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mrsjellymunson · 5 months ago

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KNOCK AT THE CABIN | Part Two

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Written for @bettyfrommars, @allthingsjoeq and @somnambulic-thing ’s excellent Stranger Prompts challenge - thank you for this, friends!

Series Summary: After the events of the previous months, everyone is shocked by the unexpected return of an old friend. But how much has he changed?

Chapter summary: Some answers, more questions 😉

WC: ~8.5k

C/W: 18+, MDNI, NSFW, series CW for eventual Eddie Munson x fem!reader smut, post-S4, Upside Down exists, dark/supernatural themes, emotional scenes, eventual friends-to-lovers, descriptions of minor injuries, food/eating, mentions of canon-typical torture/experiments.

A/N: This series contains a lot of themes and scenarios that I haven’t written for before, I’d love to know what you think! Please comment and reblog, it means the world to writers, and reblogs mean work gets seen. Abundant thanks to @the-unforgivenn for beta-ing and playing The Thesaurus Game 😛 This series has a taglist so if you’d like to be on either it or my general one just lemme know in a comment, ask or message, I’d love to have you on board 🙏💙

Prev: Prologue Part One

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You wake earlier than they do, shards of sunlight peeking through Steve’s pathetically thin and badly arranged curtains hitting you straight in the face.

You don’t move initially, enjoying the sound of both boys’ soft, rhythmic breaths, grateful they’ve both had the opportunity to rest and sleep.

You use this moment of stillness to allow the events of the previous night to filter through your consciousness. Eddie’s still here. He’s somewhat warmer than he was, and is still breathing. You’ll take all of those as a win.

His arm is still wrapped around your ribs, his chest against your back. During the night, one of his thighs has made its way between yours, and his hips are now pressed up against the swell of your ass.

You suppose that if you look at it objectively, he’s in a pretty good approximation of the Recovery Position. Good for him. Promoting healing, aiding recovery, and all that.

And you suppose that if you look at it subjectively, having the entire length of Eddie’s body squashed against the entire length of yours, and having his leg pressed against you just there, stirs feelings that are inappropriate for you to be having right now. Such as how much you’re enjoying it. How safe you feel. How much you wish there weren’t even these small, thin pieces of fabric separating you from him…

He snuffles behind you, groaning softly, and his arm contracts, pulling you even closer to him. You’d much prefer it was more than just the involuntary tensing of a waking man that’s causing him to do this, but push that thought to the back of your mind.

You slowly turn your head as far as you can, only able to see a little of him out of the corner of your eye. His hair is fuzzy as hell, but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

In what you hope is a soft and comforting voice, you ask,

“Morning, big guy. How’re you feeling?”

Eddie’s voice is cracked and broken, like he hasn’t used it in a while. It’s gravelly and low as he mumbles,

“Mmf. A little sore, but warm. God, it feels so good to be warm…”

His arm clenches around you again, and he pushes his face into the back of your neck.

Trying to cover an unbidden moan, and inject some levity, you reply,

“Well, thank goodness for that, otherwise all of mine and Steve’s efforts last night would’ve been for nothing.”

Eddie shifts, starting to get a sense of where he is and the situation he’s found himself in. It causes Steve to stir behind him and let out a little groan of his own, and you feel Eddie freeze.

Trying to calm him and keep this obviously bizarre situation simple and light, you mumble,

“Yeah, body heat seemed to be the best way to keep you warm. I don’t suppose waking up naked between me and Harrington was on your bucket list, right?”

Eddie’s cheeks don’t exactly flush (going from pale grey to pale pink far too much of a gradient to be entirely achievable right now), but you do notice a little warmth appear in them.

Eddie jests, at least you think he’s jesting, as his grip around you tightens again, stronger this time as his muscles wake up, and he chuckles lightly as he smooshes his face into your hair,

“Well, it's definitely not the worst place I’ve ever woken up.”

This rouses Steve enough that he’s now fully awake, and he seems to remember where he is too. He moves away from Eddie and sits up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Glancing over, he mumbles,

“Hey, man. So, there’s literally hundreds of things I wanna ask you right now, but I guess I’ll start with, uh, how are you?”

Steve’s face contorts with a mix of incredulity and embarrassment at the utter banality of the question he just asked.

Unfazed, Eddie replies,

“Honestly, dude? I’m not entirely sure…”

He tries to shift his legs to sit up, but realises how enmeshed they are with yours, and inadvertently pushes his thigh up even closer to you.

Steve continues, unable to stop himself.

“What happened? Where have you been? How did you even get here?”

Eddie lets out a long, low exhale.

Finally picking up on how tired Eddie still is, and how tangled your and Eddie’s limbs are, you guess Steve decides he doesn’t want to get into any of that right now and declares,

“Y’know what, I’m gonna go make coffee.”

He grabs some sweats and a crumpled tee, and heads out towards the kitchen, leaving you and Eddie alone.

Fuck, this is awkward.

After a short pause, you mumble,

“Yeah, I suppose we should get up too. The kids are gonna be beside themselves, I’d prepare yourself for a barrage of questions if I were you.”

Exhaling, you somewhat reluctantly extricate yourself from Eddie’s embrace, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching for the pile of clothes you’re grateful you had the foresight to put out last night.

Pulling on jeans, a worn t-shirt and a woollen jumper, you sit back down and turn to Eddie, who’s now leaning up against Steve’s battered headboard, sheets bunched around his waist.

You notice his eyes are still sunken and red-rimmed, but he’s lost some of the sallowness that he had last night, and his features are significantly more relaxed.

As he sits up you have the chance to observe his torso properly. He’s thinner, and much paler, than the boy you remember. The odd appearance of his musculature that you could see last night is still abundantly present.

And there are scars. Lots of scars. They vary in appearance and colour, rough slashes and violent starbursts, in silvery white, muted pinks and shades of angry purples and reds. Some look smooth and well-healed, whilst others are raised and jagged. Some transect the inked designs you came to know so well, and it looks like he might’ve lost a nipple.

Realising you’ve been staring, you tear your eyes away and move them instead to Eddie’s face. He looks terrified, like he’s worried you’re going to find him abhorrent and run away screaming.

He starts to reach for the covers, to cover himself, but you lunge forwards and grab one of his hands in yours. You don’t break his gaze as you tell him,

“It’s okay, Eddie. You don’t have to hide yourself from me.”

His face softens, but his eyebrows remain pinched and his lips are still pressed tightly together.

Finally looking down as you stroke over his hand with both of yours, you notice that the wounds that you bathed and tended to only a few hours ago are practically healed, only a few areas of redness remaining where there were bleeding gashes and scarlet grazes. Some have almost disappeared.

You decide not to focus on this and concentrate instead on the fact that your friend, your best friend, the one you all thought was dead, is back with you here, right now.

Grasping his hand in both of yours, you murmur,

“However it happened, it’s really, really good to have you back, you know.”

He smiles then, and although it reaches his eyes, it does little to lift the grey pallor of his face.

He brings his other hand over, and as he rubs his thumbs over your knuckles he notices the ring on your thumb. He runs a pad over the contours of the skull.

“You- You kept this?”

“Of course! I wear it every day. It helps me remember my best friend.” Your voice gets quiet as you add, unsure whether you’re overstepping.

“It helps keep you close to me.”

You hold each other's gaze for a beat too long, and Eddie’s lips open as if he’s going to say something.

Before he has the chance, a ball of anxiety rises in your throat, and you decide you can’t take the risk of him… what?

Telling you you’re stupid? That it doesn’t mean anything? That he wants his ring back?

You know none of this sounds like anything Eddie would say, but in your fragile, exhausted state you need to protect yourself from the risk of emotional harm, no matter how small.

You remove your hand from his and bend to retrieve the clothes Steve left for him, reasoning with a small smile,

“We don’t want you getting cold again, right?”

Eddie starts to dress, grunting a little as his limbs start working again. He only has time to pull on the worn sweatshirt when the door bursts open and the kids rush in. Dustin first, swiftly followed by Mike and Lucas, whilst Will and Jane hang back in the doorway.

The three teens leap, grinning, onto Steve’s bed, whooping and hollering and rolling around. They’re full of questions and theories and tales of what they’ve been doing whilst he’s been gone, all talking over one another.

Whilst Eddie is smiling and laughing and you can tell he’s buoyed by their love and exuberance, you also know he still needs to recover from last night, let alone whatever else he might have been through these past few weeks. So after a few minutes you shoo them out, instructing them to go help Steve make breakfast.

Dustin’s the last to leave, pausing in the doorway as he turns back, running his hand down his cheek and saying, with an infinitely adoring expression on his face,

“I can’t believe you’re here, man. It’s so good to have you back.”

They share friendly smiles before Dustin turns on his heel and follows the others, his voice decreasing in volume as he heads down the hallway yelling,

“I’m on toast duty today! You guys ate all the good peanut butter last time…”

You both snicker at their antics, Eddie shaking his head a little.

You want to say more, but settle for,

“They missed you. We all did.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows and rolls his lips inwards into a tight-lipped smile, and you sense that he’s just as emotional as you all are.

He continues dressing, and you’re relieved the kids didn’t see Eddie’s scars, for all their sakes. You’re not sure whether they’re ready to revisit what happened in the Upside Down, and you don't want Eddie’s first day back with you all to involve him having to uncomfortably explain where they all came from.

He dons the rest of the unfamiliar clothing, and eventually stands, facing you. He spreads his arms wide and pulls a goofy face, raising his eyebrows high and flattening his mouth into a thin line, knowing how unlike ‘him’ he must look right now.

You never imagined you’d ever see your favourite black-loving metalhead in an oversized heather grey Hawkins Athletic sweatshirt, worn navy sweatpants and fluffy white sports socks, but needs must, and at least it’s all clean and he’s staying warm.

There’s a crash in the kitchen, startling both of you, but it prompts you to suggest,

“Come on, let’s go see what chaos those guys are causing.”

You direct him to the front of the house, and as Eddie shuffles into the kitchen all eyes turn to him. You see the kids take in his fluffy hair and new garb. He notices and, preemptively gesturing to himself and in a very close approximation of his Dungeon Master voice, says,

“If anyone says anything about this, I swear I will kill you. Got it?”

Mike and Lucas try to act like they weren’t even looking, and Dustin raises his hands in supplication. Jane laughs at the boys’ responses and Will smirks at the shenanigans, and you’re certain he and Eddie are going to get along just fine.

The kids have made everyone a simple breakfast of boiled eggs, toast and fresh oatmeal and they bring it to the large farmhouse-style table as everyone gets situated. Craving his proximity, you take the chair next to Eddie. Steve’s made a large pot of hot coffee, which is swiftly devoured by the four adults and almost instantly requires replenishment.

The kids want to fill Eddie in on, well, everything. Over breakfast there’s much chatter about what’s been happening in town, how the three of you ended up staying here, how kind and supportive Wayne and Owens have been, even a somewhat discombobulating discussion of what Eddie’s funeral was like. Plus there’s tales from the boys about D&D and stuff that’s important to the teens, most of which you zone out of.

Eddie is also properly introduced to the two he doesn’t know. He greets Will with a broad smile and claps both his hands around the boy’s slender one, a symbolic gesture full of characteristic Eddie warmth, welcoming another sheep even though this particular one has known the others for many years.

You don’t think anyone else notices, but you don’t miss the moment of extended eye contact and tiny nods that are exchanged between him and Jane, as they are introduced and shake hands.

Eddie seems to have a good appetite, devouring four warm, runny-yolked eggs, three slices of toast slathered with butter and jelly, and two large bowls of oatmeal with honey and syrup in rapid succession.

There’s some syrup on his chin when he’s finished. You want to clean it off with your thumb and suck it into your mouth, but you resist the urge.

The food cheers him, even seems to put a little colour in Eddie’s cheeks. Well, perhaps not colour exactly, but a move from grey to white is certainly progress. It’s hardly Cordon Bleu cuisine, but Eddie’s hoovered it up like it’s the best meal he’s ever had. You wonder what he’s been surviving on all this time to make such simple stuff seem so luxurious.

Coffee mugs are refreshed, the table is cleared, and there follows a semi-formal exchange of the personal items of Eddie’s that are in the cabin. Lucas returns his pocket knife, which Eddie thanks him for with a bro handshake and a half-hug, and Dustin gets down on one knee and presents him with his wallet chain on outstretched hands, as if he’s presenting a weapon or battle trophy to his commander. Eddie ruffles his hair and brings him in for a crushing bear hug.

Robin and Steve return his crucifix and boar’s head rings, which he dons, and you can’t help noticing that they’re slightly looser than they used to be. You’re grateful nobody questions why you don’t return the skull ring to him, or seems to notice the knowing glance and small smile that he gives you.

Dishes are cleaned and yet more coffee is brewed, and you head to the utility room to see how Eddie’s clothes are doing in the (noisy, and possibly unsafe) drier. As you return there’s a lull in the conversation.

Ever the direct one, Robin can’t stand the not knowing any longer, and as Steve pours the next round of coffees she blurts,

“So, what the fuck happened? We thought you were dead. You were dead. They fucking buried you!”

The kitchen falls silent for a moment, nobody sure how much Eddie wants to divulge or relive.

He wraps his palms around his steaming mug, and takes a long, slow, deep breath in and out before he starts talking.

“I don’t remember much after that night with the, uh, Demobats. I kinda remember being jostled into a van, or a military-type vehicle maybe? And tubes, bright lights, people shouting…

“The next thing I know, I’m in some kind of lab, a poky room with a tiny cot and metal furniture, and people coming in at all hours to prod at me and stick me with needles. They did all sorts of tests and injected me with shit, and they wouldn’t tell me what any of it was.

“I’m not sure whether it’s a good or a bad thing that I can’t remember a lot of detail. It’s mostly just pain, agony, and being either chained or locked up. And screaming, so much screaming... Whether that was me or the others, I don’t know.”

You interject,

“There- There were others?”

He nods slowly.

“Yeah, definitely more than just me. I have no idea how many, who they were, what happened to them...”

His hands start trembling, and he lets go of the mug that’s started to shake in his grip, quickly putting his hands in his lap.

“I think the injections they were giving me were concoctions made from the… things they found… down there.

“Owens visited me a couple of times. He said he didn’t like what was being done to me but he wasn’t able to change anything. The last time I saw him he told me he was being transferred to a different site and didn’t think he’d be able to visit again, but he wanted me to know there was someone on his side.”

There’s a brief pause before he continues,

“The last, uhh, experiment was the worst-”

Eddie screws up his face and clenches his teeth at the memory, and balls up one fist, bringing it up to his pursed lips. He squeezes his eyes closed, and a tear appears at the corner of one eye.

You don’t know whether it’s the right thing to do, but you grab his other hand under the table, hoping it’ll give him comfort but fully expecting him to flinch away.

He doesn’t, and his hand clamps around yours in a fierce grip, almost crushing it.

Voice trembling and breaking, he continues.

“It was- Jesus H Christ- it was like liquid fucking fire. All I remember was feeling like they’d injected me with molten lava, and then there was so much shouting, and hands holding me down, and then everything went black...”

He pauses, and nobody else speaks.

Steve swallows, the tap drips into the sink and Robin’s rings clink softly against her coffee mug as she turns it anxiously.

“And then… And then the next thing I remember is coming to, and feeling cold, so- so fucking cold. And darkness, absolute darkness. And I was so scared, and I just started scraping and scratching at whatever was over me, and just kept scrabbling and digging until… there wasn’t anything over me anymore.”

You’re all stunned.

Someone says a quiet ‘fuck’, and you think you hear a sob, perhaps from Dustin.

Steve remains silent but runs a hand through his hair, palm coming to rest over his mouth, and Robin mutters a soft,

“Shit, Eddie.”

You all realise that Eddie wasn’t lying on a slab at all for these past two months, but was being experimented on, and it takes a long moment to sink in.

Eventually, Eddie says,

“Fuck. They really buried me, huh?”

To illustrate his point and as an attempt to inject some humour into the moment, he loosely combs his fingers through his fluffy locks and asks, “When I got here, did I have stuff in my hair?”

There are a few chuckles, and someone throws a balled up paper napkin at him.

There’s another short pause where nobody says anything, but then it’s like a dam breaks and everyone starts talking at once. Robin and Steve make comparisons with the Russians, the kids offer D&D analogies and half-baked scientific theories, and people ask Will and Jane what they think.

For the rest of the morning much discussion ensues, as well as the consumption of store-brand cookies and even more coffee, and you all try to fill in the blanks. Whilst some of the kids interject with ideas and suggestions, others sit quietly, mostly listening. You wonder quite how much secondhand trauma this is going to cause all of them.

As a group you eventually surmise that some shadowy branch of the military was battering Eddie and the others with all sorts of tests, and injecting them with unknown substances, goals unknown and refusing to tell anyone what they were.

Owens clearly never agreed with their approach, and it sounds like he tried to distance himself as much as possible.

The military finally took their experiments too far. Thinking they’d killed him, they eventually released Eddie’s body to his only family, Wayne, and allowed him to be buried.

Unbeknownst to them, their final experiment was the most successful, it just took longer to manifest than the others. Weeks, in fact. Just long enough for the scientists (if you could even call them that) to lose any expectation of a recovery, and for Owens and Wayne to organise a funeral.

Eddie had awoken, dazed, trapped and freezing and with no idea where he was, and had somehow managed to smash the lid of his coffin and scramble his way to the surface. On a rainy night, miles from anywhere.

Finally, Mike is the first to ask the question you think most of you have been contemplating.

“Dude, how did you even find us?”

At particularly painful points in his oration, Eddie has looked to you, seemingly finding comfort in your face, and his gaze doesn’t leave yours as he replies,

“Honestly? I don’t really know. I just had this… feeling… that I needed to come in this direction. And the closer I got, the more certain I was that this is where I’d find you.” Hurriedly, he looks around the rest of the group and adds, “Find you all.”

He carefully lays the hand not holding yours flat onto the table, and, eyes fixed on the faded floral tablecloth, he chokes back a sob as he asks a question that he’s clearly been holding back.

“Why didn’t anyone- Why didn’t you come find me?”

Robin grabs his hand across the table, wrapping it in both of hers, holding it tightly. There’s a beat of silence before she speaks.

“W-we didn’t know! They didn’t tell us anything about any lab. We thought you were dead. Eddie, that first night? They told us you’d died!”

Her voice cracks on the last word, and you see tears start to slowly run down her cheeks.

Eddie chokes, and his eyes lift to the ceiling.

Dustin’s the first to move as he scrapes his chair back and sprints around to Eddie, enveloping his shoulders and neck in a clumsy but aggressively enthusiastic hug as he mumbles into his friend’s shoulder,

“But you’re not dead. You’re not. You’re here, with us, now. You’re back, Eddie, you’re back...”

Lucas stands too, ruffling Eddie’s hair and half-hugging the top of his head with one arm, leaning his cheek against Eddie’s curls, and you lean into Eddie, placing your forehead against the side of his bicep.

Steve turns from where he’s been brewing even more coffee, and moves to place his hand on a patch of shoulder not covered by Dustin or Lucas, patting softly. As he turns back to the stove he comments,

“Yeah, man. D’you really think we wouldn’t’ve come got you? Fuck those guys and all their crappy experiments. No one does that to a member of The Party.”

You simultaneously feel Eddie’s grip on your hand tighten, and the rest of his body relax. Many of you are crying, the sleeves of Eddie’s sweater darkening in patches from the wet plops of Dustin’s tears.

Will and Jane are affected too, and you see their faces soften as they clasp each other's hands under the table.

Eddie’s breath deepens as he absorbs the love and affection of his friends. You guess he’s not used to this much positive attention, and has clearly received even less over the last few weeks.

You all sit in silence for a few long moments, allowing all this new information to sink in and emotions to settle.

Eventually the noise of the stove and the clattering of coffee supplies, together with a strong gust of wind and the increased pattering of leaves against the window, brings you all back to the room.

Eddie seems to have processed everything faster than the rest of you, his emotions shifting, and as Steve pours more coffee he becomes agitated, slamming his fists on the table, startling all of you with the ferocity of his movements.

You guess he’s angry not only at the testing he underwent, but that they lied to all of you, and let him feel hopeless, like nobody cared.

The kids move back as he stands and starts pacing, running his hands through his already-frizzy hair and shaking his head.

“FUCK! Those bastards! Not only did they use me as some kind of twisted lab rat, but they didn’t even tell you guys I was alive? And they let me think that none of you cared enough to come find me, visit me, get me out? GODDAMMIT!”

He slams a palm into the doorframe, and you all jump a little.

