear until they rest just below his balls, cock springing up against his stomach as he struggles to contain himself for much longer. 

he’s only grateful that the sounds of he best friend are non-existent in your room. unsure if he could really put in the work with those distractions. 

kissing messily at his jaw, you pant, “what do you want, eddie?” grinding your hips down against his cock, a lacy thong the only thing keeping you apart.

“you.. fuuck- i need you,” he gasps, handfuls of your ass in hand, gone far beyond horny at this point. 

your lips quirk to the side, running your hand down the length of his torso, stopping just before his cock. “gotta be quiet, yeah?” before moving your panties to the side and fisting his dick, running his leaking tip between your soaked folds. 

“jesusfuckingchrist,” he rushes, cut off by your hand slapping against his mouth, he’d blow this whole thing wide open if he weren’t careful. 

your eyes roll slightly, lowering yourself onto his aching cock, muffling your own cries as you bite down onto your lip. 

eddie said never again before but now he’s not sure he can ever leave you alone. your thighs collide with his, producing a sickeningly filthy sound alongside your soaked cunt, the remembrance of that alone could get him off for the rest of his life. 

with your palm clamped firmly against his mouth, you pick up the pace, head thrown back towards the ceiling, using him purely to get off. 

eddie’s useless, watching as you ride his cock, mouth open in blissful pleasure though you’re doing a better job of keeping quiet than he is. cursing muffled swears into your hand, his high pitched whines coming out in hoarse grumbles, he needed to scream, start yodelling or something. 

“such a good boy,” muttering under your breath, the praise hits his ears with utmost delight, making his toes curl in tandem with his hips beginning to thrust mercilessly up against you. 

there’s no cohesiveness to the movement, your bed rocking with the sloppy movements. 

you let go of his mouth, entrusting him not to start yelling as you come to hold the back of his clammy neck. 

“holy.. fuck,” breathing his words, punctuating his thrusts, “s’all yours- shit,” burying his face into your neck, carelessly connecting his lips to the soft skin, dotting kisses haphazardly. 

your fingers curl into his hair, gently tugging at the roots as you near your orgasm, letting him take over the rhythm as your hips grow stagnant. 

your whines occupy his ears, “ohgodohfuck,” eddie can feel your thighs begin to tremble, resting all of your weight on his body. his thrusts become loose and without much effort, desperate to cum inside of you but not stupid enough to suggest it. 

“y’gonna cum?” he teases, his own orgasm near, switching the roles once more. your hips no doubt littered with markings of his fingertips, your ass red as a result of his grabby palms. 

“mmm,” you mewl, which he takes as a yes, sinking himself deep inside for the last thirty seconds he had to give to you. 

“fuu-uck,” pussy clenching around his throbbing cock, your body becoming completely malleable as you cum. 

eddie ruts up lazily, right up until he can last no longer and this becomes a game of russian roulete. lifting your writhing body from his cock, spurting his thick release over his boxers and your unsuspecting thighs. 

garbling a bunch of nonsense into the crook of your neck, “sh-shit, i’m sorry,” letting his arms hang loose, both of you reeling, panting in synchronicity. 

you roll off of him to the other side of the bed, sighing softly as you do so, trying to regain your bearings just as he was. 

the quiet is nice but he can’t stop his mind from wandering back to that moment only a fortnight ago. 

eddie has to do it. it had been inflicting his mind since you came onto him two weeks ago. 

i like them to be friends with my brother at least. 

he breaks the silence, “can i ask you a question?” maybe he’d regret it and maybe you’d kick him out without even answering, but he was anxious to know and you were docile. 

you hum, seemingly in agreement. 

“have you ever.. done this with steve’s friends before?” he was just curious, that’s all. he didn’t care if he was the first but he’d like to maybe be the last. 

“who told you?”

“who told me what?” turning to face you entirely, tracing patterns along your arm with his callous fingertips. 

you sigh, looking anywhere but his eyes, “i made out with tommy onc- a couple times,” your eyes roll, an obvious regret, “why d’you think they’re not friends anymore?” 

oh. 

the realisation hits, not so much making him regret what had just happened but instead a reminder that steve wouldn’t be delighted to find out about your escapades. eddie didn’t want to lose steve at all, but then you’d sigh and your lips would fall apart and he’s forgetting about the implications of it all immediately. 

he’s fucked. royally fucked. 

he should get out of this room- this bed, and leave it all alone. no good could come out of continuing to mess around with you. 

it’s clear you can tell he’s hesitant, watching his face with a frown, “it’s not that bad.. steve only found out because tommy told him,” shrugging his worries off, “you’re not gonna do that, are you?” 

he shakes his head no, resuming his fingered tracing of your body, “i wouldn’t,” because really, he’s not that stupid. 

you swallow, blinking before you begin, “i like having sex with you eddie,” coming to tap his cheek, drawing him from inside his head back to reality, “don’t ruin it.”

this is the part he’s most terrified about. 

the quiet, passive moments that had his heart thumping faster and faster, moments that blurred the line between just hooking up and something more. 

-

eddie wakes up slowly, your fingers drawing patterns on his scalp and the hum of the early morning from the window. your fingers weaving through his hair, sending shivers down his spine. 

oh no. 

this wasn’t a dream and this isn’t the bed he’s supposed to be in. 

he shoots up, almost knocking your dozing body onto the floor, laboured breaths that hurt his chest. 

“i fell asleep, i wasn’t supposed to fall asleep,” frantically trying to pull himself from the bed, a mess of nerves and adrenaline. 

how could he explain himself? 

steve would have him hung from the rafters if he so much as saw him in here.  

you grumble getting out of bed, being the only one of the two of you to possess any common sense. 

“just.. calm down,” throwing a glare his way, “i’ll check if he’s awake and then you can sneak out and no one will know,” shrugging on a discarded sweater, already sick of his worrisome look. 

you hold your finger up to your lips, demanding his silence before inching the door open. 

there’s faint chatter from downstairs, dishes clinking and then he can hear steve’s laugh. maybe they’d already peaked inside the guest room and found it empty, assuming he’d gone home. how would he ever explain that?

“coast is clear.. i’ll go down first, get dressed and come down in like ten minutes,” nodding so as to make sure he fully understood. 

he nods back, sliding off the bed in utmost silence, tiptoeing back to his rightful room with baited breath. 

he can’t hear steve’s accusations, or the inevitable screaming that’d come if they had happened to hear you. 

eddie counts to sixty ten times, and then another for good measure. convinced that steve would’ve marched upstairs by now if he had suspected anything. 

the stairs creak, giving his position away immediately. he’s still wary about needing to dash out of the door, prepared to leave his boots and run the four miles back home barefoot. 

“here he is,” steve announces, rummaging for another mug, “how’d you sleep?” wiggling his brows, pushing for eddie to mention the unmistakably obvious noises of sex. 

“yeah.. pretty good,” clearing his throat on arrival. you’re perched at the other end of the island, quietly sipping your own mug, pretending not to notice eddie’s gawping. 

steve’s hand claps him on the back, shoving the mug of coffee into his grasp, “i’m glad, we weren’t sure if we were too loud,” covertly bragging, ever the annoying prick. 

christina mumbles something, telling him to shut up and immediately turns to face you, pretending not to listen to the conversation. 

“well well, what were you doing last night?” christina titters, eyeing the violet marking on your neck. 

“oh um,” pulling your collar higher immediately, “i was just.. with a friend,” shying away from her questions. 

eddie tries to stop his cheeks from flushing, he hadn’t meant to leave any evidence, but he can’t help himself from getting turned on all over again at the sight of you, marked by him. 

“a friend? which friend?” steve grills, never not relinquishing the overprotective big brother act. 

well, it was your friend to be exact. not that eddie says it. 

“none of your business, thanks,” quickly shutting him down. it really was none of his business, mostly for his own sake. 

steve’s brows furrow, a deep set frown on his face as he eyes your neck, very clearly the cogs are turning in his head. eddie’s just grateful that he knows steve and thus, he knows he’ll never figure it out on his own. 

at least, he hopes. 

“aw poor eddie,” christina starts, swaying his attention loudly, “you must be the unluckiest man alive,” she giggles, ignoring steve’s prying and subsequent confusion. 

“yeah,” you nod, keeping your eyes on him, “poor eddie,” a mocking pout overcoming your lips. 

fuck, he felt smug being in on this little secret with you. steve liked to poke and prod at eddie, pretend he was just joking, only eddie knew he wasn’t really. 

but now he had this over him, one upping every jab and jest with the knowledge that he eddie had fucked his sister, right under his nose. 

[munsonsreputation]

am i allowed to cry?

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [2.8k]

warnings: cursing, allusion to depression and anxiety, reader nearly has a mental breakdown over the stress of work/school/and life, steve comes to the rescue don't worry (honestly just wrote this because seasonal depression combined with school and work and life is real as fuck and we all need some comfort), also semi proof-read, sorry!

summary: it feels like the weight of the world is on your shoulders, something too heavy for you to bear all alone, but you do, anyway. and when you finally collapse under pressure, the last person you want to worry is your boyfriend steve, but he’s your safe space, and all he ever wants you to know is that he’s going to be there for you through smiles and tears.

The fatigue settled under your eyes and in the depths of your bones like a heavy weight pulling you down. There was an exhaustion seeping from the inside out, eating you alive until you were merely a shell of yourself. Your stomach twisted in knots unsolvable even with the help of sleep or tea—you felt beyond defeated with no way out.

It didn’t matter where you were and how ‘fine’ you thought you were. The feeling of dread became embedded into your entire existence and it was getting harder to keep up the act and blame it all on school or work. Perhaps it started there, but slowly and surely did the feeling morph into every avenue you steered towards in order to escape.

Your hangouts with friends suddenly turned into an inner panic attack of sorts, feeling the need to keep up with everyone who was doing so well whilst you were barely making it out alive.

Family dinners then turned into interrogations, where they poked and prodded probably with the best intent to figure out why you were so absent, but it all just felt like an attack coming from left and right.

No matter how hard you tried to keep up the facade of being fine and telling everyone they were making a big deal out of nothing, you knew you were moments away from falling apart. At this rate, you were a machine breaking down piece by piece, rusting and stalling until you couldn’t move anymore.

And the absolute last person you wanted to shrink away from was your boyfriend, Steve.

He was the most supportive and present person in your life you could have ever asked for. He never doubted you in anything, and most times he was the one egging you on to go after your dreams. Telling you to take risks and go for it, because you always succeeded in everything you did, and even when it wasn’t on the first try, he knew you were bound to get a hang of it.

A special trait about him that you adored so much was his trust in you. He knew what it was like for people to always question his worth, to try to make it seem like he wasn’t capable or smart enough to make his own decisions so much so that other people had to step in and save him. But to be fair, Steve Harrington never needed to be saved—he just needed the right people around to show him it was okay to make mistakes and learn from it.

And you did just that.

When Steve didn’t know what he wanted to do after graduation, you never pestered him on to go off to college, committing himself to something he wasn’t one hundred percent certain about. Instead, you encouraged him to find his calling, to scour town in order to find different hobbies that had potential job opportunities. To volunteer and possibly shadow in order to widen his options.

You were always supportive and did your best to guide instead of control—and because of that; he was able to find a job that made him happy, surprisingly enough.

And likewise, while Steve never was the biggest fan of structured school, he guided you through your college path. Providing all the moral and emotional support he could offer you, and at times even going as far as to reading a textbook chapter alongside you to help you understand concepts that were all too confusing.

He never pushed too hard, and never made it seem like he didn’t care. There was a perfect balance between your understanding and his—a sort of tune that always was in perfect harmony…until it wasn’t.

You had been assuring Steve that while school and work were surely kicking your butt, you had it all under control, but that was far from the truth. Date nights were seemingly pushed back…not that he minded since he understood you needed to study and rest—but things were beginning to feel more off.

You avoided having him stay the night at your place or even just stopping by to drop you off some food. When you did spend time together, you were physically there, but not mentally. You listened intently to what he had to say, but when it was your turn, you shared little about what was going on with you, and diverted the questions back to him.

A lot of the time, you just seemed out of it. Too far away in your mind for him to reach you, and while he knew everyone had their off days and even off weeks, yours was becoming imminently permanent, and you were beginning to realize it, too.

You sat hunched over at your desk, eyes welling with tears as you stared down at your notes, then back to your textbook, then back to your notes once again. Nothing was making sense, and your patience was slim to none, batting your eyes as the tears fell onto the pages where you were too fed up to care.

Your mind was scattered all over the place, thinking about how you needed to make sense of the content in front of you, but also about the many deadlines of other assignments you had under your belt. On top of that, you had other responsibilities that needed your full attention, yet you sat there wondering how you were even going to complete one of them.

