#pushing ace steve

[weepinghyacinth]

Aro flag coulorpicked from Steve Harrington

[shaxza]

[sp0o0kylights]

We often see Robin focused on her own love life (or lack thereof) while Steve collects more You Suck tallies on the board, but imagine Steve does find a girl he dates that he hits it off with?

He aces dates 1 through 5 and suddenly he's around a little less, his new relationship looking serious, and Robin isn't jealous but--

She is worried.

That's her best friend. Her platonic soulmate!

She doesn't think Steve would ever stop being those things--Her dingus has a soft squishy heart under all that hair.

Problem is, Robin's seen this play out before.

Had band friends drift away because someone's dating someone else and suddenly they're all wrapped up in each other's lives, friends pushed to the wayside.

She doesn't say anything though. Knows how lonely Steve is. How much he wants (and deserves) a relationship.

Then the worst possible fucking thing happens: Steve's new girl telling him she isn't comfortable with Robin.

That she doesn't believe girls and guys can be "just friends" and would Steve please stop seeing Robin so much? Please?

Her friends even saw him taking Robin out to lunch yesterday and thought he was cheating!

Of course she knows Steve isn't cheating. He'll prove it to her, right? By letting Robin know they can only be coworkers? And their friendship?

Robin hears all this at her and Steve's next shared work shift, and she feels the floor of her world give out beneath her.

Fear and hurt crawling up her throat because of course Steve can't tell whatever her name is why Robin will never date him.

Of course this chick clearly isn't taking Steve's regular excuses as an answer, and--oh God, what if Robin is losing him, isn't she?

Then Steve's done talking, clearly expecting Robin to say something, and oops she may have been panicking and not listening there at the end but she manages a very choked up;

"I mean if you think shes like, the one..." because what is she supposed to say!?

And Steve, the only person Robin's met who craves a relationship as much as she does if not more, frowns at her with a bitchy little twist to his face and says: "What part of "so I told her that was ridiculous and we broke up" didn't you hear?"

Robin gasps a breath, the world stable once again. She doesn't know when she started crying but she does register Steve's panic when he clocks it, panicking and pulling her into a hug.

"Oh my God did you think I'd agree with her!?" He says and he sounds a little hurt about it, she'll have to fix that, but presently all Robin can do is cling to her best friend and sink deep into the knowledge that he really won't leave her.

Even for the things he wants in life the most.

[yelenasdiary]

Hey, i'm the same one with the idea.

So i was thinking, the Marvel universe.

Wanda had the boys, but they are Vision's kids. Yn is their bestfriend(Wanda and Nat) and played like cupid, you know, they were a couple thanks to her.

So well, I was thinking something about being reincarnated, i don't truly believe in it but in a history i like that type of things.

Wanda was pregnant again, with a baby girl, and in the time Wanda was suppose to gave birth, Yn was in a mission but it went wrong, she got shot and even if they try to "fix" everything, they couldn't and she died.

In the moment, the doctors were trying to do their things, Wanda has the labor contractions and finally gave birth.

So the thing is, the "soul" of Yn went to the baby, or something like that.(I don't know how to say those things, i try my best to write in english hahaha)

And Wanda and Nat found about it and named the baby after Yn.

While the little Yn was growing up, they saw how many things she did in the same way as Yn, and of course they talked about her with the little one.

And basically, you can change everything you want and need to write the story, if you want to write it, of course. Thank you. Have a good day, or night.

Watching Over You

Pairing: WandaNat x Fem! Avenger! Reader (Platonic), Mentions of Wanda x Vision. 

Summary: Somethings in this world are unexplainable but what if that one thing helped bring two people together to start a new life

Angst, Comfort

Warnings: Character Death, Mentions of guns, and Child Birth | 1.5K

Translations: Detka (baby),

AC: I love this idea, it’s something different! I hope you enjoy this, I do apologise if this isn’t as exciting as you hoped. Thank you for sending it! x 

The blue sky started to look dim, your body turning cold as Clint and Steve rushed you to the quinjet. Steve carrying you bridal style while Clint cleared the path, the soldier laid you down on one of the uncomfortable beds and strapped you down tightly. “It’ll be okay! We’ll get you home” you heard Steve’s faint voice before things went black. Clint wasting no time starting up the jet to rush you home to medical. 

Meanwhile, your best friends were preparing for the next chapter in their lives. You could say you were cupid in Wanda and Natasha’s love story. After Wanda and Vision got divorced, Wanda struggled to get out of the loveless slump she was in. You did everything you could think of to help her get over Vision, but it was hard when her two eldest children were fathered by him. But with some time and patience, Wanda opened herself up to dating again. Did she expect her next marriage to be with a woman? No, but she was so thankful that you helped her see just how much Natasha loved and cared for the mother of two. 

It wasn’t exactly easy for Nat either. Her feelings for Wanda started well before the brunette got divorced and watching Wanda have a little family with somebody else pushed Natasha’s hopes for a family of her own further and further to the back of her mind. But now? Now Natasha and Wanda were hours away from welcoming their first child together. 

Without you and setting up a cheeky few blind dates and listening for hours on end to your friends feelings for one another, you weren’t sure what the two would be doing now. But it’s been 2 years since they got married and a lot of happy tears on the way. 

“Something isn’t right!” Wanda said in a panic, “Nat, something isn’t right, I can feel it!” She added, rubbing her hand over her swollen stomach. Wanda’s water broke a couple of hours ago, but she wasn’t dilated enough to be taken to the delivery room. Natasha comforted her wife by taking her hand, “have some ice chips detka, everything is okay, I promise” she replied before offering Wanda a cup of ice chips. Wanda saw that Natasha didn’t quite understand her wife’s worries, she slowly shook her head, “it’s not the baby, something just doesn’t feel right” Wanda said, her eyes building with tears. 

“Do you want me to get a nurse?” Natasha asked. Wanda shook her head, “please don’t leave me” Wanda replied, looking up at Natasha. Although Wanda’s current state of mind was confusing Nat a little, she sat down beside Wanda’s bed and quickly changed the topic to keep her wife distracted. 

“So, do you think is going to get jealous first? Tommy or Billy?” She joked, causing Wanda to playful slap her hand away from her. 

----

What seemed like forever had passed, Wanda was only seconds away from giving birth. Natasha by her side holding her hand has her wife almost broke her knuckles in pain and while the delivery room was full of excitement and happiness, another room was full of the exact opposite. 

Tony, Steve, Clint, Maria, Thor, Bucky and Pepper sat around the large table in one of the many conference rooms. Nothing but silence was shared, tissues in the center of the table that mainly Maria and Pepper reached for, the guys looking at one another, all wondering how to process the news. 

“We have to tell them” Steve broke the silence. 

“Last update I had was Wanda was taken into the delivery room. Nat said she’d keep me posted but I don’t think we tell them yet” Clint replied. 

“We can’t not tell them; they’re going to know. Especially Wanda” Maria chipped in, whipping her tears on a tissue. 

“How about we just deal with it when need too, right now, we should probably go to the hospital and be there for them” Pepper suggested, “nothing we do is going to change anything” she added. Tony nodded in agreement, “if anything, we tell Nat first. We shouldn’t tell Wanda right now” he inserted. 

The small team came to an agreement, it wasn’t easy, and they wished things were different, that they would have better news but the best thing they could all do right now was to be there for each other. 

Steve knocked softly on Wanda’s door in the hospital before slowly opening it, everybody had a soft smile on their faces and even through the news they had to keep to themselves for now, the excitement of meeting a new little family member helped make things feel a little better. 

“Hey guys!” Wanda smiled softly at her extended family. Natasha was gently rocking their new-born daughter in her arms as the others entered the room. Clint stepped close to Natasha, looking down at his friend’s little baby. “She’s beautiful” he whispered softly.  

“Do you want to hold her?” Nat offered with a sense of proudness in her voice, Clint nodded, “I’d love too” he added. 

“Hey, where’s Y/n?” Wanda asked, looking at everybody. Thor’s eyes dropped immediately to his feet which only made Wanda tilt her head slightly to the side, “Nat, uh, there’s something I need to run by you, do you mind if we step outside for a moment?” Steve quickly said before Wanda could question anything. Wanda watched as Steve and Natasha left the room, the others quickly turning the attention back to the baby in Clint’s arms. 

“Does she have a name yet?” Maria asked. 

“We have a couple of ideas, but nothing seems to feel right at the moment” Wanda said, smiling tiredly at her. 

“Steve, what is it?” Natasha asked, a sparkle in her eye that Steve hated to break. “We thought it would be best to tell you first” he started. 

“Tell me what?” Natasha frowned slightly, trying to read Steve for an answer. 

“Y/n is gone. There was a situation on the mission, and she was shot, she never made it off the table Nat” 

Natasha was in disbelief as she cocked a brow at her friend, “you know this is a really shitty time to play a joke like that. She’s never miss this” 

Steve stood in silence, allowing the news to sink in until it did, and Natasha’s eyes filled with tears. “When did Helen call time of death?” Natasha asked. “6:42pm” Steve answered, unaware that the little fact would cause Nat to break completely. He caught her in his arms, comforting her until she was able to gather herself once more. “I t-think you guys should go” she looked up at him, “I need to tell Wanda” 

“I understand” Steve replied before the two of them entered the room once again. “Alright guys, I know it’s exciting, but I think we should let Wanda get some rest and our little darling will need a feed soon” Natasha announced, any excuse to kindly ask them to leave. They understood the moment they looked at Steve, they all gave Wanda a hug before the room was just the three of them. 

----

It took a few long days for Wanda to process the news, every time she looked at her new baby, all she felt was happiness but in the short moments she was able to look into her daughter’s eyes, all she saw was you and that was the thing that troubled her a little. Not everybody believed in reincarnation, Wanda wasn’t sure she believed in it much herself but when it came to finalizing the birth certificate, it was time to give the new-born a name. 

“That can’t be right” Wanda frowned, the blue ballpoint pen hovering over the birth certificate. 

“What’s not right detka?” Natasha asked, placing her hand on Wanda’s knee under the dining room table. “Pumpkin’s time of birth, it has to be a mistake” she replied. Pumpkin being the nickname they gave their daughter until they were able to settle on a final name. 

“I was hoping that you wouldn’t notice that” Nat replied, watching as Wanda’s eyes filled with tears. She dropped the pen from her hold and ran her fingers through her hair, “our best friend died the exact same time our daughter was born” she looked to Nat, “call me crazy but this can’t be a coincidence. Every time I look into Pumpkin’s eyes, all I see is Y/n. Even her cheeky little smile makes me feel like Y/n is here” Wanda went on. 

Natasha didn’t think her wife was crazy, not for a second. “Me too” the red head admitted, bringing her hand to cup Wanda’s cheek, wiping her tears. “I know we’re stuck on a name but I can’t help but want to name her after Y/n” she added. Wanda smiled softly through her tears, “I wanted to suggest that. I would love to name her after Y/n, I think it’s a great idea” 

As time went on, little Y/n grew up knowing more and more about the Avenger she was named after, she leant about how you helped her mother’s get together, she learnt all about your favorite hobbies, likes and dislikes. There was plenty of little things that mini-Romanoff did that made everybody around her think of you, from her cheeky smile to her stubbornness and even her mischief behavior when playing with her brothers, she might be half Wanda and half Natasha but she was in many ways, a part of you.

Taglist: @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @karmasgxrl | @marvelwomen-simp | @swaqcenix | @mostlymarvelsstuff | @scarlettbitchx | @mallyka-blog | @itsalwaysskorpioszn | @angel68104 | @natashamaximoff-69 | @evilcr0ne | @caporal-nino | @boredandneedfanfics | @teganmiller | @ihavezeroclue13 | @tobiaslut | @cigarsandscotchallday | @nuianced-tck-enby | @springsheep | @prentgarcialuvr | @stayevildarling | @mommysgoodlittlebrat | 

If you want to be on the taglist for my work, please click HERE.

[sondheim-girly]

Curtis gang post canon having a pool party at Marcia’s house (with marbit and cherrycola)

-ok so Marcia has this really big pool at her house

-and one day when her parents are away and it’s super hot, two bit convinces her to invite the gang over

-it’s chaos

-they are splashing each other and wrestling each other in the water and having sooo much fun

-ya know that game where people sit on top of each others shoulders and try and get the other person to fall into the water? They go to town with that game

-Ace is on Darry’s shoulders and soda is on Steve’s shoulders and ace and soda are pushing and shoving and going to war

-they’re having soooo much fun

-pony being scared of swimming cuz he was almost drowned by Bob is so cannon to me

-he sits with his book on a beach chair the whole time

-cherry comes over and talks with him because sorry they’re besties, but she also swims a ton

-Marcia’s always happiest when she’s swimming, and so two bit is always most in love with her when she’s swimming, so they spend the a lot of the time away from the crowd being tooth rottingly cute

-but he definitely does spend some time lowkey drowning soda, dw tho they’re doing it to each other!

-them and Steve roughhousing in the pool is so real to me

-ace also loves swimming and I think her and Marcia spend some time doing laps together

-darry falls asleep on a beach chair next to pony cuz lord knows he needs some relaxation

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 9

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You’re drenched. Sweat slakes on your forehead and down the back of your neck. Your chest is sticky and your clothes are damp. You grumble as you drift up to consciousness into the stolid air. Your mouth is dry your throat coarse, and your scalp slick. 

It’s so damn hot in here. You wipe the sheen from your cheek as you bend your leg higher around the edge of the blanket. You open your eyes as your skirt rides up over your ass, exposing your hot flesh to the room. The hotel room... 

You’re not alone. 

You push yourself up as the previous day washes over you. You blink dizzily as your vision clears. Your gaze clings to the man next to you. Naked, exposed except for the fortunately placed corner of the blanket across his pelvis. You gulp at the power woven into his firm muscles. 

You turn your legs over the edge of the bed and peel your thighs apart. You cross the room, groaning, and twist the dial on the air conditioner. Nothing happens. You click it back and forth groggily. 

The grunt from behind you makes you jump. You stand straight and face Rogers,as his arm fall over the edge of the bed. He stretches, arching his back, and drags his other hand over his face. 

“The hell is it so hot?” He growls. 

“AC’s broke,” you shrug. 

He turns his head and his lashes flick as he sees you. You shuffle step and stop. His eyes wander down your body. You look down and flinch. Your camisole is crooked, exposing one side of your bra and your skirt is wrinkled up above your thighs. You fix your clothes and clear your throat. 

“Great,” he sits up curls his shoulders forward as he uses his fingers to untangle his hair. “So much for that shower.” 

“Uh, yeah,” you try to smooth out the fabric of your skirt. “Shoot.” 

“Bag’s in the car,” he grumbles. He grabs a pillow and stands, shielding himself with it as he moves around. You turn away, embarrassed. 

“I could get it--” 

“Keys are on the table,” he grumbles and crosses to the bathroom. 

You flit around him and snatch up the keys. You need space as much as you need the fresh air. You step into your heels and hurry out the door. This is strange and awkward. How can he be so unbothered by all of it? And you still don’t know what this mysterious job is. 

You go down to the car and after finding the trunk empty, discover his leather bag in the back seat. It’s heavier than you expect. Probably not to him. 

You take your time going back and hesitate to enter. What if he’s just... naked... 

You enter with your eyes down. He’s on the bed, the blanket over his lap as he stares at his phone. You don’t like how familiar this is getting. 

“Here,” you put the bag by the bed. “I’ll give you the room. Guess you don’t want to waste time--” You go to grab your blouse. 

“You should wash up,” he insists. “Got a long day and important people to meet.” 

“Right, er...” you look at your blouse and your skirt, “you think there’s an iron in here?” 

He grabs the bag and lifts it onto the bed with one arm. He unzips it and pulls out a pair of folded slacks, then some more fabric; boxers you try to ignore. 

“Stay, shower,” he says. “I’ll go find something you can wear.” 

“Oh, that’s fine. I can make this work--” 

“Hey,” he says sharply. “Let’s get something straight, right now. The people we’re dealing with, you don’t argue with me in front of them. You just do what I say.” 

“Gee, okay,” you say, startled by the sudden edge in his voice. 

He sighs and unfolds the boxer. Your eyes round and quickly step around the bed. “You’re right, I'll have a shower.” 

You quickly hide in the bathroom before you can see much more. It’s only hot because of the AC, nothing else. A nice cold shower will do the trick. 

You get undressed and crank on the water. You step behind the curtain and sigh. You never knew ice cold water could be this refreshing. As it pings off your chest, you hear an odd creak. 

The curtain darkens with a silhouette on the other side. Is he... in there? You can make out his dark clothing and his vague figure. You’re all too conscious of how much he can probably see of you. 

He turns on the sink and you hear him brushing his teeth. He takes his time as he readies, entirely unfazed by the strange circumstance of it all. You shrivel under the downpour and wait him out. Or try to. 

“Oh shit,” you utter as the shower swirls and your head swims. It must be the sudden shift from hot to cold but you’re entirely off-balance. 

You reach and grab the towel bar as you tilt to the side. You lean into the curtain and your legs hit the raised lip. The plastic wraps around you as you topple and hit the floor, the rings tearing through the curtain. You’re not out, just foggy. 

“Huh?” Rogers grunts. “Hell. You okay?” 

“I’m...” you fight the curtain, “I’m good. Just... stuck.” 

He huffs again and bends to help unsheath you from the curtain. It isn’t until you’re free that you remember how exposed you are. Completely. He stares at you. Your skin is even hotter than before. His throat bobs and without looking, he reaches over you. He pulls the towel off the bar and drapes it over you. 

“Get up,” he stands straight and turns his back on you. 

The tension is as unbearable as the still heat. You cover yourself and stand. You sidle around him and out of the room. You’re mortified. Stressed. And still dizzy. 

This job is going to be even harder than you thought. Why couldn’t he just let you be? You should be headed off to a new life, instead, he’s dragging you into this one. 

[jedi-luca]

Something’s in the Air - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Beefy!Reader

18+ only, read at your own risk (graphic image inside)

Summary: Natasha returns from a mission after being exposed to a chemical that makes her extremely, extraordinarily feral for you. 

Reader has a penis; no pronouns used.

Part 1 can be found on @dirtyvulture page

3 Hours Later

“We should probably get out of here.” You chuckled looking at the destroyed hospital bed before looking back at your girlfriend. She was looking at you in a way that simultaneously scares and turns you on. “Nat?” You croak feeling her clench you.

“Oh we’re not going anywhere.” Natasha used the sheer power of her thighs to straddle you. “I need you Y/N. So badly it’s like I'm in pain without you inside of me.”

“Babe, we've been going at it for like 3 hours now. I want breakfast and sleep.” 

“I need you so badly it hurts.” She mewled, rocking her push against your flexing abs.

“Maybe Dr. Cho has an antidote to this exposure.” You say, hating the thought of her in pain. “Give me a chance to get hard again. Get on my face.” you say already pulling her by the hips.

Natasha eagerly turned around lowering her hips. She needed to squirt and when she relented control she would be shaking, eyes rolling to the back of her head, Russian words fleeting her lips because she can’t even distinguish English from Russian. She shook with anticipation, feeling your lips kissing her thighs.

You swiped your tongue causing the ex-assassin to let out a long moan as she felt your lips wrap around her bud. You enter her with two fingers making her gasp. Her hips were rocking roughly against your mouth and fingers. You kept one hand against her abdomen.

Your voluptuous girlfriend looked down at your semi. Her mouth salivated. She was embarrassed to say she definitely drooled a bit on you before lifting your member, and fully stuffing you down her throat.

You groaned, sending vibrations against her clit causing Natasha to moan. Sending the same vibrations with you down her throat. She could feel your abs flexing and your toes stretching. It always made her unbelievably wet when she made you moan or twitch. She gasped feeling your fingers tapping inside of her. Winding up her coil in a way only you know how.

Meanwhile outside the door of an Un-soundproofed room

“Bruce you know how I feel about bringing your work in here.” Steve furrows his brows walking into the kitchen seeing Bruce and Cho typing on their laptops. Test tubes along the table.

“Yeah Natasha and Y/N are occupying that area at the moment.” He chuckled, taking his glasses off looking at a giggling Cho.

“Well then just move them!” Steve huffed before turning on his heel.

“Cap, I don't recommend going that way.” Cho and Bruce said in unison.

“Why?” He huffed.

“Natasha was exposed to a hydra chemical.” Doctor Cho said with a sigh. “We’re trying to find an antidote now.”

“Oh well I’ll go check on her.”

“Cap, Y/N is with her.” Bruce said, looking at him in a way Steve couldn’t comprehend.

“Oh good, I needed to talk to Y/N anyway.” He smiled Before Cho or  Bruce could say another word Steve was going up the stairs and down the hall.

“This should be good.” Tony cackled watching him go up as he brought his team an iced coffee and a boom box that dummy was carrying.

Steve stopped in his tracks the moment he heard the moaning and ran back down. “They’re doing it.” He said cringing as running past them. 

“Oh I can’t make this shit up.” Tony laughed before blaring some AC DC.

Back in the medbay

“Y/N.” She breathes out, popping you out of her mouth suddenly. Natasha’s mouth went agape feeling a great pressure in her core before feeling herself release into your mouth like a waterfall. “Oh my God yessss.”

Natasha moved away from your mouth and gripped you with her hand.

“Fuck baby.” You both moaned as she slid her velvet walls down your shaft.

“You feel sooooo good.” Natasha gasped, placing one hand on your chest and the other on your thigh. Using momentum to rock her hips. “So good, so good!” She chanted rocking and rocking until she quivered above you. Squelching sounds of your combined fluids filled the room, and the pristine crisp smell of clean chemicals was long gone. The only smell was the scent of sex.

You caught her before she fell against your chest. You could see tears in her eyes as her pussy convulsed around you. “I love you so much.” She cried against your forehead.

“I love you too baby. So much.” You say softly in her ear before taking her wrists behind her back with one hand. The other hand wraps around her throat as you thrust up.

“Yeah! Ooooh!” She lets out a throaty groan trying to meet your thrusts. Wiggling and circling her hips. She was so wild, more so than when you were both stuck on an island for 3 weeks.

You moan pulling out quickly causing Natasha to clench around nothing. “No back inside.” She muttered trying to grip you, but you sat up with her in your lap. You slip back inside of her. 

“Yes!” She cries out gasping for air kissing you with both hands roughly before breaking gasping for breath. She chanted yes as you suckled on her neck her breathing picking up and her hips rocking faster and faster. 

Natasha hooks her arm around you moaning as she arches back, throwing back her hair. “Fuck.” She groans using her other arm to help with momentum. You trail your lips from the nape of her neck down to her rosy nipples. Squeezing and sucking leaving marks in your wake.

You can feel the pressure inside of her. She's so close. Her clit is hitting your flexed abs with every rock she makes. Your hands felt like they were everywhere and your lips and tongue took a hold of her. The red head wrapped both arms around you squeezing you as she came apart. You could feel the rush of liquid and drops of her tears against your skin. “Ooh fuck ohhh Y/N it feels so good!” She cried against your neck. “It feels - so fucking good.” She moaned humping you over and over again as her orgasim continued.

