#steve Harrington x fem reader

[radiosteve]

I Knew You

Summary: You and Steve Harrington have hated each other ever since sixth grade, which made living next door to him all the more miserable. It hadn't always been like that though, shared smiles and loving gestures in secret before popularity went to his head. But now, Steve somehow keeps finding ways to squeeze himself back into your life, making you question if the boy you once knew, the one you might have loved, still lived somewhere within him.

Note: Its been a bit since I last posted, but I had this idea and really wanted to write it. I'm currently drowning with work and school stuff for my masters so my next fic might take a hot minute and will definitely be shorter. This takes place in the fall after season 4 and both Eddie and Max survived with minimal injuries. It’s also partially inspired by Cardigan by Taylor Swift, hence the lyrics as chapter titles. This ended up being way longer than I intended for it to be, but I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, no use of y/n (reader is referred to as Baby), smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (female receiving), enemies to lovers, language, mentions of blood/injuries, some cannon divergence, fluff, angst, slowburn.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 30.5k (I got carried away)

I knew I’d curse you for the longest time

The last salt of the summer air lazed its way through the breeze, picking up the fresh fallen leaves with it. There wasn’t enough foliage on the ground to worry about raking them just yet, but it still brought a chill down your spine at the thought of autumn’s rapid approach. You were sitting on the window bench in your room with a book in your hands and your back against the wall as the breeze floated through the open window, making the curtains dance despite being drawn back. It was a moment of quiet, something you desperately needed.

You were lost in words on the page before you, taking them in sentence after sentence, until the loud slam of a door interrupted your trance. The sound of the door was followed by singing, loud and obnoxious singing. More specifically, Steve Harrington’s loud and obnoxious singing. He had just strolled into his room, playing air guitar along to whatever metal song he was bellowing. A metal song that you presumed Eddie had played so many times on the tape player in his van that it somehow ingrained itself into Steve’s pop-hits brain. 

You sighed, shaking your head to try and brush off the noise as if this was a daily occurrence. Well, it almost was, in some form or another. You lived next door to Steve Harrington for as long as you could remember. Your bedroom windows faced each other too, allowing each of you to gain small, often unwelcome, glimpses into the other’s life. Just about every girl in school had come up to you at least once to tell you how lucky you were to have such an easy way to see Steve Harrington. Then they’d always proceed to ask if they could join you for a sleepover at your house, no doubt just to get a chance to spy on the boy in his natural habitat. 

Your eyes flitted back down to the page, stuck on the same sentence ever since your ears were met with the unwelcome disturbance that was Steve Harrington’s singing. He’d moved on from singing to vocalizing the song’s guitar solo, which was somehow even more annoying. Steve’s arms moved wildly up and down his fake guitar as he banged his head up and down. If you weren’t so annoyed you’d honestly be impressed by the amount of endurance Steve’s performance surely required. But you were annoyed. Annoyed enough to finally speak up. 

“Do you constantly have to make so much noise or do you just like to hear the sound of your own voice?” your remark rang out through the open window, trickling through the air to reach Steve’s room. You didn’t look up from your book, doing your best to look unbothered. Steve stopped singing and thrashing about. His heavy breaths evened out slightly before he responded, slowly approaching the window sill.

“Do you constantly have a stick up your ass or do you just like to pretend that you do?” your eyes widened at that, putting your book to the side as you turned to face the window, to face Steve. He had a smirk on his lips, one that you were more than familiar with by now. It was the smirk he flashed each time he said something that he knew would piss you off. Quite frankly, it was the expression you were most familiar with seeing Steve wear at this point in your life. 

“If there’s a stick up my ass then it's only because you put it there,” it was a lame comeback. You knew it. Steve knew it. But they can’t all be winners. You winced as the words fell from your lips, waiting for Steve’s retaliation, which was sure to be unsavory.

“I don’t recall ever doing that. But Baby, if you bend over I’d be more than happy to oblige,” Steve's smirk grew wider. Whether it was the stupid nickname or the sexual nature of his response that caused the flash of his pearly teeth, you didn’t know. However, you did know that you hated it, all of it. You hated that you constantly walked right into his dumb little comebacks. You hated that he seemingly had an endless supply of them just for you. You hated the day that the stupid nickname was ever aimed in your direction and you hated that Steve Harrington was the one to do it. 

It was late September 1978. Summer was still putting up a fight, albeit a weak one, to keep its warmth in the air. It had rained the night before, washing away the fresh fallen leaves to get stuck in the gutters along the roof or in the storm drains beside the narrow streets. School had only started back up a few weeks ago, and somehow, Steve found himself climbing the popularity ranks. It was a big deal for a sixth grader who’d only just begun his journey at Hawkins Middle to be so admired so fast, but Steve was already starting to see people worship the ground he walked on. He liked the idea of it, that he could waltz through the door of some place and up and run it so soon. His dad always said that the Harringtons were winners, and Steve knew he would be nothing if he disappointed his dad. 

Steve was walking to school that morning, Tommy and Carol to his left as a group full of his classmates followed closely behind. It was as if Steve had his very own entourage. They were a few blocks from the school when he saw it, a bike abandoned on the grass next to the sidewalk. There was a backpack beside it too, laying face down as if it had been thrown off in haste. It didn’t take long for Steve to realize why the bike before him looked so familiar. It was the same one he had seen you on almost every day that summer. The bike you rode to the library, to Lover’s Lake, to the movie theater, to the quarry. As long as it was a place with a good story waiting to be watched or read, or a quiet environment to immerse yourself in a good book, someone was sure to find you there with that bike. 

Steve panicked for a moment, preparing himself to run to the police station and report that you had been kidnapped. But then he looked up. You were hunched over the sidewalk a few yards up, picking at something on the surface of the cement. Steve’s legs moved, the others following, and stopped once again, this time only a few feet from where you sat on the sidewalk. Steve’s brows furrowed as he looked down, finally getting a good look at what you were doing. 

You sat there, slowly and gently peeling the dried worms from the sidewalk. Then you parted the grass next to the sidewalk, putting the worm down to get it as close to the soil as possible. Steve watched you curiously as you moved on to the next worm. It was then that the breeze picked up a bit, shifting away the hair that covered your face. Steve saw it, the tear tracks running down your cheeks as you struggled with the worms that Steve was sure were already dead. A few chuckles sounded from the group behind Steve, and suddenly he remembered that it was not just you and him on that sidewalk.

You too had suddenly become aware of your audience then, head snapping up to see the group in front of you. Your eyes landed on Steve. His expression was etched with empathy, an emotion Steve still held onto no matter how much Tommy tried to strip it from him in his sudden rise to king status. At that moment you didn’t care about the others or the tears that still leaked down your soft cheeks. You cared about the poor worms that stuck to the sidewalk. Your gaze landed on Steve, appealing to the boy who lived beside you for so many years.

“The rain,” you sniffled and Steve’s heart ached at the sound. He’d seen you cry before, as he was sure you had seen him cry too, through the cracks in the curtains obscuring bedroom windows. Each time Steve had to stop himself from marching over to your house and wrapping you in a comforting hug. It was an urge that he still had to repress, even here and now. “The rain cools down the sidewalk and the worms like to come out onto it. But it- it’s not raining anymore. It's too hot for them now. They- they’re burning alive,” fresh tears fell, replacing the old ones. They ran races against each other, fighting to be the first to drip off of your chin and onto the cement below. Steve’s mouth opened, but he was cut off by the boy beside him.

“Whatever, worm girl. Just move out of the way so we can get to school,” Tommy’s words rang through the air, the entourage laughing at you from behind him. Steve could picture it now, you’d spend the rest of middle and high school deemed as the worm girl. You’d hide in all of your classes, eat lunch by yourself in the library, and ignore the taunts that echoed throughout the hallway. Worm girl, worm girl, worm girl. You’d leave Hawkins the day after graduation, a car full of boxes, your life packed up and tucked away in each, and you’d never return. You’d start a new life in a new city that only knows you by your real name, not some playground-esque tease that stupid Tommy Hagan awarded you in 6th grade. You’d be happy there, build a place you could call home, find your one true love, and Steve would never see you again. 

Steve had to stop this now. He had to bury the name worm girl in the ground before it could ever fully emerge. And there was only one way that Steve’s prepubescent brain could think how. Your eyes flickered from Tommy before landing back on Steve, willing him to say something, to defend you. Maybe that was too much to ask.

“Damn, that was lame. Worm girl, really? Are we five?” Steve pulled his gaze from yours. He couldn’t bear to see the look of hope that blossomed in your eyes. Not with what he was about to say next. “I mean, if anything, we should call her Baby since she’s crying like one,” small giggles sounded off behind Steve before being overtaken by full-blown giggles and laughs. And there it was. Steve’s master plan had come to fruition. Replace a bad nickname with a not-as-bad nickname. It wasn’t a great plan, he knew that, especially when he saw the scrunch of your brows and the quiver of your bottom lip, but it was the best that Steve’s 11-year-old thoughts could conjure on such short notice. And Baby really wasn’t that bad. It's a term of endearment for Christ's sake. Or at least that’s what Steve would tell himself.

Tommy laughed from beside Steve, throwing an arm over Carol and guiding her to walk around you. The others followed, hurling a few taunting calls of ‘Baby’ at you as they walked by. You looked back down at the ground, refocusing yourself on the task at hand, ignoring the cracks running along the foundations of your heart. Maybe Steve wasn’t the same boy you had grown up with. Maybe his middle school fame had gone to his head more than you thought it would. More than you hoped it would.

You had just freed another dried worm from its place on the sidewalk when you saw it. A pair of Nikes in front of you. Steve Harrington’s pair of Nikes. He hadn’t gone with the others. It was like he was rooted to the spot. You placed the worm into the depths of the grass, tilting your head to look up at the boy towering over you.

“Screw you, Steve,” you spoke harshly, doing your best to let venom lace your words despite the shake in your voice. Steve didn’t say anything back. He just crouched down in front of you, gently picking up the last worm from the sidewalk. He copied what you had done, parting the grass to place the worm close to the damp earth below. Steve stood up then, walking back to the group that had now passed you, heading towards the school. They hadn’t even noticed he was gone. 

Steve rejoined them, sticking to the back of the group to not draw attention to his momentary absence. He looked back at you then, finding you with your head turned over your shoulder, already gazing at him with confusion plastered across your face. He shot you a soft smile, one that he had typically reserved just for you. It only lasted a moment, but for that moment you were more perplexed than before.

In that smile was Steve. The Steve. The one that had plaid wallpaper in his room and hand-drawn pictures of cars taped to the walls (some that you had drawn for him). He was the boy who had a slew of green army men sitting on his window sill, the same ones that he had given you. They sat pointing towards the street out front, and never ever at you. They protected both of your rooms. The soldiers protected them from monsters, wizards, ghosts, and disappointed parents. At that moment, Steve was the boy next door who left messages taped to his window for you to see. The boy who stayed a few paces behind your bike after school to make sure you got home safely. He was the boy who promised to love you always before placing a peck on your lips when you were both five. He was the boy you knew, not the one who humiliated you in front of his friends. 

But the moment ended. The smile dropped from Steve’s face as quickly as it had appeared. He turned his head back around, putting more and more distance between the two of you. You watched him for a moment longer until you finally managed to tear your gaze from his retreating figure. You moved then, leaning over the grass to see the worm that Steve had placed there, worried that he left it too high up. Most of the worms were dead long before you got there, you knew that, but it didn’t stop you from trying to help them. All the worms in the grass were lifeless and unmoving despite your efforts. All except one. It was the worm Steve had placed there.

You jumped into action then, using your fingers to dig a hole in the dirt. As quickly as you could, you placed the worm into the hole, covering it with the fresh soil. Its tail poked out just a bit and you watched with bated breath as it slowly retracted, moving deeper into the ground below. You glanced up at the sidewalk again, expecting to still see Steve in the distance, but he was gone. Over the hill and out of your eye line, just like the worm. 

“Don’t call me that,” you bit through gritted teeth and Steve just laughed. His stupid, obnoxious, loud laugh. The one that warned you that danger was near anytime you heard it in the hallway in high school. 

“Would you prefer I call you something else?” Steve pondered dramatically, bringing a finger to his lip and glancing up as if he were trying to remember something. “Maybe worm-” Steve began, a look of anger more prominent on your face now.

“Fuck you, Steve,” you cut him off before he could finish his taunt. He was about to say something else, no doubt another snarky comment that you could definitely afford to miss. It was about to spring from his lips when Steve was met with the sound of your window slamming shut. You locked it too, pulling the curtains closed and retreating to your bed, no longer in the mood to read. Steve stared at the purple curtains now blocking his view of you. Oh, how he hated that specific shade, knowing that they were the only thing keeping him from gazing at you. 

Steve closed his window too, locking it the same as you had. But he kept his curtains open, hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of you later. The hand-drawn cars that once lined his walls were replaced by movie posters, ones he had gotten for free from work. He still had the army men littered along the window sill though. Most of them had been knocked over on their sides and Steve never bothered to pick them back up. They pointed at your room now, though Steve never intended for them to do so, unlike you who had purposefully aimed your soldiers at Steve’s window no more than a few days after Wormageddon.

Steve sat back on his bed, laying down and placing his arms under his head. He’d made you mad. Gotten you all riled up, just as he had planned from the second you opened your mouth. So why did he not feel better right now? Why did his stomach hurt and his heart refused to rest? This battle was over. The war waged on but this was still a victory worth noting in the imaginary books. He hadn’t gotten the final word but he still won nonetheless. Isn’t that what he was supposed to do? He was a Harrington after all, and Harringtons were winners. Right? 

But I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss

The sun crept along the horizon, unwilling to give in to the moon just yet. Orange and pink illuminated your room through the open curtains. You sat at your vanity, applying a final layer of gloss to your lips before smacking them together. Unbeknownst to you, Steve had been watching you through the window. He admired the effort you took while getting ready, although he knew you didn’t need it. Steve would never admit it, he’d repressed it for far too long, but he thought you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. 

You turned towards your closet, digging through it to find a pair of shoes that matched your outfit. Steve couldn’t help the clawing desire to know what you were getting ready for. There weren’t any parties that he knew of that night. Maybe you were hanging out with Nancy and Robin. He couldn’t imagine why you’d need to get dressed up for that though. Steve wished your window was open. He would lean on his window sill, asking about your plans for the evening. He’d say it in that snarky Steve Harrington way. The way he knew would elicit an eye roll in response. But maybe you’d give in and tell him. Maybe you’d invite him to go with you. Or maybe Steve was letting fantasy mix with reality.

A car horn sounded from outside, pulling Steve from his thoughts with a jump. He didn’t realize he was still standing at his window staring at you. At least he hadn’t until you rushed to your window, trying to get a glimpse of the vehicle out front. Your eyes locked with Steve’s then and you could’ve sworn you saw him blush. You brushed it off, refocusing on why you had come to the window in the first place. Parked on the street in front of your house sat a van. A beat-up, rusty, falling apart at the seams, van. Steve’s gaze followed yours, also noticing the van below. A van he was more than familiar with at this point. 

You bent over, pulling on your shoes as quickly as you could before rushing out of your room and down the stairs. Steve jumped into action then, doing the same from within his own house. He burst out the front door just in time to see you grabbing for the handle of the van’s passenger side door. Steve peered through the windshield getting a glance of the unruly curls that rested on Eddie Munson’s head. You hopped into the van and Eddie looked up, seeing Steve cut through his yard and head towards the van. You fastened your seatbelt and looked up, also catching sight of the boy rapidly approaching you.

“Eddie, please drive. Like right now,” you turned to the boy next to you. Your voice came out shaky and desperate. Definitely not the commanding tone you’d hoped for.

“Sorry, princess. Gotta see what the hair is so adamantly chasing us for,” Eddie shrugged and you groaned, throwing your head back. Unfortunately that only made Eddie laugh at you.

“If you leave right now, I’ll do anything you ask for the rest of the night,” you pleaded, clasping your hands together to beg.

“As tempting as that sounds, it’s a bit too late,” Eddie points to the window behind you. You turn, seeing Steve standing next to your window, hand raised in a wave. Eddie leaned over, arm reaching across your lap to crank the window down, because he knew damn well that you wouldn’t do it. Not when Steve was standing on the other side at least.

“You’re like a goddamn jumpscare. I hope you know that Harrington,” you spoke, folding your arms over your chest as Eddie retreated back to his side of the van. He could identify the hint of jealousy on Steve’s face all too well. It was the same look Steve wore anytime a guy got too close to you or made you smile a bit wider than normal. Eddie was well aware of Steve’s complicated feelings for you, even though Steve sure as hell wasn’t.

“Whatcha up to? I thought you were staying home tonight?” Steve asked Eddie, resting his hands against the van’s door. He was close to you, too close. You leaned back in your seat, putting more space between the two of you.

“Well, now I’m not,” Eddie shot Steve a cheeky smile and Steve just blinked in response. “Ok fine,” Eddie gave in, unraveling under Steve’s stare. He hated lying to Steve, especially now that they’d gotten closer. “We’re going to see some band play at The Hideout. We’ve had these plans for weeks. I lied about staying home,” Eddie rushed out and your mouth dropped in shock.

“One look into Harrington’s sparkly eyes and you're spilling your guts? Pathetic,” you groaned from your seat. Eddie rolled his eyes, focusing them back onto Steve.

“You think my eyes are sparkly?” Steve quipped, a smirk growing on his lips. You heard Eddie laugh beside you and you couldn’t help the scowl that formed on your face.

“Get over yourself, Steve,” you moved your hand over the window crank, threatening to roll up the window, but Steve stopped you.

“Wait! I wanna come with,” he spoke quickly, eyes darting back and forth between you and Eddie. You couldn’t help the laugh that formed in your throat. “What’s so funny?” Steve glared at you then.

“Well, for one, you hate metal music,” you began and Steve scoffed.

“So do you,” Steve tried to retaliate, but the smirk on your lips told him he was fighting a losing battle.

“Sure, I’m not the biggest metal fan, but I like it enough and I love the energy of the crowd. Plus Eddie and I have been doing this for years. It doesn’t even matter, you’re not coming with us so you might as well give up now,” you spoke, lifting your hand in a sarcastic wave goodbye.

“Good thing it’s not up to you then. It’s Eddie’s van. He gets to decide,” your head snapped in Eddie’s direction then. You glared at him and focused as hard as you could. When you were younger, you and Eddie were convinced that you’d be able to communicate with each other telepathically if you tried hard enough. It never worked of course, but it never hurt to try. Eddie understood you better than anyone. He became your number-one confidant since the day you met. Surely he could pick up on your brain waves begging him to bar Steve from your plans.

Eddie headed towards the band room at Hawkins Middle with his guitar case swinging in his hand. He was early, intending to warm up on his own before the rest of Corroded Coffin got there for band practice. Eddie flicked on the lights, expecting the room to be empty. But it wasn’t. You were there, in the corner of the room, tucked between some music stands. You’d been curled into a ball and looked up when the fluorescent lights came on, illuminating your hidden figure. There were tears streaked across your face after a particularly brutal day of taunts from Tommy and Steve. Eddie set his guitar down and moved towards you slowly.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a quiet voice, hesitantly approaching. You remained silent, rising from your spot on the ground and wiping away your tears with your sweater sleeve. “I’m Eddie,” he spoke again, extending his hand for you to shake when he got close enough. You told him your name but didn’t meet his hand with yours, not yet.

“But everyone calls me Baby,” your voice was hoarse from crying but Eddie heard you loud and clear. He was an eighth grader but even he’d heard about the poor sixth grader that the popular kids had been calling Baby. It had moved beyond just them though. All of your classmates, teachers, and neighbors had adopted the name for you. 

“Well, I won’t call you that, not if you’re not comfortable with it,” Eddie reassured you. He had been victimized plenty by the popular kids. He understood what it felt like, which is why he was shocked when you shook your head. His hand fell back to his side.

“No, it’s ok. I’ve been telling people to call me Baby to help reclaim it, I guess. It took Marissa the librarian forever but she’s finally gotten used to it. My parents still slip up, but that’s to be expected,” you shrugged. What you didn’t tell Eddie was that it still hurt when the name spilled from Steve’s lips. You weren’t sure why it did. But the more you were called Baby by everyone else, the more desensitized you hoped to become to it.

“Reclaim the name?” Eddie asked, eyebrows furrowed. You nodded, suddenly unsure what the boy in front of you thought. “That’s pretty metal,” a smile stretched his lips and his hand shot back up between you, beckoning for yours to join it. “It’s nice to meet you, Baby.”

“You too, Eddie,” you mirrored his smile, finally placing your small hand in his. Eddie’s calloused fingers enclosed around the back of your palm and two became one. You were inseparable. Inseparable in everything except for the reoccurring nightmare scenario that kept popping up in your life. You’d been dragged in early on, being one of the last people to see Barb before she went missing. You’d caught a glimpse of her through your window, sitting on the diving board above Steve’s pool, when suddenly she was gone. You joined Jonathan and Nancy in their quest to find her and kill the thing that took her. It sucked to keep Eddie out of that part of your life, but it was for his own good. Or at least it was until this past spring when Chrissy Cunningham became Vecna’s first victim right before the poor boy’s eyes. Then you told him everything. Your two worlds fully merged, and you and Eddie became totally and fully inseparable.

Your glare bore into Eddie’s and you thought you had gotten through to him. You were wrong.

“Alright Harrington, hop in. Quickly though, I don’t want to miss the opening act,” Eddie conceded, turning to face his gaze towards the road ahead. He could feel you burning holes into him with your eyes. You rolled the window up as Steve opened the van's back door. 

“We’re so working on the telepathy thing again. Evidently, you’re in desperate need of a refresher,” you grumbled and Eddie chuckled at how mad you were at the addition of Steve to your plans. Steve closed the van door, lounging in one of the bean bags Eddie kept in the back. After what felt like the longest ride of being tossed around the back of Eddie’s van, Steve was never more thankful to see The Hideout come into view. The three of you filed out of the van as the sound of metal music filtered through the bar’s closed doors. Much to Eddie’s dismay the opener had already started their set. It smelled like cheap beer and cigarette smoke, causing Steve to wrinkle his nose.

“Go get us some drinks from the bar. Baby and I will get us a spot up near the front,” Eddie handed Steve a few dollar bills, enough to cover both your drink and his own. You and Steve might hate each other, but you’d been around each other in enough alcohol-fueled group settings to know each other’s drink orders. Steve beelined towards the bar, yelling over the music to order your Dirty Shirley with extra cherries, Eddie’s Rum and Coke, and his own Long Island iced tea.

He spotted you and Eddie pushing through the crowd. You were in front of Eddie, his forearm thrown across the front of your shoulders to keep you close. The two of you stopped not far from the stage. You leaned up to say something in Eddie’s ear, your back flush with his chest, and Steve felt a rush of jealousy run through him. Eddie had told him countless times that the two of you were just friends. That the kisses he’d once shared with you while high were just meaningless, drug-fueled, pecks on the lips. That was a lie of course, but Eddie definitely wasn’t going to tell Steve about the way you moaned against his lips until the two of you sobered up enough to feel embarrassed and swore to never speak of it again. Sometimes Steve needed to be lied to about certain things, mainly so Eddie wasn’t on the receiving end of Steve’s right hook.

The bartender placed the drinks in front of Steve in exchange for the wad of cash slapped on the counter. Steve grabbed all three glasses and began his trek through the tightly packed crowd. He’d gotten really good at holding a bunch of stuff in his hands at once during his brief stint at Scoops. Steve made it up to you and Eddie, passing the drinks to each of you. The three of you watched the opening band’s set, dancing as much as you could with drinks in your hands and a packed crowd.

By the time the opener’s set was over you had sipped enough of your drink to expose one of the cherries in your glass. Steve couldn’t help the way his mouth gaped as he watched you fish the cherry out with your finger, popping the morsel in your mouth and pulling it from the stem with your teeth. Eddie eyed the boy next to him, amused not only by Steve’s aroused reaction to such a simple thing but also by your complete obliviousness to said reaction. Despite the lack of music coming from the stage as you waited for the headlining band to come on, Eddie still had to shout over the buzz of the crowd.

“Show Stevie the thing,” Eddie gestured towards the cherry stem between your fingers. You shook your head in protest, but Eddie gave you his best puppy dog eyes and you were instantly beat. You rolled your eyes, placed the cherry stem on your tongue, and closed your lips. Eddie brought his arm up, glancing back and forth between you and his watch. Steve was baffled by the coordinated performance that the two of you were putting on in front of him. After a few seconds, your mouth popped back open. You plucked the cherry stem from between your teeth and held it up for Steve to see.

“Seven seconds! That might be your personal best,” Eddie exclaimed while Steve looked closely at the stem. It was tied in a knot. He took it from between your fingers and was about to ask how you did it when the band came on stage. Steve’s hand trailed down to his side, tucking the tied cherry stem into his pocket. He wasn’t sure why, but throwing it away felt wrong for some reason.

The band was really good, especially the lead singer. He was only a few years older than you and he had gorgeous, blonde hair that flowed down to his shoulders. Steve had scoffed when the singer winked at you during their set, but you couldn’t hear the sound over the music. The three of you had a surprisingly good time together, although it's pretty hard to fight with such loud music blaring throughout the room. Eddie and Steve were tasked with finding a table after the band left the stage and you got stuck with grabbing everyone new drinks. 

“That was actually really fun. How often do you guys do this?” Steve asked, his pants getting stuck to cheap faux leather as he slid into a booth opposite Eddie. 

“Once every month or so. It depends on which bands are playing,” Steve was listening to Eddie or at least he was at first. His eyes had been scanning the bar, trying to find you. When he finally did, his expression hardened. You leaned with your elbow against the bar, waiting for the bartender to come back with the drinks, but you weren’t alone. The lead singer of the headlining band was beside you. He was smiling at you, and even worse for Steve, you were smiling back. Eddie noticed the change in Steve’s demeanor, the jealousy that now filled the hazel of his eyes. He tracked Steve’s gaze across the crowded bar, landing on you. 

Eddie was impressed. He’d seen you bag your fair share of hot guys after a show at The Hideout, but never had you managed to get with the lead singer of the headlining band. Steve, on the other hand, was not impressed. He was livid. It didn’t help that the lead singer had just placed his hands on your hips, pulling you flush against him as he leaned in close to whisper something in your ear. Steve quickly slid out of the booth, stomping his way through the crowd of people, heading towards you. Eddie winced, knowing he should chase after the boy, but slightly curious to see what would happen if he didn’t. Steve pushed through the bodies surrounding him, stopping just in front of where you stood against the bar.

“What's taking you so long with the drinks?” He called out and your head shot up at the sound of his voice. The smile that had grown on your lips quickly faded at the sight of Steve. The singer, Corey, looked up from where he had just started to kiss your neck. He didn’t move his hands from your hips despite Steve’s pointed glances. 

“Hey man, you’re kind of interrupting something right now. If you want a drink then ask the bartender or whatever,” Corey moved to face you again, but Steve wasn’t done.

“Hey man,” Steve mocked Corey’s words. “You need to take your hands off of her right now,” your brow furrowed in anger while Corey filled with confusion.

“Sorry dude, didn’t realize she was your girl,” Corey assumed based on Steve’s comment and began to move his hands, but you stopped him.

“I’m not, I swear. I barely even know that guy,” Steve scoffed at that and you shot him a glare. Corey’s eyes flitted back and forth between you and Steve. He looked more confused than ever, almost painfully so. 

“I’m way too high for this. You have her, man. It's not worth the fight,” Corey held up his hands in defense. Eddie had just worked his way through the sea of people in time to see Corey back away from you, scan the crowd, and head towards some pretty redhead across the room. Steve looked triumphant as he turned his gaze back to you. Eddie thought you looked like you were about to go ballistic. He’d never seen you that mad before in his entire life. You looked even angrier now than you had when Eddie purposefully put gum in your hair and it got stuck so badly that you had to give yourself bangs to get rid of it. Eddie was about two seconds from sprinting out of the building to save himself from being a witness to what was sure to be Steve’s murder when the bartender, Dave, called out from behind you.

“Here’s that Long Island for you, Baby,” you spun around, revealing the Rum and Coke and Dirty Shirley that sat on the counter behind you. You thanked Dave, giving him a good tip, before turning back to Steve. Because even in your fury, you could still be nice to the waitstaff. You picked up the Long Island, marched towards Steve, and slammed the drink directly into his chest. 

“Since you wanted it so fucking bad,” you pushed past him, not caring about the way the liquid sloshed over the lip of the glass, coating your hand and Steve’s shirt. You moved towards the exit, slamming the door open into the moonlit darkness outside. Steve took a second to process what just happened. He placed the remainder of his drink back on the counter before following in your path. Eddie groaned, grabbing his now abandoned drink from the bar and downing it. He grabbed your drink from beside his, knowing you’d need it when this was over, and followed Steve. You had made it to Eddie’s van and tugged on the door handle, cursing the long-haired boy for actually locking it for once.

“What the hell was that?” Steve called out from across the parking lot with his arms held wide. He was stalking towards you at a furious pace. You were so pissed that you didn’t even notice your feet dragging you forward to meet him in the middle.

“Where the fuck do you get off?” you asked in response instead of answering his question. Steve stopped when the tips of his shoes touched yours, scrunched faces mere inches from each other. “First you invite yourself along to Eddie and I’s thing and then you ruin my chances with the very hot lead singer of the band. You did that for what, huh? Shits and giggles? I don’t give a shit who you are Harrington, that’s too fucking far,” you yelled, rage boiling beneath your hot skin. 

“He wasn’t that hot,” Steve scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Your eyes widened. Eddie, who had just made it out to the parking lot, was surprised there wasn’t steam shooting out of your ears at this point.

“Is that the only thing you fucking heard from what I just said?” you brought your hands to your forehead in exasperation. “You’re such an asshole! I thought it would end when we graduated. Like you’d grow up a bit after graduation day. Hell, Robin said you’d matured, changed, and left the King Steve shtick behind. Eddie is one of your best friends now, the boy you taunted for years. So what is it about me, huh? Why are you suddenly too golden-hearted to bully everyone else but you never stopped fucking with me?” you had gotten close to Steve, not that you noticed through your tunneled vision of anger. Your heavy breaths fanned across Steve’s lips as you awaited his response.

“I-” Steve opened his mouth to respond and then quickly shut it. He didn’t know. Well maybe he did know, somewhere deep down, but it wasn’t something he could say to you now. Not in The Hideout’s parking lot where a crowd had started growing around you. Steve stepped back, creating the space between you that you desperately lacked at the moment.

“That’s what I thought,” you stepped back too, turning to walk towards Eddie. You quickly stopped, facing Steve once more. “Do me a favor, find some other girl to lurk around for a while. It's bad enough that you live next door. I really don’t need you following me wherever I go like some fucking creep,” you spun on your heels again, grabbing the drink from Eddie’s outstretched hand and throwing it back like it was fruit juice. 

Eddie unlocked the van and you slid inside, slamming the door behind you. Eddie’s eyes met Steve’s with a grimace. Eddie looked at you in the van and then back to Steve. Steve got the message; Eddie couldn’t take you both home together. Maybe Steve was the one with telepathy instead. Eddie’s remorseful eyes searched Steve from across the lot. Steve conceded, gesturing for Eddie to take you. He was the one that fucked up anyway. If anything he deserved to be the one that had to call a cab. Eddie shot Steve a tight-lipped smile before hopping into his van and driving off. Steve watched the van’s taillights as Eddie rolled through a stop sign, speeding off into the night.

The light in your room was off when the cab finally dropped Steve off at home. He wasn’t surprised, expecting that you’d be at Eddie's trailer, erasing the night from your thoughts with a shared joint. Steve trudged up the stairs, opening and closing his door softly behind him so he didn’t wake his parents. They’d be gone for another business trip in the morning, leaving one less thing for him to worry about tomorrow. Steve’s window was still open from earlier, allowing the cool night air to seep in. He laid back on his bed, thoughts racing in the silence. And that’s when he heard it. A soft sob, then a sniffle. A deep breath, then another sob.

Steve sat up, his gaze aimed in the direction of the sound. His eyes landed on you, sitting on the floor of your darkened room with your back against your bed. Your window was cracked open, the way you normally kept it at night, allowing the birds to wake you with their songs in the morning. Steve stood, moving towards the window. You couldn’t see him from this angle, not that you would have been able to regardless with the tears clouding your vision. Steve frowned. An ache in his chest, the same one he’d felt whenever he heard you cry, flourished within him. He wanted to comfort you. To wrap an arm around you and let cry into his chest. To tell you it would be okay and ask who’s ass he needed to kick. But he couldn’t. You weren’t friends. You hated him. And it’s not like he could kick his own ass. 

He didn’t realize, didn’t even feel it, but a tear slipped down his cheek, matching the flood that crowded yours. Steve lifted his hands to rest on the window, leaning against it as his brows furrowed over the broken look on your face. He pushed down, shutting the window softly, locking it, and closing the curtains. He couldn’t listen to you cry anymore. He remembered what you said, and he didn’t want to linger. The tear rolled off Steve’s chin, drowning a little unsuspecting green soldier on the window sill below. Steve moved away from the window and laid back on his bed. He felt around his pants pocket and fished out the knotted cherry stem. Steve’s eyes roamed over it for too long before he set it aside on his nightstand and closed his eyes. He couldn't sleep that night, no matter how hard tried. In the quiet dark of his room, Steve swore he could still hear your muffled cries.    

Drunk under a street light

Black and white flickered from the TV screen, illuminating the dark room that you lounged in. You were lazing on the couch, mindlessly picking at the bowl of popcorn in your lap. The movie playing across the room did nothing to pull your unfocused stare from the coffee table in front of you. It wasn’t until you received a light kick to the thigh that you could finally shifted your eyes away.

“Okay, ouch,” you glared at Robin who was lying across the couch beside you, feet practically draped across your lap. She sat up, digging her hand into the bowl of popcorn. Her perfume scent lingered in the air around you even after she pulled back. It was sweet and light like she had just finished baking a batch of sugar cookies.

“You’ve been begging me to watch Casablanca with you for months and you’re not even paying attention to it now that I actually am,” she lifted her hand towards the screen before bringing her handful of popcorn to her lips. It's true. You had been dying to get someone to watch Casablanca with you for ages. Eddie watched it once and then refused to do it again after he ended up crying at the ending. Rick Blaine’s selfless act of giving up his one true love to give her a better life brought tears to the cold-hearted boy’s eyes. He made you promise not to tell anyone, especially Dustin. 

“Sorry Rob, I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” you apologized, trying your best to pay attention to the movie again. You’d been zoned out for the entire first half of the movie, not that it mattered. You knew exactly what was happening on screen, given that you’d seen the movie a million times. It got to a point where Steve started keeping a copy under the counter at Family Video so there was always one available when you came in.

“Are you thinking about Steve?” Robin asked, her voice overpowering Ingrid Bergman’s as Ilsa confessed why she left Rick alone in Paris. Your head snapped towards the girl beside you and you could see the faint smirk growing on her lips.

“Why would I be thinking about Steve?” you answered her question with your own. The smirk fell from her lips then and she rolled her eyes. Robin sat up, pressing pause on the remote.

“Because he was totally jealous and caused some huge blowout fight between the two of you. And when I say huge I mean huge. It’s been over a week and you still won’t even acknowledge that he exists,” Robin explained, turning to face you better. You sighed and faced her too. You tried to avoid talking about Steve with Robin. Ever since they became friends it seemed too weird to talk shit about him in front of her.

“First of all, Steve definitely wasn’t jealous. He’s just a menace that loves to torment me,” Robin snorted a laugh but didn’t interrupt, allowing you to continue. “Second, Steve and I aren’t friends so me not talking to him for a week really isn’t that big of a deal,” Robin shrugged at that, seeing your point. “And third, how the hell do you know about all of this?” a guilty look spread across Robin’s face and you quickly realized the answer to your question. “Eddie’s got a big mouth,” Robin nodded in agreement at your words. 

“I would’ve figured it out regardless. Steve’s been moping around for days. He’s really beating himself up over the whole thing,” you chuckled and Robin shot you a confused glare.

“What? I find it hard to believe that Steve Harrington even remotely cares about anything that has to do with me. Well unless it has to do with making my life a living hell,” you leaned back again, digging your hand into the popcorn bowl once more. Robin just stared at you, obviously baffled by something. 

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe somewhere in Steve’s caveman brain all this ‘torment’ is actually his way of expressing that he likes you?” Robin asked and repositioned the blanket that covered her lap. You stopped mid-chew, considering Robin’s words. You swallowed hard, sitting up and placing the popcorn bowl down on the couch between you.

“So what, Steve pulls my pigtails on the playground and it’s all okay just because he likes me? That’s such a toxic ideology, Rob. Not only that, but the suggestion that Steve actually likes me is insane. I mean have you heard the worm story?” you felt defensive, as if you were being attacked even though you weren't. You couldn’t understand why your heart wouldn’t stop racing at the thought of Steve liking you.

“Of course, I’ve heard the goddamn worm story,” Robin threw her hands in the air, nearly knocking over the popcorn in the process. “And I didn’t say that it was a healthy way of expressing his feelings. It just might be the only way he knows how. It’s not like his parents are great role models in teaching him about love and stuff,” a quiet fell over the room while your head raced at Robin’s words. You’d been so wrapped up in your feud with Steve that you hadn’t taken the time to consider his life outside of you. 

You knew Steve’s parents were pretty absent based on the lack of cars in the driveway. And it was well known across town that Mr. Harrington was an asshole, no need to grow up next door to figure that out. Steve adored his dad when he was younger, and talked about how he wanted to be just like him. But you had heard the fights that seeped through the open windows in the years that followed. The disappointment that filled Mr. Harrington’s face when he entered Steve’s bedroom and saw the movie posters lining the walls. You wondered then what Steve’s parents thought of his decision to forgo college. Whether they argued with his choice, fought with him to take a chance to change his future, or if they just accepted it, not expecting much else from their disappointing son.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Robin studied your face as you spoke. You looked lost, like you were questioning your past with Steve. After a moment the hint of a smile graced your lips and Robin furrowed her brow. “Still doesn’t mean he likes me,” you quirked as Robin sat up, grabbing another handful of popcorn. 

“Oh whatever,” she launched her fistful of popcorn at you, hitting your face with the popped kernels before they fell to your lap. You retaliated, throwing popcorn back at her. The popcorn fight quickly ended when Robin picked up the bowl, dumping the rest of its contents over your head. The two of you fell into a fit of laughter while you tried, and failed, to pick the popcorn kernels from your hair. Eventually, you gave up, resting your head on Robin’s shoulder, the crunch of the popcorn sounding off as you did. Her shoulder was bony, uncomfortably stabbing your cheek with each delicate press against it, but you didn’t mind. Neither of you was very touchy-feely with each other, though you were never sure why, so it was nice to have a rare moment of intimacy. It granted you a deeper understanding of one another and a peak into the mysterious ways that each of your brains worked.

“Go to a party with me tonight?” Robin asked softly, not quite ready to leave the comfortable quiet just yet. You kept your head still on her shoulder and closed your eyes, inhaling sharply.

“Since when do you actively attend parties?” you questioned and Robin’s shoulder shook beneath you as she let out a gentle laugh. It was a comforting sound, like waves at the beach or rain on the pavement. That’s what Robin was to you. A comfort. Sure, Eddie was your best friend and you’d known him longer, but Robin understood you in a way that he didn’t. She controlled your chaos and balanced it with ease and truth. Robin matched your energy, knew what was best for you, and made you feel heard.

“Since Vickie asked me to go,” Robin winced out the words, anticipating your shift away from her side. Just as Robin thought, you lifted your head, turning to face her.

“So you’re not inviting me to go to a party, you’re inviting me to Third Wheel all night?” you raised your brow, eyes pouring into the girl beside you. Robin winced, shrinking into her spot on the couch. “Alright, I’ll go. Got nothing better to do anyway,” Robin cheered triumphantly at your concession, standing to go to your room and start getting ready together. You stopped her, gesturing to the popcorn that littered the couch and floor. She groaned, reluctantly helping you clean up the mess she made.

You’d walked to the party, arriving after everything was already in full swing. The sticky air reeked of weed and cheap booze as you pushed your way through the front door. It was sweltering inside the house. Sweaty bodies pressed themselves closely together on the dance floor, sipping on whatever deadly concoction resided in the punch bowl. Robin made a beeline for Vickie as soon as she walked through the door. There were familiar faces, people you knew from high school and whatnot, but no one you particularly fancied talking to. That is until you saw a mop of brown curls approaching with a black lunch box in his hands.

“I didn’t know you were gonna be here,” you called out over the boombox that was blaring music throughout the room. Eddie wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you to walk along with him. He guided you to the kitchen, stopping in front of a countertop littered with booze. You weighed your drink options, eventually pouring some vodka and Sprite into a solo cup, disappointed at the lack of cherry grenadine. You held up a bottle of rum pointed in Eddie’s direction, but he shook his head.