Turning back to the room, Eddie notices the effect he’s having on everyone, and, rubbing the back of his neck, says,

“I think I’m gonna go take a walk…”

He moves towards the back door, the expanse of the disused field behind the cabin seemingly the ideal place for him to get his head together.

But, spying the large axe leaning against the frame, he has a better idea.

“Hey, uh, do you guys have, like, logs ‘n’ shit that need chopping? I really need to, um, work through some stuff. Besides, it’s probably the least I can do, given how much heat and hot water I’ve already cost you all.”

He gives a sheepish snort and brings his hand to his face again.

It’s you who speaks first.

“Are you sure, Eddie? I mean, it’s been a stressful few days. Are you okay to be doing something so… physical?”

“Yeah, yeah… I’m feeling a little… pent up. Could do with working some of it off, y’know?”

You nod, figuring all of you are going to need different ways to process this whole bizarre and unsettling situation.

Dustin and Mike find some old tan workboots in a closet, presumably left by the previous owner. They don’t fit perfectly, and it looks like something may have nested in one of them at some point, but they’ll do for now. Eddie pulls them on over his loaned sweats and socks, leaving them unlaced.

Robin offers him his leather jacket. She’s obviously had a go at cleaning off as much of the mud as she can, but you can all tell it’s never going to be quite the same. At least it’s dry now, and Eddie takes it gratefully.

He grabs the old axe and the small hatchet that you use to chop kindling, unlocks the back door and steps outside, closing it behind him.

Dustin wants to go out to him, but Robin grabs him and holds him in a tight hug, explaining that he needs some time to process stuff.

The others give him space, some staying at the kitchen table to process their thoughts, others retreating to the living room and diverting their thoughts with the crackling cartoons that break through the terrible TV signal.

You choose to keep an eye on Eddie, staying back a little from the back door so as not to alarm him, but keeping him within your eye line.

You see Eddie pace a little, muttering to himself, then he shakes his head as if to clear it.

He turns to the log pile and hefts the axe a couple of times, getting the feel of it. He lifts a couple of modestly sized logs onto the stump, wielding the axe above his head and splitting them easily. Almost… effortlessly.

He chops a few more, flinging them into a pile with ease, then moves to lift a few larger ones, breezing through them with the same ‘hot knife through butter’ nonchalance.

It’s the most physical activity you’ve ever seen him do, aside from lifting the odd amp or two, which always left him puffed out. But he’s sailing through the woodpile with barely any exertion.

You can see he’s still processing the contents of your morning, as his features screw up occasionally and grumbled words and what are probably profanities spill from his lips.

As he hefts the axe through the tough logs you can see his eyes are getting redder, and his skin appears paler. You can’t see his body, but the tendons on his hands and neck are popping starkly underneath his translucent skin. And, the wind has picked up considerably since he’s been outside, whipping loose leaves and twigs around the cabin just like it did last night.

Eventually, he starts on the biggest, gnarliest logs. The ones you guys would only attempt when you really, really needed the firewood.

You hear grunts, muffled by the back door, as he works the tougher wood.

The axe gets stuck partway through a particularly thick log, and with an animalistic grunt Eddie yanks the blade from it. Easily lifting the log in his arms, he notches his long fingers into the groove and, in a move that startles you, he rips it into two pieces with his bare hands.

By the back door you suppress a gasp, your hand flying across your mouth and your eyes going wide. You’re not sure whether you should go to him, try to comfort him, or leave him to work through this in whatever way he needs to.

You don’t get the chance to decide, as he finally gets to a particularly old and knotty log that none of you have been able to get anywhere close to splitting. As Eddie slams the axe down into it with a ferocity you didn’t think was possible, he gets it far further than any of you have so far, but again, the blade gets stuck.

The wind picks up even more, as Eddie picks up the axe, log attached, and heaves it around his head, sending it spinning across the back field as he lets out a loud, feral and painful-sounding yell.

Breathing deep for a couple of moments, he runs a hand down his face and begins to trudge across the bumpy earth to retrieve it, coping easily with the rough and uneven ground of the ploughed field and his ill-fitting boots. You can see he’s still yelling expletives and occasionally waving his arms and shouting up into the sky.

The distance that he’s managed to throw the axe is substantial enough that he shrinks in your field of vision by the time he reaches it. You can no longer make out his expression, but as he comes to a halt you do see him bend over and place his hands on his knees, watching his back heave as he takes a few more deep, steadying breaths.

He lifts the axe and heaves both it and the attached heavy log easily over his shoulder with one hand. You consider that you’ve never seen him lift anything with such ease, save maybe his leather jacket, flung over his back, dangling it from one finger on a hot day.

As he turns and starts making his way back to the house, you notice that the wind has started to die down and is whipping less of Eddie’s hair around his face, and leaves and twigs begin to fall to the ground.

You hadn’t realised Jane had come to join you at the back door. Despite not directly knowing Eddie before, she says, in her characteristically deadpan voice, “He is… different now. Isn’t he?”

You purse your lips and nod, quick and small, and find it remarkable that this seemingly awkward young woman, who’s endured so much at the hands of so many, has developed such insight and tenderness.

After removing the axe from the gnarly chunk of wood and placing it by the back door, Eddie spends a few minutes arranging the logs he’s split into neat piles beneath the small shelter. The skin around his eyes is less red now, and his general demeanour seems more relaxed, controlled. Perhaps this has helped after all.

He takes a couple of breaths and composes himself before he heads back towards the door, holding the axe in one hand and a stack of logs atop his other arm.

Bashful, and conscious that you’d rather he didn’t know that you’ve been watching him the entire time, you take a few steps backwards and make like you’re just now coming to the door, opening it for him with a broad smile and directing him to the place in the living room where you store the wood for the fire, thanking him for his efforts.

As he places the last of the wood and starts to take off his jacket, you notice that his hands are again torn and bloody, splinters sticking out every which way and an angry-looking blister on one palm.

You assume that he’s reopened his wounds from last night, but the positions and patterns don’t match up. Everything from last night has almost completely healed, and these are all new.

Regardless of the peculiarities, they need attention, so you instruct him,

“Come with me, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You send him to your bedroom as you grab some washcloths, a bowl of warm water and the first aid kit from the bathroom.

You sit him up against your headboard, setting up your supplies on the comforter. Figuring it’s the most practical position for you to be in, you straddle his knees and begin dabbing at his cut and splintered hands with antiseptic. Realising there’s too much debris in the way, and wincing at the sheer size and quantity of them, you grab some tweezers, removing the splinters of various sizes that have embedded into his fingers and palms.

As you swap back to using the wet cloths and begin cleaning the blood from his skin, you’re perhaps less surprised than you should be to find that the new injuries have already stopped bleeding, and some of the smaller ones even appear to be closing up, apparently heading the same way as the cuts on his face and feet from whatever happened last night.

You work quietly for a few moments before your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“What was that? Outside, just now? You seem…”

“Different? Yeah, I know… Don’t ask me how it happened, but I feel different too. Stronger, faster…”

He glances at you through his bangs.

“Less in control…”

His brow is furrowed as he holds your gaze, and you guess he’s waiting for you to back off. You don’t.

“I guess they… changed me.”

You move to touch his chin gently with one hand, wanting to reassure him. You realise that by telling him this you’re going to reveal that you were watching him, but you forge ahead anyway.

“Listen, I’m not gonna pretend that whatever it is that I just saw wasn’t a little… unnerving. But I’ve never felt unsafe around you. Quite the opposite, in fact. And that hasn’t changed. I don’t think it ever will.”

He refuses to meet your gaze, and twists his battered hands together in his lap, seemingly fighting with himself.

“I should go. Leave you guys. You’re not safe with me here.”

A vice grip seizes your chest. All logic leaves you, and the only thing you can think about is never letting him go again.

“Eddie, no!”

“I don’t really know what their plan was, but I’m guessing they were trying to make me into a super soldier, or something. They’re not gonna stop. As soon as they find out what happened at the cemetery, they’re gonna try to find me. And if I could find you, they can find me.”

A ball of anxiety forms in you. You can’t let him go. You just can’t.

“I thought you were dead, we all did. I’ve only just found you again, after I thought I’d lost you forever. Please don’t say you’re going to leave?”

Your voice cracks and you swallow back a sob. You lurch forward and grip both of his hands with all the strength you have left, not caring that you’re getting his blood on you, and might even be hurting him.

If Eddie feels any pain, he doesn't flinch. But the sight of you falling to pieces in front of him, because of him, is apparently something he can’t bear.

“Okay, I won’t. I’ll stay tonight, at least. Then we’ll try to figure something out. Maybe contact Owens, see if he knows anything. Alright?”

He raises his head and looks into your eyes now, as you snuffle a little and manage a small smile. He’s yours for tonight, at least.

No, not exactly yours, you have to remind yourself. He’s safe, with all of you, for tonight, at least.

Something else decides to jostle for prominence in your mind, and you ask him, quietly,

“How did you find us? Really. How did you know where to go?”

Eddie takes a deep breath before shifting slightly, and he returns the grip on your hands.

You think you hear a little trepidation in his voice as he speaks.

“I don’t know if this is going to sound crazy, but… what doesn’t these days, right? It’s like- Even before… everything, it’s like every time I left you I left a part of my soul with you. And… it would stay with you all the time we were apart. And then whenever I was with you I’d find it again. That’s how I found you. It was like I was searching for a piece of myself, and somehow I just knew where to find it.”

He goes quiet, dropping his chin to his chest again.

His words play on a loop in your head. Even before… I left a part of my soul with you… and whenever I was with you I’d find it...

You shift forwards even more, closing the gap between you, and the movement makes you become acutely aware of your proximity. You become conscious of the feel of his firm thighs between yours, how good it feels. How, for the second time in less than twenty four hours, you wish there weren’t these thin pieces of fabric between you.

Something sparks in your chest: Could he feel the same way as you?

Your voice trembles as you practically beg him,

“I don't want you ever to leave, Eddie. I don’t want us to ever be apart, and always be there for each other. I don’t want you to ever be missing a part of your soul again. I want to be with you, always.”

Eddie huffs out a sob of his own, lifting your hands to his and nuzzling his face into your knuckles. He takes one and slowly turns his head until his round nose connects with your curled fingers. And then, ever so slowly, he connects his lips with the soft, sensitive skin on your palm.

Tentatively, he moves a little and purses them against the inside of your wrist, lightly pressing them there, inhaling deeply and his breath shuddering slightly as he inhales your scent.

You notice both of your breathing has quickened. You can feel Eddie’s as it passes over your skin, and you feel your heartbeat in your throat.

Eddie looks over at you. His body may have changed in myriad ways, but his eyes remain the same. They’re still the huge, beautiful, warm pools of cacao that have drawn you in since the moment you met. It’s the tether that makes you realise that no matter how else he might’ve changed, deep down he’s still Eddie. Your Eddie.

You move your other hand, gently taking his wrist, and move his free hand up to your face. You close your eyes as you softly kiss his palm, and then move his hand to cup your cheek.

Gently, almost imperceptibly, Eddie moves his thumb and touches it to the very corner of your mouth. You feel a heat in your belly and you turn your head towards it, skimming it over your lips.

Your eyes flick between his chocolate orbs as Eddie bends his thumb ever so slightly. The pad of it pulls at the plush of your lower lip a tiny amount, but it’s enough to create a gap.

Without thinking you start to open your jaw, and he begins to move forwards. As he pushes into your waiting mouth all you can think about is tasting him, and your tongue starts to move. Just as the tip of it is about to make contact with Eddie’s thumb, there’s a jarring yell.

“Hey, everybody! Grub’s up!”

You pull apart with a start, both inhaling sharply.

It’s Robin, calling from the kitchen. Of course you’re grateful that the mums never allow the kids to arrive empty handed, but a large part of you wishes that you and Eddie could’ve had just a little more time to explore… whatever this is.

You let out nervous chuckles as you smile softly at one another, and hold each other’s gaze for probably little longer than is strictly necessary before you gather up the medical supplies and you both stand.

You can’t help but take Eddie’s hand in yours as you pull him towards the kitchen, encouraging him to follow lest he misses out on the delicacy that is Dustin’s mom’s substantial contribution.

“C’mon, Claudia’s lasagnas are totally legendary. It may sound simple, but combined with Mrs Sinclair’s recipe for garlic bread, I promise you, you’re about to have a near-spiritual culinary experience.”

Still feeling the heat of what just occurred in your room you busy yourself with packing away the first aid kit, and then elect to sit across the table from Eddie. You convince yourself that you’re not avoiding him, simply allowing the kids the chance to get close to him for a little while.

As if reading your mind, Dustin immediately plants himself in the chair next to Eddie, swiftly followed by Mike on his other side. Lucas sits next to Dustin, and Will slides in next to Mike. They chatter excitedly about campaigns and creatures and characters, and to see Eddie flanked by his adoring sheep brings a different kind of warmth to your chest.

The conversation remains light over dinner. Jokes are cracked, teasing occurs, and you’re pleased everyone’s getting a break from the tension and horrors.

The culinary delights are as good as you’d promised, and Eddie hums and moans at the delicious bounty before him. He remains pale, but he’s definitely regained some strength, vigour.

He glances over at you after taking an especially large mouthful of the meaty dish, and after you stop giggling at his uncouth antics he grins at you, tomato sauce staining his lips and the sides of his mouth, confirming,

“You’re right, this is goddamn heavenly!”

At another point he takes a particularly large bite of some soaked bread, and herb-flecked garlic butter oozes all over his thumb. Your eyes are drawn to it as he brings it to his mouth and presses it between his plump lips, and your eyes connect across the table as he sucks it off, twisting the digit and temporarily giving himself the most salacious pout. He spots you looking, and leaves his thumb in his mouth for what you consider is altogether too long before pulling it out with a pop. You gulp audibly and shift in your seat, grateful for the general clamour disguising your arousal.

You haven’t discussed as a group whether or where Eddie’s going to stay, though it seems to be unspoken between all of you that of course he’s going to remain here until you can all figure out what to do next. You decide not to raise the earlier conversation you had about him possibly leaving.

Dustin’s the first to broach the subject, asking,

“So, where’re you sleeping tonight, Eddie? You wanna come bunk with us in the warmest room in the house?”

He wiggles his eyebrows, attempting to extol the virtues of the open fire. His excitement is palpable, and you envy the optimism of youth that can make even the least appealing flat surfaces sound like an enticing bedspace.

You interject on Eddie’s behalf, suggesting,

“Hey guys, I know it would be the coolest sleepover ever, but I think Eddie might’ve earned the luxury of an actual bedroom after what he’s been through recently, don’t you think?”

Dustin looks crestfallen, but recovers quickly, agreeing with an only slightly pouty,

“I suppoooooose…”

Without looking at the others, you turn to Eddie and proffer,

“You’ll stay in my room, right?”

Eddie nods, his curls bouncing, as he agrees, perhaps a little too quickly,

“Of course, yep, that sounds… entirely fine.”

You miss how Robin and Steve glance at each other, Steve raising an eyebrow as Robin smirks at him.

There’s a quick clean up as dishes are done and pans are left to soak. Craving normalcy, you pile into the small living room and manage to make it through about two thirds of another of Keith’s loaned films before blinks get longer, eyes start to close and heads start to loll.

Robin chivvies the teens to get their sleeping bags set up, and there’s the typical grousing and bickering as everyone tries to use the bathroom at the same time. You think at one point three of the boys are trying to use the sink simultaneously, jostling each other and spitting far too enthusiastically in an effort to spray their compatriots. It’s a small nugget of frivolity that makes you consider the possibility that you might just all be okay.

Steve moves the small electric heater from his room back to yours, and you retrieve Eddie’s clothes from the drier. He slips into his Hellfire shirt and clean boxers as you change into your Garfield nightshirt, and then starts to grab blankets from beside you.

Confused, you question,

“What’re you doing?”

“Oh, uh… I just thought I’d sleep on the floor, y’know, give you the bed.”

You’re aghast.

“Don't be silly, Eddie. There’s plenty of room. Sleep up here, please? I mean, it’s not like we never have before. All those nights in the trailer when I got too baked to make it home, or you got too baked to drive me, or both…”

You both chuckle at the fond memory. You wonder whether you’ll ever let on that sometimes you were faking it, or deliberately took too many drags from the last blunt, just so you could spend the night with him, in his bed.

He throws the blankets back over and, smiling, climbs in beside you.

Turning off your bedside light, the room becomes bathed in the low, pale blue glow of the moonlight.

You both lie on your backs, staring at the ceiling. Somehow it’s easier to talk like this.

Thumbing the skull ring on your hand, you want to talk about the… other thing that happened, but have no idea how to bring it up.

As you’re ruminating, Eddie beats you to it.

“I hope it wasn’t weird? Earlier, I mean. It was…”

Your thighs clench a minuscule amount as you recall the feel of him between them, and the lightest brush of your lips on various parts of each other, and you finish his sentence for him.

“Nice. It was nice.”

Shit. It was so much more than nice, you think to yourself.

“I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you, or anything. I guess I’m just a little touch-starved, y’know…?”

“I don’t. Honestly, I’m just glad to be close to you again. And if I made you feel uncomfortable then I’m really sorry…”

You can tell by the minor shifts in the covers and from his general demeanour that Eddie’s fidgeting with his hands.

“You didn’t, I promise.”

There’s another pause, and Eddie huffs out another small breath before he continues,

“Listen, I know the past twenty-four hours has basically been weirdness personified, and I don’t want to make it even weirder, but…can I… maybe… hold you?”

“I think weird is probably the understatement of the century, but it’s okay. And… I think I’d like that.”

You shift closer to one another under the covers, and you turn onto your side as Eddie moves himself to spoon behind you in an echo of your position last night.

He tentatively drapes his arm over you. He feels warmer than when you last did this, and more relaxed, and you press slightly backwards towards him as much as you dare, letting out a heavy, relaxed sigh.

You take Eddie’s hand in yours, threading your fingers with his, running yours over and between his digits and turning his forelimb this way and that. He hums into your hair and lets you move his arm however you like.

But you stop when you glance down in the dim light and spot a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist that you’ve not seen before. It’s definitely new. You know this because you’ve spent hours tracing over every inch of his inked skin, fantasising about following the images with more than just your eyes, imagining using your fingers, your hands, your lips, your tongue…

But this one’s not like any of his others. This one is small and simple, and looks like the outlines of two soft-cornered rectangles with a blocky W between them. It takes you a moment to process what you’re looking at, realising it looks a lot like one you’ve seen before. She’s had it covered with a delicate floral design (having connections in government really can get you anything, including underage ink), but you remember what it looked like.

Jane’s was a rectangle stacked on top of two horizontal lines, but when you looked at it from a different angle it became numbers: 011.

Looking at Eddie’s, you move the position of his arm. It turns the image a little, suddenly giving it more meaning, as you see it depicts a different number: 030.

Quietly, you croak,

“Eddie, what’s thi-?”

You don’t have a chance to process what any of it could mean as Eddie suddenly tenses, his head lifted from the pillows and his face flicking towards the window and back to you.

His brow furrows as he murmurs,

“Do you hear that?”

You strain your ears and hear nothing at first. But then, gradually, and from far away, you hear the disturbingly familiar sounds of flapping, shuffling and screeching.

Goosebumps appear on your arms and the back of your neck as you abruptly recall the only things you know of that make sounds like these:

Creatures from the Upside Down…

Prev: Prologue Part One

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Thanks so much for reading!

I really hope you enjoyed this part. The next one will probably be the last, and the taglist is open (as is my general one), just say the word, friend 🙂

Comments and reblogs mean the world to me - please let me know what you think!

A/N 2: Did anyone spot the LOTR, Captain America and/or Make Up references? 🧝‍♂️🪓👍 (Also, completely by accident, AQPDO too 😜, and ETA: this and THIS 🫠)

Taglist: @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @ali-r3n @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @jasminelafleur @corrodedcoffincumslut @kthomps914 @iletmytittiestitty-russ @findmeincorneliastreet @tlclick73 @sapphire4082 @razzeith @cupid-club @storiesbyrhi @eris-rose-86 @micheledawn1975 @bl0ssomanddie @veemoon @sunshinepeachx @writinginthetwilight @curlyjoequinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @idkitsem @em0220 @kookygranger @fanfics-i-find-here @the-unforgivenn @b3lladoonna @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @amandahobblepot @daisy-munson @sheneedsrocknroll92 @maedesculpaeusoubi @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @kellsck @eddiemunsonshandcuffs @babydollface1165

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strangererotica · 9 months ago

Text

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Perv!Dark!Jim Hopper x fem!reader | This is a very long chapter!!! | I don’t even know the word count, but it’s a LOT…

PART ONE | PART TWO

The previous night had been one of the worst in Jim Hopper’s life. He’d endured the long hours till morning with the company of cigarettes and alcohol, ruminating on the way he’d potentially ruined his life the night before. How could he have allowed his obsession with you to sink this low? To the point of revealing his secret in the most damning way possible, literally caught with his pants down (or at least, undone). Hopper had gone to your home last night with the plan of seeing you and your boyfriend, Steve Harrington. To satisfy his curiosity about the relationship the two of you had together. Was Steve really as perfect as he seemed? Were you genuinely happy with him? Or, more pressing on Hopper’s mind, was Steve Harrington able to satisfy you?