There was something that snapped inside of you. A guttle cry that you let out as you pushed yourself out of your desk chair and stood with your hands threaded roughly in the roots of your hair. Hot, vicious tears floated down your cheeks while you paced in circles attempting to calm yourself down, but nothing worked.

You needed Steve, even when you didn’t want him to see you like this.

He was at your doorstep not even a whole ten minutes after you had phoned him, asking if he would drop by. It was almost midnight, and usually at this hour your nose was buried deep behind textbooks and assignments, but he could just tell something was the matter.

He had asked rushed and worriedly, if everything was okay, but you refused to give him a definite answer, just sniffling back your cries and humming, telling him to come over as soon as he could. The drive was short, and yet for him it felt like eternity until he was face to face with you on your front porch.

“Baby,” His voice was rigid yet gentle, striding closer to you as his warm hands came down to hold your arms, “Hey, what’s going on? Are you hurt?” He breathed, half catching his breath from his haste, and half worried out of his mind.

He bent a little at the knees, trying to get a better look at your face in the dimly lit doorway. All the color was drained from your skin, except the red path your tears took down your cheeks and your bitten lips.

You sniffled hard, an unevenness apparent in your breathing, “N—nothing,” you lied pathetically, closing your eyes as you shook your head, “I’m just a little stressed. You don’t have to worry about m-me.”

There was lots to worry about, especially seeing you in the state that you were in. Steve had seen you stressed out many times before. Worried about running late, leaving something behind, nervous about a final exam, but nothing ever to this extent. This was more than stress, and he knew it.

“Let’s go inside and talk, yeah?” He murmured, ignoring your comment and leading you back into your home, hoping to get you to talk some more.

Guiding you to the kitchen, he switched on the lights, pulling out a chair for you to sit at the dining table while he got you a glass of cold water and some paper towels.

“Have some water, baby,” He knelt on the ground, holding the cup of water to your lips.

You sniffled, closing your eyes tightly as you tried to catch your breath before taking a sip, letting him help you, and pulling the cusp away from your lips before you could cough up. You could feel his eyes boring through you, filled with fret wanting to get down to the bottom of the situation yet letting you go at your own pace.

He took the paper towel, crumbling it up into a small ball to dab over your cheeks and under your eyes, doing his best to soak up all the tears that kept pouring. His heart shook and broke in his chest, wondering what had happened to get you to this state of no return.

“Talk to me sweetheart,” He started, letting one of his hands come to hold your trembling one, giving you a firm squeeze. “What can I do to make it better?” He implored, just wanting to make whatever that was hurting you stop.

The desperation in his voice made another sob rip out from chest, face pinching into something painful as you hung your head low and wept as quietly as you could. You felt so weak and helpless, hating that you pushed yourself to the point where you made the one person who vowed to always be there for you feel as though he wasn’t.

“Babe, shhh, hey c’mon,” He murmured, immediately wrapping his arms around your body, pulling you close to him and burying your face in his chest, “It’s okay. I’m right here, baby. S’okay.”

You hadn’t said anything just amounting yourself to a mess of tears and unspoken feelings, not knowing how you could possibly articulate what you had been going through all this time.

“I—I’m sorry,” You muffled against his chest, causing him to pull away slightly, just to look at you and shake his head wondering why you were apologizing.

“You don’t have to be sorry baby—”

“I’m fucked up, I know I am.” You blurted out, a cruelty in your voice Steve could tell was directed towards yourself, not him.

“I-I’ve been so caught up with school and work that I know I haven’t been the best girlfriend, but I swear—”

“Hey stop it.” He didn’t let you finish, furrowing his brows, determined to make you understand the words you were saying about yourself weren’t true.

“This isn’t about you not being a good girlfriend. You’re so good to me, baby and I promise you whatever it is that’s going on, isn’t because of that. Talk to me. Don’t be scared.”

He assured you with warm circles rubbed over your back, just wanting you to focus on your feelings and not on what you thought you were making him feel. The only thing that mattered to him was understanding you, and how he could fit himself into the puzzle to make it all better.

“I’m just so tired,” You broke down once again, “I don’t feel like myself anymore, and even when I look at myself…I don’t see me.” You croaked, voice breaking in between words.

“All I want to do is relax, but my brain is just on a live wire where I can’t stop thinking and then I start spiraling. If it isn’t school, then it’s work, and if it isn’t work, then I’m thinking about all of the others things I don’t have time for in between school and work.” You heaved, just feeling the panic and frustration arise at the mere conversation.

He hated how he could see the contempt you had for yourself. Fingernails biting into the palm of your hands and a deep-seated frown over your lip, as if you wanted to crawl out of your skin to be someone completely different. But there was no one like you, in his eyes. Whatever it was that you were going through he was going to stand beside you and help you get back to feeling like yourself, the girl he couldn’t imagine living without.

“I’m here for you. I’m sorry I didn’t realize sooner,” He murmured, pushing the tear soaked strands of hair out of your face. “You work so hard all the time, you deserve a break.”

“I can’t,” you cried, shaking your head, rubbing exhaustingly at your eyes, “I physically can’t. I can’t fall behind when I already am.”

You wanted to listen to his advice, the knowing that deep down he was so very right, but you couldn’t look past the idea of letting people down and falling behind when you knew it was impossible to play catch up.

Steve knew how you operated on a one track mind to get things done and out of the way, which was obviously ideal. However, the amount of physical, emotional, and mental strain the work ethic had put you in was enough confirmation that he needed to step in before it got worse.

“Listen to me, hon,” He said tenderly, grasping your face in his hands, “You need a break. I’m not saying you have to abandon everything, but you need to take it easy on yourself. Learn how to step away and breathe. You’re going to work yourself to death if you keep this up…and you know I can’t live without you.”

His sentiment was true and sweet, something he was able to be at all times, even at times like this.

“I’m not going to let you fall behind, baby.” He promised you, swiping his thumbs over your cheeks, pressing a chaste kiss over your lips before he continued, “I’ll help you and we can take it on together, but you can’t keep stuff like this from me okay? The last thing I ever want you to feel is like you have to do it all alone.”

You sniffled, nodding as you swallowed back the lump in your throat, hiccuping slightly, “I-I know, I’m just usually so good at taking on everything, but I don’t know what happened.” You admitted with a shrug.

He nodded understandingly. “You might not feel it, but you’re overworked and that’s okay. I’m going to be here to help any way I can. With school, with work…with breaks.” He smiled softly.

“I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.” You stared up at him apologetically, wishing you hadn’t waited so long to tell him, knowing that he was always your number one confidant and supporter through everything.

Still, he shook his head, caressing your cheeks, “Don’t apologize, I’m here now and I promise it’s going to get better.”

He held you in his arms a little longer, letting you cry the rest of your tears into his chest, before suggesting to head up to your room. Agreeing, he grabbed a fresh cup of water to keep at your bedside before following you up the stairs and into your room.

Books and papers were sprawled out across your desk, hinting to him what had gone down before you called. He knew that school was beginning to take a toll on you with bigger projects and finals approaching, but had no idea it was getting worse and worse as the days passed by—but no longer, not with him around.

“Let me just…” You spoke under your breath, heading towards your desk to get everything cleaned up, now that Steve was spending the night and not wanting him to deal with the mess.

But he was quick to stop you, grabbing you gently by the wrist before you could even close the textbook, causing you to follow his lead to your bed.

“Hey…” He murmured, setting the cup down on the small table beside your lamp, “we’ll figure it out in the morning okay?”

“Hmm,” You hummed with a nod, letting him situate you into bed before toeing off his shoes and getting in beside you.

You turned to face him after he switched off the lamp, encasing you both in complete darkness. Eyes adjusting to the light, enough for you to make out his face, eyes closed peacefully, as his arms went instinctively around your frame, pulling you closer into him—the feeling you had been missing so desperately, wondering why you ever even thought to push it away.

“You know I’ll be here whenever you need me, all the time okay?” His voice broke the silence, nuzzling his face closer to yours, hoping you knew how true every word was.

“I know,” you promised, jutting your chin up to press a kiss to his lips that he smiled into, kissing you back a little harder wanting you to remember the feeling and that alone.

All the stress still lingered in the back of your mind, but the feeling that consumed wasn’t the fear or the exhaustion that had been weighing you down. It was the knowing that you were allowed to feel your feelings around Steve, and the security to know he was your person, rain or shine—and that in itself was enough for you to know it was going to be okay.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: very short one shot in honor of seasonal depression doing its big one on me...but don't worry im surviving through my safe space fiction characters!!! i hope you are all doing well and thank you again for sticking around!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

[choerypetal]

Love at first Sight / Steve Harrington x Winchester!Sister

Summary: The reader, as the younger sister of the Winchesters, moves to Hawkins to investigate a hunt after losing contact with their father, John. Unbeknownst to them, Hawkins harbors dark secrets, particularly when a certain boy rescues them from the monsters.

ps: This is my longest story to date, and I had so much fun writing it. I hope you enjoy it just as much! Since English isn't my first language, I apologize for any minor grammar errors.

word count; 6ks.

tag list ; @figurantedefilme

“Father, hasn’t come back.” 

Dean’s words reiterate in your mind as you sat in the passenger seat. Sam, your twin, understood the potential consequences of bringing you along. You vividly recalled his argument about the test you had the next morning, how he had done everything possible to support your decision not to get involved. The thought of dragging their little sister, on the brink of graduating high school, into family matters made him troubled. "And where exactly is the location?" he asked, struggling to conceal his irritation while casting worried glances in your direction. 

Dean understood he had no alternative. If given the opportunity, there was no doubt he would have ventured alone. However, giving John's unequivocal instructions left no room for debate on the matter. When family, particularly your father, was concerned, it was imperative for everyone to participate, regardless of their preferences. Dean's grasp on the steering wheel tightened as he disclosed the destination you were bound for.

 “Hawkins.” 

Hawkins was nothing like Kansas. After an eight-hour drive with multiple stops, your brothers took turns at the wheel. For once, you all agreed that your father should be immensely grateful when you finally rescued him, especially given the uncertainty about where to start. It wasn't until you checked into a motel near Hawkins that the research on the haunting began in earnest.

Dean had gone to buy some food while Sam and you continued your search. The sun had set, giving way to the shimmering stars of the night. One of the things you couldn't help but admire about Hawkins was the luminous presence of its own scenery. You were stargazing from your motel window when you heard the door creak open and Sam's voice, poised to relay any information about your father's whereabouts. But it was Dean who spoke first, interrupting Sam's rambling about anything he could find useful. "So, you're telling me there are no official records, just a stupid student article about the incident that happened, what, a year ago? When it all started with a boy going missing?"

"Maybe we should ask for the chief," you suggested, recalling the man around your father's age whom your brothers had seen at the gas station an hour earlier. One who could definitely be a source of information. However, your brothers dismissed the notion, unwilling to involve others. "No, no, no," Dean said, pulling food from the plastic bag and placing it on the table. Sam, still engrossed in his laptop, grabbed the first item his hand found. "The one thing we definitely can't do is involve the cops, especially the sheriff."

And he was right, much as you hated to admit it. Dealing with the cops had never been your brother's strongest suits. Recalling numerous arrests, all tied to their hunting activities, with your father or Bobby often being the one to bail them out.

"I think I found something," Sam said, capturing your attention. Dean snatching the laptop from him, causing Sam to roll his eyes and start munching on his sandwich. "Demogorgon, really?" Dean said, almost offended by the article. What struck him, though, was how off the situation felt with the missing boy and the lab in Hawkins.

"I don't know, man. Don't look at me like that. Just read further," Sam insisted as Dean tried to process the information. Despite their extensive hunting experience, from Wendigo's to the King of Hell, Dean was on the verge of dismissing the student article entirely. This seemed like a stretch even for them.

"And you're telling me Dad went missing because of a half-man, half-creature that feeds on human powers?" Dean asked incredulously. Sam chuckled at his brother's disbelief and nodded. "That's what the article says," he confirmed, though Dean remained unconvinced. He needed more evidence, which meant by morning they will have to start questioning anyone around Hawkins. "Tomorrow, first thing. If the rumors are true, and as much as I hate to admit. Dad might be the creature's next snack anytime soon."

The next morning in Hawkins, you and your brothers headed to the nearest diner. Unlike other places you'd visited, Hawkins had a surprising calmness to it. You were particularly excited to visit the DVD store that had caught your eye, likely the only other place of interest besides the arcade. You always made a point to bring something back from each mission—a habit your brothers found odd yet endearing.

"Please," you begged Dean as the three of you walked into the diner. He rolled his eyes as you all sat down and ordered the usual breakfast: two coffees and an orange juice for you. "What do you even need at a DVD store?" he asked. "Maybe it could also be a good excuse for you and Sam to investigate," you replied with a hint of amusement. Your brothers exchanged a glance and thanked the waitress as she brought the food. "She isn't wrong, you know," Sam agreed, seeing the potential in the idea. "And if it makes Y/N feel at home..." 