You grunted pulling out before you exploded.

“Fuck Nat!” You say throwing her around until she was on all fours dripping like a fire hydrant. She loved when you were at this stage almost like a caveman. She loved how tiny she is compared to you. She looked back looking at the way your muscles gleamed with sweat. The veins running down your abs to your thick cock made her impossibly even hornier. 

“You’re so insatiable.” You pant, sweat running down your body.

She whined.

“Get back inside.” She whimpered against the pillow with her ass up in the air. 

“Don’t be a brat baby.” You say gruffly slapping her ass before palming her ass cheeks.  

She whined. “Please keep going, don't stop.”

You slap her ass a few times before sheathing yourself deep inside of her.

“Yes, yes, oh Y/N, don’t stop! Don’t ever fucking stop.” She moaned, meeting your harsh thrusts. She could feel the tension in her shoulders begin to melt away when you held her back letting your hands massage her.

You felt Natasha reach below her body to massage her clit meeting your thrusts as you railed into her.

“You like that baby?” 

She groans in response, drooling on her pillow as her pussy convulses around you. You slap her ass at her lack of response. “Yes! Oh so much! So much. I’m so close.”

You began drilling your hips faster and faster against her favorite spot.

“Just like that! Just like that! Don’t stop! Don’t stop im so close! Im so close.”

You could feel your own release nearing. You grunted drilling faster and harder than before making your girlfriend speak in Russian begging for you to keep going.

“Oh fuck Nat this is it baby I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Let go baby, fill me up.” She spoke in her mother tongue. “I'm so ready.” you felt her convulse knowing she was near and so were you.

You groaned shooting ropes and ropes of your seed deep within her womb. “Fuck!” You both moaned loudly when the door opened. You were too busy twitching inside Natasha to see Maria walk inside with two syringes in her hands.

“Go to sleep.” Was the last thing you heard the woman say before you and Natasha pass out.

40 hours later

You and Natasha stirred awake at the same time.

“Good morning, gorgeous.” You grinned sleepily as you brought her over closer to you.

“Hmm, good morning my love.” She giggled feeling you pepper her face with kisses.

“It’s actually 9:30PM on a Tuesday evening.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. chimed in.

You and Nat look at one another with wide eyes as the sex marathon comes to mind.

“Would you like to hear a voice memo from Maria Hill?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. Asks.

“Yes.” You sighed.

“Natasha you were exposed to sex pollen which is why you two were having a sex marathon in the medbay which is destroyed by the way. I took you both off missions for the rest of the week. Rest up bitches.”

“The team is going to hold this over our heads for years.” Natasha groaned.

“…Eh…Worth it.” You shrugged, laughing when she smacked your chest before giggling herself. 

“You’re terrible.” 

“But you love me.” You shrug, smirking.

“I do.” She sighs snuggling into you. Her ass wiggling against your crotch.

“Watch it babe don’t start a fire you can’t put out.”

“My ass isn’t sore. Wanna make it sore?” She smirked looking back at you.

This woman was going to be the death of you.

[mrsharrington83]

Idiots in Love

REQUESTED – My asks are open if you have a request ^_^

Summary; (For the sake of this fic, Steve and Nancy never happened) Steve and reader being dumb and having moments of being iconic together. Since everyone knows that Steve isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, maybe he just needs another person to be as dumb as him or maybe he just needs someone else to match him mentally.

Words; 3.4k

warnings; swearing, usual stranger things, things, slight mention of drug use, blood and injury. not proof read.

A/N; thank you for all the requests! I apologise for taking so long getting through them all. i cant write a 0.5k-1.0k fic for the life of me at the minute! Its 2am for me now, but i really wanted to get this out!

Dustin said Steve was an idiot because he had too much hair on top of his head which left too much room for air. For you, Dustin said it was because you’d been around Steve for far too long.

Hawkins, Indiana, 1983.

School was a bore, you tried your hardest and whilst you did ace some classes, you also completely failed in others. Picking up extra tuition and getting help from anyone who would give it to you was a struggle. You didn’t like asking for help, it made you feel dumb, but more than that, it made you feel useless. Why did you struggle so much in certain classes and not in others?

You honestly thought it was from a fall you had as a child when you were learning how to ride a bike. Your father had stupidly taken off your stabiliser wheels and let you go on the hill of your childhood garden, right into a tree. Whilst you were fine overall, you did end up with a nasty bump on your head.

Not only were you not that smart academically, but you were also very accident-prone, which is how you met Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. You weren’t the most popular person in school, you had a small group of friends and that was enough for you. You didn’t want to be known by everyone. As you walked down the busy hall to your locker, hardly taking in your surroundings and paying attention, you slammed into someone’s back. Your extra tuition books and folders fell to the floor,

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going!” The person you slammed into turned around, Steve Harrington, one of the most popular, sought for guys in school looking down at you, “I- I” you stuttered and he smiled, placing his sunglasses on the top of his head, he always found your first meeting adorable, it was something the party had heard several times and not got bored of hearing it. The nervousness in your eyes, the way you pushed some of your hair back behind your ear. The way you bent down to get your books, just as he was doing the same. Your heads collided and bounced off each other, his glasses joining your books on the floor, thankfully not broken,

“Shit! Sorry!” It was Steve’s turn to apologise as he slipped his discarded glasses into his pocket and pulled all of your books and folders into his arms, standing quickly so as not to embarrass himself further, “are you okay?” you just laughed and nodded, taking the books from his arms as you thanked him. That was the start of yours twos budding romance.

Hawkins, Indiana, October, 1984

It was a constant source of amusement for the party, they couldn’t believe some of the stuff you and Steve came out with half the time and how you were both so in sync,

***

“Maybe if we set this on fire,” Mike stated as he looked toward all the drawings on the floor,

“Oh, yeah. That’s a no.” Steve bites back, shaking his head, throwing a tea towel over his shoulder as he leaned on one foot, hand on his hip,

“A double no at that,” you called back to scrambling kids who were already gathering supplies and pointing at drawings on the floor,

“The mind flayer would call away his army,”

“They’d all come to stop us,”

“We circle back to the exit,”

“Guys.” Steve interrupted the party as they carried on talking between themselves, rushing around, completely ignoring the two older people in the house,

“By the time they realise we’re gone-“

“El would be at the gate,”

“HEY, HEY, HEY, this is not happening!” You and Steve bellowed over the party as they stopped to look at the both of you, your arms falling around as Steve grabbed the tea towel from his shoulder, whipping the air,

“Do you two share the same brain cell?” Dustin looked towards you both,

“No!” you both shouted in unison again, looking towards each other before laughing, the kids joining you.

***

They were all ecstatic when they found out you were both dating, though they did have to push you both in the right direction, this whole thing was an unlikely friendship between people. The only reason you were involved with Dustin and his friends was because you babysat him whilst his mum was at work, this caused you to get involved with the disappearance of Will last year and in turn, with you being close to Steve. He was brought into the mix also.

It was so obvious to others, how you both felt about each other, but it wasn’t for you and Steve. After some coxing and words of wisdom from the younger party, as you called it. You and Steve were finally an item, though they didn’t find out until months later when Steve let it slip,

“Dustin, stop picking on my girlfriend, would you?” Steve looked up from his plate of food as he moved bacon around with his fork, leaning back against the dining room chair as he stretched,

“But she just- wait? What... girlfriend?” Dustin looked back and forth between you both, the pair of you looking confused, “you’re meant to tell us!” Steve carried on moving food around his plate as you took a bite of toast leaning against the counter,

“Tell you what?” you asked wiping the crumbs off your hands onto a discarded tea towel,

“Have you been listening to any of this conversation?!” Dustin questioned, “That you’re together! I can’t believe this! How long have you two been a thing?! Wait until the others find out about this!” You picked up your plate with half a slice of toast left and took a seat opposite Steve as Dustin still stood shocked, playing with his walkie,

Steve finished up his food and stood up to put his plate in the sink, he looked at the calendar furrowing his brows slightly at the small writing, “Like seven months? Right?” he looked back at you as you nodded, your mouth full of toast.

Dustin once again stood dumbfounded, his mouth visibly agape as he pressed a button on his walkie, “you are not going to believe this, guys.”

Hawkins, Indiana, June 1985

“Oh, this is ridiculous.” You smoothed out part of your Scoops uniform that was now creased and bloody from your split lip and Steve’s as he was continuously hunching over you in a Russian loading car trying to gather his senses and not be knocked from pillar to post by Dustin’s driving up front, laughter bubbling in your throat, the situation was anything, but funny. All three of you (Steve, Y/N, and Robin) had been interrogated to the max, but once they found out there was a tie between you and Steve, they took advantage of that.

***

“Who do you work for?” the guard got down into your face once more, holding the arms of the chair you were tied to, his eyes glaring into your own,

“How many times do I have to tell you I work for Scoops Ahoy? I scoop ice cream for a living!” you cried out as you earned another slap across your already throbbing jaw. Steve was tied up behind you already passed out, they’d done a number on him and all you wanted to do was get out of this place and tend to his injuries, he didn’t deserve any of this. Robin was tied to the corner of the room having to witness her two new best friends being treated like this.

The Russian guard got in your face once more, “it looks like your friend here needs a doctor. Just as well we have the very best.” A smirk across his face made you see red, and without thinking you spat at him. A slight tinge of blood from your split lip was dripping down your chin, staining the collar of your uniform, “you’re going to regret that little one.” With that he muttered something else in Russian before leaving the room with the other guards, leaving you three on your own once more, but not without Robin calling them all bastards and yelling to let you all out of there.

“Steve?” you called gently as Robin tried to manoeuvre her arms from her binds to no avail. Unlike you two, she was tied to a bench so she couldn’t do much whilst she was bound up. Steve started to stir, pain evident in the way he groaned, “oh thank god... are you okay?” you asked quietly not wanting to be too loud,

“Ears are ringing, I can barely breathe and, my eye feels like it’s about to pop out of my skull, but apart from that I’m doing pretty good.” His voice was laced with pain and sarcasm.

***

You were pulled out of your thoughts as you came to an abrupt end, all three of you hitting already pained parts of your body as Dustin crashed into something,

“You guys alright back there?” Dustin asked as he looked to Erica with a slight shrug, “They’re fine, come on. Let’s go.” Dustin hurried out and opened the back of the loading car, hurrying you all out. Time was of the essence after all. This definitely made him think about how he acted sometimes, it was a handful and the fact you and Steve cared for him and all of his friends ample times made him furrow his brow slightly, not that he would change after they got out of this mess, he had an excuse, he was still younger than you.

 “Guys! Come on!” Dustin bellowed as he huffed in annoyance, slapping his wrist, and ushering everyone into the elevator.

“Oh my god! A skateboard!” you screamed out in joy, jumping on a red platform truck as Dustin got to work pressing buttons and hoping for the best, once the elevator started to move, you started to struggle. Steve grabbed hold of the platform truck to stop it from moving too much,

“It looks like you're surfing!” Robin pointed at you as Dustin and Erica glanced at each other quite clearly done with your shit.

“They look drunk,” Erica stated, all of you now splayed on the floor talking about food, “why are they drunk, or drugged?” she questioned as Dustin felt Steve’s forehead,

“He’s burning up,” Dustin spoke to Erica alarmed,

“You’re burning up” Steve bit back, trying to push Dustin away with his hand whilst you and Robin laughed at the ceiling,

 “Eyes are bloodshot, pupils dilated, Steve,” Dustin pat his cheek lightly, “are you drugged?”

“How many times, Dad? I don’t do drugs. It’s only marijuana.” Steve poked Dustin’s cheek and started laughing again as you and Robin shot up,

“you have marijuana?!” you crawled over to Steve and laid next to him, “gimme!” more laughs erupted from the three of you as Dustin and Erica watched on, wondering what the hell they were going to do to get you all out of this mess in one piece.

Getting you all back to the mall safely was a lot harder than Dustin could have imagined, Robin was picking at her uniform whilst tripping up over thin air whilst you and Steve were trailing behind humming and drumming the air to Simple Minds- Don’t You (Forget About Me) a song that had been on the radio continuously for the past month- a song Dustin thought you were both getting annoyed with as it came on the radio hours before you were in this mess and you were both scrambling with the radio to turn it off with rushed words of, fuck sake, turn it off, not this again, if I hear this song one more time I swear,

“Don’t you, forget about me.”

“Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t.”

“Don’t you, forget about me.”

Keeping you all hidden from the Russians was a lot harder than it could have been, with you three wanting food, and then trying to separate to find food, Dustin thought of a quick solution and got you all into the movie theatre but not before Steve reached into the bin to pull out a bag of discarded popcorn,

“You three sit.” Dustin pointed at the three vacant chairs as you all complained about being too close, and how the seats sucked. “Well then don’t watch the movie!”

“But we want to watch the movie!” Robin exclaimed as other people around you started to get agitated,

“Then watch it!” Dustin apologised to other people trying to shush you all, changing his tone to a hushed annoyed whisper, “Whatever you do. Don’t... go... anywhere.”

“Fine, Dad.” Steve perked up shaking his shoulders slightly as you and Robin snickered, taking handfuls of popcorn and shoving it in your mouth.

“That settles it,” Dustin huffed, “I'm never having kids." The pair sat down a few seats away, keeping their eyes off you trying to fetch up a plan.

Once they both realised you three had left the movie theatre, Dustin let out an audible sigh from his chest, this day, was not it.

“So, like, I wasn’t totally focused in there or anything, but... I’m pretty sure...that mum was trying to bang her son.” Robin leaned against the wall as you and Steve took turns drinking water from the fountain,

“But they’re the same age.” you stopped drinking and looked towards Robin,

“No, but he went back in time.” Robin looked up to the ceiling, balancing on one foot and then the other,

“Then why is it called back to the future?” Steve asked confused as he stopped drinking, letting Robin get to the fountain.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” you stated “Back means past so how could he be travelling back to something that hasn’t even happened yet?” you questioned Robin, Steve looking at you doe-eyed, completely agreeing with you,

“He has to go back to the future because he’s in the past, so, the future is actually the present, which is his time” Robin added as you looked confused,

“wh...What?” you and Steve looked at each other astonished before you both got distracted by the ceiling lights, dizziness, and churning in your stomach had you all rushing to the toilet, bringing up everything that happened in the day.

“Well that was no fun,” your voice was harsh, your throat sore as you leaned back against the cold wall of the cubical, no longer dizzy, everything still, the walls no longer moving around you, “Back to the Future though, I can’t get over that.”

***

Hawkins, Indiana, March 1986

Walking into the creel house was way more disturbing than it looked outside, creaking floorboards, furnishings covered in dust and cobwebs, completely derelict, wherever you stood, something creaked.

Lucas went to check on a small lamp for some light, probably to take the edge off an already eerie situation, “looks like someone forgot to pay their electric bill.” He stated as Dustin turned on his flashlight, you and Steve stood behind him glancing back and forth to each other,

“Where’d everyone get those?” Steve asked noticing that everyone had one except you and him.

Dustin looked back at the both of you as if to say unbelievable, “Do you two need to be told everything? You’re not children.”

“Thank you.” You said under your breath a little, huffing as Dustin took his backpack off,

“Back pocket.” He was used to you both forgetting things like that, you were both usually good with weapons and things you might need, and everything you didn’t, but never flashlights. You really did need to be told.

Max pointed out a big grandfather clock, hoping that everyone else could see it taking you away from looking at the scattered furniture,

“Why is this wizard obsessed with clocks?” you asked looking at the hands that were still,

“Maybe he’s, like, a clockmaker or something?” Steve said next to you, as you pursed your lips actually thinking about it,

"I think you cracked the case, Steve.” Dustin chimed in, shaking his head in disapproval as you watched on, nudging Dustin slightly. Nancy told everyone to go in groups of two leaving you, Steve and a smiling Dustin. Steve let out a sigh and walked off signalling you to follow, “Was that a sigh?”

“No, I did not sigh.”

“Why’d you sigh?”

“I didn’t sigh. Just come on, dude.”

“I heard you.”

“We were just always partnered up with you, okay?”

“You have a problem with that?”

“It’d just be nice to, I don’t know, mix it up a bit.”

You continued to walk the stairs, creaking with every other step, as Dustin hurried up behind you, the pair of them starting to bicker a bit, a usual occurrence, “I’m boring to you? Is that it?”

“No it’s the opposite,” Steve added as he moved his (Dustin’s) flashlight around careful not to knock anything off the walls,

“Maybe me and Y/N should partner up and you go around this creepy house alone, is that what you want?” Dustin asked as Steve shot his head around almost tumbling back down the stairs,

“No! I don’t want that, sorry man.” Steve moved his hair that had fallen a little flat huffing once more. “We do make a good team, The Three Musketeers and all that.” You smiled at Steve’s remark, it was a book you both had to read when you were at school, though boring at the time, the lessons you learned from the book stayed with you. Chivalry, honour, heroics, and willingness. It was true. You, Steve, and Dustin probably had spent the most time together because even though you could both be a bit daft from time to time, you were both reliable and trustworthy with any problem Dustin had, even if that meant issues outside of the upside down. You both never found anything that Dustin had to say daft.

“Hey, uh, Henderson?” Steve asked, looking at the cobwebs that littered the place, “could you maybe, uh, clarify what sort of clues we’re supposed to be looking for here?”

“I second that,” you cut in,

“The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes.” Dustin looked back at the both of you smiling, “Sherlock Holmes.” Seeing you both confused he huffed sincerely.

“That’s great. Thanks. That’s great. Really helpful” You huffed and shook your head, feeling dumb as Steve placed a hand on your shoulder, rubbing his thumb slowly, a knowing glance only the both of you understood.

“You're not stupid, not to me anyway.” Steve smiled as a small laugh escaped your lips a small vent in the floor catching your eyeline as you walked over to it, “Y/N, let me.” Steve crouched down in front of you lifting the metal from the floor, jars of preserved insects had you grimacing before Steve shot up alarmed, shaking his arm and flailing his hand to get a spider off, both of you clumsily falling through cobwebs and the door, into Nancy,

“Hey, hey, both of you, stay still. Stop moving.” She took time to rid you both of cobwebs as she lightly dusted dust off your arm, you and Steve then looking over each other,

“It was a black widow.” Steve lets out a breath of air, calmer than he was before, “Don’t go in there.” He shut the door adverting his attention back to you, moving a stray piece of your hair behind your ear, kissing your nose lightly. “So uh, Nance. Maybe after we find Vecna, kill him, save the world, and stuff. Maybe we can all go out. You know? Me, Y/N, you, Jonathan, when he’s back.”

“I’d love to.” Nancy looked at you both endearingly, she was glad you both had each other. Everyone needed someone. She knew you both back in school, but never really spoke to either of you. She was too wrapped up in perfecting her grades, reading the next book on the shelf, but she was so thankful to be in your lives now.

Steve was finally with someone he could be himself around without feeling bad or awkward, even in this messed up world the both of you bounced off each other as though it were effortless. Although you were sometimes the biggest idiots, you were the biggest idiots in love.

[strangersteddierthings]

Hey @rustypeopleskillz! I had a lot of fun writing a Jealous!Steve fic, especially since he didn't really understand why he was jealous. I hope you like it!

Here's a little worldbuilding. This takes place in the summer of '87. Jonathan, Nancy and Robin are all in college but have returned to Hawkins for the summer. Argyle has come to visit, too. Robin has resumed her position at Family Video as a summer job.

Written for the @steddiesummerexchange.

-

June 12, 1987

It’s already hot this early in June, and Steve is grateful for the working AC at Family Video. And speaking of Family Video, that reminds Steve.

"You coming over for movies tomorrow?" Steve asks, even though he knows the answer. It's more a formality at this point. They have movie night pretty regularly, Eddie, Robin and himself, now that Robin’s back in town from college. Occasionally they’ll be joined by others, the kids or Jonathan, Nancy, and Argyle (always together when they join) but movie night always includes himself, Robin and Eddie.

"Oh, uh, no," Eddie answers, sounding just as surprised by his answer as Steve feels.

"What? Why?" Steve's questions come out accusatory. Eddie's always free for movie night. Hellfire is on Sundays now, and Corroded Coffin meets on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Friday nights have been saved for Steve. Or, well, not Steve but for movie night!

“What are you, the police?” Eddie snorts. He doesn’t answer the questions.

Before Steve can comment on that avoidance, a quiet voice calls out an ‘excuse me’ and Steve has to turn to the register to get back to work. From the corner of his eye, he watches Eddie push off the counter and head towards the back corner of Family Video, where Robin is currently shelving the last of the returns.

The quiet voice that interrupted belongs to a kid, probably Holly’s age, wanting to rent Snow White. Easy enough to ring up, and soon enough the kid’s out the door, heading towards the car parked directly in front of the doors. Steve looks back over his shoulder in the direction Eddie’d gone. Neither he or Robin is visible, so they’re probably caught up in conversation.

Good. Gives Steve some time to think about why he was going to give Eddie the third degree about not making it to movie night. There have been a few times that Eddie didn’t come to movie night before; it’s not like this is the first time it’s happened. All those other times, though, Eddie had told him why. Eddie doesn’t owe him a why, and really Steve has no reason to demand one of him. Steve’s not his keeper.

It just… rubs Steve the wrong way. He doesn’t know why.

When Eddie and Robin rejoin him at the counter, Steve doesn’t bring up movie night again. It’ll still be fun with just Robin. It’s Robin! How can he not have fun with she’s around?

Eddie stays around another half hour before he says he has to go. Once Eddie is backing out of the parking spot, he whips to Robin to ask, “You’re still coming to movie night, right?”

“Duh,” Robin says, looking up from the stack of returns she’s been pretending to process, “unless I’ve got a hot date, and that’s not happening anytime soon, why would I miss it?”

“It could happen, if you’d shoot your shot wi-”

“No. Nope. Not today!” Robin cuts him off with a glare.

He lifts his hands to show he’s defenseless and drops that particular subject for a moment. He’ll have the whole movie night to harass her about her crushes. “Okay, alright. Touchy.”

“Oh, like you were with Eddie about movie night?”

“What, did he immediately go tattle on me!?” Steve says, scandalized. There’s no loyalty here.

“No, but I did hear your immediate grilling of Eddie. You weren’t exactly whispering, and this place is, like, the size of your living room-”

“It is not.”

“-so, no. Eddie did not tattle. He did, however, share what happened the second I asked ‘what was that all about’, so do with that what you will.”

“Oh,” Steve frowns. “Well, did Eddie tell you why he’s not coming?”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to the returns. “No. I didn’t ask because I am not particularly bothered that he can’t make it to one movie night.”

Steve frowns harder. He’s not bothered. Why would he be bothered that Eddie has something else he has to do? Steve’s not his keeper. It’s fine.

Except for how Steve can’t shake the feeling that it’s not fine. He feels some sort of way about it but can’t name it. Definitely a negative feeling of some kind. Maybe worry? Sadness? He’s not sure, but he doesn’t like it.

He doesn’t bring it up the rest of their shift, though, because he knows Robin will ask why this is bothering him so much and Steve won’t have an answer.