Hopper had gotten more answers than he’d expected however, when he’d accidentally stumbled upon you and Steve sharing an intimate moment together. Nothing, especially Hopper’s barely existent sense of shame, could have stopped him from watching. He’d certainly felt shame after being caught, however. The expression in your eyes when you’d spotted him was…impossible for Hopper to read. You hadn’t looked embarrassed, or horrified, or even surprised, at least as Hopper had perceived. It’s possible, he told himself, that you were exceptionally good at hiding your emotions. Or maybe…maybe you’d known that Hopper was watching all along…?

The thought had occurred to him at some point during the night, after yet another failed attempt at sleep. Hopper stared up at the ceiling of his trailer, naked and drunkenly sprawled on his couch. He was surrounded by empty beer cans, a cigarette burning down between his lips. He watched the smoke rise to the ceiling, coiling above him in an almost hypnotic spiral, at least to his alcohol-soaked perception. The image above Hopper perfectly mirrored his life spiraling-out-of-control, and he chuckled darkly at the irony of it. Hopper thought again of your eyes, their expression which completely eluded him. And then…a new possibility occurred to him. What if you hadn’t been shocked at all by his behavior, Hopper wondered? What if the secret of his obsession was something you already knew about? Had you realized Hopper wasn’t what he seemed, that Hawkins’ Chief of Police was actually less a servant of the community, and more a slave to his own perverted impulses?

Hopper found a sick sort of comfort in this new theory, in the idea that you might have already known his secret. If you’d known he was watching you last night, along with the reason why, perhaps you’d have less reason to be shocked at his indecent behavior? Your expression had appeared so vague to Hopper, maybe because you’d known he was there watching all along? Hopper lay on his couch, wondering…if maybe you’d left your curtains pulled on purpose? Had you wanted Hopper to see your boyfriend fuck you?

The character profile Hopper had constructed of you was of an innocent girl yet to be corrupted. If he’d been wrong all this time, and you were actually as deviant as he was, then the possibility of Hopper having you became more real to him. Maybe you liked the idea of being watched, of being obsessed over? Had your innocent behavior around Hopper been an act this whole time, a game you were playing at his expense? Did you get off on knowing he wanted you, but couldn’t have you?

The sun was rising, reminding Hopper of the time. He checked his watch, realizing he’d have to leave for the station soon. Facing you would be much easier if his theory about you was right. Part of him knew it was a long shot, but fuck, Hopper needed this fantasy, the hope that you secretly liked his lusting after you, that you wanted to be wanted by him…?

────────────────

The drive to the station was relatively easy for Hopper, considering the fact that he’d had zero sleep the night before and his hangover was getting progressively worse. Regardless of how awful he felt, Hopper was impatient to receive some kind of feedback from you, whether negative or positive. Not knowing how you were feeling about last night was tying a knot in Hopper’s stomach. And as soon as he entered the station, that knot in his stomach tightened.

A young woman Hopper didn’t recognize was seated at your desk. He stopped in his tracks, surprised and growing increasingly worried. Where the hell were you?

Hopper approached the secretarial desk. “Uh, hey,” he began tentatively. “Where’s (y/n)?”

The young woman smiled back at Hopper, and in spite of his anxiety, he couldn’t help but notice how attractive she was.

“(y/n) called in sick this morning,” the young woman replied. Hopper took a deep breath; his fantasy that you’d be alright with his deviant behavior was more than likely only that: a fantasy. You probably thought Hopper was the lowest scum on Earth, and couldn’t bear the thought of coming into work today and having to interact with him.

“Did she-uh-.” Hopper paused, clearing his throat. “Did she say what’s wrong, exactly? Anything specific?”

“No, but maybe she caught the flu?” the young woman replied. “I mean, her voice sounded okay over the phone. But you never know with the flu; it could be affecting her stomach-.” She looked away awkwardly, flustered and embarrassed for rambling.

Hopper took a few seconds to consider the new layer of shit he found himself in. At this point, he was sure you’d told Steve what had happened. Because, after all, Steve was your boyfriend. Why wouldn’t you tell him?

Then again, if you had told Steve, why wasn’t he at the station right now kicking Hopper’s ass? Maybe you’d begged Steve not to tell anyone, afraid you’d put your job in jeopardy?

The temporary secretary cleared her throat to get Hopper’s attention. Her big, expressive eyes drifted up and down his body, a curious smile on her face. Hopper tried to focus on her smile and not his anxiety, grateful for the distraction when she extended a pretty hand to him. “We haven’t met before,” the young woman said. “I’m Mary.”

Hopper took her hand, which disappeared in his. “Jim,” he said, adding, “Mary. That’s a beautiful name, Mary.”

She dropped her eyes bashfully, a light pink blush coloring her cheeks. Hopper already knew Mary wanted him to fuck her; it was more than obvious. Having her would be easy for several reasons. Mary was obviously young, likely nineteen or twenty, Hopper guessed. And from experience, he knew that younger women were easier conquests, because they tended to be inexperienced and therefore, attracted to someone mature and in a position of authority like Hopper.

One of the reasons Hopper was so enchanted by you was the fact that you were the exact opposite of a girl like Mary. You were young, but not so young that you automatically came with the prepackaged naïveté Hopper had grown so bored with after years of fucking women barely old enough to drink. Women who’d maybe had one or two partners, if any. Virgins were easy for Hopper to fuck, but they bored him. He needed a woman who would let him do unspeakable things to her body, not teach her how to fuck in the first place. He was too lazy for that, too selfish. Hopper wanted you, a woman who looked sweet and innocent in public, but could handle the dicking-down he intended to give you in private…

Hopper realized his thoughts were drifting again, so he forced himself to focus on the distraction in front of him: Mary. Secretary Mary. The fact that her name rhymed with her job might help him remember it for a change, Hopper realized. Usually, he didn’t waste time cataloging information about the women he fucked; it was too much of an effort for Hopper to keep track of them all.

He’d likely never see Mary again, after today. You’d be back at the station tomorrow, and Hopper could make things right with you…at least, he hoped you’d come back. The possibility of never seeing you again was something Hopper couldn’t handle right now. He needed to see you, to talk about what happened.

Mary’s pleasant voice pulled Hopper from his thoughts. “It’s nice to meet you, Jim,” she said, and he knew she meant it. “If you need anything…” Mary held the pause in her statement long enough to make sure Hopper understood the full extent of her meaning. “…You know where to find me.”

Hopper nodded politely. He knew he’d have her in the backseat of his Blazer by lunch.

“Likewise, Mary,” Hopper smiled, his voice soft and authoritative, laying the charm on thick. Mary’s subtle change in posture, the way her shoulders went back slightly, accentuating her breasts in the most innocent way possible, confirmed Hopper’s suspicions. He leaned forward, narrowing the space between them. Mary’s breathing changed instantly; Hopper could practically hear her pulse quicken. “Hey,” he whispered, a friendly grin on his lips. “I take my lunch at eleven; you wanna get out of here for awhile?”

Mary’s answer, predictably, was yes.

────────────────

Hopper had assumed correctly that Mary-the-Secretary was a virgin. She’d blurted it out as soon as he touched her, as if confessing something. Hopper didn’t react, because of course he’d already known. And he may have been compulsive when it came to sex, but he wasn’t a monster; Hopper never planned on putting his dick inside Mary. He knew she wasn’t ready for that, and he had no desire to make her first time a painful one. His only purpose in doing anything with Mary, or any woman at this point, was to use her body as a substitute for yours…

Mary had a pretty pussy and tasted sweet, so it was easy for Hopper to pretend she was you. He ate her for twenty minutes or so, and didn’t pull her panties back up for her till she’d come twice. He looked at his watch, noting that his lunch break was nearly over. Hopper gave Mary’s thigh a hearty pat and informed her it was “time to head back,” walking around to the front of the car and waiting for Mary to do the same. She of course took a bit longer than Hopper, being unsteady on her feet. Climbing into the passenger side, she closed her eyes and leaned to rest her head against Hopper’s shoulder. He grimaced, frowning at the road ahead, but Mary didn’t see his expression.

Another problem with virgins, Hopper was reminded: They get too attached and usually, right away. Especially the younger ones, who seemed to demand a dual role of Hopper that he wasn’t willing to waste time or effort to play: the role of a father figure as well as a lover. There was nothing about any of these girls that Hopper wanted to nurture, and he tried to convey that message early on with his behavior. But sometimes, the message wasn’t received, and Hopper had a broken heart on his hands that he’d never meant to break. He didn’t mind the slight guilt it caused his conscience this time, because Hopper knew he’d probably never see Mary again. Broken-hearted girls were easy to ignore when Hopper could avoid interacting with them.

He caught a glimpse of Mary’s face in the passenger side mirror. She was positively beaming, glowing… Hopper realized she’d probably never had an orgasm before today. He sighed to himself; she was definitely attached. Hopper didn’t want a puppy, but he seemed to now have one on his heels. Mary tried to get Hopper’s attention all day after lunch, making frequent trips into his office with one excuse or another, cheeks flushed rosy, giddy with excitement at just being near him. By the time Hopper got off duty, he was more than happy to be parting ways with Mary. She saw him leaving and trotted after Hopper to his car, asking if she could see him later tonight.

Rather than give her illusions of anything further happening between them, Hopper decided to rip the emotional bandage off quickly, and be done with it. “No, Mary,” he said over a cigarette. She watched him turn his key in the ignition, her smile softly fading. “I can’t see you tonight,” Hopper continued flatly. “I have a date.”

Mary’s sweet features melted into a look of sorrow that Hopper was familiar with. He didn’t enjoy hurting young women, but delivering a well-intentioned lie was better than handing out false hope. He backed out of the parking lot and onto the main road that ran through downtown Hawkins. It would take less than three minutes for Hopper to get to your house. He was tempted. The urge to know what was going through your head right now was eating him up inside.

As usual when it came to Hopper, temptation did get the better of him. He began to feel angry at you for denying him a response. How could you not let him know where your mind was at, after what happened last night? The anxiety of not knowing was making Hopper miserable, emotionally sick. His dick had barely gotten hard when he was eating out the temporary secretary, even though he’d mentally replaced her with you.

An ugly sense of rage began to boil in Hopper’s gut. How dare you avoid him…how dare you pretend that everything was okay, that the world wasn’t caving in, making up some absurd excuse about being sick to avoid Hopper? His grip on the steering wheel had tightened to the point of discomfort, but as with his obsession, Hopper couldn’t. let. go.

The sun was setting as Hopper pulled down your street. It reminded him of where he’d been exactly twenty-four hours ago, driving from Steve’s house to yours, and how everything about his life had changed in the hour following. Hopper saw Steve’s car in your driveway, but that didn’t stop him. He was determined to get an answer, to get some kind of reassurance from you that everything last night was real, and not the result of a drug-induced dream his subconscious had conjured up. Hopper knew he had to control himself, to stuff his rage deeper lest it take hold of him and guide his mind in a direction that would cause even more harm than he already had.

Hopper pulled to a stop in your driveway, rather than parking further down the street like he had last night. What was the point? Hopper planned on being confrontational, on getting the answers he was owed. A thin line of sweat dripped down his chest as he put the Blazer in park. Hopper’s deep blue eyes were darker than usual when he checked his reflection in the rearview mirror. He was reminded briefly of those cheesy horror movies where a character in the film becomes possessed. Their eyes were always depicted as changing color, going a darker shade, as if the demon that had overtaken them was seeping through the very windows of their soul. Hopper’s reflection was slightly jarring. He wondered what was possessing him? His answer came easily; Hopper was possessed by you.

He threw open the driver’s side door and slammed it shut. Hopper wiped the sweat from his forehead, then reached into his pocket for a cigarette, quickly deciding against it. He didn’t want anything distracting him, not even a cigarette. Hopper decided he could smoke after he’d handled you. He could have rang the doorbell, but opted for the more aggressive option, banging his fist against the door in three firm, thudding knocks. A muffled voice from behind the door called out, “just a sec,” and Hopper cursed under his breath. It was Steve.

The front door pulled back and Hopper found himself once again in the presence of “King Steve,” Harrington. “What an honor,” Hopper sarcastically muttered. Steve didn’t hear, as he was too busy adjusting the t-shirt he’d obviously pulled on in a hurry to answer the door. It was on backwards, tag visible on the neckline. Steve looked less like a king and more like a pauper at the moment, his shorts crooked and hair a mess. Hopper took in the sight of the younger man, the rapid pace of his breathing, perspiration glistening on the end of Steve’s nose.

Except, it wasn’t sweat. Hopper could smell sex all over Steve, and he swallowed, hard. That was you…your sweet scent radiating from Steve’s body, covering his face and neck. Steve must have realized he looked a mess, because he quickly pulled up the bottom of his shirt and wiped his face, and ran a hand through his hair in an attempt to fix it. “Uh-hey Chief,” Steve said distractedly. “What’re you doing here?”

Hopper chewed his tongue so hard it hurt. How he wanted to end Steve Harrington, to shove past him and into your house. Hopper would find you and finish the job for Steve. And he’d do it better, too…

Hopper realized you must not have told Steve about last night, and that the time to confront you was not now. He took a deep breath before speaking. “I heard (y/n) called in sick today,” Hopper said quietly, then cleared his throat to speak more clearly. “Just checking to make sure she’s okay.”

Steve leaned an elbow against the doorway, nodding quickly and assuring Hopper in a flurry of words that you were “fine-just fine,” and “I’ll let her know you uh-you stopped by-.” And then, the door closed in Hopper’s face…

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Hours passed.

Hopper drank.

The Hideaway stayed open till three AM on Mondays. It was a clever business move designed to entice customers in after what was typically the most stressful work day of the week. Right now, Hopper was just grateful to have a drink in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. The location didn’t matter; he would have gladly laid his cash and self respect on the bar of any nearby watering hole. Luckily for Hopper, The Hideaway was only a few minutes drive from your house, which made it the perfect place to kill time.

He checked his watch more often than he needed, drinking shot after shot of whatever contained the highest percentage of alcohol. After his encounter with Steve that evening, Hopper needed this. If he was angry before, he was furious now. That bastard had literally been fucking you in the next room right before answering the door. Hopper threw back another shot of vodka, sucking the last of it from the glass. The bartender had been watching him for some time now, taking note of how much alcohol Hopper was consuming. He’d known Hopper long before he was ever an officer, or an adult for that matter. Randy had known Hopper his entire life. He understood the pain Hopper had endured, from his time in Vietnam to the death of his daughter, and the eventual breakdown of his marriage. Randy understood how a man like Hopper could be motivated to drink in excess, turning to alcohol to quiet the memories that haunted him, like so many others who visited the bar. Although Hopper was an adult now, Randy still kept an eye on how much alcohol he had while in his establishment. It was one small way Randy could still take care of him. And he decided that Hopper had had enough.

“Hey Jimmy,” the old man said, approaching Hopper from behind the bar. He had a glass in one hand and a towel in the other, drying it as he spoke. “You driving tonight?”

Hopper shook his head ‘no,’ and then laughed. Why should he lie? He was the Chief of Police, after all. But to spare the old man any worry, Hopper didn’t retract his lie. Instead, he doubled down on it, telling Randy through a series of slurred words that he’d walked there tonight, and planned on walking home. Randy wasn’t convinced; he knew Hopper’s trailer was all the way out by Lover’s Lake. Too far for anyone to choose walking into town over driving. But there was nothing else the old man could do besides refuse Hopper anymore alcohol. “Regardless,” Randy said. “I think it’s time for you to call it a night, Jimmy.”

Hopper groaned, rising from his barstool. He opened his wallet and removed more than enough money to pay his tab, leaving it on the bar. “Keep th’change, Randy,” he drawled, adding “Thanks for always lookin’ out for me.” Hopper staggered to the front door, leaning on it for support as he pushed it open. The night was beautiful; the cloudless sky an inky canvas, sprinkled with stars that were easily visible. Hopper stood in place but swayed on his feet, staring up at the moon. He wondered if your bedroom curtain was open tonight, letting the moonlight in? Hopper decided to find out for himself…

──────────────────

You’d said goodnight to Steve around eleven that evening. After a long bath, you’d climbed into bed with a good book, read for awhile, then switched off your bedside lamp to go to sleep. Your mind, however, had different plans for you.

It had been nearly impossible to stop thinking about Hopper since last night. He’d been on your mind so often throughout the day, you’d swear he’d taken up residence inside your head. You knew he’d stopped by earlier that afternoon, claiming he wanted to make sure you were feeling better, or something to that effect. But you knew the real reason Hopper had shown up at your door, and that he was also worried you’d told Steve, maybe everyone, about last night. Your absence at work must have confirmed Hopper’s worry.

The truth, however, was much more complicated. You knew Hopper was sick. You’d known for awhile now. You’d seen the way he looked at you, sensed the energy coming from him. You’d recently become aware of Hopper’s compulsive masturbation in his office, ever since you’d taken his trash liner out (as you did with all the bins at the station before clocking out every night). At first, you’d been shocked by your discovery…but you quickly became intrigued. You wondered why Hopper needed to come so often…if maybe the way he looked at you was an indication of where his need was coming from?

The possibility of Chief Jim Hopper wanting you that desperately was…intoxicating. You’d had a crush on him from the moment you met, and in spite of your relationship with Steve, your crush had flourished into a kind of obsession. You knew exactly which cigarettes Hopper smoked (Camel’s, that was his preferred brand) how he liked his coffee (black with a spoonful of honey on the side), that his beer of choice was Schlitz. You’d purchased an aftershave that smelled like Hopper and made Steve use it. You’d snuck a peek at the tag on the navy jacket Hopper wore, and purchased one for yourself.

A favorite ritual of yours was to lay in bed wearing Hopper’s jacket and nothing else. You’d sprinkle a few drops of his aftershave onto your chest, and touch yourself. It wasn’t the same as having Hopper, but…it was enough to get you through the nights when Steve couldn’t satisfy you. Of course, your boyfriend made you come, and often. Steve was amazing in bed, and the sex you had with him was nearly perfect. The one fault you had with Steve (and it was major) was his sex drive. He simply didn’t need sex as much as you did, as often or as rough. Sometimes, you’d convince Steve to play rougher and he would, but not without asking a million times afterwards if he’d hurt you, if he’d made you feel cheap or used, or unloved? Steve was sweet, but his sweetness often got in the way of pursuing rougher intimacy, the kind you craved.

Like last night…Spitting into your mouth, and fucking you in the ass, were acts Steve never would have initiated himself. He preferred gentle, tender sex over anything. While Steve was content to be making love, you needed to be fucked. You wanted a man like Hopper to hurt you and not apologize for it. You wanted him to pump and dump you, leave you split in half and covered in his cum, and to never once say sorry…

You knew Hopper was sick, and you didn’t judge him for it. Because what no one else knew, not even Steve, was that you were sick, too. You couldn’t get enough sex, and Steve wasn’t meeting your needs. You’d kept your crush on Hopper a secret, resigning yourself to good, not great, sex.

When you saw Hopper standing outside your house last night, you made the spontaneous decision to dance for him. And when Steve appeared in the doorway, you realized an even better opportunity to ‘perform,’ for Hopper had presented itself.

Making sure to stand directly in front of the window where you knew Hopper could see everything, you’d let Steve fuck you. Knowing that Hopper was watching in secret made you unbelievably aroused. Seeing him coming all over himself afterwards was the confirmation you needed that Hopper wanted you. The visit he’d made to your home earlier had only been the beginning. You knew that if Jim Hopper wanted to fuck you…he’d be back.

The sound of your front door being unlocked startled you. It must be Steve, of course, since your boyfriend is the only other person with a key to your house. At least, that’s what you thought…

“Steve?”

The door slammed shut. Footsteps on the stairs told you immediately that this was not Steve. You knew his gait, the sound of his walk. You’d heard your boyfriend go up and down those stairs dozens of times. These steps were heavy, uneven. The intruder paused at the sound of your voice, when you called out “who’s there?”

Hopper stepped through your bedroom doorway, making you jump. “S’okay, it’s alright,” he said, lifting his hands to show you he meant no harm. “I just wanna talk, okay? We need to fuckin’ talk…” Hopper sat on the end of your bed, his weight shifting the mattress under you.