"Fine," Dean finally conceded with a sigh. "But after that, we're heading to the trailer park." He insisted, knowing it was one of the areas where the creature had reportedly lingered and the last place your father was apparently seen.

"Robin, I told you, the last time I flirted with a woman, I couldn't even avoid making her cringe," Steve sighed as he brought the DVD tray to restock returns. Behind the counter, Robin mentally tallied her best friend's countless failures, a smile playing on her lips. “I call dibs on the next client.” As she noticed three silhouettes entering the store, her attention shifted entirely to them. "Welcome!" she greeted them, her tone ambiguous enough to make it unclear whether she enjoyed her job or not. "May I help you?"

Your brother wore an expression of determination. Sam, ever the polite one, smiled first and quickly refocused on their primary mission: finding your father. "We just need a few pieces of information," he said, presenting their fake FBI cards. You leaned forward, peeking between your brothers. Immediately catching Steve's attention. Outside, Max and Billy, being new in town, added to the unusual sight of newcomers, especially at this time of year. Steve couldn't help but admire this in awe. "I'll go look for a souvenir. Don't wait for me," you said, glancing at them one last time before heading off. 

"Alright, Chipmunk, just don't take long," Dean replied, prompting you to roll your eyes. Steve noted the nickname, remembering it all too well. As you made your way toward the shelves of tapes, Steve remained with your brothers, soon summoned by Robin.

"It's about their father," Robin had filled Steve in on the situation. Wherever their father was, it didn't sound promising, especially with everything happening—the Demogorgon, Vecna—anything could be connected. Observing Dean's expression shift from annoyance to complete shock, as Sam realized that dismissing the student article might have been their first mistake.

"So... you're saying you fought one of them?" Sam directed his question to Steve. Usually, Steve couldn't resist a bit of ego-boosting, but the serious expression on Dean's face and his repeated glances in your direction, ensuring you wouldn't make a mess, made Steve reconsider. Perhaps setting aside the flirting was the wisest choice. Thus, he simply nodded. "Yes, thanks to Dustin, who obtained the information initially. Even the police are clueless about what's truly occurring."

The Winchester brothers exchanged glances. "Dustin?" they asked simultaneously. Steve nodded in confirmation. "Yes, and not just Dustin. We also have El, who possesses superpowers. She's been instrumental, but given your father's disappearance, someone would have found his body by now or—" Steve hesitated, unwilling to entertain darker possibilities, especially after their experience in the Upside Down. He shared a concerned look with Robin, who shrugged, considering various scenarios. "Wait—let me just process all of this," Dean interjected, taking a step back. Robin offered him a seat at the counter, which he gratefully accepted as he attempted to piece everything together.

"So, let me get this straight: first, this kid Will goes missing, then you guys run into some Demo-whatever-the-hell-it's-called, and now there's this girl with random powers who was held captive in a lab by some Vecna creep?" Dean recalled how vague his father had been on the phone the previous night, mentioning he'd be at some sort of lab. The thought worried him, prompting Sam to give his brother a concerned look. "Are you okay?" Sam inquired. Dean hummed a yes and locked eyes with Steve, who swallowed nervously. Despite only meeting briefly that day, something about your older brother made Steve fidgety. Dean paused momentarily, then retrieved an article from his back pocket and placed it on the counter. Steve immediately recognized Nancy's handwriting.

"Not to sound arrogant, but that's your source?" Steve gestured towards the paper, blinking twice. While Nancy's article was informative, she had to simplify and spice it up to attract readers for her publication, not to mention keep the whole Upside Down ordeal a secret. Steve distinctly recalled her mentioning that. However, he hadn't anticipated it would attract a group of hunters brandishing fake FBI badges. Despite his reservations, he refrained from commenting on it. "Also," he added, indicating their badges, "this whole fake badge charade doesn't fool us. We've already dealt with the Russians trying that stunt," he remarked smugly. Just as you arrived with a stack of DVDs, you couldn't help but laugh. "See? I told you those FBI badges were outdated."

Sam's lips curved into a playful smile as he observed your reaction. Despite disliking that you were traveling with them and missing out on a normal life outside of hunting, it was gratifying to see you interacting with people your age. Your formal demeanor while conversing with Steve, who nodded in response to your comment, was refreshing, as were the small interactions you shared with Robin. "Cash?" Steve inquired next, prompting an eager nod from you as Dean stepped in to pay. "But I have enough!" you protested, pouting adorably—a sight that Steve found strangely endearing. He snapped back to reality as your brother impatiently waited for him to retrieve the cash. "Want-Want the receipt?" Steve asked stuttering slightly, to which your brother shook his head. As the three of you prepared to leave the store, thanking the two employees one last time, Dean paused, causing Sam and you to exchange a curious glance. Dean clearly had something in mind.

"Can we arrange a meeting spot?" he inquired. Steve and Robin shared a glance, aware that the next day they would be assisting Dustin in searching for his friend Eddie. It appeared to be an ideal opportunity, particularly since your brothers intended to explore Hawkins' forest as well. "Skull Rock?" the younger boy proposed. Neither your brothers nor you were aware that you would have more company than anticipated. Dean hesitated, but upon seeing your radiant expression as you held the stack of DVDs you had purchased, you spoke up on their behalf before he could respond. "We'll be there!"

Steve's prediction proved accurate. The following morning arrived, and he remained uncertain whether you would indeed appear, let alone bring your brothers along. The previous night, after interviewing numerous locals, you had practically pleaded with them to join, convinced it was an excellent idea. Considering your father's tendencies, initiating the search in the forest seemed logical. "If this is because of that Steve boy again," Dean interjected with disdain evident in his tone, prompting you to roll your eyes. "It has nothing to do with him! Besides, he's taken down one of these creatures before. I'd sooner trust a DVD seller than a random sheriff at this point." You made a valid argument, and upon witnessing the resolve in your expression, Sam concurred, "She's got a point." With a sigh, Dean drummed his fingers on the steering wheel before starting the engine without another word and directing the car toward Skull Rock.

"So who are we waiting for exactly?" Dustin inquired impatiently, observing Steve's restless pacing. "And what's with the sudden nerves?" Robin teased with a smirk. "It's Y/N." "Y/N?" Steve spoke your name, almost offended. "Oh, so you know her name?" Robin enjoyed Steve's irritation and couldn't resist teasing him further. "She mentioned it before they departed, in case you were paying attention, lover boy."

"They?" Dustin regarded the two adults before him, clearly perplexed by the situation and the strangers they had involved. "Her father vanished, and her brothers, who are apparently hunters, were dispatched here. We're just hoping we don't stumble upon their father's lifeless body along the way," Steve explained. He hadn't intended to sound so severe, but his nerves had taken over, leading him to adopt a touch of sarcasm. His confidence faltered as he heard your brother's voice drawing nearer. "Y/N, this is nonsense. We should've contacted Castiel."

"Yes, but remember, Castiel's at the hospital right now. He needs the rest," you reminded them, recalling the events of the last hunt. "Come on, grumpy old man," you added, grabbing Dean's arm, eliciting a whine from him, while Sam chuckled, enjoying the moment. As your eyes met Robin’s, you waved at her. "Robin!"

Robin was the first to notice your arrival and approached you with a hug. You were introduced to Dustin, whom they described as the clever one, and who had some knowledge about the creatures and your father's potential whereabouts. Lucky for him, he had mentioned about seeing a man whose description bore a striking resemblance to your father's, which he promptly relayed to Dean. "So, that's how you stumbled upon this entire Russian trap?" you inquired. They all nodded in agreement, but their conversation was interrupted as Eddie emerged from his hiding spot, causing you to startle slightly.

"Dustin, you rascal," Eddie's voice reverberated in your thoughts. Amidst the chaos of your missing father and the onslaught of curses from Max and Eddie, whom you had only just met, Eddie extended his hand to shake yours, his fingers lightly brushing against yours as he flashed a smile. "Haven't seen you around before, sweets," he remarked, managing to find humor in the situation despite its gravity, prompting a slight cringe from Steve, who had been the first to encounter you. Yet, you couldn't deny that Eddie exuded a certain charm of his own. "We've been sent on a mission. My father disappeared around here a few days ago, and my brothers, who are hunters, insisted I come," you explained, introducing Dean and Sam to everyone present, including Lucas, Max, and Nancy, all of whom reciprocated with their own introductions.

"And I assume you're familiar with me," the metalhead sighed at his presence, wishing for a more auspicious introduction. You shook your head, seeking confirmation from Robin and then Steve. "Eddie," Steve answered, somewhat irritated. "The 'supposed boy' who was involved in the cheerleader's death?" your brother recited from a news article. But quickly flinched and groaned in discomfort as you took the crumpled article and hit it against his chest. "Good Lord, Y/N, what was that for?" he protested as you gave him a knowing glance. 

"Do you get a serial killer vibe from him?" you questioned, coming to Eddie's defense. “It’s alright, Y/N, there’s no need…” Observing the unfolding scene, Steve couldn't help but wish he were in Eddie's position, but circumstances had changed since your meeting with him the day before. Determined to contribute, he spoke up. "Shouldn't we be, you know, taking action instead of just standing around? Especially for their father, Dustin, and everything?" 

Dustin briefly glanced at Steve, recognizing that familiar look of jealousy. First, it was with Nancy, and now it seemed directed toward a complete stranger. Amused, Dustin couldn't resist teasing him and feigned ignorance, only serving to make Steve's jealousy even more evident. Meanwhile, you were completely absorbed in Eddie's presence, oblivious to Steve's inner turmoil. Dean, always the vigilant brother, interjected, "Come on, lover boy, no time to waste," playfully tousling your hair as he noticed Steve's uneasy glance. You muttered a few choice words before smoothing down your hair. It was endearing to witness the two men vying for your attention, but it also put Dean, the protective brother, on edge. "Sammy?" he called out, turning to Sam, who was already assisting Dustin in plotting the next course of action. "Ready?"

You, on the other hand, gave a final glance to Eddie, who appeared ready. "Lead the way, sweetheart," you encouraged. The walk proved lengthier than anticipated, and as the sun began to set, the sky revealed the first twinkling stars, a sight you never failed to appreciate. Steve made a point to remain by your side throughout. "Look!" you exclaimed, prompting Steve to recall the way your smile lit up your face. Your observation caused everyone, including your brothers, to pause in their tracks. "The stars seem larger tonight," you remarked in awe. "Are you a fan of astrology?" Eddie inquired, leaning closer to you, and you turned to regard him. "And you?" you countered. He shrugged. "Not particularly, but now that you mention it, Hawkins nights do hold a certain allure, don't they, Steve?"

"Indeed," Steve responded, the faint edge of irritation apparent in his tone. Eddie noticed, recognizing the signs of infatuation, and chose not to press the matter further. "Perhaps," he suggested, "rather than discussing stars, we should direct our attention to..."

An interruption broke the silence—a familiar screech that caused Dustin to halt abruptly, prompting everyone to freeze in place. He listened intently, ensuring it wasn't merely his imagination. "Do you all hear that?" he whispered, the sound growing louder. Your brothers remained nearby, while Steve stood steadfastly by your side. You could have sworn you felt his fingers graze yours, prompting you, out of habit, to reach for his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze. In that moment, he was your knight in shining armor.

Dean swiftly seized the flashlight, his actions quickened by a piercing scream resonating through the air. As you turned to confront the creature lurking in the shadows, a chill of fear gripped you, compounded by the sight of blood dripping from its jaw. Paralyzed, you sensed its menacing presence drawing nearer with each passing second. In the blink of an eye, it lunged towards you. "Y/N!" Steve's urgent voice reverberated in your mind as Dean barked orders at Sam to take the first shot. Yet, the gunfire proved futile against the relentless creature. "Steve!" Robin's frantic shout pierced through the chaos as she tossed him the bat. Everything unfolded too swiftly to comprehend.

Overwhelmed by the sheer presence of the creature, you found your knees giving way, sending you tumbling to the ground. In a swift response, Eddie rushed to your side, offering reassurance in a soothing tone. "It's alright, it's gone," he repeated, his words a steady anchor amidst the chaos. With trembling hands, you instinctively shielded your face, attempting to suppress the rising tide of screams threatening to escape.

Unbeknownst to the group, your father had been silently observing from the shadows all along. With keen interest, he monitored the actions of his two sons and daughter, though the sight of you among them caught him off guard. This situation served as a test, one that Dean might soon recall—it was designed to assess whether the two boys were prepared to tackle cases beyond their usual scope. However, your involvement was an unexpected twist, not part of the original plan. Little did John know, another version of himself had been lurking much closer than anticipated.