June 16, 1987

Steve doesn’t see Eddie again for four days, which Steve thought wasn’t unusual for them. They aren’t attached at the hip friends. That privelege is reserved for Robin. Except now that Steve is thinking about it, he realizes that the only person he sees on the regular besides Robin is Eddie.

Eddie usually comes and spends a majority of his afternoons at Family Video, or he’s hanging out with Steve and Robin at Steve’s house, or inviting them to his for hangouts. Steve and Eddie even hang out alone often enough. Steve will crash at his place after a late night smoke sesh or Eddie will stay with him when the nightmares get too much to deal with alone.

Now that he’s realized how much of his time was taken up with Eddie, he notices how absent Eddie’s been. He can’t even talk about this with Robin because he doesn’t get why he even wants to talk about it! Why it matters so much.

Even back when Steve’s best friends were Tommy and Carol, he’s never felt like this after not seeing either of them for days at a time, and they used to be as attached to each other as he is with Robin now. He doesn’t know what that says about him. Was his friendship with them really that shallow? Or is his friendship with Eddie just that deep?

That seems like the right idea. Eddie went through hell with him and the kids, died for them, and Steve brought him back. It’s not that his previous friendships were shallow, they just weren’t forged the same way.

So, it takes four days for Steve to see Eddie again, and it’s because Steve seeks him out. He couldn’t just pop in, though, because he’s overthought this too much. Even though no one but himself knows the thoughts Steve’s been having, he still feels an embarrassment for them. Which is stupid, he knows, but it doesn’t stop the feeling.

Four days he waits before deciding to check in on Max. See how she’s doing, if she needs a lift to the grocery store or something. A habit formed because her mom is trying to be better, has been since Max was hospitalized, but Susan’s still working two jobs and it doesn’t leave a lot of time to get to the store during the hours it’s open. Steve offered to take Max once, and now it’s an unspoken agreement.

Before knocking on Max’s door, though, he looks down the road to make sure Eddie’s van is parked in its usual spot and it is.

He checks on Max, knowing she doesn’t need anything because Susan did have time to get to the grocery store this week. He knows because he ran into her there yesterday, and thought up this whole convoluted excuse so he can check in on Eddie without seeming like that’s what he’s doing.

Steve is not proud about this. That embarrassed feeling ever present, even now that he’s checked on Max and been quickly shooed away because El is over and they’re having a girls day.

Maybe he should talk to Robin about this. Why is he embarrassed by missing Eddie?

The thought causes him to skip a step as he heads down the road to the Munsons’ new place, which is up the road in the opposite direction of the old Munson trailer from Max’s home.

Oh. He’s missed Eddie, and he’s embarrassed that he’s missed him. Why hadn’t he known that until now?

He really is going to need to talk to Robin after this.

The Munson’s are still in the process of building the porch for this new trailer; it’s just a frame that stretches from the stairs to the end of trailer. It looks like they’re doing everything they can to make this place look like their old one. Or, maybe, they just really like having a porch.

He should ask Wayne if he wants help finishing it next time he sees him.

Steve knocks on the door with three quick raps and doesn’t have to wait long.

The door swings open to reveal Eddie. His hair is pulled up off his neck, which is a familiar look on Eddie by now with the hot Indiana summer.

“Oh!” Eddie looks surprised. “Hey Steve. What brings you here?”

“I was just checking in on Max, and saw your van was here. Thought I’d stop in and say hi.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side and studies Steve for a moment. “Well, if you don’t have anywhere else to be, you wanna hang out for a bit?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, possibly to quickly. “I mean, I got time.”

Eddie grins and steps back, out of the doorway so he can enter. Steve toes off his shoes as Eddie breezes past him and to the couch. He must have been watching something on TV because he usually shuts himself away in his room with all his things. (Steve called him a hoarder once and Eddie’d said that just makes him a dragon. At Steve’s blank look, Eddie’d explained that dragons have hoards, typically gold, but that was ‘a bit too rich’ for his blood.)

“What’re we watching?” Steve asks, plopping himself next to Eddie, angled slightly more towards Eddie than the TV.

“I was watching Fire and Ice, but I’m like halfway through. We can find something else.”

“Have you seen it before?” Steve asks, looking at the scene paused on the TV currently. Some animated thing, which is unsurprising. Eddie made him watch an animated Lord of the Rings when Steve gave up on reading the books, and The Black Cauldron just a few weeks ago. Eddie seemed to like animation as much as horror and thriller.

“Several times,” Eddie says. “I own it.”

“Then just tell me what’s happened so far, and the names of people on screen when they appear and I’ll figure it out. Or I won’t,” he adds with a shrug, unbothered about understanding what was happening. If the movie ends up being important enough to Eddie, he’ll see if they have it at Family Video to see the whole thing. Or maybe ask Eddie to invite him over next time he watches.

Eddie laughs and reaches for the remote. He just holds onto it as he explains, “there’s two kingdoms. One of ice, and one of fire. The ice people are evil, the fire ones good. Ice people kidnapped the fire princess, and, uh, the guy in a loincloth is out to save her. Currently he’s stowed away on her brother’s ship as he’s also on the way to save her.”

Ah. Alright. A classic Eddie movie. Fantasy. Magic. A hero, and someone needing saved. Steve nods and waves his hand at the TV in a ‘let’s get on with it’ motion. He’s rewarded with a smile from Eddie before he presses play and settles into the couch.

He watches Eddie much more than he watches the movie. Steve does this most times they watch movies together. He lifts an arm to the back of the couch, bending at the elbow to make a place to place his head, and lounges there. He can see the TV and Eddie’s profile from this position but he ends up watching Eddie’s profile more than the TV.

Eddie’s expressive. Eyebrows going up, mouth opening in shock. Brows furrowing, a scowl when he thinks someone has done something stupid, or a character he hates has come on screen. Laugh lines that come into view. It’s a whole show itself, watching Eddie.

Steve’s got no clue how the movie goes but he watches the very end, if only because he knows as soon as the credits start that Eddie will turn to him for his opinion, and Steve doesn’t want to get caught watching Eddie instead of the movie.

Which is a completely normal thing to worry about.

Perfectly on queue, Eddie turns to him, “so, what did you think?”

Steve turns his own head slowly from the screen to Eddie, takes in his expression. Anticipation for the answer, but Steve thinks Eddie knows that Steve wasn’t paying attention because he looks amused, like he’s asked a trick question. “I think I need to watch it from the beginning.”

Eddie laughs at that, so Steve does, too. They fall into easy conversation after that, chatting for another hour or so until it’s dark and Steve has to leave because he opens tomorrow.

Heading to the door, Steve spots a new leather jacket handing from the little coat rack he’d helped Eddie mount on the wall when the Munsons moved into their new place. He knows the jacket is new, to Eddie anyway, because where the zipper on the sleeve is broken and held together with a chain on Eddie’s old one, this on has a button closure instead.

“Hey, new jacket!” Steve grabs the sleeve, pulling at so he can take a look at the front. Leather jackets aren’t Steve’s style, but he can tell this one looks real nice.

“Oh. No, that’s not mine,” Eddie says. “Jack forgot it in my room, and we know it’ll never see the light of day again if I’d left it there.”

Steve just blinks. “Jack? Who is Jack?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, ushering Steve out the door. “You’re not my only friend, Steve.”

“I know all your other friends,” Steve says dumbly. “Gareth, and Jeff, and Frankie.”

He sees the spark of mischief in Eddie’s eyes before the shit eating grin spreads across his face and he lifts his hands in a ‘what can I say?’ sort of shrug before he says, “Well, you don’t know Jack then.”

Steve groans and Eddie cackles.

June 25, 1987

It takes Steve a few more days and an evening shift with Robin that leads to a sleepover to realize why he can’t stop thinking about the stupid leather jacket hanging up at Eddie’s.

“Okay dingus, what is it?” Robin asks as she locks the front door behind them before toeing her shoes off. Steve is bent down, untying his shoes because he’s not a heathen, so he looks up at her, confusion on his face.

“What is what?”

Robin rolls her eyes like he’s an idiot and puts one hand on her hip to look down at him. “Whatever it is that has you sighing wistfully every five minutes.”

“I am not sighing wistfully,” Steve argues because he’s not. He would know if he was sighing and he’s not. Except as soon as he looks back down at his shoes he does let out a sigh. Shit. Robin’s right. “Okay, guess I am. I just… didn’t know that I was.”

“Well, what’s causing it?”

Steve hesitates, not because he doesn’t want to talk it out with Robin but because he doesn’t know how. “I don’t know.”

“You’ll tell me when you do know?”

“Yeah.”

Their night continues like usual. Steve turns on the radio for background noise, Robin raids his kitchen for snacks, and they lay on the floor in the living room. They complain about the rude customers they dealt with and gossip about the others. Conversation stays light and all the while, Steve is in the back of his mind thinking about that stupid jacket.

“Hey Robs,” Steve says after a quiet has fallen over them. “Did you know Eddie has a friend named Jack?”

“No,” Robin says easily. And Steve supposes it should be an easy thing, to accept that your friend has friends you don’t also have. “Why?”

“He left a jacket at Eddie’s place,” Steve says slowly, still gathering his thoughts. “It was a nice jacket.”

“Uh huh,” Robin agrees, tilting her head a bit to the side, watching him.

“I saw the jacket and thought it was Eddie’s. A new one. But he told me it was Jack’s, and I-I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. Or him. Jack. Do you think Jack’s the reason Eddie ditched movie night?”

Robin has the audacity to laugh at him. Just one quick bark of a laugh before she’s covering her mouth with both hands to hold it in. Steve glares at her but she doesn’t even look remorseful for laughing at his problems. Once she’s successfully swallowed her laughter, Robin says, “So, still hung up on that?”

“Robin, I’m being serious right now!”

“About what Steve? You like a jacket that you can’t steal from Eddie because it doesn’t belong to him?”

“No! That Eddie’s got a secret friend who leaves stuff in his room and I’m-” Steve clamps his mouth shut, the unspoken words ringing in his head.

“Oh my God, you’re jealous!” Robin says with too much glee for a woman saying the unspoken bit out loud.

Steve huffs, rolling over onto his stomach to hide his face in his arms. To the carpet he says, “I don’t even know why! I’m not jealous of Eddie’s other friends. Just…”

“Just the one dude you don’t know?”

Steve wants to shrink in on himself but that’s harder to do on the floor than it is curled up on the couch. He settles to tightening his arms around his head. “This is stupid.”

“Yeah, a little,” Robin says lightly, “but Eddie’s your best guy friend and you aren’t used to sharing, spoiled little rich kid that you are.”

“I can share just fine!”

“Not your friends.”

He turns his head, popping out of where he’s hidden to glare at her. “That is not true!”

Robin’s laughing again. “It is! You can’t share friends! You’re only okay with Dustin having other friends because he already had them before being your friend. Same with Eddie and his other friends. But try and bring a new friend in? Nope. Jealousy strikes.”

“That’s- I’m not- I don’t care if other people gets friends that aren’t me.”

She laughs louder before rolling onto her side to look at Steve. “You do to! You were the same way with Tommy and Carol.”

He wants to argue, but really, he doesn’t have an argument. He can’t remember Tommy or Carol trying to bring new friends into their group in school, but also, they’d all gone to the same elementary, middle, and high school. They’d established friendships and cliques early on and at the end of the day, Tommy and Carol had other friends but Steve was their friend and everyone knew it.

Huh.

Maybe he does have a problem with sharing.

“This doesn’t feel the same. I was never- it didn’t feel like this with Tommy and Carol.”

That sobers Robin a little. The laughter drops from her voice when she asks, “well, what does it feel like?”

Steve frowns. “I don’t know. Like… like I’ll lose Eddie.”

“That’s silly,” Robin says, shifting to sit up, cross-legged. “Even if Jack is Eddie’s new best friend, he’ll never have the same bond we all have. You won’t lose Eddie.”

No. He won’t. Robin’s right. The horrors of the Upside Down will forever connect them. This thing that they all will only ever have each other to relate to. But this doesn’t feel like the fear of just losing a friend. It’s something else, but Steve can’t pin down the feeling.

“Yeah,” he agrees, because Robin isn’t wrong. “It is a bit silly.”

July 11, 1987

Steve meets Jack two weeks later. Well, everyone meets Jack two weeks later because in an effort to beat the heat, Dustin showed up in his swim trunks, interrupting Steve and Robin’s first full day off together in weeks, and an hour later Steve’s found himself hosting an impromptu swim party, complete with burgers and hot dogs that Steve ends up in charge of grilling like he’s some dad on the Fourth of July.

(Or, as Robin is apt to remind him, it’s his house and his grill and does he really want to put anyone else in charge of working something with an open flame? Which, no. No he does not.)

Dustin had called and invited the rest of the Party. Will shows up with El, Jonathan, and Argyle. Mike gets a ride from Nancy, who sees what’s happening and asks if it’s okay she crashes the party, too. (Apparently Mike had told her Party Members Only, but once it’s made clear anyone is welcome, Nancy leaves and returns with her swimsuit and several side dishes.)

Max gets a ride from Eddie.

Eddie walks her to the back, “just sayin’ hi.”

“You can stay,” Steve immediately says.

“I got the guys with me,” Eddie says, gesturing vaguely with his hand towards the front of the house.

“No problem. The more, the merrier or whatever,” Steve says, making a circle in the air with his scrubby as he speaks. “I don’t have enough swim trunks for everyone, though.”

Eddie smiles, big and bright and Steve can’t help returning it. “Alright. Awesome. I’ll go ask ‘em if they don’t mind crashing a party.”

Steve hears the answer as Eddie’s van goes quiet instead of the sound of crunching gravel as he leaves, and soon enough all of Corroded Coffin is filing into the backyard along with an unknown dude jammed in the middle of them, chatting with Jeff. Steve knows immediately that Unknown Dude is Jack because he recognizes the leather jacket he’s wearing.

Who wears their leather jacket in the middle of summer?

(Nevermind that Eddie does occasionally. Eddie’s not wearing his right now, though. No, he’s in denim shorts that Steve just knows in his heart where once full jeans and a Judas Priest tank top. The standard summer uniform for him, Steve’s come to know.)

The new group makes the rounds, introducing Jack to everyone as Steve watches from behind the grill. He’s not cooking yet; the grill needed a good cleaning first because it hasn’t been used in God only knows how long.

Jack’s got dirty blonde hair, a length to rival Eddie’s, but pin straight as Steve’s own hair. He’s not a bad looking dude by any means, which Steve feels some sort of way about. Angry, maybe? He’s wearing black jeans, some sort of graphic tee, the stupid leather jacket, and combat boots. Steve can see he wears more rings than Eddie does. It’s entirely too hot to be dressed this way but Jack looks unphased by the heat. Jack doesn’t pass for Eddie’s twin in any way, but they certainly match.

(Steve hates how easily Jack matches Eddie’s aesthetic. He takes in his own Hawaiian printed swim trunks and yellow polo, looking every bit like a Sears catalogue Summer Edition and sticking out amongst all of Eddie’s friends, and everyone else really, for it. (He’d bought both the shirt and swim trunks at Sears, actually, because Robin had pointed out how very ‘him’ them seemed and, well, she wasn’t wrong.))

The grill is now clean and he’s lighting the charcoal by the time the get to him. They’ve lost Gareth to the pool, who took of his shirt, socks, and shoes, and jumped in wearing his jeans, and Frankie to a conversation with Jonathan and Argyle, so it’s just Eddie, Jeff, and Jack who arrive at the grill.

“And this is our glorious and generous host, Steve Harrington,” Eddie says once they come to a stop next to him.

“Hey. I’m Jack Williams,” Jack grins, offering up a hand to shake. Steve takes it and gives it one shake, exactly how his dad taught him to do when meeting business partners. Firm and formal, friendly but distant.

“Nice to meet you,” Steve says because it’s expected for him to say even though he doesn’t think he finds meeting Jack all that nice.

Jack appraises him, then. Jack stands in silence for a moment and he flicks his eyes down, taking in the whole of Steve’s appearance before eyes -blue, Steve sees now that he’s close enough to make out such details- flit about his face. It makes Steve feel like Jack is sizing him up. “I thought thee Steve Harrington would be taller.”

Eddie’s hand swings out, smacking Jack hard on his arm before Steve can even so much as bristle at that. “Dude!”

“I’m just joking!” Jack laugh and Steve hates it. It’s a stupid laugh. “Sorry, Steve. It’s just with all I’ve heard about you I thought I’d be meeting God himself or something.”

Oh. Well. Maybe it’s not that stupid of a laugh. “Really?”

“You have to know you’re Eddie’s favorite subje-” Jack doesn’t get to finish that sentence because Eddie attacks him and Steve has to shoo them away for fear their wrestling will knock over the grill.

Steve doesn’t even get a chance to ask how Eddie and Jack met before Robin’s appearing with the burgers and hot dogs. It’s fine. He’ll ask later. He might not even need to know. It settles something inside him to know that Jack knows about him. That Eddie talks about him to Jack enough for Jack to have constructed a version of Steve in his own head.

He think he’s finally made peace with whatever was going on in his head involving Eddie and Jack’s friendship when he catches the moment that makes his stomach drop.

It’s later in the day, moving onto evening. Everyone is out of the pool but still lounging around it. Steve finally been allowed to remove himself from behind the grill because everyone’s full and they’re out of burgers anyway. Steve is coming back outside, having gone in to grab himself, Eddie and Jack a beer each.

He doesn’t catch what Jack said. Just Eddie’s reaction to it. A reaction he’s never seen Eddie give anyone but him.

Eddie’s face pinkens and he drags a lock of hair in front of his face to hide his immediate smile, only releasing the strand once he’s got his smile under control, wrestled into a closed mouth grin that does nothing to hide his joy. And then. Then Eddie’s face does something Steve has seen a thousand times, but never at this angle. Never at this distance.

Maybe it’s because it’s from this distance and angle that Steve’s able to really see it.

Eddie looks smitten. Infatuated. Lovesick.

Steve feels his stomach drop and his first thought is ‘I’m too late’ which is instantly followed by ‘wait, what? Late for what?’

Forget stomach dropping. Steve feels like the whole floor has dropped out from beneath him and suddenly he can’t be here anymore. Can’t be surrounded by all these people who know him too well. If they look at him, if anyone see him, they’ll know. They’ll know what Steve’s just figured out from one second to the next and he can’t- he can’t deal with that.

Somehow he forces his legs to move. It’s like he’s outside his own body as he approaches Eddie and Jack. He hands over the beers he grabbed them and makes some excuse to go back inside. He’s vaguely aware that Eddie takes a single step towards Steve, as if to follow, but Jack stops him with a single brush of the back of his hand to the top of Eddie’s arm and Steve books it.

He’s such an idiot.

His feelings from earlier, from when he was talking to Robin, just click into place. Of course it didn’t feel like the fear of losing a friend.

It feels like how he felt when he realized Nancy had feelings for Jonathan instead of him anymore.

Heartbreak.

Robin finds him on the floor on his bedroom sometime he couldn’t quantify later, wedged between his bed and the wall, still clutching a now room temperature beer can.

“You okay Steve? Been in here a while,” Robin asks in a tone of voice that suggests she knows he’s very much not okay but will let him pretend to be right now if that’s what he needs.

He loves her for it.

“I hate Jack,” Steve says, quiet and flat.

Robin makes a humming noise as she settles on the floor in front of him on her knees.

“I hate Jack because Eddie likes him.”

“Well, we did already discuss your inability to share friends.”

“No. Robin,” Steve says, voice taking on a pleading tone. Begging her to understand without him having to say it. “I hate Jack because Eddie likes him. Eddie likes him, and I think he used to like me the same way, and I hate Jack.”

Robin’s brows furrow before springing up to her hairline. “Oh. Oh! Steve, oh…” and then she’s grabbing for him, tugging and pulling and adjusting until she’s got him in her arms and half in her lap. They don’t say anything else for a while. Robin runs her hands through his hair and Steve clings to her like a child.

Robin leaves briefly to let everyone know Steve’s not feeling good and to lock up behind them when they go.

July 21, 1987

All in all, Steve handles his gay crisis like a champ. Or so says Robin. It’s easier than he thought it would be. He’s had time to process that being queer isn’t wrong, what with having Robin, Eddie, and Will all out to their group and he’s always been good at adjusting to change.

What Steve is handling with considerable less grace (so says Robin) is the pining. His crisis quickly evolved from oh my God I want to kiss a boy to oh my God I’ve missed my chance to kiss Eddie and Robin keeps rolling her eyes about it. Which is rude. She’s being rude.

Even if Steve is driving Robin up a wall with his moping.

“Just tell Eddie you want to kiss him,” she hisses under her breath to his during the overlap of their shifts. She opened and he has to close, but from 4-7 they work together. The store is currently empty, with it being a Tuesday and therefore a slower day. “You’ve never had an issue asking someone out before. You did it all summer at Scoops even though all you did was get rejected! And all last years here, and you didn’t get rejected.”

“This is different!”

“Pretty sure asking out a boy isn’t all that different from asking a girl. There’s only so many ways you can say ‘wanna go to dinner and a movie with me’, y’know?”

Steve groans and drops his head onto the counter by the register. “That’s not what I meant, Robs.”

Robin lets out a world weary sigh and he hears her leaning herself against the counter on the customer side in front of him more than he sees it. “Enlighten me then. What makes this different?”

“Other than you, I’ve never asked out a friend before. And honestly, if I hadn’t still been a little under the effects of whatever we were drugged with, I wouldn’t have. There’s, like, something to actually lose if a friend says no,” Steve mumbles into the countertop.

“Well, Eddie’s not going to say no, but, like, even if he did, he’s not going to stop being your friend,” Robin says and he feels her hand on his shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

It’s Steve’s turn to heave a sigh. She’s not wrong. If Eddie’s still into Steve, and Steve’s not convinced he is, then it’ll be the easiest date Steve’s ever set. He asks, Eddie says yes, they go on to live happily ever after or something. What Steve’s more afraid of, the option he thinks it more likely, is that Eddie’s over pining after Straight Steve Harrington and has moved on to Jack of Unknown Sexual Orientation and if Steve asks Eddie out, to dinner and a movie or to the fair at the end of the week or whatever, Eddie will tell him ‘sorry but no. I used to like you but you took too long to catch on and I’m over it now. We can still be friends though’ and Steve will have to say ‘oh, yeah, no of course. Friends is great. Love being just friends’. Then they’ll both avoid each other, Steve to nurse his broken heart and Eddie because that’s just what you do when someone confesses they like you but you don’t feel the same because no matter what anyone says that’s awkward and you’re left feeling a little bit like an asshole for rejecting someone and-

“-eve! Dingus!”

Steve pops up off the counter, pulling himself from his thoughts. “What?”

The look Robin levels him with his decidedly unimpressed. “Whatever you were just imagining isn’t going to happen.”

“You don’t know what I-”

“I know we haven’t actually melded into a single person, but we are the closest thing a pair of humans can get to it. I don’t need to know exactly what you were imagining to know you’re wrong.”

Steve frowns. “What if I’m not?”