“I don’t want to talk,” you told him, to which Hopper immediately replied, “I understand. You’re probably very confused about last night, but you don’t have to be embarrassed.” You tried to interrupt, but Hopper wouldn’t let you get a word in. “I just wish you would have fucking talked to me.” His voice was intense, darker. “You don’t show up at work- What am I supposed to think?!” Hopper slammed his fist against your bed, making you jump. “That my life is over? That I’m never gonna see you again?” Hopper’s speech was slurred, but you understood exactly what he was saying.

He was staring you down, his eyes lingering over the sheet concealing you. Hopper wanted so badly to rip the fabric back and see your body beneath it. All of his strength was focused on controlling himself, because despite the alcohol slurring Hopper’s words, he was very much aware of what was happening, and where he was. He was sitting on your bed, the most intimate place in your home. The place where you laid your head each night and dreamed, where you likely touched yourself. You were so vulnerable like this, Hopper realized. If he lost control right now, and let his darker impulses take hold of him, he might do something even worse than he’d done last night…

“I don’t want to talk,” you repeated, and Hopper laughed darkly. “Well that’s just fine, because I AM gonna talk and you’re gonna fucking LISTEN-.” Hopper grit his teeth, his jaw tensed. He wanted to punish you right now so badly, for making him endure the torture of your silence, your absence. You sat forward in bed, the sheet concealing your body falling aside. Hopper’s features softened, his lips parting slightly, eyes fixed on your exposed breasts. You watched as Hopper’s body language shifted, the muscles in his neck contracting as he swallowed. He was obviously aroused by your nakedness, and for the first time all night, Hopper was at a loss for words.

Taking his hand, you placed his palm over your breast. Hopper drew in a deep breath, staring at his hand cupping your tit, feeling your nipple harden against his palm. You repeated the same words, but slower. This time, Hopper knew precisely their meaning: “…I don’t…want…to TALK…” Hopper understood. You weren’t interested in talking. You wanted him to fuck you.

Hopper’s lips replaced his hand over your breast. Latching onto your nipple, he pressed the tip of his tongue against it before circling and sucking. Your surprised whimper at his intensity made Hopper’s cock stiffen, throbbing against the confines of his jeans. He sank his teeth lightly into your breast, grunting into your tit when a low moan escaped your lips. The sounds you made were divine, even prettier than Hopper had imagined.

His hands gripped the flesh at your hips, groping along your belly to your thighs. His lips crushed against yours as he used his hands to spread your thighs wide open. Hopper felt your cum on his fingers, and put them to his lips. His tongue swept over your slick once, twice, three times, because to Hopper, you tasted like God. The scent of you hadn’t done justice to the divinity of your taste. Hopper sucked his fingers clean before grabbing your legs and tugging your ass down the bed toward him. You gasped, smiling, that smile Hopper could never get tired of seeing, all innocence and corruption at the very same time; a smile that looked angelic on a mouth built for nothing but sin…

Nestling between your legs, Hopper rested his cheek against your inner thigh. He wanted to savor these sensations…your cum slicking his cheek where it rested against your thigh…your scent vanilla sweet, just inches from his nose…the view of your soaked pussy glistening wet and warm…

Hopper lowered his face and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to your clit. Your skin tasted so sweet, like a ripe peach waiting to be bitten. Hopper couldn’t go a second longer without your cunt in his mouth. With his big hands clenching your hips, Hopper pulled your cunt over his lips. Your back arched as Hopper flexed his tongue inside you, curving it around your g-spot.

Your fingers latched onto Hopper shoulders, bracing yourself as your body shivered. No one had ever licked your cunt like this, eating you from the inside out. You twisted and writhed, your lower back lifting off the mattress. If your hips hadn’t been anchored down by Hopper’s hands, you were convinced you’d be floating by now. It already felt like you were. Hopper was licking places so deep inside you, he forgot to breathe. His nose was pressed flush to your clit, his chin rutting against the curve of your ass. Hopper never wanted to leave the warmth of your cunt, not even for air. He pressed two fingers inside you and with an almost hypnotic pace, Hopper expertly fingered your cunt. He spread your slippery lips apart with his tongue, honing in on your clit. Wrapping his mouth over the raised pink bud, Hopper sucked in time with the thrusts of his fingers inside you.

Your eyes were on the ceiling, but you didn’t see it. You were floating, melting, dissolving under Hopper’s lips and around his fingers. The sopping wetness of you sprayed over Hopper’s face, your pillowy walls sucking and contracting around his fingers as you came. Hopper lapped at your cunt like a thirsty animal; he’d never been so drunk on a pussy that he’d blacked out like this, lost track of time and space and everything in between. Your cunt in Hopper’s mouth was like a strong hit of the best drug he’d ever tried. He was addicted instantly. No other pussy would be able to satisfy Hopper after this; he was sure of it. Hopper rubbed his face into your cunt, smearing your cum all over his face. He knew now why Steve was always covered in you; Hopper understood completely. Your cum smelled like every good pussy Hopper had ever had, combined.

As your hips stilled, Hopper lifted his face to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, a thin sheen of sweat coloring your cheeks ruddy, eyebrows cinched together. Your voice was weak, but you managed to softly whimper “more…” and pressed Hopper’s face into your cunt again. He took another hit, another drag, another shot of you. That euphoric bliss went straight to Hopper’s cock, and his climax took him by surprise, filling the crotch of his jeans with cum. You came harder this time, losing yourself for a moment in a black pool of pleasure, your eyes on the ceiling but not in this world anymore.

Hopper rose up from between your thighs, cum dripping off his chin as he hovered over your body. He smacked his palm against your pussy and you choked back a sob, a pain that Hopper was as quick to rub away as he was to dole out. He alternated between spanking your pussy with a force so brutal it shook the bed frame and made you cry, then rubbing his palm against your abused cunt till you were crying in pleasure. Hopper forced three fingers from one hand inside your sopping cunt and hooked them around your insides, ramming into your pussy as hard and as deep as he could, his knuckles disappearing inside you, fingertips nudging your cervix. All throughout this beautiful torture of your insides, Hopper continued to spank his other palm against your cunt. Your lips were already swollen but now, they were twice as puffy and twice as tempting to suck. Hopper removed his fingers from you and pushed his face between your legs again, growling into your plump heat, his spent cock stiffening again inside his cum-soaked jeans.

He pulled your lips between his, suckling at their pillowy softness. Hopper gulped your cum as you squirted again, sealing his open mouth over your pussy so he wouldn’t miss a drop. His stomach was full of cum, his tongue thick and heavy, and Hopper had never been a happier man. You pressed his shoulders back, and he let you climb on top of him. You rubbed yourself against Hopper’s crotch, the bulge in his jeans wet with both his cum and now yours. Speeding your lips around the outline of his cock, you humped Hopper through his jeans. The weight of you on top of his cock made Hopper groan, the rocking of your hips as you rutted over and over again along his clothed erection pushing Hopper over the edge. He came inside his jeans again, grunting through his climax as you never stopped humping him, as you drained every drop from Hopper’s cock and refused to climb off till you’d come again, too.

Despite the fact that he’d already come twice, Hopper couldn’t stop getting hard again within five minutes of coming. He pulled his cock from his jeans, shaking it by the base, letting his cum fall off his dick and onto your stomach. Hopper grabbed your hips and flipped you over, spitting on your asshole and rubbing his fat tip against it. Without warning, he buried himself inside you, splitting you open just like you wanted. You yelped in pain; Hopper’s hand found your mouth, cupping around your face from behind. “Bite down,” he ordered, shoving his fingers between your lips. Hopper fucked you harder as your teeth sank into his skin. The pain in your asshole began to subside as you braced your teeth around Hopper’s fingers. His cock was stretching your asshole beyond its capacity to hold him; but with every punch of your guts, the pain got easier and easier to take.

“I’m gonna come-,” Hopper panted over your back. “I’m gonna come again-FUCK!” Hopper emptied his third load inside you, painting your asshole with semen. His body shivered, trembling, and you felt the vibration through his cock, still hard as a diamond in your ass. Sweat dripped from Hopper’s chest onto your back. He pulled his fingers from your mouth, sucking the small bit of blood off of them. Hopper lazily humped the soft curves of your ass, pushing his cum deeper as his cock softened inside you. “You did so good,” Hopper murmured against your ear. “Such a good fucking girl…”

You tilted your head back, lips parted in a contented smile. Your hair was drenched in sweat, wispy strands sticking to your forehead. Hopper took his time kissing each one, letting his cock linger inside you, making sure every single drop of his cum was deposited there. When he did pull out, Hopper trailed kisses along the curve of your back, gently removing his cock from inside you.

“Is there a mess?” you asked, and Hopper smirked, looking down at his dick.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he replied, reaching for a tissue box on your nightstand and using them to wipe his cock clean. You realized the sun would be coming up soon, and that you’d both have to get ready for work. “How about a shower and some breakfast?” you asked, and Hopper smiled. “I’d like that,” he said.

After showering, you showed Hopper where the kitchen was and he made you both scrambled eggs and toast. He needed to leave a little early to go home and change into his uniform. You kissed Hopper goodbye and watched him walk to his vehicle through your front doorway. And it occurred to you that this…all of this…was absolutely going to happen again.

@mrshopper84

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tooearlyforthis · 5 months ago

Text

Be Mine

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Synopsis: (5.8k wc) After what felt like forever pining after her friend, Y/n finally got asked out on Valentine's Day. Or, at least she thinks she did.

Warnings: friends to lovers, fluff, a little angst, no beta this already took too long

masterlist || steve harrington taglist

Happy Fourth of July! What better way to celebrate than posting the Valentine's fic I never finished in time cause life is crazy right now?

The coffee shop bustled as the morning sun rose. Locals grabbed their cup of joe before the start of a long work day and while most groaned in protest, Y/n craved it.

The start of a new day and the endless possibilities it might hold excited her. Though, her days almost always ended in the exact same way. She would show up early, order the two coffee orders she memorized years before, and grab a table. Her companion was always late, on the days they drove separately at least.

But still, she arrived at least 10 minutes before their scheduled time. Partly because the morning line could get crazy long, but mostly so she could people watch. Sitting and watching the daily lives of the people in her hometown made her see how vastly different people led their lives.

She could be like Dr. Reinfeld who arrived in the first wave of the morning rush, quick to get his black coffee before running off to surgery. Or she could live more relaxed like Deborah McCallister who worked as a waitress at Enzo’s on Main Street. That woman was always so kind to her, coming over to talk most days.

“And the butcher shop is still going well?” Deborah asked, her hand leaning on the chair opposite Y/n for balance.

Y/n nodded. “Meat won’t sell itself,” she joked.

The older woman laughed, probably a little too hard as she reached for another sip of coffee. Y/n only smiled, offering a small chuckle in return.

“Well it isn’t my two favorite ladies!”

The two women looked over by the door where Steve Harrington sauntered in with a grin. He was wearing a pretty basic outfit. Straight jeans, Nike’s, and a stripped shirt with his Family Video vest over top. But god, did he look good. Y/n couldn’t help but stare at the way his hair bounced with every step as he walked over to greet her.

Deborah got to Steve first, engulfing him in a huge hug. “Oh Steven, you look taller every time I see you!” she exclaimed.

“You’re just saying that to be nice,” he told her, pulling away but giving her a wink.

Deborah hit his arm slightly, clearly amused by the young boy. “I have to get going, you two have a lovely morning.”

“You too, Mrs. McCallister,” Y/n replied as the woman left. Steve quickly sat down in her absence, reaching over to grab the coffee Y/n had ordered for him. She knew his order by heart and Steve found that the drink tasted perfect against his tongue. “Wow, suck up.”

He put the drink back down, finishing his last sip with an emphasized gulp. “Hey, I’m not a suck up. The ladies just love me.”

“Oh really?” He took a sip from his cup, agreeing with a hum.

Steve wasn’t wrong, though Y/n would never let him know that. Here she was, knowing him personally for only a few years and she already found herself falling for him. It would never happen, she was sure, and she was fine letting her infatuation stay just a silly crush.

But some days she wondered what her life would have been like if she hadn’t been babysitting Dustin that day in 1984. If his “pet” hadn’t escaped, if they didn’t look towards Steve Harrington for help. There would be less monsters in her life that was for sure. But then again, she wouldn’t trade it for anything else. She wouldn’t have known Steve had changed; wouldn’t have become close friends with him. And she wouldn’t be sitting in this coffee shop before work, chatting with the only other person in their party who wasn’t in high school.

“How was your night?” Y/n asked, pulling herself out of her thoughts. Her and Steve usually got dinner after work if their shifts matched, but last night he had to cancel for some unknown reason.

Steve’s face scrunched at her question, shaking his head vigorously. “Not really a topic I wanna visit right now…how about you?”

What about her? Steve canceled the only night she had been looking forward to in weeks. Her parents were always at work, the kids swarmed with school work. There was nothing but him.

She shrugged, trying to play it off like it was nothing. “You know, it was fine.”

“Do you wanna come over tomorrow?” He said it so nonchalantly she almost choked on her muffin. Tomorrow? Tomorrow was February 14th, Valentine’s Day. Y/n felt like her heart skipped a beat as she tried to hide her surprised expression. He just asked her out right? He totally did. “We can have dinner.”

She tried to stay calm, to not seem too eager to say yes. Spending Valentine’s Day with Steve felt like a dream come true. Never in a million years did she think that he would like her back.

“Sure,” she said, trying to stay calm. She looked down at her coffee to try and hide her reddening cheeks. “I would love to.”

“Cool,” Steve replied, not looking at her but rather his watch. “Shit we’re both gonna be late we should go.”

With no other mention of it, no more discussions of the night to come, they left for their respective shifts. But throughout the day, for Y/n at least, she couldn’t stop thinking about the night to come. This date would change everything about their relationship and she couldn’t wait.

Her palms were sweaty. How did she get them to not be sweaty? Turning up the air conditioner in her car, she held her hands out, letting them dry against the air. How was a night like this even happening? She never thought someone like Steve would like her. He had the looks in high school and once he became nicer it was like a package deal.

She spent too long that afternoon getting ready and deciding what to wear. She was nervous because she didn’t know what Steve planned for them. In the end, she decided on a pair of jeans and a low-cut shirt. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for her to be wearing something like that but it was sure to catch his eye. Walking up to the front door, she dried her hands on her jeans one more time. Then, she knocked.

Steve answered nonchalantly, wearing pajamas bottoms and a t-shirt. Y/n was a little confused. Was this how he showed up to all his dates? Suddenly, she felt overdressed, even when he glanced down at her chest -- the very reason she wore that shirt. Looking away quickly, Steve ushered her inside.

He cleared his throat. “Hey, come on in,” he said. “I ordered a pizza, it should be here soon.”

Nodding, she entered. She had been in the Harrington home so many times before but now it felt different. There were stakes with every step, every interaction could determine how the night would end. She followed him into the living room, watching as he lazily fell onto the couch.

“You wanna watch a movie?” he asked.

It made her falter for a moment. Here she was with the man of her dreams on Valentine’s Day and they were doing what they would do any other night. He put no effort into it. Nothing to make her feel wanted on the romantic holiday.

“Sure,” she said, sitting down next to him. She placed her bag on the coffee table before leaning back, trying not to get too comfortable.

He put on Fast Times which wasn’t what she would’ve expected for a date, but then again Steve really liked the movie. She tried to enjoy it, tried to think that this date wasn’t letting down every expectation she set for herself. But as the movie went on and Steve’s interest was more in his lap than her or the movie, she felt her last bits of hope slowly fall.

“Is everything okay?” she decided to ask. Figuring that maybe something else would be the root of why this date was so shitty.

He looked up at her with a shrug. “It’s nothing, not something the two of us usually talk about.”

That made her perk up. What was the forbidden subject he was speaking of? “Try me.”

“Are you sure?”

She waved her hands. “Go for it.”

Sitting up, he turned to face her on the couch, crossing his legs in front of him. “It’s just- I went on this date with Nicole on Thursday and it was just another blah date you know? There was nothing special about it and it just got me thinking about if dating is even worth it at this point.”

He kept talking but the words began to muffle as Y/n’s thoughts took over her mind. He went on a date with Nicole. On the day that they were supposed to hang out. And above all this, he’s telling her about it while on a date with her.

Steve went on about finding the one and how he didn’t think it would be possible in the small town of Hawkins but Y/n was focusing too hard on trying not to cry. This wasn’t a date at all. He invited her over on Valentine’s Day to hang out and she had made it out to be her dream come true.

How could she allow herself to think this way? To get so worked up over a friend that she was on the verge of tears? She was frustrated, confused, even embarrassed that she had even assumed he wanted to date her. Y/n wanted to leave, to run out his front door and try to forget like the night had even happened. But still she remained frozen in her seat as Steve rambled on.

When Steve finally stopped, looking at her to answer a question she didn’t even hear him ask, his expression turned worrisome. Tilting his head, he tried to move closer to her. “Hey what’s wrong?”

Why was she still there? Why was she letting herself feel this way? There was nothing stopping her from leaving. She could get up and walk out the front door if she wanted to - and so she did.

Standing up, Y/n grabbed her bag that she placed next to her. “I just remembered,” she said, clearing her throat. “I-I have to help Max with something just— I need to go.”

“O-okay,” he responded warily. Where was this coming from? “Do you need me to walk you to—”

“Nope!” She was already heading toward the door without a second glance. “See you later, Steve.”

The door slammed before he could say more. She didn’t want him to. Didn’t want him to see how she let the tears flow as she walked to her car. How she blasted the music loud on her drive home to distract her. She needed to distance herself from him. This felt like a wake up call, someone telling her to get over him and figure her own shit out before seeing him again.

She wanted to stay friends with him, she really did. But after tonight, she didn’t know how that was possible.

After Y/n stormed out of his house, Steve was confused. She had such a good memory that she never would have forgotten if Max needed help. Nevertheless he watched her go, unable to question her more before leaving.

Steve was supposed to see her the next day anyway, picking her up for coffee before their similarly-timed shifts. But when he knocked on her door that morning, ready to see one of his best friends, he was confused yet again.

“I’m not feeling the best,” she told him. “I’m just gonna drive myself today.”

“Okay do you need—” The door closed before he could finish his sentence. “Anything…” he finished to himself.

Y/n’s behavior for the past two days was so unlike her that Steve began to question everything. What was going on? Did she need help? Did he do something to offend her?

It wasn’t until an hour into his shift a few days later did Robin confront him about it.

“Okay dude,” Robin began. “You’ve been in a sour mood all morning, what's up?”

“Y/n’s been acting weird,” he told her, knowing the two girls were also friends. “I-I don’t know why, I guess I’m just concerned for her.”

“Have you actually tried asking her?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not that stupid okay?” He jumped up on the counter, resting his hands on either side of his legs. “She slammed the door in my face last time I tried to talk to her.”

“Sheesh.”

“Yeah, I know. And she hasn’t called me at all. She would always call me at night ya know? On day we couldn’t see each other? I don’t know what’s going on with her.”

The bell in the front of the store rang, indicating someone entering the otherwise empty store. “Well you can ask her again,” Robin told him, motioning to the door where Y/n had just walked in.

He jumped off the counter immediately, fixing his shirt as she walked up to the counter. “H-hey how are you feeling?” he asked her.

“Fine,” she dismissed, barely making eye contact with him. When she finally glanced up, she was looking over his shoulder. “Robin, would you mind helping look for a tape?”

His coworker glanced at him for a moment before going back to their mutual friend. “Sure, yeah.”

Steve watched as they walked off toward the romance movies leaving him completely dumbfounded. What happened that was so bad she wouldn’t even look at him? As he contemplated to himself how to get his friend back to normal, the front doorbell rang again.

El and Max strode in, giggling to themselves as they made their way in front of Steve. He groaned when he saw them. “What do you two shit heads want?”

“Pump the brakes, dude, we just came in for a tape,” Max said with attitude though he guessed he deserved it.

“We already paid for it,” El chimed in. “Robin said it was here?”

He looked over to where Robin and Y/n had walked off to. Only Robin was visible from behind the shelves and he couldn’t make out a word or what she was saying. By facial expressions alone he could tell they were talking about what was bothering Y/n and it pained him that she wouldn’t tell him any details.

“Earth to Steve?” Max called out, making him realize he had been staring off, not answering the kids in front of him.

“Sorry, uh, I’ll go get it from the back,” he mumbled, walking away.

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. But over the past two years of getting to know Y/n, it’s like he couldn’t remember life before her. The air felt lighter with her around, her presence never failing to put a smile on his face.