Sam was the first to discern John's presence. His disbelief was palpable, tinged with a hint of revulsion at the sight of his father seemingly unscathed, contrary to the myriad theories the three Winchesters had fervently debated in recent days. "Dad? Dad?" Dean's puzzled expression mirrored Sam's confusion, just as Steve swiftly dispatched the Demogorgon with a well-timed blow. 

"Boys," John greeted with a smile that felt forced. Max, sensing an underlying unease, found herself growing suspicious. Though not intimately acquainted with the Winchesters' father, her own encounters with flayed individuals had honed her instincts. "Guys," she interjected, attempting to capture Steve's attention, "I have my doubts about him." Steve, casting a brief glance at Hargrove, immediately redirected his focus upon hearing your faint cries, ensuring your well-being as he knelt beside Eddie. Meanwhile, your brothers stood frozen in astonishment at the sight of their impostor father.

"Dean?" Max's voice reverberated in your brother's mind, prompting him to turn towards her. "Yes?" he replied, noting the concern etched on her features. An instinctual feeling swept over him, suggesting that the figure before them wasn't their father. With Sam in close proximity, Dean couldn't resist beckoning him over, yet there was no response. "I don't believe it's your father," Max murmured softly, her words carrying a weight of conviction. "And what leads you to that conclusion?" Dean inquired, though inwardly he harbored similar suspicions. Despite clinging to a glimmer of hope, he remained open to Max's insight. "Do you notice any discrepancies?" Bingo. Dean scrutinized the man masquerading as their father, discerning subtle nuances in his smile, his gaze, and the feigned affection. It became increasingly apparent that whatever entity had taken control was failing miserably at replicating their father's mannerisms.

"I'm relieved to find you all here. I was growing concerned," the voice emanated, its tone unsettling. Max's intuition proved correct. Sensing trouble, Sam moved closer while Dean hastened towards him, their actions synchronized with the abrupt sound of another gunshot. The bullet found its mark, striking the impostor masquerading as John. A sickly green fluid oozed from his mouth, portending imminent danger. His once-human eyes now glowed an eerie white. In a stroke of luck, John had managed to discharge a bullet into his counterfeit form. Sam's eyes widened in horror as he cried out for his father.

Dean's grip tightened on his firearm, grappling with the uncertainty of the situation, questioning the authenticity of the figure before him. John's eyes met yours, a silent challenge conveyed through his gaze. Despite the tension, you managed to steady your breathing, feeling the weight of the moment. With Steve's presence lending you reassurance, you stood your ground, determined to maintain composure amidst the uncertainty.

"Bringing Y/N along, really?" Your father's tone dripped with a mix of disgust and shame, causing Sam to sense the weight of the situation. Understanding the pressure you were under, he rose to stand by your side. Meanwhile, Eddie and Steve, recognizing the need for composure, subtly suggested maintaining distance, hinting at the gravity of family matters. Despite their advice, you clung to their shirts, silently pleading for their support. "Please," your eyes implored. Thus, you, Sam, Eddie, Steve, Max, Lucas, Dustin, Robin, and Nancy maintained a respectful distance, observing the unfolding events.

Dean harbored discontent towards his father's stance on involving you in the discussion. While it had been acknowledged that reaching a certain age would inevitably draw you into the hunting lifestyle, akin to Sam's trajectory, Dean remained disheartened by the prospect. He often cited Sam's own journey, pointing out how it led him to abandon Stanford and commit to hunting full-time. Unlike Dean, Sam advocated for a conventional life for you, one filled with relationships and camaraderie. The time spent in Hawkins only solidified this perspective for you. "She's prepared," Dean asserted, though John's skepticism was evident.

"Y/N, return to the car," your father's voice rang out, commanding attention as all eyes turned towards where you knelt, shaking your head in defiance. "I said, return to the vehicle," he reiterated, employing the same authoritative tone he used on Sam during the vampire hunt. Just as you were about to interject, Sam's figure materialized beside you. Sensing the escalating tension, Steve cautiously ushered Eddie away, allowing space for Sam to intervene.

 He knelt beside you, meeting your gaze with familiarity, recognizing the turmoil reflected in your eyes—a familiar sight during conflicts between your father and himself. Understanding the need to address the situation decisively, not only for his own sake but for yours as well, he inquired, "Do you want me to speak to him, instead?"

A silent sob and a nod conveyed everything. "No, Dad," Sam's voice, grave and resonant, shattered the stillness. He reserved that tone for moments of utmost gravity. Dean attempted to interject, "Sam!" but his words fell on deaf ears; Sam had already approached their father. "She's not prepared," Sam asserted, his gaze penetrating the darkness of the night. Towering slightly over their father, he leaned in, exuding an air of palpable tension. "You are the reason she departed in the first place. In any case."

"What did you just say?" John's voice carried the weight of authority, now laced with a menacing undertone aimed at both his son and daughter for their insubordination. "You heard me," Sam retorted unwaveringly, his gaze hovering dangerously close to his father's collar, poised for confrontation. Yet, he refrained from physical action, mindful of the precarious situation in Hawkins. The tension between the two men simmered, with Dean positioned between them, striving to defuse the escalating conflict. "Yes, you left when your brother and I needed you. You chose her over us! Sam! You—"

"And let's not forget, Dad, you're the one who said, 'Don't come back.' You slammed that door shut on her, not me! You were just angry because you couldn't control her anymore!" Dean interjected, seizing his brother's collar to preempt any potential altercation. John, their father, fixed his gaze on you. Sam's accusation hit home. Despite your love for him, the scars from his domineering nature and the dangers of the hunt still haunted you. Was it all to prove a point about strength? Even now, the memories of that day haunted your dreams. 

"We're all exhausted," Dean interjected, attempting to diffuse the tension. "Now that we've found you, maybe we can head back to the motel." Sam's expression betrayed his reluctance, but it seemed like the most prudent course of action. With their father located, the Winchesters knew their business in Hawkins was concluded. However, your intentions were different. You had someone else in mind: Steve.

Steve observed the scene with mounting fury. The family conflict played out before him, and seeing you curled up, trying to hide your distress, fueled his anger. He was furious at your father for forcing you into a life you hadn't chosen, for making you feel trapped by the family legacy. Watching your brother stand up for you only deepened his ire. Later that night, while your brothers tried to calm your father. From how you would see him gently caressed your cheek, wiping away any lingering tears, and let you collapse into his arms. Murmuring soothing words such as, "Hey, it’s going to be alright. I’m here." And he meant it. He stayed with you all night, knowing that by tomorrow, you might be gone. Or so he thought.

The following night, you faintly recalled your brothers arguing, their voices rising until they stepped outside to avoid waking you. The hunt had left you drained, but your father's harsh words lingered in your mind. With your eyes closed, feigning sleep, you heard the front door of the motel room creak open. Your father entered and knelt beside you, gently brushing the hair from your face. The look on his face, one you couldn't forget, made you wonder if Sam had managed to get through to him. "I am so sorry..." he murmured softly.

His voice was hoarse from crying. Whatever they had discussed was more significant than you had imagined, affecting not just you but Sam as well. As his twin, you had always stood by his side, through thick and thin. Your father, recognizing this bond, finally broke the silence, "If you want to go to college," he said, his voice laden with emotion, "then you can. I love you."

He hadn't wanted to wake you, but his genuine words stirred you. You couldn't help but lean in and wrap your arm around his waist just as he was about to leave. Initially thinking you were asleep, his eyes widened in surprise, then softened as he smiled and returned your embrace. When your brothers returned with food, Sam smiled but refrained from teasing, not wanting to embarrass you. "Dinner?" he asked simply, the warmth of the moment lingering in the air.

Your father glanced at you as you wiped away the last of your dried tears. Nodding, you joined the three men at the dinner table. As you ate, your thoughts drifted to Steve and the longing to see him one last time. "I know we're leaving tomorrow, but..." you began, cheeks flushing. Dean, catching on immediately, spoke through a mouthful of sandwich, "The lover boy?" He raised an eyebrow. Both Sam and your father chuckled, with your father raising an eyebrow in mock confusion. "Who?" he asked, though he clearly knew. "Steve," you murmured, so softly that your family made you repeat it. "Who?" they echoed, smirking. "Steve! Alright, jeez. Anyway, I have to return my DVDs anyway."

Dean rolled his eyes, even though he was notoriously inept when it came to romance. Seeing you with someone, especially someone like Steve, was undeniably endearing. He knew Steve was a good guy—after all, he had helped a complete stranger in the woods, which had led to more than just uncovering their father's disappearance. Now they knew their dad had been flayed. While Dean hated the idea of leaving so soon, he understood that helping Hawkins was necessary. And if it meant you could spend a little more time with Steve, he didn’t mind at all. "You know," he said in a suggestive tone, "I talked with this Dustin kid..."

You met your brother's gaze, eyebrows furrowed, sensing he was onto something significant. "Spill," Sam demanded.

"Well, I also talked to Dad," Dean began. "We discovered something more sinister lurking beneath Hawkins. They need all the help they can get, so I offered our assistance. We’ll be staying a few days to start our search." Your eyes widened in shock and joy as you processed your brother's words. This meant you might be staying for weeks, even months, given the seriousness of the Upside Down situation. And it also meant more time with Steve. “So, we’re staying?” you asked, excitement evident in your voice. Dean nodded with a smile, ruffling your hair. "Don't get too excited, Chipmunk. But yes, and Dad is joining in."

You couldn't be more grateful, and as the three of you settled into bed that night, only one thought occupied your mind: Steve.

The next morning, your brothers and father decided to eat at the nearest café in Hawkins. Over breakfast, you managed to gather more information: one piece related to Max's curse and another concerning Eddie's possible connection to Chrissy's murder, a name you learned only afterward. “And I thought vampires were bad,” you quipped, eliciting chuckles from your brothers. Given your extensive hunting records and those of your brothers and father, it was evident that this situation in Hawkins was unlike anything you had faced before.

After breakfast, while your family was investigating with Dustin's help, you decided to visit the store. Steve was nowhere to be found, so you gently placed the DVDs on the counter and waited. As time passed, your patience waned. With a sigh, you left the DVDs and some cash on the table, resigning yourself to the thought that Steve might already be thinking of someone else, perhaps even kissing another girl. Just as you were about to leave, a familiar voice called out, “Y/N! So sorry, it was my break shift. I didn’t–”

Your face brightened at his presence, a wave of relief washing over you for not considering his break earlier. You watched him clumsily put on his vest and walk toward you for a hug. “You okay?” he asked, releasing you and focusing entirely on you, his eyes filled with affection. You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yes, we finally managed to talk it out with my father,” you murmured, still processing the emotional weight of the conversation.

Steve's concern was palpable, but relief washed over his face as you spoke. “Also,” he added, a smile spreading across his lips, “I heard you’ll be staying here for a while, huh?” His teasing tone made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help but smile, nodding your head and murmuring a soft, “Mhm.”

"Yep, my brothers insisted on helping as much as they can," you said, appreciating their unwavering support, even in the gravest situations. It was one of the many reasons you wanted to join their hunts; balancing college and hunting didn't seem so daunting after all. "This means seeing your face all day," you added with a teasing pout, trying to feign offense. Steve's chuckle and eye roll, however, told you he saw right through your playful act.

"Ouch, I am hurt," he said sarcastically, stepping closer. It was now or never, he thought. If he waited another day, another week, who knew when he'd get another chance to express his feelings. "You know," his voice became slightly hoarse as his eyes roamed over your face and body. His fingers gently brushed your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his. Up close, you realized how striking Steve's eyes were—something you'd have to get used to. "I don't have anything planned for tonight," he purred, making you tilt your head in feigned innocence. You knew Steve had something in mind, even if he wasn't saying it outright.

"I was thinking of inviting you over for a movie night at my place. I'll cover the pizza," he offered, his words causing your cheeks to warm. While you felt the urge to inform your brothers, you decided to wait until later, until you were at Steve's house. "Alright, lover boy," you said, using the nickname your brother had coined for him. Steve grunted and rolled his eyes, dismissing the teasing. "So, tonight at 8, Chipmunk?" he added with a smirk, to which you responded with a playful glare.

"Eight o'clock it is," you agreed. Just as you felt the warmth of Steve's proximity, the door swung open. In walked Dustin, Max, Eddie, and your brothers. Dean, unable to resist, was the first to comment. "Alright, lovebirds, we've got some research to do. If you want my sister by eight, we need to get started immediately."

"Dean!" you protested, turning to face your brother with a glare. He smirked and followed Dustin to the DVD computer, while Steve protested for more carefulness. As everyone crowded around the screen, Sam approached you, leaving the two of you momentarily alone. "You know," he said with a genuine smile, "if you want to go to college—" You shook your head. Despite your father’s agreement, you couldn’t leave your family behind; you loved them too much. "No, I really think I'm ready," you replied. Sam raised an eyebrow, taken aback but relieved, and wrapped one arm around you in a quick hug.