“Strictly business tonight sweetheart,” Eddie patted the lunchbox in his hands. You nodded in understanding, bringing your cup to your lips. “Where’s Buckley?” he asked, suddenly noticing the missing girl that he was sure dragged you here. You didn’t even have to speak, just pointing your finger to where Robin danced with Vickie across the room. Her hair was already a mess and her cheeks were flushed bright pink. You were about to say something else, keep your conversation with Eddie going, when he received a tap on his shoulder. It was some jock looking to make a deal. Eddie gave your hand a quick squeeze in place of goodbye and led the guy to the back of the house.

So there you were, standing alone in a crowded kitchen, regretting your decision to come in the first place. If only Nancy or Jonathan were there to keep you company, too bad they were both off at their respective colleges. Hell, you might even take Steve’s companionship at this point, because the longer you leaned against this countertop, the more boxed in you felt. What you didn’t know was that Steve was there. He thought it would be a good way to get his mind off your fight, but as he stood in the corner of this too-hot house, sipping a lukewarm beer, and listening to his old basketball teammate drone on and on about how they should’ve won the championship game their senior year, Steve realized he was wrong.

It especially didn’t help when his eyes scanned the room and somehow landed on you. You were alone, searching the room, presumably for a familiar face, when he spotted you. Luckily for Steve, you remained oblivious to his watchful gaze, giving him some time to study you since he felt like he hadn’t been able to in ages. He considered going over to you, to keep you company, but before he could even take a step, someone else approached you first. Your face dropped to a scowl at the sight of the freckled boy who now stood in front of you.

“What’s wrong Baby? Not happy to see me?” Tommy asked, a devilish grin hiding his lips. Steve was rooted to the spot, unable to move. He wanted to march over to you, drag you away from the douchebag before you, but he couldn’t will his legs to trudge across the congested room. He was never good at standing up for you, especially not to Tommy. 

“Is anyone ever happy to see you?” you asked, crossing your arms and keeping a close grip on your cup. Tommy looked you up and down, hungry eyes boring into your skin. Suddenly you wished you brought a sweater to cover your bare shoulders. Steve still watched you from afar, his stomach turning at the desire that lingered in Tommy’s expression.

“There are plenty of girls around here that love when I show up,” Tommy grinned, leaning in closer. He reminded you of a shark with his teeth bared, waiting for a lowly seal to stumble into his pathway. “I could show you why if you come upstairs with me,” his lips came dangerously close to your ear, muffling the music that rattled the room. 

“I’ll pass,” you grimaced at his offer. Tommy’s grin faltered and you brought your cup to your lips with a shrug, trying not to look too smug at your denial of his advances. That must have been what set Tommy over the edge. He reached up, slapping the cup from your hand, ignoring the liquid that splashed over you both. His face leaned in close as his arms caged you against the counter. 

“Fuck you,” he spat, his face close to yours. “You’re just some weirdo bitch anyway,” you were scared at that point, terrified even, but you remained calm. Showing your fear would be the worst thing to do. Steve’s heart raced in his chest as he watched Tommy corner you. He took a step forward, moving in your direction.

“A weirdo bitch that won’t fuck you,” you fired back at Tommy and his face turned red with fury. Maybe poking the bear wasn’t a good idea. Suddenly someone knocked Tommy to the side, freeing you from him. You looked up, seeing a flash of red hair and someone in a striped shirt. Vickie and Robin. 

“Woah man, we were spinning around and kinda lost control. Didn’t even see you there,” Robin leaned down to where Tommy now sat on the floor. She shot you a wink when he wasn’t looking. Vickie offered him a hand, but he brushed her off, standing on his own. He looked around, catching the glances of some of the partygoers, and stomped off, too embarrassed to continue trying to pursue you. Steve had made it about halfway through the crowded living room when Robin and Vickie took down Tommy in some sort of weird spin attack. He stood there now, watching as they checked over you. “You alright?” Robin asked you while Vickie inspected you for any bruises or blemishes from Tommy.

“Yeah, I’m all good. Think I’m just gonna go actually,” you looked down at your shirt, taking inventory of how damp it was from your spilled drink. 

“We’ll go with you,” Vickie spoke up, taking hold of your arm as if she would guide you out. You shook your head, sliding her hand down to yours and giving it a gentle squeeze before letting go. 

“No, you guys stay and have fun. I’m gonna try and hitch a ride. I’ve gotta know someone around here that’s planning on leaving soon,” you had no intentions of actually getting a ride from someone. But you knew Robin would never let you go if she knew you were going to walk home alone and you just needed to get out of there. You would ask Eddie, but you knew he needed the money he’d make from selling tonight so you didn’t want to bother him. 

“Okay,” Robin nodded, granting you permission to leave. You gave her and Vickie a two-finger salute and made your way to the door. “No rides home from anyone on the basketball team. Past, present, or future. I swear all of those guys are creeps,” Robin called after you, turning a few heads as she did. You chuckled, continuing on to the door.

Steve still stood in the living room, watching the three of you closely. His eyes followed you as you trekked through the crowd to the door. Once you finally made it outside, his gaze shifted back to Robin only to find that she was already looking at him. She motioned with her head to the door, encouraging him to follow after you. So he did. Steve threw away his half-drunk beer and burst through the door. You were already halfway down the block when he got in his car and pulled up next to you. 

It was cold outside, especially for early September, a chill lacing the breeze with each gust. It definitely didn’t help that your shirt was still soaked through. You saw the headlights of a car approaching behind you, brushing it off as you shivered and pulled your arms close. It took you a moment to realize that the car hadn’t passed you yet. You turned your head, suddenly facing a maroon BMW with its windows rolled down. A groan escaped your lips, but you still bent down to peer through the window. Steve’s car came to a stop, a smile gracing his lips at the sight of your exasperated face.

“You stalking me now, Harrington?” Steve let out a chuckle and a gust of wind picked up, making you shiver again. 

“You wish. Come on, get in and I’ll drive us home,” he studied your face, searching for a sign that you’d agree. He couldn’t find one, your body unmoving from your spot on the sidewalk. 

“I’m perfectly capable of walking. Plus Robin said no rides from anyone on the basketball team,” you shot him a sly smirk and stood up straight, continuing your walk through the neighborhood. You’d expected Steve to drive off then, leaving you to walk in peace. But he didn’t, his car followed alongside you. “What are you doing?” you asked, stopping again to see Steve through the passenger window.

“If you won’t let me drive you home, then I’ll just drive next to you,” Steve shrugged, looking up at you.

“What if I cut through someone’s backyard?” you asked and Steve shrugged again, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Then some people are gonna be really pissed to see tire tracks on their lawn,” he replied and you almost wanted to laugh at his persistence, entertained by Steve’s unwillingness to let you be alone. His smile faltered then. “You and I both know the kind of shit that lurks around Hawkins at night,” any amusement from before had slipped away. None of you mentioned the Upside Down much now, not after finally defeating Vecna. It was final, the battle that ended the war, destroying the Upside Down for good. You couldn’t help the lingering fear that you’d missed something, that one day it would all return. And here, on the sidewalk after some lame party, you realized that Steve shared that fear too. 

“Ok,” you said simply, shocking Steve as you pulled on the passenger door handle and slid into the seat next to him. He waited until you buckled up before rolling up the windows and driving off. It was quiet in the car, the lingering tension of all the unspoken words swirling in the air. Steve heard the sound of your teeth chattering and your hands brushing the goosebumps on your arms. He quickly reached into the back, grabbed an old sweatshirt that sat there, and handed it to you. Normally you would’ve rejected it, your pride too inflated to accept help from Steve in any form. But it was cold, your shirt was wet, and your conversation from earlier with Robin still lingered in the forefront of your mind. 

Steve didn’t expect you to take his sweatshirt so easily, replacing his hand on the wheel when he felt the weight of it lift from his palm. You pulled his sweatshirt on, reveling in the warmth it provided. It smelled like hairspray and lavender, a hint of boy mixed with the two. It smelled like Steve. Silence settled over the two of you again and Steve couldn’t stand it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” the words burst from within him, head turning to look at you for a moment. You looked calm and objective like Steve hadn’t even spoken in the first place. “The whole thing at The Hideout was so stupid. I don’t even know why I did that,” you looked at him then, expression still neutral. “I guess I just feel like I need to protect you and I took it too far,” your brow scrunched at that, finally giving Steve an insight into your thoughts.

“Protect me? You and Tommy tormented me for years,” anger rose in your throat. You hadn’t meant to get mad, still considering what Robin said, but Steve’s twisted claim brought it out of you in the way that only he could.

“I know, I know. And I’m sorry about that too. I just- I just wanted to fit in, to be cool. But I realize now that none of that shit ever mattered. I mean, how important was popularity when the one person that I actually cared about couldn’t stand me?” Steve spoke and the tension in your face dropped. The one person Steve cared about? Was he talking about you? You took a deep breath, thinking over your words when the car came to a stop in front of your driveway.

“Steve,” you spoke softly, almost a whisper, like the breeze rattling through the trees. “I can’t just forget about all of it because you’ve abruptly changed. I can’t just decide to be your friend all of a sudden. You hurt me, for a long time. Hell, you still do,” Steve winced, wanting to turn back time to when you were five, when nothing bad had happened to you yet and things were much simpler. 

“I know,” Steve’s head sunk, his chest aching with each passing second.

“I just,” you stopped, jumbled thoughts bouncing around your head. “I just think it’s easier when we keep ourselves apart. It doesn’t hurt as much that way,” the streetlights above reflected the swelling tears in your eyes as they threatened to spill. You hadn’t meant to cry, and you surely didn’t want to. Steve understood your sentiments. Being around you only reminded him of how it could’ve been if he hadn’t tried so hard to fit in. If he hadn’t screwed it all up.

“But maybe we could try. Try to be friends,” the words surprised Steve as they left his lips. They came out far bolder than he felt capable of being at the moment. “Group settings, public places. Baby steps, you know?” Steve tried to stop the hope building in his chest, too worried about the damage it would do if you said no. But you didn’t. 

“Maybe,” you said in a whisper, a tear finally tracking down your cheek. A soft smile slipped over Steve’s lips, the same one he wore around you as a kid. The same smile you saw before he traipsed over the hill, leaving you on the sidewalk with the worms. Your lips twitched upwards for a second before you pulled the door handle and exited the car. 

The feeling of hope now took full form, blossoming in Steve’s chest, filling every crack and crevice between his ribs. He watched you walk up to your front door, still wearing his sweatshirt, slipping inside your house with a small wave in Steve’s direction. Steve put the car back in gear, pulling into his driveway next door. He shut the car off and leaned back in his seat, still unable to wipe the smile from his face. Maybe. He could work with maybe.

You drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding

Eddie’s van was a mess. Your legs brushed against fast food wrappers while cigarette butts covered the floor, crunching under your sneakers. It smelled like weed and sweat with a hint of the black ice air freshener that you forced him to buy a while ago. It was early afternoon, the sun still high in the sky as Eddie made a right turn out of your neighborhood.

“Why are we doing this again?” you asked, shifting to look at Eddie. He had his hair pulled up into a messy bun that you insisted on doing for him. It was a rare and rather unwelcome hairstyle for the metalhead, but it was well warranted for the occasion. 

“Because Buckley wants to learn how to play basketball and Harrington asked for my help,” Eddie shrugged, approaching a stop sign and making a left. You rolled your eyes, letting out a huff of air from your chest.

“But you hate basketball,” you groaned, wondering why Robin would even want to learn how to play in the first place. 

“Yes, but they’re my friends and they asked for my help, so my help they shall receive,” normally you would have laughed at Eddie’s goofiness, but the thought of being around Steve loomed over your head. You still hadn’t seen each other since the party, just glimpses through bedroom windows. It was hard to say where either of you stood with each other. Becoming friends seemed like an impossible feat on your part, too stuck in the past to care about the potential future.

“Okay, so why am I included in this? Steve didn’t ask for my help,” you pulled your feet from the trash-covered floor, finally sick enough of how the garbage touched your ankles. Your feet rested on the seat and you hugged your knees close to your chest. Your head sat atop them, watching Eddie closely with narrow eyes, trying to figure out if this was some scheme to get you near Steve.

“Each team needs two players, Baby. Kind of hard to play a two v. two with only three people,” you let out another groan and Eddie smirked in response, knowing you couldn’t refute him anymore. He made a sharp right turn, pulling up to the outdoor basketball courts that sat behind the high school. Eddie turned off the engine and tapped your knee. It was his way of telling you to get out of the car and lock your door behind you. The two of you began your walk over and could just barely make out three figures through the holes in the chain link fence that surrounded the basketball courts.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear athletic shorts before. I might pass out at the sight of your legs,” you said to Eddie as the two of you walked through the gate, entering the basketball court. You barely had time to accentuate your comment with a smirk before Eddie leaned in close.

“Reel it in, Baby. Best not to flirt with me in front of Harrington. Wouldn’t want to risk him getting jealous again,” your face grew hot at Eddie’s comment, the thought of a jealous Steve stirring something deep in the pit of your stomach, something like desire. Eddie donned a stupid smile as you approached Robin, Steve, and Lucas in the middle of the court.

“What’s up with you?” Steve asked, noticing your flustered appearance. Your eyes darted back over to Eddie, who continued to wear the same shit-eating grin as before.

“Nothing, just ready to play some basketball,” you deflected and Steve nodded, covering the basic rules of the game. Lucas was acting as the referee for the match, making it feel much more intense than it should have. That’s probably why you took it so seriously, covering Robin as if your life depended on it. Steve won the tip-off, sending the ball back to Robin. She caught it and began to dribble towards the basket. She looked like a baby deer trying to walk for the first time as she made her way up the court, nearly smacking the ball away from herself in the process. You used it to your advantage, managing to grab the ball from her, dribbling up the opposite side of the court, and scoring a basket from the three-point line. Steve retaliated after that, shooting his own shot and tying the score. It continued like that for a bit, Eddie and Robin eventually gave up on trying to cover the both of you, which was how you ended up in front of Steve, desperately attempting to block his shot.

“Worried you’re gonna miss?” you taunted as Steve dribbled in front of you, your back to the basket. A cocky smirk overtook his lips then, bringing the ball up to shoot. It would’ve gone in too, if you hadn’t smacked it out of the air, stealing it for yourself. You sprinted down the court towards the other basket with Steve hot on your trail. He managed to get in front of you and you turned your back towards him, protecting the ball in the meantime before you could get a clear shot. “Come on, Harrington. I thought you were the team captain back in high school. Figured you’d be better than this,” you knew it was dangerous, teasing him in such a flirty way, but it was all in good fun, right?

“Oh, I’ll show you, Baby,” Steve practically whispered into your ear, his chest pressing against your back. If you weren’t so focused on beating Steve you would’ve felt the goosebumps that littered your spine. Steve’s arms came up to circle you, so you moved, pivoting to take your shot and knocking Steve out of the way in the process. He lost his balance as the ball left your fingertips. You felt Steve’s hands find your torso as you watched the ball tip into the basket, dragging you down with him as he fell. Your shirt had ridden up when you made your shot, causing Steve’s fingers to brush against your bare skin. It felt like you were falling in slow motion until you finally landed hard on top of Steve, your back flush to his chest. 

Pain shot up your sides as Steve’s fingernails scraped against the semi-healed scars that resided there. You got up quickly, not taking the time to register your pain, lifting your shirt again to see that the wounds had broken open on both sides. It took Steve a second to get up after hitting the ground so hard. The others rushed toward the two of you, but your eyes landed on Steve, his gaze already honed in on the fresh blood pooling on your skin. His hands came down to his own torso, feeling the scarred flesh that matched yours. 

After everything was said and done, the dust settled and Vecna gone for good, there was only the matter of medical care to worry about. Eddie was mostly unscathed, with a few bat bites here and there, but nothing some disinfectant and band-aids couldn’t fix. Lucas was sure to have a swollen eye, cuts, and bruises after fighting Jason. Max was delivered to the hospital where the doctors said she would make a full recovery but might need a pair of glasses. Which just left you and Steve. You had jumped in right after him at Lover’s Lake, fighting your way through the water as he was tugged deeper below. When you popped out of the gate mere seconds after him, the bats swarmed you too. It wasn’t until Nancy appeared, oar in hand, that you managed to escape the feeling of the bat’s teeth sinking into your skin. 

The bats had gotten you good, doing just as much damage to you as they had to Steve. When the fight was over and everyone was safely right-side-up, you refused to get medical care, worried that you’d be poked and prodded while Owens’ doctors tried to study your wounds. Steve refused too, unwilling to be treated unless you were first, not that you knew that.

Robin and Eddie insisted on staying with the two of you to make sure nothing bad happened in the middle of the night. But you said no, pointing out that Eddie needed to stay hidden until his name was cleared. Not to mention that you just wanted to be alone after the strenuousness of the previous few days. You assured Robin and Eddie that your parents would take care of you if anything happened, same with Steve. They reluctantly agreed, dropping you and Steve off in front of your house, leaving the two of you to go your separate ways.

You were about to trudge up the lawn and enter your house, thinking about finally being able to sleep, when you caught sight of Steve’s empty driveway. You hadn’t even thought about the fact that his parents were out of town, and he hadn’t mentioned it to Eddie or Robin either. Steve had already started walking towards his house when you called his name.

“You didn’t say that your parents weren’t home,” you jogged up to him, wincing at the pain that shot up your side. Steve shrugged, also looking desperate for a decent night of sleep. Steve turned around again, continuing towards his house, leaving you on his lawn. You started following him until he saw you from the corner of his eye and stopped again.

“What are you doing?” the words sounded twisted as they fell from his lips, the same venom you expected from the boy who bullied you for years. Your face grew hot with anger, suddenly wondering if you should just turn back around and retreat to your house.

“You can’t be alone tonight, not when you’re in such bad shape,” you crossed your arms over your chest, trying to come across firmly in an attempt to discourage Steve from arguing with you. He simply raised a brow in question. 

“I think I’ll be fine,” he moved to turn on his heel again, to scale his front steps and enter the cold empty house before him. But your arm shot out, landing on his arm and stopping him in his tracks. Steve froze, mind racing at the feel of your skin against his. He couldn’t remember the last time you touched him, given that you usually kept your distance whenever he was near.

“Steve, I can’t leave you alone in good conscience. If you bleed out and die, that’s on me,” you spoke the words quietly, almost sounding embarrassed to have to say them at all. Steve studied you, eyes roaming over your face. The walls you kept up around him seemingly fell in that moment as he caught sight of the worry hidden deep in your gaze. He nodded then, giving in and leading you to his front door, trying not to look visibly upset when your hand no longer held him.

The house was just as you remembered from when you were a kid. Clean and organized, everything in its designated place. It always frightened you back then, a house so pristine that it didn’t look like anyone could possibly live there. You followed Steve as he ascended the staircase, both of you winded and clutching your wounds when you got to the top. Steve showered in the bathroom attached to his room, offering you a towel and clean clothes before sending you off to the guest bathroom.

The hot water pulsed down on you, blood and grime swirling around the drain at your feet. The water seared your skin with each drop, but you didn’t mind, hoping the sweltering heat would rid you of the horrors you’d witnessed within the past few days. The sight of Eddie being tackled to the ground by a swarm of bats. The sound of Steve’s screams as his flesh was torn open. Your own wails of pain as the bats did the same to you a few feet away. Max’s broken limbs and unfocused eyes as Lucas held her in his arms on the way to the hospital.

You turned the shower off, unwilling to let your thoughts run rampant anymore. You were careful when drying off, avoiding your wounds to keep blood from soiling Mrs. Harrington’s stark white towels. She’d be sure to have a fit at the sight of a stain. You dressed quickly, pulling Steve’s old shirt and baggy sweatpants on. There wasn’t a first aid kit in the guest bathroom, so you headed back to Steve’s room, holding your shirt away from your body to avoid getting blood on it. You knocked gently on Steve’s bedroom door and it only took a moment for him to open it for you. 

His hair was wet, a towel draped over his bare shoulders. He was shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips as water dripped down his hairy chest. Your eyes lingered there for a moment before trailing to the bandages wrapped around his torso. Steve’s eyes followed yours, landing on the gauze tied tightly to his skin.

“I seem to get the shit beat out of me anytime something like this happens,” he used his towel to gently pat his hair dry. “I’ve gotten pretty good at patching myself up,” Steve shrugged, hanging the towel on the back of his bathroom door. 

“Can you do mine?” you asked quietly, lifting your shirt to reveal your wounds. Steve’s gaze flickered down to them, blood from each gash threatening to spill down your sides. His breath caught in his chest at the sight of your exposed skin. It was dumb, just your stomach on display, but it took Steve a second to contain himself. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, memories of your bare skin seen on the few occasions that you forgot to close your curtains before changing. Steve always looked away, but the flashes of your skin were seared into his brain. He nodded in response to your question, going into the bathroom with you trailing behind him. He told you to sit on the counter, pulling out the first aid kit from the cabinet next to your dangling legs. Steve wiped each wound with an antiseptic wipe, cleaning the area and sopping up the thin blood that surrounded it. His hands were gentle and soft like he was afraid to touch you, to break you.

“Hold this,” Steve placed a gauze pad on one of the wounds, his fingers guiding your hand to rest over it, holding it in place. He ignored the tingle in his fingers as his skin brushed yours, moving on to place another pad over the other blemish. Your hand came up automatically, holding it in place without Steve having to tell you again. He unraveled the rest of the gauze, slowly wrapping it around your waist, softly brushing your hands away when he no longer needed you to hold the pads in place. Steve circled it around you a few times, finally securing the gauze tightly in place with a swift knot.

“Thank you, Steve,” you whispered, his face close to yours. Steve hummed in response, letting his eyes drift to your lips for a moment too long before pulling himself away and packing up the first aid kit. He returned it to the cabinet, his shoulder brushing your leg in the process, sending chills down his spine. 

Steve stood then, opening the linen closet by the door, searching for a blanket to give you in case the guest room got too cold. You were tired, to the point of exhaustion really, longing to lay your head against a soft pillow. But fear came creeping in, the demons in your closet, or the demogorgons rather, holding your mind hostage. The fears controlled you then, in combination with the exhaustion, speaking words from your lips that you otherwise wouldn’t have even considered muttering.

“Can I sleep in here? With you?” when you were first dropped off all you could think about was finally being alone, but as you sat there now, Steve's clothes covering your skin, you realized that wasn’t what you wanted at all. Steve froze, and his quest to find a blanket quickly halted. He looked up at you, taking in the heavy bags under your eyes, the weight of the past few days slumping your shoulders forward. He knew under normal circumstances that you never would have asked, and probably couldn’t have even stood being in the same room as him for more than two minutes, but these weren’t normal circumstances. And he would take what he could get.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll sleep on the floor. You can take the bed,” Steve turned to the linen closet once more, searching for a blanket for himself this time. He heard you slide off the counter, thinking you’d brush past him and get into his bed, but you didn’t. You stopped next to him, pulling Steve’s focus to you.

“You can’t sleep on the floor. What if you bleed out? I’d never know if you were down there. At least not until the morning,” Steve placed his hands on your shoulders, ceasing your seemingly endless babble. Your eyes were wide and bloodshot, staring back at Steve with a worried brow.

“Okay,” he agreed, trying to calm himself, the jitters of being so close to you creeping in. “We’ll both sleep in my bed,” his hands fell to his sides and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Steve left the bathroom, turning out the light as he did. You slid into Steve’s bed, the sheets pulled up around you as Steve switched off his lamp. The bed dipped beside you from Steve’s weight. You went to roll over, trying to face him, but you were met with pain, gasping and clutching your side with a hiss. Steve shot up, trying to help you but only injuring himself with his sharp movement in the process. You couldn’t help but laugh as you both settled down onto your backs.

“Aren’t we a pair,” you mumbled and Steve chuckled beside you. The room was dark, filled with the scent of a burned-out candle, Steve's lavender-scented shampoo, dirty laundry, and something else inherently Steve. Your eyes watched the ceiling, lying in silence next to the boy you supposedly hated. He rustled around beside you, trying to get comfortable. In a normal situation, you would’ve snapped at him for moving the bed so much, but right now you found it amusing. After another minute of restless movement, he let out a groan.

“I normally sleep on my stomach, but this shit makes it impossible,” annoyance laced his tone as he referred to the bat bites lining the front of his stomach. Your head turned in his direction, silently taking in his side profile, his sharp nose, and long eyelashes. He almost looked normal if you ignored the angry ring of red flesh lining his neck. 

“I’m a side sleeper,” you spoke softly, Steve’s head turning towards your voice. For some reason, he liked hearing more about you, even if it was just something as silly as how you normally slept. “I’m in the same boat as you, Harrington,” the wounds on your sides making it impossible to lay that way. Steve could just make out the shadows of your face in the dim light. The curve of your lips, the arch of your brow, the tip of your nose. He thought you looked beautiful. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop them. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop the bats from getting you,” your lip quivered then, tears welling in your eyes as you lived up to your crybaby nickname. You weren’t sure where the burst of emotion came from, chalking it up to the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon you. Steve lifted his head, his hand coming up to brush away your tears.

“Are you kidding? You jumped in right after me. If you hadn’t been there I would’ve been dead in less than a minute. You distracted some of them. I would’ve been bat food if not for you. If anyone’s sorry it should be me,” you shook your head and Steve’s hand came down to rest on your cheek, thumb rubbing circles against it gently as he spoke. Why were you letting him hold you like this? Why did it feel so comforting? You sniffled, trying to stop your tears from falling. “Baby, you saved me. I need you to know that,” you nodded at his reassurance, too choked up still to use your words. Your eyes were heavy by then, the lack of sleep weighing in on you even more. 

“I'm glad I went through that gate then,” you mumbled, words barely audible through your sleep-slurred speech. With the last of your energy, you moved, rolling onto your stomach, the wounds on your sides untouched by the mattress. Steve followed your lead, moving onto his side, and facing you. His arm draped across you, careful to avoid your wounds, and a soft sigh left your lips as your eyes slowly closed. Your breath evened out soon after, slowed inhales and exhales taking over. Steve’s fingers found the bulge of the cotton pads on your side, tracing across them gently, a comforting gesture that you’d never know about. He wished he had superpowers, the ability to heal you with just a touch. But he didn’t, so he’d do this instead, easing your pain with a soft touch while you slept.

When you woke in the morning you had the overwhelming urge to pee. You slid gently from Steve’s embrace, somehow managing to get even closer to him during the night. You tiptoed to the bathroom, not wanting to wake the sleeping boy. The large mirror covering the wall taunted you when you finished, urging you to take a peek beneath the gauze. You caved, hands gently pushing the gauze to the side. The bleeding had stopped and the gashes already started looking better. It was curious how well they had cleared up overnight, but you just shrugged, used to the strangeness of the supernatural by now. You climbed back into bed with Steve after putting the bandages back into place. You wanted another minute of peace, a moment, maybe the last of its kind, when you and Steve didn’t hurt each other. When Steve Harrington was still the boy you knew, not the one you’d grown to loathe.

“Shit Steve, seriously?” You winced as the blood began to trickle down your skin. “It’s a basketball game, not tackle football,” you lost your balance for a moment, Lucas’ arms shooting up to steady you. Steve stood speechless, incapable of fathoming how his hands did so much harm to you. The skin had never quite healed right, you suppose, more fragile than most other places on your body. “Eddie, can you take me home,” you asked, trying to keep your shirt from getting wet with blood, knowing your shorts were a lost cause with scarlet droplets already pooling at the waistband. Eddie nodded quickly, rushing to your side as if he had to carry you to the van.

“I can take you. I mean, I live next door. I’ll clean you up,” Steve suddenly was able to find words, knocked out of his stupor. He moved towards you then, but you raised your hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“I asked Eddie,” you spoke with a glare, already walking toward the court’s exit. Eddie shot Steve a sympathetic look before following behind you. Robin lifted her hand to comfortingly pat Steve’s back while his mouth fell slightly agape. You got into the van with a wince and Eddie closed the door for you. Robin, Steve, and Lucas were filing off the court then. Steve’s head was down while he unlocked his car. Eddie turned the keys in the ignition, started the van, and began to pull out of the lot.

It was an accident, you knew that, so why did it frustrate you so much? The same hands that once held yours as children now were the ones to lacerate your skin. Maybe it was the ache you buried deep inside, the one you’d never been able to alleviate, the pain Steve perpetuated for years. The one you hadn’t been able to forgive him for no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you wanted to. He left you, tossed you aside like you were some old sweater discarded beneath his bed, like you were nothing. It seemed never-ending like you’d never escape his harmful grasp. You wanted to be five again when the world seemed so much kinder and you loved Steve Harrington. Maybe the latter was still true, maybe that’s why he scarred you more than the others ever had.

As Eddie drove towards the exit, your gaze drifted up, landing on Steve. Robin and Lucas had already gotten into Steve’s car, but he stood outside of it, arms resting on the crook between the car’s roof and the door. His eyes followed you through the van window as Eddie sped away. A strange look overtook Steve’s face, one you couldn’t quite read. It was the look of a boy that never wanted to hurt you, but somehow constantly did.

I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs

           The sun hid behind the clouds, peaks of light streaming through the cracks in the sky. Tires rolled against the pavement, making their way across town. The radio was low in the car, some Fleetwood Mac song lulling softly through the air. Your car was old, covered in dents and scratches, with windows that only opened halfway and an engine that grumbled with each press to the gas pedal. Even though your parents offered to help you buy a new one, a more reliable form of transportation, you refused. This car held too many memories in its stained cloth seats. Your first kiss in the backseat, jam sessions with Eddie, driving Will, Mike, Dustin, and Lucas to the science fair where they finally got first place again. You couldn’t let it go, not yet, not while it still had some life in it. You knew how much it sucked to be abandoned. 

           The tires screeched and squealed as you turned into the Family Video parking lot. You pulled into a space near the front of the store, dim headlights shutting off when you pulled the keys from the ignition. Robin had told you she was working today, but as you looked around you were unable to find her bike in its normal place on the bike rack. You did however spot a maroon BMW parked near the back of the lot. That lying bitch. A sigh fell from your lips, eyes closing at the thought of seeing Steve. It had been two days since the basketball incident and you had been sure to keep your distance. Steve’s sorry eyes peeked through bedroom windows and only made you feel guilty for getting mad at him in the first place. But you couldn’t stall this any longer, the movies were due today and you’d be pissed if you got another late fee. So you grabbed the tapes from the passenger seat, holding them close to your chest as you closed your car door and walked through the entrance to Family Video.

           Steve stood hunched over the counter, the same way he normally did when the store was empty like it was now. His eyes were glued to the magazine that rested on the counter before him. It was a Cosmopolitan. He was ashamed to admit that he was searching its pages for tips on how to get back in your good graces. So far he was coming up short, but he still skimmed through it anyway. The bell rang above the door, signaling to Steve that a customer had entered. 

           “Welcome to Family Video. My name’s Steve. Let me know if you need help with anything,” the words spilled from Steve’s lips automatically, his gaze still glued to the magazine. It took Steve a moment to register the silence he received in response, brushing it off as another inconsiderate customer. At least that’s what he thought until a stack of tapes slammed down on the counter beside him. Steve looked up then, seeing you standing across from him with raised eyebrows. Your eyes trailed down to Steve’s magazine, and his gaze followed yours. In less than a second, Steve had slid the magazine off the counter, quickly tossing behind him. You simply blinked, an amused smile blossoming on your lips as the magazine crashed to the floor. 

           “I want to return some tapes,” you couldn’t help the smirk that remained as you spoke, pushing the stack of video tapes in front of the boy. Steve nodded, picking up the first tape and scanning it back into the system. “What were you reading there, Harrington?” he could hear your smile through your amused tone, refusing to meet your eyes as he continued to scan your tapes. 

           “Sports Illustrated,” Steve lied, ignoring the way your lips pressed together to contain your smile. You couldn’t contain your laughter anymore, clutching your sides as giggles poured from your throat. Your laughter was contagious, causing a few chuckles to spring out of Steve too. 

           “Whatever you say, Harrington,” you composed yourself, finally ceasing your giggles, but the smile remained taut on your lips. Steve handed over your receipt for the returned tapes, expecting you to leave after clutching it in your hands, but you didn’t. Your feet drifted over to the movie-lined aisles and Steve couldn’t help but follow, tripping over his discarded magazine in the process. 

Eventually, you stopped in front of a shelf, Steve watched the way you studied your options. When one finally caught your attention you leaned up, standing on your tippy toes to grab it. Your shirt rode up in the process, revealing the large bandages that covered the wounds on your sides. Steve’s heart dropped, the memories of the basketball game, the whole reason he had been reading that stupid magazine in the first place, flooded his mind. Just as your fingers brushed the front of the tape, seconds from getting ahold of it, Steve’s hand lifted it instead, offering it to you.

“Thanks,” you said sincerely, only then noticing the kicked puppy look on Steve’s face. You opened your mouth to speak again, but Steve beat you to it.

“I’m so sorry about the other day. I really didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got carried away,” Steve’s gaze drifted to the ground, missing the pity that swelled in your eyes. “I’m sorry this shit keeps happening. It’s just that when I’m with you I can’t seem to function like a normal person,” he lifted his head then, catching a glimpse of emotion in your expression. Regret? Or is it that underlying anger you saved just for him?

“It’s fine, Steve,” you assured him, but the boy wasn’t comforted. He opened his mouth to apologize again, but you didn’t let him. “Dude, I’m sick of hearing you apologize. It's fine. If anything I should apologize for being such a bitch about it. It was an accident, let’s move on,” Steve eyed you, unsure whether you were messing with him or not. But you were serious, hoping that the old Steve still lived within the boy in front of you, and that one day you could make amends. Maybe this was the first step, and if that meant forgiving him for something he accidentally did, then so be it. “Check me out?” you asked, holding the tape up for Steve to see. He nodded, going back behind the counter. He reached down, grabbing a copy of Casablanca from under the counter and placing it next to the movie you had just picked out, but you shook your head.

“You don’t want it?” Steve asked, suddenly wondering if you had been kidnapped and replaced by a clone. That was the only logical explanation for your behavioral change towards both him and your favorite movie. 

“Kinda bored of complicated romances at the moment. Maybe another day,” Steve slid the movie back under the counter, keeping it there in case you changed your mind. “I heard this one was good though,” you gesture to the copy of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that you had picked out. 

“Yeah, Robin said that she thinks I’d like it. Haven’t had a chance to watch it yet though,” Steve scanned the tape, fixing his gaze on the computer, where he typed in the code for his employee discount. He did it every time you came in during his shift, thinking he was sly and that you’d never noticed, but you caught on a while ago. It came to light after a rousing argument with Robin about how she had been overcharging you. 

You pulled a few crumpled bills from your purse, handing them over to Steve. He waited, knowing you were now going to dig around your purse until you found some coins, never willing to pay with anything other than exact change. After a few seconds, you pulled the coins out, two quarters, a dime, and three pennies. You placed them gently in Steve’s extended hand. His palm tingled with the brush of your fingers, quickly sorting the coins to alleviate the sensation. He handed you the bag with your tape when he finished putting your change away. With a small smile, you turned, heading back towards the door you entered through. Just as you were about to place your hand on the large handle and push it open, you stopped. Steve, who had been watching as you walked away, felt that dreaded sense of hope again, the one he felt so often when you were near.

“What time do you get done here?” Steve’s eyebrows raised, taken aback by your question. His mouth opened, fumbling for words as he checked his watch.

“Thirty-two minutes. Why?” you chuckled at his sudden nervousness. Maybe he really had come a long way from his days as King Steve. King Steve never would’ve struggled like this when talking to a girl.

“Do you want to watch this with me?” you held up the bag that housed the Ferris Bueller VHS, extending an olive branch. Steve’s response was immediate like he didn’t even need to think about it.

“Yes,” it was a simple answer, but you just nodded in return, a shy smile creasing the corners of your mouth. “We can watch it at my place. My TV is bigger,” Steve smirked, regaining his charming and flirty tone, the one you’d gotten so familiar with as a result of all the teasing. You rolled your eyes at the innuendo, smile still cresting your lips, and pushed your way through the exit.

“Whatever you say, Harrington,” you called out behind you, repeating the same words from earlier. Steve laughed, watching your retreating figure, the sway of your hips, and the swell of your ass. He looked at his watch again, still displaying the same time as when he had checked just moments before. Steve groaned into his hands. This was going to be the longest thirty-two minutes of his life. 

You were enveloped in a book, sitting on your window bench when a light tap sounded off next to you. Thinking it was just the old house creaking or something, you ignored it, eyes scanning the next page. That’s when it happened again, and again, and again. You pulled back your curtains and flung open the window only to narrowly avoid getting smacked in the face by a pebble.

“Shit, sorry,” Steve swore, his cheeks turning red with guilt and embarrassment. He was standing below your window, pebbles spilling out of his hand. A week or two ago, hell maybe even a few days ago, you would’ve gone off on him, screaming about nearly hurting you and potentially damaging your window. But now, you just smiled, taking in the sight of the boy next door. Only Steve Harrington could make a romantic gesture nearly turn into a trip to the hospital. “I tried to leave you a message, but your curtains were closed,” you glanced over to his window, spotting the piece of loose leaf taped to it with the words ‘come over?’ scrawled in black ink.

“Give me two seconds,” you pulled your head back inside, closing the window behind you. As you did, a few of the army men on your window sill fell on their sides, no longer facing the window across the gap between two houses. Snagging the video tape from your desk, you ran down the steps, stopping in front of the mirror hung up in the hallway. Why did you suddenly care how your hair looked around Steve? Brushing off the thought, you continued, opening the front door to be met by the boy next door. 

“Ready?” he asked and you nodded, following as he turned towards his house. You walked closely behind him, catching a whiff of hairspray, lavender, and cologne. Steve led you to the rec room in the basement, which housed the largest television in the Harrington residence. You handed him the tape and he slid it into the VCR before settling on the couch, a good two feet from where you sat. Neither of you mentioned the distance, just watching the movie and laughing at Ferris’ goofy antics.

As the movie progressed a chill ran through you, goosebumps prickling your skin. The Harrington’s seemingly liked to keep their basement ice cold. Steve noticed and pulled down the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch. He laid it on his lap, extending the end of it towards you. You accepted his silent invitation, closing the gap and sitting close with the blanket wrapped around the two of you. The rest of the movie was spent that way, thighs brushing against one another when either of you moved.

When the credits finally ended, with Ferris Bueller in his bathrobe disappearing from the screen one last time, you felt at ease. You hadn’t expected to feel so comfortable with Steve, but it was almost a relief that you managed to get through a whole movie without wanting to kill him.

“That was so good. Robin was totally right, I loved it. I'm basically Ferris Bueller so it makes sense I guess,” Steve shrugged and you couldn’t hold back the laugh that bloomed from your lips at his comment. Steve turned to look at you, a brow arched in confusion at your humor. “What?” he asked bluntly, a hint of amusement on his face.

“You would think that you’re Ferris,” you spoke, looking smug. Steve's lips stretched into a daring grin, curiosity getting the best of him.

“Okay, if I’m not Ferris then who am I?” Steve leaned in close and you rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder.

“It’s so obvious that you’re Cameron. Sure, the people that don’t know you that well might think you’re Ferris, but I know you Steve Harrington, and you’re Cameron fully and completely,” your grin widened with Steve’s look of exasperation. His hand flew to his chest in mock offense.

“What the hell makes me Cameron?” his words still had the air of joviality behind them despite his faux wounded front. The corner of your lips faltered then, suddenly reluctant to divulge more about your characterization of the boy before you. You didn’t want to tell him what he already knew, that he and Cameron shared a strained relationship with their fathers, both all too afraid of disappointing the men who raised them. That up until recently both boys took all the shit that their fathers gave them, too freighted to stand up to them. You didn’t want to say any of it, which was fine because Steve already knew. From the second Cameron appeared on the screen, the voice in the back of Steve’s head pointed out each similarity that they shared. Silence settled over the two of you, smiles fading in the quiet room.

“If it makes you feel better,” you began, voice small and fingers fidgeting on your lap. Steve wanted to reach over and grab them, encase your fingers with his, but he restrained himself. “Cameron was my favorite character in the movie,” you nodded towards the TV screen that now reflected a blank blue shadow over the pair of you. Steve observed your bashful demeanor, thinking about how cute you looked when you got all shy. 

“You would definitely be Jeanie,” Steve asserted, breaking through the uncomfortable quiet. Your jaw dropped at the comparison and the smile returned to Steve’s lips at your reaction.

“Ferris’s bitchy sister?” Steve nodded and you shoved him again. He righted himself, continuing to make his point.

“I mean, come on, it’s so obvious,” Steve repeated your words from earlier and you shook your head. “You’re both a little crazy in a hot way. Not to mention you both go for bad boys,” you glared at Steve, but he could tell you weren’t actually mad.