So when that all suddenly disappeared, it felt like his world was falling apart. He had to know what he did. He had to know how to repair their relationship. Because if he doesn’t, well, he don’t know how he’ll survive.

By the time Steve emerged from the back room where the reserved tapes were kept, Y/n was gone and Robin say chatting with the girls from behind the counter. The stopped talking as he approached.

“Here, girls,” Steve said, sliding the tape across the table.

“Thanks,” El said with a smile. She took the tape, both girls turning to leave.

“Hey, Red,” he called out. Both of them turned around, but Max knew the nickname was directed at her.

“Yeah?” Max said, slightly annoyed. He could tell she just wanted to leave and watch their movie.

“What did Y/n need help with on Saturday?”

Max’s eyes furrowed, her nose scrunching up. “Saturday?” Steve nodded to confirm. “I didn’t see Y/n Saturday, I was with Lucas.”

“Oh,” he said, the pieces forming in his mind. Y/n lied to him. Actually lied. They had never kept things from each other but to flat out lie to get away from him? Steve felt more hurt than ever before. “Never mind, I must be remembering wrong.”

“Okay…” Max said, still confused. Nevertheless, she turned back with El, leaving with their movie.

There was a rage bubbling inside Steve and it felt like he finally reached his boiling point. As the door closed, the bell above it ringing out, he pivoted on his heel to Robin. She was still sitting behind the counter on a stool, looking down at a book she had brought to read during their shift.

“She lied,” he announced.

Robin looked up confused. “Huh?”

“Y/n, she lied to me. When she left my house she said that she forgot she needed to help Max with something but she didn’t. Max said she was with Lucas.”

Robin raised an eyebrow, a knowing look across his face. He knew her long enough to know she was withholding her opinion.

“She told you, didn’t she? When she came in?” Shrugging, Robin ignored the question. “Come on, what did I do?”

She titled her head at him. “You really don’t know, do you?”

Steve sighed, hopping up on the counter. He rested his hands on either side of him at the edge. “No, I don’t.”

Rolling her eyes and with an unapologetic tone, she asked,” When was the last time you saw her?”

He shook his head, “Saturday.”

“No, Steve, what was the date?”

Today was the 16th so working backwards….Steve’s eyes went wide. “Shit,” he cursed. “I asked her to hang out on Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, dude.”

“Fuck, were we on a date?”

“I mean, her extremely attractive best friend who she’s been in love with for like ever, asked her out on the most romantic day of the year. How was she not supposed to think it was a date?”

Steve rubbed his hands over his face. How could he be so stupid? How could he make such a careless--

“Wait,” he paused, looking up from his hands. “She’s in love with me?”

“Well, yeah,” Robin said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s been crushing on you since forever, did you not know that?”

“Of course I didn’t know that!” He hopped off the counter, surging toward her. Robin’s shoulder shot up in surprise as his hands landed on her knees. “I-gosh I messed up, Robs. Big time.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” she replied, pushing his hands off of her.

He stumbled back, raking a hand through his hair. To think, one of his closest friends liked him, and he was oblivious. He had been crushing on her from the first time he laid eyes on her. He still remembered it like it was yesterday.

That little shit Henderson showed up at the Wheeler house, forcing him to come look at his basement at the demodog he stupidly was keeping at a pet. Y/n was there, his babysitter apparently. It was already dark out as they approached Dustin’s house, flashlights in their hands as they approached the basement doors.

Y/n was sitting there with her own flashlight, waiting for help as she tapped her foot against the ground. When their lights shined on her, she stood up. Steve felt like the wind was knocked out of him. She was a natural beauty, that was for sure. The way she stood so sure of herself, so confident in every choice she made. It was hard not to fall for her.

And in the days, weeks, years following, she only proved more lovable. She laughed at his stupid jokes, the ones the kids groaned and moaned over. She noticed when he wasn’t feeling well, remembered obscure things he was sure he had only brought up once. Steve had only started dating other girls to distract himself from the fact he could never be with her.

To think not only she liked him back, but they had already been on a date? It made him feel awful in ways he didn’t think possible.

“Rob,” Steve began. “I gotta make it up to her. I-I can’t lose her, she’s the best thing to happen to my life.”

Despite his anguished look, Robin smirked. “I think I have an idea.”

To say Y/n was having a tough week would be an understatement. She didn’t expect the rejection from her best friend to hurt this much. But there she was, a week after Valentine’s day, canceling yet another coffee morning with Steve.

She had barely seen him since that day she stopped by Family Video, and was thankful that she didn’t need to see him in the following days. Work had been borderline unbearable

Y/n had barely been home for five minutes after her Friday shift when there was a pounding at her door. She recognized the banging immediately as Robin - it was not the first time this week she had done this.

“I know you’re home, L/m! I saw your car in the driveway,” Robin said, muffled slightly, by the door.

Sighing, Y/n walked over to the door, swinging it open wide. Her friend was quick to walk in, not waiting for an invitation. “You’re interrupting my ice cream dinner,” Y/n told her.

“No ice cream tonight!” Robin exclaimed. She pointed a out a finger. “No more wallowing over some stupid guy.”

Y/n crossed her arms. “That guy is both of our friends.”

“And he is still stupid. Nance invited me to a party, and you’re going too.”

Groaning, she said, “I don’t think I’m up for that tonight.”

“Well tough luck!” Robin surged forward, pushing on Y/n’s shoulders until she was forced to take a step up the stairway. “You’re going.”

Maybe Robin was right. Maybe a party was what she needed to get back on her feet. A night out with her friends, to get stupidly drunk and take her mind off things for a while. Knowing Robin wouldn’t stop pestering, Y/n reluctantly let her push her up the stairs.

Before she knew it she was dressed, standing outside a house she didn’t know. It didn’t really matter when a party was happening. If you knew there was a party you could show up, didn’t matter if you knew the person hosting it.

It was loud as they squeezed through the propped open front door, music filling their ears at a deafening level.

“Nance and Jonathan said we’d meet upstairs!” Robin yelled over the noise. “We’ll group up there and head down together!”

“Sounds good!” Y/n yelled back, desperately trying to grip Robin’s hand in an attempt not to lose her. The house was so crowded she was afraid if she let go, she wouldn’t find her friend again.

Robin seemed to know her way around the home, quickly navigating to the stairs. They climbed over a couple making out at the base, squeezing to one side to pass people descending from the second floor. The sounds of music grew softer the further up they went, less people making it easier to walk.

They were finally able to speak at a reasonable volume. “She said it was a guest room,” Robin informed Y/n.

She only nodded in response, still blindly following her friend. Robin opened a door, ushering for her to go in first. She was right it was a guest room, and she didn’t like the guest she saw in it.

Steve was perched on the edge of the bed. He was hunched over, playing with his hands as they rested against his thighs. When she walked into the room, she stood up.

Y/n felt all the color drain from her face. She turned around without thinking, trying to find an escape. Robin has already closed the door behind her, locking it. Still Y/n turned the door knob, hoping that with rapid tugging it would magically open - it did not.

She banged on the door with an open palm. “Rob, let me out, you can’t do this!”

“You guys need to talk!” Her friend shouted back, and Y/n knew there was no point in begging an further.

She slowly turned back around, a pit in her stomach. This was not how she wanted to face him. So soon, so suddenly. She tucked her hands behind her back, leaning until she was flush with the door. Looking at him was proving to be harder than she thought, but when she finally gazed up at him, she could see he moved closer. His was still fidgeting with his hands, swaying back and forth between his feet.

“I’ll be back later!” Robin yelled for the last time, footsteps slowly fading from earshot.

“I don’t know why Robin thinks she needs to lock us in a room to get us to speak,” Y/n elected to say, looking back down. Maybe ignoring what she felt would make their problem go away.

Steve scoffed. “Maybe cause you haven’t spoken to me in over a week. When was the last time we went that long without communicating?”

A beat. It was silent, the only sounds coming from the party still raging on outside. Y/n didn’t know how to respond to that. He was right, of course, but saying it out loud proved to be too much.

“I’m sorry,” he continued. “I didn’t realize it was Valentine’s Day and I should’ve known better—“

“It’s fine, really,” she said with a shrug, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible. The quicker she dismissed the misunderstanding, the quicker they could go on and forget how much she embarrassed herself. “It was stupid of me to assume it was a date anyways.”

When he didn’t say anything return, Y/n looked up. He was looking down at his hands, his eyebrows furrowed as his forehand scrunched down. She knew him well enough to know he was trying to gather his thoughts.

“Ever since Nance,” he began and Y/n thought she could die right there. Of course he was brining up his ex. They were all friends now, sure, but the mention of her in the context of his love life still made her grimace. “Ever since we broke up, it’s been hard for me to see the signs that a girl likes me.”

Oh, this is how he was choosing to let her down easy? She felt her cheeks reddened, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. She would give anything to leave, to run out of this room and never speak about it again. But of course, the door was still locked behind her.

Steve continued. “Even when I was actively on a date or hitting on a random girl at Scoops, I just never got my groove back….I think it’s partly because I was trying to get over you and I thought it would make me feel better.”

Something in Y/n’s brain short circuited as the words left his mouth. “W-wait,” she stopped him. He looked back up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time that night. “You liked me?”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers as he took a step forward. “I never stopped. Which is why I am so, so sorry for last week. I really hoped when we ever went on a day, I would be smart enough to know that it was one.”

Despite the hurt that he had caused, despite being angry with him for over a week, Y/n couldn’t help but let a small smile form on her lips. A small chuckle came out with it. She looked up at him. He was taller than her, standing a few inches above her own height, but that didn’t inhibit her from looking into his eyes.

“Do you really mean it?” she asked him, her voice soft despite being the only two in the room. “Cause I-I don’t think I can get hurt like that again. You’re one of my best friends and I can’t lose you-“

She couldn’t finish her sentence as he leaned in. The taste of shitty beer filled her mouth as his lips slotted against hers. His woodsy cologne taking over all of her sense of smell. Steve’s hand rested on the small of her back, slightly pushing her into him as his other hand rested against her cheek.

Y/n thought that this is what princesses must feel like when they finally kiss their prince. The overwhelming sense of completion, like they didn’t know a part of them had been missing until that very moment. He took over every sensation of her body, like they were becoming one with every movement of his mouth against hers.

When he pulled away, she couldn’t help but sigh at the loss of contact. Steve’s breath, still strong with beer, was against her as he stared at her from mere inches away. She found she couldn’t speak, couldn’t form a sentence. By the way he was smiling she knew she was blushing hard.

“You’ll never lose me,” he said, the hand on her back rubbing small circles to sooth her. “I’m yours, okay?”

Y/n smiled again, forcing herself to nod. “Okay.”

“Sooooo,” he began, drawing out his words. “Does this mean you can be my valentine?”

She chuckled, leaning down into his chest, the fabric of his shirt soft against her cheek. She could feel his lips pressed a kiss on her hairline. Gentle, tender, lovingly. Looking back up, she did nothing to hide her smile. It etched across her face, her lips turning upward.

“Yes,” she said, “I’d love to be.”

Their mouths reconnected so quickly, she barely had time to finish her words. She could feel Steve grinning against her mouth as he used on hand to cup the back of her head. The other found its way to her waist, pulling her flush against him. Lips danced in unison, slowly exploring each other’s mouths, but Y/n couldn’t help focus on the growing bulge pressed into her thigh.

Smirking, she pressed further into him. Steve groaned as she practically grinded into him, making him stumble back slightly. But Y/n didn’t stop there. She kept pushing, moving him back until his calves hit the edge of the bed.

It one clumsy motion, Steve fell back, pulling Y/n with him. They both yelped as they hit the mattress, bouncing lightly before their bodies sunk in. Y/n placed a hand above his head to stop herself from falling onto him, her legs on either side of his body. Steve’s hand was still wrapped around her back, now clutching at the fabric of her shirt.

After they finally settled in, the mattress becoming still, they couldn’t help but laugh. Steve’s head fell back as he chuckled, his neck stretching up so enticingly. Y/n wanted to suck there, find what made him tick. That spot that would make him crumble under her touch.

Looking back into her eyes, she said, “I could get used to this view.”

Grinning, Y/n replied, “You and me both.”

She was about to lean forward, to kiss him on the part of his neck she so desperately wanted to feel when she heard the turn of the door lock. Y/n and Steve’s stares shot to the door, watching as Robin began to walk in.

“Okay has everyone made up- oh my god!” Robin covered her face. “My eyes! My eyes!” She shut the door without saying anything more.

Steve groaned, making Y/n turn back to him. He had his eyes closed, eyebrows scrunched as his head fell back against the mattress. “Oh we’ll never hear the end of this,” he said.

Y/n slumped back against the bed next to him, the sheets creasing inward at her weight. “No, I don’t think we will.” She couldn’t help but let out an exasperated laugh. “I’m sorry it’s not funny.”

Steve chuckled, tiling his head to look at her. “It kind of is, we almost gave her a heart attack.”Y/n laughed again, pulling a hand up to cover her mouth. “She could use a little scare with all the Vickie shit she put us through.”

“Oh I can still remember those days before their first date.”

“It was like a tornado went through my house.”

As their laughs faded, she couldn’t help but stair into his eyes. They were so beautiful, despite being just a plain brown. To her, they were as rich as the coffee they drank most mornings. As warm as the setting sun when she would get off of a shift, Steve waiting to pick her up in his BMW. She could stare at them for hours on end.

“We…we should probably go back to the party,” Steve said reluctantly. “Before she starts blabbering.”

“Probably,” Y/n replied, though neither of them made a move to leave. They stayed on the bed, laying on their backs. Her arm was basically overlapping his and she could feel the most touch of his finger caressing her own. Looking down the length of his body, she couldn’t pull her gaze away from the bulge in his pants. “Will you be okay going back with that?”

He looked down too, realizing what she was talking about. He groaned, like he suddenly remembered the aching problem in his jeans. “Yeah yeah, I just have to think of something sad like hurt puppies or-“

“Or,” she interrupting him, moving closer against his side. She fully clasped her hand in his, bringing up her other to trace a line down the center of his chest. “We can stay up here for a few more minutes. I happen to know a much quicker way to deal with your problem.”

Steve took in a sharp breath of air, his chest rising under her fingers. His eyebrows raised too, like he wasn’t expecting her to be this bold. Without saying anything else, he bolted upright in the bed, making Y/n fall back against the mattress. When she looked up, she saw him running to the door, turning the inside lock to occupied. She giggled at the insinuation, even though she was the one who initiated it.

And as Steve sauntered back over to the bed, leaning over to plant another kiss upon her lips, she couldn’t help but smile at the fact that she was his, and he was hers.

Taglist: @afraidofshrimp @halflifejess @nix-rose @palmtreesx3 @cilliansnostolgia @sweetdazequeen @blckburd

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year ago

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the wall between us

kinktober, day sixteen

a/n: ...yeah, this one is weird, but also kinda wild

summary: pov, you live in a cult where there is an impregnation ritual on your 18th birthday

warnings: steve harrington x reader, smut, cult au (they are both members), cult leader!jim hopper, weird birthday impregnation ritual, public sex, fem gloryhole, breed kink, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, forbidden romance

word count: 773

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

“Always a blessed day when a flower blooms and becomes ready to expand on our wonderful family,” you heard Jim, your charismatic and adorn leader boast from the other side of the thin wooden wall, “now, gentlemen, let us bow our heads and pray, please, grant me the power to deduce who will bless this girl with a babe….” after a moment of dead silence, Hopper broke it with a loud, “ah! I can see it!” the others in the audience rumbled as he finally revealed, “it is you!”

“Me, sire?” a voice in the crowd cut through, sounding completely taken aback.

“Yes, you bear the seed she needs, my child,” his proclamation prompted the other members to cheer loudly as you heard footsteps near.

Laying on your back, legs resting up against the wall, you felt a gust of wind kiss your bottom that stuck out of the meticulous cut-out, indicating that a person had stepped up.

“Hi,” he greeted in a hushed tone, the crowd still bustling from behind him.

“Hello,” your fingers apprehensively fiddled with the fabric of your white dress, crumbled and gathered at your waist.

“Uh, happy birthday.”

“Oh,” you blinked a second, surprised by his demeanour, “thank you.”

“Can I ask you something?” his low voice was clear, though his touch hadn’t found you yet.

“Sure.”

“Are you nervous?”

“A little, yeah,” you gnawed at your bottom lip, “I’ve just waited for this for a very long time… are you?”

“I know I shouldn’t be, but he’s just never picked me before, so…” he admitted, staying quiet a moment before checking, “is it alright if I begin?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” you rushed to say, adrenalin pumping through your veins. You sucked in a sharp breath as you felt his touch ghost over your skin, just your hip, the exposed part of you that was the furthest away from your core. Your fingers tightened their grip on your dress as his gentle touch slowly fluttered closer to your presented pussy, “is it strange that I wish I could see you?”

“Not at all,” he nearly chuckled, “I feel the same way,” his broad thumb came up to brush over your glistening folds, his touch staying ever so light as he tickled your clit.

Just then, you heard a heavy pair of boots come near, “come on, son,” you heard Jim whisper into the man’s ear, “you haven’t got all day,” a threatening aura laced his tone, “complete the ritual,” a callused hand suddenly crept over your skin, “look,” and without warning, a finger plunged into you causing you to gasp, “she’s practically begging for you to pump her full,” momentarily curving his digit, he tickled a spot inside of you that made you shiver, “don’t make me pick somebody else,” though his controlling touch then faltered, parting ways by swiftly landing a sharp slap across your bottom, a hushed yelp bubbling from your lips.

“I’m sorry, sire,” the man quickly apologised, hastily rushing to bury himself in you.

Turning his attention back towards the crowd, Jim then roared, “and the ceremony has officially begun!” boisterous cheers promptly erupted, “soon we will be blessed with more abundance!”

Keeping his voice low, you heard the man whisper as he bucked into you, “I’m sorry, I really wanted to do this differently, take our time…”

“It’s alright,” you breathed, “it’s how it's done…” your whole body rocked with each of his efforts to fulfil his duty. Planting your palm on the wood parting you two, where you presumed his visage was, you couldn’t help but imagine what he looked like… exactly the way his hips snapped into you… had his hair fluttered down to obscure his vision? Was he looking at you and you alone? Because if he looked anything like how he sounded or how he felt, then you couldn’t even begin to comprehend what that could mean, but what you did know was that it enticed you in a way you’d never felt before, “…maybe one day we’ll meet again and there won’t be a wall between us. Will you show me then how you had wished to do it?”

With a low and strangled moan, you felt him twitch inside of you and his movements quickly slow as he filled you up.

“What’s your name?” he asked breathlessly.

“Y/n,” you felt your heart flutter as you stared at the wall, “and yours?”

“Steve,” he whispered, his touch warm as his fingers fluttered over your goosebump-ridden flesh, “I’ll find you, Y/n. I don’t know how, I don’t know when, but I promise I won’t stop till I do.”

#lea’s writing #kinktober 2023 #steve harrington smut #jim hopper smut #stranger things smut #steve harrington x reader #dark!jim hopper #stranger things imagine #dark!steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #cult leader!jim hopper #cult member!steve harrington

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scarisd3ad · 3 months ago

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Jump then fall | Steve Harrington x reader

Chapter two - ‘I wish that you would stay in my memories’

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Summary - after 7 years of being split apart from your childhood friend Steve you return to hawkins after your younger sisters tragic death, and parents messy divorce. But the Steve you came back to isn’t the same Steve you left behind.

My dad and I spent the entire weekend practically dancing around the topic of our fight Friday night. We didn't talk much; I slept in both days; he went to work early; he got home late, and I locked myself in my room. So, Monday morning is awkward. I'm in my room getting ready for school. I try my hardest to stall. Taking forever picking out my outfit (a pair of straight-legged jeans, a white tank top, an old flannel, and my black Converse), brushing my hair and teeth, and ensuring everything's in my bag. Unfortunately, I didn't take long enough because my dad was still sitting at our dining room table (which isn't much of a dining room table) reading a newspaper.

I knew he was waiting for me because he was fully dressed in his uniform, and it was evident that he hadn't just gotten up. I place my bag on the kitchen counter as I say, "You're going to be late," he mutters a quiet "Nope" as he lets the newspaper fall to the table. "Told Flo I was coming in late today" I take out two bowls as I choose what cereal I would like to start my day with. cocoa puffs, obviously. Dad won't eat breakfast unless I force him to. It's not a 'woman should make all meals for men' mentality, it's a 'breakfast is useless, and I won't eat it unless I'm getting it shoved down my throat' mentality. So normally every morning before I leave for school, I shove a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice or water in front of him in hopes that he'll at least take a few bites.