"Then let’s kill this thing," Sam said, and you nodded, following him. Who would have thought that a place you initially hoped would hold clues about your father's whereabouts would also be where you'd find friends and someone to count on—Steve Harrington. "You okay?" Steve murmured as you joined him, noticing your brief discussion with Sam. "Yes, I am," you replied with a smile, feeling his hand gently squeeze yours. "I just can’t wait for tonight as well," you confessed, and you could have sworn you saw Steve's cheeks warm at your comment, which you found adorably endearing. He leaned in to press a kiss on your cheek, returning the favor.

"I am too," he said.

[supernovafics]

hiiii i just read your entire i’ll be there for you universe and I’M OBSESSED❤️❤️ Friends to lovers is my favourite trope ever and I love how you wrote a cute slow burn without characters being toxic and mean towards each other bc that happens a lot!

I was wondering how would their parents react to them being together?? And when do they decide to tell their parents, and how it goes down? It’s totally okay if you don’t want to write it but I thought it might be cute!🌸🌸

𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 2.3k words

warnings: explicit language, fluff, implied smut, very slight parent drama

summary: in which your parents finally find out that you and steve are dating 

author's note: thanks for the request! (also for @hippiefairy02 since you requested basically the same thing like a week ago lol). i didn’t really know how to end this one so it kinda just ends lol<3 enjoy though<333

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Spring 1986

The movie became long forgotten after only the first twenty minutes, which was somewhat of a routine at this point. It was a good thing that you both had seen this one already. 

If you were to look back at who started everything this time around you’d toss the blame onto Steve for initiating the first kiss, but he’d put the blame on you for settling yourself close into his side and giving him a “certain look.”

You were far from thinking about who started what, though, because all you could focus on was the feel of Steve settled on top of you and his mouth against yours. 

Your hands started traveling underneath his plain white t-shirt and one of his took hold of your hip, teasingly slipping a finger or two beneath the waistband of your small pajama shorts. Your legs were tangled with his in a way that was a bit awkward because the couch was way too small to do anything completely comfortably, but you two were okay with making it work for the time being. 

You maneuvered a bit, attempting to push up so that your head could find the pillow that was leaning against the arm of the couch, and the abrupt movement made your forehead bump his.

It didn’t even hurt, but Steve still pulled back and looked at you concerned. “You okay?”

You nodded as you tilted your head up a bit to press a quick kiss against his nose. “I’m fine. You okay?”

“‘M good.” He nodded too and then slotted his lips against yours again.  

You were pulling away after only a second. “Wait, let’s switch. I feel like I’m gonna accidentally knee you or something.”

“Or we can just go to one of our rooms,” He suggested as his lips found your neck, which immediately made your eyes slip shut and you had to bite your lip to hold back the contented sigh that you wanted to let out. 

You almost said yes to Steve’s words, it would’ve been so easy to say yes, but you were trying to keep your thinking somewhat rational, so you shook your head instead. “If we do that, we’re not gonna come out for the rest of the night. And we said that we’d at least try to study for the test we have on Thursday once the movie’s over.”

“The movie we’re not watching,” He mumbled against your neck. 

“Still counts,” You said, lightly pushing him away, and he conceded as you shifted things around so that you were on top of him, settled nicely in his lap with your legs on either side of him. “See? Much better.” 

Before he could potentially say anything in response, you pushed a hand through his hair and leaned down to kiss him. His fingers started teasingly playing with the hem of your t-shirt before simply finding a home on your hips and squeezing you there. 

It was almost too obvious what should’ve happened next and both of you could feel the energy shifting into something a bit more heated, more needy. You would’ve lifted from his lap for a second so that he could slide down his sweatpants and boxers, and then you’d simply pull your underwear and shorts to the side because it would’ve been too much work to fully shimmy out of them. 

But then the phone started ringing in the kitchen and everything that felt like it was right on the verge of happening was pushed out of the window.  

You detached your mouth from Steve’s and sat up. “I’ll get it.”

He let out a groan, head falling back against the throw pillow and hands still on your hips. “Don’t.”

“We have six needy kids and a Robin, I think we have to answer it.”  

“Sadly, that makes sense,” His grip on you loosened and you finally maneuvered off of him after pressing a quick kiss against his forehead. 

You went to the kitchen, where the phone was, and picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hi,” It was easy to decipher your mom’s voice on the other end of the line. “What are you doing Saturday?”

It wasn’t surprising to you that your mom completely skipped past any sort of small talk; the “How are you’s” and “How’ve you been’s.” She always got straight to the point. 

“Me and Steve are gonna be out of town this weekend,” You answered. “I planned this whole date thing and we leave Friday night.” 

It was completely accidental; so accidental that at first, you didn’t even register what you had just told her.

“You and Steve are what?” 

“We’re gonna be in Chicago this weekend for—” You stopped abruptly, finally realizing what you said before. “Oh. Oh, yeah, um, we’re dating.” 

Her gasp was immediate. “Oh my God.”

You couldn’t decipher what that reaction was. She sounded surprised, definitely, but you couldn’t tell if it was a happy kind of surprise or upset.

“How long has it been?”

“A few months.” You shut your eyes then, bracing yourself for what you knew was about to be nothing short of an interrogation.

“What? Why haven’t you told us sooner?”

In all honesty, it wasn’t like either you or Steve were planning on keeping it from your parents forever, it had just never come up in the handful of conversations you’d had with them over the last few months. 

“It’s just, I don’t know. It hadn’t come up yet,” You ultimately answered. “And plus, you never really cared that much about my other relationships.”

“Sure, but Steve’s completely different. This is great!” She told you, and you inwardly sighed in relief that she was happy about the news; even though you were certain that you wouldn’t have cared about having her “approval” either way. “Does Christine know?” 

“No.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna call her right now,” Your mom told you, and you were actually perfectly okay with her ending the call with you right then to go call Steve’s mom instead. “Oh, this is so great!”

She was hanging up before you could say anything else and you were sighing as you placed the phone back on the hook.

“I’m sorry,” You told Steve as you joined him back on the couch. 

He looked at you, confused. “What happened?”

“I accidentally just told my mom that we’re dating, and now she’s calling your mom to tell her too.”  

“Oh, okay, that’s not that bad,” He shrugged. “I guess it had to happen eventually.”

“Yes, but I was kinda hoping that that day would be years from now. Like, when we sent out wedding invitations or something.” 

In your head, telling your friends about you and Steve was one thing, but telling your parents was something entirely different. Your friends were heavily involved in your life, and you knew that you couldn’t keep it from them forever because of that; and then it eventually just felt right to finally be honest about it, anyway. 

Telling your parents, on the other hand, was the farthest thing from your mind. 

“They would probably kill us if we did that. Especially our moms because you know that they’re gonna wanna be involved in the whole thing,” Steve told you, and you knew he was right. 

There were some few and far in-between moments where your parents would switch and pretend to be real parents that were actually involved in their kid’s life. Usually, it only happened during the holidays; Christmases spent pretending that you were a happy and normal family or Thanksgivings that were used to prove the same thing. In a way, it made sense for this news to warrant that same kind of treatment.

You groaned as you leaned further into Steve. “I hate that you’re right.”

Your mom was calling back barely twenty minutes later, right as the two of you were in the middle picking up where you had left off before the first call. Steve answered that time, pulling his sweatpants back up and heading over to the kitchen, and you slipped your shirt back over your head.

“Oh, um, yeah, that’s fine. That night is good,” You heard him say. “We’ll be there.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at whatever he was agreeing to right then.  

He hung up a few moments later and gave you an apologetic look. “Okay, now I’m the one that needs to say sorry.”

“What happened?”

“It was your mom,” Steve started as he sat next to you again. “She said she talked to my mom and they’re both really happy about us dating. And they decided that they wanna have a “celebratory dinner” kind of thing with us.”

“No.”

Steve nodded. “It’s gonna be at your parent’s house on Thursday since she knows that we’re going to Chicago for the weekend. I couldn’t think of an excuse on the spot, so I was just agreeing.”

“Oh, God. I feel like this is gonna be like Thanksgiving all over again.”

“Hopefully the dessert is better this time around,” He said, attempting to lighten the mood, and you let out a laugh. 

“If not, then we will definitely be ending the night at Third Street,” You told him and he nodded in agreement before pulling you into his lap. 

“Can we please go to my room?” He asked, arms circling around you. “I feel like the couch is cursed.”

You smiled, lips finding his for a brief second. “Okay, yes, I’ll allow it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

This night didn’t feel anything like the Thanksgiving dinner that you and Steve had been forced to have all those months ago; at least, not at first. During that night, your parents had gone on and on about their ski trip that was coming up and there were barely any moments where the conversation was focused on you and Steve. 

Now things were different because all they cared about was talking about you two, which did make sense given the reasoning for the dinner. But still, you knew your parents, and this amount of excited fanfare surrounding the two of you felt entirely unexpected. 

Your dad was jokingly giving his “stamp of approval” for the relationship, and Steve’s dad was saying something about how you’d always been a good influence on Steve. And then your moms went on tangent after tangent going down memory lane and telling stories about you and Steve as kids. 

“I’d been hoping this would happen ever since the cruise,” Christine said, a happy smile on her face. “You two were practically attached at the hip the entire time, and that still hasn’t changed.” 

“Yes, you guys were always so cute together. Oh, and remember when you took each other to your proms? I think I still have the pictures somewhere,” Your mom said, smiling happily as well, and you honestly wouldn’t have even minded if she brought out the pictures. 

Eventually, though, things shifted, and toward the end of dinner, the conversation moved away from you and Steve. Instead, your parents started reminiscing about old moments from their collective friendship that didn’t involve you and Steve at all. This made sense to you; you knew that it could only be a matter of time before they finally started talking about themselves.   

With the topic of you and Steve long forgotten, you two slipped away from the table, no one noticing or stopping you, and retreated to your old bedroom that was just down the hall. 

You sat at the foot of your old bed and watched as Steve simply walked around, taking a look at the things that you had decided to leave behind and not bring along to the apartment. 

You kicked your shoes off and crossed your legs under you. “Tonight actually hasn’t been completely unbearable.” 

“Yeah, weirdly, it hasn’t,” Steve agreed as he walked over to you and leaned down to press a kiss against the top of your head. “There’s no dessert though, so we’ll have to go to Third Street.”

“Do you think they’d notice if we slipped out of my window right now?” 

He laughed a bit. “Fifty-fifty shot.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t mind taking those odds,” You said, smiling up at him. 

“I would say okay, but I think I have to be the reasonable one here and say that we should just walk out the front door like normal people.”

His words only made you smile wider because usually, it was you who would say the logical thing to do in situations.

“We’ve swapped roles tonight,” You said as you stood up and put your shoes back on. “I think you do a great job as the reasonable one.” 

“I don’t like it. You can have that job back after tonight,” He told you, smiling as his hand found yours.

You only nodded as you and he headed out of your bedroom. Your parents were still at the dining table, laughing about something that you didn’t hear. 

“Hey, we’re gonna head out. We have to wake up early tomorrow, so yeah,” You said, pulling their attention onto you and Steve. It was a lie, but it felt like it would be a plausible enough excuse. “Thanks for tonight.” 

“Yeah, it was great,” Steve agreed with a quick nod. 

A slew of “Goodnight’s” and “Drive safe’s” came from your parents, which you two nodded and smiled at before exiting your house. 

You let out a sigh of relief once you were sat in the passenger seat of Steve’s car. 

The night hadn’t been horrible, you’d experienced much worse dinners with your parents. But that didn’t mean that you weren’t glad that this one was over. 

“So, are we gonna be basic tonight and do milkshakes, or have whatever pie Mary made for the night?” You asked as you played with the radio and then left it on a station that you’d probably end up changing in a minute or two. 

Steve took a quick glance at you and smiled. “If she made apple, then I think the answer is obvious.”

“Very true,” You nodded and smiled back at him. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

[moonstruckme]

omg mae bae happy bday and congrats on 7k wowie! would you do apple pie, ¹⁰⁾ a six pack of beer and an apology, with steve harrington? <3

Thank you lovely <3

cw: alcohol, spin the bottle

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Steve finds you in the kitchen. You’ve procured a pair of scissors from somewhere, and you’re snipping apart those plastic rings that hold together six-packs. You glance up as he comes in but look away quickly, picking another up off the counter. 

“Turtles strangle themselves on these things,” you say. You snip a corner, the sound short and crisp. “I don’t know why we still use them.” 

Steve honestly doesn’t think much about sea animals when he’s drinking a beer, but he wants to agree with you. “Me neither.” 