“I’m not into bad boys, asshole,” you defended and Steve’s smirk grew, his rebuttal already concocted in his head.

“Oh really? So it wasn’t you that hooked up with Billy Hargrove at Tina’s Halloween party two years ago?” your jaw dropped again, and Steve’s snickering filled the air. He reached over, pressing your chin up to close your mouth. You brushed his hand off of you in confusion.

“How the hell do you know about that?” you asked, confusion and curiosity coursing through your thoughts. “Did Eddie tell you? I swear to god I’m never telling him anything ever again,” you crossed your arms, waiting for Steve to talk.

“Hargrove used to brag about it to me and try to rub it in my face,” Steve informed you and your face wrinkled, filled with questions. “I guess he thought that it would make me mad since you and I used to be friends or whatever,” Steve shrugged, no longer smiling. He watched you, unsure how you would react to his explanation. 

“Did it?” you questioned, and Steve shrugged again. He didn’t want to tell you that it did, that it took every fiber of his being to restrain himself from punching the blond boy’s stupid face.

“A little,” Steve lied and another silence fell over the room, but it wasn’t as tense this time. Steve waited a moment before speaking again, watching the way you avoided his gaze. “Why’d you even hook up with him? I thought you hated him,” Steve’s voice was quiet, unwilling to break through the low noise barrier that settled between you.

“You stole my copy of Pride and Prejudice,” you let out a sigh, gaze shifting to your hands that rested in your lap again. Steve’s brow furrowed, confused about the correlation between his question and your response. “It was the copy my grandma gave me when I was 11. I had notes in the margins on just about every page. You took it from my bag in homeroom the day before the party and refused to give it back,” Steve knew what you were talking about. He couldn’t remember why he took it, but he knew that he still had it, tucked away in his closet, in a spot that only he could find.

“But what does that have to do with Billy?” Steve still didn’t understand. Your hands ran over your face as you let out a sigh.

“You hated him and he hated you. I figured the enemy of my enemy was my friend, which wasn’t true by the way. I was super pissed about the book and a little tipsy. I needed to blow off some steam, so one thing led to another and we hooked up in his car after the party,” you were ashamed of it, regret filling you the second it was over. “I didn’t know that he was such a douchebag when it happened. If I had known how badly he treated Max and Lucas then I never would’ve done it,” you explained, still unable to meet Steve’s gaze, embarrassed by your past. Steve’s hand extended, tilting your chin with his finger, allowing your eyes to finally meet his.

“I shouldn't have taken your book, Baby,” Steve whispered and you gave him a soft smile in return. The nickname rang through the air and reverberated off the walls. Hearing it didn’t bother you for some reason. For the first time in years, the word didn’t sting as it fell from Steve’s lips. Maybe the tide finally turned, the war nearly over. It gave you a sense of courage, making you brave enough to let your next question out in the open.

“When Billy bragged about it, what did he say?” Steve was taken aback, wondering why you would want to know. Billy’s words were far from nice, if anything they were disrespectful and an invasion of privacy. But the way you looked at Steve now told him that you genuinely wanted to know, needed to know.

“It was really depraved stuff, like how your body felt against him,” Steve started and you nodded, motioning with your hands for him to continue. “He said you would start to breathe heavily when he kissed your neck. That you did this thing with your tongue when you kissed that felt insanely good. He said you moaned his name like it was made just for you to say it. That your thighs shook when you…” Steve trailed off, face flushed and unwilling to finish his sentence. He had started speaking slower with each sentence, despite the racing of his heart. The tension floated thick in the air, crowding the room and making it way too hot for the blanket draped over your lap. Steve wasn’t sure when his hand had dropped to your lap, brushing between your legs from over the blanket.

Your eyes were glued to Steve’s, unaware of the distance that disappeared between you with each passing second. His breath mingled with yours, tingling against your skin. Your tongue darted out, bringing moisture to your dry lips. The heat between your thighs ached to be relieved, wishing Steve’s hand would travel higher up your thigh as his jeans tightened at the sight of your gaze alone. The blue from the TV screen that coated the room disappeared as your eyes fluttered shut. Both sets of lips were centimeters from meeting in the middle when the VCR popped out the tape, landing with a loud smack on the ground. Steve had leaned on the remote while moving closer toward you, accidentally pressing the eject button. He knew he needed to fix the VCR, worried about its tendency to spit out tapes rather than the slow half push it was supposed to do, but he’d put it off, too tired after a long day of work. You broke apart at the sound, creating more distance as you moved the blanket from your legs and scrambled back, Steve’s hand falling into the now empty space. Neither of you could look up at the other.

“I wish we stayed friends when we were in middle school,” Steve said after a long span of silence. He never wanted to be your enemy, never wanted to drive you into the arms of an undeserving man. Your eyes met then, his were glassy, which was something you hadn’t expected. 

“Yeah, me too,” your voice was small but sure, words speaking nothing but the truth. You didn’t remind him why you weren’t, something you would’ve done a week ago. Instead, you sat in agreement, pondering how different your life would be.

“I wonder what would've changed,” he spoke. It was soft, almost a whisper, and you longed to be close to him again. To feel his words fan across your lips instead of the empty space beside you. “If I would’ve been friends with Tommy, if I would’ve dated Nancy, if we’d be off at a college somewhere instead of this shithole town,” Steve was louder now, melancholy mixed with underlying anger. Even if you were finally able to be friends now, Steve couldn’t help but think about the time he missed out on with you and all the other lingering what-ifs. 

“We could still get out one day. Leave the teen angst and trauma behind,” you sounded normal again, reassuring to Steve’s overactive thoughts. “Maybe we could go together,” Steve’s heart leaped out of his chest at your words, but he reeled it back in. It was still new, being able to talk without words slicing into the other’s skin. You looked at him with anticipatory eyes, awaiting his response.

“Just give me the signal Baby and we can be out of here before sunrise,” Steve extended his hand, this was a deal to shake on, a long-term agreement that one day you’d run away together. You grinned, accepting his outstretched hand, wondering about where you’d go. Considering if you were in love with Steve Harrington, if you always had been. Dying to know if he was in love with you too.

A friend to all is a friend to none 

           Autumn had officially begun, a chill in the air that persuaded the orange leaves to tumble from the trees. It was your favorite time of year, though you couldn’t help the twinge of sadness that swelled in your heart at the thought of leaving the warm summer sun behind. Eddie insisted that you come to visit him at work, his desperation ringing out through the static of the phone. After a few minutes of groveling, you caved and agreed to go, which is how you ended up banished to the backseat of Steve’s car on the way to the record store on main street. Robin had called shotgun, but you didn’t mind, having the entire backseat to yourself and stretching out your legs. Steve’s car smelled like pine trees and leather, hairspray and cologne, as it rolled along the pavement. 

Steve pulled up to a parking spot in front of the record store, placing his hand on the passenger seat headrest as he threw the car in reverse. He turned his head towards the car’s rear, watching carefully as he backed into a spot, shooting you a wink before he faced the front again. You couldn’t help the warmth that spread over your cheeks, feeling like a bumbling schoolgirl with a crush. Ever since your movie night, your almost kiss, things had been different with Steve. Sure, there was still some teasing and the typical dirty innuendos, but it didn’t sting the way it used to. It didn’t evolve into slammed windows and drawn curtains, loud arguments and bruised egos. Something new coursed through your veins, your heart beating just to hear the sound of his voice. It was scary, the rush of feelings that you’d seemingly repressed for years, hidden under what you thought was hate. 

“You coming or what?” Robin leaned back into Steve’s car to face you. The thoughts of Steve had distracted you and you only now noticed that they had already exited the car. You followed suit, unbuckling and sliding across the seat to get out on Steve’s side. He greeted you with an arm slung around your shoulder, purposely messing up your hair in the process. You swatted at him, smoothing your hair back down as you walked through the store’s entrance together. Music wafted down from the speakers that littered the ceiling and you instantly knew that Eddie had picked out whatever metal song was playing. As if he could hear the mention of his name in your thoughts, Eddie appeared in front of you, grabbing ahold of your wrist and dragging you towards the front counter. Meanwhile, Robin and Steve headed towards the back, searching for some Abba vinyl that Steve had been wanting for ages. The absence of Steve’s arm around your shoulder left you with a chill, the tingle brought on by his touch subsiding, but you brushed it aside following the long-haired boy. 

You went behind the counter with Eddie, hopping up to sit in the space between the cash register and the pile of records stacked to the left. It was a familiar spot for you, somewhere you’d sat a million times, much to Eddie’s manager’s dismay. In this spot, you’d talk about dates that you went on, someone from high school who got knocked up or married, a new song Eddie was working on, and your hatred for Steve Harrington. But this time was different. Eddie remained silent as you perched before him, crossing his arms over his chest and peering at you with knowing eyes. He came to stand in front of you, his stomach brushing against your knees. You glared at him in response, already knowing the words that were about to crest his lips.

“You and Harrington have been awfully close lately,” a smirk danced across his face, arms uncrossing, hands landing to rest on your knees. You narrowed your eyes, placing your hands behind you, and leaning back on them.

“We’re sort of friends now, I guess,” you shrugged and Eddie leaned in even closer, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead as if he was testing your temperature. You smacked his hand away, earning a yelp in response. The grin reappeared on Eddie’s lips as he shook his hand to alleviate the pain caused by your slap. 

“Friends, huh?” you nodded as his question, eyeing Eddie for his next move. Someone entered the store, the chime of the bell over the door alerting the both of you. But the two of you didn’t flinch, didn’t even spare the new customer a glance, too enveloped in your weird standoff staring contest. Instead, Eddie called out his standard greeting, welcoming the person to Rad Records, as his eyes roamed over you, searching for an unspecified answer. “Just friends, nothing more?” Eddie finally continued, needing more evidence to make his case, to find the answer to his unasked question. And you gave it to him, eyes darting away from his and legs beginning to bounce. Eddie’s jaw dropped, a gasp seeping from the open space between his lips.

“Shut the fuck up, Edward,” you rushed out, clamping your hand over his slack jaw. Eddie’s wide eyes trailed from you to Steve and back. His lips moved behind your hand, trying to speak, but you shushed him, refusing to let go until he calmed down. You cringed at the swipe of his tongue against your palm, but still held on tight. After a few seconds, Eddie stopped and you took it as a sign to set him free. Your hand retracted, falling limply onto your lap, where you wiped his saliva onto your jeans.

“Holy shit. You like him. You actually, consciously, like him,” Eddie whisper-yelled at you and it took a considerable amount of effort to not spontaneously combust at his words. It’s one thing to finally admit it to yourself, it’s another to hear it spoken out loud. Still, you felt like there was a ritual you had to play along with, like you had to deny the accusation.

“I so do not,” you spoke stubbornly, but Eddie could hear the give in your voice, knowing the truth.

“You totally do. The fact that it’s taken you this long to realize is insane,” Robin spoke up from behind you, startling you with her sudden appearance. You looked beside her, expecting to see Steve, but he wasn’t there. You didn’t know whether to be sad or relieved by his absence from the conversation.

“Where is Steve anyway?” you shifted on the counter, making space for Robin to rest her elbows next to you. Robin nodded towards the back of the store. Steve’s figure was obscured by the towering displays that littered the room.

“Some guy that he knew from the basketball team came in and started talking to him. Steve called him Jumpy or something. I dipped out as soon as I could, so Steve’s stuck back there now,” you cringed at the name that fell from Robin’s lips. Jumpy was the dumbass nickname of Allen Peterson, some douchebag that was friends with Tommy.

“Ugh, he and Tommy once broke into the girl’s locker room during gym and stole my clothes. I had to walk around in my gym uniform for the rest of the day. It was humiliating,” a frown bloomed on your lips, one that was echoed by Eddie and Robin. 

“I remember that. They somehow never got caught,” Eddie’s eyes trailed to the back of the store, still unable to spot Steve. “You want me to kick him out?” Eddie’s eyebrows raised in question, almost begging for the chance to kick someone out of the store. But you shook your head, tapping his shoulder so he’d move out of the way. He did, stepping to the side, allowing you to slide down from the glass counter.

“I want to see if he remembers me. Maybe mess with him a bit,” Eddie and Robin waved you off as you walked towards the back, the top of Steve’s perfectly styled hair coming into view as you got closer. You approached from behind Steve, not able to get a good view of his face. You were still hidden, questioning whether you should continue with your plan or not. Wondering if Allen would do something to upset you, tease you, and make you feel small. But Steve was there, and how could he hurt you when the boy you loved was standing by your side? Just as you were about to take a step out, you heard something, Allen’s voice. 

“Dude, I can’t believe you’ve been hanging out with such losers,” Allen’s words elicited a soft scoff from your lips. He peaked in high school but here he was calling you a loser? You wished you could see Steve’s face, to know what was running through his mind, the witty comeback that was sure to leave his lips any second now. But it didn’t. All you heard was the smooth sound of his laugh dancing through the store.

“Come on, man. They’re not that bad,” you brushed off Steve’s weak, delayed defense. At least he stood up for you in some regard, that’s what matters.

“Nah man, that Baby chick is nuts. I remember how weird she was in high school, always crying over something. Sometimes I just wanted to bend her over and give her something to cry about, you know?” Allen mimed thrusting his hips as his words hung in the air. It made you feel dirty and violated, like he had already touched you in the way he said that he wanted to. The boy viewed you as an object, nothing more than something to be used to satisfy his needs. Your eyes bore into the back of Steve’s head, willing him to speak up on your behalf. To defend you, to protect you, to punch this asshole in the face. But Steve was never good at defending you and all he did was laugh again. That irritatingly coy laugh, the one that set off alarm bells whenever you heard it. The laugh that belonged to the reigning king, not the boy you loved.

“Oh yeah, totally. One good screw would straighten her right out,” at that moment you could’ve sworn that the entire town could hear your heart as it shattered. You weren’t really sure when you revealed yourself from your hiding spot behind the bookshelf, but your eyes locked with Allen’s, and his stupid smirk dropped. Steve tracked his gaze, spinning on his heels to see you, tears welling in the corners of your eyes, forehead creased, and red-hot anger coursing through you. You turned, moving as fast as you could towards the exit at the front of the store. Steve chased behind you, his hand catching your arm right after you passed through the door. Eddie and Robin looked alarmed at the sight of you both stopped before the store’s glass front.

“Let go of me,” you spoke hotly, cursing the strength of Steve’s grip. Steve’s eyes roamed over you, catching the flicker of hurt that flashed across your face before you restored it to its angry glare. 

“I didn’t mean it. It’s just-” Steve began, but you quickly cut him off, still trying to wrangle your arm from his grasp.

“I don’t give a shit what you meant, Harrington. I thought you changed. I forgave you for all the shit you put me through. Guess I wrong to think you were capable of being a decent person,” Steve’s eyes watered at your words, hating himself for making you doubt him and how he feels for you.

“I have changed. I don’t know why I said that shit,” Steve pleaded, he wanted you to understand, to give him five minutes to explain himself. But Steve knew this was it, you’d already made your decision, it wouldn’t matter even if he got down on his knees and begged. He’d broken your trust, said shit he didn’t mean, and now he’d lost you again, the same way he did years before, the way he never wanted to again. Steve let go of your arm, giving you the freedom you asked for when you first left the record store with him in tow. Your arm felt numb, empty, without Steve’s hand there, and you cursed your stupid heart for not wanting him to let go.

“I guess old habits die hard, Harrington. Stay the fuck out of my life,” your words spat from deep within you, fire coating each syllable. Steve watched as you turned, making your way down the sidewalk and turning into an alleyway between two stores. Eddie and Robin burst through the record store’s entrance, ignoring the autumn chill that they were greeted with as they did. Steve wiped his eyes, glad to have tears clouding his vision because he was not sure he could stand to see his best friend's face as he recounted the past few minutes to her. Eddie looked to Steve, silently asking where you went, and Steve lifted his hand pointing in your direction. Eddie took off, turning the corner to the alley to find you slumped on the ground, knees to your chest and head in your hands. He approached you slowly, pulling you into him when he finally got close enough. Sobs racked your body, chest heaving against Eddie’s as he held you in a tight hug, knees resting on the cement below. 

“I hate him, Eds. I fucking hate him,” Eddie nodded in understanding, stroking your hair and pulling it from where it stuck to your tear-stained cheeks. “I should’ve known he’d break my heart again. I should’ve known not to let myself fall in love with him,” your tears soaked Eddie’s shirt and he froze, stuck on the words that fell from your lips. Love. Sure, he’d known you liked Steve, but love was different. Love meant more hurt. It held more weight. It meant that you set aside the past and moved on. It meant you finally gave in to the feelings that gnawed at your heart and your brain each night. It meant that Steve really fucked up.

Chasing shadows in the grocery line

           Steve’s car finally peeled away and flew down main street, signaling to Eddie that the coast was clear. He walked you back to the now barren record store, save for his co-worker Terry, who was in the back unpacking a new shipment. Eddie asked Terry to cover for him and when Terry saw your tear-stained cheeks and red puffy eyes, he agreed, no questions asked. So Eddie put you in the passenger seat of his van and sped off down the road. You didn’t ask where he was going when he passed the street that led to your house, already knowing where he was taking you. 

           Eddie’s van stopped abruptly in front of his trailer. Wayne’s car was gone, signaling that he’d already left for work, leaving the trailer empty. It was getting dark, gloomy clouds blocking the sun as the moon rose in the sky opposite it. The porch lights flickered on, illuminating the shadows of your face through the cracked windshield. You caught sight of Lucas’ bike through the back window. It was lying on its side outside of Max’s trailer, thrown in haste. Normally it would’ve made you laugh, elicit a joke about young lovebirds to fall from your lips, but right now you couldn’t even will the corners of your lips to curl into a faint smile. 

Eddie opened your car door, gently lifting you by your waist and placing you on the ground. You followed him inside, trailing behind him like a lost, heartbroken puppy with nowhere else to go. He led you to his room, indicating for you to sit on his bed, so you did. Eddie placed a soft kiss on your forehead, the kind a mother gives her child, and lifted your arms. He disrobed you of your heavy knit sweater, your way of protecting yourself from the autumn winds that pierced the air, and replaced it with one of his Black Sabbath shirts. You unclipped your bra through the shirt, pulling it out of your sleeve before tossing it to the floor. The action always amazed Eddie, drawing a laugh from his lips, but this time he remained quiet, too concerned over you to pay attention to much else. Next, Eddie unlaced your shoes, pulling them from your feet. You shimmied from your pants after, throwing them across the room, uncaring where they landed. 

With a shaky breath, you laid down, facing the wall, your back turned to Eddie. Eddie pulled off his leather jacket, shucked off his jeans, and moved towards the bed. The mattress dipped beside you, Eddie’s body now close to yours. He pulled the bed sheets up to cover you both before draping his arm across your torso. You relaxed into him a bit, fingers and legs intertwining with one another. It was a familiar position, one you and Eddie had shared a million times, but his comforting touch wasn’t working quite the same as it normally did. Not when your heart hurt this much.

Eddie wanted to ask what happened, pester you with questions, and uncover the truth, but he refrained, knowing you’d speak up when the time was right. His heart ached at the feel of your body shaking against his, small sobs springing from deep within your chest no matter how much you wanted them to stop. Eddie only held you tighter, his arms practically crushing your ribs as his own tears began to well in his eyes. You stayed like that for a while, long after the sun fully sank beneath the horizon, leaving the room in complete consuming darkness. The wind caused sapling branches to scrape against the window, becoming the only sound to fill the lingering silence. You stopped crying after a while, wishing you could sleep the pain away, but remaining unsuccessful in your attempts. 

Finally, you gave up, shifting to face Eddie, your forehead pressed to his. Breath intermingling, comforting you, letting you know that, yes, your heart may be broken, but you were still alive. Eddie studied you, unsure whether he should be the first to speak or not, but you quickly quelled that thought when you opened your mouth.

“Do you think you’ll ever leave Hawkins?” your question threw Eddie off, his brows scrunching in confusion. It’s not what he expected you to say. 

“Not unless the band takes off, and certainly not without Wayne,” Eddie had thought about it before, considered moving to a big city where the lights never dimmed and the gigs would never end. But as much as Hawkins may have hated him, he could never hate it in return. He’d get sick of the city noise and never be able to sleep, craving to hear the chirp of crickets and cicadas instead. So when you asked, he was sure of his answer. But he didn’t echo your question back to you, already knowing that your answer would be a resounding yes. It would be tough for you to leave everyone behind, but you longed for something different, somewhere new to help escape the past and finally look forward to the future. Eddie was lost in thought, still wondering why you asked that when you spoke again.

“He’s exactly who I thought he was,” it was a whisper, one that could easily be lost, left hanging in the air with no one around to hear it echo off the peeling walls. But Eddie heard it, he absorbed your words from the silent room, wanting to know more, so you continued. “I thought he was different now, but it turns out he’s still the same, too wrapped up in caring about what others think,” fresh tears sprang in your eyes, a sob tightening your throat as you spoke. “I’m tired of fighting against his undying need to be liked. I’m tired of losing against it every goddamn time. I’m done,” there was a finality to your tone, one that caused Eddie to lift his head from his pillow, a questioning look on his face.

“Sweetheart, do you want me to talk to him? Figure out what’s running through his head?” Eddie offered, but he knew the gesture would be wasted on you. Once you set your mind to it, it was done. But he wanted you to hear Steve out. He wanted you to find a way to reconcile your differences. For all the pain and confusion that Steve Harrington brought, he also filled you with joy and light. You’d been happier throughout the past few weeks than Eddie had ever seen you, illuminating rooms simply by entering them. Eddie didn’t want that to disappear, to be forever obscured by a compilation of closed curtains and avoidant gazes. But he was met with a furious shake of your head.

“No, Eds. I mean it. No more Steve,” Eddie nodded despite the voice in his head yelling at him to speak up and try to change your mind. It was no use. He rolled onto his back, one arm resting under his head, the other still laid across you. You shifted too, laying with your chest pressed to Eddie’s stomach, head resting just below his. “I wish it was you that I loved. It’d be much simpler that way,” you’re not sure why you said it, maybe the cloud that formed in your head from the day’s events expanded, spilling all of your hazy thoughts through your lips. It was a sad wish, an empty hurt with truth behind it. But Eddie understood, his own thoughts reflecting yours, the telepathy finally working in a way. He wanted to take away your pain in any way he could, but not like this. Not when your heart was beaten black and blue, longing for a simple ceasefire to mend your open wounds. Not when that same heart belonged to another, an echoed call through the woods waiting for the birds in the treetops to sing back with an affirmative answer. Eddie loved you, but not in the way the both of you currently wished for. An irrefutable loyalty that would consciously be limited to platonic fellowship, no romance lingering from either party in the way you held each other close.

“I’m sorry, Baby,” Eddie’s whisper slid through the strands of your hair, a soft kiss placed overtop of it. You’d grown quiet by then, breath evening out as you were finally granted your wish for sleep. Falling deep into a slumber where you were still five and Steve Harrington tucked flowers behind your ears as he whispered to you about love.

Days had passed, an endless stream of the same heartache and emptiness that blended each rise and fall of the sun together, making it difficult to distinguish one from the next. Robin called you probably a million times, but you refused to come to the phone. Your parents opted to unplug the phone from the wall for a few days, growing tired of the incessant ringing. You knew she just wanted to talk about Steve, but that was something you couldn’t quite handle yet. You’d only plugged the phone back in to call out of work, letting them know you had a nasty stomach bug, not caring if they believed you or not. The curtains in your room remained closed with the little army men on the window sill replaced in their defensive stance. To you, this was war. 

On the fifth day of refusing to depart from beneath your bed sheets, your mom entered your room, messing with the knick-knacks that covered your dresser as she did. A custom D20 from Dustin, a kazoo Eddie gave you for your birthday one year joking about how you could be Corroded Coffin’s lead kazoo player, a mixtape Robin lent you ages ago, a new pack of colored pencils you’d been meaning to give to Will, and a flower that had been dried and pressed into a glittery bookmark, all littered your dresser’s surface. Your mom grabbed the bookmark, admiring the way the lavender flower retained its shape despite being flattened so many years ago. It was the same lavender that grew from the ground beneath your bedroom window, decorating the grass between the Harrington’s house and your own. You watched closely as she eyed the bookmark, curiosity flooding your thoughts. 

“I remember making this with you,” she spoke softly, a gentle cadence meant to comfort you, and it sort of did. “You came running inside with the flower and insisted that we save it. You said it was too important to let die,” she sat on the edge of your bed, bookmark still glinting in the soft glow of the lamplight. You propped yourself up on your elbows, wondering where she was going with all of this. She handed you the bookmark then, and you took it, confused, examining it as if you’d never seen it before. 

“I don’t remember that,” your voice was hoarse from crying. It didn’t help that you hadn’t properly spoken out loud in days, too congested with the bustling thoughts running laps around your mind.

“You were five. And if I remember correctly a certain boy had been the one to pick the flower for you,” you understood then, she was talking about Steve. Part of you felt betrayed, like your mother was providing aid for the enemy, but the other part of you wanted to know more, why she wanted to talk about this, especially now. “We always assumed the two of you would be friends, lovers even,” she wagged her eyebrows at you and the corners of your lips ticked up at the gesture. “So it was strange to see the distance that grew between you, the pain you caused each other. I’d always hoped you’d resolve your differences, and fall back into the same ease you had as kids, but I know it’s more complicated than that,” her hand reached up, brushing softly against your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you were crying until her fingers swiped over the fallen tears. “I love you, my Baby,” her words were a whisper, gentle lips pressed to your forehead. She patted your leg through your comforter, standing up as she did. On her way to the door, she stopped, turning back to look at you. “Maybe some fresh air might help. A trip to the store?” she suggested and for some reason you nodded, actually thinking that it would be nice to leave your bed for a bit. She smiled, making her way out of your room to grab the grocery list for you. As she rounded the corner, one foot out the door, she couldn’t help but notice the tight grip you kept on the bookmark in your hand. The flower within it that was always in bloom. Something that could never die.

You opted to go to the store alone, wanting to drive with the windows down and the music up, drowning out the overcrowded space in your head. It was nice to leave the house, to be in an open space with autumn in the air. The crisp leaves crunched under your tires as you pulled into the grocery parking lot. You were so concerned about making sure that you had the list your mom gave you that you completely missed the maroon BMW parked on the opposite end of the lot. Once you had the list, you grabbed a cart, its wheels squeaking loudly as you made your way down aisles, grabbing item after item off the shelves.

There was only one thing left on your list, a bag of tortilla chips, which was your dad’s favorite snack food for some odd reason. You almost chuckled to yourself seeing how his scratchy handwriting interrupted your mom’s pristine list. With a squeal of protest from the shopping cart’s wheels, you turned the corner, eyes roaming over the chip options in front of you. You finally found what you were looking for and stood up on your tiptoes, the top shelf being just a bit too high for you to reach. A warmth washed over you as someone leaned into your space, large hands retrieving the bag and offering it to you. Your breath stopped for a moment and you found yourself unable to move.

“I’m just gonna put these in here then,” Steve spoke softly, placing the chip bag into your cart when you froze. He looked tired, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His hair was flat, almost greasy looking, lacking his usual abundance of hairspray and product. Steve watched you, the way you shrunk at the sight of him and he felt as though his heart had been torn from his chest. He never wanted to hurt you, to make you feel less than what you were. And to Steve, you were everything. Steve opened his mouth to speak, an apology sputtering from his lips, but the sight snapped you out of your stupor, suddenly springing to action.

“I told you to stop apologizing to me,” your voice was firm and cold, nothing like the ease it held back at Family Video the last time he tried to right his wrongs. 

“Just let me explain, please,” he pleaded, eyes soft, a glimmer of familiarity in them. For a moment you almost let him, finding yourself more than willing to listen to the boy speak. You were reminded of the comfort you found in the sound of his voice recently, the swell it brought to your chest. But that vanished when you remembered the way he laughed when talking to Allen, his vile words leaving your glass heart shattered across the record store’s stained carpet. It felt like a slap to the face, a cut on your cheek, a crack in your rib. You meant what you said, you were done with him. The boy before you showed no growth. He was still the same boy who called you names, taunted you in the halls, stole your favorite book, and scared off the boys you liked. 

“No,” it was stony and resolute, an end to the conversation. You pushed your cart away, leaving Steve behind, your shadow cascading over him as you did. You made your way to the register and Steve followed close behind. He got in line behind you, but he stayed quiet, unsure what to say. He only had two things in his basket, which made his checkout go by quickly. By the time he got out to the parking lot, you were still there, placing the hefty grocery bags into your trunk.

“Let me make it up to you,” Steve startled you, appearing at your side out of nowhere. “I swear I've changed, I promise. I care about you, so much,” you slammed your trunk closed, wheeling your cart back to where it belonged. Steve followed you, but you stayed silent, refusing to acknowledge his pleas. He stood in front of your car door then, blocking it so you couldn’t get in. “I don’t want to lose you again. Let me show you I care. Let me prove it,” he looked like he was on the verge of tears. Part of you wanted to reach out and hold his face in your hands. The other part wanted to hurt him more, make him feel what you felt. The latter won. 

“You can’t prove shit to me, Harrington. I don’t believe it, any of it. You’re still the same stupid boy you were when we were 11, and I fucking hate you for it,” you spat and Steve’s face hardened. You wanted him to yell back at you, to prove that he felt something for you, something worth fighting for. But he didn’t. He simply stepped aside, a new slump in his posture as he let you go. His gaze followed the battered silhouette of your car as it drove off, a wisp of fallen leaves and Steve’s shredded heart trailing behind it.

When you got home you stormed inside, leaving the groceries in the car for your parents to unload. You fell back into your bed, resuming the same position you held before you went to the grocery store. It took some time, anger encapsulating your every fiber, but eventually, you fell asleep, putting the situation with Steve aside as you escaped to the peace of your dreams. 

You awoke the next morning, groggy and sore. Rolling onto your back, you caught a glimpse of something from the corner of your eye, something that was out of place. Your body groaned as you arose, hesitant steps towards your desk, hands slowly lifting the object. It was a book, but not just any book. It was Pride and Prejudice, the copy that your grandmother gave you years ago, the one that was taken from you. You flipped through the pages, fingers tracing the words you’d penciled in on the margins. Stuck between its pages was a bookmark, your bookmark, with lavender and specks of glitter decorating it. 

You sat back on your bed, wondering why the book was returned so suddenly and out of the blue. Your mom was the one to put it in your room, marking its pages with the bookmark, but Steve had been the one to take it years ago. Why did he keep it? Why give it back now? Was this the end? A bookend in your tumultuous relationship with the boy next door? A post-it note fell from between the book’s pages and you leaned down to grab it. Written in Steve’s messy scrawl was one word. 

“Please.”

And you’d come back to me

           The note was metaphorically stuck in your head, lingering like a bad dream that you couldn’t wake from. It didn’t help that it was physically stuck to your nightstand, its fluorescent green shade haunting you with each passing glance. But you just couldn’t will yourself to throw it away. It was a life preserver tossed to you after falling overboard, a worm on a hook meant to reel you in, a last attempt to fix what had been broken, to reconcile with Steve. You meant it when you said you were done, but the ache inside you longed to be quelled. And there was only one person that could do that. The least you could do was hear him out. Find closure, nothing more, or so you told yourself. 

A few days had passed since your encounter at the grocery store and you finally felt brave enough to face Steve again. You knew he was home given that his car had scarcely left the driveway in the past few days. Your legs felt wobbly, knees knocking as you marched in the dark through your lawn, crossing over onto the Harrington’s property. It was late, but you knew he’d still be awake, just as plagued with his thoughts as you were. You jabbed the doorbell with your finger, waiting nervously for the door to open, to see the boy that plagued your thoughts. But it didn’t. So you rang it again, and again, and again. Repeatedly pressing the button until the door finally cracked open.

“I don’t want whatever you’re selling, man,” Steve began but stopped when he saw you, straightening his slumped shoulders. He looked worse than he had at the grocery store like he hadn’t slept in days. He let the door hang open as he gaped at you, unable to form words. You took advantage of the open space, slipping inside his house before he could stop you. Steve shut the door, turning to see what you were doing, but you’d already made your way upstairs to his room. 

His room was pretty much the same as it had been the last time you were there, back when the world almost ended. Clothes strewn across the floor, trophies lining small shelves, movie posters galore. You noticed a new poster though, one for Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Steve finally caught up to you, his perpetual gloominess temporarily taken over by confusion as to why you were suddenly here in his house. You sat on the edge of his bed and he followed suit, worry filling his entire being. Was this the end? Did you come to say goodbye? Steve’s heart beat rapidly in his chest, panic rising in his throat when you finally spoke.

“You said you wanted to explain, so explain,” your voice was soft and quiet, a tone completely unlike the one you used when you were mad. Steve was baffled, wanting to know what made you decide to hear him out, but he knew better than to waste what very well could be his last chance with you.

“I didn’t mean what I said in the record store. I didn’t mean any of it. I wanted to beat the shit out of Allen when he said that stuff,” Steve’s hands shook as he spoke, watching your face for any sign of emotion. He wanted to know what you were thinking, wished he could read your mind. But he couldn’t, so he continued. “It’s like every time I’m around someone from high school, I get pushed aside and someone else takes control of what I say. Someone that reminds me a lot of my father,” angry tears welled in Steve’s eyes. He hated that after all these years his dad still had such an impact on him and the way he acted.

“Steve,” you spoke up, still emotionless in your tone. But Steve stopped you, wanting to continue, practically begging you with his glassy eyes to let him. So you did.

“I know it's not an excuse, and it's so so shitty of me. But he’s just there in the back of my head reminding me that Harrington’s are winners,” a tear dripped down his cheek and it took a great deal of restraint from you to not reach out and brush it away. “I hate that I let him win. I hate that I ever betrayed your trust, that I was so mean to you in school, that I let you out of my life. I hate that I let Allen get away with what he said, that I agreed with him instead, because I don’t. I think you’re beyond perfect the way you are. I don’t want to change anything about you,” Steve stopped for a moment unsure if you’d let him continue. Little did he know that your breath had caught in your chest and extinguished any words that might have spilled from your lips.

“I never ever want to hurt you again,” Steve continued when you didn’t say anything. “I promise, I won’t. I want to be better, I want to be the boy you trusted when we were kids. I care about you so unbelievably much. I never stopped, not once. Please let me prove it,” he’d moved closer to you and you let him, trying your best to keep your feelings hidden from your expression. You were close to breaking, to giving in, to letting yourself be unequivocally in love with Steve Harrington. But you still had to put up a fight, to prove it was the right choice, not just a never-ending loop of pain.

“I’ve given you so many chances, Steve. How do I know this one would be any different?” you couldn’t look at him, knowing you’d lose all your resolve if you did. So your eyes fell to your lap instead. Steve watched your avoidant gaze, wanting more than anything for you to face him.

“Because I love you,” it was firm and unwavering, a declaration spilled from Steve’s cracked lips. It snapped your attention to him immediately, granting Steve his previous wish. “I always have, even when we were kids. I got confused when popularity came into play, but it was still there, in the back of my mind. I didn’t know what it was then, but I do now, and I’ll do anything for you, anything to keep you with me,” Steve grew shy, still unable to tell how you feel. “I want you in any way that you’ll have me. Anything is fine with me as long as I have you back in my life. I just can’t lose you,” Steve finished, leaving his words in the air for you to respond. You took your time to collect your own thoughts, to steady the thump of your heart in your chest.

“Steve,” it was soft, gentle, longing, matching the tone Steve hoped to hear. “I don’t want to lose you either,” the words halted Steve’s heart in his chest. He hoped this was it, that you loved him the way he loved you. “I want to trust you again, but you have to earn it. We can't just keep hurting each other,” you asserted and Steve nodded wildly. You wanted to laugh at the way his hair flopped around on his head as he did it, but you refrained, simply letting a smile crest your lips instead. Steve’s lips matched yours, curling at the edges, and soon you found yourselves incapable of holding back the soft chuckles that rose in your throat.

Steve’s eyes never left you, admiring the smile he’d so dearly missed seeing. He only ever wanted for you to be happy, only wanted you to know you’re loved. And from here on out, he’d make sure that you were. You leaned forward resting your forehead against Steve’s, one last ditch attempt at your silly determination to communicate telepathically. It never worked with Eddie, so why not try it with Steve, the boy you loved since you were five. It would ease the tension, tell Steve what your lips were too scared to say.

“What am I thinking?” you asked, hands coming up to hold Steve’s shoulders in place. His hands wrapped around you, resting on your waist, feeling your scarred skin through the thin material of your shirt. Steve scoured his mind, focusing on you, the soft reflection of light in your eyes, the way your lips were dry and cracked, the curve of your cheekbones. You were more than beautiful to him, you were angelic, bewitching, radiant. You were everything he ever wanted and needed.

“That you like me too?” Steve put on his smug charm, trying to cover up his nervousness. It made you want to laugh, to kiss him, to tell him the truth.

“So close, Stevie. I was thinking more along the lines of love, but if that’s what you’re getting then, sure, we can go with that,” you shrugged jovially, a smile stretched across your cheeks as Steve’s jaw went slack. His eyes watched you for any sign of doubt, of mockery, but he couldn’t find any. He knew it then, you loved him too. Steve found your gaze, eyes whispering to him in their own secret language. Kiss me, they said, and who was he to deny them of their wish? Steve pulled you in, grip tightening on your waist as he did. Your chest was suddenly flush with his, your body now resting in his lap, lips only a breath away from meeting. It was a last chance to bow out, to give it up for good, but you didn’t want to. You tilted your chin, finally closing the gap and brushing your lips against Steve’s. The kiss was encompassed by every flower he’d ever picked for you, every peek behind closed curtains, every taunt and tease and fight, every innuendo, every unseen longing gaze, every utterance of the name Baby, all wrapped together. It felt like winning a game of hide-and-seek that had been called off after an hour of unsuccessful searching, a ring of smoke clinging to the air and lingering high only to be dissipated by the summer breeze, a ceasefire on the battlefield for a war that had gone on too long. It felt like Steve, and you couldn’t get enough of it. His lips danced with yours, never wanting to feel anything but the crush of you against him. But eventually, you ran out of air, pulling back enough to breathe, still keeping your forehead pressed to his.

“I think I knew you loved me because I always loved you too,” Steve’s words were breathy, softened with the heave of his chest. Your smile flashed through your heavy breaths and hot cheeks. Steve Harrington loved you, and you loved him too. It would take some getting used to, but you liked the sound of it. You couldn’t hold back any longer, leaning back in to reattach your lips to his. 

A moan mixed in with the kiss, grumbling up from Steve’s throat. His hands shifted down past your waist, landing on your ass with a light squeeze. You laughed at the gesture, keeping your lips pressed against his, and Steve’s heart melted at the sound. But he didn’t have long to linger on the feeling, because your hips rolled against his crotch, catching him off guard. Steve’s mouth opened a bit at the feeling, eliciting a groan from deep within him. You took advantage of the opportunity and slid your tongue against Steve’s. You did the move that you always did, a roll of your tongue against his, and Steve’s fingers dug deeper into your skin.

“Fuck, is that the tongue thing that Hargrove was talking about?” Steve asked, pulling away for just a second before attaching his lips to the column of your neck. 

“I don’t want to talk about Billy right now, okay?” you gasped as Steve’s teeth bit into the sensitive spot on your neck. You felt heat flush straight to your core and a whimper slipped from your lips. Steve was mesmerized, enthralled with the sweet sounds you made and the way your breaths picked up.

“Noted,” Steve spoke against your neck, sending vibrations down your spine. He worked his way back up to your lips, hand trailing under your shirt. You flinched when his hand brushed your scar, his cool fingers causing goosebumps to prickle your skin. You always had to lie to your hookups about where the scars came from, but you didn’t need to with Steve. He knew you. He had matching wounds. Steve pulled away, worried about the way you shuddered when he came into contact with the healed skin. But you just lifted your arms above your head, signaling for Steve to remove your shirt. The soft fabric slid from your skin, leaving your chest exposed. You’d foregone a bra that morning, and given the entranced look on Steve’s face at the sight of your bare breasts, you were really glad that you did. His hands gravitated towards your chest, cupping it gently. Steve’s thumbs came to rest on your nipples, brushing back and forth over them, evoking a delicious moan from your lips.

His mouth found yours again, and you couldn’t help the way your hips began to grind against his, craving friction to satisfy the heat pooling between your legs. You removed Steve’s shirt then, and instead of resuming his previous position, Steve tilted his head down, attaching his lips to one of your nipples. You couldn’t help the pleasure that coursed through your veins, grinding harder against Steve’s lap. He was hard beneath his sweatpants, and his length caught against your clit with each movement, only further riling you up. Soft moans fell from both of your lips in harmony until Steve’s mouth departed from your chest, shifting to lay you down with his body hovering over you. His lips were swollen and red, wet with his saliva as he gazed down at you. He looked at you with a hunger that he’d suppressed for far too long as his hands trailed down your stomach, slowly pulling down the sweatpants that rested on your hips. You lifted your bum, making it easier for Steve to take them off. Once your pants were discarded on the floor, Steve’s face shifted down, hovering over your clothed cunt. 