“What if you are?” Robin shoves off the counter. “We can have this conversation all day until we’re blue in the face. How about this. You don’t have to ask Eddie out, but at least come out to him. Then you can gauge his reaction. Watch as he lights up with hope or joy or whatever.”

He snorts a laugh at that. “Maybe.”

He spends the rest of his shift thinking about it. It’s a scary idea, saying it outloud to anyone besides Robin, but it’s also not scary. Because he knows it’ll be okay. Three other people in their weird little friend group are out and the world didn’t end. Though, when faced with real life monsters, near death experiences, and the world almost ending, being gay is probably the least of anyone’s concerns.

Midnight finally rolls around and Steve closes down the store. He’s going to sleep on it, but he thinks he is going to come out to Eddie. Even if nothing comes from it, even if Steve’s left pining forever, at least it might be nice to just let Eddie know. Queer Solidification, or whatever the word is that Robin uses.

July 23, 1987

Once again, Steve turns up at Eddie’s place unannounced. There’s a motorcycle parked out front of the trailer and Steve just knows it belongs to Jack.

He should have called. Made sure Eddie was here alone before coming over. He’s okay with coming out to Eddie, but not Jack, too.

Even so, he parks along the motorcycle. Turns the car off. Sits in it for another ten minutes, waffling between leaving and staying before finally unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing from the car. He’s going to do this tonight. Robin leaves back to Chicago for school mid-August and if this goes the way he thinks it will, he’s going to need all that time with her before she leaves.

Might also need the time between now and then to search for apartments to follow her there so he doesn’t have to stay here in his humiliation.

The porch is complete now. Steve never got around to telling Wayne he’d help with it. Too late now.

Steve pulls the screen door open, stepping in front of it so his body keeps it out of the way.

Knock knock knock.

Three quick hits to the door and he waits. He’s doing this.

The door opens just enough for Eddie to peak around. He looks a bit on edge at first, then his face smooths into an easy smile when he sees it’s Steve. “Oh, hey. Checking on Max again?”

“Uh, no. Here for you, actually. If that’s okay?”

“Um. One second,” Eddie says, closing the door again. Steve feels like his stomach is trying to climb up his throat. God, what if Eddie can’t talk tonight? Steve might just start looking for apartments anyway. Better safe than sorry.

An eternity (less than a minute) later, Eddie opens the door again, this time all the way. Steve steps inside before he really thinks about it. It smells like weed in here, so Steve knows what they were up to before he knocked.

He doesn’t want to have the conversation outside where anyone can overhear, but he doesn’t want to have it in front of Jack either. Jack, and the other stranger on the couch next to him.

Fuck.

“This is Steve,” Eddie introduces. “You know Jack. This is Lee.”

Lee is sat on the couch next to Jack, leaned against the armrest. He’s dressed like a toned down version of Jack. Still in dark clothes, but considerably less accessories. He’s handsome, too, with a rounder face and almond-shaped dark eyes.

“Hi,” Steve says.

“Hey,” Jack and Lee say at the same time, with Jack lifting a hand in greeting.

Eddie takes a step towards the couch, probably to plop down in the spot he was previously in, but Steve shoots a hand out to grab Eddie’s arm and halt his movement.

“Um. I actually. I just came to tell you something.”

“Well, alright. Shoot,” Eddie says.

Steve looks to the strangers on the couch before looking back to Eddie. “Privately.”

Eddie frowns, just for a moment, before his face smooths over and he shrugs. “Alright. We’ll be back out shortly,” he tells Jack and Lee before pulling his arm from Steve’s grasp to head down the hall to his bedroom.

Steve shuffles after, feeling awkward suddenly.

Eddie pushes the door open, then stands in the doorway like he’s holding it for Steve. Steve squeezes by him, his entire arm brushing against Eddie’s chest and stomach and just that little contact makes Steve’s stomach swoop.

Jesus Christ he’s got it bad, doesn’t he? How hadn’t he known that he had a crush on Eddie until recently? How had he been so blind?

The door clicks closed.

“So, what is it Steve?”

Steve stands in the middle of Eddie’s room. It’s messy, but not to dirty. There are clothes scattered about, and clutter on every surface, but Steve knows that Eddie knows where everything is. That if Steve knew what to ask for, Eddie would know where to find it in the chaos.

“I- um. Wow. This is harder than I thought it’d be,” Steve says, running a hand through his hair as he turns to look at Eddie. Which is a mistake. Looking at Eddie isn’t going to make this easier. Not now that he knows he wants to cup his face, and kiss those plush lips, and run his fingers through his hair.

Eddie’s so fucking hot and once again, Steve’s left to wonder how he missed it.

“What is? You okay, dude?” Eddie asks, taking just one step closer. Like he wants to comfort Steve even when he doesn’t know what he’d be comforting Steve for.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Um. Kinda fucking scared but not- uh, not in a bad way?”

That gets a little laugh out of Eddie, and it’s wonderful. Eddie has a wonderful laugh. Why did it take him so long to realize?

“Scared but not in the bad way, huh. Like when you watch a horror movie or go to a haunted house?”

“No. No. More… more like making a big life decision.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, blinking at him before his brows pinch together and he looks down, eyes on the floor instead of Steve’s face. It makes Steve feel like he can take a deep breath for the first time since enter Eddie’s room.

There’s a noise from beyond the door; it makes Steve jump. Eddie turns to look over his shoulder, like he’ll get x-ray vision and be able to see what made the noise through his own closed door. “I think they went to the porch for a cigarette.”

“Oh. Okay. Um. How- How did you meet Jack and Lee?” Steve asks, which isn’t what he came here to learn but the question has been plaguing him since he learned of Jack’s existence.

Eddie shifts. Uncomfortable. “At a bar in Indy. Why?”

Steve shrugs. “I was just curious. We didn’t go to school with either of them so you know…”

“No. I don’t know. Steve, what did you come here to tell me?” Eddie sighs, like he’s already had a full conversation with Steve in his head and didn’t like the outcome. Steve hates that he can’t just understand Eddie the same way he can Robin. Eddie is a mystery.

Eddie is a mystery, and Steve doesn’t want him to be. He wants Eddie to tell him everything about himself. Every little secret he keeps. And he wants to do the same. He wants Eddie to know everything there is to know about him, even if Steve isn’t sure there’s a whole lot to know about him.

God. Robin’s right, as usually. Steve’s not just going to come out to him. He’s going to tell Eddie he likes him.

“Right. Yeah. Umm, so. So it’s like this. You missed movie night at the beginning of June and-”

“What!?” Eddie sounds amused and offended, and Steve ignores him.

“-and like, ever since then we’ve been hanging out less and less. And like, that’s fine. You have your own friends, like a whole other life that doesn’t include me, and that’s fine. Great even. But, like. Okay. So, I dropped in unannounced and learned you had a new friend that I didn’t even know existed. Which is, like, normal. I’m not your keeper, I don’t need to know every little thing about you.” Steve is pacing in Eddie’s room and Eddie is looking at him like he’s gone insane, but he kind of feels insane right now so that’s fine.

“But, here’s the thing. You told me that jacket belonged to someone else and I couldn’t fucking stop thinking about it! That you had a friend who I didn’t know that was a close enough friend to leave things in your room and I just… Robin says I’m not good at sharing my friends. That it’s fine if I make friends and that friend already comes with other friends. But if that friend makes a new friend, that I’m not good at sharing. Does that make sense?”

When Steve turns to look at Eddie again, because he’s turned away in his pacing, Eddie has leans back against the door. Seems to be using it for support as he stares at Steve, eyes wide and confused. “No. Absolutely nothing you’ve said has made sense yet. Continue.”

“Oh. Um. Anyway, Robin told me I wasn’t good at sharing and she’s right. Because she’s always fucking right, and I was jealous. I knew I was, but it wasn’t, wasn’t until recently that I understood why. Because it didn’t feel the same. I didn’t feel jealous the same way I felt jealous when Robin told me about the friends she made in college, or back in high school with Tommy or Carol hung out with someone else,” Steve pauses, licking his lips nervously. “It felt like… like the night I saw Nancy and Jonathan together, back in junior year when Nancy and I were still dating. It felt like. Like that kind of jealousy.”

Eddie sucks in a breath but doesn’t speak, and Steve can’t seem to stop speaking, so he continues.

“Then I met Jack and he’s like fucking perfect. Fits right in with your friends and your look and he probably likes all the same shit you do and I don’t but I want- I don’t fit in and I can’t really stand how loud metal music is and I really don’t want to play your nerd game and I don’t match you, not like- not like Jack does but I saw you look at him, and it was the same way you used to look at me and I didn’t see if then, but I do know and I know this is kind of shitty. To not realize until you’ve already, like, moved on or something, and-”

“I haven’t,” Eddie speaks up and Steve’s attention snaps to him. Eddie’s looking at him with awe on his face and with disbelief in his voice. “Moved on. I haven’t. If you’re, holy shit, if you’re hear to say what I think -hope- you are, based on this absolute Robin Moment you’re having with your words.”

Steve doesn’t know what to say. Not now that Eddie’s interrupted. It was an absolute Robin Moment and she’s going to die laughing when he tells her about it, but he’s not thinking about Robin right now because it sounds like- it sounds like he’s not too late. “I- Eddie.”

Eddie shoves off his door and takes a step closer to Steve. “Steve. What did you come here to tell me?”

“That, that I’m like- that I like you,” Steve says, even though when he’s started that sentence he’d wanted to say he was some kind of gay. Half gay or something. “I like you, and I want to take you on a date.”

“Holy shit. Shit,” Eddie looks startled, even though Steve’s sure he already drew that conclusion in his mind. But thinking it and hearing it are very different. Eddie closes the distance between them but hesitates to actually reach out. “Shit, Steve. Like a real date?”

“Are there fake ones?” Steve asks, amused.

Eddie grins, shy, “yeah. I’ll let you take me on a date.”

He reaches out, placing a hand on Eddie’s hip and the other on his cheek. In a fit of bravery that surprises himself, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Eddie nods and keeps nodding his head even as the distance between them closes, like he can’t help himself or stop. Not until their lips touch.

Kissing is kissing, Steve realizes. Kissing Eddie is no different from kissing a girl except that because it’s Eddie and that makes Steve want it all the more. Eddie’s lips are chapped and kind of shredded because he chews on his bottom lip, but Steve doesn’t give a fuck. Not when Eddie melts against him, into the kiss. Not when he finally touches Steve back, arms wrapping around him to pull him as close as possible.

They don’t pull apart until they’re out of breath.

“Is this real? I’m not hallucinating, right? The weed we smoked wasn’t laced with anything, I thought, but-”

“It’s a shared hallucination if you are,” Steve laughs.

“I can’t believe you were envious of Jack.”

“Jealous.”

“Semantics.”

Eddie likes him. Eddie likes him, and kissed him, and he’s agreed to a date.

Later, they’ll slink back out to join Jack and Lee. Steve will learn to tolerate Jack (as much as he can knowing that Eddie used to or might still have a crush on the guy) and find that he does enjoy Lee’s company. (Later that night, he’ll learn he never needed to worry. Jack and Lee have been a couple since they were both fourteen.)

And later still, he’ll take Eddie on a date to the fair, disguised as a group outing.

Robin is smug the whole time, but Steve doesn’t care because Eddie kisses him behind the Funhouse while she plays lookout.

[ronearoundblindly]

Hideout (4.2)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Horny Teen, part two (see previous or series)

Summary: A late-summer heat wave hits you and Steve hard.

Warnings for smut (kinda unprotected sex, momentarily--guess that's dubcon to be safe--fingering, lots of foreplay things and dirty talk but Steve can't actually talk dirty, so...hot talk? IDK, gang, I 'bout died writing this. Prepare thy loins, babes). MINORS DNI. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this series is not for you! WC 3.1k

A/N: This part contains a cannibalized version of the original idea for this series, but since we've developed differently to this point, it is very different.

He calls ahead. For the first time in a year of visiting, he calls ahead and knows you aren’t working the night he’ll be here.

You work in the garden as long as you can stand before hopping in a cool shower. You aren’t even wrapped in a towel when the trill of your room phone—extension 14, as Steve now knows it—blares through multiple closed doors.

He’s checked-in, and in Room Two, but no pressure, if you want, if you don’t have plans, he’s here. It is the most adorable and awkwardest conversation of all time. It also never gets old to hear him scramble for the simplest of sentiments.

Translation: I’m excited to see you.

Your heart soars then immediately stalls in the stifling weather.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” you chuckle.

Of course, he opens his arms for a bear hug the instant the door labeled ‘2’ swings wide. Steve has fewer troubles with platonic affection when alone, that’s for sure, but who could blame him? You’re elated he’s here under any circumstances.

Record-setting heat this late in the summer has left all the AC units taxed to the brink, running constantly, and even with the in-room thermostat set stupidly low, a tank top and shorts is too much.

This means another first: both of you, in bed, naked.

Nothing’s happened, mind, because the swelter of the day zapped energy out of every creature for miles and miles around. The ice machine can’t keep up with eight rooms and your family needing relief from the blaze. From the bright stripe of red across Steve’s cheeks and his earthy musk, he was outside plenty. He’s wiped, too.

You wonder absently when the last time he wore cologne was and what it smelled like. Perhaps he never used it. Perhaps he misses small luxuries more than he ever realized.

Steve looks on the brink of heat-stroke, so you inched yourself onto one side of the bed to start, thinking skin-to-skin contact might be unwelcome. You barely got your palms on the sheets before he pulled you to him. You did not fight it.

It’s meant to be a profound comfort—your weight atop him—and it is.

Your cheek settles on his chest, eyes watching through the sheer curtains as dusk takes over the sky, a happy man stretched like a cat beneath you, smiling, heart beat slowing in your ear. So strong, so steady, so secure.

He’s safe. He’s comfortable. That’s all that matters.

You peer up from your perch. The thin worry lines on his forehead have relaxed. He seems younger. Freedom looks good on Steve Rogers, just as good as it looks on Captain America, maybe better.

You fall asleep straddling his hips, one knee hitched so the crook of your ankle drapes his thigh, slowly pushed up and down by his deep breaths.

You’re drifting, rocked gently by powerful waves in the nothingness of your blank mind, free like him, blooming in the warmth of a bright sun embracing you.

The glow continues until Steve gently shakes you awake.

The room is pitch black, the lights of the parking lot too muted to pass through the gossamer layer over the window.

“You’re…you were squirming a lot. Thought you might be having a nightmare,” his rough timber booms close to your ear.

“No, I—“ you wipe at your face “—I don’t think I was dreaming.”

Steve’s not so relaxed under you now. His abs quake slightly, and those slow breaths have become stunted, shallow with control.

“Did you?” you ask, looking towards his face, useless in the dark but your drowsy brain hasn’t caught up yet.

There’s a shuffling noise above you.

“Is that a ‘yes?’ Did you have a nightmare? You alright?”

The shuffling repeats, accompanied by a strangled “yes,” and you lift your arm to brace on his chest. It unhooks your leg from his, and the hard length of his erection moves from its perch at your ass, nudging the joint of your hip and thigh from below.

“Not—not a nightmare,” he whispers. “Just ignore it.”

Steve’s voice is husky, his grip on the back of your knee tight and unyielding, keeping you from trapping him between your legs.

Your impulse is to soothe him, to tell him he is fine and it is okay to be turned on, generally, when naked and pressed to someone you find attractive—hell, you definitely are—but if he wants you to ignore it, if he’d rather not, if it’s too soon or too hot (metaphorically, physically) or just too much right now, then you respect that. None of this has ever been about making him feel like how he chooses to receive affection is wrong.

Without moving any limbs, your fingers retract and relax, a gentle, nailless scratch to his broad pec beneath your hand, and his cock twitches, tapping your leg.

“Sorry,” Steve huffs.

“Do you want me to get off of you?” You suppress the urge to make a minor edit in that statement because it’s very close to what you want to do.

The shuffling noise sounds different.

“No,” he says softly.

You slide your hand up his chest to his neck and around the back of his head, petting the corner of his bearded jaw just below his ear, careful to use as few muscles as possible.

His cock taps you again anyway. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

You ignore it, as asked, and continue scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Hey,” you start in the darkness, “is this comfortable?”

You run your fingertips over his features while he nods, following his jaw up and down. 

Unable to see, this paints the most vivid picture of Steve’s reactions. You feel the vibration of a hum through his cheek, the draw and release of his brow as you skate over his forehead. You hear his short chuckle when you brush ever-so-gently across his long lashes and boop his nose. Finally, you trace his open-mouth smile with the edge of your thumb, his ragged exhale rushing over your palm.

Tap.

“Sorry.”

“Comfy though?”

His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Yeah.”

The drag of your fingers past the edge of bristly stubble and down his throat makes him shiver.

Twitch.

“Sorry.”

You flutter across his collarbone, wondering if that means he’s ticklish on more than just his sides.

“Comfy?”

He hums. You feel it rattle your cheek as much as you actually hear it in your ears.

You continue. His corded muscles giving only slightly to the pressure of your touch. His arm, his chest, down to the hand he keeps on your leg.

Several more breathy apologies sound above you. Steve’s other arm is draped over your waist, and with every pulse of need that betrays him, his grip tightens just a little. His fingers now dig into your soft flesh absently.

It’s hard to hide how desperate he’s made you, but the issue is mutual based on how his abs won’t stop tensing, searching for attention where he denies it. 

You flatten your hand to his chest and make to move.

“May I?”

Steve’s swallow is louder than the ‘okay’ he returns.

You are careful not to push him in any weird angles as you raise up to your knees and straddle him, pinning his erection beneath you, not directly between your folds but nestled at the apex of your legs, just so he won’t have to worry about every involuntary poke. 

With such fresh contact, he clenches his ass hard in response, lifting your whole weight completely before he settles again. The surge of heat to your core has you biting your lip to muffle a moan.

“Comfy?” you rasp at the same moment Steve offers a strangled “sorry.”

The low, constant whine of the air conditioner fills the hollow space around your cocoon of anticipation.

“New plan,” you laugh, relaxing your fingers to splay across his warm skin, “both of us stop doing that, huh? You have nothing to be sorry for, and I’ll trust you to tell me if you aren’t comfortable.”

“So…” Steve shuffles on the sheets, but whatever he moves doesn’t affect your position. “Can I touch you?”

You bite your lip harder before answering, your voice dropping to a sweet reassurance. “Yes. Of course you can, Stevie.”

You keep your pets of his chest and arms light, trying not to tickle him. He’s always so hesitant; you’re worried the tiniest misstep will send him back into his head—not in a good way.

The silence now feels purposeful, dense with possibility, and then rough fingertips land like a foreign explorer who’s braved months at sea solely to experience this moment.

A calculated inhale and exhale rock your pelvis, a wave of nerves foaming in your gut.

He starts innocently enough, mapping your thighs, muttering something about how soft they are, but you don’t dare lean to hear him better. No sudden movements. None. Even though your skin lights up as explosive as those 4th of July fireworks you missed.

Since there’s nothing to see in the room, you feel everything.

He keeps to the periphery of you at first, abandoning your legs to brush the same arms touching him, running fingers together, separating them just as quickly, caressing your palms gently, and dragging his short nails up your wrists without pressure.

You stiffen in pleasure, fighting not to shrink away from the purest intimacy you’ve ever experienced.

His long arms reach the curve of your shoulders, flit across your collarbone, and you’re doing your damndest to keep it together, leaning your head back in lieu of talking.

Don’t scare him.

It can’t last; you’re only human.

Steve’s hands slowly descend over your breasts, middle fingers catching your peaking nipples, and a lewd and aching cry tumbles from your bitten lips.

The force of it surprises you, but more surprising still is him, unfazed, encouraged to linger.

In that low timber, he growls.

“You like that… Knew you would.”

Your body throbs, pulsing with need and emptiness.

That means he thinks of you. He’s imagined this. He’s wanted this.

Stunning electricity shoots through your body as he pinches and twists, squeezes and kneads. Nothing too harsh, but he’s highly motivated when you purr and gasp atop him.

What else does he think about doing? How long has he fantasized? Is this as good as his imagination?

Yours aren’t the only noises now. He sounds tortured with little pleas and whimpers escaping before each guttural moan.

Arousal pools at your folds, and without realizing you started to move, the shy momentum of your hips has nudged his length to lay flush with your dripping center. His tip glides over your clit.

Again and again.

Again and again.

A hot pressure builds in you, faster than ever, kerosene dumped on your wet-dreams and burned to life, a spell manifest in the night.

Steve shakes beneath the palms you brace flat on his chest, the heels digging into his diaphragm.

He moves to grip your thighs hard.

Fire spreads beneath your skin as you two pant and gasp, his whole cock slick and slotted so close to where you truly long for him.

“Wait,” Steve groans, but you can’t understand.

No one could imagine how good this feels, how much you need this, how—

He sits up to stop you, accidentally notching himself at your entrance, your residual motion sliding the thick head of him past the that first, tight ring.

Steve’s lusty moan is barely eclipsed by your own, and you’re too close to halt sheathing him within you, arms instinctively wrapping his shoulders. Desire winds the coil in your belly too taut, the thought of losing this climax unbearable.

“N-uhhh god—“

He’s too sensitive though. He flips you both so your back crashes to the soft sheets and digs his grip into your side, his other hand thumping to anchor on the headboard. Steve sucks air through his teeth like he’s afraid the faintest smell of sex will set him off.

“Don—don’t move,” he orders in thick command.

It makes things worse.

You’re so close, vaulting off the ground and suspended by legs clamped around his waist, dangling on the precipice of ecstasy. You whine and clench, totally unable to control yourself, your nails digging into his back.

Steve cries out, choked at the hilt by your desperation and lost to his own finish.

His hand races from your side to your ass. He pulls out of you only to slot himself there and thrust his cock between your cheeks, cum shooting on the sheets below.

Mindlessly, you ride the cut of his abs, his course pubic hair adding almost enough friction to keep ascending toward your own end, but the void left behind is too consuming. The fire sputters and dims.

Steve buries his face in your neck, breath cooling the sweat lining your skin as he curls away from you, overwhelmed.

“Swear I was gonna wait,” he confesses to the tender spot behind your ear. “I swear.”

“Please,” you croak, tears prickling your eyes in lament for your ruined orgasm.

“Was gonna be better. Swear I’ll do better for you.”

You grope and claw at those thick arms which hold all but his face far away. “Please,” you beg pathetically, “fucking touch me, please.”

A drawn out grunt vibrates the column of your throat.

“Y’shouldn’t have ta beg...”

He shifts to his forearm, caging you in as you plead over and over. He kneels to hover, and your thighs weakly squeeze at his own to emphasize what you need.

“Sounds so pretty when you do…”

Something between a screech and a snarl erupts from your chest.

Steve shushes you, smoothing a big hand across your damp cheek, and quietly, he commands you, “show me what to do.”

Your quivering hold guides him by the wrist down your body. Words to instruct him won’t form in your sex-steeped brain. As luck would have it, he doesn’t need specifics.

“Next time I’ll taste you.” One finger teases your folds in search of his entrance. “Next time you’ll have to beg me to stop.” Two fingers drive forward, displacing a gush of your shared juices. “So wet,” he groans, agonized to silence when you jerk his hand to thrust faster.