“It’s like, we’re supposed to be this advanced society. Can’t we come up with something that doesn’t kill turtles?” 

“Mhm. Probably.” 

“I just think it’s dumb.” You push out a breath. It sounds frustrated, but Steve knows you well. You’re more stressed than angry. He’s not patient enough to wait for you to get around to telling him that yourself. 

“What’re you doing in here?” he asks. 

You look up at him again. Shrug. “I was sick of being out there.”

“You wanna go home?” 

“Do you?” 

It’s a fair thing to ask. Steve’s your ride, so leaving these things is usually a joint decision. But he feels like the question is pointed. “Do you think I wanna go home?” 

“I don’t know.” Some of the stress is seeping into your voice now, your terseness taking on a new hue. “You seemed mad.” 

He was mad (is mad?). He just hasn’t figured out if it’s fair for him to be, yet, so he wasn’t planning on making it your business. He thought that would be the nice thing to do, but you don’t seem to appreciate being left out of the loop. 

“Do I seem mad now?” he asks. 

You cut through the last plastic ring with a harsh snap. “Christ, Steve, I don’t know. Why are you asking me all this?” 

“I’m sorry,” he says, and though it’s automatic he does mean it. “I’m not trying to be mad at you.” 

Your eyes meet his, crushed before you can hide it. “But you are.” 

“Not—” He sighs, jamming his thumb against his brow bone. It’s an anxious habit, a preventative measure against potential headaches. “Not really. Not in a way that’s important.” 

“I think it’s important anytime you’re mad at me,” you say. Your voice has softened and smalled. Steve feels like his guts are in knots. He wants to make an excuse, to explain—It’s not that I’m actually mad at you. I haven’t decided if I should be. So we’re all good, right? For now, I mean. At least until I decide.—but before he get the chance to further fuck things up you ask, “Can you tell me what you’re mad about?” 

Steve drops his hand to look at you. “You really don’t know?”

You wince, and he thinks you do know. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m sorry.” 

He feels his brows furrow. “For what to happen?” 

“For it to land on you.” 

“That’s not…it’s spin the bottle. You can’t control who it lands on. That’s the point.” 

You shake your head, almost to yourself. Your fingers are fiddling with the ends of your sleeves. “I shouldn’t have even played. I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have if I’d known that was gonna happen.” 

“What do you keep apologizing for?” Some accidental anger makes its way into Steve’s tone. “Who did you want to kiss?”

You blink. “No one.” 

“Nobody plays spin the bottle unless they want to kiss someone.” 

“Well, I guess I changed my mind.” 

“Why?” 

“Because!” Your voice rises, and you lower it just as quickly. You both glance to the kitchen entryway like the calvary is going to come force you back to that stupid party just because you almost yelled. “Because,” you say, quieter, “it was weird.”

Steve forgets to even try to keep his face in check. He feels it twist with hurt. “It was?” 

“Yes! Everyone was looking at us, and it was like a game—it was a game.” You pull your sleeves over your hands, shoulders winding up tight. “I guess I just feel like that sort of thing should be private.”

Awareness dawns upon him like a slow sunrise. Steve has never been known for his book smarts, but he’s not stupid. He knows what it feels like to be liked. He’s just never known what it felt like to be liked by you. 

A little laugh of disbelief stumbles out of him. “You said ‘ew.’” 

You’d been tipsier and fizzy with excitement when the game had started. Smiling and laughing at everything, your giddiness palpable. When your turn had come, Steve had watched you carefully to see if your eyes did that hopeful flit to someone in the circle, but all your concentration had been on the bottle, your smile slipping just a little as it spun. And landed on him. 

Ew, you laughed. No, c’mon, you can’t make us.

That’s the game, Marcy had reminded you gleefully. As a resister, you now had the attention of most of the circle. It wasn’t Steve’s first time playing. He knew how it went. 

Relax. He’d forced a smile, getting onto his hands and knees to meet you in the middle. It’ll be quick. Not too disgusting.

You’d made a face of humorous unwillingness, your eyes darting around the group as if seeking rescue. Fine, you relented. If it’s not a big deal to you, it’s not to me. 

Steve had done this more than once, but it felt especially awkward with you. Crawling into the middle of a circle of spectators, your hand knocking the bottle so that it clinked and rolled. True to his promise, he kept it brief, a short, painless press of his lips. Hardly enough to feel the impression of yours before you were both pulling away, Steve silent and you spewing a string of nervous giggles. 

You’d left before it was Steve’s turn to spin. 

Now you seem near to ripping the sleeves of your shirt, the material stretched over your curled fingers as you worry your lip. You’re back to not looking at him. “I didn’t mean ‘ew’ at you.” 

It had sure sounded like it. “Then what did you mean?”

“I meant it, like, I didn’t like how things were going.” You laugh at yourself, the sound stymied. “Like ew, we have to kiss in front of everyone, or ew, Chris is watching us way too intently.”

Steve makes a face. “He was?” 

“Is that what you’re mad about?” Something seems to dawn upon you now, too, your expression clearing. “That I said that?” 

He looks at you for a second. “Well, it sounds stupid when you say it out loud.” 

“No it doesn’t,” you say, but you look to be fighting a grin. “I’m sorry, it’s not stupid. I didn’t mean to be mean.” 

“It’s okay,” he says genuinely. 

You shake your head. “I wasn’t thinking. But that’s not what I meant.” 

Steve knows this now, but he teases you anyway. “Are you sure about that?” 

You hesitate only half a second before you catch onto what he’s doing. Your smile starts to win. “I’m sure.” 

“Kissing me doesn’t disgust you?” 

“No.” Your voice is bashful now, but your eyes are steady on his as you take a step toward him. 

The knots in Steve’s guts aren’t getting any looser, though there’s a different kind of commotion going on there now. “I don’t know if I believe you.” 

You reach for each other at the same time, his hands on your ribs and yours on either side of his face, and this time there’s no glass bottles to knock or rules to adhere to or spectators to appease. This kiss isn’t short.

[lizzie-boo]

I'm Your Gift

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You surprise Steve with an early Christmas gift, you in a new lingerie set.

Words: 480

Ficmas Day 1

A/N: There's no smut in this cause I'm still unsure about writing it. But there is potential for it so if that's something you would be interested in let me know and I might make an extended version or a part two for this.

“I know we said we weren’t doing gifts this year but I got you a little something that I wanted to give you,” you tell your boyfriend Steve who is lying next to you in bed. 

“Baby you didn’t have to,” He says while rubbing his thumb across your cheek. 

You roll your eyes at him. “If it makes you feel better it’s technically for me, but it’s also a gift for you. You’ll understand in a minute.” He quirks his brow at you and you have to bite your lip to keep from smiling. “I’ll be right back.” You jump out of bed and race out of the room. 

Steve leans back into the pillows and crosses his legs while he waits for you to come back. Your words swirl around his brain but he can’t figure out what you mean. What could be for you but also a gift for him? Your light knock on the bedroom door snaps him from his thoughts. Pushing the door open you stand in the doorway. Steve’s mouth falls open as he stares at you. The hallway light shines behind you making it seem as if you are glowing. 

You take a cautious step into the room unsure if he likes the present or not. It’s not until you make your way over to the bed and see the noticeable tent in his jeans that you know you made the right choice with this gift. Carefully climbing onto the bed you straddle his lap. 

“I’m your gift, you can unwrap me if you want,” you whisper, suddenly feeling shy at his lack of response. 

His fingers trail up the red velvet fabric that covers the middle of your torso. He trails his fingers all the way up to the bow that is resting against your neck. His other hand rests against the two strips of fabric covering your hip. 

His eyes trail over you taking in every inch of skin that isn’t covered in fabric, not that there was much covered to begin with. Taking a deep breath you reach up and remove the two bows you had stuck on your boobs earlier in an attempt to cover a bit more skin. Steve’s eyes widen even more as his fingers trace the outer edge of your newly exposed skin. 

“This is the best present ever,” he mumbles in awe. 

Leaning in you place your lips to the shell of his ear. Then whispering you tell him, “Just wait until you realize there’s a lot less being covered than you think.” 

His eyebrows shoot up as he chokes in a breath. You bite your lip again trying not to laugh at his reaction. “Easy access, just for you,” is the last thing you say before he flips you on your back and begins his exploration of the bright red lingerie and your body.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Perv!Dark!Jim Hopper x fem!reader | This is a very long chapter!!! | I don’t even know the word count, but it’s a LOT…

PART ONE | PART TWO

The previous night had been one of the worst in Jim Hopper’s life. He’d endured the long hours till morning with the company of cigarettes and alcohol, ruminating on the way he’d potentially ruined his life the night before. How could he have allowed his obsession with you to sink this low? To the point of revealing his secret in the most damning way possible, literally caught with his pants down (or at least, undone). Hopper had gone to your home last night with the plan of seeing you and your boyfriend, Steve Harrington. To satisfy his curiosity about the relationship the two of you had together. Was Steve really as perfect as he seemed? Were you genuinely happy with him? Or, more pressing on Hopper’s mind, was Steve Harrington able to satisfy you?

Hopper had gotten more answers than he’d expected however, when he’d accidentally stumbled upon you and Steve sharing an intimate moment together. Nothing, especially Hopper’s barely existent sense of shame, could have stopped him from watching. He’d certainly felt shame after being caught, however. The expression in your eyes when you’d spotted him was…impossible for Hopper to read. You hadn’t looked embarrassed, or horrified, or even surprised, at least as Hopper had perceived. It’s possible, he told himself, that you were exceptionally good at hiding your emotions. Or maybe…maybe you’d known that Hopper was watching all along…?

The thought had occurred to him at some point during the night, after yet another failed attempt at sleep. Hopper stared up at the ceiling of his trailer, naked and drunkenly sprawled on his couch. He was surrounded by empty beer cans, a cigarette burning down between his lips. He watched the smoke rise to the ceiling, coiling above him in an almost hypnotic spiral, at least to his alcohol-soaked perception. The image above Hopper perfectly mirrored his life spiraling-out-of-control, and he chuckled darkly at the irony of it. Hopper thought again of your eyes, their expression which completely eluded him. And then…a new possibility occurred to him. What if you hadn’t been shocked at all by his behavior, Hopper wondered? What if the secret of his obsession was something you already knew about? Had you realized Hopper wasn’t what he seemed, that Hawkins’ Chief of Police was actually less a servant of the community, and more a slave to his own perverted impulses?

Hopper found a sick sort of comfort in this new theory, in the idea that you might have already known his secret. If you’d known he was watching you last night, along with the reason why, perhaps you’d have less reason to be shocked at his indecent behavior? Your expression had appeared so vague to Hopper, maybe because you’d known he was there watching all along? Hopper lay on his couch, wondering…if maybe you’d left your curtains pulled on purpose? Had you wanted Hopper to see your boyfriend fuck you?

The character profile Hopper had constructed of you was of an innocent girl yet to be corrupted. If he’d been wrong all this time, and you were actually as deviant as he was, then the possibility of Hopper having you became more real to him. Maybe you liked the idea of being watched, of being obsessed over? Had your innocent behavior around Hopper been an act this whole time, a game you were playing at his expense? Did you get off on knowing he wanted you, but couldn’t have you?

The sun was rising, reminding Hopper of the time. He checked his watch, realizing he’d have to leave for the station soon. Facing you would be much easier if his theory about you was right. Part of him knew it was a long shot, but fuck, Hopper needed this fantasy, the hope that you secretly liked his lusting after you, that you wanted to be wanted by him…?

────────────────

The drive to the station was relatively easy for Hopper, considering the fact that he’d had zero sleep the night before and his hangover was getting progressively worse. Regardless of how awful he felt, Hopper was impatient to receive some kind of feedback from you, whether negative or positive. Not knowing how you were feeling about last night was tying a knot in Hopper’s stomach. And as soon as he entered the station, that knot in his stomach tightened.

A young woman Hopper didn’t recognize was seated at your desk. He stopped in his tracks, surprised and growing increasingly worried. Where the hell were you?

Hopper approached the secretarial desk. “Uh, hey,” he began tentatively. “Where’s (y/n)?”

The young woman smiled back at Hopper, and in spite of his anxiety, he couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was.

“(y/n) called in sick this morning,” the young woman replied. Hopper took a deep breath; his fantasy that you’d be alright with his deviant behavior was more than likely only that: a fantasy. You probably thought Hopper was the lowest scum on Earth, and couldn’t bear the thought of coming into work today and having to interact with him.

“Did she-uh-.” Hopper paused, clearing his throat. “Did she say what’s wrong, exactly? Anything specific?”

“No, but maybe she caught the flu?” the young woman replied. “I mean, her voice sounded okay over the phone. But you never know with the flu; it could be affecting her stomach-.” She looked away awkwardly, flustered and embarrassed for rambling.