“You don’t have to,” you spoke quietly, suddenly seeming shy and so drastically different from the girl who just rolled her tongue into Steve’s mouth.

“Trust me, Baby, I want to. I want to so fucking bad, have for a long time,” Steve’s eyes found yours, but he didn’t move from his spot between your thighs. His breath fanned over your skin, only adding more heat between your legs. He placed small kisses on your inner thighs and your back arched at the sensation. Steve truly had waited a long time to do this, thought about it late at night while his hand fisted his cock, so he was going to savor every second. His fingers dragged over your panties, drawing little stars over the material. You threw your head back, unable to contain yourself as a result of Steve’s teasing.

“Please Stevie, need you so bad,” you begged, breath coming out ragged and labored. Steve smirked up at you, finally hooking his fingers into the cotton material and yanking them off. He lowered himself further, breath now fanning over your exposed heat. Steve wasted no time, licking into your cunt, flexing his tongue with each flick back and forth through your wet folds. You gasped as he held down your thighs, holding them tightly around his head. His tongue was persistent, like a starved man eating for the first time in days. Steve’s hips rutted against the mattress, so turned on by the noises you made, the way you tasted, how you felt against his tongue. It got to a point where you could hardly keep still, squirming wildly beneath Steve’s steel grip, and he knew you were close.

His mouth came up to your clit, sucking it with enough force to make you whine out his name. He could come at just the sounds you made, but he held back, keeping his focus on your core and the shake that slowly began in your thighs. The coil that had been building in the pit of your stomach snapped, a wave of pleasure flooding through you. Steve lapped at your folds, capturing the last of your arousal on his tongue as you came down from your high, chest heaving and thighs quaking.

“Fuck, that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Steve ran a hand through his hair, shifting up to place a kiss to your lips. You tasted yourself on him, a whimper escaping you in response. Without breaking the kiss, your hands came down, fumbling to rid Steve of his sweatpants, but he stopped you. 

“I wanna return the favor, Stevie. Wanna make you feel good too,” you spoke between kisses and Steve pulled away, hastily shaking his head. 

“You do that now and it’ll be all over. I’d rather come inside you, Baby,” Steve's eyes asked you for permission, wanting more than anything to be buried inside you. You understood what he meant and nodded eagerly, the idea reigniting the heat between your thighs. Steve got up quickly, pulling his pants from his legs. You repositioned yourself, now on your hands and knees, facing away from Steve. He kneeled on the bed behind you, one hand smoothing over the curve of your ass, gently finding its resting place on your waist. His lips placed a quick kiss to your spine as he took his length in his hand. He pumped himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing in with a wrecked moan. Your walls stretched around him, squeezing his length as he bottomed out. You couldn’t help the faint pants that fell from your lips at the feel of being so full. 

“Fuck, Steve, so big,” you whined, arms weakly holding you in place. He chuckled behind you, trying to keep from blowing his load right then and there. You were so tight, your walls surrounding him perfectly. He slowly started to move, pulling his hips out gently and pushing himself back in. Steve was practically growling at the sensation of your walls clasped so close around him. As you both adjusted, Steve sped up, his hips bouncing quickly off the curve of your ass. It was hot and wet, hard and deep, the sound of skin slapping together filled the room. 

“Taking me so good, Baby. Wanna hear those pretty sounds. Making ‘em just for me, right?” Steve’s breath was labored, trying hard to hold on as his fingers dug into your hips. You complied with Steve’s request, letting your stifled whimpers echo throughout the room. Steve pulled you up then, your back pressed to his front as your ass bounced off his thighs. He thrusted up into you and his hands came up to fondle your breasts. “Tell me you’re close, Baby. I can’t hold on much longer,” he muttered in your ear, ending his statement with another shaky groan. You nodded, the back of your head moving against his shoulder as you did. He quickened his pace then, using every last ounce of reserve that he had to pound into you, bodies pressing together. Your face scrunched in pleasure and Steve’s followed, both of you toeing the edge of blinding pleasure. 

“Fuck, Stevie. Love you so much,” you moaned through ragged breaths, hand coming behind his head in an attempt to pull his lips to yours. The words you spoke and the crash of your lips against his had Steve coming undone. His hot streams of cum coated the inside of your walls, triggering your own high, cries of Steve’s name muffled by the taste of his swollen lips. You sunk back down onto his lap as he finally ceased his movements, resting on the back of his heels, still buried deep within you. His eyes met your soft gaze and he couldn’t help the uptick of his lips. You loved him and that’s all that mattered to him now.

The two of you cleaned yourselves up, slowly redressing to various degrees. Steve pulled on the boxers that were lost in his sweatpants while you draped your oversized shirt back over your frame. You gave up on trying to find your panties, accepting that they were now lost in the mess of Steve’s cluttered bedroom floor. You fell back into bed with Steve, rolling on your side to face him, the bed sheets draped over you. Steve’s legs brushed against yours, slowly intertwining until one of your legs rested between both of his. You caught sight of a cherry stem resting on his nightstand, one that had been tied in a knot, and held back your teasing remarks about him keeping it. Steve studied you, wanting to memorize this moment, each feature of your face. He wanted to fall asleep and wake up to the sight of your soft, pleasant smile as you watched over him in the same way he did to you. Eventually, Steve’s lids grew heavy, fluttering closed as he drifted off to sleep, you not far behind.

When you woke in the morning, you were still tangled together, radiating heat off one another to fill the otherwise cold morning air. You nestled your head into Steve’s bare chest, a soft groan slipping from him as he awoke. Neither of you wanted to get up, face the morning, and separate after a night together. The only reason you eventually did get up was because Steve had to go to work and you were sure your parents would notice your absence soon.

You went downstairs before him, waiting for him to find his car keys in the mess of his room. You shared a kiss on his doorstep, fingers tangling in Steve’s hair as he pulled your hips flush with his. A whine escaped you as he pulled away, leaning down to pluck a daisy from his mom’s well-manicured front garden. Steve tucked the daisy behind your ear, placing one last kiss to your lips before walking over to his car. He opened his car door, stopping for another glimpse of you before he left. You smiled at him, waving him off and watching as he backed out of the driveway. He blew you a kiss before putting the car in drive and pulling away. You held the kiss close to your heart, the heart that now belonged to him, and headed back across his lawn to your own house.

The smell of coffee wafted through the air as you shut the front door behind you. Your parents sat at the kitchen table, a newspaper between them and a cup of coffee each. You drifted into the kitchen, ignoring their questioning looks, and plugged the phone back into the wall. Your parents shared a silent look, a look of relief that the storm was over, that normalcy would soon resume. 

You went upstairs then, entering your bedroom and pulling back the curtains that encompassed your window. You planned to leave a note for Steve stuck to the glass, the same way you used to when you were kids, one for him to find when he got back home from work. But when your eyes drifted to the window across from yours, you were met with confusion.

In place of the army of green men that once sat on the window sill was a pencil with a half sheet of white paper attached to it. A white flag. Steve surrendered, and the war was over. You smiled at the gesture before crafting your own flag to mirror the one across from you. It would be a truce then, breaking even and giving up the fight. The ache in your chest was quelled and replaced by an unfathomable warmth. There were no winners or losers anymore. There was just you and Steve, two lovers that took way too long to figure it out. 

You would call Eddie and Robin later to explain the previous night’s events, but for now, you sat back on your bed, Pride and Prejudice clasped in your hands. You opened the cover, eyes landing on the bookmark between its pages, mind drifting off to the boy that picked you flowers and told you he loved you so long ago. Maybe you knew him all along. Maybe he wasn’t so different after all.

You put me on and said I was your favorite

The summer sun beat down on Steve’s tanned skin, sweat dripping from his brow, making a trail down his neck to the collar of his t-shirt. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, wishing to escape Hawkins’ summer heat. With a deep breath, Steve leaned down to grab the box at his feet, hoisting it up to hand to you. You stood in the back of a U-Haul, organizing the boxes that were handed to you. Your very sweaty boyfriend flashed you a smile before turning to go back into his house and grab more boxes.

“You guys couldn’t have picked a hotter day to move,” Eddie appeared in front of you, unruly curls stuck to his forehead and neck. You’d offered him a hair tie earlier, but he declined, now stuck suffering in the humid air. His arms were strained with the weight of the box he was carrying, clearly struggling more than Steve had been.

“Sorry, Eds. We can’t control the weather,” you took the box that he had brought out, placing it somewhere behind you in the truck. You brushed away the sweat that had formed above your lip and watched as Eddie shook his head.

“I can’t believe you guys are actually leaving,” a sad smile stretched his lips as he spoke. He knew that it would happen eventually, that you would leave behind this horror story of a town and start anew. You’d suffered more Upside Down related trauma than he had, and he knew the fears that still crept into your mind from time to time. It was a good change, even if it meant leaving the people you loved behind.

“Me too, honestly,” you looked up then, head snapping towards the sound of voices arguing in the distance. Steve and Dustin were on Steve’s front porch loudly talking back and forth about how to move Steve’s dresser from his room. Robin stood next to them, rolling her eyes and dragging Max towards your house to grab the last of your book collection. “I’m glad it's with him though,” you nodded your head towards Steve, who was still deep in his discussion with Dustin, wild hand gestures and all. Steve caught you gazing at him from the corner of his eye, shooting you a look that said ‘this kid is crazy’ before disappearing into the house, Dustin hot on his trail. 

“Yeah, yeah, you guys are in love or whatever. We get it,” Mike appeared at Eddie’s side, his slim arms struggling to carry his box. You raised a brow at him, lifting the box from his arms with ease and he faced you with an unamused glare. 

“I think it's sweet,” Will approached behind him, also unloading a box into your arms. He smiled at you sweetly, and suddenly it hit you how much you were going to miss all of them. The bickering and the fights, the tight hugs and reassurances that they would call to let you know they got home safe. The late nights spent overanalyzing every detail of some cheesy movie that you’d forget the plot of by the morning. And in the background of it all was Steve. His forlorn gaze as Nancy walked you down her driveway to your car. His open curtains waiting for your lights to flicker on when you got back from work. His grand gestures as he put himself in harm's way, trying to protect you. You pretended to hate each other, but now you know that you never really did. 

The afternoon dragged on, the heat weighing heavy on everyone as boxes and furniture were piled into the truck. Eventually, you all finished and everything you owned was packed away. Steve grabbed a quick shower, rinsing the sweat from his body to make the long car ride more comfortable. You hugged your parents goodbye, urging them to come visit once everything was unpacked. The others still lingered, waiting to watch as you and Steve drove away. Tears filled their eyes and streamed down sweaty cheeks as you hugged each of the younger kids, promising to return for Thanksgiving. 

Steve began his round of goodbyes, mainly opting for a secret handshake or a ruffling of hair. Robin squeezed you so tightly that you thought she might crack one of your ribs. She sniffled as she pulled away, moving on to give Steve the same crushing embrace. Eddie stood before you, his head tilted towards the ground. You brushed his hair back from his face, catching sight of his tear-stained cheeks. He pulled you close, arms encompassing your frame. 

“You’ll call every week?” he spoke into your hair, burying his face in it to hide his swell of tears. You nodded against him, your own muffled cries slipping from your lips. He pulled back then, and Steve was right behind you.

Steve placed his hand on your back, guiding you to the front seat of the U-Haul. He said his goodbye to Eddie before joining you. Steve’s car was hooked up to the back of the truck and your parents planned to bring yours up with them when they came to visit.

You stood on the ledge of the truck admiring the sea of your friends that stood before you. They watched you with tearful eyes as you shot them one last watery smile and slid into your seat. Your gaze was pulled towards the side of your house, your bedroom window that sat across from Steve’s. It was funny to think how close he always was, even when he felt miles away. Steve’s hand brushed yours then, the tingle of skin pulling you from your thoughts.

“Ready to go, Baby?” Steve asked, reaching down to put the truck in gear. His hair was still wet, smelling of his lavender-scented shampoo. You ran your hands through it, brushing the loose strands to the side. Steve caught your hand, placing a small kiss on your palm before you could pull away. 

Sixth grade Steve was right, you were leaving with your things packed into boxes and a new city calling your name. But not because you were the worm girl that was running away. It wasn’t because this town had terrorized and taunted you to the point of no return. You were leaving because you wanted to, not because you felt forced out. And sixth grade Steve was wrong about you finding the love of your life once you left too, because you’d already found him, and for that Steve couldn’t be happier.

“With you?” you questioned, eyebrows raised, hand still encompassed by Steve’s. He nodded, showing you that smile that he reserved just for you. The same one he gave you as you sat on the sidewalk with dried worms newly relocated to the surrounding grass. You mirrored his look, gazing into his hazel eyes with all the love and adoration you had acquired for him over the years. “Always.”

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

most people think that steve is so soft and vanilla during sex, but tbh i think he can be pretty animalistic, too. throat grabbing? check. bruising touches? check. spanking? check. slight degradation? check. going slow, teasing you with soft sex, only to speed up and moan in your ear because it feels so much better? double check. eating you out like a man starved, shaking his head, moaning, fingering you as hard as he can? triple check.

[hellfiremunsonn]

Something About Her. Steve Harrington x Reader

Something About her.

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Summary: Steve is kind of obsessed with you, and you're kind of obsessed with him. Only ever watching from afar until a fight breaks out at the party you're both at.

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: fem!reader, physical altercation, reader gets backhanded by homophobic male character, brief mention of blood, forehead gets slightly cut, reader has a vagina, sex but not sex? No penetrative sex, fingering, Steve is called a f***** and a queer in a derogatory sense by a homophobic character at the party. (I will star it out anyway just incase any of you are uncomfortable with that) (IF THERES ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)

AN: Real quick, I don't condone using homophobic slurs towards anyone ever. This is not ME saying these things, it is a CHARACTER in the 80's saying those things. I myself am Queer so... ya know... I get it. NOT REALLY PROOF READ FOR MISTAKES JUST FOR THE VIBES (Huge thank you to my bby @rowanswriting for giving this a read through for me to make sure it wasn’t absolute garbage! love u <3)

Wordcount: 4k

Steve doesn't know when his fascination with you started, but he knows that once it did start he couldn't stop it. Anytime he was out at a party he was always looking for you. Subtly over the rim of his red cup, filled with whatever concoction that would get him buzzed the quickest. Personally he doesn't think it's stalking, because he doesn't follow you around any other time, but when he knows you're around, he's going to keep an eye out for you. Robin on the other hand, definitely thinks it's stalking and will make it a point to tease Steve about it whenever she can.

He's only talked to you a couple of times and the two of you wouldn't even consider each other friends but for some reason he always had to have an eye on you, and you always had an eye on him. 

Robin would constantly poke into his side and whispering about his "obsession" with you but he would just push her off and roll his eyes. Because someone as pretty as you would never look at him the same way. You were ethereal; Steve might actually believe it if you were from another world, considering he's had his fair share of experience of things that you'd think didn't exist.

He knows you watch him too. Praying you don't think it's weird for catching your eye one too many times, but being constantly enamoured by the way you move and speak, how you captivate everyone around you yet you're completely unaware of it. 

Robin decides that after watching the two of you eye fuck each other six more times that she's going to help. She skips over to you and you greet her with one of the brightest smiles he's ever seen.  The two of you talking together has four hands flying around with the dramatics of whatever story it is the pair of you have begun discussing and he's honestly surprised neither of you have hit one another in the face.

Steve still, stands with his back plastered against the wall, trying to ignore the dull thumping bass of whatever shitty music was playing, focusing hard on the way your lips moved, trying to get any sense at what you were saying. It takes him a minute to realize it's Robin you're talking to and he's more confused, zoning in on the way your tongue darts out to lick across your strawberry pink lips when he's interrupted from his thoughts by some beefy drunk, boy from high school trying to relive his glory days as he stumbles past him. 

He looks at Steve, looks at robin, and then back to Steve. He snickers "Damn Harrington, can't even get Robin to stick around with you? Maybe you are as queer as she is" he sways as he passes Robin and you. Robin freezes, before slowly looking back to Steve, praying tonight wasn't going to end with Steve beating someone up. Again. 

"Hey" Steves voice is loud, angry, startling almost everyone, despite how loud the music was. 

"Say what you want about me, but don't say shit about Robin alright?" Steve warns.

The drunken asshole makes his attempt to saunter up to Steve, getting far too close to his face before speaking "Or what pretty boy? Gunna get your boyfriend to come save you?" 

Steve can feel the hot air of his breath in his face, it reeks so badly of alcohol it almost smells like hand sanitizer. "Get lost man" Steve says shaking his head turning away from him, trying to distract himself from the prying eyes by above everyones heads, sipping his drink. 

What Steve doesn't notice is how ridged you've become and how hard your fists are shaking where they are clenched at your sides. 

He laughs, thinking he's won whatever show it is he's putting on for everyone and goes to leave before turning back to Steve. "F****t can't fight his own battles, what a pussy"

Before Steve can even fully turn around you've pushed past robin and are standing in front of the drunk, arm pulled back before your tiny fist makes contact with the dudes face. "What's your problem!" You yell.  Steve has never heard your voice so loud before. "You homophobic piece of shit? What decade were you born in saying shit like that?" Your hand hurts, like really bad, but you're too prideful to let him see you cry. No one is going to say shit like that about anyone around you, let alone Robin, or Steve. 

"Fucking bitch" he spits, blood filled saliva hitting the white tiled floor beneath your feet. His hand raises quick, and without a second thought he lands a single smack across your face with the back of his hand, and then walks away. You involuntary gasp at the impact, while the rest of the party goers shout and follow him but you can barely hear over the ringing in your ears, but you hope they beat the shit out of him outside. You feel a drip of blood form and start to slide down your face from where his large class ring made contact with the skin just above your eyebrow. Your hand trembles as it reaches up to touch the warm liquid before bringing your hand down to see your blood covered finger tips. 

When you look up, blurry faces stand around you, and they're all speaking at once, you're unsure where to look, or who to respond to when someone gently takes your hand, pulling you with them upstairs and away from the chaos below. Only when the click of the bathroom door locks do your senses start to come back and you realize you're standing in front of Steve Harrington and that tears had begun rolling down your cheeks.

At the same time you both blurt out "Are you okay?" and Steve laughs in amusement. 

"Am I okay? I'm not the one who sucker punched someone twice her size and is bleeding from her head!" he exclaims. He laughs again before muttering an "Oh shit" Grabbing at the nearest hand towel and running it under the faucet. "Come here, sit" he says patting the countertop. You watch him with wide doe eyes, pupils blown from the adrenaline coursing through you, but still you listen, slowly and a little robotically you lean against the counter, Steves large hand holding the side of your waist to help as you hop up onto the counter. He's talking, but you don't really hear him so instead you focus on watching him as he moves around the bathroom, finding things to help with the tiny wound on your forehead. 

He dabs the damp towel against your forehead quickly and abruptly. You wince and pull back, your two hands coming up to hold his wrist in place. 

"I'm sorry, shit, are you okay? I should have warned you first" 

"I'm sorry that guy said that" you say finally finding your voice, it's shaky and a little croaky but it's there. 

"Don't be, I've heard worse" he smiles and you let go of his wrist signalling to him that he can continue and so he does. "S'not so bad of a cut, just bled a lot cause it's on your head"

You laugh a little, and the relief Steve feels when he hears it skyrockets. "You've got quite the arm on you, more guys like him should be afraid of you"

You laugh again. "I've had some practice" you shrug and sniffle, pretending to play it cool. 

"Oh yeah? You beating up guys in the alleyways behind bars? Lemme see those guns" he pesters, lifting up the arm you used to throw your punch, and you flex it proudly. The muscle bulging and Steve gives it a squeeze. 

He wolf whistles. "Wow-ee that's some A plus muscle right there" he teases but short circuits when you look up at him. Mascara smudged just under your eyes from where the tears overflowed, cheeks rosy with a blush or from the adrenaline, he can't tell but his hand comes up to hold the side of your face anyway and he does everything he can to hold himself together when he feels you lean into his touch. 

"You're so pretty" he blurts, feeling the heat of your cheek under his palm when he says it. 

"So are you" you whisper. You can feel the trembling starting to begin in your bones as the adrenaline wears off, your body finally attempting to come down from the earlier altercation. Steve notices at the first twitch of your shoulder. 

"S-sorry" you stutter through your teeth as they begin to chatter along with the rest of your body. 

"Stop apologizing for things you can't control" he says taking your hands and placing them on the sides of his waist. He doesn't mean for it to be forceful or sexual when he does it, but his one hand comes between your legs and pushes them apart by your knees, positioning himself between them. "Here, hug me, it'll help with the shakes" He pulls you into him and you're thankful for the tightness of his arms around around you. You sigh into him, feeling the slightest bit of tension leave your shoulders. Steve notices and slides one hand to the back of your neck, pushing in just slightly at the base, massaging it until he feels your shoulders start to slump.

The groan that leaves you was almost pornographic, and Steve has to calm himself down immediately or you might be able to feel how much that little noise had affected him. Steve tried really hard, he did, but he's standing between your legs and you're so close to him that he knows if he shifted just a little you'd feel his dick press into your stomach. 

When the shaking starts to stop you lean back from him, head tilted up towards him but your eyes stay closed. Your hands still stationed on his hips, and Steve doesn't stop his fingers where they massage the base of your neck. 

"That feels really good" you sigh, eyes flitting open lazily. 

"Good" Steve says with a smile, his opposite hand coming up to push your hair back behind your ear. He watches as your eyebrows furrow slightly. 

"What's wrong?"

"N-nothing" you lie. It's the adrenaline. It's like when you come down from a really big cry, and your body doesn't know what to do with all the feelings so it sends them between your legs, making everything in you ache for someone to touch you, for Steve to touch you. You shift on the counter, legs instinctively trying to close, the rough fabric of his jeans rubbing against the insides of your thighs, teasing you. 

Steve can feel your heartbeat pick up from where his fingers are still pressed against your skin, and he's watching you with curious eyes. He can sense it, he knows, but he wont make a move unless you initiate it, anything, even if it's subtle. But you have to be the one to start it. With one too many run in's with the end of the world, Steve knows that sometimes when the adrenaline wears off the only thing you want to do is fuck.

"Is it your head?" He asks "Does it hurt?"

"It's not my head" you say as you shake it. "It hurts a little b-but I'm okay, really"

Steve hums, his pressing touch moving from your neck and you have to stop yourself from whimpering at the loss. 

"Look at me" he says and you do, eyes darting back and forth between his. "I just wanna make sure you don't have a concussion" he widens his stance, sliding his feet outwards until he's just about your height from where you sit, his big warm hands come up and cup either sides of your face while he assess you.

A loud crash followed by laughter startles the two of you jump slightly. Your hands grip onto Steves waist harder and he's moved forward so now the two of you are pressed together, and he can see it in your face when his stubbornly hard dick makes contact with you.

"Steve?" you say quietly, and he's already preparing an apology in his head. "Um I know we don't really know each other" You swallow thickly. "But um" you trail off, glancing to your hands and where they rest, thumbs slipping past the hem of his shirt, touching the warm skin of his belly. He inhales sharply, and you look at him mesmerized. 

"Are you sure you're not concussed?" he questions "Or did that guy really hit me instead and I'm unconscious having a wonderful dream right now?"

You giggle and his cock strains in his jeans. 

"I don't wanna have sex with you though" you say quickly. "I mean now, right now, I definitely want to have sex with you, I just, not in a bathroom at a party? I wanted to- shit" You scrunch your eyes closed and take a breath before looking back at him. "I wanted to ask you on a date first"

"You wanted to ask me? Me on a date?" Steve says quietly. 

You nod, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. So shy, yet so brave.

'I'm fucked' He thinks. 'I'm going to fall in love with her'

"C-can, we um, can we touch each other? Is that okay?" your hands hold him a little tighter and his stomach tenses. 

"Y-yeah, please, can I kiss you?" he asks desperately and you nod, your hands finally reaching up to cup his face. He grabs you by the hips and slides you closer to the edge of the counter, your old converse hitched on the sides of his waist, pressed against his brown leather belt. Your crotch now pressed against his jean covered cock, and he realizes you've been wearing a dress the entire time he's been stood between your legs, and only now has caught a glance at the pretty pink panties you wear. 

You whimper when he kisses you. His lips soft and plump just like you had thought they would be, and the tiny groan he lets out goes straight to your cunt and your hips jump ever so slightly. You kiss each other feverishly, sloppy and quick. Every kiss, every smack of your lips, every move of his tongue has your stomach flipping and your hips rolling into him. He's grinding into you without a single care, he could cum like this and wouldn't dare be embarrassed about it when you look like that under him. How could he not. 

He does almost bust his load immediately when your hands go for his belt, quickly unbuckling it and tugging at the button and zipper until it's all the way down. He breaks the kiss to watch you do it. 

"Is this okay?" you ask, fingers dipped into the waistband of his boxers.

"You could do anything you want with me right now and I wouldn't care" He jokes. "So yes this is more than okay"

"Can you touch me too?" You ask with your baby Bambi eyes and god Steve nearly loses it. How can you ask him something so dirty but make it sound so sickly sweet. 

"God, yeah, of course I can sweet thing" he says sliding his hands up your thighs until he's under the hem of your red dress, it's covered in dainty little white flowers, and he thinks it looks perfect on you. He searches for the band of your panties before tugging at them until you shift, letting him slide them out from under you until they're dangling off your right ankle that is still stationed on his hip. 

His fingers slide easily through your slick and he groans. "Fucking christ"

You giggle again, sighing when he grazes your clit and your knees instinctively try to lock together.

"It's taking everything in me not to bury my face in your cunt right now Jesus Christ, look at her" he praises, watching his shiny fingers and the way they move against you, the way your hips twitch to meet them. 

"Her?" you ask.

"Your pussy babe" he says obviously.

Your entire body engulfs in heat, and you can't tell if you're embarrassed that he's talking about your pussy like it's a person, or if it's turning you on even more. 

"O-Oh my god" you say, your words slipping into a moan mixed with a gasp. Head tilting back until it hits the mirror behind you. 

"Jesus baby, let's keep your head intact alright?" he jokes, pulling you into him with one hand, placing it protectively on the back of your head as you bury your face into the crook of his neck while his finger traces your entrance. Your brain buzzes with electricity and you forget that just seconds before you were tugging at Steves jeans, but then he touched you. 

He circles your hole a few times, before easily sliding one of his fingers into you. You whine, open mouth, almost drooling where your mouth hovers against Steves skin. He leans back slightly, chin touching his chest to catch a glimpse at you to make sure the noise he heard come out of you wasn't a sob. But the thought of you crying because of his fingers? He can't imagine what it would be like to have you and your pussy crying on his cock.

"Feel good?" He teases. 

"So good" You moan, lifting your head from his neck, staring down to watch his finger curl into you. Forcing yourself to look away to continue your attention to his jeans. Hands shaky has they slip his belt through the loops, pulling at the button of his jeans and tugging the zipper down. You try your best to push his pants down enough to get your hand in so you can finally feel his cock but he's distracting. 

"F-fuck" you mewl, and it's high pitch and girly, and if you were alone you'd cringe at the sound. 

"Need some help?" Steve offers, stopping his movements and slowly removing his fingers from you, shiny and slick as he helps you to free his aching cock. 

"Thank you" you whisper. Once his cock is free you wrap your hand around him, thick, hot and heavy in your palm and he groans, tilting his head back a little before reaching a hand up to tap your cheek, ripping your gaze away from your hand to his eyes. 

"Open" hes looking down at you through his lashes, cheeks flushed a perfect pink and his chest moves quickly while you continue to jerk him off. You listen, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out and Steve huffs out a laugh as he slowly slides his two fingers into your mouth. The ones that were just buried in your cunt. You lap at them greedily, body buzzing from the approval when Steves hums in delight, head tiling to watch your mouth. 

You pull his fingers from your mouth with gasp. "I have an idea"

Steve raises a brow as you push forward until you slide off of the counter, turning around so your ass is how facing him, both of you looking at each other through the reflection of the mirror. Watching you as you lean your hips against the counter, pulling him towards you by his belt until he's almost touching you. Reaching behind you, you take his cock into your hand, stepping onto your tippy toes until its slid between your thighs, pressed against your leaking pussy. 

"Fucking without fucking" you say with a smile. Your hand presses lightly against him so the tip of his cock stays connected to you while Steve moves his hips. 

Sliding through your folds over and over as he mimics how he'd snap his hips against you if he were able to fuck you properly. It's probably the hottest things Steve has ever done with anyone, and he knows that he will think about this every single day until the day he dies, and he's absolutely content with that. 

His hands move to your hips, where he grips you tightly. Your dress sliding up with each thrust until the swell of your ass is exposed before him. Rippling with each thrust against his lower half, and he tries to stop himself, he does, but he can't. He lets his palm come down on your right cheek, a little harsh, and goes to apologize but the way your knees shake, and the moan that slips out from you tells him you liked it. 

"M'so c-close Steve" you force out. Your cheek is pressed against the cold marble top of the counter, and you're pretty sure you're drooling onto it but you couldn't care less with how good Steve is making you feel. "Steve I-" You can barely keep your legs up, but your trying. 

"Help" you whimper, and Steve knows what you need immediately. Wrapping a large arm around your waist, holding up most of your weight while still snapping his hips. 

"I got ya pretty girl" he mumbles into the skin of your shoulder. 

"Are you gunna cum Stevie?" You moan, silently begging he's as close as you are. 

"So close" he grunts. "Wanna see that face of yours when you cum, can you do that for me?" He asks sliding his hand into your hair until he's got a tight grip on the roots, tugging gently to instruct you to lift your head up. He doesn't want to be too rough with you just yet, not when you haven't properly been able to have that conversation. 

Lifting your head with his direction until you're forced to look at yourself and Steve in the mirror. He looks so pretty, face flushed, mouth slightly agape, his bottom lip slick with saliva. You could cry at how pretty he was. 

"Steve, Steve, st-eve, I'm gun-NAH!" you cum hard, all over your hand and his cock. Thighs trembling. 

"Fuck you're so hot" Steve mutters. "Gunna cum sweetheart where do-"

"On me, please I want it on me" You say almost frantically. Steve turns your around, helping you sit back up onto the counter so your legs are spread and he's stationed between them. Pumping his cock fast, the noise crude as it echos around the bathroom, slick with your arousal. 

"Fuck, fuck baby" Steve says through gritted teeth.

And you're smiling, and nodding, eyes glassed over and so fucked out, and he thinks he might marry you seeing the way you want him, and his cum so badly. He loses it when your hand joins his around him with those final few pumps, and his cum shoots across your stomach dripping down your connected hands to the base of his cock. 

He's panting and smiling, and trying to hold back a laugh, watching the way his cum drips down your body, down between the crease where your thigh meets hip, lazily flowing down to join the mess between your legs. 

You giggle, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you wait till Steve finally looks up at you. 

"You're insane" he laughs, grabbing your face with both hands and kisses you quick. 

"Only a little" you say between kisses. "Take me home?" you ask bravely. 

"Anywhere" Steve says quickly. he tugs his jeans back up, stuffing himself back into his pants, and adjusts his belt. You hop down from the counter and attempt to fix your hair so it looks a little better. Kicking one foot up behind you, you tug your panties off your ankle and turn to face Steve, shoving them into the front pocket of his jeans. Steve swoons at the sly look in your eyes, and the way you didn't even attempt to clean his cum off of you when the two of you turn to leave the quiet confines of the bathroom.

You giggle again when he interlocks his fingers with yours, letting him pull you along through the sea of people and out onto the front lawn down the street and only a few blocks away until you reached Steves house. 

"Yeah"  Steve thought. "I'm gunna marry her"

thanks for reading! <3

[bbyhellfire]

mondays are for steddie threesomes (dom!eddie x sub!steve x sub!fem!reader)

mdni 18+ only, bdsm elements, bondage, vibrator use, overstimulation, edging, bratty!steve, reader begs steve to cum, pls excuse any typos!

Dom!Eddie keeping sub!Steve and sub!Reader bound together tightly with a vibrator between you. Neither of you can move, other than grind against the toy and smash your lips together. You've already cum twice, but Steve is doing everything he can to hold off his orgasm.

"Eddie, pleaseeee," The way you whine makes you drop your head in embarrassment. Your eyes look down at the buzzing toy between the two of you. Your thighs and cunt are soaked, the signs of your two orgasms painfully obvious from the wetness covering your cunt and thighs.

You and Steve had a pact to hold off cumming for as long as possible. A bratty attempt at solidarity which would have worked if you hadn't come so embarrassingly quickly.

"You know the rules, sweetheart," Eddie's tone paints you a picture of his condescending smile. "You're in this together. If you cum, Steve has to cum."

Steve groans in retaliation, "Come on, man..."

"Rules are rules, Stevie," Eddie walks over to you both, pressing his chest against your back. "Just let go, I know you're close."

For extra measure, Eddie presses a finger against the swollen head of Steve's cock. Your thoughts are as rattled as your cunt, your only connection to earth is focusing on the way a large bubble of precum bursts under Eddie's finger.

"Fuck!" Steve yells, his body pulling on the ropes binding you both together, although he doesn't get far. His body jerking movement only pushes the vibrator harder against your overstimulated pussy. Eddie chuckles at his reaction before placing his precum-soaked finger against your bottom lip. Instinctively, your lips wrap to suck away the salty taste of Steve.

"He's almost there, sweetheart," Eddie coos in your ear. "But I think he needs a little encouragement. Why don't you ask him to cum?"

You're a babbling mess as Eddie increases the speed of the vibrator. "Steve, please. Please, please cum for us. For me. Can you do it for me? You always look so pretty when you cum. I was good and came. I can be good for you, too. Please just cum, please Steve! I-I don't think I can..."

[keerysfreckles]

time after time — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: steve's longing glance to y/n makes him decide to stay at the hawkin's middle school snow ball.

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, steve being a goofball, STEVE FLUFF!!!!!!

a/n: thanks cindy lauper for writing time after time and for my pookie wifey @keerysbrowneyes <3

masterlist !

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steve harrington had a very interesting fall of 1984. he never thought he'd fight off inter-dimentional monsters again, and especially didn't see himself becoming friends with five middle schoolers.

so he wasn't too surprised while driving dustin henderson to his eight grade winter formal.

"you're gonna go in there," steve starts a pep-talk, "looking like a million bucks."

dustin nods in agreement, before flipping the passenger side visor down, examining his hair once more.

steve grunts while flipping the visor back up. he continues his pep-talk quickly, and makes sure to remind dustin to keep the lion purr out of tonight's vocabulary.

just as steve was about to pull out of the school's parking lot, a figure caught his eye. y/n l/n's figure to be exact. her light purple dress with slightly ruffle sleeves made steve's heart swoon. of course she was wearing her very worn out chuck taylor's to chaperone the dance. steve couldn't remember the last time he saw the girl wearing heels.

he watched for another moment as y/n handed two drinks to two younger girls. steve smiled when y/n did, and he knew he had to do something about it.

the whole time as he was parking his car and walking towards the gym entrance, he made a pro and con list of the decision.

pros; y/n might actually want to see him after he ignored her for a whole week, maybe he'll get to kiss her, and he just wanted to see how pretty she looked up close.

cons; she'd punch him in the face (again), she might not be ready to be face-to-face with the brunette, or she'll simply laugh once steve walks in the double doors.

what could go wrong? he thought, just as he opened the door and walked by mr. clarke.

an upbeat song was playing over the speakers while steve walked under the blue and white arched balloons. to his left, jonathan was taking pictures. in the middle were all the students, either milling around the sides, or dancing in more crowded area. and to his right, was y/n standing at the punch table.

steve felt his heart skip a beat before his feet drug him over to the poorly decorated refreshment table.

he looked over y/n's appearance once again before he was fully in front of her. her purple dress stopped just above her knees, and her hair was pulled back out of her face with a few pieces framing her soft features.

"steve!" y/n smiles once he walks up to the table, "where have you been? i haven't heard from you in a couple of days."

steve chuckles while hiding the truth, "yeah, it's just been pretty busy with senior year."

y/n nods in agreement before steve speaks again.

"how's the drink table going? anybody try and spike the punch yet?"

y/n lets out a laugh, "it's going, and i haven't seen anyone with a hidden flask yet."

a moment of comfortable silence passes before a slower song blares over the speakers and into the gym. most students grab a partner and start slowing swaying back and forth. a lightblub appeared above steve's brown hair.

"do you want to dance?"

the question immediately caught y/n off gaurd. the steve harrington, the boy who she has liked since third grade was asking if she wanted to dance with him.

"i- uh- what about the drink station?" y/n's face grows hot as she stammers out an answer.

"nancy's got it," steve gestures his head behind y/n, making her turn to see nancy walking up behind her.

"go have fun," nancy talks softly after patting y/n away from the table and towards steve.

she lets out another laugh as steve simply holds out his hand. she gladly takes it, and her heart skips at the feeling of his skin on hers. his warm hand encasing her cold one.

steve leads y/n out to the crowd of seventh and eighth graders. she can't help but laugh at how out of place she seems in the middle school gymnasium, but she couldn't care. because she was with steve harrington.

"cmon don't go all stiff on me l/n," steve teases after putting his hands on her waist. the girl's face only grows a darker shade of red while placing her hands on his firm, broad shoulders.

at the same time, the pair subtly look over each other. steve looks over y/n's simple makeup, just blush and mascara. he didn't know how she looked even more beautiful than before. y/n chuckled slightly at his attire, consisting of a red longsleeve, jeans, and of course his red nike's.

"i'm sorry i haven't reached out this past week," steve admits.

y/n shakes her head, while the two were now slowing swaying in circles as the song continued.

"it's okay steve, really. i get it, senior year has been stressful for everyone."

steve wishes he could tell y/n the truth. but he doubts she'd believe him if he said he fought of monsters the past two years, got his ass beat by billy hargrove, and became close to dustin henderson.

steve and y/n both got lost in each other's eyes. she could look into his chocolate brown eyes for hours on end and not get bored. her eyes drifted to his other features. the small creases around his eyebrows while he seemed focused on something, she wanted to run her fingers over the skin to smooth it out. the freckles on his cheeks and moving down his neck, she needed to kiss every single one. the slight smirk he always had adorning his lips, she wished she could just kiss the smirk off his face.

y/n got lost in her daydreaming, she could've sworn steve was leaning closer to her than before.

she didn't want to believe it, but she was leaning in closer as well.

"steve," y/n's voice is quiet, she fears no sound even came out of her mouth.

steve's lips were now centimeters away from y/n's. their foreheads were almost touching, and the thought of steve kissing her only made her dizzy.

however, she knew steve would catch her, feeling as his grip hardened on her waist. he leaned even closer, touching his lips to hers.

his lips were softer than y/n ever imagined. her hands move to the back of his neck, running her fingertips over the soft curls while her thumbs were on his cheeks. steve's hands held y/n so tightly, even if she did fall, she wouldn't have noticed. he held her close, deepening the kiss slightly before pulling away.

both of their lips were a darker shade now, and both teens were slightly out of breath.

to try and seem cool about the whole ordeal, y/n leans forward to place her head on steve's chest. she could hear his heartbeat, as it seemed to pick up slightly at her action.

steve smiled to himself. he actually kissed her. y/n l/n, the girl he's adored since the fifth grade formal actually kissed him back.

steve kissed the top of y/n's head, and internally thanked his younger self for the growth spurt, now making him at least seven inches taller than the girl in his arms.

the song was coming to a close, but steve didn't want this moment to end.

"do you want to get milkshakes?"

[96kurtswrld]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚🦋˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡

guys tmi i'm ovulating i'm so sorry i gotta share my thoughts nsfw 18+ minors shoo, fem reader, thigh riding, regular riding, creampie (whoops), wrap it before you tap it guys pls, a little nipple play. steve is so handsy and so mouthy i'm sorry. fem nicknames like honey, pretty girl, good girl, baby ect. flustered fem reader (is that a warning? idk but i'll include it anyways), really just pure freaking filth tbh and it's probably a little inaccurate i am not a smut writer at all but i had to share okay enjoy pls

thinking about riding steve....it started as an innocent afternoon on the couch together. a rare day off of work for steve. there's a movie playing on the tv but you've since long forgotten about it, too focused on steve's hand that rests on your thigh. and then his hand had inched higher. and then before you knew it he had you in his lap, straddling one of his thighs as you ground against it. your head resting on his chest as you moved, his hands on your hips helping to guide you as he pressed soft kisses to your jaw. eventually the tent in his jeans is too much to ignore, and your undoing his button and pawing off his pants before he can even register it. he's slide his hands around to grab the front of your shirt, lifting it up and tossing it on the other end of the couch. his hands softly trace up the curve of your tummy until he's cupping a boob in each hand, kneading them. your head tilts back in a moan, steve taking advantage to lean forward and kiss your throat, his lips moving down your chest.

his hand cups your left breast while he kisses the right one, his lips closing around your nipple as he takes it between his teeth, gently biting on the hardened bud. a gasp leaves you, causing steve to smirk as he pulls off and does the same to the other side. his hands eventually fall to your hips, glancing down at the space between your laps. "gonna ride me, pretty girl?" he asks, his voice a low hum as he speaks to you. you nod your head at him, reaching down between your bodies to grab his hard, leaking cock. he shakes his head at you. "words, honey."