“More.” 

He sets a loving and delicate pace, the heel of his palm working your clit. 

Too delicate.

“More,” you gasp.

He obliges, muttering how good he’ll be to you from now on. You’ll always be first. He promises.

The fire takes over again.

“More, Stevie. Please.”

You grind down on him to prove your point, and he marvels that this isn’t too rough for you.

Each strangled breath ties your moans together in a crescendo worthy of Carnegie Hall.

“God,” he rumbles by your ear again, “I know that sound. You’re close, aren’t you?”

Steve’s pumping fingers bully your body farther and farther up the bed, using only a taste of his real strength.

Your chant of ‘yes’ catches in your taxed lungs. He doesn’t need an answer though.

The super-stretched band snaps, a plateau of peace and weightlessness tipped at the vertex until—crash—nerves are razed all along you like a carpet-bombed battlefield.

“Uhnn, is that what you’re gonna feel like around me?” He sighs at the thought and stills his hand just to commit the ripple to memory. “How’m I s’pose to last?”

You slap a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to hold in your yelp of relief.

That mouth…that fucking mouth of his is a weapon all its own.

Tiny explosions wreak havoc on you, body and soul, as his fingers greedily coax you to keep coming—just a little more—just for him—one last rush—give him everything.

His lips open in your palm, but you grip his face harder.

You can’t. You can’t listen right now. You can’t hear one more dangerously sexy, completely innocent thing fall from his beautiful mouth.

Steve lets his hand go lax but doesn’t take it away from your clenched and spasming thighs.

He tries to speak again then gives up, waiting.

Finally, before you can collapse boneless to the bed, he hooks his arm behind your leg so you don’t land on the cold, cum-stained sheets.

He shakes off your forgotten grip of his jaw.

“Tops?” he whispers, patience personified in the long pause before you hum acknowledgment. “Can I kiss you?”

That fucking mouth…

There’s barely enough breath in you to make a sound, but the instant the ‘ye—’ forms in the back of your throat, Steve’s lips are on yours.

It's your first real kiss, of all the ways, after all this time, following all that.

You’d laugh if you weren’t smiling, suffocating in the gentle press that becomes deep and adoring. He kisses you thoroughly after each frantic gasp for air, savoring you, even in the reckless passion of the moment.

Steve rolls to lay you atop him again, more intimately than before. He keeps his face close, sharing breath even in the heat and stench of sex in the room, your wetness now smeared from his navel to his knee.

Turns out, he is a very good kisser, focusing on the act of physical connection. Not only do your lips touch, but he likes to nudge you into whatever minutely different position with his nose. He likes to nuzzle his beard on your sensitive skin until you giggle and squirm. He relishes you like you relish him. 

He whispers things too soft to make out at first. It takes him a while to find his voice, to push past his insecurities, to find his confidence, but eventually, you hear it.

He mumbles how he should have been better, more prepared.

You weave all your fingers through his hair, propped on his chest by your elbows, smiling so he’ll be able to tell in your tone.

“Take the win, Cap.” 

You freeze.

You’ve never called him that, and Steve stays silent for an excruciating beat.

“Sorry,” you offer in the dark, air conditioner churning out sobering drafts of reality.

Steve runs his knuckles gently in patterns across your bare back. There’s a short huff and an amused snort, you mind scrambling to plan some explanation as to why you’d haul the drama of out there into his safe space.

He guides you to settle against him again, tucking you into his strong hold with his chin resting on your forehead.

After what feels like an eternity, he simply asks, “comfy?”

A/N: In case you were wondering...

[Next part: Desperate Man, part one]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl

[headkiss]

do you think i have forgotten?

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you loved steve harrington years ago, and he loved you. now, coming back to hawkins, you find that things may not be so different.

word count: 14.1k

warnings: fluff, smut, a little angst, exes to lovers, very much idiots in love!

a/n: here it is!!! i hope u guys like it!!! it took a while but hopefully it was worth it <3

༄

A ‘welcome home’ banner hangs lopsided on the wall.

The party is smaller than the ones you’d become accustomed to at school. That didn’t matter. What did was that your favorite people were around for this one.

It was meant to be a surprise, but Nancy gave you a heads up. She knows you hate surprises, you just don’t have the heart to tell Robin, who absolutely loves surprise parties. Planning them, to be exact. So, you acted shocked, put on your biggest smile.

It was worth it for the beaming grin on your friend’s face, the tight hug as a hello.

You didn’t realize how much you missed home until now. Until you came back.

Small talk isn’t so tiring when it’s with people you really care about. Eddie and Jonathan, Nancy and Robin, even the kids are there to give you the warmest welcome you could ever have. Hugs from some of them, teasing from all of them.

It’s perfect, but there’s an obvious absence. One you’ve tried and tried not to think about. But here, in this room, with these people, you can tell that without him, there’s a space waiting to be filled.

That space has been left open in your life for years. A gaping hole. Then, when the night’s half over and you’re convinced you won’t see him, you hear one word that has memories rushing back to you. Like a flood.

“Ace.”

There’s only one person in the entire world who calls you that. Steve Harrington.

The nickname isn’t the only thing that gives him away. His voice is engraved in your head, the tone, the way it hits your ears. It’s been years since you last heard it, and still, it feels so, so familiar.

You met in high school. Gym class, actually, and you’d been deemed Ace ever since. By him.

It started with friendship, reluctant at first and then impossibly close. It grew into the kind of undeniable thing that pushed you together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. In love.

He was really, really good to you. So good that you didn’t care about who his friends were or what his reputation was. You didn’t care when things changed and he went from King Steve to the best babysitter around. Over a year, you were together.

Then, he was gone.

When you told him you’d be going away for school, he was supportive, happy for you, even. Then, the day before you were set to move he sat you down and broke your heart. I can't be with you anymore, he said.

Not I don’t want to, or I won’t. Can’t. Like he had no other choice.

To this day, you’re not sure why he did it. You called over and over for weeks when you first got to school. He never picked up. You were only able to check on him through your mutual friends. Robin, Nancy, Eddie, all of them.

One day, he was the greatest thing in your life, the next, he’d completely disappeared from it. Like a ghost.

You pushed yourself through school, tried to let go of him. It got easier, but the pinch in your chest when you thought about him never quite went away. You tried being with other guys again, but nothing stuck. It felt like you were cheating, like you could never fully commit to someone else. Your mind, body, and soul still belonged to him.

It got easier eventually. You can’t remember when it did, but over time, thinking of Steve became less like a stab to the chest, and more of a pinch.

When you spoke to your friends, they’d mention him briefly. In passing, like they didn’t want to hurt you with something as simple as a name. You knew he was working at Family Video with Robin, you knew his parents were around even less than they used to be, and you knew he went on dates. Often.

Steve spent every year of you being away trying to convince himself that he did the right thing.

He missed you constantly, but he felt like he’d be holding you back if he stayed with you. A distraction from your college experience, a boyfriend who couldn’t even make it to college himself. Not enough for you.

Now, seeing you at the welcome home party Robin put together, he feels like the biggest idiot in the world. Universe, even. Because how could he have let go of someone that lights up the room like a ray of fucking sunshine.

It’s pathetic that all he could say to you after all the years was his nickname for you.

You turn around after hearing it, the sight of Steve a punch in the gut. He’s just as pretty, if not more, and though he mostly looks the same, he’s grown in ways you weren’t there to see. He’s almost a stranger now.

“Steve,” you manage. “You’re here.”

“Hi.”

It took a lot of convincing from the gang for him to come. Not because he didn’t want to (he wanted to see you more than anything), but because he didn’t want to do anything to make you upset.

Your haircut is different than before, and you hold yourself in a new way, too. But, as soon as he finds your eyes he feels like he’s in high school again, laying in his bed facing you or laughing at the back of the movie theater.

He thinks of the last time he saw you, the tears leaving trails down your cheeks, the way you didn’t let yourself sob until he walked out. His stomach is in knots.

“Hi,” you hold yourself back from reaching out and poking him to make sure he’s real. “I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Well, surprise,” he sings the second word and throws up some awkward jazz hands. A glimpse of the dork you remember.

Surprise indeed.

“I can leave,” he offers in your silence. He even turns to do so before you stop him.

“No! No, it’s just- it’s been a while.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. It’s too late for that, and as much as you want to know what happened, why he ended things and just… vanished, you aren’t so stuck on that anymore. Four years is a long time.

You aren’t mad about it, it just never fully left your head.

“How was school?” He asks. Safe, easy.

“Well, I graduated. So, that’s something.”

A wink of a smile has the corners of his mouth twitching up. You’re different, but you’re also the same girl he knew. It’s nice to see again, to have hope that he didn’t destroy you.

“I knew you would,” he scratches the back of his neck. He’s not used to feeling so awkward around you. “You can write your own essays, after all.”

That one makes you huff a laugh, makes you think back to late nights spent helping him fix up his writing. Red pen doodles and way too many distractions.

“One of my many talents,” you say.

There’s another pause, a stillness that feels so wrong for the both of you. He put the distance there, and he hates himself for it. “I’ll be seeing you around then?”

“Yeah, Steve. I’m home.”

Yes, he thinks. You are home. Hawkins was missing something without you in it. Or maybe that was just him. Missing something without you.

Just as you’re pulled away into a conversation with Robin and Max, Steve grasps your wrist gently. Your skin burns with the familiarity of his touch. Aches with the memory.

“It’s good to see you, Ace.”

Then, in a blink, he lets you go.

When you turn away, Eddie comes up beside Steve, claps a hand on his back. “Nice, man. Not weird at all.”

“Shut it, Munson.”

Steve has a hard time keeping his eyes off of you. He searches for you when he hears you laugh, can feel his pulse jump when you throw your head back the way you always have. He lets his eyes linger when he knows he shouldn’t.

You catch him once. You can feel his stare on you like a breeze, tickling the back of your neck. When you turn towards him your eyes lock, just for a moment.

-

Hawkins is mostly the same. The stores on Main Street still have worn awnings, letters faded and colors dimmed. The arcade sign still flickers, Enzo’s is still the best restaurant. The movies where Steve used to take you on dates, his house with his BMW in the driveway.

It’s hard to be back and not let Steve bleed into everything.

At school, it was easy not to think about him. You’d bury yourself in studying and projects. Here, he’s everywhere you look. The town is painted with memories of you and him. He’s written all over the place.

You thought you were over what happened, that you could come home and not let it phase you. You had no idea it’d be like this.

Despite it all, you’re glad to be home. You like waking up to the peacefulness of light wind and leaves rustling. It’s a lot nicer than a dorm building full of students and the constant noise of the city.

You’re tremendously happy to be so close to your friends again, too. There’s no more worrying about whether or not you’ll see them anytime soon, no more sporadic phone calls that just make you miss them more.

But still, there’s that empty space. Steve-shaped.

The next time you see him you’d decided to visit Robin at work. It took you about a week of being home to get yourself to go into Family Video, knowing Steve works there. You have to get used to him again.

Sure enough, when you walked in, there he stood. Green vest and all.

When the bell above the door jingles to signal your entrance, Steve turns to look at you. He sets down the box of stock he’d been holding, and your eyes follow the way his arms flex before you can tell them not to.

“Ace, hi.”

“Hey,” you send a short wave his way, rocking on your feet. “I’m just meeting Robin for lunch.”

He probably knows that, but you say it anyway, trying to fill the void of silence that hums between you.

“Yeah. She’s in the back already,” he says. “I can show you.”

“Sure, thanks.”

He almost places a hand at the small of your back to guide you, just like he used to. It’d be so natural, so simple. Instead, he clenches his fist by his side and shuffles in front of you, nodding his head for you to

follow.

“So, um,” he stops in front of the door to the back, turning to face you. “We still do movie nights. All of

us, like we used to. You should come.”

“Are you sure?”

Movie nights are always at Steve’s, and you don’t want to be there if it’ll cause any problems, as much as you’ve missed the sense of tradition. Routine.

“There’s an open spot on the couch for you anyway. Always has been.”

When you were away, you worried your friends would replace you. Forget about you, even. That clearly wasn’t the case.

“I’d love to go. If you’re sure it’s okay.”

“As long as you still don’t mind Eddie talking through the important parts.”

You shake your head, a small, close-mouthed smile on your face.

“Wouldn’t be a movie night without it.”

The bell above the door rings again, and Steve turns to see the customer. “I should get back.”

You nod. You watch him go, watch him greet the woman who walked in with his classic smile.

You just have to get used to him again, that’s all.

-

Walking the steps up to the Harrington’s front door is something you’ve done time and time again. So, it shouldn’t feel so odd, really.

It used to be an almost daily occurrence. Now, it takes you some mental preparation before you can bring yourself to knock on the door. This time, it isn’t Steve who answers, it’s Robin. You’re grateful for it, because stepping into his house again is already a bunch to take in.

“You came!” She says, grinning.

“Of course I did. I missed movie nights a bunch.”

You really, really did.

While you had a couple of friends in Indianapolis, the connections were shallow. Especially compared to what you have here. There, they were friendships formed from convenience. Roommates or project partners. It was a lot lonelier than you let on.

“We missed you, too.” Robin walks you into the living room, where cheers of your name ensue.

“Look who it is,” Eddie speaks from where he sits on the ground in front of the TV, setting things up.

There’s a shift from the loud, giddy greetings when Steve walks into the room, bowl of popcorn in hand. It’s like everyone’s waiting for one of you to burst.

“Hey. You made it,” Steve says. No bursting, just some sort of tension that hasn’t gone away since you saw him at your party.

“Yeah. Thanks again for inviting me.”

“Surprised one of them didn’t beat me to it,” he nods at your friends that are scattered across the couches. Your friends whose eyes are ping-ponging between you both.

It’s almost like you can feel everyone take a breath of relief when you plant yourself by the armrest of the sofa. When you shoot Steve a small, barely-there smile. A peace offering.

Halfway through the movie—broken up by constant Eddie commentary, and various ways of someone telling him to stuff it—Steve notices the way you’re curled up, cardigan pulled tight over your body.

He reaches across Robin to hand you a blanket wordlessly. She nudges his shoulder when you aren’t looking, gives him a look that tells him she knows something, even if he doesn’t.

He’s always been attentive, but you’re surprised when the soft fabric is passed over. You wonder if he realizes it’s the blanket you’d always reach for when you were over. If he realizes he handed you the one you’d cuddled him under countless times.

He doesn’t, you’re sure. Why on earth would he remember those things? Or even care?

After that night, the group slowly becomes whole again. The others stop planning separate things with you or Steve. It’s like they waited for you to get acclimated to being around each other again, tested the waters.

It’s as sweet as it is sad. You never wanted to mess anything up, make anything harder.

Though you see Steve a lot more often, your interactions with him remain short and distant. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to feeling so far away from him.

While you were away, over time, the memories became less vivid, as did the pictures that still sit in your bedroom at home. Sun damaged and faded. Your feelings, though, they never really dimmed, only pushed to the back of your mind and shoved into a box labeled Steve.

That box has been bursting at the seams.

Still, you try to keep it shut, to push it all aside and be friends with him again. Or, friendly, at the very least.

Steve keeps a framed picture of you in a drawer in his bedside table. Maybe that’s weird. It used to sit atop of the table, but he moved it when it got too hard to look at your face without thinking of how it looked when you cried.

Having you around again is hard, but it’s more so a relief. He’s missed you so, so much, and even though things aren’t the same and they might never be again, he’ll take you in his life any way he can have you. And this is a start.

The hardest part, he thinks, is burying all the things he never got to say. I’m sorry, I just wanted what was best for you, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s no use now, he knows that, so he swallows the words down. They make his stomach ache.

He needs to distract himself from it all, because it’s too much. Seeing your face almost every day again, not being able to reach out and hold it like he used to.

It’s way too much.

-

You got a job at Enzo’s to keep yourself busy.

While you’d love to stay buried in your bed all day, or walk around aimlessly until you end up at Lover’s Lake, sitting by the water and listening to it move, your parents decided it’d be better for you to do something valuable with your time.

Besides, waitressing isn’t so bad. You mostly work nights, allowing you the sleep-ins you love so much, there’s not so much pressure when you already know most of the people you serve, and the tips are always nice.

It’s mostly a breeze—besides a spill incident—until Steve shows up there on a date. Seated in your section.

Your coworker had warned you, “new table for you. Looks like a date.” And there he was. His hair done like always (does he still use Farrah Fawcett spray?) and his dress shirt a little wrinkled.

When it’s time to head over, you shut your eyes and take a grounding breath, slap on your customer service smile. You introduce yourself like you always do, the ‘I’ll be your waitress for this evening’ spiel.

Steve looks up from the menu as soon as he hears your voice. He’s stunned, eyes wide and mouth ever-so-slightly agape while he looks at you. He tries to recover quickly. If he’d known you were working tonight he never would have brought his date here, never would have subjected you to that on purpose. He feels like shit.

“Can I get you guys anything to drink?” You say. Waitress persona engaged, praying your face doesn’t look forced.

She orders first. Her voice is sweet, and she’s pretty. Why'd she have to be so pretty?

“Just water for me. Thanks, Ace,” Steve says, letting the nickname slip. It’s like he can’t hold it in around you.

“‘Course.” You turn quickly to get their drinks.

“Ace?” Steve’s date, Becky, asks.

“We’re friends. From school. Just a nickname.”

He simplifies it. There’s no point in telling the whole story. It’s over—he’s had to remind himself of that constantly—and it’s his fault. Not the type of thing he needs to share on a first date, that’s for sure.

“Oh, okay. So, what are you getting?” Somehow, she accepts the answer easily.

You shouldn’t feel so shaken by this. Really, you shouldn’t. You were with Steve ages ago, and it’s been over. You don’t have any sort of claim over him anymore. None.

So why is your stomach twisting every time you catch him smiling at something she says?

All you know is that it won’t do you any good to think about that too much. You busy yourself with getting their drinks instead. You approach the table carefully, not wanting to spill anything.

“For you,” you set her drink down. She thanks you. She’s nice, too. “And, water for you.”

“Thank you.”

“You guys ready to order, or do you need a couple more minutes?”

It’s like you’re on autopilot, repeating the same phrases you do to every single table, hoping that it comes out sounding natural.

“I think we’re good,” Steve says, gesturing for his date to go first.

He almost feels like he should apologize to you. Then again, maybe he’s reading into things too far. As much as he feels like he can tell when you’re uncomfortable, when your smile is forced, he has no idea if your habits are the same as they used to be.

You’re cautious not to let your hands touch when you collect the menu from Steve.

The rest of their dinner is much the same, and you’re grateful any time you can distract yourself with a different table. Your actions are stiff, your words practically robotic.

Still, before he leaves, Steve leaves you a tip and a scrawled note on a crumpled receipt: ‘Thank you. Sorry for the ambush. -Steve.’

You still have notes from him, in that same, charmingly messy handwriting, buried in a shoebox in your closet. Notes you didn’t have time to get rid of in your rush to move. Notes you should probably get rid of.

Not only did he leave you a note, he was outside waiting for you when your shift was over.

He wasn’t going to wait. He was going to leave it at the note and hope that you weren’t bothered as much as he thought you might be. Maybe it was stupid to think you’d be affected by him being with someone else in front of you after all this time, but he couldn’t ignore the instinct he got when he saw the look on your face. The guilt he felt.

He catches you as you walk out the door, startling you a bit, “Ace, wait up.”

“God, you scared me. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry,” he says, falling into step beside you as you walk to your car. He’d parked two spots over. “Actually, I just wanted to say that. Sorry, I mean.”

“You already said that,” he tilts his head, a question. “On your note.”

“I didn’t want you to think I did that on purpose. I didn’t know you worked at Enzo’s until tonight, actually.”

“I haven’t been for long,” you amend. “I’m not upset with you, Steve.”

The words hold a lot more meaning than you expected. You really aren’t upset with him, not over tonight, and not over what happened years ago. You’re more upset with yourself for letting it get to you even now.

“Good. That’s- I never wanted to hurt you.”

His words are heavy, too. You’re too tired to hold the weight.

“What about your date?” You stop next to your car. He stops, too.

“I drove her home already. Came back after.”

Really, he was halfway home after dropping off Becky, but he couldn’t shake his worry that he’d caused even more strain on your relationship. He turned around without a second thought.

“She seems nice,” you say.

“Yeah,” he looks around the parking lot, stares at the streetlight for a second. “So, we’re okay?”

“We’re okay,” you confirm.

You can’t help but hope that saying it out loud will make things feel better with him. That maybe, you could be some sort of friends again.

He nods, “okay. Sorry again,” he searches for his keys in his pocket, “have a good night, Ace.”

He walks the short distance to his car while you fumble to unlock yours. Climbing in and shutting the door, you let your head fall against the steering wheel, forehead pressed to it.

What a night.

-

Steve’s seen Becky a few times since the date at Enzo’s.

She is nice, and he does like her, but he hasn’t been able to let her kiss him anywhere other than the cheek. So far, she hasn’t said anything, but he knows that he won’t be able to dodge her without question for much longer.

When you were gone, though it took time, he was able to be with other people. It never lasted long, and he rarely went through with things without thinking of you at least once. He can’t even give someone a peck on the mouth.

It’s like as soon as he thinks he can lean in and do it, his mind is all Ace Ace Ace, and he finds he can’t.

He’s trying his best to ignore it, to hope that in getting used to you being back, he’ll get used to not being with you, too. So far, it hasn’t been working very well. He dreams more often than not, and even in sleep, he can’t seem to escape your face.

Instead of digging into whatever mess he’s sure that’ll cause, he’s been seeing Becky.

It’s unfair, he knows it is. To her and to you, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He isn’t thinking straight because you’ve rushed back into his life so quickly he can’t catch up. He’s trying to bury the feelings he has for you by focusing on someone else.

Though, maybe focusing isn’t the right word, because his mind still wanders to you. A bunch.

He’s confused and he’s scared and he misses you. He doesn’t know what to make of everything that’s pushing to the surface once again now that you’re home, and he doesn’t want to because he’s afraid of what it’s sure to become. What might’ve never even left.

He misses you but he can’t do anything about that. So, Becky it is.

-

The breeze tickles your cheeks as you make your way through the trailer park in search of any of your friends.

Somehow, Eddie and his band managed to make their own gig out by the picnic tables, and, of course, he’d invited the group to come watch. When you first became friends with Eddie, he was reluctant to let you all in on his music. Now, though, he lets everyone know there’s a spot for them saved at every performance.

You follow the noise, finding where a small crowd of people has formed by the tables that have been pushed together to serve as a stage. Probably an unsafe one, at that, but it’s Eddie. He cheers when he spots you from where he stands on the middle table.

“She’s here!”

“Can't miss the first show I’m back for, can I?”

“The rockstar would not have that,” Robin says, giving you a quick side hug.

“Thank you for calling me a rockstar,” Eddie replies.

You say your hellos to the others, Nancy, sitting on the bench attached to the table Eddie’s stood on, Jonathan, fiddling with his camera.