"Cocoa puffs good with you?" I ask as I pour my bowl, "yeah, that's fine" he replies as I go on to pour his as well. I place his bowl in front of him and he immediately begins to dig in while I walk back over to my bowl that is still sat on the counter. "You need a ride to school?" Dad asks, words muffled as he continues to shove spoonful after spoonful of cereal into his mouth even as he talks. "mhm," I reply with a nod as I swallow down a spoonful of cereal.

We both Scarff down our cereal, before attempting to try to make it to my school before the first late bell. Dad parked in front of the front door of Hawkins High as we bid our goodbyes. "Do you need a ride home? Can take my break then if you need me to." I shrug, "Dunno, I'll call you if I need you to" he nods and mutters a quiet "alright, bye love you" I nod as I push open the passenger door and hop out. Just as I was about to sling my bag over my shoulder, two arms wrapped around my waist. I internally groan. I don't like doing the whole PDA thing in front of my dad. It's embarrassing, but because I don't want to upset Shawn, I go ahead with it, anyway. I turn around so I face Shawn. "Where have you been? Haven't heard from you all weekend."

"grounded" I mutter with an eye-roll. he fully ignores the fact that my father is sitting in the vehicle behind us as he presses his lips against mine, trying to initiate a full-on make-out session. I kiss him back; I just don't let it become anything more than an elongated peck. I push Shawn away before turning back around towards my father. Dad could tell I was uncomfortable with the whole exchange that had just happened. Dad's eyebrows raised almost as if he was saying, "him really?" I shrug as I say, "Bye Dad love you" and slam the passenger door shut so he can drive off.

Shawn's arm wraps around my waist as we walk into school. "Don't you ever do that again," I say as we walk through the front doors of Hawkins High. "What?!" he exclaims, almost as if he has no common sense. Maybe all of those football head injuries have permanently damaged his critical thinking skills. "don't ever try to kiss me like that in front of my dad, he's- he's not cool like your dad is" Shawn's dad is in many ways just like Shawn and still hasn't outgrown the 'high school jock' mentality even after having two kids, so he's what most teenagers would consider a 'cool dad'. Shawn's dad has packed up him, his wife, and their 6-year-old daughter so Shawn could try in his words 'to get his dick wet'. they left for an entire weekend so Shawn and I could have 'alone time' My dad would beat Shawn's ass if he ever found out I wasn't at Steph's that weekend.

"Fine, okay," Shawn mutters as we stop at my locker. Before I can even try to open my locker, I'm being pressed against the locker, and his lips are pressed against mine. I didn't care about this kind of PDA at school, because every other couple was doing the same exact thing, but Shawn trying to engage in this level of PDA in front of my father just felt wrong. My arms are immediately around his neck as he deepens the kiss. We're interrupted by the sound of a loud bang against the locker beside mine. We pull apart quickly, both our heads darting to see who had made the sound. Steph stood there with a disgusted look on her face as she rolled her eyes. "God, you guys are disgusting," she muttered as she unlocked her locker.

Steph didn't really like men. We'll she liked Jamie Lockhart in eighth grade, but I'm sure that was a phase. Ever since the last day of eighth grade, she's never even shown an interest in men. She only cared about cheer, her grades, and this senior girl, Taylor Scott. She was tall, on the girls' basketball team, and had long ginger hair.

"Yeah, yeah," I mutter with an eye-roll as Steph takes her English notebook out of her locker. "You want to skip first period? Hang out in my car?" Shawn asks, Steph fake gags already knowing what Shawn means by 'hang out' My eyes wander to my left to see Steve. he's stood by the boy's bathrooms, arms crossed over his chest as he glared in our direction. Was he glaring at Shawn? he had that same jealous look on his face. He couldn't possibly be jealous? Could he? No, he couldn't, especially when I found out last night when Dad plugged my phone back up that he had been fooling around with Nancy Wheeler all weekend long.

"y/n?" I'm pulled from my thoughts. My eyes dart back toward Shawn before muttering, "Yeah, yeah sure."

"We should go," I mutter, pulling away from Shawn's lips. His left hand rubs circles into the skin underneath my shirt. He whines "But-" I shake my head. "I need to at least go to my second period," he hums and quietly nods. "Fine, but can we come back out here after lunch" I roll my eyes. "Maybe"

When I get back into the building, I immediately begin to walk towards my second period, which is English. I walk into classroom 105 and take a seat right smack dab in the middle, close enough to see the board, but not too close to be the center of attention. Steve was sitting in the back with a few other junior friends who failed sophomore English last year like he did. I swear he's trying to fail it a second time, which wouldn't be the first time he's done that. The late bell rings and the teacher, Mrs. Sanchez, begins her lesson. I pay enough attention to grasp the concepts, but not too much attention to be labeled as a nerd.

"Alright for this project I want you to group up in pairs." the whole class celebrates with quiet 'yes's and 'hell ya's.' but the celebration is quickly disrupted by Mrs. Sanchez continuing her sentence. "Pairs that I will be picking, so when I call your name, stand up and find somewhere to sit with your partner" I zone out, as I anxiously await to hear my name. Finally, at about the halfway point, Mrs. Sanchez calls out my name and then pairs it with Steve Harrington. Of course. Obviously, I no longer completely disliked him after our conversation at Friday's football game, but that didn't mean I wanted to do an entire project with him.

I let out a quiet groan, hoping he'd hear it, and decide to let me do all the work. I get up because he is sitting there, leaning back in his chair with a smirk on his face. I pull the now empty desk next to him, so it presses against his, before I sit down. "So, what's this supposed to be about?" Steve asks just as Mrs. Sanchez begins passing out a sheet of paper. She places a sheet right where our desks are conjoined. Both Steve and I race to pick up the sheet of paper, and I win, taking the obviously freshly copied piece of paper into my hands. In big bold letters, the words 'paired essay assignment' is printed at the top with 'graded' in a smaller font just below it. I place the paper down on my desk and write our names and the date at the top.

'Y/N Hopper and Steve Harrington 10/7/83'

"You will compare the books we've read so far this year, 'Fahrenheit 451' and 'To Kill a Mockingbird,' noting the similarities and differences between the two," I read out loud. I know Steve is barely listening to what I'm saying, but I want Mrs. Sanchez to at least see that I'm trying to work with him. I let out a sigh, rolling my eyes before reading out the next sentence. "You can either write an essay or create a poster board" I turn my head to Steve, noticing him staring at a girl seated up at the front, a freshman named Lacie Tompson who was somehow so smart she skipped up to sophomore English. "So, which one do you want to do?"

Steve turns his head, shrugging. "Which is the easiest?" I hum as I pondered. The essay would be easier for me to do all the work, but the poster would be easier for him if he somehow decided he wanted to do some of the work. "Poster, probably," I reply, leaning back into my seat. He nods and replies, "Poster," before beginning to talk to one of his basketball friends.

Once 8th period ended, I raced out to the payphones that sat alone on the side of the school. Ever since I stayed out a little too late and didn't tell my father where I was, he implemented a rule that I had to inform him of my whereabouts after school, even if I'd be back home before him. It was an absolute pain, but I'd rather take the two seconds to call the station than face his wrath later tonight. I push a few quarters into the coin slot before punching in the station's number.

It rings 3 times, bringggg, bringgg, bringggg.

Before Flo answers the phone, as usual. "Hello this is Hawkins police station; my name is Florence. How may I help you?" I let her get out the scripted sentence she's mandated to say before rushing through my own words. "Hey, Flo. Is my dad there? " Flo's silent for a second as if she's looking at the schedule before she replies "No ma'am" I groan. Where could he possibly be at 3:30 on a Monday? "Where is he?" she hums before saying, "Should still be at the middle school if you catch him in time. " I groan once again, rushing out a "thanks" before turning around to see Steve in his BMW pulling up.

"So, we're going to mine or not?" he asks as he rolls down his passenger side window. I groan, hanging the phone back up on the pay phone. I walk over to his car and get into the passenger side, "gotta go to the middle school and ask my dad" I say with an eye roll as I buckled up. He nods, muttering a quiet "okay" before driving off towards the exit. We drive over to the middle school, and Steve parks next to the front door. Letting me hop out and run inside.

I pull the heavy metal front doors open before walking into all so familiar hallways of Hawkins Middle School. There were still a few students roaming the halls, and some still stalled at their lockers as they talked to their friends. I take a left before reaching the large glass door that leads into the office. I could already see the secretary sitting at her desk, pretending to type away at her computer. I pull the door open and walk inside. The woman, who looked to be in her 50s looked up. "Yes?" Her words drew out, almost as if she found my very existence annoying. "Is my dad here? Jim hopper?" I ask. She nods her head toward the principal's office. "he's in Principal Coleman's office. " I nod and begin to walk down the long hallway toward the principal's office.

The principal's office is at the very end of the hallway. Once I get there, the door is wide open. My dad sits in the chair across from Coleman's. He's leaned back laughing away almost like they were old friends. "Dad," I say, both men look up at me. He hums in response like I was just such a distraction from his awesome conversation with Principal Coleman. "Can I go to Steves?" his eyebrows raise before he replies, "Steve Harrington?" I roll my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest "Yes" he laughs, head turning towards Coleman, who then laughs as well. Probably reliving the mortifying moment when my father punched a 13-year-old. "you two friends again?" he asks in astonishment. I shake my head; I could hardly call us 'friends'. I just slightly tolerate him more than I did before. "We have an English project"

Dad shakes his head before saying "mm no, if you need to do this you can do it at home." My eyes widen and my mouth gapes open. I didn't want to do this at my house. It was embarrassing. Our house was embarrassing. I groan, arms crossing over my chest. I turn around, stomping out of the room, muttering curses under my breath. "If you aren't home when I get off, so help me god!" he shouts, which makes me roll my eyes.

When I get back outside, I see Steve still parked up front, with his head bobbing slightly to the music playing out of his radio. I get back into his car, slamming the door behind me. "He said we have to do it at my house," I mutter, arms still crossed over my chest. Steve smiles, nodding. "Yeah, that's okay. Same place?" he asks. I shake my head "No we moved just...y'know that street that goes in the woods?" he nods "Just go down that one. I'll tell you where to go from there. "

The normally paved roads turn to dirt within a few miles into the woods. "Turn down the next road. You'll see it," I say. I don't know why I always felt so embarrassed about the wooden cabin we lived in. It'd be a cool hang-out space if my dad wasn't such a buzzkill. There was barely anyone else around for miles except an elderly couple who lived a few more miles down the main road. Steve nods and turns down the dirt road. A few miles down, my house begins to come into view. "Cool," Steve mutters under his breath as he parks the car on the side of the gravel road. "How long have you guys lived out here?" Steve asks as he gets out of the car. I also get out, slamming the door behind me. "Few years..." I mutter, shoving my hands into my pockets as we walked up to the house. Once we get up to the front door, I take the key out of my pocket, shove it into the lock, and twist it before pushing the door open.

I walk in, Steve following closely behind. I switch the living room lights on as Steve closes the front door. I cross my arms over my chest, watching as Steve's eyes flick around the room. There's not much to look at though. The only things that stood in the living room were a couch, lounge chair, TV set, and one singular picture of Sara that sat on the coffee table. "Um, I guess we can go to my room," I say. He nods and follows me into my room. I push the door open and turn the lights on.

He does the same thing he had done in the other room, exploring the room with his eyes. Suddenly everything about my room makes me feel immature. The baby pink sheets and the stuffed animals that decorated the end of my bed. The photos of Sara and I from when we were younger taped to my walls. I'm scared Steve will make fun of me for it all. But he doesn't pay any mind to the pink or stuffed animals or the childhood pictures I clung to because that's all I had left of my dead sister. He walks over to the collection of pictures and points to one, one that sits at the very edge of the collection. "Hey, I remember that," he says, his finger sitting on a younger, innocent version of him.

We're all sitting on Sara, and I's old porch eating popsicles. somehow, I can still remember every aspect of that day like it was yesterday. I can still remember how the sun blazed down against the pavement, the sugary cherry taste of the popsicle, and how Steve wrapped his chubby arm around my shoulder when my mom brought out the camera. I don't even know why that picture was up there. We had moved into this house months after our friendship had its downfall. Looking at it now makes my chest ache; it makes me feel stupid. I wanted him to look around my room and see I had nothing left of our friendship in it. But somehow, he was able to find the crumbs of our past that were still sprinkled around in my life. I just couldn't let us go, no matter how much of a jerk he was to me.

I wrap my arms around my body muttering "Yeah, me too" under my breath before sitting on my bed. I clear my throat, and Steve turns around, brows furrowed together. "Um, we should get started...right?" he nods, muttering a quiet "yeah" that he paired with an eye-roll, before walking over to my bed and taking a seat next to me.

"I was thinking that um...we could get one of those big poster boards...and, like, put the differences on each side, and then put the similarities in the middle. Kind of like a neater bubble map, y'know?" he nods as he leans back against my headboard. "Yeah. Um, that's good. I can get that poster board tomorrow or something like that" I nod, humming a quiet "Mhm."

The silence got more awkward as the seconds ticked by. We just sit there. The room feels like it gets impossibly smaller. It's been so long since Steve and I had been in a room by ourselves together. We were totally different people, basically strangers. I hate it. "If you want to...you can go home," I whisper, arms crossed over my chest awkwardly. It's not that I wanted Steve to leave, I just wanted this version of Steve to leave. I wanted our old dynamic to come back. We used to never be able to sit in a room this quiet. How did all this happen? Why did all this happen? Why did God feel the need to rip another person I cherished so much away from me?

"Yeah...um I can go. I'll see you tomorrow," he mutters before getting up, the bed squeaking underneath him. As he walks out of my room, the sound of his jingling keys resonates in the air. I strain to listen as his footsteps gradually fade until the front door slams shut and the faint hum of his car tells me he's finally left.

Dad gets home a few hours later. I'm sitting on the couch flipping through channels when I hear the front door creak open. "hey" Dad mutters as he toes off his shoes and puts his keys up. It's not long before Dad takes his usual spot next to me on the couch. "How was work?" I ask as I settle on a channel playing The Shining. He shrugs, grumbling under his breath before saying, "Byers kid went missing," he mutters.

I blink a few times, letting his words sink in. I wouldn't say I was close to the family, but I did babysit for them a handful of times. Will Byers was close with Mike Wheeler, a boy I babysat often, so I saw him almost every time I was at the Wheelers. Will was a shy, nerdy boy. he wasn't the type to run away, but not the type to be gullible enough to get kidnapped. "What?" I ask, brows furrowed as I turn my head towards my father.

"Will didn't come home last night after leaving the wheelers. We think he might have run away or his father took him."

Taglist

@sheisjoeschateau @nothankyou138 @gleefulleve @luluw-20 @skrzydlak @halflifejess @natalie-flo @castleallherown @palmtreesx3

#fanfics #x reader #fem!reader #female!reader #steve harrington x female!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things season 1 #hopper!reader #jim hopper

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thewritersaddictions · 8 months ago

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Christmas Stories 2024 Master List

Welcome to the Christmas Stories 2024 Master List

A/n- There will be some fluff for and during the Christmas time. This is 24 days of fluff, dedicated to the cold holiday time.

Word Count-

Series Master List

Day 1- Joel Miller + Fake Dating

Day 2- Jim Hopper + Kissing under the mistletoe

Day 3- Alcina Dimitrescu + Looking at Christmas Lights

Day 4- Negan Smith + Catching snowflakes

Day 5- Steve Rogers + Sick s/o

Day 6- Eddie Munson + Building Gingerbread houses

Day 7- Koing + Cuddling Together

Day 8- Elijah Mikealson + Drinking hot cocoa by the fireplace

Day 9- Spencer Reid + Celebrating new years together

Day 10- Rick Grimes + Roasting marshmallows

Day 11- Leon S. Kennedy + Opening Christmas Gifts

Day 12- Daryl Dixon + Building Snowmen

Day 13- Steve Harrington + Christmas Shopping

Day 14- Jensen Ackles + Watching Holiday Movies

Day 15- Soldier Boy + Watching Snow Fall

Day 16- Joyce Byers + Baking Cookies

Day 17- Loki + Chirstmas Cruise

Day 18- Michonne + Snow Angels

Day 19- Billy Hargrove + Sleding

Day 20- Ellie Williams + Snowball Fight

Day 21- Bucky Barnes + Slipping on ice

Day 22- Stefan Salvatore + Ice Skating

Day 23- John Price + Decorating Christmas Tree

Day 24- Karl Heisenberg + Babys First Chirstmas

Completed On: (12/24/24)

Posted On: (03/28/24) - (12/01/24)

CS24 Tags-

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mademoisellekeery · 6 months ago

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\\ Red dress & a black tie //

• Pairing: Co-worker!Steve Harrington x F!Reader

•Warnings: Swearing, tiny bit of angst, fluff, first date, proof read, f!reader

•Word count: 1k - (1419)

•Summary: Your Co-Worker/Friend, Steve asks you out on a date, after crushing on him for years, and finally “getting over it”, what could go wrong?

You stood there, stunned. Your face turns into a tomato. “You want to take me out? like a date? like a date date? like a date where we sit opposite each other, sharing a milkshake, end of the night kiss, kind of date?” You say rambling, you knew Steve in high school, well you knew of him, I mean who didn’t right?

He was THE king of Hawkins High, and every girl (and a few guys) had a crush on him, that included you too, but it was a silly girl crush. (A silly girl crush that was still there.) The famous ‘King Steve’ who dated girls like Nancy wheeler or Tammy Thompson, so why the hell was he asking you?

Steve chuckles as his heart races, little did you know this was the day he’d been waiting for awhile now. He had been waiting for the perfect time to ask you out. He’s had a crush on you for months now and he had to do something about it.

“Yes, I want to take you on a date date. Yes to the sitting opposite each other, yes to the milkshake, yes to the kiss, yes to everything.” Steve smiled, as he leaned back on the counter, crossing his arms, he hoped you’d say yes..

ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ ｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ ʚ・ ୨୧・ ɞ

Just a tiny preview of Red dress & a black tie ❤️

Let me know if you guys like it and want to be tagged in the first part, it will be uploaded soon!!

(I do not own stranger things nor do I own any content from it!)

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persage · 2 years ago

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My Best Gift - S. HARRINGTON

I wanted to post it on Christmas - yes, it's a silly fluffy Christmas story- but it was a busy time and now here we are a little late but I still hope you enjoy it.

Summary: Steve is resigned to spend Christmas alone. He certainly doesn't imagine that Robin has planned a surprise for him, much less seeing someone he honestly believed he would never see again and that he misses more than he cares to admit.

Words Count: 3.5 k

Tags: none, just some Fluff I needed on Christmas time. It's silly but I promise it's cute

Steve Harrington is ready to spend a serene and peaceful Christmas, just him, his father's good whiskey and a good action movie. A calm evening, for the first time in a long time without family dramas, parents in quarrels, embarrassing silences or equally embarrassing reproaches. Also without Nancy and her family, but Steve prefers not to think about it. With them he spent the first happy Christmas with a family of his entire life, then he just lost them. Being alone on Christmas day is not sad and it is not pathetic and he has no intention of indulging in excessive thinking, he will enjoy the peace like a grown man.

Like a Harrington.

After wishing Dustin and Rob and everyone else happy holidays, reassuring an unspecified number of people that "No, I won't be alone", giving Robin and the kids his presents, now Steve clutches the remote in his hands and think back to Joyce Byers' unexpected invitation and the way in which for a moment, just one, he has risked calling her mom. He feels pathetic now.

Dinner time approaches, but he has no desire to start cooking, so he shrugs, concentrating on the colorful images that pass before him on TV. He takes a gulp of warm alcohol down his throat, which burns like pure fire and he is about to light a cigarette when the doorbell rings and for a moment he lets himself be taken by the stupid fantasy that it could be his parents, that they have come home to surprise him and he runs towards the door without even realizing it, like a child who hopes to be able to see Santa. His heart sinks into an abyss, a dark place that he didn't even know he owned, when opening the door he finds nothing but darkness and silence waiting for him. He wants to cry to be honest, like a stupid little boy.

But before he can slam the door as hard as he is able, Robin's face peeks out. He doesn't have the chance to say anything because a pair of arms tighten around his neck and he immediately catches a scent that he knows well and calms him down. "Dingus!" Robin exclaimes happily, pulling away.

"Rob? What are you doing here? I thought... "

"Did you really think we'd let you celebrate Christmas alone?"