"yes, stevie. wanna ride you, please?" you beg softly, your hand still wrapped around his cock. he smirks at you again, the tease that he is, and gives you a nod of approval. "there's my good girl. go ahead, honey. make yourself feel good" he tells you, his eyes lidded as he licks his lips and leans his head back against the couch, eyes staring down at you carefully. he watches as you hover above him, lining yourself up before you oh so slowly slide down on his cock. you both let out small breaths of relief, giggling at each other as steve leans forward to press a kiss to your lips. he hums contentedly as he rests his hands on your hips, his grip gentle for now.

you start slow, rocking your hips back and forth on his cock as you lean forward to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing you closer to him. you press some light kisses to his jaw and neck, pulling more low moans out of him. eventually you move start to move faster, lifting yourself up and down. your walls feel delicious around his cock, warm and tight, gripping him the way you both enjoy. small pants escape youu as you work yourself up more and more. the wet sound of his cock slipping in and out of you filling the room. steve buries his face in your neck, small moans leaving him as you bounce on his cock. he pulls back slightly to look at you, captivated by your tits bouncing as you move.

steve leans forward again to bury his face in your neck, a low guttural groan leaving him as you work yourself closer and closer towards orgasm. he grips the fat of your hips roughly. "slow baby, slow...y'gonna kill me" he slurs against your neck. you whine at his words but do as he says, slowing your movements down to a soft roll of your hips again. "i was s'close" you pout, pulling yourself back until you can see his face again. he's got a lopsided smile on his face as he looks you up and down. "i know honey, i know" he sooths, his thumbs rubbing your hip. he leans forward again to press kisses to your chest, biting and kissing the skin until it turns that light purple color he loves to see. you moan out a whisper of his name, his cock twitching inside of you as he roughly kneads your hips. "don't wanna cum just yet" he mumbles against your chest, continuing to kiss across your chest, around your boobs, up to your shoulder, down your arm. you sigh and moan as he goes, it's music to steve's ears really. he loves pulling all those pretty little sounds out of you, making you feel good. he kisses his way back to the juncture of your neck, breathing in deeply before he starts rutting his hips upwards, a gasp turned moan falling from your lips. you grip his shoulders tightly, as he quickly picks up the pace, rutting up into you rough and fast. "steve....oh my god" you whine into his ear, he grips your hips hard. he lifts you up and down in time with his thrusts, making sure his cock is buried inside you deep before pulling out and slamming back in. his tip hits your cervix he's so deep.

"come on, honey. cum for me, yeah?" he begs right in your ear, his teeth gently nipping the lobe as he thrusts. "feel so good baby, christ" he whines, his pace frantic as he gets close himself, but he wants you to cum first. you pant and whine against his chest, feeling the coil in your lower stomach tightening. what throws you over the edge is one of steve's hands sliding down towards your cunt, the rough pads of his fingers finding your clit. your so sensitive and on the edge that it only takes another second after that for you to cum. steve slows as you cum, you can feel his smile against your neck as he helps you ride out your high. you involuntarily squeeze around him as you come down, the feeling surprising steve. he cums inside of you with a gasp of your name, his entire body going rigid as he softly ruts up into you to ride out his own high now. he presses kisses on your chest, kissing up your neck until he gets to your face. he presses three quick kisses to your lips, a fourth lingering kiss follows. he smiles against your lips and runs his hands up your sides, his touch featherlight and a complete contrast from the rough grip he had on your hips. "my beautiful girl, did so good for me" he praises quietly.

the rest of the night consists of actual cuddling and movie watching, snuggled up together on the couch under the same blanket, soft touches and shy smiles shared between the two of you until it's time to get ready for bed. of course, not without a second, proper round where steve can do all the work, letting his girl simply lay there and feel good.

[sweetyyhippyy]

Forgotten Anniversary. Steve Harrington x Fem! Reader. *FLUFF*

Summary: A few weeks after the birth of their baby girl, Steve's wife forgets an important date.

Word Count: 1k

TW: Talking about birth and labor, being forgetful, crying.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been a blurry 2 weeks after the birth of their first baby, little Mia Alexandra Harrington.

She was an 8 pound 2 ounce little peanut, born with a lot more hair than anyone had thought.

Mia had come a few weeks earlier than expected. The birthing experience was exhausting, plus some complications during labor caused both of them to stay in the hospital for 5 extra days than they had expected.

Steve had been the most incredible man the entire time. He held his wife's hand and was by her side the entire labor process, feeding her ice chips at her request, fanning her face, kissing her head when she cried from the pain, and praised her the entire time she was pushing, encouraging her to keep going, and not letting her give up when she told him she couldn’t do it.

He had taken the fatherhood role like a champ, doing most of the diaper changes that way she didn’t have to lift. Even in the middle of the night when she was nursing, he got up with both of them, getting her some snacks or water, whatever she wanted or needed. She always had his support, and she was so thankful for it.

Both of them were exhausted between Mia mixing up her days and nights, trying to navigate through the slight colic she had, both of them taking turns trying to soothe her so the other didn’t get too overwhelmed.

Today was a bit of a rough day, Mia was uncomfortable and let everyone know it. Like always, Steve and her took turns trying to relieve the gas in her tummy to make her feel better, but Mia was not having any of it.

She wanted to be held close or to be fed, and if either of them thought about putting her down, she was going to make both of them regret it.

Steve watched as Mia fed from his wife on and off all day, feeling bad that she was in pain from her breasts being so sensitive. Her oversized shirt was covered in spit up and soda that she had spilled on herself during lunch accidentally. But she was far too tired and sore even still to go change.

Steve had run out to go get her some ice cream, a treat that both of them had deserved after today, so it had just left her and their baby girl in the living room watching reruns of The Golden Girls, one of her guilty pleasure shows.

She watched their baby girl next to her on the couch fast asleep and slightly milk drunk. She studied her face, trying to determine if she had her nose or Steve’s (it was most definitely Steve’s), if she had her lips or Steve’s (hers), and who she was going to get her personality from.

From behind the couch she could hear the lock turn, meaning Steve was home. She shifted on the couch, watching him come in with a smile on her face. It wasn’t until he turned around that she saw a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“Stevie, you got me flowers?” She melts inside, beaming at her husband.

Steve rounds the couch, handing her the flowers. “I wanted to do something nice for you today.”

“Aww, aren’t you sweet? I know today has been hard, but I finally got her down when you were gone.”

“Well actually… today is our anniversary.” Steve says awkwardly.

Her eyes grow wide at his words, her heart falling into her stomach at the realization that she had forgotten their wedding anniversary. “Steve, oh my god. Steve, I'm so sorry!”

“No, honey! It’s not your fault. There’s been so much going on the past few weeks, both of us have been in baby land and we’ve barely gotten any sleep.”

Tears start to burn her eyes as she stares at her husband, guilt running through her body. “You still remember our anniversary. I totally spaced it. I feel so awful.” The tears start to roll down her cheeks, quickly trying to wipe them away.

“Honey, it’s okay. I promise I’m not mad or upset that it slipped your mind.” Steve comes next to her on the couch, kissing her forehead and wrapping his arm around her. “You’ve had a lot going on, you spent 8 and a half months growing our daughter in your belly, you spent 19 hours in labor and you had such hard labor. You’ve been crushing it with breast feeding since we’ve been home.”

She looks into her husband’s eyes, guilt still riddled on her face. “I’m so sorry, Stevie.”

Steve softly kisses her lips twice, nudging his nose against hers. “Not to be a total goob, but you kind of did give me the best anniversary present of all. You gave me my first born, that’s a pretty good anniversary present.”

She smiles at his words, resting her forehead against his. “You’re such a goob. I promise I’ll make this up to you.”

“No rush, honey. We have a lot more anniversaries in our future for us to celebrate.”

“I love you so much, Stevie.” She kisses his lips, the sudden cry from their daughter interrupting them.

Steve laughs as he pulls away from his wife. “We also have a lot more intimate moments being interrupted by our children to look forward to.”

“Children? How many more children of yours do you think I’m bearing?” She jokes, grabbing the crying infant and quietly shushing her. “This one tried to kill me.”

Steve puts his hands out, requesting the baby from her. She hands him the baby and her spit up rag, smiling from ear to ear as she watches Steve settle her against his chest.

“You think I was kidding when I said I wanted six?” He raises his eyebrows, laughing to himself as he walks out of the room to go change his daughter.

“Steven Harrington, I already said I was not giving birth six times. You’ve lost your mind.” She slowly gets off the couch, following him to finish scolding him.

“You don’t have to give birth six times, we can always try for twins.” He calls back to her, the grin on his face prominent in his words.

[pouringmyheartoutforpaper]

this is for the girlies (or anyone) that sometimes forget to eat or drink for a while until they feel really sick, and need a personal stevie to force feed them sandwiches.

robin and eds had just left steve’s house, leaving you both there alone. and once you told them goodbye you were hit with a wave of nausea, along with a crippling headache. you staggered into steves kitchen whilst he was cleaning up the board game in the living room and leaned over the sink. trying to breathe deeply in the hopes it would make you feel less like you were going to pass out. steve came in, and was going to pick you up and spin you in his arms when he saw your position.

“baby, whats wrong? you okay? what happened?” he asked, worry lacing his voice.

you turn around to answer him, but you don’t feel like you are able to form words. thankfully, steve can tell enough by how pale you look, like all the color has drained from your body.

“jesus christ baby, woah, sit-sit down” he said, picking you up and placing you onto the kitchen island.

your head felt heavier now, and you slumped over onto his shoulder. he attempted to ask you more questions, to which he only received a whimper from you. he needed to get you water but he couldn’t leave you unsupported, so he carried you into the living room and lowered you onto the couch.

“ill be right back, babydoll.” he said, mostly to himself before he performed the quickest water-run known to man. coming back and propping you up slightly and putting the straw you your lips, “drink.”

you did as you were told, and after sucking on the straw and lazily staring at him until the entire glass was empty, you took a deep breath.

“what the hell was that, baby? what happened?” he asked softly.

“i dunno, jus’ don’ feel good” you replied.

“yeah? what have you eaten today?” he asked.

you stared at him as you recalled your day. and slowly he watched your eyes turn from contemplation to guilt.

“baby,” he warned, “what have you eaten today.”

you sunk into the sofa behind you.

“i forgot, stevie.” you frowned at him, and he sighed.

“have you had any water?”

“you just gave me some!”

“i mean before that, doofus.”

you shook your head no, pouting moodily at him and lying back onto the couch. you felt tears well up in your eyes, everything seemed to be much bigger than it was. you were very embarrassed; and in your hungry, dehydrated brain, steve was very disappointed in you, and could not believe his girlfriend was so stupid as to forget to eat or drink. this was obviously very much not the case, and steve did not think that about you. as the flood came, you attempted to hide it, but he tool your hands and began soothing you instantly.

“hey, hey, look, its okay. you’re okay. shh.” he brushed the sweaty hair out of your face, “need you to lie down while I get you somethin’ to eat, okay? youre probably tired too, honey.”

you nodded tearily, and let him lie you back down. he went into the kitchen and made you a nice toasted sandwich just the way you like it, with a glass of water and a coke. he came back and sat next to you, giving you the food and setting the drinks onto the coffee table. you ate quickly, and were more than halfway through your sandwich when you looked up at him and realized how much better you felt. he raised his eyebrows at you, and you giggled.

“you feel better?” he asked. which only reduced you into a fit of more giggles. he shook his head and pulled you into his lap, whispering into your ear, “you drive me crazy, lady.” he laughed. “your hangry-ness needs to be psychologically evaluated.”

you stuck your tongue out at him and finished your meal before turning back around to him and wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your noses together.

“i’m sorry, thank you stevie.” you said, and kissed him softly.

“it’s okay lovey,” he took your hand into his, “no big deal, just gotta remember to eat, goofball.” he replied.

“why’d i do that when i have a perfectly good personal chef and doctor here?” you said, receiving an eye roll.

“alright sleeping beauty, lets get you a nap. and then all your needs will be full.” he said, taking your hand and guiding you into hie bedroom.

“well… not all of them.”

you received yet another eye roll, but this time it was accompanied by a deep scarlet blush.

[fizziedoodle]

dating steve harrington ⚘

[strangerstilinski]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Watch out, don't look. She's your nightmare of a dream. Go home, run fast… Blood's her favorite shade of red. Say your prayers and go to bed.

warnings; no use of y/n, fem!reader, reader referred to as a girl twice i think?, blood, blood is a big plot point here, reader isn't exactly human, a little vampiric?, eddie & dustin kind of come to the rescue, steve centric though, oral sex, penetrative sex, just to be clear reader doesn't hurt steve or make him bleed, she just craves blood, don't let the insp. fool you this is actually very soft

(loosely inspired by jennifer's body)

word count; ~10k

a/n; i had a couple of drinks and watched jennifer's body and suddenly i couldn't think about anything but this. did this turn out a lot longer and little softer than i initially intended?? yes! yes it did. idk what to tell you.

please think about leaving a comment/reblogging if you enjoy! x

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+

Everything's a bit foggy when you first wake.

Your memories, or lack thereof, refuse to come when you dig through the recesses of your mind, no clues or wisps of recollection trickling in no matter how strongly you will them to come. An ache forms in your temples as you attempt to recall where you are, where you've been, how you got here.

Where even was here?

A gust of wind rushes over your bare skin and prompts the distantly familiar rustle of leaves and branches that always accompanies a breeze in the woods. Every inch of your exposed flesh pebbles up uncomfortably from the cold, hairs on your arm standing on end, nipples tightening into hard peaks, stomach tensing as you fight off a full-body shiver.

Then comes the slow twitch of your fingers. The ability to move your extremities slowly creeps back in, allowing your hand to curl loosely around the cool earth underneath you, dirt and rocks and long-dead leaves wedging themselves beneath your fingernails.

Gravel and twigs crunch beneath your head when you roll it ever so slightly to the side and crack your eyes open. Through cloudy vision, you fight to focus on the spring-blooming trees above. It's overly difficult, that simple task of keeping your eyes open through the slow fluttering blinks, your eyelids heavy and leaden as you struggle to adjust to the dark twilight around you.

A groan rumbles up your throat when you drag yourself up, legs shaking, ankles weak, vision wavering. Bleary eyes take in the way that the trees seem to sway around you, take in the sun just cresting the horizon, and finally, when you stumble and your gaze drops, they take in the blood covering your naked body. Streaks of it down your chest so thick that the color of your nipples underneath is indistinguishable from your bare skin. It covers your stomach with a shade of red so dark it nearly looks black in the dim light of early morning, dripping down your pelvis and smearing wetly into the crease of your thighs. The warmth of it has already begun to dwindle and cool against your skin from the chill of the air and your palm meets the blood-soaked skin of your lower belly on instinct, hazy vision zeroing in on the way the color looks against your fingertips as thick droplets fall from your hand to the earth below.

Someone else's blood? Or your own?

The lack of recollection has fear slithering its way up the length of your spine and you do shiver this time. Cold and lost, you're overwhelmed with a niggling feeling of hunger swirling in your gut, the strength of it unlike anything you've ever felt before. A cold pit of hollow emptiness paired cruelly with a stabbing pain in your abdomen. The ache only seems to amplify the dryness in your throat, the tremble in your dirt and blood-crusted fingers.

Everything feels heavier than it should — Clumsier. One of your hands shoots out when you stumble over your own feet. You brace yourself against a tree as you try to refamiliarize yourself with the way that each your muscles and limbs work, every movement requiring too much effort. Each small step in your body feeling alien and forced, unnervingly foreign.

It's while your head continues to throb painfully against your skull that your fingertips find a smooth patch of wood. You rub at that place where the bark has been deliberately stripped away from the tree's trunk, the surface providing a blank canvas for the initials that have been clumsily etched into the living wood. While you dig your fingernail into the curve of that first letter, you take a deep breath to steady yourself.

As your lungs fill, a dark fog further clouds your already muddled brain. It's no longer the smell of the earth and the trees of the forest around you that rush to your senses. Instead, your nose is suddenly filled with the scent of teakwood, nicotine, and spice — mingling sweetly with something warm that you can't quite place, but makes your belly flip with interest all the same.

Mind clouded and knees shaky, you push away from the tree, some vague sense of rightness pulling you a step to the right, and then another, until you're wandering slowly to the edge of the forest and toward the road that lays just beyond the treeline.

Your throat itches painfully as you recall the scent that lingered behind and clung to that carving in the tree trunk. It burns in your throat. It pushes your feet to move faster. The smell as well as the shape of the letters that are now etched behind your eyelids.

S. H.

Wind of his own creation whips against Steve's face as he pushes through the exhaustion and wills his body to keep going. Sweat trickles down from his hairline, cresting his brow bone and streaking a path over his temple before the tickle of it forces Steve to hook his fingers into the damp fabric of his shirt, his shoulder lifting to wipe the droplet away.

His heavy breaths cloud in barely visible puffs of foggy condensation in the cool morning air, the heat building beneath his skin from exertion causing a pink flush to creep up the tanned skin of his neck and face.

The deserted street holds only the soft sound of his tattered running shoes slapping against the pavement with each stride, the sharp huffs of air that push through his nose with every breath in and out, the muffled beat of the music that trickles out from the foam pads he has hooked over his ears, a wire winding down to the walkman clipped at the waistband of his shorts.

The sun creeps up higher with each minute that passes, each mile toward downtown and then each mile back toward his tiny two bedroom fixer-upper on the outskirts of Hawkins. The dark blue of the morning sky is giving way to a lighter shade tinged with orange, the trees that hug the pavement blocking out most of the morning light that begins to creep back into the world.

Dim streaks of gold filter through the dusty window panes in his kitchen when he finally makes it home. Headphones still slotted over his ears, the music streaming through them blocks out the sound of his own labored breathing as he fills a glass of water from the sink.

The pipes groan with the effort and the front door creaks ominously on its hinges as it swings open again just outside the kitchen. Meanwhile, Steve gulps down the cool water, grateful for the way it soothes the dryness in his raw throat. The slow drag of bare feet across the battered floorboards go unheard as Steve quickly finishes his glass and fills it once more, sipping more slowly the second time around.

As you shuffle farther into the house, the first thing that you notice is how potent his scent is in the space. Every inch of the small house seems to be soaked in it; the heap of fabric hanging from the coat rack against the wall, the cushions on the battered sofa in the living room and the fleece blanket folded over the back, even the porous wood of the table and chairs is absolutely drenched in the smell of him.

The strength of it is overwhelming and it only proves to hypnotize you further as you step into the room behind him. The boy's overheated skin is giving off a delicious mix of sweetness with just a tinge of the sour stench of his sweat. You can practically feel the warmth of his blood and flesh on your tongue and it makes your mouth water, makes your chest tight with anticipation and excitement that you don't quite understand.

You can focus on little else, barely able to register the haphazardly cut off sleeves of the stranger's tshirt or the way that those gaping holes exposes the sides of his pecs and the hair beneath his arms. You hardly notice the way that his tiny cotton shorts hug his muscular thighs so wonderfully, nor the way that long hazelnut locks curls wetly around the sweatband that holds the hair back from his face.

The scent of him so close is intoxicating, the hunger in your gut too all-encompassing to truly relish in the way his shoulders strain beneath sweat-soaked cotton when he lifts a cup of water to his mouth.

Your feet carry you forward with a primal sort of instinct, until you're mere inches from the man's unsuspecting back, until you can see the drop of sweat that weaves out from beneath his hair and drips beneath the collar of his shirt.

Something prickles at the back of Steve's neck then, as you crowd closer, tiny hairs at the top of his spine standing on end while discomfort scrapes at the corner of his brain. It prompts him to turn, and the glass in his hand slips from his grasp and cracks loudly against the floor when he flinches in surprise. His headphones fall from his ears and settle to hang around his neck just in time for him to hear the sound of glass and water shattering against the kitchen tile.

Steve clutches at his own chest, “Jesus fucking-”

Though you're not sure why, you don't immediately attack. Something has you holding back, the ache in your throat burning like fire when you breathe him in again. His scent clings to the oxygen in a way that has your breath catching in your chest.

Steve's heart is pounding in his ears over the distant sound of the music that continues to blare through the headphones around his neck, but when he finally focusses on the sight of you in front of him, any fear for his own well-being is gone, flipping entirely until the sole focus of his worry is on you.

The stranger standing in his kitchen is looking at him with the hollow gaze of someone haunted, someone with demons. You look like you've been through hell, or perhaps like you've just stepped off the set of a slasher movie. Your hair is a tangled mess of twigs and leaves. The warm orange light filtering in through the windows displays curves of your naked body, blood covering the vastness of your exposed skin. He can't immediately make out an injury beneath all of the red, but it doesn't stop him from ripping his walkman from his body and tossing it in the counter behind him to finally silence the music and give you his full attention.

“Holy shit, what-”

You find the rasp of his voice delicious. Your head tips just slightly to one side as you finally allow yourself to take him in. He's beautiful, this scrumptious smelling stranger. You find yourself wanting to sink your teeth into the curve of his shoulder to hear the cry that would rip from his throat in response, want to feel his blood — warm and heavy and thick on your tongue.

“Are you okay? Fucking- Fuck, of course you're not okay,” He stammers in a panic, struggling with the effort of keeping his gaze from trailing over your exposed body. His hands twitch like he wants to reach out for you but is unsure how you might react to his touch — the thought forces the corner of your lip to tick up in a nearly imperceptible hint of a grin as he continues, “Shit, who- Who hurt you?” His eyes go soft, big and brown, wide and worried for your well-being, “Can you tell me what happened t'you, honey? C’you tell me who did this?”

The term of endearment that slips into his words has your stomach fluttering despite the bone-deep ache of hunger eating away at you. You give a small, wordless shake of your head, lips parting to take in another breath. As the air rushes in through your mouth, you find that you can taste him on your tongue, and the sweetness makes saliva pool behind your teeth to the point that you're forced to swallow it down.

“No? You don't know or.. Or you don't remember?” He questions carefully, his gaze trailing over a streak of blood at your hairline, “Did you hit your head?”

Another breath in through your mouth has your eyes fluttering, your exhale a trembling sounding thing as it pushes back out of your chest.

He seems to take your tremor as a sign of trauma-induced fear rather than what it truly is, and he stumbles a small step back, his attention moving to the basket of unfolded laundry sitting atop the washing machine at the other side of the room.

“Shit, lemme, uh, I'll just grab you a shirt or something and we can call-”

He's taking another step away as he speaks and- No, you think. That won't do.

Steve's rambling cuts off when he's shoved bodily into the wall. The clock hanging a few feet away rattles and his back aches with the impact of his spine against the drywall. He huffs out a sharp breath of surprise from your startling display of strength. You've got one hand against the steadily cooling dampness of his sweat-soaked chest, your other locked around both of his wrists, holding them securely against the seam of his own thighs.

“I, uh-” Steve stammers before swallowing with an audible gulp. He struggles against your grip and is stunned to find that he can't break free, his muscles straining with the effort despite the fact that your hands aren't large enough to even encircle entire circumference of his wrists.

You're leaning in then, your nose pushing into the curve of his throat to take in another deep breath. He can feel it when your mouth drops open as you pull in his scent, feels the way your parted lips drag against his sweaty skin. He fights back a shiver at the sensation, fights to remain still when you press yourself against him, blood from your chest soaking into his shirt, his trapped hands coming into contact with the warmth of the blood-soaked smattering of hair at the apex of your thighs.

“What, uh.. What's happening right now?” Steve questions, his voice pitched high with confusion and anxiety.

“I'm hungry,” Your voice comes finally, the sound of it wrecked and beautiful as it meets Steve's ears. Your teeth scrape the vein pulsing violently beneath his skin of his throat as your burrow deeper into him, your tongue coming out for just a quick taste of the salt and fear on his skin. “I'm so hungry.” You murmur against him, words muffled.

“Okay,” Steve squeaks, pulling against your grip on his wrists again but freezing when the meat of his palm brushes the bloody patch of hair over your mound. His knees feel weak, his fingers are trembling, breaths coming quick and sharp. He's never feared for his life quite so strongly while simultaneously feeling so aroused. It's all very confusing. “Okay, yeah. I, uh- I can- I can make some breakfast if- Ho-Shit. I.. If you're hungry-”

A low growl rumbles up your throat the mention of your hunger and you savor once again in the thought of how sweet his blood will taste on your tongue. He's very handsome — he seems sweet, kind. You don't want to kill him, but then again..

Your head swims dizzily.

“What's your name?” You ask in a low whisper that pushes your warm breath out against his skin and has his cock twitching traitorously in his pants.

“Steve-” He says in rush, “My name's Steve! And I- I can help you! Me and my friends have seen some crazy shit, I- I swear we can-”

You're taking in one last breath with your mouth against that pulsing vein where his scent is the strongest, pulling it in slow and deep and relishing in the way that the burn makes your throat ache, makes your stomach twist. But then you're leaning back to get a good look at his face. His pointed nose brushes the tip of your own as he tells you his name, his pleas thereafter falling breathlessly against your own lips in such close proximity.

“Are you scared, Steve?” You interrupt his rambling to ask sweetly, the hand on his shoulder coming up until you can swipe a bead of sweat away from his temple with the pad of your thumb. Your touch leaves a streak of red shining starkly against his tanned skin.

The boy, Steve, nods slowly.

“I know,” You whisper, your eyes studying the way the golden sunlight catches the hues of brown swirling in his irises, “Do you know how I know that, Steve?”

“Uh..” He swallows audibly again, fidgeting on his feet as much as he can in his current position between you and the wall behind him, “'s'it because.. 'Cause my hands are shaking?”

You move your head slowly side-to-side and the movement has your noses brushing again. Steve watches as the empty darkness in your eyes wavers with something that looks almost like it might be excitement.

“I can smell it,” You murmur, your mouth so, so close to his, “I can taste it on my tongue.”

“That's pretty cool,” Steve manages, “That, like, a superpower of yours? I, uh, I bet that comes in handy-”

“I don't know what's happening,” You interrupt his silly ramblings to admit quietly, your gaze holding his as you struggle to swallow down the instinct to sink your teeth into the muscled flesh where his shoulder meets his neck, “This feeling.. This hunger. Want your blood on my tongue. I.. I want to kill you, Steve.” You finish in a whisper, pupils blown wide.

“I- Please don't. Don't kill me.” He begs, feeling truly pathetic as he does so but also feeling far too frightened not to at least try.

The pretty swirls of brown and gold in his eyes shine with fear, and the sight has something sour twisting in your chest beneath your ribs. It has your grip on his wrists tightening for a second before you're releasing them entirely. A deep exhale pushes all of the air from your lungs and you hold it as long as you can, eyes pinching shut as you try to rein in the primal urge to maim, kill, and feed.

The absence of his wrists in your grip has the tremble in your own hands starting up again as they travel up the length of his torso, blood smearing against the beauty marks on his cheeks when you take his warm face in your hands.

“I don't want to want to kill you.” You tell him in a weak rasp.

Steve lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding, hesitating for only a moment before he's wrapping his larger hands around the backs of your own.

“Okay.. Okay, that's good,” He nods wildly in relief, though his heart continues to beat irregularly with unsettled nerves, “That's a good start, huh? Let's run with it-”

His cheeks and his palms are so warm in comparison to your own skin. You push your dirty fingers against his cheeks until they almost squish under the pressure, his lips forced to purse cutely while you relish in the heat that seeps into your hands.

“I'm not used to it,” You tell him quietly, “The way it.. It hurts. It burns.”

When Steve hooks his thumbs beneath your palms to ease your hands away from his face, he's surprised to find that you don't put up a fight, merely allowing him to lower your arms to your sides and hold them there.

“Are you.. So you're.. a newly turned vampire or something?” He questions slowly.

A quick snort of laughter escapes you in your surprise and the sound combined with the sight of your lips tugging up at the corners into an amused smile has Steve smiling as well, albeit in confusion.

“What?” You're giggling around the word and Steve thinks that his heart might skip a beat at the sound. What was wrong with him?

“..What?” Steve repeats.

“I'm not.. I'm not a vampire.” You laugh softly again.

“You're not?” He questions slowly, brows drawing together when you shake your head at him, “Then.. What are you?”

The question stumps you. The ache in your temples makes itself known again when you push against that impenetrable wall of emptiness in your mind in search of something.

Steve watches your brows furrow in concentration, watches the way your nose scrunches up cutely. You're beautiful and terrifying and his heart has felt on the verge of possibly beating out of his chest since the first second that he laid eyes on you — ethereal and stunning like some sort of nightmare swathed daydream.

All at once, he remembers your current state of undress, the soft squish of your breasts against his chest over the blood and sweat-soaked fabric of his shirt is suddenly impossible to ignore. He feels a rush of heat flush the skin under his collar all the way up to his ears and- Dear God, he needs to get a hold of himself.

“I don't..” A disgruntled sigh blows past your lips, unaware of Steve's mental unraveling, “I don't know. I can't remember.. anything.”

Steve only nods, shouldering past you slowly and moving toward the aged refrigerator on the other side of the room to peer inside.

“So you don't know for sure that you're not a vampire,” Steve teeters his head side to side as he takes in the stark emptiness within the fridge, his neglect to do any form of grocery shopping in the last week suddenly feeling like a grave error, “There's gotta be a few other possibilities, for sure, but uh-” He swings the refrigerator door closed with a sigh, “My friend Dustin will probably know more. The kid's, like, super smart. It's borderline annoying. Just- Why don't you get rinsed off or whatever and I'll give him a call for reinforcements.”

You frown as you peer down at yourself as if only just now remembering the state of yourself, one arm comes up to cover your breasts while the other does its best to hide what's between your legs. A trickle of nerves creeps up your spine that had been nonexistent before, the initial fog that accompanied your hunger and that first whiff of Steve's scent having overpowered everything else.

You had almost grown accustomed to the wetness of the blood beneath your arms, but now it irked you, uncomfortable with the fact that you still couldn't recall where it had come from, whose blood it was. The wondering has you feeling a bit nauseous suddenly.

“Rinse off,” You repeat slowly, avoiding locking eyes with the pretty brown gazing at your from across the room, “Yes. I should rinse.. this.”

He leads you to the bathroom with a wide palm warm against your spine that has your stomach flipping with entirely too eager butterflies.

It felt a bit dangerous, how much you crave to please this beautiful man already, how much you wish to bury yourself inside of his skin and never, ever leave.

Hair and skin scrubbed clean, donning borrowed socks, a pair of cotton gym shorts that were achingly similar to the tiny pair Steve had been wearing earlier that morning, and a soft crewneck with sleeves that hung past your fingertips, you eventually wandered into the open space between the entryway and living room.

Steve's head snaps up at the soft shuffle of your socked feet against the floorboards that signals your arrival. In your absence he's changed his own clothes, a clean tshirt and light wash denim replacing his sweaty and now blood-stained clothes from before. The puffy sweatband that had held his hair back had been removed as well, his mousy-brown hair hanging a bit limply as it dried around his face.

He makes his way toward you in a rush, stopping just a few inches short of actually making physical contact. His eyes rake over your body shamelessly now that you're no longer indecently exposed, memorizing the lines of your face and the softness of your damp hair and the smooth plushness of your bare thighs beneath his shorts.

“How're you.. You feeling okay?” Steve asks cautiously after an embarrassingly long moment of ogling. He prays that you haven't noticed his wandering gaze while your own has been preoccupied with taking in the furniture, the framed photographs, and the mess of magazines and comic books strewn throughout the living room.

Your eyes find his as you push a wet lock of hair behind your ear, closing your eyes in concentration as you take in your first breath since entering the room, letting the oxygen flood in through your mouth and focussing on the ache that his scent prompts in the base of your throat. It hurts, it does, but it's not nearly as overwhelming as it had felt upon that first whiff of it in the woods, nor is it as painful as when you'd breathed it straight from his skin in the kitchen.

“It's.. Bearable,” You promise slowly, “For now.”

“Good, good. That's good.” Steve lets a relived grin wash over his face.

“Your friend.. Daniel? When is-”

“Dustin,” Steve corrects immediately, “His name's Dustin.”

“Right.. Dustin,” You acknowledge, shaky fingers toying idly with the hem of your borrowed shorts, “When should we expect-”

It seems that your question is destined to remain unfinished, as the rumbling of a battered car engine grows louder in its approach, the rattling accompanied by the heavy thump of music blasting through a stereo. The familiar sounds have Steve letting loose a groan in discontent as he moves to pull open the front door, and as you peer around his shoulder, you spot a rusted van pulling into the driveway. The brakes creak, the deafening music cutting off as the doors on either side fly open and two young men tumble from the vehicle.

“Dusty buns, grab the goods from the back, would you?” The driver orders the boy currently climbing out of the passenger side of the van.

“What?” The boy scoffs in disbelief, adjusting the cap that squishes the tight ringlets of curls around his face and neck, “Gross. Why do I have to carry it?”

“Why do you have to carry it? Hm.. Why do you have to carry it..? Uh, let’s see..” The driver's face scrunches up in thought, a wild mane of dark curls and waves hanging past his shoulders as he leans his weight against the frame of the door, allowing it to remain open as he drapes an elbow over the metal. He drums his fingers against his lips in a slow rhythm as he pretends to ponder the question, dark nail polish harsh against his pale skin, “Because you woke me up at seven in the morning on my day off to run a weird errand for Harrington.. Because I snuck in to the butcher to get it.. And, ah shit.. What was the last reason..? Oh! Because I said so.” He finishes loudly, finally moving to slam the car door shut.

The next few seconds pass in a bit of a blur — everything happens so quickly. Steve watches the door collide with the longer-haired boy's face with a painful sounding thud. The resulting blood that begins to pour from his nose comes all too quickly, and Steve only processes what's happened enough to offer a wince in sympathy. It takes longer than it should for him to realize that he should perhaps be concerned about you.

With a slight delay, Steve turns to face you with wide eyes and finds your pretty lips are parted in desperation, an unfocused glassy look in your eyes as your own gaze flickers between Steve and the scene in the driveway behind him.

“Eddie, shit. You okay?” The boy at the other side of the vehicle is saying as Steve begins to usher you back into the house with his hands at your biceps, “Wha- Steve where the hell're you going!”

The boy's call remains unanswered as Steve instead leads you backwards down the hallway and into a room past the kitchen.

“Steve.” You whisper hoarsely, throat burning so severely it feels like it's been set aflame.

“I know, honey. Shit. I know, I know.”

The front door slams shut in the distance, disgruntled murmuring voices edging into the house and making Steve curse under his breath. He brings a wide palm up to cover the expanse of your mouth and nose, his other hand still dragging soft along your upper arm.

“Not a vampire, huh?” Steve jokes weakly, “Y'sure about that?”

Your brows pinch as you narrow your eyes at him and frown beneath his hand.

“Steve, c'mon man where do you keep the tissues!” A voice calls in annoyance.

“Hold the fuck on, Henderson!” Steve yells back over his shoulder, before refocussing on you, “You're okay, it's gonna be okay. Just stay here and I'll get them to leave and it'll all be fine. Deep breaths- No, shit, fuck, no deep breaths. Forget I said that. Just..”

You make a small sound against his palm and he gives you a weak, apologetic wince of a smile.

“Don't kill my friends, alright? Please. Just stay here, okay? I'll be back.”

He's gone in a flash, battered wooden door latching shut behind him and leaving you holding your breath to keep the foggy haze of your hunger at bay. Your stomach twists sharply as the voices on the other side of the door pick up and you reach up to cover your mouth and nose with your own smaller hands as you fight the urge to breathe in the sweet coppery scent of fresh blood that you know must be wafting through the house already.

You manage to resist for perhaps twenty-five agonizing seconds before your shaking hands slacken a bit over your face and a deep breath fills your lungs. The potency of the blood in your chest wracks your body, a hazy darkness creeping into the edges of your vision as your hand blindly reaches for the doorknob. You move down the hallway unthinkingly and friendly, bickering conversation comes to an abrupt stop as three sets of eyes focus on you.

The lingering glances to your borrowed clothes are anything but subtle. One of the boys, Eddie, raises his eyebrows in approval even as he keeps a hand cupped over his nose in a weak attempt to staunch the flow of blood. The other boy, shorter and softer at the edges, gapes incredulously as he drops a thick tupperware bowl onto the coffee table, his narrowed gaze drifting to where Steve was looking at you in wide-eyed panic.

“You have a girl over?” The shortest of the boys asks in disbelief, “Are you shitting me? Dude, come on. You're not seriously trying to rush us out after making a delivery like this, no questions asked, so you can get laid for what evidently wouldn't even be the first time-”

Steve ignores him as you move toward Eddie with single-minded determination and that worryingly glassy look in your eyes. Steve's hand just misses your shoulder as you pass, catching only air while your own hand grasps Eddie's wrist to ogle at the blood staining his palm.

“Honey, honey, maybe-”

“Aw, you jealous Stevie boy?” Eddie laughs, his voice congested around the blood clogging up his nasal passages, “That's cute. Maybe if you're real nice, I'll punch you before me and Dustin leave and then you two crazy kids can play doctor- oof-”

The teasing cuts off when you give him an unnaturally strong shove toward the couch. Eddie flails a bit as he falls onto the lumpy cushions, and you're perching yourself atop of him in the blink of an eye, your thighs pinning his arms against his own lap beneath you. He stares a up at you in stunned confusion, the black of your pupils blown wide and a sort of terrifying beauty in your features that seems to render him paralyzed both mentally and physically for a moment.

Your mind swims with how nice the blood smells from this close, how warm it feels in the air against your skin, prickling and sparking along your spine and prompting goosebumps of elation to creep up the back of your neck.

“Harrington,” Eddie acknowledges with a hint of amusement as his regains a bit of composure, he nods his head vaguely to the person who has sequestered his lap and trapped his hands in the process, “Is, uh.. This your girl?”

Steve ignores him in favor of placing a slow, gentle hand on your shoulder from behind. He watches you run your thumb over the small scrape across Eddie's chin, watches your eyes flutter closed as you lean closer and swipe a finger through the fresh blood that's dripping from his nose down to his upper lip.

“Hey, honey..” Steve begins cautiously, swallowing past a nervous lump in his throat when you shake off his hand on your shoulder and bring your bloodstained fingers up toward your mouth, “Remember what we talked about.. Maybe we should-”

“Oh, she's fuckin' weird, man,” Eddie is chuckling in confusion all the while, though his smile never fades, “I think I like her-”

Dustin watches on in disgust as you slip those bloody fingers past your own lips and suck, and suddenly everyone's eyes are on you, awaiting your reaction with varying emotions — confusion, disgust, horror.

Your brows furrow as you take in the taste of it, the immediate warmth and sweetness on your tongue is quickly overpowered by something sour, a sharp tang that makes you gag. You push Eddie back against the couch as you scramble from his lap, tripping in your haste and falling into Steve's waiting arms.

“Dude,” Eddie is saying, “She's actually a freak, and I mean that in the best way-”

“What the hell?” Dustin cries as he swallows down a gag of his own.

The sour stench of Eddie's blood lingers at the back of your throat and you retch again, gazing up at Steve with an expression he's yet to see on your face. Your eyes are wide and pleading, lips parted as you try to breathe in his scent to counteract the blood coating the back of your tongue.

Steve rubs at your upper arms in a soothing motion, relieved that for whatever reason, you didn't kill his friend.

“Steve,” You whisper hoarsely, “He tastes terrible.”

You sound horrified by the fact and Steve tuts softly, though the quiet noise is drowned out by Eddie's scoff of disbelief.

“Oh, well excuse me.” The sarcasm that drips from his voice doesn't go unnoticed as he tugs at the collar of his shirt to wipe the rest of the blood from under his nose.

“Steve.” You plead again as you tug on his shirtsleeve, you're not sure what you want him to do about the horrible taste in your mouth, but you find that you're willing to beg if he can make it go away.

“What the hell is going on? Steve?” Dustin demands sharply, “Are you planning on explaining any time soon?”

Eddie raises two fingers in the air, dark nail polish contrasting against his pale skin, “I'd like to know that too.”

Steve's eyes meet yours for a brief moment before you're tucking back into his neck and he's heaving a sigh.