“Is Steve not coming?” You ask. Hopefully in a casual way.

“No, he is,” Nancy says.

“Likes to be fashionably late,” is what Robin has to say.

You nod, turning your attention to Eddie, “so, how many of these songs are new?”

“To these fools, none,” he points lazily around the group. “To you, all of them.” He smiles, and it makes you smile, too. You’ve missed being able to support him in person.

“Can’t wait to hear them, then.”

“Dingus!” Robin yells happily.

You know she’s talking about Steve. You turn around to find him. Probably too quickly.

“Hey guys,” he waves. It’s then you notice that he’s not alone. His date that he took to Enzo’s is with him. She waves, too, her arm curled around Steve’s. “This is Becky.”

She’s met with polite greetings. Your mouth, for some reason, stays shut.

Robin comes to stand beside you. She looks at your expression, the shock that you shake your head to clear, the tiniest bit of hurt that lingers in your eyes. You look at her, and she raises her eyebrows at you, are you okay? It’s silent, but you know it’s what she’s asking.

Isn’t that a question. You don’t know why your stomach sinks when you see her with him. Again. Well, maybe you do know, you just don’t want to accept it. The feelings you’d had for Steve were meant to be long, long gone.

Only, since being home, you’ve realized they aren’t.

Even though things with Steve have been far from the same as before, even as when you were friends, he’s still Steve. He’s the kind boy you knew, only older. He still cares about the kids the way an older sibling would, he still puts his friends before anything, and he’s still the greatest person you know.

You simply shrug at Robin.

Then, Becky’s in front of you, “we already met, right?”

“Yeah, um, hi.”

“Hi. It’s nice to at least have a familiar face here.”

God, you want to dislike her so bad, but you really can’t. She’s kind, and she’s clearly making an effort to make a good impression. It’s annoying.

Steve knows he probably shouldn’t have brought her with him, but she’s been asking to meet his friends so frequently and he figured that Eddie’s gig would be as good a time as ever. At least here, there’s a crowd to hide in.

He really does like Becky, just not in the way he’s supposed to. He thinks he might’ve spent all of those feelings on you, and there’s no way he’s getting them back.

Eddie jumps down from the table and pulls Steve aside, “what are you doing?”

“Dunno what you mean.” He does, actually. Only, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Come on, man. You can't tell me you don’t see the way she looks at you,” Eddie’s not talking about Becky. He’s talking about you.

“She doesn’t look at me. Not like that.”

“Sometimes you really are an idiot, you know? She looks at you like you put the fucking moon in the sky, all melty and shit.”

“She used to look at me like that. I fucked it up. That’s gone, okay?”

“Is it gone for you?” Eddie says.

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve says. When he looks at you, however, it feels like it matters. A lot.

“Just saying. Think you might’ve brought the wrong lady.”

Steve already feels bad about what he’s trying to do with Becky. Seeing her to distract himself from you. He hates that even his friends are seeing through it. Is it really that obvious?

Eddie turns away to finish setting up with the band. Steve sees Becky talking to you of all people and he almost smacks himself right there. He’s so, so stupid. He walks over, into the mess he’s created.

“Hey, Ace,” he nods at you quickly, then turns to Becky. “Why don’t we go find a spot to sit?”

“We aren’t watching here?”

Steve looks between you and her quickly. Really, he’s just trying to save you from having to talk to her. He can still tell when you’re itching to get out of a conversation.

“Think the speakers might be too loud for you, babe.”

You miss whatever reply she gives him, stuck on his use of the word babe. The last time you heard it come from his mouth, he was saying it to you. It stings even though it shouldn’t.

It’s over. It’s been over. So why is it so hard to forget about it?

-

You never really got used to seeing Steve with Becky.

He didn’t bring her around often—maybe for your sake—but when he did, you’d find yourself keeping your distance. At least one person between you and them, like a buffer.

It felt like the progress you’d made with Steve, with not feeling so far away around him, was disappearing every time you saw her standing with him. You hated it, how you let things affect you.

A couple of weeks went on that way. Then, you got a phone call.

You’d been sitting on your bed, back against the headboard, doing absolutely nothing. The shrill ringing came from your bedside table, and you leaned over to pick it up mindlessly.

“Hello?”

“Ace.”

It’s Steve. He hasn’t called you since you’ve been back. His utterance of your nickname sounds like a breath of relief.

“Steve? What’s going on?”

“Can I come see you?”

“What?” You’re convinced you misheard him, or that something’s wrong. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, promise,” he pauses. “Well, I broke up with Becky. But I’m good, okay?”

He broke up with Becky? He broke up with Becky and decided to call you. You’re not quite sure what to do with that.

“You- did something happen?”

“No, no. Just- I’ll explain everything. Let me see you.”

It's hard to say no to him, and you can’t help but be worried. You say yes, a quiet word whispered into the phone.

“Thank you,” he says. “See you soon, Ace.”

“Bye.”

You barely get the word out before the sound of his phone being hung up echoes in your ear. It’s only then, in the silence of your room, that you notice your heart pounding, a heavy thump in your chest.

Steve knows it’s selfish to want to see you now, after he’s just broken up with someone. It’s the first actual breakup he’s had since being with you, and yet, he’s not even upset. He just wants to see you.

Sure, he liked Becky, but she could never really erase his thoughts of you. He felt awful about staying with her for the reasons he did. So, he broke it off.

Now, he's knocking on your window.

The tapping wouldn’t be so noticeable if you hadn’t been waiting for it. He never did like using the front door.

You open the window for him, move backwards a couple of steps to give him enough room to stumble inside, hair a little messy, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, devastatingly pretty.

It brings you back to high school. Steve, sneaking through your window at night just to fall asleep with you, his arms a safety net, his steady breathing a lullaby. Steve, peering at you through the glass with that grin of his. Steve.

“You know you can use the door, right?” You say.

“Not my style,” he takes a second to look at you. “Hi, Ace.”

You shift on your feet.

“Hi.”

“I know this is…” He trails off. There’s not really a single word for it. “Thanks for letting me come.”

“I’ll always be here for you.”

You mean it. Even after everything, he’s Steve over it all. Your Steve, who was the greatest friend you ever had and, somehow, an even better boyfriend. He’s never been horrible to you; not even close.

Sure, he broke your heart and fell away from your life right after that, but you know him. You know there’s something he hasn’t told you about that, and if letting him in through your window again is a step closer to hearing it, you’re willing to take it.

“Even after what I did?”

“I don’t think you could ever really lose me, Steve.”

That hits him in the gut, a painful twist. Because he thought he did. Yes, he broke up with you (he regretted it very quickly), but he’d fought the urge to pick up the phone and call you at school more times than he can count.

“You’re a good person, Ace.”

He’s tiptoeing around whatever he wants to say to you. You talk softly, “why’d you want to see me?”

“I just needed to make sure you knew something.”

“What is it?”

“Just- I never kissed Becky. I haven’t kissed anybody since we, um, broke up.”

It’s the first time either of you have said it so plainly. There’s a wince on his face when he does. Small, but you catch it all the same.

“Robin said you were dating people, though.”

“Yeah, but I never kissed them. Ever. I couldn't.”

He slept with people—which was still hard—but to him, nothing feels as intimate as a kiss. He could never bring himself to cross that line with someone else. Not after how you would kiss him. The way everything else would melt away.

“I need you to know that. And I broke up with Becky because I couldn’t be with her without thinking of-” he stops, shakes his head, like he can’t get the words out. His eyes are holding onto yours when he says, “-someone else.”

“You climbed through my window just to tell me that?”

“I guess I did.”

He hadn’t thought about what comes next, what to do or say. Hell, he could barely even say what he meant in the first place. He wanted to say he’d been thinking of you, but the word got stuck in his throat. He hopes you can still read him enough to know what he meant.

“So, you were with Becky… why, exactly?”

“I thought- I don’t know. I thought I’d be able to push, um, someone else out of my mind if I was with her. I wasn’t, obviously.”

You’re practically speechless. Never would you have imagined that Steve was still thinking of you in any way, let alone so much so that he couldn’t fully give himself to anyone else.

Then again, you were never able to do that, either.

“I don’t know what to say,” you shrug, shoulder to your cheek.

“You don’t have to say anything, really,” he says, though there’s a sadness in his eyes that makes your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. You hate to be the one putting it there. “I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Steve. We aren’t together, I know that.”

He hasn’t been able to forget about that for a day. It’s like his life without you in it was a permanent winter. The snow never melting, the cold sinking into his bones. He hadn’t even realized it until you came back.

The wind picked up, frostbite ate away at him. Then, just like that, the sun was shining again. He hopes the snow will thaw soon.

He feels like an idiot right now. An idiot who can't spit out the right words and who can't leave you alone even when he knows he should.

“I should go.”

“Steve-”

“No, I’ll go. I’m sorry for dropping all of that on you.”

He’s turning his back to you, opening the window, worrying you all over again.

“You can stay.” Please, stay.

“I’m really sorry, Ace.”

Sorry for letting you go, sorry for disappearing, sorry for being a coward, sorry for fucking things up even now.

By the time you gather your wits enough to walk to the window, he’s crossing your lawn quickly. You watch him go until his figure fades into the night, the wind a low whisper in the air.

-

You do a lot of thinking that night, replaying the conversation over and over in your head. After what might be twenty minutes or two hours, you find you aren’t upset with Steve in the slightest. If anything, you’re worried.

And maybe, selfishly, a little hopeful, too.

It’s not even the breakup itself. It’s the way he spoke, the way his eyes lingered and his frustration seemed to soften just a little when he looked at you. It’s the way he had to make sure you knew he hasn’t kissed anyone since you, that he called and came over just to tell you that.

Maybe you should be angry, but all you feel when you think about Steve is something you’d convinced yourself was long gone. A feeling with wings, fluttering.

You decide that you need to talk to him again.

That decision has you walking through the door of Family Video early the next day, when you’re sure it won’t be busy. You had to double check with Robin that Steve was the one opening (you could practically see her knowing smirk through the phone), and sure enough, he stands behind the counter.

The bell above the door jingles, cutting through the silence of the store. Steve glances up to find you, rubbing his tired eyes to make sure you’re really there.

“Am I dreaming?” He says.

Steve was convinced you’d never want to see his face again after the shit he pulled last night. After dumping information on you that you hadn’t asked for, then leaving as soon as he got scared.

“If you are, so am I.”

“Robin’s not here.”

“I know. I wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to after…” he trails off, like he’s embarrassed to have to bring it up.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I feel like I should be asking you.”

“Steve.”

His name still sounds the best in your voice, he thinks.

“I’m okay, promise. Last night, I guess I just- I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. While I was gone.” Every single day since I left, I missed you.

You’ve both felt it for a long time, but now’s the first time someone’s been brave enough to say it. The words settle in the air for a moment, hanging between you.

“I’m sorry, Ace. For everything.”

You want to fall into his arms as easily as you used to, to squeeze him and tell him it’s okay, it can be okay, if you try hard enough. The counter standing between you stops you from it, maybe for the better.

“Do you think- do you think maybe we can be friends again?”

I don’t know if I can just be your friend, he thinks. Not after knowing what it’s like to kiss you and wake up beside you, to touch you and love you. If it’s the only way to keep you around, though, he’ll give it all he has.

“I’d like that.”

Your smile is almost shy, but it’s there.

“We used to be better at this. Talking, I mean,” you say, trying to be light.

“We’ll get better again.”

It’s quiet again, save for the murmur of whatever movie Steve chose for the morning playing on the TV.

“I hope you know I haven’t been, like, holding a grudge, or anything. I forgave you a long time ago.”

You had to, even when it still hurt, even when you still wonder why things changed so quickly. He’s a human as much as you are, and letting things fester for years wouldn't do either of you any good.

Still, like any wound, it still bleeds from time to time.

“Doesn’t change that I’m sorry, Ace.”

You shy away from the sincerity in his stare, from the brown in his eyes that could so easily draw you back into him completely.

He bends to catch your eye, though, making sure you know he means it.

-

Letting yourself get close to Steve again is easy, it’s the friendship that’s hard.

He’s a good friend, you see it in his interactions with everyone around you. He’s a good friend and still, you can’t stop thinking about the kind of boyfriend he is. Caring and loving, full of touches to give, a hand on you whenever it could be. You miss the warmth of that hand.

You keep that to yourself , though, because things are better. So much better.

You and Steve don’t avoid each other anymore, the smiles aren’t so forced or small, the words not so careful. The only subject you stay away from is the breakup, and even then, you don’t think about it so much now that he’s around again. You think about everything before that. The good and the in love, sticky and sweet.

Tonight, he’s convinced you to come along and chauffeur the kids to the arcade. In turn, you’ve convinced him to go inside with you.

The various neon lights bathe your skin, blues and oranges, pinks and greens. You can't help but think they glow a little nicer on Steve’s face.

“What’s the first game gonna be?” You turn to look at him over your shoulder as you walk between the rows of games.

“Your choice, Ace. This was your idea.”

“Fine by me,” you shrug a shoulder, grinning.

Falling into conversation with Steve proves to still feel natural. You’ve gotten the chance to spend time with him more since you talked that morning at Family Video, and it’s paid off. Light teasing and check-ins are what they used to be before.

The part that still makes your heart beat faster, almost like it’s trying to find his, is what hangs in the silence. There's knowledge there; the silence used to be comfortable, and now, it’s full of questions and tension. What’s too much? What crosses the line of friendship you’ve had to draw?

If you’re being honest, being Steve’s friend almost makes you miss him more. You had to do it this way, though, if only to protect yourself from losing him ever again.

You’ve been pushing away any thoughts of Steve as a boyfriend as far away as you can.

“Okay,” you stop in front of Pac-Man.

“A classic,” he nods, putting change into the slot. “Ladies first.”

“Scared, Harrington?”

“Of you?” He shakes his head. “Never.”

Of what he feels for you, maybe.

You play well, and Steve watches your hands move as you do. He watches your eyes as they flit about the screen, your tongue poking between your lips in concentration. Watches, still, when you throw your head back and groan when you lose.

“My turn,” he says, bumping you over with his hips.

Despite his confidence, Steve loses really, really fast.

“It’s broken,” he declares.

“It’s not,” you say. “Try again.”

“You just like to see me lose.”

You wiggle your way in front of him so that his arms cage you in, one on either side of you, leaning on the game. “I’ll show you.”

He hopes he isn’t breathing as hard as he thinks he is. He can feel the ghost of your back against his chest, so, so close. He slips another coin into the slot and lets you guide his hands to the controls.

His hands are just as warm as you remember. Solid and softer than they look. You refrain from interlocking your fingers with his and focus on guiding him through the game. It’d be so easy to hold his hand, though. Muscle memory.

This time around, even when the screen tells him ‘game over,’ Steve feels like he’s won something at the slightest bit of contact you’d initiated.

Dustin finds the two of you, still playing Pac-Man, and taps his wrist. Duty calls.

After dropping the kids off, the car much quieter, you let yourself look at Steve as he drives. His side profile, the slope of his nose and line of his jaw, the way he squints at road signs.

“You should be wearing your glasses,” you say. You’re not even sure if he still has them.

“You know I hate those things.”

It’s true, you do know that. He barely even wore them around you when you’d been dating. They made him shy, even though you told him he looks pretty either way, any way.

You find that you still know a lot of things.

You still know him. You know that he owns a pair of reading glasses. You know that he scratches the back of his neck when he’s nervous. You know that he knuckles at his eyes when he doesn’t get enough sleep. You know that he sunburns easiest on his nose, cheeks, and shoulders. You know him. All the small things, some he may not even know himself.

You might’ve missed some stuff, but really, you still know him. You still love him, too.

That realization hits you, a gust of wind strong enough to knock you off-balance if you weren’t sitting. You’ve been trying and trying to keep it all away. Yet, here you are, looking at the strand of hair that falls over Steve's forehead, realizing you love him all over again in the passenger seat of his BMW.

Maybe you never really stopped.

“Ace, did you hear me?”

“Hm?” You blink and suddenly he’s looking at you, too. And the car’s not moving. When did that happen?

“You zoned out on me, I think,” he runs a hand through his hair, pushing that strand you'd been focused on back into place. “We’re here.”

Your house, he means.

“Sorry. Thank you for driving,” you say, reaching for the handle and popping the door open. You bonk your head in your haste to get out.

“Shit! You okay?” He says, his hand reaching for you even though you’re too far to touch.

“Yup! Never better.”

Terrified by the four letter word that hasn’t left your head since it came back in, you can’t help but try to get away from Steve, from the boy who’s drawn the feeling from you in the first place without even trying. You hurry to the door with a rushed ‘bye!’

Steve stares at your front door even after you’ve closed it, eyebrows scrunched and mouth in a confused pout. He wonders what you were thinking about as he tried to grab your attention the whole way home.

-

Steve’s made a habit of visiting you at work.

If you’re working during the day, he’ll drive over on his lunch breaks and be sure to be seated in your section. If you’re working evenings, he’ll make some excuse about not wanting to cook dinner and still, he requests your section.

He‘s been coming so often that the hostesses don’t even wait for him to ask, they just nod and seat him at one of your tables.

You’ve had a lot of time to let your rediscovered love for Steve simmer, but it’s always there, making you smile like an idiot when you see him, making you stop yourself from reaching for his hand whenever it’s close enough.

It was naive of you to think you could limit yourself to friendly feelings for him. You know that now.

Walking out of the back, you find him sitting at what has become his usual table. A small round one, usually for two. The chair across from him empty. You like that better than when Becky was the one sitting in it.

“I’m starting to think you have no kitchen at all,” you say, standing behind the empty seat, leaning a hand on top of it.

“You caught me.”

“Seriously, you know you don’t have to come here to see me.”

“I want to come here to see you.”

Really, at this point, Steve thinks he’d be happy to visit you anywhere. Because of that, he’s definitely spending way too much money at Enzo’s.

“Okay then,” you tuck your hair behind your ear, then grab your notepad to write down his order. “What’ll it be this time?”

As much as Steve wishes you could sit down with him, he knows you have a job to do, so he gives you his order and takes any minute of conversation you can give him.

He watches you tend to the other tables you have, your smile and the way you talk, your mannerisms and the pattern of your steps. Often, he wonders if he’d still be sitting here, watching you with something in his eyes that can only be described as longing, if he never broke up with you that day. He likes to think he would be, only he’d be allowed to kiss you goodbye the way he so often wants to.

Maybe it’s wishful thinking to believe he could get to do that again, one day.

Since he felt your hands over his those weeks ago at the arcade, he’s decided he’ll do whatever it takes to win you back. He’ll wait as long as he needs to, and do his best to prove that he won’t hurt you again.

Steve’s never stopped loving you, not for a second, and seeing your face again only reminded him of that. Being your friend again only amplified it.

Even worse, all of your friends are well aware of this. They never let him hear the end of it.

“Here you go,” you say, putting his food in front of him.

He shoots you a quick smile, “thank you.”

“‘Course. And don’t bother paying this time, it’s on me.”

“Don’t do that, I’m paying.”

“I already did it, okay? Just shut up and let me.”

When you walk away, he shakes his head and smiles at your retreating figure. Classic Ace, he thinks, so insistent on doing nice things. Yeah, he’ll wait years if he has to.

You chat with him when you can, telling him about a customer who’d yelled at you earlier in your shift over something so small, you can’t even remember why they were angry in the first place. He laughed through your story and offered to find the person and beat them up for you.

You reminded him that he usually loses fights.

A stern talking to, then, he’d said.

You giggled. Laughs like that came easy with Steve.

You were busy when he left, but when you went over to clean his table you’d found enough money left behind to pay for his food and give you a tip. You rolled your eyes at that. That’s Steve, always being the one to take care of everyone else. He can’t even let you pay for one damm meal.

He’d also left a note scrawled on a Family Video sticky note.

Thanks for letting me bug you again. Hope you’re not sick of me! -Steve x (and keep your money, please).

You folded it into a neat square and put it in your back pocket. This was a habit of his, too; leaving notes behind after he’d leave. So far, you’ve kept them all, in that same shoebox in your closet from high school.

You’re absolutely hopeless.

-

Steve didn’t have an excuse to call you, he just really wanted to see you. Or, hear your voice, at least.

“Hello?” You picked up after a couple rings.

“Ace. You busy today?”

“Mmm apart from laying down all day, no.”

“You wanna come lay down all day here?”

If he couldn’t hear you then, you would drop your face into your pillow and squeal. Instead, you press your free hand to your cheek and try to suppress your stupid grin.

“I guess I can shuffle some things around.”

“You’re awful,” he says. “I’ll see you soon?”

“Yep.”

A click and it’s quiet again.

It’s not even half an hour later that you’re knocking on the Harrington’s door. Steve opens up quickly (he’d been standing near the door waiting for you) and moves aside to let you in.

Steve scans your outfit as you walk ahead of him. You’re clad in slouchy sweats. He thinks you look beautiful. He thinks it all of the time, but there’s something about you being comfortable enough with him not to dress up that warms him from the inside out.

It reminds him of how you used to walk around his house, whenever his parents weren’t there, in your underwear and his softest t-shirt.

Baby steps, he thinks.

“Are you hungry?” He asks as you plop down onto his couch.

“I'm okay. A little tired.”

“I did ruin your plans of laying around, didn't I?”

“Ruin’s not the right word,” you say. You’d much rather be in his company than buried in your bed, anyway.

He sits next to you after turning on the TV, letting whatever’s playing stay on. There’s a respectable distance between you, your thighs close, but not touching.

“Are you happy you came back here?” Steve turns his head toward you. Here, as in Hawkins. Here, as in with him.

Your head pivots toward him, cheek on your shoulder. Your eyes find his. “Yes. Really happy.”

“Me too.”

There are a million things you could say, but then, in that moment, it feels like you don’t have to. Something silent is being shared. You look back at the TV and sink into the cushions.

As time goes on, your eyes grow heavier, blinking slowly trying to stay awake. Steve notices when your head falls forward a little and you force it back up.

“You’re tired.”

“Worked the closing shift last night.”

“You can lay down. I meant it when I said you

could do that here.”

“I’ll fall asleep.”

“That’s kinda the point.”

You frown at him. “But then you’ll be all alone.”

“Just lay down, Ace.”

You roll your eyes but do it anyway. You’d actually been ready to nap when Steve called, but figured sleep could wait.

He tries not to overthink it when he gently places a hand on the side of your head, urging you to use his lap as your pillow. You go easily and blame it on your sleepy mind.

Instinctively, once you’re settled with your cheek on his thigh, Steve pets your hair from your face. He pulls his hand back, afraid of overstepping, but you miss his touch.

“No, don’t. Feels nice.”

“Okay,” he almost whispers.

Steve’s hand goes back to your hair, pushing it from your face, letting his fingers get tangled in it before pulling them back and doing it again. You fall asleep quickly, surrounded by Steve’s scent.

You nap for about forty minutes. Steve’s hand doesn’t stop at all, afraid that you’d wake up. He hasn’t paid much attention to the TV. Instead, he’s been tracing the details of your face over and over with his eyes.