Hopper took a few seconds to consider the new layer of shit he found himself in. At this point, he was sure you’d told Steve what had happened. Because, after all, Steve was your boyfriend. Why wouldn’t you tell him?

Then again, if you had told Steve, why wasn’t he at the station right now kicking Hopper’s ass? Maybe you’d begged Steve not to tell anyone, afraid you’d put your job in jeopardy?

The temporary secretary cleared her throat to get Hopper’s attention. Her big, expressive eyes drifted up and down his body, a curious smile on her face. Hopper tried to focus on her smile and not his anxiety, grateful for the distraction when she extended a pretty hand to him. “We haven’t met before,” the young woman said. “I’m Mary.”

Hopper took her hand, which disappeared in his. “Jim,” he said, adding, “Mary. That’s a beautiful name, Mary.”

She dropped her eyes bashfully, a light pink blush coloring her cheeks. Hopper already knew Mary wanted him to fuck her; it was more than obvious. Having her would be easy for several reasons. Mary was obviously young, likely nineteen or twenty, Hopper guessed. And from experience, he knew that younger women were easier conquests, because they tended to be inexperienced and therefore, attracted to someone mature and in a position of authority like Hopper.

One of the reasons Hopper was so enchanted by you was the fact that you were the exact opposite of a girl like Mary. You were young, but not so young that you automatically came with the prepackaged naïveté Hopper had grown so bored with after years of fucking women barely old enough to drink. Women who’d maybe had one or two partners, if any. Virgins were easy for Hopper to fuck, but they bored him. He needed a woman who would let him do unspeakable things to her body, not teach her how to fuck in the first place. He was too lazy for that, too selfish. Hopper wanted you, a woman who looked sweet and innocent in public, but could handle the dicking-down he intended to give you in private…

Hopper realized his thoughts were drifting again, so he forced himself to focus on the distraction in front of him: Mary. Secretary Mary. The fact that her name rhymed with her job might help him remember it for a change, Hopper realized. Usually, he didn’t waste time cataloging information about the women he fucked; it was too much of an effort for Hopper to keep track of them all.

He’d likely never see Mary again, after today. You’d be back at the station tomorrow, and Hopper could make things right with you…at least, he hoped you’d come back. The possibility of never seeing you again was something Hopper couldn’t handle right now. He needed to see you, to talk about what happened.

Mary’s pleasant voice pulled Hopper from his thoughts. “It’s nice to meet you, Jim,” she said, and he knew she meant it. “If you need anything…” Mary held the pause in her statement long enough to make sure Hopper understood the full extent of her meaning. “…You know where to find me.”

Hopper nodded politely. He knew he’d have her in the backseat of his Blazer by lunch.

“Likewise, Mary,” Hopper smiled, his voice soft and authoritative, laying the charm on thick. Mary’s subtle change in posture, the way her shoulders went back slightly, accentuating her breasts in the most innocent way possible, confirmed Hopper’s suspicions. He leaned forward, narrowing the space between them. Mary’s breathing changed instantly; Hopper could practically hear her pulse quicken. “Hey,” he whispered, a friendly grin on his lips. “I take my lunch at eleven; you wanna get out of here for awhile?”

Mary’s answer, predictably, was yes.

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Hopper had assumed correctly that Mary-the-Secretary was a virgin. She’d blurted it out as soon as he touched her, as if confessing something. Hopper didn’t react, because of course he’d already known. And he may have been compulsive when it came to sex, but he wasn’t a monster; Hopper never planned on putting his dick inside Mary. He knew she wasn’t ready for that, and he had no desire to make her first time a painful one. His only purpose in doing anything with Mary, or any woman at this point, was to use her body as a substitute for yours…

Mary had a pretty pussy and tasted sweet, so it was easy for Hopper to pretend she was you. He ate her for twenty minutes or so, and didn’t pull her panties back up for her till she’d come twice. He looked at his watch, noting that his lunch break was nearly over. Hopper gave Mary’s thigh a hearty pat and informed her it was “time to head back,” walking around to the front of the car and waiting for Mary to do the same. She of course took a bit longer than Hopper, being unsteady on her feet. Climbing into the passenger side, she closed her eyes and leaned to rest her head against Hopper’s shoulder. He grimaced, frowning at the road ahead, but Mary didn’t see his expression.

Another problem with virgins, Hopper was reminded: They get too attached and usually, right away. Especially the younger ones, who seemed to demand a dual role of Hopper that he wasn’t willing to waste time or effort to play: the role of a father figure as well as a lover. There was nothing about any of these girls that Hopper wanted to nurture, and he tried to convey that message early on with his behavior. But sometimes, the message wasn’t received, and Hopper had a broken heart on his hands that he’d never meant to break. He didn’t mind the slight guilt it caused his conscience this time, because Hopper knew he’d probably never see Mary again. Broken-hearted girls were easy to ignore when Hopper could avoid interacting with them.

He caught a glimpse of Mary’s face in the passenger side mirror. She was positively beaming, glowing… Hopper realized she’d probably never had an orgasm before today. He sighed to himself; she was definitely attached. Hopper didn’t want a puppy, but he seemed to now have one on his heels. Mary tried to get Hopper’s attention all day after lunch, making frequent trips into his office with one excuse or another, cheeks flushed rosy, giddy with excitement at just being near him. By the time Hopper got off duty, he was more than happy to be parting ways with Mary. She saw him leaving and trotted after Hopper to his car, asking if she could see him later tonight.

Rather than give her illusions of anything further happening between them, Hopper decided to rip the emotional bandage off quickly, and be done with it. “No, Mary,” he said over a cigarette. She watched him turn his key in the ignition, her smile softly fading. “I can’t see you tonight,” Hopper continued flatly. “I have a date.”

Mary’s sweet features melted into a look of sorrow that Hopper was familiar with. He didn’t enjoy hurting young women, but delivering a well-intentioned lie was better than handing out false hope. He backed out of the parking lot and onto the main road that ran through downtown Hawkins. It would take less than three minutes for Hopper to get to your house. He was tempted. The urge to know what was going through your head right now was eating him up inside.

As usual when it came to Hopper, temptation did get the better of him. He began to feel angry at you for denying him a response. How could you not let him know where your mind was at, after what happened last night? The anxiety of not knowing was making Hopper miserable, emotionally sick. His dick had barely gotten hard when he was eating out the temporary secretary, even though he’d mentally replaced her with you.

An ugly sense of rage began to boil in Hopper’s gut. How dare you avoid him…how dare you pretend that everything was okay, that the world wasn’t caving in, making up some absurd excuse about being sick to avoid Hopper? His grip on the steering wheel had tightened to the point of discomfort, but as with his obsession, Hopper couldn’t. let. go.

The sun was setting as Hopper pulled down your street. It reminded him of where he’d been exactly twenty-four hours ago, driving from Steve’s house to yours, and how everything about his life had changed in the hour following. Hopper saw Steve’s car in your driveway, but that didn’t stop him. He was determined to get an answer, to get some kind of reassurance from you that everything last night was real, and not the result of a drug-induced dream his subconscious had conjured up. Hopper knew he had to control himself, to stuff his rage deeper lest it take hold of him and guide his mind in a direction that would cause even more harm than he already had.

Hopper pulled to a stop in your driveway, rather than parking further down the street like he had last night. What was the point? Hopper planned on being confrontational, on getting the answers he was owed. A thin line of sweat dripped down his chest as he put the Blazer in park. Hopper’s deep blue eyes were darker than usual when he checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He was reminded briefly of those cheesy horror movies where a character in the film becomes possessed. Their eyes were always depicted as changing color, going a darker shade, as if the demon that had overtaken them was seeping through the very windows of their soul. Hopper’s reflection was slightly jarring. He wondered what was possessing him? His answer came easily; Hopper was possessed by you.

He threw open the driver’s side door and slammed it shut. Hopper wiped the sweat from his forehead, then reached into his pocket for a cigarette, quickly deciding against it. He didn’t want anything distracting him, not even a cigarette. Hopper decided he could smoke after he’d handled you. He could have rang the doorbell, but opted for the more aggressive option, banging his fist against the door in three firm, thudding knocks. A muffled voice from behind the door called out, “just a sec,” and Hopper cursed under his breath. It was Steve.

The front door pulled back and Hopper found himself once again in the presence of “King Steve,” Harrington. “What an honor,” Hopper sarcastically muttered. Steve didn’t hear, as he was too busy adjusting the t-shirt he’d obviously pulled on in a hurry to answer the door. It was on backwards, tag visible on the neckline. Steve looked less like a king and more like a pauper at the moment, his shorts crooked and hair a mess. Hopper took in the sight of the younger man, the rapid pace of his breathing, perspiration glistening on the end of Steve’s nose.

Except, it wasn’t sweat. Hopper could smell sex all over Steve, and he swallowed, hard. That was you…your sweet scent radiating from Steve’s body, covering his face and neck. Steve must have realized he looked a mess, because he quickly pulled up the bottom of his shirt and wiped his face, and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. “Uh-hey Chief,” Steve said distractedly. “What’re you doing here?”

Hopper chewed his tongue so hard it hurt. How he wanted to end Steve Harrington, to shove past him and into your house. Hopper would find you and finish the job for Steve. And he’d do it better, too…

Hopper realized you must not have told Steve about last night, and that the time to confront you was not now. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I heard (y/n) called in sick today,” Hopper said quietly, then cleared his throat to speak more clearly. “Just checking to make sure she’s okay.”

Steve leaned an elbow against the doorway, nodding quickly and assuring Hopper in a flurry of words that you were “fine-just fine,” and “I’ll let her know you uh-you stopped by-.” And then, the door closed in Hopper’s face…

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Hours passed.

Hopper drank.

The Hideaway stayed open till three AM on Mondays. It was a clever business move designed to entice customers in after what was typically the most stressful work day of the week. Right now, Hopper was just grateful to have a drink in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. The location didn’t matter; he would have gladly laid his cash and self respect on the bar of any nearby watering hole. Luckily for Hopper, The Hideaway was only a few minutes drive from your house, which made it the perfect place to kill time.

He checked his watch more often than he needed, drinking shot after shot of whatever contained the highest percentage of alcohol. After his encounter with Steve that evening, Hopper needed this. If he was angry before, he was furious now. That bastard had literally been fucking you in the next room right before answering the door. Hopper threw back another shot of vodka, sucking the last of it from the glass. The bartender had been watching him for some time now, taking note of how much alcohol Hopper was consuming. He’d known Hopper long before he was ever an officer, or an adult for that matter. Randy had known Hopper his entire life. He understood the pain Hopper had endured, from his time in Vietnam to the death of his daughter, and the eventual breakdown of his marriage. Randy understood how a man like Hopper could be motivated to drink in excess, turning to alcohol to quiet the memories that haunted him, like so many others who visited the bar. Although Hopper was an adult now, Randy still kept an eye on how much alcohol he had while in his establishment. It was one small way Randy could still take care of him. And he decided that Hopper had had enough.

“Hey Jimmy,” the old man said, approaching Hopper from behind the bar. He had a glass in one hand and a towel in the other, drying it as he spoke. “You driving tonight?”

Hopper shook his head ‘no,’ and then laughed. Why should he lie? He was the Chief of Police, after all. But to spare the old man any worry, Hopper didn’t retract his lie. Instead, he doubled down on it, telling Randy through a series of slurred words that he’d walked there tonight, and planned on walking home. Randy wasn’t convinced; he knew Hopper’s trailer was all the way out by Lover’s Lake. Too far for anyone to choose walking into town over driving. But there was nothing else the old man could do besides refuse Hopper anymore alcohol. “Regardless,” Randy said. “I think it’s time for you to call it a night, Jimmy.”

Hopper groaned, rising from his barstool. He opened his wallet and removed more than enough money to pay his tab, leaving it on the bar. “Keep th’change, Randy,” he drawled, adding “Thanks for always lookin’ out for me.” Hopper staggered to the front door, leaning on it for support as he pushed it open. The night was beautiful; the cloudless sky an inky canvas, sprinkled with stars that were easily visible. Hopper stood in place but swayed on his feet, staring up at the moon. He wondered if your bedroom curtain was open tonight, letting the moonlight in? Hopper decided to find out for himself…

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You’d said goodnight to Steve around eleven that evening. After a long bath, you’d climbed into bed with a good book, read for awhile, then switched off your bedside lamp to go to sleep. Your mind, however, had different plans for you.

It had been nearly impossible to stop thinking about Hopper since last night. He’d been on your mind so often throughout the day, you’d swear he’d taken up residence inside your head. You knew he’d stopped by earlier that afternoon, claiming he wanted to make sure you were feeling better, or something to that effect. But you knew the real reason Hopper had shown up at your door, and that he was also worried you’d told Steve, maybe everyone, about last night. Your absence at work must have confirmed Hopper’s worry.