“Right.. So, uh-”

Steve explains the events of your morning together and his theories, urging you to speak up every now and then to give your own take on things. Eddie and Dustin's arguments grow increasingly eager throughout the whole thing as they debate whether you might be a vampire or a demon, whether you hailed from the underworld and were cast out or simply had memory loss, what foods you might be able to sustain yourself on that wouldn't involve human flesh-

Some of their ponderings eventually fill your head with brief flashes, memories dragged to the surface that you attempt to explain despite what little you know. You tell them about the hazy recollections of a boy stripping you down until you were bare before him, how he'd ignored your slurred pleas for him to stop. The fuzzy image of him standing above you. His demands for the devil to bestow upon him each of his painfully shallow desires; popularity, sex, money. He'd demanded those things in exchange for the life of a virgin, your life, and you'd been given no opportunity to dispel his assumptions before he'd plunged the knife into your stomach, your ribs, your chest.

Perhaps you died, perhaps your didn't, but you remember the earth-shattering roar that had filled the forest just before a power unlike anything you'd ever felt began to thrum in your veins. You fondly recall the euphoria of that cruel, selfish boy's flesh beneath your teeth and the warmth of his blood trickling down your throat.

Rage burns in Steve's chest as you recount what you can remember of what happened to you. His hands ball into fists, knuckles aching with the fury he feels at the thought of you naked and vulnerable and begging for your life.

At some point in the chaos, around the time that the ache in your head begins to pulse, Steve ushers everyone into the kitchen and the unsuspecting tupperware that the two boys had delivered is pried open.

You stare down at the dark liquid inside with a slight crinkle in your nose, leaning a bit closer to try to get a read on the dull scent coming from the cold contents.

“Sweetheart you tackled me onto the sofa to get some of my blood only to announce that it tasted like shit ten seconds later,” Eddie chuckles with incredulity at your skepticism, “Now you got a whole bowl of blood in front of you and.. What? Nothing..?”

Your gaze goes to Steve rather than the boy who had spoken to you, your own eyes meeting golden brown. His warm palm rests over your hand where it's splayed on the countertop in front of the plastic bowl, his fingers giving a reassuring squeeze to pair with the quick upward tick at the corners of his lips.

“It just.. It doesn't really smell like much of anything,” You offer up hesitantly with a shake of your head, “No. No, it- That's not true. I mean, it smells like blood, it just.. The nuances aren't there?”

“What sort of nuances?” Dustin urges curiously, Eddie nodding wildly as they both eagerly await your elaboration.

“I-I don't..” You're drawn to Steve once again, like a magnet is pulling you in and guiding your gaze toward him at every turn.

“Take a second to think about it,” Steve urges softly.

You do with your brows drawn together and your head tipping to the side as you try to piece together the words to explain, “Well, Eddie's blood, for instance- It.. It smelled.. Warm. I could feel it on my tongue before I even tasted it. Just smelling it gave me.. chills — the good kind. Like, shiver down your spine-”

“Orgasmic,” Eddie pipes in with an amused little grin that prickles at Steve's nerves, “I believe the word you're looking for to describe how I smell is ‘orgasmic’, if those shivers I sent down your spine are to be taken into accou- Ow!”

Steve reaches over to smack Eddie into silence, the blow delivered to the other boy's shoulder with a bit more strength behind it than perhaps he intended.

“Stop talkin' shit,” Steve reprimands before grumbling under his breath, “Not givin' her fuckin' orgasms, fuckin' asshole.”

“How about both of you idiots fucking focus,” Dustin scolds in annoyance. His eyes roll hard beneath the shadow of the brim of his cap and then he's focussing back on you, “So Eddie's blood smelled good but tasted bad. This smells bad so.. maybe that means it'll taste good!”

“It didn't taste bad initially,” You shrug, still eyeing the undisclosed animal blood warily, “It was more the aftertaste.. It was, I don't know, sour or, like-”

“The pothead tasted bad, imagine that..” Steve mutters to himself.

“Holy shit. Steve you might actually be right about something!” Dustin exclaims with a wide grin.

“I might?” Steve repeats in confusion, eyebrows pinching together before he shakes himself off with a crooked grin that doesn't come off nearly as nonchalant as he is aiming for, “I mean, yeah, sure, totally. But, uh, what exactly am I right about?”

“Weed!” Dustin says like it should be obvious, turning toward the longer haired boy, “Eddie, when was the last time you smoked?”

Eddie looks between the three of you with wide eyes shining with innocence, “I, uh… Before bed. So, I guess, like, three-ish?”

“So.. The aftertaste was.. marijuana?” Steve says in slow disbelief.

“Smoking a bowl before bed seriously saved my life?” Eddie whispers suddenly.

“How does this information help.. This,” You poke at the plastic container with your index finger, the dark liquid sloshing slowly with movement, “Whatever this is- Taste better? It smells like a cup of water filled with pennies.”

“We could warm it up.” Dustin shrugs.

The four of you exchange shrugs of indifference as if to say, ‘why not?’ and then Steve has the contents of the container in a pot on the stove. He stirs it slowly as it warms and you hover at his back, chin hooked over his shoulder as the smell coming off of the dark liquid slowly grows more and more appealing.

Your fingers dig a little harshly into the softness at his hips when the burn in your throat grows too painful and he acknowledges your warning with a soft bump of his temple against your own as he flicks off the burner. A small bit of space is driven between you but Steve is turning and pushing a warm mug into your hands before you can make more than a small noise of protest.

The ceramic is warm against your palms, the heat coming off of the animal blood meeting your face when you bring the lip of the mug up to your mouth. You take a cautious sip, wary beneath the heavy weight of the gazes focussed so intently on your reaction.

Your eyes slip shut unconsciously, a low moan sounding in your throat at that first taste. The warmth of the blood dances along your tastebuds pleasantly, sweet and thick and delicious as it soothes the ache in your throat nearly instantly. Your gut twists in euphoric delight as you tip the mug further, swallowing down it's contents in desperate gulps.

Steve takes the mug from your hands and refills it without prompt once you reach the bottom, placing it back in your hands gently. His eyes follow your movements, watching intently as you hurriedly bring the cup back to your lips, sipping the dark liquid a bit slower, savoring it this time around.

“How is it?” Steve asks gently.

“She's drinking the stuff like her life depends on it, Steve, what the hell d’you think?” Dustin scoffs.

“Vampire girl likes cow's blood,” Eddie pumps one fist in the air in triumph, draping an arm heavily over Dustin's shoulders and ruffling the hat atop the boys head of curls, “I think we did good, Henderson.”

Steve ignores his friends in favor of placing a large hand against the steadily warming skin of your cheek, “Honey?” He urges.

“‘S good,” You promise with red-stained lips, shuffling forward into Steve's chest and nuzzling your head beneath his jaw for a moment to take in his already familiar scent. It's still mildly uncomfortable, the way it fights to itch at your throat despite the way the blood has soothed the burn, but there's also something comforting about his scent as it settles in your chest now.

Conversation picks up again between the two boys behind you. Steve's arm curls tight around your back, his weight resting against the countertop as he allows you to lean into his chest. Your body grows warmer with each sip of blood that passes your lips, a slow-growing, white flame building in your gut as the hunger ebbs and the soothing scent of Steve fills your lungs.

When you finish off your second helping, you set the mug down with a quiet clink, your eyes drawn to where Steve had set the pot of warmed blood aside on the counter. Steve's thick fingers are drumming idly against the surface, and the sight has you feeling a little overwhelmed. The hunger swirling in your gut now is vastly different from what had been fueling your actions earlier, a desperate tug of arousal making your stomach flip.

Dustin and Eddie no longer exist in your mind. You're far too busy grabbing a hold of Steve's hand, your smaller fist wrapping around his own and manipulating his movements until you can dip his index and ring fingers into the pot that's been slowly cooling against the countertop. Thick drops of deep crimson drip down the side of his wrist as it re-emerges. A zig-zagging line curves around the small bump of bone connecting to his forearm and your eyes can focus on nothing else. The world around you fades nothing more than a dull echo as you automatically crowd closer to Steve to collect the dripping blood with your lips and tongue.

All three boys watch the turn of events with bated breath. When your eyes flick up to meet Steve's again, a distant fog seems to have glazed over your eyes again.

“Gross..” Dustin assesses quietly.

“Hot.” Eddie disagrees immediately and vehemently.

Steve doesn't manage more than a weak croak at the back of his throat while he watches the your tongue poke out in an attempt to clean some of the dark liquid from your own lips.

“Steve.” You say softly, parted lips glistening and red.

“Yeah?” He asks in a high rasp.

You mean to respond, you do, but you're distracted by another drop of blood falling down the side of his hand and your words never come, silenced by the way you dart forward to capture it before it can reach his wrist.

“What, uh. What'd'you need, honey?” He asks as steadily as he can. His cock is already beginning to press against the zip on the inside of his jeans and he desperately wills himself to calm down.

“Need you.” You murmur with your lips against the blood-soaked tips of his fingers. You guide his hand until you can take the digits into your mouth.

Steve nearly chokes as his fingers are engulfed in the heat of your mouth, a choked sound crackling up his throat when the soft pad of your tongue flicks against them as you suck them clean. 

“Leave.” Steve commands his friends without ever looking away from your mouth.

“Dude, are you serious?” Dustin exclaims, smacking Eddie's shoulder in disbelief, “He can't be serious!”

Your tongue pushes between his fingers, the warmth of the muscle nearly causing Steve's knees to buckle. His own tongue feels suddenly dry as it lays heavy in his mouth, his cock achingly thick and hard in his pants already.

“You boys should leave,” You say softly, tongue poking out to lick away the blood at the edges of your lips while your fingers remain wrapped tight around Steve's wrist, “Unless, of course, you'd like to watch?” You tease with a frightening grin.

Eddie meets your gaze with a wide-eyed look, “Well, sweetheart, as a matter of fact-”

“Nope, we're leaving!” Dustin interrupts, already dragging Eddie from the kitchen by the collar of his shirt, “Steve, be smart, alright? Don't make me regret this. Please don't die-”

Eddie shouts something vulgar that you don't quite catch over his shoulder just as the front door slams shut. The resulting silence is thick with sexual tension, Steve's pretty, doe-eyed gaze glued to where your lips are still pressed softly against the pads of his fingers.

When you collide it's in a frantic rush, wandering hands slipping beneath clothes and backsides slamming against walls. Distracted steps lead the both of you down the hallway, Steve's shirt discarded carelessly along the way the moment that the opportunity to do so is presented to you.

Your fingertips scrape through the soft brown curls littering his chest while Steve's mouth finds your jaw and neck, a tiny trail of damp kisses left in his wake. A light suck at your pulse point has a moan slipping past your lips, your feet tripping over the tops of his own as you corral him back into the bedroom where he'd hidden you away earlier.

The backs of Steve's knees meet the mattress and it only takes a weak shove from your unnaturally strong hands to have him toppling back onto the bed. Breath wooshes from his lungs and he watches intently while you crawl on top of him, your hands tracing the lines of his chest in a slow, deliberate touch before finding the sharp line of his jaw.

When Steve's gaze finally meets the intensity of your own he finds your pupils blown unnaturally wide, the color of your irises nothing but a thin sliver at the very edges of a sea of endless black.

His tongue meets the roof of his mouth as he makes to say something, anything, but the words are lost when your lips smash into his with an impatient tinge of hunger. A surprised moan gets caught in his throat for a moment before your hand falls to the bulging zip in his jeans, delicate fingers palming at his cock. He does moan then, embarrassingly loud and needy, though the sound is swallowed up by your own mouth as you use his parted lips as an opportunity lick inside of his mouth.

Your tongue is warm and wet — still dripping with the thick, coppery tang of blood mixed with something sickly sweet that he thinks might just be the intoxicating taste of your own spit.

It should be disgusting. The taste of the blood on your tongue should have his stomach twisting and his gag reflex triggering, but it does neither of those things. There's no real way to be sure whether it's some sort of otherworldly allure that you're emitting, or if he's simply so attracted to you that it's turned him into a fucking freak, but his cock is growing painfully hard beneath his jeans faster than it ever has in his goddamn life and the taste as your tongue strokes his own only seems to speed things along further.

Steve has one hand braced behind him to keep his chest pressed solidly against yours as you writhe and roll your hips down against the back of the hand you have teasing at the front of his jeans. The noises you're letting out have him a little dizzy, his blood rushing south in response to each pretty sound that you let fall into his pliant mouth.

Your hands scramble to undo the button and work tight denim down Steve's thighs, but you're eventually forced to extricate yourself from his lap to fully remove them, a tangled heap of denim and the cotton of his boxer briefs thrown to the other side of the room in another brief display of your slightly unnatural strength.

“Fuck.” Steve breathes when instead of climbing back into his lap after hastily removing your own clothes, you crawl toward him and settle between his knees. You blink up at him with dark eyes, crimson now smeared messily over your perfect lips, and Steve's cock all but jumps when his muscles tighten at the sight.

“I'm gonna suck your cock-” You tell him as the backs of your fingers just graze the length of his aching erection. Your gaze is locked on the thickness of him, hungrily eyeing the pulsing vein on the underside, the weeping slit where a string of precome is already shining over the head from just the light brush of your hand and the look in your eyes. “Because I need to taste you. But then I'm going to need you to fuck me.”

Your eyes finally flick up to meet his, and Steve is nodding wildly, “Yes, yeah! Okay, that's.. That sounds g-holyfuckingshit!” He groans through a gasp.

You don't savor in a tentative lick, don't even suck lightly at the tip like he's had girls do in the past to ease into it. You wrap your lips around his cock and immediately move to swallow down several inches of him, your throat tightening around the sensitive head as you gag yourself on his thick length.

You can smell the arousal seeping from each and every pore on his body, growing stronger and more intoxicating with every bob of your head and flick of your tongue. You hadn't thought it was possible, but it's a thousand times more delicious than his fear had been. It burns along your senses and prickles down the length of your spine until your head is a strange mix of hyper-focussed yet fuzzy at the edges.

Steve has to fight to keep his eyes from pinching shut in pleasure, to keep his head from falling back to bring his gaze to the ceiling. Missing even a single second of the sight of your lips wrapped around his cock feels like a crime of biblical proportions, so instead he brings shaking hands to your hollowed cheeks, collecting your hair until he can fist it in one hand. He whines pitifully at the unobstructed view of the drool and blood that your efforts have pooling at the base of his cock.

“Oh, holy shit,” Steve groans, his thumb stroking lightly over the edges of your lips as you pull off.

The second your mouth is occupied with only sucking at the tip, his thumb is pushing through the mess of blood and spit to hook past your lips alongside his cock. You don't stop working your mouth at the intrusion, rather, you expand your efforts to include the finger now rubbing at the inside of your cheek. Your tongue slides over the tip of his thumb before swirling around his leaking head, your jaw open as wide as it can go while you suck at every part of him that's stretching your mouth.

“Ah, fuck, you gotta-” Steve is whining, and he'd be embarrassed about it if he had the brain capacity to do anything aside from trying desperately not to come. His balls are drawn so tight, his cock is throbbing in the heat of your mouth with the need for release, "Honey, honey, I need you to stop or I'm gonna come in that pretty mouth and that-" He heaves a great sigh of pained relief when you pull off with a wet pop, "That would be a fucking travesty, because I really really wanna be inside you.”

You're wiping your mouth and chin off on the back of your hand, the lust-hazy weight of his gaze sparking a glimmer in your own.

“What are you waiting for then?” A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth even as your teeth dig sharply into your lower lip.

You're dragged up onto his lap in a rush, flipped onto your back until he's hovering over your naked body, his warm hands smoothing over every bit of your skin that he can. His eyes are clouded with arousal as wide palms trace the curve of your waist, the softness of your belly, the plush of your breasts.

Your legs part on instinct and his eyes drop at the movement, lips parting with his slack jaw as the wet seam of your cunt is exposed to him.

“Oh, fuck, honey,” Steve manages in a breathless murmur, “Jesus, look at you. Oh, holy shit, you're so wet.”

Thick fingers come within an inch of dragging through your folds before you're snatching his wrist with a firm grip and tugging him forward. He lands atop of you with a huff, one arm forced to brace behind your head and the other falling to rest on the side of your waist. You're settling him with a scathing look and he chokes on a shaky breath that fans out over your face.

His cock is hot and heavy against your lower belly, thick and long and curving up toward your navel. It still shines lightly with spit and blood and precome and your mouth nearly waters at the sight, your cunt clenching around nothing at just the thought of finally getting it inside of you.

“What?” He asks in confusion, “Was just gonna get you ready with my fingers. Should do that first, right? We don't want you hurting-”

“Now,” You demand, voice coming out leagues weaker and more desperate than intended, “I want you now. Need you. Now.”

“Fuck, I- Shit, okay, okay.” Steve gives in with wide eyes.

When he reaches down to line himself up with your sopping entrance, his hand is shaking so hard that he has half a mind to be embarrassed. But then his gaze flicks up to meet your own just as he begins to push his hips forward, and the flutter of your lashes in response to the stretch of his cock makes it a little hard for him to focus on anything other than how he might be able to make your eyes roll back again, or what euphoric expressions he's yet to see take over your beautiful face.

Once he's fully sheathed, he draws back and drives back in sharply, watching in awe as your jaw falls slack and you cry out.

“Just like that,” You gasp in approval, spine arching as you try to better the angle his hard thrusts to hit at just the right spot, “Shit, yes. Steve, fuck!”

The room is filled with the slick sounds of his cock as it works in and out of your cunt, the dull slap of his hips and hairy thighs meeting the insides of you own, the protesting creak of his bed frame as its joints struggle beneath all of the movement. Steve's breathing picks up just a little more with each thrust, a gasp turned groan working its way up his throat when you tangle a hand in the hairs that curl at the nape of his neck to drag him down for a kiss that's more tongue and teeth than anything else.

The barely there remnants of blood in your mouth meets Steve's tastebuds once again when he freely licks inside to capture the soft sounds falling from your lips and his cock twitches within your walls, brain spinning with just how perfect you feel and taste and sound.

“Fuck,” He pants into your waiting mouth, “You feel so fucking good, honey. S-Squeezing me so tight. Feels so fuckin' good, better'n anything I've ever felt.”

Each word of praise is dripping with his arousal when it meets the inside of your mouth, thick and delicious and a sort of cloying sweetness that reminds you of honey as it coats the back of your throat like a salve. The sounds falling from his mouth in combination with the sharp tang of his arousal that clings to the air with every breath you take — it has your head spinning. The low rasp of his moans sparks pleasure along your spine while the wet drag of his cock ignites the white-burning flame in the pit of your gut.

Despite his hooded eyelids, you can see how his own pupils have blown wide, those pretty pools of swirling brown overtaken with a darkness that leaves them looking so similar to your own.

“You're perfect,” Steve groans against your tongue, “So, so pretty right now, baby. Look so goddamn pretty taking my cock.”

His voice is ragged, desperate as his arms slip beneath your spine to press as close as he can. You're craving his touch just as much though, and it has you rolling your hips desperately to meet his. Your lips come together again in a frenzied collision, heightened arousal only causing that simmering need that pushes you cling to one another to boil over. Chest to chest, tongue on tongue, skin on skin.

The coarse hairs on his chest catch against your peaked nipples with every sharp jerk of his hips, his belly dragging against your own as your eyes roll back on a particularly well-angled thrust.

“Oh, fuck,” You moan against his lips, fingers carding through the unreasonably soft strands of his hair.

Every inch where you're connected feels alight with flames. It feels as if nothing exists beyond this. Your mind is nothing more than a steady repetition of Steve, Steve, Steve — and you don't think that it's merely the sex. You think this might simply be the way that things will be from now on. Just you and Steve. His touch and taste and his fucking smell create a truly intoxicating combination, you want him like this always. Cheeks and neck pink and flushed with blood, glistening with sweat, panting and grunting and whining in response to your body.

Your orgasm is so, so close. You're already bearing down on him, muscles taught and brain a little fuzzy. The fingers in his hair tighten, the nails of your free hand scraping down his spine and leaving behind a trail of red streaks along the freckled expanse of his back. The sting drags another guttural moan from Steve's lips and your cunt flutters around him when your belly flips in response.

“God, honey,” Steve whispers in nearly a plea, hips jerking as he tries to keep a good rhythm going for you, “You close? ‘Cause I don’t know how much longer I can- Fuck.”

His scent at this very moment is unlike anything you've ever experienced. It's heady and a little overwhelming, but so fucking delicious — if you could, you'd bottle it up just so that you could get a quick whiff of it whenever you wanted. The syrupy sweet arousal in the air only continues to thicken, filling up the air with each shaky thrust of his hips.

“God. Fill me up, Steve. Please?” You murmur with a groan as he punches deep into that spot that has your toes curling, your cunt sending a rush of slick arousal down the length of his cock and balls. “Want you to come, sweet boy. Need it. ‘n I need you to give it to me.”

“Fucking, s-shit-” Steve moans in response, hips stuttering and warmth filling you from the inside out as his cock jerks and he loses control, “Gonna.. Fucking..” A beautifully wrecked sounding moan interrupts him, “Gonna f-fuck my come so, so deep, honey.”

His slurred words have you keening, the thatch of pubic hair at the base of his cock rubbing in a rough drag against the swollen bud of your clit when his thrusts melt into nothing more than deep grinds of his cock against your fluttering walls. The tight coil in your gut twists and stretches and then snaps suddenly, the tight vice that accompanies your own orgasm milking him for every drop he has to give.

He collapses against you once you've both drawn out your climaxes for as long as you possibly can, his temple pressed to your cheek. Your combined labored breathing fills the silence.

The warmth of Steve's sweaty skin is heaven, his weight pressing you into the mattress feeling so comforting and right that it leaves you feeling a little overwhelmed. His scent settles into something a little less obtrusive as he comes down, something that rushes into your lungs and curls sweetly in your chest.

Your hand cards soft through the damp locks of his hair, your lips finding his dewy skin to press a soft kiss to that space on his temple where you can feel his pulse throbbing softly with each beat of his heart. When Steve presses a gentle kiss to the edge of your jaw in response to your own, you can't help the swarm of butterflies that erupt in your stomach.

This sweet, handsome, recklessly kind young man that you're lucky enough to have in your arms.. You reckon that you might have to stick close to him — you think, perhaps a bit foolishly and entirely too hopefully, that you'd quite like to keep him.

[melodymunson]

Pour some sugar on me- Eddie Munson x fem reader x fem OC feat. Steve Harrington

Featuring Steve Harrington

summary- You and your friend Luna are back from vacation in Florida and going back to your now home upstate until your car breaks down in Hawkins Indiana. Thankfully mechanic Eddie is there to save the day. When you can't afford to pay him you can return the favor in other ways. (Reader knew Eddie in high school. Reader, friend, and Eddie are all in their 30s.) There is an appearance from Steve near the end and a sexy time with him.

warnings: NSFW lesbian sex, eating pussy, car sex, p in v vaginal sex, protected sex, threesome (all with Eddie). Double blowjob (with Steve).

ao3 link

5.8K words

The trip to Florida was amazing- the beach every day, sun tanning, nightclubs, drinking, getting high, and lots of time at the private pools. When you get to the Indiana state border, your car breaks down. Your good friend Luna, being there at least, made it so that you wouldn't have to deal with this alone. You had to stop by a mechanic shop and soon.

You never thought you would be back in Hawkins, Indiana, once again the town you hated. You were the popular girl at Hawkins High School, yet you hated it. Your best friend was also popular, but the first chance you had to go away to college in Chicago, you left and never looked back. The only thing you missed was Eddie.

Eddie was in town hopefully because you wanted to see him at least. In high school, you bought the best weed ever from him. Corroded Coffin always put on the best shows at the Hideout and you were so happy to have him as a friend. Unfortunately, you lost touch but something told you as you drove through town and saw flyers of Corroded Coffin and a show they had upcoming soon; you were more than ready to see him again.

Pulling into a nearby mechanic station at Hawkins city limits, you were glad it was open. It was 5 in the afternoon, and even though it was summer; it was a Sunday, and the shop was thankfully, open. When you pulled your SUV up to the station, you noticed Eddie instantly. He was wearing his denim Dio vest, ripped black jeans, and curly long brown locks of hair along with tattoos you recognized- it was Eddie Munson.

As soon as he pulled his head from the hood, you knew it was him. Eddie waved to you as you parked with a big smile on his face. Getting out of the Corvette, you walked up near the vehicle he was working on with your friend following you close behind. Seeing Eddie again after all these years, you felt like it was an act of fate.

Holding his fingers up to signal to wait a minute, he looked under the hood. The vacation you just had was a lot of fun. Now you were close to being back home and having Eddie here with you, and it was a great way to end a good vacation. Whispering to your friend, you said into her ear.

"I think he got even hotter than he was in high school."

To this, she responded by giggling. Eddie glowed up.

"I agree. He's very hot," she whispered back.

Eddie cleared his throat as he wiped his hand on a black skull bandanna.

"Well, you need a tune-up or something more serious? And I recognize you."

"It's y/n from Hawkins High and this is my friend from Hawkins Luna. We have engine troubles. Just got back from a girl's trip in Florida."

Eddie was checking you out but trying not to make it so obvious. All you had on, after all, was a bikini and short shorts. Luna did as well. It was a beach trip, after all.

"I'll do my best. Well, then I can begin working on it. After all, it's Sunday, and not much else to do around here. Only open mechanic in town on a Sunday."

His curly brown locks were exactly as you remembered them. He looked so sexy. Back in high school, you were casual friends with Eddie, and attended some of the same parties together where he sold weed, other drugs, and drug paraphernalia.

Even with his hair disheveled, calloused hands, and some sweat, he was looking good. You kind of wondered to yourself why you never hung out with him more back in the day. Now you had another chance and you wouldn't let it pass you by. Eddie was so special to you.

"Thank you. What a lifesaver you are. It's great we crossed paths again," you told him, sounding excited. This made Eddie smile and blush.

"Yeah, you helped us out already by just being open," Luna added with her hands on her hips.

"I'll get right on checking it. There's a mini fridge inside the station. Grab yourselves something cold to drink."

"Thanks. It will be great to get a drink after that long ride. We had a beach vacation," Luna remarked.

"Let's catch up soon then," he mentioned with a slight shrug, as he went to look inside the engine and opened your hood.

There was a little problem. You didn't have money to pay him and you had maxed out your credit cards. Hopefully, he would let you have an IOU or take some other form of payment. As you drank your sodas, you got an iced tea out to bring to Eddie.

"We don't have the money for this, but we also weren't anticipating the car breaking down," you admitted with dismay.

"Well, we can do other things like wash some cars and his motorcycle. Maybe put on a strip show," she teased.

"Luna, are you serious? I guess we could. Nothing like two hot girls in bathing suits washing vehicles, as Eddie gets the best view in town."

"Exactly, except we are hot girls."

You shook on it, deciding you'd do whatever it takes to get your car fixed and leave Eddie happy with some form of payment. Even though it had been a while since you last saw him, you knew this would all work out. It just had to. If it didn't, you might even resort to more drastic measures.

"Okay, Eddie, we have tea for you," you told him as you presented him with the can and made your way over to him again.

He was working up a sweat as he was looking under the hood. He had a lot of stamina and a hard work ethic. If only you could convince him to let you get your vehicle back with a different form of payment. Something told you this would be a tempting offer for him.

"Thanks. I'll drink some in a minute. Just put it down on the ground."

"Eddie, we have a problem. My credit card got maxed out, but the end of the month is coming soon and I'll get paid again. There's not a chance I could pay you back later?" You suggested hopefully.

"Well, how about we call this a favor between old friends? It's on the house. Don't worry about it."

"Thanks. We could pay you back in the meantime. Wash a few cars maybe."

"Got yourself a deal, princess."

Soon you were washing cars, getting them all foamy and soaped up as Eddie finished the engine. He went to wash his hands, getting the dirt and grime from them before going back outside to drink his tea. It was still pretty hot out and he felt slightly refreshed after cleaning up and drinking the cold beverage. You gave him a good view of your ass and chest as you washed, getting on the hood and scrubbing it clean.

Luna was also washing the vehicle but the back of it and giving Eddie a good view of her body. Soon you were done, and you washed another vehicle. You sprayed each other with the hose, giggling and all smiles. Your shirt and shorts were long gone and now discarded. Nothing but your very skimpy bikini tops and thong bottoms were now on display.

Eddie was nearby, catching occasional glances as he at least pretended to be doing some paperwork to keep himself busy near the entrance to the main office. He was only human, after all, and a man, so he couldn't quite help himself from looking at your public display. Truthfully, he was so glad he was the only person to see it. The best part for Eddie was seeing you bending down and washing his motorcycle.

When you finished washing cars, you dried off and changed into a dress. Washing the vehicles was fun and you would be lying if you said it wasn't sexy seeing Eddie checking it all out. He was in his office working on some paperwork when you finished changing and went to look for him. Luna got another drink and went outside for a smoke. Knocking softly on the office door, he looked up at you and smiled.

"What did you think of the show? I saw you looking Eddie," you admitted as you walked closer to him. He got up from his chair going up to you, putting his hands on your shoulders.

"Guess I wasn't good at hiding it. I think you knew what you were doing."

You boldly made your next move, getting up on your tiptoes and kissing him. Kissing you back, he pulled you in close to him. He put his hands around your waist now as you put your hands around his shoulders.

"What about your friend?" He loudly whispered in between kisses.

"She will be okay with it. She's out smoking."

He growled and pushed you down onto his chair, quickly removing his shirt. Pulling down your dress, he realized you weren't wearing a bra.

"Is this ok?"

Once you nodded your approval, he began sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, then the other. Moments later Luna showed up, hiding outside the door, watching what was going on and touching herself. Her soft moans caused Eddie to look back at her.

"Well, well, well, looks like the party got started without me," she chided half-jokingly as she walked into the office further.

"I guess so. Who said you couldn't join us, though?" Eddie asked curiously with a wicked grin.

"I know exactly what she likes. Let me show you."

Eddie moved aside, still on his knees, and Luna got down on her knees next to him. Her tongue contacted your breast, sucking on your nipple with a bit of force and enough to make a wet sucking sound and pop before she moved to your other breast, doing the same. As this was happening, Eddie watched with wide eyes, looking pleased with the sight he was seeing. Truthfully, he had never seen something like this before in real life.

His cock ached painfully, wanting some release. She met your lips in a tongue-tangling kiss, making Eddie's cock even harder.

"You okay, Eddie?" You asked with concern as his eyes met yours and you got up, taking Luna's hand in yours.

"Fine. I, um, would you ladies like to see my van?"

"Later. For now, we would like to see one of your nicer cars. Would love to fuck in one. Wouldn't you guys?" Luna asked, wanting to do something fun and different for once.

Eddie just nodded his approval, speechless at this point. Luna kissed Eddie wantonly, full of passion, and with the promise of even better things to come.

He took a key off the keychain in his office and led you both to a nice Corvette.

"Remember Jason Carver? This is his Corvette. Needed a tune-up. He was such a bastard," Eddie scoffed as he crossed his hands across his chest.

"Yeah, hated that guy. Chrissy Cunningham's boyfriend. Fucking prick!" You replied with clear distaste in your tone.

"Let's fuck on and in it. I'm game," Luna spoke with a shrug.

You took the keys from Eddie and turned off the alarm, then unlocked the back door, opening it. The interior was nice and smelled good. Making a mess of this douche bags vette would be a lot of fun. Eddie pulled a few condoms from his back pocket, knowing he would probably need them soon.

"Then let's have some fun," you suggested as you removed your bikini top and shorts. You weren't wearing anything underneath and neither was Luna under her dress. She followed suit, removing hers as Eddie removed his clothes and got down to just his boxers.

"How do you want us, Eddie?" You asked with eagerness before kissing him.

"I'd love to fuck both of you. One against the hood and the other on the leather seats."

"That can be arranged. How about you fuck me on the hood though, Eddie?" You offered already, knowing you were going to get what you wanted.

He thought to himself for a little before nodding in agreement. Luna kissed Eddie before kissing you again as Eddie got a great look at both of your naked figures. He was so hard already, achingly so, and you were more than ready to let him fuck you. He fished a condom from his pants pocket and opened it before he put it on, feeling so excited about what was about to happen.

Luna came over to you and whispered in your ear, "Eat me out as he fucks you." You kissed her back in response.

Moving over to the hood, she crawled on top of it and got onto her back, splaying herself out for you to devour. You got closer and helped her steady herself on the hood as Eddie came from behind you and lined up at your entrance with his cock.

You were so tight and Eddie pushed into you slowly as you held onto Luna's legs, which were now spread apart. Her pussy was on full display just waiting for you to lick it.

"You are so fuckin' tight I love it," Eddie praised you as he kissed your shoulder.

His dark brown curls hung in his face, so he pushed them to the side and put his hair into a ponytail with the hair band he had on his wrist. Sweat already beaded his brow. It was hot out, but you were so into each other and this moment felt right. None of you would let this opportunity pass you by, and you were all so horny.

Once Eddie bottomed out inside of you and you got used to his size, he pulled your hair back for you with a firm grip. He began pumping into you as you were now teasing Luna by kissing her inner thighs and licking them. You moved up to her pussy, spreading her folds and licking her outer entrance first. She threw her hair back and moaned for you as you were already groaning loudly for Eddie, who was now grunting himself as he held onto your hip and pulled your hair.

"Tell me how she tastes," Eddie curiously asked as he thrust his hips and pumped his cock into you.

As you licked her clit and moaned happily into her pussy, you left crescent-shaped marks with your fingernails on her inner thighs.

"So fucking good. She tastes like heaven."

Luna moaned and closed her eyes as she clutched onto the hood of Jason's car. Eddie's mouth contacted your neck sucking on it and you could feel his stubble. He smelled so good too and had on a nice cologne. It was breathtaking. Being able to eat out with your friend as Eddie fucked your tight pussy was like a dream come true.

Luna's groans as well as yours grew louder than Eddie's balls slapped against your ass and you devoured her pretty cunt. Her legs wrapped tightly around you as you held down her thighs and got a good grip on them to steady her on the hood of the Corvette.

"Oh fuck! You have the best and tightest pussy. Holy shit!" Eddie cried out as he moved quickly inside of you, your pussy gripping his cock tightly.

"She looks so hot eating my pussy, doesn't she, Eddie?" Luna asked him with seduction in her tone of voice.

Eddie could feel his cock twitch at Luna's remark and pistoned his hips even faster, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Yes, so sexy I love seeing it," Eddie groaned.

He licked his fingers and then finger fucked you, rubbing fast and harsh circles on your clit. As Luna splayed out on the hood of the car, Eddie fucked into you so deep and hard, causing you to moan around her clit, gripping her hips tighter now. As you pleased her pussy, she rubbed her clit.

"Fuck, that's so hot watching your pussy clench my cock so tightly as you eat out your friend. I think I died and went to heaven," he boasted between grunts, sweat beading on his brow.

"Love her mouth, Eddie! Make her cum!" Luna commanded as she lifted her hips riding your face.

"Yes, Eddie, make me cum," you squealed with delight as he hit that special spongy spot of your pussy.

Eddie was perfect at fucking you and making you scream his name. The way he fucked you was incredible and some of the best sex of your life. He fucked you deep and hard, his guitar pick necklace hitting his chest with every thrust inside. His hands left crescent-shaped marks on your hips as he got you even closer to your release. The rings he wore were cold on your skin, but you still felt euphoric on the edge of riding out your high. Luna's cries were even louder now as you fucked her pussy with your mouth, hitting her most sensitive spots with your tongue earning loud cries from her.

"Eddie, I'm going to cum!" You cried out as he felt close to his release his cock twitching inside of you.

"That's right, baby cum for me," Eddie urged you.

Rubbing harsh circles on your clit, he begged to see you cum for him. And you did just that moment later, cumming for him as he was about to cum.

"Where do you want it?" He asked breathlessly.

"Inside me, fill me up, please!" You begged as Luna rode your face faster, riding out her high.

"Fuck ya taste my cum Y/N!" she cried out.

She got off your face and kissed you as Eddie removed the condom and spilled inside of you, filling you up to the hilt with his cum pulling out and gasping.

"So you wanna make our girl here cum again, maybe Eddie?" Luna asked him.

"Fuck yeah! Are you down for that, sweetheart? Want us to take turns eating that pretty pussy?" He asked with raised brows.

"Of course, eat this pussy."

"Let's move this to the back of the car lay down for us, beautiful," Eddie urged as he picked you up with ease and carried you to the backseat, opening up the back door of the convertible.

You got down on your hands and knees on the leather interior seats as Eddie leaned down and ate you out, tasting his cum and fingering you with expert precision with two fingers. As a guitarist, he had the best and most skillful fingers. Luna watched and groaned as she touched herself and Eddie ate you out with reckless abandon, slapping your ass for good measure. As you caressed your breasts, Eddie ate you out from behind, making you moan and cry out for him as Luna kissed you from the other side of the car.

"Yeah, that's right, kiss. So fucking hot," Eddie urged as he licked your glistening wet cunt, spitting on your clit and rubbing it.

"Need to taste her, Eddie. Let me have a turn," she urged.

Eddie was hard again and obliged, letting Luna take his place in the backseat and she began to taste you.

"Want me to fuck you too?" He asked curiously, earning a nod of approval from Luna.

"Yeah fuck me."

Waving her ass in the air, Eddie put on another condom and positioned himself at her entrance, and entered her, filling her up inch by delicious inch. He had one foot on the leather interior of the backseat as he stood on his other leg.

"So good love having you eat this pussy Luna!" You whined as you let her have her way with you and finger you.

Eddie's cock pounded relentlessly into her with so much passion as he moaned. Luna fingered you and licked your ass, earning loud gasps from you.

"Cum for me," she coaxed you as she added another finger, hitting your g-spot.

"Fuck so close!" You moaned.

Eddie was so close to cumming too, and he couldn't wait to cum wherever Luna wanted him to. It was shaping up to be the best day of his life on the job. All 3 of your moans echoed off the walls of the mechanic shop. You were caught up in the moment as she ate you out and your eyes locked with Eddie's feeling like you would cum any moment.

"Tell me how her pussy tastes and how much you are enjoying it, Luna," Eddie growled ferally as he pulled her hair getting a good tug on it.

"So fuckin' good, Eddie. I'm having the best time she has such a pretty pussy. Fuck!" She boasted as she added another finger and sucked your clit flicking it with her tongue and moaning against your folds as Eddie spanked her ass.

The moment was so euphoric as Luna ate you out, Eddie gasping and groaning at the sight of it all. He was so pent up and close to his release as he fucked her faster wanting to come undone at the same time. He was such a pleaser and wanted to make sure you and Luna came only almost as much as he wanted to cum. Watching you getting eaten out as he fucked your friend just about drove him over the edge again.

"Eddie I'm cumming! Fuck!" Luna cried out as her walls clenched tightly around his cock.

Eddie pulled out of her and stroked his cock throwing aside the condom and cumming all over his ass. Right after seeing that you came and Luna kissed you letting you taste yourself. Eddie grabbed a nearby clean towel and wiped Luna clean. You and Luna insisted on licking his cock clean sharing his cum and then swallowing it all.

"Holy fuck that was the hottest thing I've ever seen. Fuck that was the best threesome of my life!" Eddie enthused before pulling Luna in for a kiss and tangling his tongue with yours.

"Yeah it was great we should exchange numbers and do it again sometime," you suggested.

"Of course fuck that would be so hot but next time at my place," Eddie suggested as he got dressed again.

"Oh, we will be wanting your cock again. You are the best mechanic, right Y/N?" Luna asked with a devilish grin.

"We will for sure," you told them with the biggest smirk.

Soon you were all dressed again and sharing a joint. It was the best afternoon the 3 of you had in a long time and you all promised to do it again sometime soon.

Eddie had some of your car to finish for you and he would finish the next afternoon. He dropped you and Luna off at your parent's place. The next day, you woke up late and Eddie told you Steve would pick you up. You hadn't seen him in years, but it would be great to catch up with him again.

After you ate breakfast, Steve arrived. He was also a mechanic now, like Eddie, and they worked side by side. You got into his red Volvo with Luna and put on your seatbelts.

"So your car is just about done. Eddie had some emergency, but it's not too serious with Uncle Wayne. Don't worry, though, your car is in good hands and I'll be finishing it for you," Steve informed you and Luna.

"Thank you, Steve. I'm glad you could help. We are broke. My parents gave me a little of the costs, but we paid Eddie off yesterday," you told him with a smirk.

"Yeah, Steve, you are a true lifesaver," Luna earnestly told him.

"I'm sure there's other ways you girls could pay me. Just let me take you out on a date," he half-joked, with a sly smile.

He began the drive back to the Hawkins mechanic's job in silence for most of the drive.

"So, what have you girls been up to? It's been a while since I've seen either of you in Hawkins."

"We are roommates in another state but just had spring break vacation in Florida," Luna informed him.

You were wearing a black dress, and Luna was wearing a red skirt and a matching red blouse. Steve couldn't help but stare at you both in the rearview mirror.

"Great sounds fun. So just a visit to your old home to see your family and such? Sounds nice."