Your eyelashes kissing the skin of your under eyes, the slope of your nose, the way your lips are slightly parted and pouting. He’s known it for years now, but you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

All soft and, by his standard, absolutely perfect.

Self-indulgently, he lets his hand wander from your hair, the back of his index finger tracing a delicate line from your forehead, down your nose, and across your cheek. You stir and he feels guilty.

“Did I wake you?”

You blink your eyes open and squint, turning so you lay on your back rather than your side, looking up at him. “Nuh-uh,” you say, even though he did.

If you were woken up like that every day, well, you’d become a morning person.

“Liar.”

“Am not.” He shakes his head, you yawn. “How long did I sleep?”

“Not long. You feel better?”

“Much,” you nod, even though there’s a kink in your neck from the way you had it perched on his lap. You don’t care, it was the best sleep you’d had for a while.

You sit up and stretch until something cracks.

“Thanks for being my pillow.”

“Steve Harrington, human pillow, at your service.”

You push his shoulder lightly, “dork.”

You both laugh lightly. The sound fades when you realize how close your faces are. You reach up and brush the skin under his eye with your thumb.

“Eyelash,” you explain.

“Make a wish.”

When you were young, you wished on every birthday cake candle, every shooting star, that you’d find your person. Then, in your time with Steve, you wished to keep it. Now, as you blow the lash off your finger, you wish to have it back.

“Done.”

“What’d you wish for?”

“If it ever comes true, I’ll tell you.”

He nods, the tips of your noses brush. You can't stop your eyes from flicking to his mouth with him this close, you can feel his breaths, warm puffs of air against your skin.

Steve’s hand creeps up to cradle the back of your neck so gently you could cry. He uses it to guide you forward until your forehead is pushed against his.

“Steve.”

The whisper of his name is what snaps the rubber band. Steve tips your head up and kisses you.

It’s everything you remembered, and everything you’d forgotten, too. His lips are still soft, they still fit with yours the way puzzle pieces click together. Over time, you forgot how his feelings poured out of him when he’d kiss you. Now, he’s shy with it, slow-moving.

He pulls away, just for a second, to look at you, to check that you’re okay. You chase his mouth and he’s a goner, diving back in and inhaling deep at the feeling.

You can feel yourself melting into him, getting lost in the press of his lips against yours.

It hits you that Steve hasn’t kissed anyone since he was with you. That it’s been years since he’s last done this. I haven’t kissed anybody since we, um, broke up.

This is a big thing. Kissing Steve again is a big and scary thing. His free hand laying itself on your thigh jolts you out of it. You pull away, breathing heavy.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, pulling his hands away. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, no. It’s just- I shouldn’t have done that.”

You’re supposed to be pushing your feelings aside. You’re supposed to be friends, that’s it. You’re not supposed to let it get to this point again, because you know how it feels when it ends. That can’t happen again.

“No, Ace. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.”

“Please, don’t be sorry, okay?” You stand up, almost dizzy. “I’m just gonna go, I think.”

“Hey, come on. Stay. It won’t happen again.”

“I just need to, um, clear my head.”

You hurry to the door, trying to slip your shoes on as fast as possible. Steve catches your wrist loosely as you reach for the door.

“You can talk to me. You don’t have to leave.”

“I need to think, Steve,” you open the door. This time, he lets you. Before you close it you turn to him, “I’m not mad, I promise.”

All he can do is nod slowly and stare at the door long after you’ve closed it.

-

You meant it: you’re not mad. Well, not at Steve. You’re mad at yourself, really, for letting yourself fall for him again, for making yourself remember exactly how it feels to kiss him.

You’re not mad at Steve and yet, you haven’t been alone with him since that day. It’s for your own good, you hope. You don’t want to let yourself be with him again because you know what it feels like to lose him. It hurts and it sucks and you’d rather love him quietly than feel that ever again.

It’s game night at the Wheeler’s now, and so far, you’ve lost pretty much every game. You find it doesn’t bother you all that much when you’re around such good people.

As Nancy shuffles Uno cards, you stand, “skip me this round. I gotta pee.”

“Thank you for announcing that,” Dustin says.

“You’re welcome, Dusty,” you ruffle his hair on your way to the bathroom.

Once you’re washing your hands, you inspect yourself in the mirror. Your hair’s frizzier than you’d like and your mascara’s smudged under your eyes. You use your pinky, wet with tap water, to wipe it away.

You unlock and open the door and find Steve leaning against the wall in the hallway. Not expecting anyone to be there, you jump.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, laughing lightly.

“Why’re you standing there?”

“Waiting for the bathroom.”

You don’t point out that there are more than one bathrooms in the Wheeler’s house. Instead, you move out of the doorway and let him go in. Only, he doesn’t move.

“Okay, I lied,” he confesses. “I was waiting for you.”

“Oh. Well, here I am.”

“Yeah,” he looks you over, like he can’t help it. “Will you come home with me? So we can talk about…”

As much as you wish you could just forget about that kiss, you can’t. It hasn’t left your mind for more than five minutes at a time. Often, you find yourself pressing your fingers to your mouth, searching for the ghost of his. Besides, how can you say no to Steve saying the words ‘will you come home with me’?

“Okay,” you say quietly, then, more sure, “okay, sure.”

You walked there, and though you’d usually much prefer the comfort of the BMW, you can’t help but worry about what he wants to say the rest of the night.

Once you’ve said your goodbyes and walk towards Steve’s car, you can almost feel Robin’s knowing smile as she watches you climb into the passenger seat.

The drive feels like a dream in the sense that you blinked and it ended. You suppose time can fly when you’re lost in thought, in what-ifs.

You only realize you’ve made it to Steve’s house when you hear the click of the gearshift and the quiet of the engine shutting off that follows. You follow him inside, watching the way he fiddles with his keys, his hand flicking on the lights inside.

He leads you to his bedroom. He knows he could’ve stopped in the kitchen or the living room, but he’s most comfortable in the only room that feels completely his in the house. He needs to be comfortable for this.

You sit on the edge of his bed, and he leans on the dresser across from you.

There’s an anticipation almost humming in the air. Who will speak first, what will they say.

“So-”

“Listen-”

You speak at the same time.

“You first,” Steve offers.

“I’m sorry for running out like that. I was just overwhelmed, I guess. Had to think.”

“Don’t be sorry, please. I feel like I should be apologizing to you.”

For so much more than just that kiss. Then again, he’s not really sorry for kissing you, he’s only sorry for possibly hurting you with it.

“We were doing so good.” He furrows his brows at you in question. “At just being friends.”

“I don’t think I could ever look at you as just a friend, Ace. Not after knowing what it’s like to have you.”

You want to tell him you feel the same, you want to tell him so bad. The words are stuck in your throat. You’re so afraid, so nervous, for what could happen if you try this again.

“Do you regret kissing me?” You ask instead.

“I know I should, but I can’t regret anything with you.”

“I don’t regret it, either.”

The room seems to shrink, the air thicken. Steve’s hands clench on the edge of the dresser, holding himself back, almost.

You don’t think you want him to hold back. You want to slap yourself for it, but you’ve missed the way his kiss melted you every day since you felt it. Maybe, if you can’t tell him, you can show him how you feel.

“Kiss me again,” you say.

“What?”

He must have heard you wrong. Only, when you repeat yourself, he knows he didn’t.

“You’re sure?” He checks.

All you can do is nod, almost eagerly. He pushes off from the dresser and stands in front of you. Your knees brush against the fabric of his jeans as he moves closer. His hands gently cup your face, tilt it up so you’re looking at him.

His eyes flick between yours, and when you nudge your cheek into his hand, like an encouragement, he bends down to place his lips over yours.

It starts gently, like the last one. Steve’s lips glide over yours slowly, making sure you don’t want to pull away. It feels like high school and sneaking through windows, like popcorn kisses at the movies and the feeling of Skull Rock behind your back. It feels like the past and yet, there’s an emotion there that wasn’t before.

Longing, knowing what it feels like to lose this.

It’s gentle until your hands snake their way under Steve’s shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin, the sunshine pouring out of him. That’s when his hold on your face becomes a bit more firm, one of his thumbs pushing on your chin to get you to open it for him.

That’s when the dam seems to break.

Steve kisses you deeper and deeper, pushing himself closer and closer until you’re being laid down on the bed. He pulls away from you, his lips kiss-swollen and pink, to give you space to push yourself up to his pillows.

He tugs his shirt off before climbing over you, his hands digging into the mattress on either side of your head, his brown eyes darkened.

“You okay?” He checks.

“Yes,” you nod, “I missed you.”

You wind your arms around his neck and pull him back to you, his mouth finding yours easily. It’s been a long time since you’ve done this with Steve, but the rhythm of it all comes easily. It’s hard to forget someone when you’ve spent so long learning what they like.

He kisses you enough to feel dazed, your head a jumble of SteveSteveSteve and your hips canting towards his unconsciously. He’d been holding his weight off of you before that, but feeling you brush against him had him pushing his hips against yours, pinning you to the bed.

You broke the kiss only to catch your breath, and Steve took the time to push wet kisses down your jawline, to your neck, breathing heavy in between them.

Selfishly, possessively, he tugs the neckline of your shirt down and sucks a hickey into your collarbone, licking over it when he’s done. Your hands have buried themselves in his hair at some point, and you feel his groan against your skin when you tug.

He moves down still, pushing your shirt up to bunch underneath your bra and peck his way across your stomach.

“Steve,” you almost whine.

He peeks up at you, “yeah, baby?”

Baby. He hasn’t called you that in years. The sound of the pet name in his voice is enough to have the dampness in your panties grow.

“You’re teasing me.”

“You used to like that,” he pouts.

“It’s been too long. Please.”

He’s trying to act composed on the outside when really, the word ‘please’ leaving your mouth is enough to have him push his crotch into the mattress.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says. His hand pauses on the waistband of your pants, “can I?”

“Yes.”

He unbuttons them and tugs down the zipper, sits up on his knees to pull them down and off your legs, your socks and underwear follow.

Steve can’t believe this is happening, he can’t believe you’re there, on his bed, looking so pretty for him. He resists the urge to pinch himself.

You grow shy under his stare, his eyes focused where you’re embarrassingly wet all because of him. You try to shut your legs, but he stops you with a hand on your knee, “you’re beautiful, Ace. You don’t need to hide. It’s just me.”

You’re not sure how to tell him the reason you care so much is because it’s him of all people. Steve who you’ve known for so long, Steve who you used to have, like this. Steve, who you love.

He lays down between your legs, his arms wrapping around your thighs, thumbs running back and forth soothingly across your skin. He kisses up your thighs and pauses when his breath hits your cunt. He glances up at you for permission.

You nod, a hand finding one of his on your leg and weaving your fingers together.

You try to keep your head up to be able to see him, but as soon as he runs his tongue up your slit it falls back into the pillow, a gasp escaping you. You squeeze his hand in yours.

Steve works you quickly, so much so that it’s clear he hasn’t forgotten a single thing about you.

His tongue runs over you again and again, your slick surely all over his mouth. When it hits the bead of your clit, your free hand is in his hair again. He grunts into you at the pull, and you can’t help but moan at the feeling of it all.

When your hand squeezes his even tighter, Steve moves his free hand to your entrance, his mouth hit around your clit. He works a finger in, then a second. He curves them and searches until he finds the spot that makes you whimper out a noise he wants to hear again.

“Steve,” his name a breathy moan.

“Go on, baby. I can feel it. You wanna come?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“I've got you.”

He works his fingers quicker, puts his mouth back on you and flicks his tongue and just like that you’re being pushed over the edge, your eyes squeezing shut and your hands holding him even tighter.

He watches as you come down, his cheek against your thigh, “so pretty.”

You manage a lazy smile, taking your hand out of his hair, “sorry. Did that hurt?”

“I liked it. You know that.”

He moves back up until his face is above yours, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on him.

Your hands trail down his back, his muscles shifting as he holds himself up. They land on the waistband of his jeans, tracing it around to his stomach, letting your fingers go further, feeling the skin just above his underwear.

You pull back from his mouth to glance down to where your fingers run back and forth over his skin, pausing to undo the button of his jeans.

“Who’s teasing now?” He says, voice low in your ear.

A shrug is your reply, followed by his zipper being pulled down slowly. His head bends to watch your hands work his pants and boxers down enough to free him, his cock hard and pink at the tip, pretty as ever.

You wrap a hand around him, “better?”

“Much.”

You work him slowly, like you’re trying to remember the feeling of him, your hand pausing at the tip to let your thumb run over it.

Steve tried to remember the way your hand felt against him when he was desperate and alone. Now, having you again, he knows his imagination could never do you justice. You’re soft in a way he never could be.

When you squeeze him a bit tighter, moving a bit quicker, he drops his head onto your shoulder, groaning.

“Ace.”

“Uh-huh?”

“If you keep doing that I’m gonna come,” he picks his head up, sets his eyes on yours, “I don’t wanna come like this.”

“Feels nice in my hand, though.”

“I can make it feel a whole lot better, if you’ll let me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want you, Ace.”

“I want you, too.”

He pecks your lips quickly before standing to take his pants off fully. You take your shirt and bra off at the same time. It makes you nervous to be naked in front of him again, and the way he looks at you doesn’t help. It’s a searing gaze, almost burning your skin.

“Look at you,” he whispers, almost like he was saying it to himself.

He climbs over you once more when you make hands at him. His skin is warm, mirroring the way you feel all over. Steve tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, trails his hand down your neck, to your chest. He cups you in his palm, squeezing lightly then letting a thumb run over your nipple.

You bite back a whimper.

His mouth gives the tit that isn’t in his hand attention, pecking and sucking and licking.

“Steve,” you push your hips up.

“Sorry, baby. Missed these girls, too.”

You roll your eyes.

He kisses your cheek and takes the hand off your chest to hold himself, running his head up and down your slit, wetting it with your slick. When he pauses at your entrance, he looks at you.

“You’re still okay? Still want this?”

You nod, hands running in circles on the back of his shoulders, “yes. I’m ready.”

He’s big, and the stretch of him pushing into you is sharper now that you’re not used to it. He soothes you with sweet words and soft kisses to your neck.

Halfway, he checks in, “good?”

You wrap your legs around his thighs and pull him in the rest of the way, whining when his pelvis is against yours.

“Fuck,” he says into the skin of your neck, just below your ear. “You’re heaven, Ace.”

“Move, Steve,” your hands tighten on his shoulders. “Please.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice, pulling back slowly only to push in again. You can feel everything, you think. Maybe because it’s been so long or because sex with someone you love is better than any other sex. Maybe it’s just Steve.

He’s all over you. His hair tickling your chin, his mouth open against your neck, breaths hot against your skin. He’s in your mind and in your heart and in you, deeper than anyone else. You feel so full. Of him, of emotion, of memories of nights you used to have just like this one.

Full of him in every way.

“God, you’re perfect,” he says. “There’s nobody like you. No one, Ace.”

“I-” love you, you almost say. “Steve.”

The pitch of your voice tells him to go faster, and he lifts his head to see your face. Mouth agape, soft moans and breaths spilling out, eyebrows scrunched, eyes falling shut when he finds your spot.

“Open your eyes,” he says, softly. “Come on, baby.”

You do, blinking them open and looking up at him. His hair is a mess around his head, sweaty strands falling over his forehead, his cheeks are flushed pink and you’re sure they’d be warm to the touch.

He drops his forehead against yours, your sounds and breaths mingling between your mouths, your noses nudging against each other with every push of his hips.

Your arms go around his neck, one hand tangling itself in the hair at the nape of his neck. You’re getting closer and closer and by the way his movements grow just a bit faster, a bit sloppier, he is, too.

“Ace. Baby, you’re there, yeah? I can feel you squeezing me,” his lips brush yours as he speaks.

“So close, Steve.”

He’s holding himself up on one elbow, trailing his free hand down to rub circles over your clit. “Come on.”

You finish with a cry of his name, your eyes squeezing shut. It’s overwhelming, the feelings that blind you. The pleasure and the affection, the heat and the love you really don’t think you could imagine. So much so that tears slip from the corners of your eyes.

He’s not far behind, “shit. Where do you want me?”

In your haze, you can barely manage a reply, “tummy.”

He pulls out and jerks himself until you can feel him coming on your skin. He moans and it’s a beautiful sound. You run your hands over his skin through it all, grounding him and yourself.

Your foreheads are still together, slick with sweat.

“Fuck,” he pecks you once, twice, three times. “You okay?”

“Really good.”

“Will you stay?”

You hadn’t even thought of leaving. You wouldn’t dream of it. Not now, at least, in your post-orgasm daze where fears and worries don’t reach you.

“Mhm,” you hum your agreement.

Steve’s grin splits his cheeks, wide and toothy and infectious enough to make you smile, too.

“I’ll be right back,” he rolls away from you, standing beside the bed. Before walking away, he bends to peck you again. He heads to the bathroom after that.

You note the freckles that dot his back and shoulders as he goes. A constellation you never forgot; burned in your memory. One you used to play connect the dots with in the mornings.

He comes back with a wet cloth, wiping his come from your stomach and then cleaning you up as gently as possible, giving a soft apology when you whimper in sensitivity.

He tosses the cloth aside when he’s done and searches his drawers for a clean pair of boxers. He tugs them on then finds a baggy sleep shirt for you. You watch him the whole time, the way he moves and the way the streetlights seeping in through the window light his skin.

Coming back to you, he tells you to sit up and puts the shirt over your head. He didn’t even have to ask, he knows what you like to sleep in. When you look at the shirt he picked, you find it’s one that used to be your favorite.

You bring the fabric to your nose and hide your grin in it.

Steve pulls the blankets over you, then himself when he lays down beside you. He doesn’t even hesitate before tugging you closer with an arm around your waist.

“I really missed you, Ace.”

“Missed you, Steve,” you reply sleepily.

He kisses your forehead.

You fall asleep easily, Steve’s fingers running back and forth over your skin, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear.

-

Steve wakes up before you do.

You’ve both moved in your sleep. Now, you lay on your stomach, face turned towards him and cheek squished into the pillow. He lays on his side, propped up by his elbow, looking at you.

He looks at you, asleep and pretty, and wonders how he could ever give you up.

His free hand tucks your hair behind your ear, away from your face, brushes his knuckles across your cheeks as lightly as possible. He moves to your arm and traces the words ‘I love you’ into your skin.

He draws the words over and over, only pulling his hand away when you rouse.

You breathe in deep before opening your eyes, moving your head on the pillow to look over at Steve properly. His eyes are already set on you, puffy with sleep and full of something you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

“Hi,” his voice is different in the morning, lower.

“Hi.”

“Sleep okay?”

“Mhm,” you stretch your legs and turn onto your side. “You?”

“Better than I have in a while, actually.”

You can tell that there’s something he wants to say, that he’s thinking of the words. It makes you nervous, your stomach twisting uncomfortably. Maybe he regrets it. Almost worse, maybe he doesn’t.

“Can I say something?”

“Steve-”

“No, let me say it. If you hate it, we can forget about it, okay?”

His eyes are soft, pleading. You can tell that whatever it is, it really matters to him and there’s no way you can ignore that.

“Okay.”

“I still love you.”

His words hang in the air, your chests both rise and fall a bit quicker, hearts beating faster in tandem.

You’ve been dreaming of him saying it to you, and yet, hearing it out loud, you can’t help but be terrified. You love him, you know you do, and it scares you. It’ll hurt worse the second time around if you lose him.

“I still love you,” he continues in your silence. “I miss you so much, Ace. I want to do it again. I want to be with you and do it right.”

“I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You didn’t. You won’t. I’ve thought of you every day since you left,” his hand finds yours atop the sheets, fingers linking. “I didn’t want to break up with you, and I never wanted to hurt you.”

“Why did you?”

He squeezes his eyes shut for a second. Squeezes your hand, too.

“I thought I was doing the right thing. You were going off to school and I’d be here and I didn’t want to hold you back. I wanted you to go and to do it fully.”

Your heart pinches in your chest. Steve really believed he’d been doing you a favor by letting you go.

“It hurt for a long time, Steve. I don’t know if I can do that again.”

“I’m not gonna hurt you again, Ace,” he swipes away the tear that falls from your cheek. “Just answer one thing for me?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

It’s the most obvious answer in the world.

“Of course I love you, Steve. I would’ve stayed if you asked me to.”

“That’s why I did it,” his thumb runs over your cheek gently. “I couldn't let you give it all up for me. But you’re back now, and I love you and you love me. Let me try again.”

You want to say yes. So badly, you want to be with him. So why can't you just say it? It’s like glue’s been dropped down your throat, sticking all the right words in it so that nothing useful comes out. You try anyway.

“I’m just scared.”

You shut your eyes.

“Will you look at me?” You do, and right then it’s hard to feel scared anymore. He’s looking at you like he’s never been more sure of anything. “You’re my forever. I know you are. Let me show you.”

You focus on his hand in yours, his touch on your face. You focus on the fact that this is Steve. Steve who you love, who you know you want to be with past all the fear and worry.

“Okay,” you nod.

“Okay? Like, you’ll be my girl again?”

“Yes, yeah.”

His grin spreads wide enough to have his eyes crinkling at the corners. He rushes forward to kiss you, three quick pecks broken by your smiles.

“Can I tell you something?” You ask him, suddenly brave, like his kiss fixed everything.

“Anything.”

“I wished for you. On that eyelash. The day we kissed.”

He kisses you again for that.

༄

thank u for reading! if you enjoyed it please consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought it would mean a bunch <3

[elfwitchtrickster]

Combat Training - Loki x reader oneshot

Summary: Loki and the reader are paired up for combat training

Loki reluctantly lined up with the other avengers as Steve and Natasha stood in front of them. "Welcome back to your weekly combat training" Steve announced. "Since we spent the last three weeks covering different attack strategies I figured this week we can just practise sparring which will give you a chance to revise everything you've learnt" he said, Loki fought the urge to shape-shift into Steve and mock the patriotic hero. "Alright so we're

gonna pair you up and we can get to work" Natasha said clapping her hands. They walked along the line pairing up the superheroes, Loki zoned out as he impatiently waited for his turn. "Okay and Loki I'm gonna have you with Y/N"

Steve said, gesturing down the line. Loki raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar name and leaned forward to see who Steve was pointing at.

There was a large variety of superheroes at the compound, in different sizes shapes and forms yet what Loki saw before him was certainly unexpected. Smiling at him from down the line was a short, dark clad woman with H/C hair. A smirk grew on his face as he looked his opponent up and down. He would defeat this tiny mortal in less than a minute and he wouldn't even have to mess up his hair he thought snidely. She stepped forward when Steve introduced her. "Y/N is a stealth and intelligence officer so she's here for her monthly mandatory training session" he explained. Loki nodded already bored even though they hadn't even started.

Eventually they walked off, Y/N finding an empty space on the padded floor. Loki followed her with a mischievous smile. She shifted into a fighting stance and waited for Loki to make the first move. He sighed in an exasperated way and stepped forward opting for a swift punch. To his surprise before his fist made contact she had moved to the side. Unfazed he tried again this time trying to knock her off balance but once again, she evaded his attempt. Loki stopped an expression of shock from crossing his face. She had simply gotten lucky he told himself and now moved in for a much more complex manoeuvre that would end with her on the ground. He managed to successfully lift her into the air and bring her back down, but before he could secure her place on the mat she had wriggled out of his grip. Loki huffed in annoyance and Y/N smiled cheekily, the action only irritated the God of Mischief more as he squared up for another attack.