He raises his eyebrows in defiance, spreading his arms to make room for a series of all too familiar heads and faces and this time Steve has to use all his strength not to be moved and start crying for real, because his real family is here and for the first time he is not alone."Merry Christmas Steve" Nancy says, making her way with Jonathan, a turkey in her hands. She places a kiss on Steve's cheek standing up on her toes and Jonathan squeezes his shoulder and after all that has happened this is enough for him to know that everything is okay, that they are friends, that they can be together without embarrassment or resentment.

"I'll put this in the kitchen" she shouts, smiling at him. Steve lets his gaze slide over Robin, her open jacket, her red sweater and a Christmas hat identical to Max's one, who wears it with a much less happy expression than Buckley. Envelopes of every shape and color protrude from her feet.

"What are you waiting? Will you let us in?" Dustin asks, in a fake annoyed tone, actually smiling to the point that Steve fears his cheeks might come off.

"And your families?" He asks shyly, still fearful that now they might leave again. They enter the house one by one, greeting him, some with a nod, some with a hug. "They'll understand" Max replies, trying not to show satisfaction in seeing Steve so excited.

"You don't get rid of us, man." Lucas continues, bypassing him and entering the house, where Nancy is already beginning to dictate orders. One by one Dustin, Robin, Max and Lucas, even Will, Mike (who would rather be anywhere else) and El file past him. He can't deny it, this is a surprise, more like a Christmas miracle... And for a moment he feels different, lighter, more carefree. Steve Harrington feels happy. He is not used to that feeling during Cristhmas. He looks down at the ground and shakes his head, unable, however, to stop smiling. When he thinks that parade of his people is over and that there are no more intruders to let into the house, he gently pushes the door with a wave of his arm, and turns towards the living room. Before he hears the door close, however, he senses someone coughing lightly, and a voice comes clear and distinct.

"You won't let me in?"

Steve's eyes widen, because he's sure he knows who this voice belongs to and up until now he's been sure he won't be hearing it again any time soon. His breath catches in his chest. In a second he turns back towards the entrance, where the toe of a black shoes block the door from closing.

"Y/n?" He mumbles before meeting your face again. He hurries to open the door all the way back and immediately freezes to the spot. In front of him, wrapped in a black coat, hair scattered around your face and eyes brighter than the stars exactly as he remembered them, you star at him with a faintly hinted smile on your face.

"Oh my god y/n" his voice shakes more than he wants to, so he fakes a a cough, while Robin looks at him knowingly and a sly smile. You star at him for a few more moments, just a fraction of a second, before dropping the envelope and purse on the floor and throwing yourself into his arms. After all it's been a while since you last saw him, before your parents forced you to leave Hawkins and move.

Hardest experience of your life.

You still remember the day of departure, passing in front of your friends' houses, you have flooded your clothes with tears and thought about everything you left behind and the things you never had the courage to say and do. And all these things are now here, in front of you and they are looking at you with the biggest eyes in the world.

Incredulous.

Because Steve Harrington has always been your biggest regret and your only desire.

"Steve." You sigh against his skin, so happy to finally be here that you almost shiver. When Robin Buckley has called you to ask you to join her in Hawkins, she really thought you couldn't do it, given the short time in which she had organized the surprise for Steve. "You'll be his Christmas present!" And you had thought of a joke and you had anxiety until you had Robin in front of you and she smiled and embraced you happily, as if your presence could really be a gift. Yet here you are, with the boy you thought you hated so much as a child, only to discover that you felt everything for him except hate, that never really felt anything but love.

"What... What are you doing here? You should... Be on the other side of the world. I haven't seen you in..." He strokes your hair lightly, then he grabs your face in his big hands and squeezes it tightly to check if you are real. "One Year and Three Months Stevie" And after saying that he squeezes it a little tighter, because he probably just realizes right now how much time has actually passed. You are one of the things Steve tries not to think about, filed away in a corner of his heart where your absence can't hurt him. You wrote to each other in the beginning, even quite often, but then it just became too difficult. He moves away a little, just enough to look you in the eye, and none of you try to hide the surprise and the smiles. Somewhere deep down there are regret and the fear too.

"You are... Changed." he says, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You've gotten slightly taller and your cheeks have taken on color and are fuller than the last time he saw you, when the upside-down chores were slowly draining you. You seem healthier, calmer and happier, safer than you will ever be here. With him.

"You too Harrington look...Grown up. A man"

He doesn't answer and you continue. "I guess being a hero makes you grow up fast" You burst into a nervous laugh and look down at the toes of your boots.

"Sorry, it's just that... I'm nervous" He shakes his head.

"Don't be y/n, this is still your home." You observe him, the words get caught on your tongue, stumble and never come out right.

I love you. I miss you. I wished I was here.

And instead all you can say is "I know things have happened...Bad. Difficult. I.." Steve closes his eyes, trying to erase the images of StarCourt, of the Russians, of Billy. Hopper. You have lost so many things but honestly he is happy about it. When he opens them you're watching him worried, his fingers reach your cheek again, gently brushing it

"Yes but I'm glad you weren't there. I prefer to know you're safe"

You smile, softly, placing your hand on his still firm on your skin. You're about to reply that you wish you were here just to keep him safe but Dustin's voice cuts you off.

"Lovebirds, would you do us the favor of coming here?" Stepping back, he coughs lightly as a blush spreads across his cheeks. "Come on, before someone destroys my house." He leans in towards you, reaching out to close the door behind you, and for a tiny instant, you were numb by the scent of him. The moment soon vanishes as he takes you by the hand and leads you to the room where all the voices come from.

"Steve, you haven't even decorated the tree!"

Nancy says shocked. When her eyes lock on your clasped hands, she just smiles at you sweetly.

"It's not like I exactly expected to spend Christmas like this." He tries to justify himself, earning a series of insults and "You're terrible!" from the rest of the company. "As if you mind," Dustin teases. "I'm the one who minds being here actually" Mike mutters slyly.

An hour later Steve is leaning over the dining table, a glass of white wine in his hands and watches as Lucas and Will attempt to scramble over each other to position the three topper. Robin and Jonathan burst into laugh after noticing they brought the same kind of decorations. You and El are trying in every way to whiten the tips of the tree to simulate snow. Right now, while looking at his friends, Steve again perceives this feeling: pure joy. It's has nothing to do with food, gifts or Christmas lights.

It is more a warmth, something that objects can't bring people. He feels it again, this damned wonderful overwhelming happiness, when, having puffed and abandoned the hard work you've been doing, you look up at him and smile at him from across the hall.

You are here.

You're here, for real and Steve already feels the pain of having to let you go again. But you're here and he can hold you, kiss your hair, talk to you. It's the best gift ever. He still remembers so distinctly the moment he met you, you were just a little thing, so small you looked like a doll running around the garden of his house and rolling with him among the flowers that his mother cared for more than her own son and Steve hated to death. He remembers your little hand hanging a drawing of the two of you on his bedroom wall. He rembers you throwing your head back and laughing by the sea when Tommy and Carol dragged you for a weekend away from the city routine and then you hiding your tears at Barbara Holland's funeral, trying to be strong and breaking down anyway, shattered in front of an empty coffin, devoured by guilt. There is no memory of his childhood or adolescence that does not involve you, or that he cannot be traced back to you. Even after your departure in every memory you are, a distant thought. Now that you're here everything seems to be back exactly as before. And even if he doesn't even know what heaven is, Steve Harrington feels very close to it. The dinner is not as perfect as Robin planned it, but no less exciting. As she studies her best friend sitting next to you, she still can't believe she haa managed to bring you home. You laugh with Nance and Jonathan. Dustin, Will and the boys are chatting across the table. Robin feels like a little girl waiting for her presents and always leaving a plate of cookies and a glass of milk by the fireplace.

In the imperfection of her life and the difficulties that her family has to face, she has managed to do something great for Steve and this is the most precious gift in the world. If everything they've been through has brought them here, Robin is ready to face it all again. There is nothing she could want more then her dingus being in peace. You wake up abruptly, still upside down from the jet leg, in the living room, lit only by the tree surrounded by colored lights.

You must have collapsed just a few hours ago, curled up on Steve's couch - specifically next to him, surrounded by his perfume - and now you see your friends curled up in their sleeping bags scattered around the room, each too tired to even notice they're asleep on the floor. Shifting the blanket someone must have wrapped you in after you fell asleep, you decide to use it to cover Max, lying on the other side of the sofa clutching one of the large pillows to her chest, her hand left dangling down to where Lucas promptly reached out to squeeze it . With all the delicacy of which you are capable, you place your feet on the floor and try to get around the various sleeping bags scattered along the room. Luckily, you manage to make it to the kitchen without waking anyone – not that they could have woken up anyway – but noticing a light on.

Before you can even think anything, your eyes met the figure of Steve who has his back at you, wrapped in a burgundy sweatshirt and wearing a pair of shorts. You've missed seeing him so calm, so relaxed. You just missed him to tell the truth, more than you expected.

"What are you doing up?" You ask in a low voice, leaning an arm against the counter and waiting for him to turn around.When he does, he runs a hand through his messy hair and smiles at you.

"I can't sleep" he explains to you, placing a cup on the counter. You catch the movement and narrow your eyes. "By chance is that...?"

"You caught me." He raises his hands in surrender.

"Hot chocolate. Oh, God... You shouldn't have done it without me it's pur thing Steve!" You scold him, silently approaching and trying to suppress a grin. Chocolate has always been their ritual during the endless study afternoons, spent doing everything but study.

"I am sorry... "

"Now, my dear Harrington, I shall be forced to take serious measures."

You threaten. Before he can do anything, you've gotten very close and managed to grab onto his hips. You begin to tickle him when he tries to move, but you're faster and let your hands slide under the sweatshirt, on the abdomen and Steve is shaken by a series of irrepressible laughter. "I give up, I give up!" He almost screams, grabbing your wrists and finally managing to stop you.

"What do you have to say in your defense?" You lift your chin to him, closer than you've ever been all evening, and your smile fades as you notice Steve's eyes roaming over your lips tracing them with his gaze. Just do it. Please . But don't speak, in fact your breath catches in your chest. Everything is exactly like in the good old days.

Immediately he releases your wrists.

"Steve" You mumble confused by whatever is going on, this is enough to bring him back from the trance he seems to have fallen into. Steve turns and leans towards the top right locker where he keeps his cups, with his back to you. "A cup of hot chocolate on the way." He mutters, you try to suppress the sigh you feel growing in the center of her chest. "I missed you, you know?" You confess with a half smile, going to sit on the opposite counter, continuing to observe his back. It's nothing new, you know what there is between you, affection, Devotion but sometimes it's feels like it could be so much more it actually hurts.

"I would have liked to keep in touch, to contact you more often..." He starts.

" I know it. It looked wrong. ridiculous. I get it, really." you interrupt him. He still won't look at you. "I'm glad you're okay." You continue."I'm glad you're okay too. Thank God you are safe. I would die if everything ever happens to you Steve." Only now he turns around, hitting you with the intensity of his gaze "I missed you too. You don't know how much, princess" As soon as you hear that nickname, that stupid nickname he gave you years and years ago, your heart skips a beat. And you blame the memories, you blame Christmas and the distance, for what you do afterwards. While Steve walks up to you carrying the hot cup, it's easy to take it out of his hand and place it behind you. It's easy to grab hold of his fingers that you know as your own and bring him close, just as it's easy to stare at him from below without letting go. The easiest thing, however, is to close your eyes. Close your eyes and wait, as you have done since you were twelve, when you finally understood that there is no person in the world more similar to you, more suited to you than stupid Steve Harrington. And that's why, in the end, you fell in love with him hard.

The long-awaited kiss reaches you, the only light that remains is the sensation of this moment, imperfect as it has always been between you two, but nothing less than exceptional. You sense the initial awkwardness, which, of course, has nothing to do with inexperience– Steve seems born to kiss ypu and make it seem like the simplest thing in the whole universe. It's an embarrassment that says "you've been my best friend since before I even remotely looked like a girl, but now you want me and I want you and here we are" and likewise you feel it fade, giving way to an ease you haven't felt with anyone else.

The romantic side of your mind suggests it's because he knows you better than any other guy.

Steve, who has leaned over your legs stretching his neck towards your face as if a natural thing, moves his left hand towards his side, and only now you suddenly realize you want him closer, you need him. Therefore you surround his waist with your legs and cling to the collar of his sweatshirt, devouring his mouth in a need that has been ignited since he held you in his arms in front of the door. Despite the desire, however, you are this is Steve you are kissing now and you must know what the hell it means to him before doing something you could regret. In the same moment in which Steve starts to move away slightly, you do it too and finally open your eyes.

"I wish I hadn't waited a year to be able to do it." He whispers softly, letting the fingers of his right hand get lost behind your neck, in your soft hair. And it's enough for you, for him and for everything you've never said.

For now, that's enough.

"You've always been slow Harrington"you scold him, trying with all your strength not to smile at him, "Give me a good reason to stay Steve" He leans down once more to kiss you.This time, you both smile.

This time you will never leave.

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unamused-boss · 1 year ago

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California Dreaming

Another Billy Hargrove fanfic... yes I know what a surprise...

Billy Hargrove x reader

Summary: Max and Billy could only agree on one thing in common.... and that was you. You were their neighbor when the lived in California and Billy had the biggest crush on you. Plus it helped that you babysat, more like hangout with, Max. You were his California dream.

Part 2 is out! Go to my page pls

.......................................................................................................................

When Max and Billy were moved to Hawkins Indiana they knew they were loosing one of the few best things they ever had. You. Ever since Max moved into Billy's home in California, she had the pleasure of having you as her neighbor. From what started as a babysitting gig turned into a friendship.

Billy on the other hand. Having lived next to you for a majority of his life was absolutely in love. He'll admit love is a strong word but you were just breathtaking to him. When his mom was still around she always tried to get him to talk to you. Finding it absolutely adorable watching him try to talk to you at the nervous age of eleven. As he grew up, and more handsome, he found it much easier to talk to you. Still fumbling here and there though. Now in Indiana all Billy could think about was you.

"So you guys are really moving." You said. You and Billy were currently sitting on your front porch over looking the street.

"Yeah... to some shit hole in Indiana." Billy spit out.

"Hey it won't be that bad." You comforted. "Once you graduate you can come here with me." Hearing you say those words made Billy's heart leap. You've done so much for him.

"You mean that." He smiled.

"Definitely." You replied. Having grown up with Billy you have seen many fazes of his life. You remember how sweet he was, well he's still sweet but only to you, and how he got flustered over small things sometimes. You saw the destruction that his dad had caused upon not only him but also his sister. There is so much you wish you could do. Now Billy and Max is being taken away from you.

"What am I going to do with out you?" Billy questioned. "I don't like anyone else as much as I like you."

"You'll make new friends B." You laughed. Billy just rolled his eyes at you.

"With who cows? Rednecks?" Billy stated. "I wanna stay here so bad."

"I know you do Billy but things happen." You rubbed his arm.

"Well it feels like shitty things only happen to me." He retorted. You knew Billy had a short fuse. It came with his vulnerability and constant state of survival.

"Shitty things don't happen to you." You reassured. "Plus does that make me being one of the shitty things in your life." You tried to joke with him. He chuckled lightly at the attempt.

"No you're not. You are the greatest thing to ever happen to me."

"Well don't give me to big of a head Hargrove." You giggled. "Enjoy what you got right now Billy, you leave in a week. And I don't know when I'll see you next after you move." You scoot closer to Billy. Looking out at the pink and orange sky as the sun set. It was like a dream.

Your words had stuck with Billy. After next week he will never see you again. He'll be on the other side of the country, you'll be gone. Your smile will be gone, your laugh, the conversations, coming over to "watch Max", movie nights, all of it. He can't just leave you. He has to tell you how much he cares about you. At least take you on a date. You've seen him with multiple girl as he's you with guys. Which he hated. If being your boyfriend will only last for one week he will grab that opportunity by the balls.

Billy stood up abruptly to face you, you look to hime with confusion and shock. He took a deep breath in and "Y/N. I have known you my entire life, and you are by far the most beautiful person I know. I have been to chicken shit to tell you but I like you. Damn... maybe even love you. But even if it only for a week I would love to take you out on a date and be your boyfriend." It was done. He said it. Billy Hargrove finally confessed his feelings to you. You sat still for a minute then... you laughed? Oh no, you think he's a joke now don't you. 'Good job pussy, now she thinks you're an idiot' Billy thought embarrassingly.

"I would love to Billy." You said.

"What?" Billy snapped his head to you.

"I said yes." You said once more." Jeez, I thought you were proposing for a moment."

"Oh, well it might have been much." Billy felt the heat on his cheeks rise. Just then you stood and walked over to Billy. Placing your hand on his shoulder; leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek.

"How about tomorrow at seven." You said.

"I would love that, we can get dinner then go to a drive in if you want." Billy suggested.

"I would love that. Don't be late." You said as you walked up and into your house. Billy has never been more happy. He probably would have skipped home from excitement. When he entered his house Max saw the smile on his face. Well everyone in the house could, it was not like it was going away anytime soon.

"Did you do it?" Max asked.

"What?"

"Did you ask Y/n out or not?" Max said, elaborating.

"Shut up Max." Billy said before going off to his box filled bedroom.

"I am taking that as a yes." Max concluded. She was happy for him, but sad at the same time. He just told his crush his feelings then has to leave them. She is going to miss watching Billy fumble in front of you at times. At least he'll be a bit nicer to her in the next week. 'I'm gonna miss Y/N...' Max thought sadly.

Now being in Indiana, Billy was right it is a shit hole. His dad has been more on his case about watching Max and everything else in his life. The kids at school already cling to him; from being both new and from California. As Billy pulled into the high school parking lot for him and Max to get out at, he looked to Max.

"Alright shit-bird. Be out buy 3:45 or you're on your own." Billy pointed to her. She rolled her eyes to him.

"Fine." Max sassed to him as she got out of the car and slammed the door shut. Billy looked to his watch and saw he had a few minutes before he had to go in. He pulled his cigarettes out to take a quick drag. With said cigarette hanging from his lips Billy hastily looked for a lighter. Looking everywhere, then grabbing his sun visor in hopes he stashed it up there. Once the visor was flipped down and out something hell out of it. A polaroid. Not just any but the Polaroid you took on your first date with Billy. You took as many as you could in the week you and him had together. This polaroid being the only one he took with him when he moved. It was a picture of you and him in a booth at the restaurant he took you too with you giving him a kiss on the cheek. He remembers it like it was yesterday. You asked your waitress to take the photo for you; as Billy stood for the photo you grabbed his collar and placed the kiss on his cheek. The act causing both of you to bust in a fit of laughter right after. Billy wonders what you're doing right now. He wishes he was with you. Billy didn't realize that he was staring at the photo for to long till the first bell rang for school. Billy huffed carefully put the picture back into place, put his cigarette away got out of his car to make his way to school.

You'll always be his California dream.

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damn-stark · 1 year ago

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Chapter 1 Who’s that girl?

Chapter 1 of Stargirl

A/N- I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT!!!

Warning- Swearing, angst, fluff! SLOWBURN, long chapter.

Pairing- Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Episode- 2x01

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

“What do you think?” He asks as he takes a bite from his burger.

What do I think? Well…dearest father, it’s the most rural place we’ve stayed at, it reeks like cow manure, there’s only one high school here for the entire town so if the desire to change schools occurs it can’t happen unless you are willing to drive me like an hour out of town…

Then again you’ve never actually went to an actual school with people your age. Since you move around a lot you’ve always been homeschooled with either your father or grandmother as your teacher, so there’s little you think you’ll complain about…maybe just lack of friends, or uh…overpopulation of assholes. Yeah, that’d be a deal breaker.

“Well,” you sigh and put your burger down. “It’s something. Uh, grandma was right, it does stink. But,” you pause and shrug whilst you meet his brown eyes. “It’s cozy. It’s quaint.”

Your dad chuckles and looks out the car window. “Quaint? Yeah, yeah. But it’s home,” he grumbles with low enthusiasm. He also wasn’t a fan of...Hawkins? Yeah that’s it, Hawkins—Even if he was the one that grew up here.

You hum and lower your sunglasses to the bridge of your nose to take a better look at all the greenery that lays ahead of you. At least that’s one of the pros of moving out here, this place is green, there’s trees everywhere, you even live by a lake! You’re used to city landscapes so trees, lake houses and small towns are like blue moons; Rare and quite beautiful.

“Are you gonna go see uncle Jim?” You ask your father and throw a fry in your mouth.

Your dad hums for a moment before he lets out a deep breath. “Yeah,” he answers hesitantly. “I’ll surprise him at work.”

You drift your gaze to the corner of your eyes and see him with his jaw clenched which never means anything good, so you don't press on that touchy subject and put away your food. “I’m too nauseous to keep eating.” You throw your head back on the headrest and groan. “Maybe I can go with you, or go organize the house?”