The rest of the drive was mainly in silence. It was ever so occasionally that Steve would catch glances in the rearview mirror, but tried to be nonchalant. He would either be looking up your dress or Luna's skirt. You didn't mind it though, and neither did she.

When your eyes met his, you both smiled, and he just blushed slightly before looking away. Soon you arrived back at Hawkins's local mechanic shop. Getting out of the car, you and Luna walked to the car lot your memories of the day before with Eddie soon coming back to you.

Leaning in close to Luna, you whispered,

"Hey, what do you think we try to seduce Steve?"

Steve was already back in the mechanic's shop and couldn't hear, but you were so in the mood to tease him.

"Sure, why not? Let's just watch him finish up our car first, then discuss payment," she added loud-whispering back.

Walking into the car shop, you and Luna got close to your car as Steve was doing some work under the hood. Now noticing your presence, he smiled.

"It's almost done. If you don't have all the money, we can do an IOU or a check or something," he added.

Thankfully, Steve was the only other living soul in sight. Good, you thought this time with him needed to be alone and, hopefully, soon, intimate as well.

"Oh, I'm sure we can arrange something," Luna boldly declared as she touched his shoulder.

Steve was wearing a black tank top and black jeans with a leather-red belt and looked good enough to eat.

"Yeah, we can work something out," you added as you placed your hand against his lower back.

Steve was blushing again, which made you giggle softly to yourself.

"We never told you how we paid Eddie back yesterday," Luna confessed as she squeezed his shoulder.

Steve was busying himself under the hood doing some tinkering with the wires.

"Well, you could tell me I'm all yours. Just about done anyway."

"You are so fast. How could we ever repay you?" You asked, genuinely curious.

"No worries, and it's fine."

"If you must know, we paid Eddie back with a threesome. He just worked so hard for us yesterday and last minute too," you added as you leaned forward, letting him get a good view of your cleavage.

Steve gulped and smiled shyly.

"That's something else, isn't it? Well, I don't expect that."

You grabbed Steve's belt, running your fingers over the smooth leather. Luna touched Steve's protruding bulge in his pants.

"I'm not done here yet though," Steve added as he went back to fixing the car's engine.

"How about a small favor, then?" Luna questioned as she grabbed one of Steve's hands and put it on her breasts.

"How about a double blowjob? You can finish for us after we rock your world," you offered sincerely.

Already you were feeling wet and something told you Luna probably was too.

"Yes, please."

"Good, because we both have fantasized about sucking the King of Hawkins' cock before. Is it as big as the ladies say?" Luna asked curiously as she undid his belt.

Steve stood up, letting her do what she wanted before you pushed him down into a chair with wheels. You pulled down Steves's pants and Luna freed his cock from its inner boxer confines as you both licked your lips ravenously. You were cock-hungry for his well-hung dick and practically salivated at the sight of it. To say that he was well-endowed was an understatement.

His cock was thick, veiny, at least a good 8 inches. You stroked his shaft as Luna cradled his balls, earning deep grunts from Steve as you and Luna maintained eye contact with him.

"Oh, fuck, feels nice already. Such dirty girls. Perfect payment plan, I'd say," Steve grunted before licking his lips.

"Such a pretty cock, King," you praised him before licking his shaft from tip to base.

Luna licked the other side of his shaft, and your tongues met. Steve watched with pure lust in his eyes.

"Bet you never had two girls please your cock together, huh?" You asked with a cocky smile before going right back to licking him with Luna, your tongues meeting occasionally.

Steve felt like he had just died and gone to heaven.

"No never. Just one woman at a time," he hissed as you took him into your mouth, sucking him deeper and deeper.

Luna sucked on one of his balls as you both kept constant eye contact with Steve. This was truly the time of his life having two beautiful women suck him off as he got a good view of your cleavage and hers. Steve pulled your hair back as you sucked him off, almost completely gagging and spitting on his cock as Luna maneuvered herself so that she was sucking his other ball into her mouth. As you sucked and drooled all over his big cock, he bucked his hips, grunting and pulling on your loose ponytail.

"That's right, suck his cock good. Deep throat him," Luna encouraged you as she cupped your breasts and looked up at Steve.

"Good girl, so close to deep-throating this cock," Steve praised as he threw his head back and bit his lips.

As you deep-throated him, you let him use and enjoy your wet and warm mouth to his liking. His thrusts became faster, and you felt yourself grow wet, making a mess of your panties as you sucked him off like a pro. Popping off his cock, Luna eagerly kissed you to taste how he tasted.

"Good job. That was so sexy to watch. Now it's my turn."

You kissed her again as Steve watched his cock twitching, loving the sight of two girls kissing in front of him on their knees, no less.

"So good for me. I love this. The kissing, the stimulation, the sucking. Fuck!" Steve boasted, secretly wishing he had received a double blowjob sooner.

Not only could you deep-throat him, but you were good at keeping your teeth back. It was the way Steve loved it and preferred it.

"When we are done with you, we want you to cum in our mouths," Luna requested before kissing you again.

"As long as you share and kiss," he demanded.

You both nodded right before Luna removed her top and sucked him. Steve loved the sight of her boobs. You pulled your dress down and undid your bra's front clasp, letting him get a good view.

"Mmm, come here and let me play with them," he ordered as he made a come here motion with his finger.

Standing up, you wrapped your arms around Steve's shoulders, your breasts face level as Luna sucked him deep, making him groan loudly.

"Love your boobs, Y/N," he boasted as he teased your nipples, tweaking them and rubbing them, caressing and squeezing.

Luna replaced her mouth with her breasts, wrapping them around his cock and tit-fucking him, earning a low hiss from Steve as he sucked your nipple, causing you to groan in delight and tug his beautiful locks of brown hair.

"Like this Stevie?" She asked him before licking the tip and moving her breasts up and down on his shaft.

"Fuck yes. Hey, princess, why don't you get down there and join her?" Steve suggested.

You kissed Steve in response before getting down on your knees again, cradling his balls.

"Mm, so big Steve, you like my breasts?" Luna asked as she moved her breasts faster and licked the tip of his cock head.

"Mmm yes, so much!"

Steve thrust his hips faster as she pleased him and you massaged his balls and sucked on one. Luna pulled you in for a kiss, letting you get a good taste of Steve's cock.

"Now it's your turn," she told you before letting you switch places with her.

You gladly swapped places and wrapped your breasts around his cock before moving up and down, looking up at him with a mischievous smirk in your eyes and licking and sucking the tip of his cock. Luna watched with wide eyes as she grabbed your ass and slapped it.

"Such a naughty girl, isn't she, Steve?"

"She sure is. So good at that with her mouth of hers. Fuck!" He gasped as he threw his head back in pure ecstasy.

Taking Steve deeper into your mouth, Luna held back your hair and helped you to move your head up and down on his cock.

"That's right, deep throat, my cock, baby!" Steve urged as he bucked his hips erratically.

Luna stood up to kiss Steve before getting down on her knees and licking Steve's balls. Your lips met hers in yet another kiss as you stroked his cock and massaged the pearly tip already leaking with pre-cum.

"So close!" He cried out as he felt his cock twitch in your hand.

The sight of you kissing Luna, you stroking his cock, and Luna squeezing his balls almost made him cum on the spot.

"Cum in our mouths Steve," you urged before going back to licking his shaft, your tongue tangling with Lunas every so often.

"Oh yes fuck!" He bellowed as Steve reached the precipice of his release.

You took turns sucking him off with Luna before he pulled away slightly and jerked himself off, cumming deep inside your mouth first, then Lunas.

"Now share!" He demanded.

You kissed Luna deeply with your tongue, putting on a show for Steve. You spit into her mouth and she spit right back into yours before you shared his cock again for the last time, licking him clean and swallowing. Luna and you opened up your mouths wide to show him all his cum was gone.

"That's the hottest thing I've ever seen," Steve proudly tells you and Luna.

"I guess our service is paid off now, huh?" Luna inquired as she looks up at him.

"I guess so, but you ladies can call me anytime."

"Great, I guess we will," you replied with a slight shrug.

Steve kissed you and Luna, happy to have shared such an intimate moment with you both.

You had Steve and Eddie right where you wanted them. Every time you found yourself back in Hawkins, you visited them both at the mechanic shop for some quality fun together and got that every time you went.

tag list:

@corneliuswatkins @jadeylovesmarvelxo @ali-r3n @mrprettywhenhecries @ofhawkinsandvecna

@keeryatmosphere @daisy-is-a-writer @lovemesomeeddiemunson @lovelythoughtfulcupcake @munson-mjstan

@espressomunson @edsbug @eddiemunsonfuxks @solitarydemise @seatnights

@corrodedcorpses @hcwthewestwaswcn @bimbobaggins69 @thescoopstroopers @haceleyes

@onegirlmanytales @aleisashortcake @zestychili @veemoon @thepurplelovewitch

@ellharrington @stolen-in-moonlight @hellv1ra @kelseyaparker19 @keikoraven

@iliketoreadandcry @eddies-bunny @loritate7311 @somethingvicked @eddxemxnson

@harringtonfan4 @micheledawn1975 @steveslittlesunflower

[radiosteve]

Casual

Summary: When did being friends with benefits with Steve Harrington get so complicated? Probably when your "no strings attached" relationship suddenly had strings.

Note: Loosely based on the song Casual by Chappell Roan. I slowly wrote this over the past month or so which is why it took so long. I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: 18+, No use of y/n, language, friends with benefits to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), angst, jealousy.

Pairings: Steve Harrington x reader

Word count: 11.3k+

Knee deep in the passenger seat

The buzz of the evening air filled the car, prickling your skin with each passing second. Or maybe that was the A/C that Steve had on full blast, cooling the cramped car to an uncomfortable degree. Without a second thought, you reached forward, fingers finding the dial that would alleviate the shivers raking your body. But Steve’s hand shot out, swatting away your futile attempts to not freeze to death in the passenger seat.

“What the hell, Steve?” you shot him a glare, crossing your arms over your chest and unknowingly pushing up your breasts in the process, drawing Steve’s not-so-subtle gaze. In all honesty, Steve was cold too. Sure, it was summer in Hawkins and the sweltering heat and humidity bogged down the heavy air, but his car was a cool 66°F. 

“I’m sweating over here, sweetheart,” Steve shrugged, placing his hand back on the steering wheel. He was lying of course, but he couldn’t tell you that he wanted the A/C on so he could continue to catch glimpses of your pebbled nipples poking against the thin fabric of your tank top. He especially couldn’t say that because Eddie and Robin were in the backseat, a fact he had entirely forgotten until their muffled conversation rose dramatically in volume.

“And then they found that old guy’s fucking bones,” Eddie practically shouted with excitement, and your brow furrowed. Robin echoed Eddie’s statement, sharing the same elation regarding their conversation topic, which only confused you more. You turned in your seat, curious to know what the hell you had missed between them during your battle with Steve and the air conditioner. But then the car jerked to the left entering Forest Hills trailer park, and you knew you’d never find out.

The car halted in front of Eddie’s trailer, causing your body to jerk forward at the sudden stop. You let out a groan in response and were met with Steve’s cruel cackle. Meanwhile, Eddie tumbled out of the backseat into his front lawn and Robin followed suit on the other side.

“Wait, Rob,” you called, quickly rolling your window down so she could actually hear you. “I thought we were dropping you off?”

“Change of plans. I promised Max that we’d go through her comic collection so I’m just gonna crash at her place tonight,” Robin pointed over her shoulder and you spotted the mess of fiery red hair watching from the window. You nodded and exchanged a quick goodbye as Robin strolled over to Max’s front door. You watched her retreating figure, but it was soon blocked by Eddie ripping the passenger door open and hastily grabbing your cheek before placing a sloppy kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Dude,” you wiped your lips with the back of your hand, trying to rid yourself of any trace of Eddie’s saliva. Eddie’s eyes flickered over your shoulder to land on Steve. He watched the fire ignite in Steve’s eyes, the flames encasing his pupils at the stretch of Eddie’s smirk.

“C’mon, princess. You know you want me,” Eddie winked at you and you pushed him away from the car with a laugh. He stumbled back a few steps, regaining his balance as you pulled the car door shut. 

“In your dreams, Munson,” you shot him a smile as Steve began driving off, leaving Eddie to watch as the car pulled away. He stood content, knowing he’d accomplished his mission to rile Steve up. You rolled up the window and turned to Steve, expecting his expression to reflect the amusement you felt as a result of Eddie’s antics. 

But Steve, ever so unpredictable, had never been one to conform to your expectations before. His face appeared hardened, like it was set in stone as his white knuckles gripped the steering wheel tightly. He kept his gaze on the road as if he was incapable of looking elsewhere, particularly at you.

The silence grew heavy within the car, only elevating the tension that blossomed seemingly out of nowhere. Steve was driving too fast and you wanted to tell him to slow down but he spoke before you could.

“You like it when Munson kisses you?” his tone was harsh and cold like you were his worst enemy rather than his friend of many years. But you’d known Steve long enough to understand where this was coming from. He was jealous, though he’d never ever admit it, not to himself and most certainly not to you. Despite his insistence to keep things casual between you and him, he was quite good at blurring the line.

“Steve, I’d hardly call that a kiss,” you scoffed, already knowing that this was an argument in the making. Steve was silent, knots forming in his tensed shoulders as he continued driving. “And what does it matter? You made out with Stacy Townsend last week. It's not like we're dating, Steve,” you huffed and the car quickly turned off the main road into a shaded grove, away from any prying eyes. 

Steve practically threw the car in park and unbuckled his seatbelt so quickly you could’ve gotten whiplash. He exited the car, rounding the back and appearing at your door before you could even turn in your seat to track his motion. Steve tore the door open, leaning down and reaching between your legs. Your breath stopped at the feeling of his arm brushing against your thighs, but you quickly realized he was simply adjusting the seat to push it all the way back.

“What are you-” you began but quickly stopped as Steve occupied the space in front of you. His knees rested on the carpeted floor of his car as his back brushed against the glove box. There was enough room for him to comfortably rest between your open legs as he swung the door shut, trapping you in the confines of his presence.

“Is he a good kisser?” Steve asked, the traces of jealousy still ever so present in his tone, but there was something else too. Something deeper and more lustful that almost helped to outweigh the annoyance you felt in the moments prior. You knew to play along, follow Steve’s prompts, and adapt to the scenario.

“He’s pretty good, Stevie. Might want to kiss him again,” you let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding and you watched Steve’s gaze trace over you. He once again found the outline of your peaked nipples, teasing him in the car’s cool atmosphere. Steve couldn’t help himself, letting his fingers trail up your chest, tracing over your nipples once he finally reached them.

“Is he better than me?” Steve asked, relishing in the soft sign that escaped you at the brush of his fingers over your clothed skin. He knew your body like the back of his hand at this point, giving him some control over you.

“He might be,” you refused to give in, knowing Steve would give you what you want regardless. But Steve understood you in the same way that you did him, and he expected that you’d play hard to get, which only made it more fun for him. One of his hands dropped, reaching for the hem of your tank top and pulling it up above your breasts, leaving them on display for him. 

Steve resumed his teasing to your left nipple, gently circling it with his thumb. He leaned in slowly, keeping his eyes locked with yours as his lips met your breast, placing slow open-mouthed kisses on your soft flesh. After leaving a few marks he brought his mouth to your nipple, gently pecking it with his soft lips before placing a bruising kiss on it in a way that made you gasp in pleasure.

“Fuck,” you moaned as Steve’s teeth grazed your sensitive skin. His eyes never left yours, drinking in the sight of you slowly unraveling at the feel of his lips. Steve trailed his kisses lower, expanding over your torso and down to the waistband of your skirt.

His hands caressed your thighs, parting them even wider than before while he hiked your skirt up your hips. The lace of your panties now sat exposed to Steve as his hungry eyes roamed over the fabric.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Steve spoke with a smirk, his breath fanning over your lap, warming your cunt in a way that made you squirm. “Just leave that for Munson since he’s such a better kisser,” confidence and cockiness dripped from Steve’s voice like honey. He moved to pull your skirt back down, anticipating your pleas to continue. Luckily for him, you conceded.

“No, Steve. Please,” you begged, hand shooting out to stop him. And that was all he needed before he was pulling your panties from your legs and tossing them somewhere in the backseat. You were sure you’d never see them again. Steve placed a gentle kiss on your clit before licking your entrance to make you squirm. As if it were pure instinct, your hand shot out, gripping the soft locks of Steve’s hair.

That motivated him to really dive in, being more purposeful in the swipe of his tongue through your folds. Steve relished in the sound of your moans, the way your hips slid against the seat to meet his mouth, and how you threw your head back when his nose nudged your clit. Quite frankly, Steve had never been a big fan of eating girls out until he started hooking up with you. There was something about the way you reacted to the flick of his tongue that ended in him cumming in his pants on more than one occasion.

“So close, Stevie,” the breathy tone of your voice encouraged Steve further as he abandoned your entrance. His lips attached firmly to your clit, letting his teeth graze your sensitive bud as he sucked on it. Your chest was heaving at that point, tits jiggling with each heaving breath, and the sight had Steve palming himself through his jean shorts. And suddenly it was all too much for you as Steve’s tongue flicked wildly over your clit. 

Your thighs shook around Steve’s head while your fingers dug deep into his scalp and you came undone. Steve lapped at your entrance, licking up every last bit of your slick before finally pulling back with a labored breath. He leaned up on his knees, admiring how fucked out you looked. It was his favorite way to see you. Steve placed a fervent kiss on your lips, encapsulating all of the passion that flowed through you both at that moment.

“So who’s the better kisser now?” Steve whispered against your lips as a smirk tugged the corners of his mouth. You scoffed, pushing him gently away from you and pulling your skirt back down. It was impossible to keep the smile from your lips though, especially when Steve got up from the footwell of the car and you saw the wet spot on the crotch of his shorts. 

He got back in the driver’s seat and brought the car back to life. This time you welcomed the harsh blast of the A/C given the sticky heat between your legs and the warm air that now filled the fogged-up car. Steve drove you home, stopping in front of your driveway to let you out. He placed a quick peck on your lips before letting you out, leaving you to walk back to your front door. You stopped just before the entrance, turning to get one last look at the maroon BMW before disappearing into your house. The taste of yourself and Steve’s arrogance still lingered on the tip of your tongue as you watched him drive off into the dark summer night.

You said “Baby, no attachment”

“Jesus, this place is packed,” Eddie spoke beside you, his grip tight on his black lunch box. He’d dragged you to some house party so he could have company while he dealt. But you’d tagged along with Eddie to one too many parties to know that he’d soon disappear behind a wall of letterman jackets that he’d overcharged for weed simply because he could. You only agreed to go because of the promise of free booze.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you shouted over the blaring music that ricocheted off the walls in the crowded living room. Eddie nodded, already being pulled away by someone looking to buy from him. You struggled your way through the sea of people to the closed-off kitchen, settling on whatever liquor you deemed the strongest. It was then that you saw him. Steve’s perfectly styled hair framed his face as he leaned down to whisper something into the ear of some very tipsy blonde across the room. 

“Figures,” you scoffed under your breath, tilting your cup to your lips and ingesting its bitter contents. Steve hadn’t told you he was coming to the party, likely because he was determined to find a one-night stand or come crawling to you if he struck out. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

You refilled your now empty cup before departing the kitchen and shimming your way onto the makeshift dance floor in the living room. A slight buzz already consumed you, diminishing any worried thoughts, particularly about a certain brown-haired boy.

Someone in a letterman jacket approached you, matching your movements with a shy smile. His name was Marcus, one of the nicer basketball players from your graduating class. Letting the alcohol control you, you threw your arms over his shoulders, careful not to spill your drink. You pulled him close, pressing yourself flush against him and moving to the beat of the music. Marcus was cute, flushed red as his hands snaked around to land on your hips.

As you got lost in the ocean blue of Marcus’s eyes, you remained oblivious to the sudden drawl of Steve’s attention as he stumbled into the room. Steve’s stare lingered over your figure, the press of your breasts against Marcus’s chest, the trail of his fingers as they inched towards the hem of your skirt. Steve couldn't tear his eyes away from you, brushing off whatever girl he’d been trying to bed and stalking in your direction.

Marcus’s lips hovered over yours, tempting you with each passing breath. Finally, sick of the teasing, you used your free hand to pull his neck down, effectively closing the gap. He tasted like bubblegum and Coca-Cola, and it became clear to you then that he hadn’t been drinking. You weren’t some drunken conquest to him, just a girl he wanted to dance with.

You pulled back at the revelation, feeling a little guilty for assuming all the boy in front of you wanted was a drunken hookup. But you didn’t have much time to think about it because Steve came barreling over from across the room.

“Marcus,” he spoke simply, eyeing the boy up and down. They had been teammates at one point, but now in Steve’s mind, they were mortal enemies. He wasn’t sure why he felt so jealous considering he’s the one who insisted on being friends with benefits and nothing more. But there was no time to dwell on that.

“Hi, Steve. How have you been?” Marcus asked genuinely, seemingly unaware of the growing tension between the three of you. You stood like a deer in headlights, watching and waiting for the tornado to touch down, the hurricane to make landfall, Steve to do something stupid.

“I’m doing great. Mind if I borrow her?” Steve brushed off Marcus’s attempts at friendly conversation, gesturing to you and grabbing ahold of your arm to drag you away before Marcus could even answer. It wasn’t exactly the stupid gesture you thought it would be, more like fists thrown and punches landed, but it still annoyed you just as much.

“What the hell are you doing?” you finally wiggled out of Steve’s grasp as he took you out the front door. You set down the cup that had previously occupied your hand before whipping around angrily to meet Steve’s gaze.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, staring you down as if he were a parent scolding his disobedient child. 

“It’s a party, Steve. I’m partying,” you rolled your eyes, your voice deadpan as the heat of your rage mixed with the hot summer air. Steve scoffed, moving across the front porch to stand in front of you.

“You know what I mean, sweetheart. What were you doing with Marcus?” Steve’s breath fanned your face, doing nothing to help cool you in your overheated state.

“Whatever I want. You and I aren’t dating, remember?” you gestured between the two of you. Suddenly you felt like you’d been backed into a corner. Steve’s body inched closer to yours, encompassing you against the house’s siding, trapping you with nowhere to go. Partygoers came and went as they pleased, not sparing a passing glance your way as Steve cornered you. For a moment you let yourself get pulled into his allure, succumbing to his overwhelmingly dominant charm.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? To have me all to yourself? Then you wouldn’t have to hook up with other guys to try and make me jealous,” Steve’s lips ghosted over yours in the way that always left you whining for more. But something stopped you.

“Wait,” you put your hands on his chest, pushing him back to give you space. “You think I kissed Marcus to make you jealous?” you asked a very confused Steve as you deliberately ignored the fact that he had admitted to being jealous. Steve’s brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what he said wrong.

“Yeah, why else would you have kissed him?” Steve countered, pulling back from you naturally, allowing more space to blossom between you.

“You’re unbelievable,” you stated, anger boiling up beneath the surface and scorching your skin. “Not everything is about you, dickhead,” you pushed past him, heading back towards the front door, desperately in need of another drink after this. But Steve’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm for a second time that evening. His grip was softer this time, free of the possessive fury that drove him earlier.

“That was shitty. I’m sorry,” he rushed out, dropping the overconfident demeanor. In the complicated web of your relationship, it was often difficult to remember what you truly were: friends. And now, before you, stood a friend who genuinely felt bad for making everything about him. 

“That was really shitty,” you spoke fiercely, still unmoved with Steve’s grip on your arm. “Apology accepted,” you caved, and Steve dropped his hand, ignoring the sudden cold that filled his palm in the absence of his skin on yours.

“Can we just forget about this and go back inside?” Steve asked and you responded with a nod, already halfway to the door. The party was even more crowded than before, making it far more difficult to find Marcus. “Shit,” Steve muttered beside you, pulling your gaze in the same direction as his.

Across the living room on the makeshift dance floor was the blonde girl Steve had been chatting up earlier. A wicked grin spread across your lips as you watched her sloppily suck face with some dude who was sure to be holding back her hair later while she spilled her guts into a toilet. You stifled a laugh, pulling Steve’s attention away from the blonde and back to you.

“See what happens when you meddle in my love life,” you patted him on the shoulder, his frown only making it harder to contain your laughter.

“Yeah, well I don’t see Marcus anywhere. Maybe he’s got some girl holed up in a room somewhere,” he pointed over his shoulder to the hallway of locked bedroom doors. He wanted to make you feel how he felt at that moment like he was the last kid picked for the kickball team. Undesired. Not that it could possibly be true though, because there was always one person who would always want you, even though he’d never admit it.

“Whatever, I’m getting another drink,” you brushed him off, already making your way through the packed room to burst through the kitchen door. You entered the kitchen, unexpectedly bumping into a solid chest clad in orange, white, and green. Marcus.

“Hey, where’d you and Harrington run off to earlier?” he asked, fingers brushing your arms as he steadied you.

“Sorry about that. Steve was having some girl trouble and needed advice,” you lied, though somehow not entirely. Marcus gave you a soft smile with a nod of understanding. “Do you maybe want to get out of here?” you asked, hoping you didn’t scare off the shy, sweet boy before you. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he smiled and you couldn’t help but beam back up at him. You led him back through the throngs of people, passed Eddie who gave you a thumbs up at the sight of Marcus’s hand wrapped around yours, and out the front door.

On the porch steps sat a very deflated Steve, smoking what you were sure wasn’t a cigarette. You told Marcus you’d meet him by his car before sitting down next to Steve.

“Rough night?” you asked as if it was your first time seeing him that evening. He played along with your game though, something he always did.

“You could say that. Think a girl is gonna go home with you and then she’s mackin’ on some other dude,” he blew smoke from his lips, the skunky scent filling the air around you. “Still got you though. What do you say? I can take you back to mine and rock your world, sweetheart,” he wagged his eyebrows at you, his goofy nature peeking through.

It always surprised you how drastically different he could be with you. One minute he’d have you pinned against a wall with his tongue down your throat and the next he’d crack a joke and flub the punchline. The duality of man it seems, or maybe just Steve.

“Sorry, Stevie. I’ve already got a ride,” you pointed towards Marcus who stood leaning up against his car, awaiting your arrival back to his open arms. “See you tomorrow?” you stood, patting him on the knee, and began your trek across the lawn. Steve mumbled out a response, watching as you approached Marcus. 

Upon your arrival, Marcus took you in his arms, placed a soft kiss on your lips, and opened the passenger door for you. Steve watched as you waved to him through the car window, taking another drag from the joint between his fingertips. He wasn’t sure when he started feeling so empty, so complicated when he thought he was devoid of love. But he knew as the taillights disappeared into the dark summer night, that something sparked within him. The lack of strings involved in no strings attached had suddenly appeared and become tangled together.

Dream of us in a year

The cardboard box weighed heavy in your hands as you exited the elevator. Sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floors as you traveled down the hall, stopping in front of a door labeled 217. Your hands fumbled with the handle, struggling to keep the box from falling as you tried to open the door. 

It swung open, revealing a floppy-haired Steve with his sleeves rolled up behind it. He was a year older now, stubble shadowing his upper lip while shallow wrinkles had already started to line his forehead. He grabbed the box from your hands and moved inside, setting it down in the apartment’s living room. You took a moment to look around, taking in the freshly painted walls and soft carpeted floors.

“Can you believe we’ve got this whole place to ourselves?” Steve came up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, breathing in the scent of your perfume. Lavender and vanilla.

“You say that as if Eddie, Robin, and the kids won’t constantly be in and out of here,” you spoke, spinning around to face Steve. Steve shrugged, a smirk cresting his lips.

“Not if we don’t give them a key,” Steve asserted, evoking a laugh from you, throwing your head back as the sound spilled from your lips. As if they’d let you and Steve have your own apartment without giving them easy access to it too. Steve took advantage of your thrown-back head and placed his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of kisses up the column of your throat.

“Steve,” you groaned, stuck between wanting him to continue and needing to keep moving your belongings into your new apartment. But Steve continued his attack on your neck, licking over the fresh bruises he painted across your skin.

“C’mon, baby. We’ll have to christen this place at some point. Why not now?” Steve spoke against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. He pushed you back, your body softly colliding with the end of the kitchen counter.

“We’ve still got boxes to bring up,” you answered in heavy, panting breaths. Steve’s hand came up to cup your cheek, his lips traveling to yours in a bruising heat. He was weakening your resolve by the second.

“You really want to stop, then we’ll stop,” Steve stated, pulling back from your lips. He was calling your bluff, you knew that. But your lips missed his and you suddenly felt so cold without his body pressed to yours. So you caved.

“Fuck it, we’ll get ‘em later,” you pulled Steve back in, crashing your lips back together. Steve’s hand drifted from its place on your cheek, moving down your body. He stopped at your breast, giving it a squeeze, before moving down to your shorts.

In one fell swoop, Steve pulled your shorts and panties down your legs and replaced the cloth of your underwear with his fingertips. He brushed against your wet folds, coating his fingers in your juices. A whimper slipped from within you, Steve’s teasing only arousing you more.

He finally slipped a finger in and curled it. Your knees buckled, hands gripping the cool granite countertop to hold you steady.

“Shit, Steve. Feels so good,” he continued his motion, adding another finger. You could feel the tension building within you like a rubber band threatening to snap. You just got to the edge when…

You startled awake, abruptly sitting up and slamming the side of your head into something.

“Ah fuck, that hurt,” you said, rubbing the aching spot and leaning back into the couch.

“You’re telling me,” Steve said from beside you, also touching his head in pain. You’d fallen asleep on his shoulder and slammed your head into his when you snapped awake.

“Sorry, had a weird dream,” you apologized before directing your attention back to the movie you’d been watching before you fell asleep.

“Yeah? What was it about,” Steve prodded, trying to pull your focus back to him. He was clearly just as bored with whatever movie was playing as you had been.

“I, uh, don’t really remember,” you lied poorly, keeping your eyes off of Steve. It felt weird to face him after your dream. It made you feel guilty like your subconscious wanted your relationship with Steve to be more than what it was.

“Liar,” Steve concluded after studying your avoidant gaze. He inched closer, his body turned towards you in his spot on the couch. “You had a sex dream,” he accused and your head snapped in his direction. Your wide-eyed gaze only confirmed what Steve had already guessed. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed with a smile on his face.

“Nope. No. I didn’t have a sex dream,” you denied but Steve was already ignoring you, lost in a slew of his own thoughts.

“You had a sex dream while sleeping on my shoulder. Should I be flattered or offended? Well, I’d be flattered if it was about me. Was it about me?” Steve rambled, ignoring your protests. Once again, your avoidant eyes told Steve everything he needed to know.

“So what? We’ve had actual sex. What’s it matter if I dreamed about it?” you spoke defensively once you realized there was no point in hiding the truth. In the heat of the moment, you hadn’t realized that your body now faced Steve.

“Nothing wrong with it, babe. Just wish you’d told me sooner. We could already be working on making your dream a reality,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, earning a chuckle in response. Steve leaned in, his body hovering over yours, lips just a breath away from touching.

“No thanks, Stevie,” you pushed him back playfully, knowing he’d be back on you in a second. Just as you expected he moved back in, closing any distance between you.

“Don’t dream it, be it,” he whispered, placing a soft kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“Don't you dare quote Rocky Horror at me right now,” you scolded Steve with a smile, one that he reflected back at you.

“Let me kiss you then,” he spoke softly, tenderly, like it was his biggest desire. You melted, feeling some form of intimacy that rarely reared its head during your hookups with Steve. The walls between you fell down, allowing Steve’s lips to meet yours. 

It was soft, gentler than he’d ever kissed you before. As if a switch had been flipped within you both, the lust and desire that had been building for months finally reached its peak and spilled out from each of your lips.

Steve’s knee came up between your thighs, adding the friction you desperately needed after the combination of your dream and his kiss. You pulled apart for a second so you could take off your top and bra, your eyes refusing to leave Steve’s as you did. 

You laid flat on your back, extending an open invitation for Steve to swoop in. His gaze on you was hungry and lustful, but it was also something else, something different than it ever had been before. If you didn’t know any better you'd think the look in his eyes was love.

Steve followed suit, removing his own shirt and shimming out of his pants and boxers. He pulled your shorts and panties from your legs, staring open-mouthed at your exposed core. Your dream already had your folds coated in desire, begging to be lapped up by Steve’s skilled tongue. He wanted to taste you, to devour you in the way you both loved, but your hand stopped him.

“Stevie, need you now,” you whined breathily, Steve’s eyes catching yours once again. He nodded, moving up to hover over your body that lay flat against the couch. Your slick made it easy for him to slip in, earning whimpers from both of you as your walls sucked him in.

Steve watched your face for a moment, simply because he could, because he wanted to. He admired the scrunch of your brow, the slight gape of your lips, and the pleading look in your eye. It only enticed him more, finally encouraging him to move.

With a sharp breath, Steve pulled out a bit before pushing back in. It was slow and deep, a stark contrast to the usual fast and rough nature of your hookups with Steve. He was hitting places deep within you, pulling silent moans from your lips.

Your hands searched for something to hold, to guide you through the pleasure Steve’s thrusts were forging. One hand landed on his back, gripping tightly to his skin. The other fell flat against the couch, an open palm facing up by your shoulder. 

Steve, who had been so consumed with studying the way your face screwed up as he dragged his cock in and out of you, noticed the fall of your hand. He grabbed it quickly, interlocking his fingers with yours. Steve thrust harder then, though he maintained his steady pace. His eyes locked with yours once more, labored breaths dancing in the small space between his lips and yours. 

Steve ground down hard, your hips matching his rhythm as you both neared your highs. You suddenly felt shy. The press of Steve’s body to yours combined with the intensity of your locked eyes, making you glance elsewhere.

“Baby,” Steve’s breathy voice rang out, his free hand turning your face and bringing your gaze back to him. “Want you to look at me when you cum. Need to see it. Please, baby,” he begged, the rhythm of his thrusts faltering slightly, telling you that he was close.

You just nodded, leaning up a bit to kiss him. Steve savored the feel of your lips on his before you pulled back, meeting his gaze as requested. The pressure in the pit of your stomach became too much. Your hand squeezed Steve’s tightly as your face contorted in pleasure and your walls fluttered around him.

Steve watched as you hit your high, continuing his thrusts as your thighs shook and your moans of his name echoed throughout the room. He couldn’t hold on any longer, reaching his own peak with a low groan of your name. His eyes never left yours as he pumped his hot ropes of cum into you and watched you unwind. 

After you’d both calmed down, breaths evening out, and chests no longer heaving, Steve gently pulled out. He kept his body on yours, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. Then he got up, retrieving a damp washcloth to clean you both up. 

The both of you redressed and resumed your previous spots on the couch, pretending to pay attention to the movie again. You tried to ignore the shift in the air, the warmth that filled your chest at the thought of what just happened. 

Steve did the same, his wandering eyes glazed over as he got lost in thought about the whole ordeal. Something occurred to him then, something too important to ignore. His past few hookups hadn’t made him feel anywhere close to how good he just felt with you, how good he always felt with you.

The other girls were always too loud or too demanding or too submissive, but were they really? Steve would get hung up on some flaw while with them, no matter how big or small, and effectively throw off the whole thing for himself. 

But as he sat there with the smell of sex still lingering in the air and some shitty movie playing on the screen in front of him, Steve realized that the other girls’ biggest flaw was always just that they weren’t you. And maybe Steve didn’t want no strings attached anymore. Maybe he just wanted you. And he had no clue how to tell you.

I’m still hanging around

Family Video hadn’t seen a customer for the past hour and forty-five minutes. The front counter had been wiped clean at least six times and all the tapes were put back into the system and reshelved, leaving Robin and Steve with absolutely nothing to do.

They’d resorted to taking turns trying to catch candy in their mouths when the bell sounded from above the front door. You strolled in with a furrowed brow as you watched Robin pick a stray skittle from her hair.

“Congrats on the big promotion, Steven,” you called out, approaching the counter with a wide smile. Steve’s new name tag with the words “Shift Lead” printed beneath his name shined in the store's harsh overhead lighting. Before Steve could thank you or comment on the use of his full name, Robin spoke up, effectively interrupting him.

“Thank god, someone to talk to other than this bozo,” Robin gestured to Steve who shot her a frown. “So tell me, how’d your date go last night?” she asked, leaning forward on her elbows and abandoning the half-empty pack of Skittles that sat on the counter.

Steve rolled his eyes at the mention of you going on another date with another guy, likely with some douchebag who didn’t deserve you. He took that as his cue to leave, wandering around the store to make himself look busy and avoid overhearing any talk of how soft this new guy’s lips were. Steve could still feel the pang of jealousy that lived in the pit of his stomach ever since you said that about some guy you went out with last week.

Despite his recent revelation, Steve had made no move to make his feelings known to you. He was caught in limbo between being seconds from spilling his guts to you at any given moment and refraining out of the fear of ruining your friendship. The more he heard of you going out with other guys, the more he doubted whether his feelings would be reciprocated.

“That bad?” Robin practically shouted in response to what you told her about your date, dragging Steve from his thoughts and drawing him into your conversation. He lingered near the movie shelves, just close enough to hear as you recounted the way your date more or less slobbered into your mouth when you made out.

“I had to chug half a bottle of mouthwash to feel like I wasn’t drowning in his saliva anymore,” you sighed, resting your chin in your hand as you leaned against the counter.

“That sucks, man,” Robin said, patting your shoulder comfortingly. The bell above the door rang out and Robin peered over your shoulder to catch a look at the customer. Robin glanced at Steve, hoping he’d help whoever just walked in, but he simply pointed over his shoulder, indicating for her to get to work. “Shit, duty calls,” she spoke quickly, rushing from behind the counter to greet the new customer.

“So,” Steve appeared seemingly out of nowhere, sliding behind the counter to stand where Robin previously was. “I told my parents about my promotion and they want to take me out to a nice dinner,” Steve’s gaze was drawn to the glass counter in front of him, suddenly unable to look at you.

“That sounds nice. I’m glad they’re finally recognizing your achievements,” you beamed at him, eyes scanning over his messy hair. He’d clearly been running his hands through it, nervously tugging the perfectly styled strands out of place.

“Yeah,” he started, letting out a huff of breath as he spoke. “They want you to come too,” he finally met your confused gaze. Your brows lifted and your mouth fell agape as you processed Steve’s words.

“Me? What? Why?” was all you could get out, words stuttered as your head filled with questions.

“Well, remember that time they came home early and nearly caught us in the kitchen so we played it off like we were about to make breakfast?” Steve asked, watching as your cheeks heat in embarrassment from the memory.

“The French toast incident. Yeah, I remember,” you nodded, curious about its connection to Steve’s upcoming celebratory dinner.

“Ever since then, they’ve been convinced that we’re dating. No matter how many times I’ve told them we’re not, they still think we’re together. They call you my girlfriend and everything,” Steve informed you, and it was like a light bulb went off in your head.

“The very few interactions I’ve had with them make a lot more sense now,” you stated, recalling all the times Steve’s parents asked you very girlfriend-esque questions. “Anyways, I’ll be there. Anything to support my little Stevie,” you pinched his cheek and Steve couldn’t help but laugh. 

Robin rounded the front counter, barreling Steve aside to ring up the customer she’d been dealing with. You took that as your indication to leave. You spun on your heels, heading back to the front door when Steve called out behind you.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at seven,” Steve spoke and you just kept walking, finally stopping as you reached the door.

“See you then, Stevie,” you smiled at him, pushing open the door and walking out into the summer sun. 

Steve wasn’t sure why his palms were so sweaty all of a sudden. Maybe he could blame it on the rundown air conditioner that Keith refused to replace. But he knew deep down that it was you. It was always you. His chest filled with butterflies at the thought of taking you out on a real date, despite the annoying addition of his parents. He’d treat you better than any of the other guys had before. He’d make you want to be his in the same way that he wanted to be yours, that he was sure of.

I know what you tell your friends

Steve picked you up right when he said he would, watching as you descended your driveway in a sundress. He couldn’t help the silent gasp that fell from his lips, so taken aback by your beauty. The passenger door swung open and you slid into the seat, meeting Steve’s admiring gaze with a smile.

“Ready, boyfriend?” you teased, leaning into the role that Steve’s parents expected you to play. Steve could’ve sworn that his heart stopped as the word fell from your lips. He hadn’t known until then how much he wanted to hear you call him that.

“You bet, girlfriend,” he snapped himself out of his stupor and finally responded, driving off in the direction of the restaurant.

Butterflies bloomed in your stomach, their delicate wings swarming deep within you. Things had been different with Steve recently but you weren’t sure why. His longing stares and flushed cheeks raised feelings from deep within that you were unable to identify, pushing them aside for the sake of your friendship.

The restaurant came into view and you noticed the nervous tap of Steve’s fingers on the steering wheel. When the car came to a stop you took hold of his hand, wrapping his palm with yours and easing the worries that plagued him.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” you spoke softly, comfortingly. Steve’s eyes softened, his head nodding as his nerves melted away at the tingle of his hand enveloped in yours.