The truth, however, was much more complicated. You knew Hopper was sick. You’d known for awhile now. You’d seen the way he looked at you, sensed the energy coming from him. You’d recently become aware of Hopper’s compulsive masturbation in his office, ever since you’d taken his trash liner out (as you did with all the bins at the station before clocking out every night). At first, you’d been shocked by your discovery…but you quickly became intrigued. You wondered why Hopper needed to come so often…if maybe the way he looked at you was an indication of where his need was coming from?

The possibility of Chief Jim Hopper wanting you that desperately was…intoxicating. You’d had a crush on him from the moment you met, and in spite of your relationship with Steve, your crush had flourished into a kind of obsession. You knew exactly which cigarettes Hopper smoked (Camel’s, that was his preferred brand) how he liked his coffee (black with a spoonful of honey on the side), that his beer of choice was Schlitz. You’d purchased an aftershave that smelled like Hopper and made Steve use it. You’d snuck a peek at the tag on the navy jacket Hopper wore, and purchased one for yourself.

A favorite ritual of yours was to lay in bed wearing Hopper’s jacket and nothing else. You’d sprinkle a few drops of his aftershave onto your chest, and touch yourself. It wasn’t the same as having Hopper, but…it was enough to get you through the nights when Steve couldn’t satisfy you. Of course, your boyfriend made you come, and often. Steve was amazing in bed, and the sex you had with him was nearly perfect. The one fault you had with Steve (and it was major) was his sex drive. He simply didn’t need sex as much as you did, as often or as rough. Sometimes, you’d convince Steve to play rougher and he would, but not without asking a million times afterwards if he’d hurt you, if he’d made you feel cheap or used, or unloved? Steve was sweet, but his sweetness often got in the way of pursuing rougher intimacy, the kind you craved.

Like last night…Spitting into your mouth, and fucking you in the ass, were acts Steve never would have initiated himself. He preferred gentle, tender sex over anything. While Steve was content to be making love, you needed to be fucked. You wanted a man like Hopper to hurt you and not apologize for it. You wanted him to pump and dump you, leave you split in half and covered in his cum, and to never once say sorry…

You knew Hopper was sick, and you didn’t judge him for it. Because what no one else knew, not even Steve, was that you were sick, too. You couldn’t get enough sex, and Steve wasn’t meeting your needs. You’d kept your crush on Hopper a secret, resigning yourself to good, not great, sex.

When you saw Hopper standing outside your house last night, you made the spontaneous decision to dance for him. And when Steve appeared in the doorway, you realized an even better opportunity to ‘perform,’ for Hopper had presented itself.

Making sure to stand directly in front of the window where you knew Hopper could see everything, you’d let Steve fuck you. Knowing that Hopper was watching in secret made you unbelievably aroused. Seeing him coming all over himself afterwards was the confirmation you needed that Hopper wanted you. The visit he’d made to your home earlier had only been the beginning. You knew that if Jim Hopper wanted to fuck you…he’d be back.

The sound of your front door being unlocked startled you. It must be Steve, of course, since your boyfriend is the only other person with a key to your house. At least, that’s what you thought…

“Steve?”

The door slammed shut. Footsteps on the stairs told you immediately that this was not Steve. You knew his gait, the sound of his walk. You’d heard your boyfriend go up and down those stairs dozens of times. These steps were heavy, uneven. The intruder paused at the sound of your voice, when you called out “who’s there?”

Hopper stepped through your bedroom doorway, making you jump. “S’okay, it’s alright,” he said, lifting his hands to show you he meant no harm. “I just wanna talk, okay? We need to fuckin’ talk…” Hopper sat on the end of your bed, his weight shifting the mattress under you.

“I don’t want to talk,” you told him, to which Hopper immediately replied, “I understand. You’re probably very confused about last night, but you don’t have to be embarrassed.” You tried to interrupt, but Hopper wouldn’t let you get a word in. “I just wish you would have fucking talked to me.” His voice was intense, darker. “You don’t show up at work- What am I supposed to think?!” Hopper slammed his fist against your bed, making you jump. “That my life is over? That I’m never gonna see you again?” Hopper’s speech was slurred, but you understood exactly what he was saying.

He was staring you down, his eyes lingering over the sheet concealing you. Hopper wanted so badly to rip the fabric back and see your body beneath it. All of his strength was focused on controlling himself, because despite the alcohol slurring Hopper’s words, he was very much aware of what was happening, and where he was. He was sitting on your bed, the most intimate place in your home. The place where you laid your head each night and dreamed, where you likely touched yourself. You were so vulnerable like this, Hopper realized. If he lost control right now, and let his darker impulses take hold of him, he might do something even worse than he’d done last night…

“I don’t want to talk,” you repeated, and Hopper laughed darkly. “Well that’s just fine, because I AM gonna talk and you’re gonna fucking LISTEN-.” Hopper grit his teeth, his jaw tensed. He wanted to punish you right now so badly, for making him endure the torture of your silence, your absence. You sat forward in bed, the sheet concealing your body falling aside. Hopper’s features softened, his lips parting slightly, eyes fixed on your exposed breasts. You watched as Hopper’s body language shifted, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallowed. He was obviously aroused by your nakedness, and for the first time all night, Hopper was at a loss for words.

Taking his hand, you placed his palm over your breast. Hopper drew in a deep breath, staring at his hand cupping your tit, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. You repeated the same words, but slower. This time, Hopper knew precisely their meaning: “…I don’t…want…to TALK…” Hopper understood. You weren’t interested in talking. You wanted him to fuck you.

Hopper’s lips replaced his hand over your breast. Latching onto your nipple, he pressed the tip of his tongue against it before circling and sucking. Your surprised whimper at his intensity made Hopper’s cock stiffen, throbbing against the confines of his jeans. He sank his teeth lightly into your breast, grunting into your tit when a low moan escaped your lips. The sounds you made were divine, even prettier than Hopper had imagined.

His hands gripped the flesh at your hips, groping along your belly to your thighs. His lips crushed against yours as he used his hands to spread your thighs wide open. Hopper felt your cum on his fingers, and put them to his lips. His tongue swept over your slick once, twice, three times, because to Hopper, you tasted like God. The scent of you hadn’t done justice to the divinity of your taste. Hopper sucked his fingers clean before grabbing your legs and tugging your ass down the bed toward him. You gasped, smiling, that smile Hopper could never get tired of seeing, all innocence and corruption at the very same time; a smile that looked angelic on a mouth built for nothing but sin…

Nestling between your legs, Hopper rested his cheek against your inner thigh. He wanted to savor these sensations…your cum slicking his cheek where it rested against your thigh…your scent vanilla sweet, just inches from his nose…the view of your soaked pussy glistening wet and warm…

Hopper lowered his face and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your clit. Your skin tasted so sweet, like a ripe peach waiting to be bitten. Hopper couldn’t go a second longer without your cunt in his mouth. With his big hands clenching your hips, Hopper pulled your cunt over his lips. Your back arched as Hopper flexed his tongue inside you, curving it around your g-spot.

Your fingers latched onto Hopper shoulders, bracing yourself as your body shivered. No one had ever licked your cunt like this, eating you from the inside out. You twisted and writhed, your lower back lifting off the mattress. If your hips hadn’t been anchored down by Hopper’s hands, you were convinced you’d be floating by now. It already felt like you were. Hopper was licking places so deep inside you, he forgot to breathe. His nose was pressed flush to your clit, his chin rutting against the curve of your ass. Hopper never wanted to leave the warmth of your cunt, not even for air. He pressed two fingers inside you and with an almost hypnotic pace, Hopper expertly fingered your cunt. He spread your slippery lips apart with his tongue, honing in on your clit. Wrapping his mouth over the raised pink bud, Hopper sucked in time with the thrusts of his fingers inside you.

Your eyes were on the ceiling, but you didn’t see it. You were floating, melting, dissolving under Hopper’s lips and around his fingers. The sopping wetness of you sprayed over Hopper’s face, your pillowy walls sucking and contracting around his fingers as you came. Hopper lapped at your cunt like a thirsty animal; he’d never been so drunk on a pussy that he’d blacked out like this, lost track of time and space and everything in between. Your cunt in Hopper’s mouth was like a strong hit of the best drug he’d ever tried. He was addicted instantly. No other pussy would be able to satisfy Hopper after this; he was sure of it. Hopper rubbed his face into your cunt, smearing your cum all over his face. He knew now why Steve was always covered in you; Hopper understood completely. Your cum smelled like every good pussy Hopper had ever had, combined.

As your hips stilled, Hopper lifted his face to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, a thin sheen of sweat coloring your cheeks ruddy, eyebrows cinched together. Your voice was weak, but you managed to softly whimper “more…” and pressed Hopper’s face into your cunt again. He took another hit, another drag, another shot of you. That euphoric bliss went straight to Hopper’s cock, and his climax took him by surprise, filling the crotch of his jeans with cum. You came harder this time, losing yourself for a moment in a black pool of pleasure, your eyes on the ceiling but not in this world anymore.

Hopper rose up from between your thighs, cum dripping off his chin as he hovered over your body. He smacked his palm against your pussy and you choked back a sob, a pain that Hopper was as quick to rub away as he was to dole out. He alternated between spanking your pussy with a force so brutal it shook the bed frame and made you cry, then rubbing his palm against your abused cunt till you were crying in pleasure. Hopper forced three fingers from one hand inside your sopping cunt and hooked them around your insides, ramming into your pussy as hard and as deep as he could, his knuckles disappearing inside you, fingertips nudging your cervix. All throughout this beautiful torture of your insides, Hopper continued to spank his other palm against your cunt. Your lips were already swollen but now, they were twice as puffy and twice as tempting to suck. Hopper removed his fingers from you and pushed his face between your legs again, growling into your plump heat, his spent cock stiffening again inside his cum-soaked jeans.

He pulled your lips between his, suckling at their pillowy softness. Hopper gulped your cum as you squirted again, sealing his open mouth over your pussy so he wouldn’t miss a drop. His stomach was full of cum, his tongue thick and heavy, and Hopper had never been a happier man. You pressed his shoulders back, and he let you climb on top of him. You rubbed yourself against Hopper’s crotch, the bulge in his jeans wet with both his cum and now yours. Speeding your lips around the outline of his cock, you humped Hopper through his jeans. The weight of you on top of his cock made Hopper groan, the rocking of your hips as you rutted over and over again along his clothed erection pushing Hopper over the edge. He came inside his jeans again, grunting through his climax as you never stopped humping him, as you drained every drop from Hopper’s cock and refused to climb off till you’d come again, too.

Despite the fact that he’d already come twice, Hopper couldn’t stop getting hard again within five minutes of coming. He pulled his cock from his jeans, shaking it by the base, letting his cum fall off his dick and onto your stomach. Hopper grabbed your hips and flipped you over, spitting on your asshole and rubbing his fat tip against it. Without warning, he buried himself inside you, splitting you open just like you wanted. You yelped in pain; Hopper’s hand found your mouth, cupping around your face from behind. “Bite down,” he ordered, shoving his fingers between your lips. Hopper fucked you harder as your teeth sank into his skin. The pain in your asshole began to subside as you braced your teeth around Hopper’s fingers. His cock was stretching your asshole beyond its capacity to hold him; but with every punch of your guts, the pain got easier and easier to take.

“I’m gonna come-,” Hopper panted over your back. “I’m gonna come again-FUCK!” Hopper emptied his third load inside you, painting your asshole with semen. His body shivered, trembling, and you felt the vibration through his cock, still hard as a diamond in your ass. Sweat dripped from Hopper’s chest onto your back. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, sucking the small bit of blood off of them. Hopper lazily humped the soft curves of your ass, pushing his cum deeper as his cock softened inside you. “You did so good,” Hopper murmured against your ear. “Such a good fucking girl…”

You tilted your head back, lips parted in a contented smile. Your hair was drenched in sweat, wispy strands sticking to your forehead. Hopper took his time kissing each one, letting his cock linger inside you, making sure every single drop of his cum was deposited there. When he did pull out, Hopper trailed kisses along the curve of your back, gently removing his cock from inside you.

“Is there a mess?” you asked, and Hopper smirked, looking down at his dick.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he replied, reaching for a tissue box on your nightstand and using them to wipe his cock clean. You realized the sun would be coming up soon, and that you’d both have to get ready for work. “How about a shower and some breakfast?” you asked, and Hopper smiled. “I’d like that,” he said.

After showering, you showed Hopper where the kitchen was and he made you both scrambled eggs and toast. He needed to leave a little early to go home and change into his uniform. You kissed Hopper goodbye and watched him walk to his vehicle through your front doorway. And it occurred to you that this…all of this…was absolutely going to happen again.

@mrshopper84