After several more attempts Loki's hair was falling over his face as he pushed himself back to a standing position. While Y/N had not achieved a completed attack against Loki, she had managed to escape all of his. Loki was practically boiling at this point, his frustration threatening to boil over and explode on the smaller girl. The whole time Y/N giggled each time she dodged a punch which only added to the god's vexation. Thankfully, she asked for a water break which allowed Loki to have a minute to himself. He took a deep breath in, in an effort to calm himself, breathing out slowly. 'It's just like a training session in Asgard' he murmured quietly. 'You're having fun'

When they returned to sparring Loki's attitude change could not have been more drastic. While on the surface he continued to act disinterested or annoyed at her countless parries, he secretly found himself enjoying it. He had never contended with someone who had such a unique fighting style and it intrigued the god greatly. In fact as they went back and forth he couldn't help the smile the crept onto his face. As he examined Y/N's movements he tried to ignore the warm sensation in his chest that came with each of her giggles. If it wasn't for his ego he might have considered letting her win a round.

Finally Loki glanced at the clock realising they only had a few more minutes. Some of the other pairs were beginning to shake hands and walk off the mats but lucky for him, Y/N hadn't realised yet. He had to act fast so he tapped into his more magical strategies. He used his powers to temporarily freeze her in place and once he managed to get ahold of her, he pinned the girl against the wall. She gasped as his hands held hers together above her head, pressing them against the wall. It was then that Loki realised just how close they were. His chests heaved, up and down, he was sure Y/N could feel his breath fanning her face. When he looked down at her she had a stunned expression which he met with his signature smirk. It took a moment for her to recover but once she did, she smiled back at him. Loki found himself being drawn to Y/N leaning in, he caught sight of her lips below his. He felt the softness of her skin and the warmth of her touch, the intensity of her gaze almost made him melt. His lips just seconds away, his eyes fluttered closed before

A piercing whistle met his ears, making both of them flinch. "Let's go reindeer games, you can practice more next week" Stark said pointing to his watch. Loki reluctantly let go of her hands and moved back, allowing her to step off of the wall. "We will continue this some other time" he said, winking before he walked off. As he turned back to look at her one last time he saw the pink hue that had covered her cheeks and the wide grin she sported. She waved at him and Loki exited the gym, eagerly anticipating their next meeting

I know this was short but whatever

[yikesharringrove]

Steve and Billy furniture shopping for their first apartment and Billy keeps measuring the kitchen tables heights and like pushing on them to test their strength and Steves like what are you doing? and billy, as he finds the right table, just licks his teeth and says i guess youll have to find out

Billy hadn't been picky about any of the other furniture in their new place.

He barely voiced on opinion on the bedframe, and only picked one second-hand couch over another because he said it had better ass feel. He didn't care which chairs they got for the dining room (mismatched ones) or that the dresser for their bedroom was the ugliest shade of babyshit yellow ever seen by human eyes.

But for some fucking reason, he cared way too much about the goddamn dining room table.

"Billy, this one's fine." Sure, it was a little flimsy. Definitely not real solid wood, but that was good. That was within their budget. It sat eight people and would be perfect for DnD campaigns, what more could they ask for?

"We just need to keep looking. It's not right."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"We've been to every single thrift store within a twenty-mile radius, this one is fine."

Billy pressed on the table again, shoving it around. It scraped against the floor, causing several people to whip their heads around to see who made the horrible screeching.

Steve was fucking mortified.

"God, if you don't like this one, then let's just go."

"Hang on, shithead." Billy rounded the table, pressing against the next one in the same way. He was standing at the head of it, feeling how high it came up against his thigh, pushing and knocking on it. "I like this one."

Yeah. The expensive one. The one that says it's solid oak and costs four times as much as the other one.

"Billy, no."

"No, Stevie. This is it. This is the one." And he looked Steve dead in the eye, and thrust his hips ever so slightly against the table. "This'll do nicely."

"What do you even mean by that? What are you doing?"

He looked Steve up and down, checking him out in that insatiable way that always makes Steve a little bit hard and a little bit sweaty.

"You'll have to find out."

He grinned at Steve, licking over his teeth, and moving past him to flag down an employee, shoulder-checking Steve on his way past because he knows Steve likes being knocked around a little bit.

-

Billy was nearly attacking him the second they heaved the table up the two flights of stairs, and wrestled it through the doorway into their apartment.

It was two bedroom, with cheap laminate floors throughout. It didn't have AC, the shower was a joke, and the kitchen was minuscule, but it was all theirs.

The had decided the smaller bedroom would be a good dining space. It was right off the main living area, with large double doors. Steve had been hoping for a space to bring their friends over. To cook for them and have game nights.

And apparently, Billy had been hoping for this.

"Bend over the table."

Steve grabbed a fistful of blond hair, tugging Billy back to glare at him.

"You absolute psycho! Did you seriously make us buy a giant table we can't afford, just so you can fuck me on it?"

Billy narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, please. Like you don't have some little housewife fantasy. Making me dinner and setting the table all nice. Letting me fuck you while our food gets cold."

"That was one roleplay."

Steve rolled his eyes as hard as he could.

And bent over the table.

[calumfmu]

drunk!steve harrington x fem!reader

(fluff; wc- >1k)

okay but can you imagine being at a party, laying in a random bedroom, trying to stop the world from spinning around you. you’d been laying there for the past 30 minutes in the dark, praying that the drunkness was waring off at that point. it had actually started to work until you heard someone stumble into the room.

the lights still off you couldn’t tell who the person was until they threw themselves next to you and turned on the bedside lamp.

“oh hello” you heard the voice say next to you, looking up it was steve harrington, boy toy. he was in his classic, knit sweater pushed up to the elbows, khaki, white converse. you would never admit it to anyone but his classic was the type of stuff you saw in your dreams at night.

you didn’t know how to speak to him. he hadn’t looked your direction—ever, and the only reason you were in the same vicinity was because one of your friends begged you to go so she can get sight of eddie.

“what do you want?” there was a bite behind your voice, slight albeit still there. steve made a small frown, lip jutting out in an over exaggerated pout.

“that’s not very nice of you” he sighed, scooting down so his head was at eye level with you. his hair fanned out around his head, hands crossed gracefully across his chest. he was drunk, glazed eyes blinking slowly at the spinning ceiling fan.

“i had the room first.”

he turned his head to look at you before shifting his body so he was facing you, the both of you curled into each others directions.

“and i had it second, yn.”

your heart made a jump, falling into your stomach as you realized he knew your name.

“you see, i was hoping,” he began, voice deep with the drowsy effect of the alcohol on his system. hiccups teetered on every other word of his. “that i could just lay here and ac-” hiccup “-quaint myself with a new” hiccup “friend.”

you quirked an eyebrow at the ‘friend’. he chuckled, noticing the expression.

“okay fine. im piss drunk,” and another hiccup “i can’t focus on anything right now and just really need to sober up”

and there he was, classic steve. you rolled your eyes, humored by him. a conversation quipped up between the two of you, beginning at the topic of small talk at the party to more, intricate details of your personal lives.

the things you talked about that night were miscellaneous, random thoughts. they were topics you both clicked on though, laughter echoing through the room as his poorly constructed dad jokes interrupted your stories. he was funny after all you discovered. there was more up there in that brain other than the farrah fawcett hairspray fumes.

“yn?” he asked, laughter still on his breath. you stared up into his eyes, watched as they crinkled at the corners.

“im glad i met you tonight.”

biting your lip in excitement, you flushed in the face—red pooling at your cheeks.

“me too, steve.”

“you’re beautiful, yn,” he continued, voice dropped into a whisper. his face was closer to yours, your gaze falling down to look at his lips. “truly so… so beautiful”

he leaned in slowly, glancing into your eyes once more before his lips met yours. it was unsure at first, steve testing the waters as you leaned into the kiss further. as you took his lips between yours, you wish you could say that it was fireworks, something you’d seen described in a teeny magazine—but it was so much more. it was a pulsing sensation throughout your entire body, a proclamation of a feeling you had never explained before.

he pulled away after a moment, licking the taste of you off of his lips. steve placed a small peck on you again, before shutting his eyes with again with a smile.

he sighed, contentment behind his voice, “time to sleep, yn.”

and you closed your eyes, tucking your face into his chin, corner of your mouth tugging into a small smile. you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to not be giddy over the moment. a giggle threatened to explode from you but you fought it back, chewing the inside of your lip. his arm came to lay at your waist, steve sighing as he made himself comfortable as well.

and if the two of you fell asleep face to face that night, no one would know. his arm draped over your waist, nose pressed into the top of your hairline as you curled up into him.

you two wouldn’t talk about it come monday morning when school was in session. you would walk by him and he by you, arm wrapped around a different girl than the previous week. you would spare glances at each other, small smile on your face as you saw him wink in your direction, hidden from his group of friends.

that night was something special between the two of you, something that couldn’t be taken away. it was a secret you both shared, a memory meant that would only be dreamt of at night in the dark of each other’s rooms.

[yelenasdiary]

Here is an yelena request. It was an idea first but since you want requests for her.

Reader giving intersex yelena a blow job while she does homework or work. Not letting yelena cum until she finishes her work. Which of course yelena has a hard time doing. 🤭

Don't Talk Back!

Pairing: Brat! Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: Yelena is behind on mission reports, so you give her a little help

Smut, 18+ Only! Minors & Men, DNI!

Warnings: Dom! Reader, Sub! Yelena, Oral (Yelena Receiving), Yelena has a penis, Mommy Kink, Slight degradation, Slight Exhibitionism | 1.3K

Translations: нужно кончить (need to cum)

AC: I hope you enjoy this! Thank you for sending it x

"Yelena, you're late on these, I need them by the end of the day" Natasha spoke sternly as you entered the conference room to find your girlfriend unimpressed with her sister's stubbornness. "What's going on?" You asked, placing the store brought sandwich on the table next to Yelena. 

"Yelena is late on some mission reports, maybe you can convince her to find them before the end of the day otherwise it's my arse that's on the line" Nat replied before storming out of the room. Yelena looked up at you and shook her head, "I'm only a day late" she spoke as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

"You told me you finished them last night before you got into bed" you reminded the blonde, clenching your jaw at her lie. "I was tired" she muttered, letting her eyes drop to the laptop in front of her. You pulled her chair out from the table and swung her around to look at you, "don't talk back to me like that" you spoke sternly. Yelena smirked ever so slightly, "Yeah? Why don't you do these reports then" she spat making you tilt your head at her behavior.

Your eyes dropped to the growing bulge in her before you pushed her chair away from her, "take them off" you demanded. 

"What?" Yelena asked with a confused look. 

"Don't play dumb now baby, take them off. You're going to get these reports done and you're not going to cum until I say you can, now, take them off" you replied. 

"Can we do this in our room?" She questioned making you chuckle at her. You shook your head, "no. If you want to be a stubborn little brat, I'm going to make sure everybody in this compound knows who you belong too" you explained as you wandered over to the door and opened it, pushing a chair to keep it open. Yelena gulped while you looked back at her with a smirk, "do I have tell you a third time?" You slowly wandered back to Yelena. 

She stood up and nervously unbuckled her pants, letting them drop to her ankles as you came closer to her. "P-please mommy, close the door" she begged with her hands playing with the waist band of her black boxers.

"Why? Don't you want everybody to see how hard I can make you work? or are you worried that somebody will see how much of a little whore you are for me?" you asked keeping a strong eye contact with the blonde as she stood speechless in front of you. "Well? Which is it? Use your words" you said. 

"Please" she begged once more causing you to sigh, "you should've thought about that before taking back to me, isn't that right?" You replied. Yelena nodded, "I'm sorry mommy" she said with red cheeks. 

"Too late for apologies, drop the boxers and sit down"

Yelena didn't wait to be told again, she let her boxers drop to her ankles like her pants before stepping out of them and sitting down on the chair again. Her cock semi-hard stood to the side, resting against her thigh. You walked behind her chair and spun it back to face the laptop before crawling under the table and spreading her legs. She looked down at you as you wrapped a hand around her length, "get typing if you wanna cum baby" you spoke as you began to jerk her off. 

She grew harder in your hand by the second, you could hear the light groans coming from her over the sound of her fingers typing on the keyboard. Her fist hit the desk the moment your lips wrapped around her head, trying her best not to moan as Steve walked by the room. 

"F-fuck!" She whispered ever so quietly as she looked down at you between her thighs just to get a glimpse of your lips around her. You looked up at her while you took her inch my inch down your through, tugging at her balls with your hand. "Oh god!" She moaned, throwing her head back for a moment. You knew she would struggle to keep herself from blowing her load too soon but that just excited you even more when her precum hit your tongue. You gagged on her cock before pulling her length out of your mouth slowly. 

"You're wasting time, I didn't say stop!" You reminded her when the sound of her fingertips tapping on the keyboard had come to a stop.

"It's a little hard to focus when you suck me off so fucking good!" She replied, returning to the mission report document in front of her. She's never typed too fast in her life, remembering that word document had spell check, she wasn't worried about mistakes, not when you had her cock down your throat once more. 

Your hands wrapped around her cock once more as you bobbed your head on her length, pumping her with your hands as you did so. Straggled moans left her lips as she struggled to keep her mind and focus on the mission report. "D-don't stop! Please!" you heard her mutter as she tried to place one hand on top of your head only for you to slap her hand away and pause your actions, "I told you, if you want to cum, you'll finish those reports!" You reminded her. 

Yelena sighed heavily wishing the reports would write themselves. Your lips returned to her cock, swirling your tongue around her as she bucks her hips, "нужно кончить mommy!" She grunted in Russian. 

"About time you're getting those reports done!" Kate's voice startled Yelena making her jump slightly in her chair, her knuckles turning while she kept her eyes on the screen in front of her. "Ye-yeah, Nat's on my arse about it!" She replied. 

"Well, when you're done, do you wanna train with me?" Kate asked. Yelena was silent for a moment to keep her moans from alerting her friend of your presence under the table. "Sure, s-sounds good" she replied in a stutter, "Kate I really need to get these done" she quickly added when you pulled back and swirled your tongue over the sensitive tip. 

"I'll be in the my room when you're done" Kate smiled even though Yelena made no effort to make eye contact with the archer. 

Soon enough, Yelena was on the edge of tears from doing her best to be good for you and not cum, her fingers typing as fast as she could manage, her head slightly thrown back while she typed without looking. "Mommy, please!! M' almost done!" She cried as you gagged on her cock once again. Her balls falling heavy in your hands, you knew she was painfully close to letting her load blow down your throat. But you ignored her cries and continued to bob your head on her cock as she struggled more and more to finish the mission report. 

Her breathing picked up, she bucked her hips once more, "Do-Done! It's done!" she almost yelled as she looked down at you, tears building in her eyes, "please mommy, I did it!" she added. You pulled back and smiled softly, "Good girl, now you can cum down mommy's throat" you replied before taking her length back into your mouth. Her warm, salty cum shot filled your mouth rather quickly while she moaned your name.

"Thank you mommy! F-fuck!" she moaned, closing the lid of the laptop and sinking more into her chair. You swallowed her load before coming out from under the desk and kissing her letting her taste herself on your lips. "Take a minute to catch your breath darling, I'm going to get you some water then we'll get the next one done, do you think you can handle mommy keeping your cock warm this time?" You whispered in her ear before wandering out of the room leaving her a mess.

Taglist: @marvelfan98 | @boredandneedfanfics | @music-4ever | @marvelwomen-simp | 

If you want to be on the taglist for WandaNat fics and/or others, please click HERE.

[wroteclassicaly]

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader

Warnings: Dry humping, Steve comes in his pants, language, overall NSFW, mild mentions of roleplay with Steve’s old highschool title, some touching, & Steve tasting the reader off his fingers.

A/N: I get extremely thirsty for Steve, especially when we get new JK content (we’ve been fed)! This fic was inspired by this post… Hope y’all enjoy?! 🤭❤️

If you ask Steve Harrington what his favorite smell is, he’s always going to have the very same answer. You. Hell, you accumulate all of his senses; taste, touch, sight, hearing, and smell. When he isn’t looking at you, doesn’t have his hands on you, isn’t buried with his tongue between your legs or his fingers inside to sample, hear your soft whimpers or pleads, loud yells during your sassier moments, your voice crying out for him, when he can’t smell your perfume on your soft skin, maybe even your body lotion - whatever product you like to lather on — he goes insane. So it’s no surprise that your chlorine soaked skin had driven him to his very brink, causing a defined pout to capture his Cupid’s bow as you slighted his advances to go and take a post-pool bath. No amount of that cute little pearly white smirking that he did, promises that he didn’t mind - none of it worked.

Steve had sulked to the guest shower, retreating after in a new pair of jeans, relaxing on his living room couch, nursing a beer and a sturdy irritation. It wasn’t hot, no, the AC worked fine, but as he ran his hand through his fuzzy sternum-clad mane, his imagination had catapulted beyond reason. He wanted you. His tongue was slick but it wasn’t with you, his fingers dry, his nose inhaling his own apple and cedarwood body wash. He’d looked over and it wasn’t you he saw, just a condensed soaked brown bottle overflowing on the coaster.

“Stevie? Is that the last beer, baby?” He perked immediately, the soft pudge of his stomach squishing against his belt as he leaned up to indulge in two senses; sight and sound.

You’d brought your own toiletry bag, and he was smacked in the face with your delicious fragrance. That, and your baggy t-shirt with a faded logo on it that you had thrifted for lounging purposes, complete with your white cotton panties that had a pink daisy on the crotch.

He needed you.

You barely have time to wash down some sips of your boyfriend’s beer and he’s wrapping his arms around you from behind, letting out a growl in your ear as he falls back onto the couch with you. “Jesus, Steve.”

“I know it’s Sunday, but only King Steve is here, honey.”

“Are you still in your glory years, babe?” You snort softly, even though you are aware of what he’s about to respond with.

“You’re the only one that can call me that now, and, as I recall, “— he cuts himself off, leaning into a sitting position, taking you with him, “— it makes you cum pretty fuckin’ hard, sweetheart,” he rubs a calloused thumb behind your ear, trickling down towards the lobe, before continuing, “and you love how mean I get. Just like highschool, but your pussy is all for me this time.”

You let him maneuver you onto him into a straddle, watching him collapse onto his back, his hands on the fat of your thighs, blown hazel scattering those green specks into the black expanding abyss of his pupils. You don’t bother to deny it, you love playing the nerd that he never looked twice at and he takes on that crowned cocky role, letting your old highschool hierarchies stay in the past, but being able to have fun with them. You take his defined digits as he offers them to you, linking together, pushing them beside his head as you press to him, breasts smashed into his naked chest. Steve expected to take control, ravage you first, however — you shock him. Your teeth nip at his stubble bitten chin, licking your way underneath his jawline and across his jugular, just in time for him to swallow against your kisses. Apparently you’ve needed him just as much, if the newly accumulated warmth in your panties is anything to go by.

Steve can feel it sinking through his denim wash jeans, that sopping wet spot in your cute little panties as you begin to roll your hips back and forth, thighs tightening around his trim waistline. You raise to a height, moving above him, tossing your head back and letting your eyes close. His thick cock swells embarrassingly fast, even for him. You give little mewls in response, taking your still linked hands up and sliding them beneath your shirt, encouraging him, but never letting him get his fill without your guiding hands. Steve surrenders to it, sweat already slicking his chest and matting the hair back, his dick painfully pressing on his zipper.

He tries to plead for you to let him get some relief, but you merely shake your head, too caught up to register. He’s so thick and warm beneath you, dragging along your soaking wet cunt just right, his bulge helping stretch your overly damp underwear over your clit on every thrust of your hips.

“Shit, shit… Honey, are you soaked? Feels like — fuck!”

He pushes your hands out of the way and rips your shirt over your head, you helping him discard it with an audible cast off, automatically letting him play with your tits. His thumbs rub, fingertips pinch at your nipples. His tongue is dry, wanting to kiss you, taste the cream from between your thighs, lick your salty skin. Through his quickening pulse that rushes through his ears, the glassy haze in his eyes — Steve looks down between your legs. He whines, giving you a heightened sense of power and pride.

His view is rewarding, aside from his raging need to cum, he sees the saturated, sticky crotch that darkens the daisy decor on your panties. And it’s seeping out all over him. A sudden tightness latches onto his muscles, clings like a vice, tickling him with an electrifying ache. His eyes widen, lips parting, a desperation he wasn’t aware could come from him appears, “Honey, I’m cumming. Baby, please —“

His toes curl, thighs tremble against yours, his back arching into the raw and untouched stimulation, and you push down, rocking in harder, faster. He’s done for. You spread your legs a little wider, right in time to see his orgasm darken his jeans in a rather… large patch. He’s crying out and panting your name, all the veins in his throat tensing and constricting as he rides the last of it out. It beckons you into helping yourself, his combined essence mixing with yours as you pull your underwear to the side and gently rub your clit back and forth across the mess, the scratchy material wet enough to not hurt.

“Good girl, that’s my sweet fuckin’ babygirl..” Steve has found his voice again, releasing one set of laced hands, reaching to spread your lips apart, his other palming your breast, before sliding up your neck to squeeze and letting his thumb press into your mouth. “Yeah, s’ a good sweetheart for me, sucking on my thumb as you rub this little clit in my cum,” he flicks your button with his thumb, “feel powerful making me cum like that, don’t you? Haven’t done that in years, baby. See what you make of me?”

He’s babbling, disbelief that he resorted to being unable to hold it, that fire too strong, his desire too carnal for you.

You lose control now, bowing over and letting his thumb rest at your lips, both hands raising to suction to his wrist. He licks his parched mouth, pushing his hips slightly to tilt you over the edge and into his hold. “That’s it. Fuck, that’s it, honey. Holy-fucking-shit!”

The coil in you snaps and Steve sees that translucent cream pour out of your opening and drip onto his jeans. You moan out his name, thighs quaking beyond your control, and you don’t protest him raising up to steal the last of your orgasm in a kiss, his thumbpad slowly working over to your clit to assist your climactic completion. Your heart is racing, lips parting from his with a smack, his finger stilling, swiping through your drenched seam to sample, bringing it up to finally have his favorite taste. You’re grinning, eager to pounce, knowing this night is not over.

Still, you can’t resist the urge to tease, trying to ease the shaking in your jello-fied limbs. “Mhm, looks like you’re gonna need a shower, King Steve, because the nerd just owned you. Can we time travel into 83 to tell you about that?”

With a still heaving, curly and chestnut colored set of tresses, Steve gets that look in his eyes. “You better get your ass upstairs, little girl. You’re wet enough to take me, so we’ll see who truly owns who.”

Mutual parties that belong to one another, but Steve is ready to play and you’re not ready to playfully argue…

// Eat me paragraph //