The restaurant was packed when you entered, your hand still interlocked with Steve’s. It didn’t take long to find Steve’s parents though, all you had to do was follow the sound of a woman complaining that her ice water had too much ice.

“Hi Mom, Dad,” Steve greeted his parents, pulling their attention to the two of you standing on the opposite side of the table. Steve’s parents were not the touchy kind, opting for a simple nod of their head in greeting rather than a handshake or hug.

“It’s nice to see you again, dear,” Mrs. Harrington addressed you, a plastic smile upturning the corners of her lips. The conversation continued, Steve’s parents pestering you both with questions.

“Steve tells me that you’re in school?” Mr. Harrington questioned, his gaze peering at you through the thick lenses of his glasses. You were taken aback by his question, not expecting him to know much about you. Steve had talked about you to his parents? He’d told them about you and your personal life?

“Yes, I am. I’m enrolled at the community college for now but I plan to transfer to a state school once I get my associate's degree,” you did your best to remain calm under the intense gaze of Steve’s parents, though the foundations of your cool facade were beginning to crack. Steve noticed the panic that creased your brow, taking it upon himself to clutch your hand in his under the table. Relief flooded you instantly, calmed by the warm caress of Steve’s skin on yours.

“That’s a good plan,” Mr. Harrington spoke again, turning his gaze from you to his son. “Seems much better than working at a video store with no thought of the future,” his face remained straight as he insulted Steve as if it were second nature by now.

Steve’s admiring smile, the one that stretched his lips at his father’s approval of your current path, faltered at the harsh words directed his way. Your hand squeezed Steve’s, reminding him that you were still there, that the insensitive words of the man before him didn’t matter. 

“Dad,” Steve started but was quickly silenced by the raise of his father’s hand. It was like watching a dog following its owner’s command to sit. Steve was well trained by now, knowing when to be quiet, but you weren’t.

“With all due respect Mr. Harrington, Steve has worked his ass off at Family Video,” you defended, ignoring the gasp that came from Mrs. Harrington at your use of profanity. “Steve earned his promotion through hard work and dedication, two principles that I thought a businessman like yourself would greatly value,” you continued, your hand still clasped against Steve’s as your rage boiled over.

“Well, yes but-” Mr. Harrington began but you interrupted him before he could continue.

“Maybe it’s not the most glamorous job in the world, but Steve is learning valuable skills that can easily translate to other jobs later on,” you stated while Steve’s parents sat dumbfounded across from you, not used to being talked back to. “It's a shame you can’t see how wonderful and compassionate your son is. You should be proud of the man he’s becoming. I know I am,” your eyes roamed the dropped jaws of Steve’s parents and held back a smile at their shocked expressions.

You turned to Steve then, his gaze securely fastened on you. A smirk danced on his lips as he admired the crease in your forehead and the angry pinch of your brows. He watched as your expression unraveled, softening as your eyes landed on him. 

Steve was speechless, stunned by your fierce loyalty on his behalf. He wanted to kiss you so badly, crush his lips to yours in a way that left a bruise by the time you pulled away for air. But he held himself back, not wanting to make you uncomfortable with such a public display of affection.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to freshen up in the restroom,” you gently pulled your hand from Steve’s, pushing your chair back and knocking some silverware off the table in the process. Steve watched as you walked away, encapsulated by the sway of your hips and the skin exposed by the movement of your dress with each step.

“I’ll go get some clean silverware,” Steve leaned down, picking up the utensils that littered the ground. He then quickly followed in your direction, leaving his still-shocked parents alone at the table. He approached the bathroom, a single-user restroom, and knocked on the door.

“Occupied,” you called out through the door, barely heard over the conversations and soft music that filled the restaurant.

“It’s me,” Steve said into the door, hoping not to attract too much attention from the tables nearby. The lock turned quickly, allowing Steve to push the door open and step into the small bathroom with you.

He clicked the lock back into place before turning to face you. His eyes read yours, receiving their open invitation, so he grasped your face, pulling it to meet his. Steve kissed you in the way he desired to only minutes before, with a rough clash of teeth and tongues that left you breathless.

“That was so fucking hot,” he spoke into your lips, one hand caressing your cheek as the other trailed down to your exposed legs, roaming the expanse of your bare thighs. 

“Steve,” you tried to break free from his kiss, but his lips followed yours. “Your parents are still at the table,” you reminded him, knowing that he intended to do far more than just kiss you.

“We’ll just have to be quick then,” his lips caressed yours again, his hand moving inwards, meeting the seam of your panties. You were conflicted, worry washing over you at the possibility of being caught. But Steve’s touch momentarily quelled the burning heat that bloomed between your legs.

His fingers slipped beneath your panties, tracing the outline of your folds, swiping at the dampness that began to form. He swiftly pulled your panties down, helping you step out of them before shoving them into his back pocket. Steve leaned you over the sink, unzipping his pants and slipping his hardened cock from the confines of the material.

You watched him through the mirror in front of you, his hands stroking his cock before lining it up with your entrance. He eased in, slipping in inch by inch before bottoming out. A moan slipped past his lips as he quickly pulled out and thrust back in, giving you little time to adjust. 

His thrusts were harsh and rough, knocking you forward with each motion. Your elbows that propped you up slid against the sink’s smooth countertop, bringing you closer and closer to the mirror with each movement. But Steve didn’t let up, forcefully pounding his cock into your core as he whimpered above you.

“Fuck, babe,” he groaned, his hands holding your hips in place. “It’s like your pussy was made for me. Squeezing me so good,” he didn’t let up, fucking you desperately, like he’d never get to do it again. 

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, suppressing your moans, not wanting to be heard by the rest of the restaurant. 

“So close, baby,” Steve leaned down, pressing kisses to your bare shoulders while maintaining his fierce pace. Your high was building along with Steve’s as he brushed a spot deep within you. 

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming,” Steve spoke suddenly, catching you off guard as he spilled into you. Steve’s thrusts faltered as he pumped his cum deep within your folds. “All mine. Want you to be all mine,” he whispered into your skin, slumping against your folded body. It took a moment before he stood up straight again, regaining his composure and tucking his cock back into his pants.

You stood up with him, wide eyes watching him from the mirror. He fixed his disheveled hair, not noticing the shocked expression that you wore. You hadn’t cum, hadn’t had enough time for your orgasm to fully build before Steve spilled his seed into you. You also couldn’t ignore the words he muttered against you. Words that spoke of a relationship, something more. The same words that Steve seemed to be completely oblivious to having said. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, finally noticing your worried look. You nodded, observing the boy who seemed to have unknowingly confessed his desires to you. “I’ll leave you to freshen up. I gotta go get more silverware,” he pulled the dirty silverware from his pocket that didn’t have your panties before opening the door and leaving you pantyless, alone in the bathroom with frazzled thoughts and his cum leaking down your thigh.

“What the fuck?” you mumbled to yourself, locking the door once more and cleaning yourself up. Did Steve want to be with you? Did he want to have you in the way you secretly hoped?

Your thoughts still raced as you exited the restroom, weaving through tables to get back to where you previously sat. But something caught your attention, or more like someone. Steve stood with a waiter, some guy you recognized from high school but couldn’t quite name off the top of your head.

“Are you two dating? Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve finally got tied down,” the unnamed waiter said, earning a grin from Steve. You were curious to know his answer, to hear what he said about you when you weren’t around. 

“Nah, man. She’s just some girl that lets me fuck her on my couch,” Steve chuckled, running a hand through his hair. The color drained from your face, breath exhaled shakily as tears welled in your eyes. His response was a far cry from what he’d whispered as he came inside you just moments ago.

Your feet carried you away, stumbling back to the table to avoid being seen by Steve. You plopped into your chair, meeting the skittish gazes of Steve’s parents. Their expressions reminded you of your words from before, how you defended Steve, how very wrong you may have been. 

Steve appeared a minute later clutching a new set of silverware and spewing an apology for how long it took. He placed the silverware in front of you, replacing your soiled set. His hand came to rest on your thigh and you couldn’t help the way you flinched at his touch. It was as if he was a completely different person to you now. 

Conversation resumed, Steve easing the tension at the table and re-engaging with his parents. You chimed in when needed, staying silent otherwise, consumed by thought. Steve’s parents had warmed up to you again by the end of the meal, despite how shutdown you had become.

“Steve should bring you to our house in Long Beach sometime. It’s gorgeous this time of year,” Mrs. Harrington suggested and you forced on a fake smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes, as you nodded. You and Steve thanked his parents for dinner before heading back to Steve’s car. 

The drive back to your house was quiet, your eyes peering through the window, gazing at the passing scenery, doing anything to keep from looking at the boy next to you. Steve came to a stop in front of your driveway and you immediately opened the door, stumbling out and starting the walk to your front door.

“What are you doing?” Steve called after you, exiting his car and following behind you. 

“Going into my house,” you said, not bothering to turn around or stop, continuing your trek to the door.

“No kiss? No goodbye?” Steve questioned, finally reaching you at your doorstep. You had been fumbling with your keys, struggling to unlock the door. Steve’s hand landed on your shoulder and you snapped, abandoning your keys in the lock and whipping around to face him.

“Why does it matter? I’m just some girl that lets you fuck her on your couch, right? So why do you care?” anger spilled out of you with each syllable, causing Steve to pull back, his foot falling down a step, letting you tower over him. “Yeah, I heard you, asshole,” your words spewed from your lips as Steve’s mouth opened, silently fumbling for words.

“I didn’t-” Steve began before you cut him off.

“You don’t have to worry about people thinking you’re tied down anymore, King Steve,” you turned back to your front door, finally managing to get it unlocked. You took a step inside while Steve still stood on the doorstep. “Maybe you can find some other girl to fuck around with instead,” you slammed the door shut, sinking against it and falling to the ground as the tears you held in finally leaked down your cheeks. You didn’t mean it, of course you didn’t mean it. But the hurt and anger tore you apart as you sobbed into your hands.

Steve stood still on your doorstep, his feet rooted to the spot, staring at the closed door. He loved you, he knew that for sure. As his glassy eyes traced the spot where you just stood, he felt his heart crack and shatter, its pieces filling the pit of his stomach with enough force to make bile rise in his throat. Steve knew he loved you, and unfortunately, he knew that he also just lost you.

Someone you couldn’t lose

“I really would rather just go back home. Why do you even need me for this?” you asked Eddie, his arm interlocked with yours, dragging you forward. He continued his steady pace, not letting up despite your dragging feet that weighed him down.

“Because you haven’t done anything but cry for the past few days. You need to leave your cave of solitude,” Eddie’s breath was a bit labored as he led you to the entrance of The Hideout. “Plus Gareth canceled on me and I didn’t want to go by myself,” Eddie added, eliciting an eye roll from you.

“Why couldn’t you take Robin or, I don’t know, literally anyone else?” you asked while Eddie guided you through the bar. The bar was practically empty, the crowd even smaller than when Corroded Coffin usually plays. God, the band playing tonight must suck.

“Because I enjoy your company, sweetheart,” Eddie hummed, plastering a sickeningly sweet smile on his lips. A smile that you met with a glare. “And Robin is busy with Steve tonight,” he revealed his true reason for inviting you.

In another universe, a less complicated one, you would be mad at Eddie for being his last-resort concert buddy. But in this universe, the one where you and Steve were interlinked in an ever-so-tangled web, your heart stopped at the mention of his name.

Steve’s crude words played through your head like a bad earworm, momentarily overtaking your thoughts as your face faltered. Eddie watched the quiver of your lip and crease in your brow. He ached at the thought of your sadness, wanting to alleviate any trace of it, which is why he brought you to The Hideout, but not for the reason that you might think.

“Let’s go get a drink,” Eddie put his hand on your back ushering you towards the nearly empty bar. For once today, he didn’t have to drag you, your feet willingly trailing along behind him at the thought of alcohol. Eddie plopped down on a stool ordering you both a drink while you slid in beside him. 

The drinks were quickly made and paid for, leaving the two of you to sip away in silence. Your gaze drifted around the bar, curiously eyeing its patrons. Something didn’t seem right as you scanned the stage set up on the side of the room.

“Eddie,” you took a sip of your drink, focus shifting back to the boy next to you. “If there’s a show tonight then why is it so empty in here?” the question left your lips and Eddie’s nervous stare landed on the wood surface of the bar below. 

The front door slammed open, saving Eddie from your question. Your head whipped around at the sound of the door in combination with the hushed voices that filled the room. Steve and Robin. They were arguing about something, but you couldn’t hear them. The sounds that encompassed the bar slipped away, leaving your ears ringing in the stark silence. 

Watery eyes gazed upon the boy across the bar that was too enveloped in his conversation to look up. Eddie cleared his throat beside you, but your eyes didn’t leave Steve, roaming over his wild hair and disheveled clothes. Eddie may not have been able to get your attention, but he did get Steve’s, drawing his awareness until his eyes landed on you.

Steve froze in place, his pink lips parting in surprise as he traced your features. His heart ached at the distance between you, both metaphorical and physical. You couldn’t help but feel the same as you got down from your stool, feet pulling you closer. 

Steve met you halfway, stopping in the middle of the room, uncaring of the questioning looks you both attracted in the process. Words were lost on the tip of your tongue, incapable of leaving your lips.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Steve spoke breathlessly, a nervous hand running through his hair. “Robin dragged me here, but I can leave if you want,” Steve offered, but you quickly found yourself shaking your head.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice small like a child who’d just been scolded. Steve nodded quickly, taking no time to think over your suggestion. He didn’t need to, all he could think about for the past few days was how badly he wanted to talk to you. The ache in his chest only grew more painful with each passing day of silence. 

With his hand grasped in yours, you led Steve out the side door to an alleyway next to The Hideout. Your hand tingled at the warmth of Steve’s palm pressed gently against yours. Reluctantly, you dropped his hand, leaning against the building as Steve’s wandering gaze studied you nervously. He wasn’t sure whether you wanted to speak first or not, but he just couldn’t hold it in any longer, succumbing to his urge to expel an explanation.

“I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that about you,” Steve spewed out, his words desperate and pleading, frown lines etched deep into his skin.

“Is that really how you feel about me? That I’m just some girl?” you asked, voice quiet and broken, stifled by the tears welling in your eyes. You couldn’t meet his gaze, embarrassed to sound so small, so reliant on his opinion of you.

“No, absolutely not,” Steve shook his head immediately, stepping closer to you. “I just- I’ve been feeling a certain way about you lately, but I didn’t want to scare you. So I downplayed it, tried to make it seem like it was nothing to that guy from high school, but it is something,” Steve confessed, scanning your face for any hint of what you were thinking. He couldn’t find what he was looking for in your avoidant stare and his shoulders deflated.

A cool summer breeze whispered in the space between your bodies, bringing a chill to your skin as you thought over Steve’s words. You could feel the way his eyes searched you, pleading for a sign, but you didn’t budge, not when you didn’t have the answer you were looking for yet.

“And how exactly have you been feeling about me lately?” you finally look up, meeting Steve’s desperate stare. His lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them as he mulled over his next words. You were giving him a shot, a chance to lay it all out on the line. Steve just had to be smart enough, brave enough, to take it.

“Like I love you,” Steve asserted with shaky hands, carefully watching you for a reaction. The breath in your lungs fled, your eyes widening a bit and then softening in sweet admiration while the corner of your lips ticked upwards ever so slightly, which only encouraged Steve to continue. “Like I want to be with you all the time, not just late at night or when neither of us can get laid. I want you to be mine and for me to be yours,” his feet carried him closer to you, his spearmint and cigarette scented breath fanning warmly across your face. “Do you want that too?” he asked, his confidence dwindling by the second, making his voice as small as yours had been earlier.

His eyes darted back and forth tracing your soft skin, your lengthy eyelashes, and your plush lips. Steve was dying for your answer, just on the brink of falling to his knees and begging, but if there was even the slightest possibility that you were to reject him then he wanted to savor this moment beforehand. The calm before the storm.

He wanted to memorize the curve of your cheeks, every beauty mark or scar expanding across your skin, the way the moonlight illuminated your face in the dark of the night. Steve decided he could wait forever for you to speak your next syllable as long as he got to stay in this moment and simply be with you. But despite his desire to freeze time, your mouth opened, effectively sealing Steve’s potential fate with you.

“Yes,” your answer came out breathlessly like you had just finished running a marathon, and based on how fast your heart was pounding in your chest, you might as well have. Steve exhaled in a smile, his tongue wetting his lips once more. He wanted nothing more than to caress your supple skin and kiss you. So he did.

Steve wrapped you in his arms, pulling you flush against him, and searched your face for reassurance. When he found what he was looking for, Steve dived in, pressing his lips to yours. It was far from the first time you’d kissed, but something felt different this time. It was years of buried feelings finally clawing their way to the surface and announcing that they were here to stay. You pulled away with a smile and your forehead pressed to his.

“You know,” Steve spoke, words just above a whisper as he attempted to catch his breath. “Now that I think about it, there’s no way we coincidentally ended up in the same place at the same time,” he finished, arching a brow at you, hoping you’d understand what he was implying.

“Eddie and Robin definitely set this up,” you caught on to his train of thought.

“Definitely,” Steve agreed. He should be mad, he really should be. His friends had no right to meddle in his love life like this. But how could he be upset when he had you cradled in his arms and your chapstick smeared across his lips?

“I hate them,” you voiced, clearly unserious in your statement.

“I don’t,” Steve peered down at you, catching the reflection of the crescent moon in your eyes. “They brought me back to you,” he shrugged with a smile and you couldn't help but mirror him before closing the space between you with another kiss.

After a few more shared smiles and soft kisses, you and Steve decided to go back into the bar. It was just as empty as it had been before, further proving to you that Eddie lied in order to get you and Steve together. Steve’s hand was clasped around yours as you walked further in, spotting Eddie and Robin sitting across from one another in a booth.

“Follow my lead,” you whispered as the pair finally saw the two of you approaching. Wide smiles stretched their lips at the sight of you hand in hand. 

“So Eddie, when’s this band coming on?” you asked, coming to a stop at the end of the booth. Eddie’s eyes widened at your question, having expected you to forget about how he got you to The Hideout under false pretenses, especially given the fact that you’d made up with Steve.

“There, uh, isn’t one for tonight,” Eddie stuttered, looking like a deer in headlights at the arch of your brow.

“Oh,” you did your best to look taken aback like this wasn’t the answer you had expected. “So you lied?” you questioned, your tone expressing more confusion rather than anger, which only made Eddie more nervous. His mouth hung agape while Steve and Robin stifled their giggles and smirks.

“How about I get everyone a drink?” Eddie stood up quickly, looking for an escape. “Steve? Wanna help?” Eddie backed away from you and headed towards the bar. Steve released his hand from yours, shaking his head with a smile as he followed behind.

You slid into Eddie’s vacated seat, across from Robin. She still had a smirk etched into her face when your gazes met.

“Don't think you’re off the hook too,” you stated and her smirk fell almost comically. Your gaze drifted from her to the bar, landing on Steve. He was already facing you with a warm smile.

“I love you,” he mouthed to you, and you felt your breath catch again. It was something you’d have to get used to. After so long of denying your feelings and the insistence to stay casual, it would be a big change. But it was a change you were more than happy to accommodate.

“I love you too,” you mouthed back, and you really did mean it.

[prettyboyeddiemunson]

we all know eddie eats pussy like a starving man, but what about steve?

steve, who hasn’t eaten you out all week long, just diving right in and devouring you

steve, who was thinking of eating you out all day at work, finally doing it and fucking his hand because he’s so desperate

steve, who always got off to the thought of eating your pussy, finally doing it for the first time and going into an absolute frenzy

steve, who loves eating pussy so much that he constantly eats it as though it’s his last meal

[strangerxperv]

Bunny hybrid Eddie x human reader x (golden retriever) werewolf Steve

( @werecreature-addicted inspired me to think outside the box for bunny hybrids)

I have some thots

Hybrids and Werewolves Oh My

Warnings:

Breeding, Steddie, ruined orgasms, possessive Steve, monster fuckery, scenting, Dom/ Sub, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT/NSFW

Everyone assumes that rabbit hybrid people are all submissive. They liked to be railed into the dirt by big strong beasts. Some do like that and you've definitely seen Eddie drooling while Steve fucks his ass.

Steve is a werewolf with the personality of a golden retriever, he's the top dog, so to speak. He's the alpha in your tiny three person pack. And you are the sweet little human woman the duo love to breed.

Which is one of the only things the boyfriends agree on when it comes to you. Eddie is a mean dom that enjoys making you cry. Whereas Steve thinks you need to be spoiled and doted on.

Eddie always fucks you first and it always takes multiple rounds for him to be finished. His calloused hands grip just under your knees where he leans. Pushing your knees into your bouncing tits and forcing your legs to stay open. His massive full balls slap onto your ass without mercy. Rabbit hybrid's are made to cum fast and keep fucking to ensure a successful breeding. Finally, once Eddie has his fill of you (or rather once you're full of him) it's Steve's turn.

Steve has to fuck you last because he always finishes with knotting you. Werewolves have stamina that can take multiple rounds to finish. But there is always a thirty minute refractory period. A knott keeps him tied to you and the cum stuffed deep.

Both men are breeders and they don't care who succeeds.

The goal is for you to become round with child and tits dripping milk.

That's not to say they aren't possessive!

Steve in particular has an intense jealousy streak that goes for both his partners. Most monsters or nonhumans can scent the three of you on each other. There are some that don't care and try to shoot their shot.

It drives Steve mad and Eddie lives for it...so long as they aren't hitting on you or Steve. If they flirt with him? Eddie will flirt back just to rile Steve up so he can get fucked hard. (Werecreature addicted is def right about bunny hybrids being brats).

Sometimes Steve will actually punish Eddie and he has you help him.

The last time Steve punished Eddie-!!! 😩🤤

Steve had you giving Eddie blowjobs and just as he starts to cum you pull off, ruining it. The original idea was for you to fuck him but you couldn't be trusted to stop. So instead Steve is knott deep in Eddie and he is balls deep down your throat.

The best part is Eddie a rabbit hybrid can keep fucking and you don't have to stop after he's cum. His cock jumping in the air as cum splashes across your tits and face. The rest of his orgasm drools down his large throbbing cock. It drips down his spasming balls to join the puddle beneath him.

Steve leaves deep bite marks on Eddie's pretty slender throat. The shapes of sharp canines pierced to leave bloody trails. Hickies on his strong shoulders that will make people ask questions. And amongst those marks are smaller ones, with blunt teeth.

But of course this didn't actually teach Eddie anything.

[moremaybank]

SOMETHING STUPID — s.h

pairing steve harrington x fem!reader

summary steve's overwhelmed by the love he feels for you and blurts out a question he can't take back. he's sure you'll think he's crazy, but do you?

warnings language, but it's basically just a whole lotta fluff and steve being the cute cutie he is

author's note did i pull inspo from haley’s dad’s speech in oth?? hell yes. also, i'm really happy with how this turned out, not gonna lie. please read if you have the chance, it'll make my day ♡︎

steve masterlist

When Steve steps through the door after work with an exhausted sigh, he’s pleasantly surprised. He’s spent his entire life coming home to an empty house, always filled with a blaring silence that acted as a daunting reminder of how lonely he felt deep down inside. There was never anyone around to ask him how his day was. What was going on in his life, or if he was happy — and not the phoney kind. 

He’s so used to weathering the storm on his own, day in and day out, that he’s completely forgotten someone will be there for him this time. The previously empty home is now occupied by you and your bright, loving energy. The quiet was replaced with your music bouncing off the walls. You’re active in the mostly untouched kitchen, baking to your heart’s content and constantly stuffing your Stevie’s face full of sweets. 

Steve finally feels as if he truly has a home, and not just a place where he stores his belongings and rests his head at night. 

He makes his way through the halls, finally reaching the entryway to the kitchen and leaning against the doorframe. The dimmed lights glow throughout the room, and the artfully scattered candles burn brightly in the darkened space. Further adding to the already homey atmosphere, the sweet aroma of fresh baked goods fills the air, thanks to the chocolate chip cookies you have baking in the oven. Even with all of this going on, though, Steve can only seem to focus on one thing. 

You. 

Your frilled socks glide against the kitchen floor as you jump and twirl around on the tiles. The sound of Say You Love Me by Fleetwood Mac quells the silence, your record player turned up the highest it can go (because, in your professional opinion, there was no other way to listen to music). You pull out your signature dance moves, screwing your eyes shut and kicking your legs in the air so many times that Steve fears you’re in an imaginary fight with someone — and losing. Terribly. He also takes notice of the spatula in your hand, acting as a stand-in microphone while you lip-sync along to the lyrics. 

You’re a goofball, through and through. Still, though, Steve is utterly smitten.

“Sweet moves, baby,” he says, loud enough to be heard over the music. 

Your eyes go wide as your body stills, completely mortified that Steve has caught you in your own little world. You turn the music down, swiping the stray hairs away from your slightly sticky forehead and clearing your throat. 

“Steve! H-hey. I was just, uh…cleaning the floors. You know, makin’ them all nice and shiny for you,” you laugh uneasily. It’s complete crap and you both know it, but you’re desperate. Frankly, you’ll say anything if it means distracting Steve from this whole performing your own world tour in the middle of the kitchen thing. 

Steve cocks a brow, tongue poking his cheek as he tries to hide the grin that threatens to come into view. “Hm,” he hums, “cleaning the floors, huh?”

“Yup.”

“…With your socks?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, still slightly breathless, “It’s a…great way to incorporate exercise into daily household chores.”

Steve tries to stop it, but he can’t help but let a laugh escape from his lips. He walks over to you, arms wide open and ready to encircle around you. “C’mere, you goof. Gimme some sugar.”

You break out into a grin, happily stepping into your boyfriend’s embrace and giving him a tight hug. You feel his hands smooth down your back before wrapping around your waist and holding you tighter to him. After a moment, you pull away, and your hands come up to his face so you can press your lips to his. He hums into the kiss contently, melting into the touch he’s been longing all day for. 

“Missed you so much,” Steve pouts, his bottom lip jutting out adorably. 

“I missed you too,” you reply, granting him another kiss. “How was your day?”

Before Steve can answer, Say You Love Me comes to a stop, and the soft sounds of Landslide begin to bleed into the silence. Choosing to let you enjoy your favourite song, Steve shrugs it off, “We can talk about that later, wanna dance with you.”

Steve extends his hand toward you, silently asking for you to join your hand in his. You smile, sliding your palm into his and letting him pull you to his chest. He keeps his other hand on the small of your back, and your free arm curls around his shoulder as the two of you begin to sway together in time with the music. Steve feels you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and relax further into his hold, and he lets the voice of Stevie Nicks wrap around you both like a warm blanket as he holds you. 

The two of you sway back and forth, taking a peaceful moment to feel your hearts beat against one another. Steve never wants to let go. This is the closest and most intimate he’s ever felt with anyone, and that should scare him, he thinks. But it doesn’t, because being with you feels like heaven on earth. He can’t believe that he’s found someone who makes his heart soar the way you do. Who makes him smile so hard his cheeks hurt, and gives him a love so deep and true that it’s become a vital part of him. Just thinking of you makes his knees weak.

He’s completely enamoured by you.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, breaking him free from his thoughts as you pull away from his grasp slightly. 

Steve looks down at you, remaining silent, and his gaze flashes over your features. The kind eyes he feels he’s always known. The tiny scar near your temple from where you’d gotten stitches as a child. The curve of your lips and how he swears he can feel them gliding over his own every single time he thinks about them. He then moved onto the oversized t-shirt your body is clad in — one you’d obviously stolen out of his closet, and the pair of boxers hanging from your hips (also swiped from his wardrobe). Your aforementioned frilly socks pulled your signature at-home look together, one that brought an incredible amount of comfort to Steve. It shows him that you consider his home to be your home too. That you’ve found a home in him, just as he has with you.

He can see himself doing this whole life thing with you forever, and he can’t explain it, but he suddenly feels compelled to speak up, and the words tumble from his lips before he can stop them. 

“Do you wanna get married?” 

Your head shoots up, and you peer up at him with a look of shock. “I’m sorry, w-what?”

Steve’s eyes threaten to bulge out of their sockets, and his heart rate skyrockets as the panic waves through him. “Oh god, I- I said that out loud,” he says, slowly letting go of you and running a hand through his long chestnut locks. “Wow. Uh— Okay.”

“Did— Did you just ask me to marry you?” You stammer, quiet as a mouse. You don’t move. Steve doesn’t think you can. 

It’s obvious that you think he’s gone certifiably insane. His hands raise in defence, and he manages to start blurting out everything he can in an attempt to rectify the situation. “Listen, baby, we can totally act like that never happened—”

“Steve—”

“—In fact, it didn’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about, babe. No freakin’ idea—”

Finally, your hand cups over his mouth to stop him from rambling any further. His last few words sound muffled before they eventually come to a stop once he realizes what’s happening. His fingers curl around your wrist, moving your hand from his lips before giving you a small, sheepish smile. His cheeks flush profusely, “Sorry.” 

Oh, the things Steve would do if it meant he could take back the last few minutes of his life and go back to before he opened his big mouth and ruined everything. It’s not that he doesn’t want to marry you. That’s definitely not the case. But the regret he’s currently feeling after watching your horrified reaction play out…it’s enough to make him want to jump into his pool and never come back up for air. 

But then…when your eyes seem to light up and a small smile curves your lips upward, he thinks there just might be some hope left for him. 

“You wanna marry me?” You questioned, your hands finding solace on his lower arms. “Why?”

His brows pull together in confusion? Why? He can see the doubt eating away at you by how small you’ve become in the past few seconds. Are you truly doubting how much you mean to him? How much you’ve spun his world on its axis and changed him forever? 

“I— What?” 

“Why would you want me to marry you?”

“Yeah, I got that, I just…are you serious?” You nod, giving him the slightest shrug. Your shyness is peaking through far too much for you to offer him any more of a reaction. 

A soft and gentle laugh slips past his lips and his body relaxes. His warm palm smoothes up your arm and finds its resting place at the base of your jaw. His thumb swipes over your skin, and his warmth bleeds through your flesh. All the love he holds in his heart for you floats up to his eyes, and his chocolate orbs soften. He’s never felt so tender and full of affection as he does now. 

“You have no idea how special you are to me, do you?” 

He says it with such conviction that you know the words are true to his heart. Still, the way they hit you is all too much, and you can’t help but deflect them with a tiny joke. Your eyes fall away from his. “I mean, I figured you liked me a little.” 

“Stop,” he chides, albeit gently. He guides your gaze back onto his. “I’m serious.” 

It’s your turn to apologize as your cheeks heat up. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Just, hear me out.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

His left hand mirrors the hold his right one has on your face. The ring you gifted him for your first anniversary is cold against your skin. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and he takes a breath before speaking. “You— You’re staggering, honey. You’ve given my heart a home. You’ve had it since the moment I met you, and you’ve kept it safe. Cherished it and nurtured it. You’ve given me everything I’ve ever wanted. I— I look into your eyes and it's like I can see the rest of my life inside ‘em.” 

Your heart melts, and you feel the tears start to pool in the brims of your eyes. “Steve,” you whisper. 

“I have no idea what’s going to happen in the future. Not a freakin’ clue, especially with all the supernatural shit that goes on in this town. But I do know that you’re supposed to be in it. You are my future, baby. I might not know a lot, but I do know this. You are the girl I’m going to spend my life loving. And I’m gonna give you everything if you’ll let me.”

His heartfelt words are almost enough to make you forget about your doubts. You want them to. But you can’t seem to quiet the worries circling inside your head. 

“Steve, I love you. You know I do. But, aren’t we too young? I don’t want to risk losing you. I don’t think I could take it if I did.” 

His hands slide down your neck and land on your shoulders. His warmth spreads through you again, and already, you feel better. It’s almost as if all he has to do is exist to wash your fears away. 

“I know. I know we’re young. But, so what if we are? To me, that just means I get to be with you even longer.” One hand abandons your shoulder, and he hooks his index finger under your chin. The pad of his thumb strokes over the tip of your chin. Eyes boring into your soul, he holds them captive. “You can drive at sixteen, drink at twenty-one, retire in your sixties. How old do you have to be to know that your love will last? ‘Cause I know my answer, down to the second.” 

You can’t seem to hide the smile that forces its way onto your lips. The sincerity in his gaze, the vulnerability he’s shown you since day one, it’s all too much. You can’t imagine ever walking away from him, can’t imagine what your life would be like if he wasn’t in it. Mornings you shared where he’d pout as soon as you mentioned getting out of bed. Picnics on warm summer days. Hearing him sing along to the radio in the car. You want those memories and every single one that would come to you in the future — your future with him. 

“Ask me again.” 

“Yeah?” He smiled. 

“Yeah,” you confirmed. But just as he’s about to do as you asked, half of the words leaving his mouth, you can’t contain the excitement. Your lips slam onto his as you pull him closer. You murmur a few yesses against his lips and feel them spread into a grin. Soon, his arms are wrapped around your waist and he’s lifting you up and into the air, spinning you around with joy. The kitchen is soon filled with giggles, and Steve is exclaiming your news loudly, even though you’re both alone.

“We’re getting married, sweetheart!”

STEVE TAG LIST (JOIN HERE): @oncasette @taintedxkisses @findapenny @bmo-bri @hemogloban @slytherhoes @shawnspoems @vigilanteshitposting @poppet05 @earth2starkey @aerangi @cantstoptherecs @sarah5462 @slut4drudy @cilliansangel @darleneslane @sya-skies @gillybear17 @lovelyxtom @rcbuttercup @redhead1180 @runningfrom2am @thejuleshypothesis @scarlettocean @subconsciouscollapse @violetmacher @iluvteyqmm @buckyisveryhot

[keerysfreckles]

falling in — steve harrington

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when a burnt down mall sends y/n to steve

warnings: use of y/n and she/her pronouns, steve got his ass beat (who's surprised), s3 spoilers duh, pure fluff/comfort, blood and injuries mentioned, pretty detailed makeout session

a/n: for my wife @keerysbrowneyes ily

masterlist !

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱

y/n sat nervously at the edge of her couch in her small living room. she watched her small flickering tv at the other end of the room with nothing but worry.

helicopters roaring, a blazing fire and multiple reporters surround the loved starcourt mall. y/n's heart almost burst out of her chest when one reporter stated most people made it out safely.

steve harrington was the first person to flood her mind. the girl hasn't heard of him for the past three days, which only made her nerves skyrocket.

"sources say scoops ahoy workers were at the scene, with multiple young kids and parents. . ."

y/n was out the door, struggling to put on her other shoe while running to her car.

—

y/n didn't even let the car come to a complete stop before she was running past concerned townspeople, reporters and cops. she easily slid under the caution tape and fit in between two firetrucks, not bothering to listen to the cops and other authorities yelling for her to stop.

y/n looked from left to right. she first saw nancy and jonathan, and robin sitting in the back of one ambulance. will was with his mother, with el and mike besides them. lucas was comforting max. she looked at the last ambulance and saw steve.

as soon as their eyes met, time slowed. steve dropped the blanket from his shoulders and y/n's worn out converse hit the asphalt again.

steve stood from the ambulance, and for the first time tonight a smile broke out onto his face. he didn't care it was hurting his eye.

his arms are wide open once y/n reaches him. hers instantly wrap around his shoulders as he lifts her off the ground.

"you're okay," y/n lets the tears fall from her eyes, her voice is strained. "you're here, you're really okay."

steve kisses the side of her head before setting her back on the ground, however neither of them let go of each other.

"i thought i lost you," y/n admits.

steve chuckles, "you could never get rid of me that easily."

y/n leans back, her eyes roaming over the boy in front of her. she sees the large bruise surrounding his swollen eye, and the tiny cuts on his lips.

steve copies her actions, not believing the girl in his arms is really here. this feels too much like a dream that he didn't want to wake up from.

y/n puts her hand gently on steve's cheek just as a tear falls from his right eye. his voice is soft and broken, "can you take me home?"

y/n nods immediately, and carefully takes his hand in hers to lead them both to her car. they're stopped briefly by a cop, to which they explain y/n would be taking steve home.

they sit in the car for a moment, while an abba song plays quietly over the radio. y/n leans forward to turn it off. she didn't think steve was in the mood to dance to anything, let alone listen to a happy pop song.

"are you okay?" y/n knew it was a stupid question to ask, but she had to ask anyway.

steve only nods, as he wipes his cheeks as more tears fall. y/n simply gives him her hand. his rough hand holds onto it the whole drive back to y/n's small one bed-one bath house.

"wait, i thought you were taking me home," steve announces once he watches her turn down the wrong street.

"you really think i'd let you stay home alone after whatever you went through?"

steve shrugs.

"how hard did they hit you?" y/n lets out an airy laugh, which steve reciprocates.

y/n looks over to the passenger side after parking on the street in front of her dark red door.

"thank you," steve's voice fills the silence of the car.

the two walk out of the and in the housr wordlessly. they both leave their shoes in a pile by the front door, and steve follows y/n to her room. he sees she left the tv and lights on, guessing she left in a hurry.

"you take a shower okay? then if you want i can help with the other cuts."

steve gratefully accepts y/n's offer. he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding once he sits on the edge of y/n's bed. she comes out of the bathroom after starting the shower, and making sure it wasn't too hot.

steve holds his arms open again, making y/n walk towards him. she stands between his thighs as he rests his head against her chest, hearing the pulse of her heartbeat. the girl leans down to place a kiss on his matted curls.

"i'll be here when you get out," y/n whispers into his hair.

as steve showers, he's careful when he reaches and cuts or bruises, and can't help but let more tears fall. by the end of it he couldn't tell if it was tears or water running down his face.

he's quick to dry off and doesn't mind the water falling back onto his face and neck from his wet hair.

he noticed his dried bloody work uniform was replaced by a pair of sweatpants, a tshirt and boxers. he smiled at the thought of y/n keeping a pair of his clothes here for him.

steve leaves the bathroom and is met with y/n coming back into her room with a small basket in her hands.

"hey," she smiles towards steve, "how are you feeling?"

"that was a must needed shower," he chuckles.

"what's that for?" he points to the wooven basket now placed on the bed.

"a couple things to help with your cuts."

after steve came over to y/n's house their junior year, with the aftermath of a fight with jonathan byers, the girl knew to keep a first aid kit just for steve.

y/n instructs for steve to lay on her bed. he gladly let a loud sigh leaves his lips once his back hits the mattress, making y/n chuckle.

she sits on the left side of steve, making her be in the middle of the bed. she easily leans over him to turn on the lamp placed on the night stand. steve can't help but blush at the close proximity.

"these are just wipes, to get any extra dried blood off," y/n starts walking him through the steps.

she's careful when wiping around the cuts on his lips, and is surprised he only winces once.

she moves to his hairline and bruise covering his eye. the swelling has gone down drastically, and she can now look at both of his beautiful brown eyes.

steve keeps his hands folded on his stomach while y/n takes care of him. she goes to the next step and takes peroxide and cotton balls to the cuts.

after the cotton meets his lips he grabs y/n's wrist. she mutters out many apologies, not meaning to hurt steve more.

"it's okay," he stops her rambling apologies, "just hurts way more than i thought it would."

y/n continues treating his wounds. every so often steve's eyes would float to her features. to her concerned eyes, crinkling at the corners. or to her hair that kept falling over her ear, to which she always put back, yet it never stayed.

y/n finally takes a warm towel, steve guessed was from the dryer, and she dabbed it over his lips and eye. she watched his shoulders relax as she held it over his eye.

"are you alright?" she felt like she asked the question a million times tonight.

steve nods, "never better."

another comfortable silence fills the room. steve now sits up, making y/n bring the towel to her lap. steve breaks the silence.

"did you always have that freckle?" his thumb traces the light freckle on her cheek. she blushes from the contact. before she answers, steve moves his hand to fix the strands of hair that have fallen in front of her ear. his hand goes back to holding her cheek.

y/n's eyes move between both of steve's brown ones.

"steve," y/n warns in a whisper as he starts moving closer to her.

"i want you y/n. thats the one thing i've never been more sure of tonight."

his soft words leave a tickling breath over y/n's lips.

y/n makes the move to lean forward. her right hand reaches to hold onto steve's bicep as her lips collide with his. the kiss only lasts for a few seconds before y/n pulls away. her cheeks are flushed as she sees steve's widened pupils.

steve simply pulls her back to him with the hand that was still on her cheek. he turns his head to deepen the kiss, and he can't help but smile against y/n's lips after feeling her hand move to his neck. she grips the damp hair, threading her fingers through it.

steve's left hand goes to y/n's lower back as he moves her to lay down. he's now hovering over her, with his thighs falling between hers.

the two pull away, both with blown pupils, flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

"do you want me to stay–"

"yes."

steve couldn't even finish his question before y/n answers quickly and pulls him down tp kiss him again, with much more hunger than before.