Your father had people go move everything in and organize everything before you got here, but going to school with so many people is upsetting your stomach, and making your heart and mind all panicky and fast moving.

“House is organized, and I’m going to work,” your dad says and blinks to meet your gaze.

“Yeah,” you huff, “a job which consists of sneaking around and talking to people.”

“Today,” he corrects you. “But still, after all that sneaking,” he mocks you. “Then it’s a lot of talking on the phone, computer shit, and filling out paper. You hate that stuff. So, you go to school, make some friends, see if any of the teachers remember me—”

“They can’t remember you if they’re dead,” you grumble and bounce your eyebrows. “You are ancient.”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “Just…have fun,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

You roll your eyes and groan out dramatically so he knows you’re bugged. You then proceed to rest your arms over the open window, and rest your chin on your clasped hands to pout.

And it’s at that very moment that you look through the rear view mirror, that you catch the gleaming brown eyes of a guy with the best brown styled hair you’ve seen a guy wear. He has nice thin pink lips, he’s tall from what you can notice, and slim but not super scrawny, he’s like, perfectly built, like Tom cruise! Yeah, that’s right, he’s like a Tom cruise type, only this guy is a lot cuter.

You shouldn't have been able to notice so much in that little time he passes by, but the funniest thing is that time seemed to slow down a bit.

Albeit he was walking around with some brunette girl so he didn’t care about you.

“So you ready then?”

Maybe now that you’ll be in somewhat of a stable living condition you’ll get a boyfriend! Maybe a guy as nice looking as that guy that passed by.

“Kid?” Your dad calls out again and nudges your arm.

You snap your eyes over to him and quirk a quizzical brow. “Huh?”

He snickers. “Ready to go in? I have shit to do.”

You sigh and lift your chin off your hands to take your sunglasses off your face and put them away, even if it goes with the mini black dress, and the black knee high boots over the tights. It may be a lot for school, but…what do girls wear to school?

“Let’s go,” you mumble and hide your nerves.

Once you get inside the school it’s when the stares all direct at you, no one is shy to look away especially because your dad is walking at your side, and well you are the new girl. It makes you feel like you’re under a spotlight, or like you just got in trouble and have to be escorted to the principal. You try to ignore the wandering stares as best as you can, but they do make that knot in your stomach only feel worse.

You would’ve hooked your arm around your fathers, but you were already getting talked about and stared at so you just dig your nails on your palms and stick by your dads side the entire way to the front office. When you do reach that office, just as your dad is going to open the door for you, some guy with a blond mullet, a denim over denim outfit, and a creepy smirk holds the door open for you.

“Thank you,” you tell him.

The guy shoots you a wink and then looks you up and down before you walk past, making you scrunch your nose in disgust, and then look back at your dad with a teasing smile once the guy is gone.

“That is a guy you wanna stay away from,” your dad whispers to you.

“Were you one of those guys daddy?” You ask him.

Your dad shakes his head. “Nah, I was nerdy back then. I was picked on by the guys that looked like that. Your uncle always got in trouble ‘cause he stepped in to protect me.”

You smile softly since this is one of the rare times he talked good about his half older brother; same dad but they had different moms.

“I wonder if those same guys would pick on you now,” you retort with a smirk.

Your dad scoffs softly. “I’d like to see em try.”

“How can I help you two?” The front office lady asks, cutting off your conversation with your dad.

“Yeah,” your dad agrees and turns to face the young red head—or well she isn’t young, but she is younger than the other lady across from her. “Actually, it’s my daughter's first day of school today, I came to sign some papers.”

The lady’s eyebrows lift as she now realizes who you are. “Oh, the new senior, okay. Just a moment let me grab those papers for you now.” The lady gets out of her seat and walks to the cabinet at the other end of the room.

“Here,” your dad directs at you and turns to hand you your backpack he had been carrying. “Remember I’ll pick you up after school so don’t try to sneak off somewhere,” he says with a feigned stern tone since he really doesn’t mean it. He just likes to sound authoritative with you in front of other adults.

You playfully roll your eyes and nod stiffly. “Sure, sure.” You swing your backpack over your shoulder, but now, hoping he’d change his mind and let you stay home now, you part your lips to ask, but then the door opens and that brunette girl that was with the cute guy walks into the office alone.

She’s very pretty, and has a very prominent jaw, like the kind the celebrities have. Is she senior too?

“Here they are,” the lady returns and presses the papers on the counter for your dad to sign. “Will you be the main parent to contact, or will it be the mother?”

You look at the red headed women and then glance at your dad.

“No, no,” he chuckles and begins to fill out what was highlighted on the sheets. “It’s just me. No mom.”

The lady lowers her glasses to check out your dad and slowly sits back on her chair. “If it’s just you and her then why move all the way out in the middle of nowhere.”

Your dad shrugs. “Just wanted to give my girl a calm life, we’ve been around a lot so I, uh, wanted to give her a more simple life like how I had back in my prime.”

The lady smiles and leans forward to bat her eyelashes and show more of her cleavage to your father—She wouldn’t be the first. It’s weird, women hear that he’s a single and caring father and the ladies swoon.

He doesn’t fail to notice it either, he always likes to flirt with women this way because he says it’s the simplest trick in the book; showing he cares about his family, and showing off that he was a caring single dad. He also says that when you were a baby women would swoon and flock around him.

Do you believe that? Hardly.

“We encourage every student to take an extracular,” the lady says but keeps looking at your dad. “Here’s what we have open.” She places another piece of paper on the table and points to the top labeled ‘activities’, and then drags her pen down to mark the women’s sport section.

When you look at what they have for sports though, all the shit is lame for women.

“You should give band a try,” your dad suggests. “Play the trumpet like your old man.”

You hum and shrug. “Eh, how about women’s soccer?” You look up at him to meet his gaze. “I could try that considering there’s, like no boxing or you know stuff like that.”

“Did you come to Hawkins?” The lady interjects and pulls your fathers attention away.

“Yeah, I did, a long time ago it seems like now. I’m Rowan Hopper.” He reveals.

The lady’s eyes go wide and she has to take off her glasses to…look better?

“You’re related to Chief Hopper?” She probes with a curious look.

Your dad nods stiffly. “Yeah, he’s my older brother. Half-brother. Did you go to Hawkins?”

You roll your eyes and circle the sport you want to enter and slide the paper back to the lady. “Here,” you cut her off to continue this progress before you last here all day.

The lady blinks and drags her eyes to you and sighs before taking the paper. “Okay, I’ll tell the coach. Practice is every Tuesday and Thursday after school.”

You hum in agreement and push yourself back from the counter since you’re done.

“Here’s your schedule,” the lady says and shows off a sheet of paper with all your classes on it.

When you take it she gets up and walks around the counter to reach the same brunette girl. “This here is Nancy Wheeler, she’ll be your chaperone for the day. She’ll show you to your classes.” She feigns a smile, and you meet Nancy’s gaze to shoot her an awkward tightlipped smile.

“That’s all we need, you’re free to go, thank you,” the lady continues and now gets closer to your dad to actually grin. “Come back whenever you want, I can show you around if you’d like.”

You stifle your teasing laugh, and catch Nancy’s amused look that matches yours at the sound of the lady being so bold with your father.

“I might have to take you up on that offer,” your dad retorts with a small smile before he turns to meet your gaze. “I’ll see you later kid.”

You let out a deep breath and nod stiffly. “Okay.”

He begins to back away, but first pulls his finger close to the corner of his lips, and then curves it upward to motion you to smile.

You scoff at his speechless message and offer him a tightlipped smile.

He doesn’t like that response though, so he repeats himself, causing you to sigh and offer him a sweet smile.

“Good, good,” he says and reaches the door. “I’ll see you later my dear, have a good first day.”

You offer him a small goodbye wave and a sadder look. “Bye daddy.”

Said man shoots you a smile before he turns and walks out of the office, leaving you with your guide Nancy now.

“Okay,” she cuts in and walks over to you. “I can show you to your locker, it’s right by mine.”

You look over at her and nod in comprehension before she leads you out.

It’s quiet between you and her for a few seconds. You haven’t really had many friends, or had the time to talk to anyone your age, so it’s hard to know what to talk about, but you try.

“Are you senior too?” You ask her.

Nancy steals a quick glance and shakes her head. “No, I'm a junior, but we share a lot of the same classes. And well, we don’t get many new kids here but when we do, helping them is extra credit.”

Ah a big shot. Your dad told you about people like her. He was once like her too, so you can’t say they’re terrible people, actually she's the kind of person you should be friends with.

“Ah, well, thanks anyway,” you exhale and look around at all the gawkers watching you like if you’re their next meal. “This is my first day at an actual school, so I,” you giggle nervously. “Would be completely lost.”

“Actual school,” Nancy quotes with a curios gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Well…” you pause and avert your gaze. “I’ve been homeschooled almost my whole life until now.”

Nancy’s already big eyes go even wider, and her lips spread to a faint amused smile. “Wow, that’s interesting. Why the sudden change? I mean you’re a senior, you’re almost done with school.”

To avoid exposing what little you do know about your dads mission here at Hawkins, you shorten your short version. “Well…my dad came here so I said why not give it a try? Get the high school experience before I can’t.”

Nancy hums softly and nods along. “Nice. Well I really hope you like it, even if coming here isn’t so exciting.”

You laugh softly, and slow down to a stop alongside her as she walks to a pair of lockers. “Well, you know I’m actually looking towards the slow boring days,” you share with her, and surprise yourself because you are sharing.

You aren’t shy, or you don’t think you are, but you also didn’t think you’d be diving so deep with someone yet. “My dad and I move around a lot, in and out of the country for his work, never too long anywhere so I’m actually excited for the mundane stuff that Hawkins has to offer.” You add.

Nancy blinks and peers back to meet your gaze with a spark of interest that twinkles in her eyes and shows off a small smile. “Well you put it that way,” she mumbles and turns to open her own locker. “Then it’s hard to argue.”

You hum and look at your paper to read the number of your combination. You do know how to do that so you open it with ease, but as you do, from the corner of your eye you catch the cute guy from before sneaking up on Nancy from behind. He catches her by surprise and wraps his arm around her neck before pressing a kiss on her cheek.

Nancy giggles and squirms away from his touch, letting you shove nothing in your locker since you actually don’t know what you need yet, it’s just awkward to watch them, so you just look at the empty and small locker.

“Hey, y/n,” Nancy calls.

You shut the locker door and slowly turn to face her and him.

“This is Steve…”

So that’s his name? He looks like a Steve.

“Steve, this is the new girl, Y/N, she just transferred from homeschool, she’s actually a senior too.” Nancy introduces and plasters a small smile on her face.

The guy throws his hand up for a stiff greeting, and then lifts his chin. “Hey.”

You draw in a deep breath and smile softly. “Hey,” you exhale, and find yourself holding his gaze for a moment before you pull your eyes away and look at your schedule. Unbeknownst to you he keeps his gaze on you for another lingering second.

“Well, I’ll catch you later Nance,” Steve interjects. “I need to grab something from my locker. I just came to say hi.”

Nancy gives him a comprehensive response before he presses a kiss on her lips, letting you know the status of their relationship. He in fact is not single….

“Come on,” Nancy directs at you now and points her head down the hall. “I’ll show you to your first class.”

The walk there is short but is now filled with silence. You would have tried to fill it, but one, you are very much disappointed by him being taken, even if you weren’t going to try something either way. And two, you also can’t speak because of your never ending set of racing nerves that riddle your body. It’s why when you reach your class you step just to the door, and then pull your head back to watch Nancy get out of sight before you rush to the bathroom just down the hall from the class.

Thankfully no one else is inside so you face the window and exhale deeply.

Today shouldn’t be so hard, you tell yourself—it’s like another day at your dads office…those rare times he gets to go—

Only these aren’t adults but kids your own age, judgy kids who haven’t stopped looking at you.

You stick out like a sore thumb here! It’s awful—but you’ll get over it, it’ll be okay. You’ll make friends, go to class and blend in.

You’ll live a normal life for however long you last here.

Isn’t that what you’ve wanted, what wished for afterall? Stability? An ounce of normal in your hectic life?

Well this can be it, stability.

You exhale again, and pull out your lipgloss to apply one more coat before you walk out and head back to class just as the bell rings in the somewhat empty hall. The only one also walking the hall is Steve, and he seems to be walking to the end of the hall where your class is.

Does he have the same class? Hm?

And just as you think about him he looks back and finds you, but he then looks back ahead quickly. A couple seconds pass and he looks back again; does he have something to say or what?

You’d move but you have the same class so you stay and keep walking behind him.

Steve peers back once more, so you scoff this time and throw him a comment. “I’m not following you if that’s what you’re thinking.” You open your schedule and point to the first class. “See, same class.”

Steve turns around to walk back and face you. “Never thought that, but now that you are showing me, did homeschooling not teach you how to hold a paper right? Aren’t you people supposed to be wicked smart?”

You blink rapidly in disbelief and scoff as you turn the paper around the right away. “Did homeschooling not teach you how to hold a paper right?” You mock him.

Steve narrows his gaze on you before he rolls his eyes and feigns a dry laugh. “Real mature. Guess you just proved me wrong.” He teases with a playful smirk.

You shoot him an unamused glare and quip back. “You started it, now I’m heading to class.” You huff out and pick up your pace to walk past him.

“Yeah?” He scoffs. “Well me too.” He picks up his own pace to beat you to the same class.

You roll your eyes in annoyance, but you also can’t help but smile faintly at the ground before you walk in your first class.

——

*LATER*

Lunch, a break between classes before the rest of the day. It’s not as different as home, albeit usually you did eat lunch with your grandmother or your father, and the food was…uh…way more appetizing than whatever slob they give here.

Regardless, pushing that plate aside, Nancy. You asked if she’d like to have lunch with you so you wouldn’t sit alone in the cafeteria in the middle of all the other students with clics of their own, but, well she isn’t here. Nor is her boyfriend. It’s been 10 minutes now too. Perhaps she’s just running late.

Or she just doesn’t want to talk to you and pretended to be interested in what you had to say between classes….

Yeah….that sounds right—but! You’ll give her the benefit of the doubt and keep waiting.

Eat? No, you’ll bring your own food next time.

Think about going to, “Tina’s Halloween bash.” And get “sheet faced”? Yeah, it sounds promising. Cool. You've never been to a high school party so it should be cool, especially because it’s a costume party!

Maybe you can be—well that’s still up for debate, but it should be cool. Maybe you can even make more friends, considering the one you wanted to be with isn’t showing up. Great.

Maybe being outside will make you seem less like the new girl. At least you won’t be gawked at as much anyway.

Thus you push yourself off the bench and pick up your tray. Yet just before you can turn away from the chair a plate slams on the spot across from you.

You slowly lift your eyes and notice a guy with long brown hair, a leather jacket over a band shirt, and kind brown eyes.

“Hello, new girl and welcome to Hawkins high!” He greets with a wide welcoming grin.

You slowly sit back down and offer him a small smile. “Hi…” you mumble.

The guy rests his elbows on the table and then rests his chin on his hands before leaning in. “I’ll tell you my name if you tell me yours.”

You squint your eyes and feel your lips tug to a wider smile. “Y/N?”

He narrows his gaze and picks on that. “Is it y/n? Or are you messing with me? Or are you just not sure, I’ve heard you’re homeschooled.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head. “I was homeschooled, not kept from learning. I’m just….unsure.”

“Unsure?” He quotes and picks his head off his chin. “About what? Me?” He points at his chest.

You shrug. “You know you just come here, leather coat, long hair like Ozzy Osborne, I just need to be cautious.”

The guy's eyes go wide and his smile widens. “Don’t shit me girl, you know Ozzy Osbourne?”

You narrow your gaze and furrow your brows in confusion at his question. “Yes. Why shouldn’t I?”

The guy looks you up and down and then points at your dress. “Because you’re dressed like that?”

You chuckle and nod. “Yeah, I guess lookwise I kind of give a different perspective, but, that’s why you can’t really judge me based on my looks.” You shrug playfully.

The guy chuckles and then smiles softly. “You’re right. So y/n—”

“First,” you cut him off. “I gave you mine, now give me yours.”

The guy holds your gaze and shares what you ask for. “Eddie. Eddie Munson.”

You shoot him a sweet grin. “Well thanks Eddie for taking time from your lunch to talk to me.”

“Well,” he says and picks up his plastic spork. “You looked lonely so I came out of pity.” He smirks.

You feign a laugh, but then go serious. “You are joking right? Because if you aren’t, this makes things weird.”

Eddie snickers and nods. “I’m messing with you, but really I came because you did look lonely.”

You mess with your food and sigh. “I was waiting for my guide who agreed to lunch but she bailed.”

He hums and then takes the orange flier from the table. “You got invited to this thing?”

You hum in agreement. “Yep. This girl was just handing them out so I took it.”

Eddie’s eyebrows begin to knit together out of cursoity. “You goin’?”

You shrug. “I don’t know, depends if I can come up with a last minute costume. Are you?”

Eddie slams the paper down and shoves food in his mouth. “I’m too much of a loser to be invited to one of those parties.”

“What?” You quip. “Loser? Really? I don’t see it.”

“You,” my friend he says and swallows his food. “Haven’t been here long, so let me tell you, me and my friends. The band geeks, some of the school newspaper people, and you know all that stuff, are considered losers here by the jocks and everyone who has enough of daddy’s money to buy themselves some friends.”

You set your utensil down and look around at everyone having lunch before you look back at Eddie. “I can’t say I agree with you, I’ve been homeschooled my whole life up until now. All my school experience comes from tv and my dads stories. If I go to that Halloween party it will be my first highschool party ever, but from what I’m experiencing now, I think you’re cool. I mean besides Nancy, you’re the first person who’s bothered to have an actual conversation with me.”

Eddie’s offers you a half smile and nods slowly. “Thanks. You’re cool too, especially because you know Ozzy Osbourne. But I don’t want to taint you, you’re new, pretty, you can have cool friends.”

You nod. “Yeah, but will they actually be genuine if all they care about is my looks, and my daddy's money, as you say?”

“Guess that depends.”

You hum softly and take the flier from the table to shove it in your backpack.

“But can we rewind and touch on the fact that you haven’t gone to a high school party before?” Eddie points out, making you cover your face and grow hot out of embarrassment.

“I told you,” you remind him. “I’ve been homeschooled. My dad moves around a lot for work, so as to not keep moving schools, he just chose to teach me, and let my very strict grandma teach me. I can’t really make friends and go out if I’m hopping on a plane every other month.”

Eddie leans over and slams his hands on the table. “Well you my friend are going to crash that party with me.”

You put your hand down and slowly begin to smile with joy. “Really? That sounds like fun. I'm down.”

——

*LATER*

Much of the second half of school was quite boring, a lot of stuff that the teachers talked about is stuff you already learned so it serves mostly as a reminder. Which…can be useful for tests…

That girl Nancy, showed up after stranding you at lunch and did not forget to throw apologies, saying that she forgot she was going to help her boyfriend study, and that she literally forgot about lunch. It doesn’t make a good impression to you’re already cautious mind, but you ignore the warning and let it slide.

It’s not like you have much options anyway.

And now home. Your dad got home and went off to report, type, and write about his mystery day. He has failed to come out of his office, so you’re left to your own devices. Which consists of staying in your living room watching tv and doing homework, you’re just not used to so much space, it all feels…forbidden. It just doesn’t feel like it’s yours yet. You’ll give it time though, soon your mind will come to terms that your current house is more than just a square.

Albeit there is one aspect that does make you grasp how big your house is, and that’s how lonely it all makes you feel. Usually you’re content knowing that your dad is in the room next to yours, but now you’re in the living room and he’s upstairs, far, and closed off in his office.

He didn’t even come down for dinner.

Maybe you should pay him a visit. Cure yourself from this loneliness.

“Hey,” you call softly. “Dad.” You tap your fist on the door again and press your ear against the door.

A few seconds pass before his voice travels out. “Come in.”

You slowly open the door and first peak your head inside. “You missed dinner,” you say as you watch him spin around on his chair to face you cautiously stepping in his office. “So I brought it for you.” You walk in fully and show off the plate.

The corner of his lips tug upward slightly. “Thanks,” he mutters while he watches you walk in.

“How was your day?” You query whilst you study his office and look out for anything that will clue you as to what he’s been doing today.

Your dad takes the plate from your hand and actually redirects your question. “How was yours?”

You narrow your gaze and stay quiet for a few seconds, finding his avoidance off, but not questioning it too much yet. “It was…” You sigh and shrug. “Cool. It’s weird.” You smile. “Going to class. Being around so many people my age. I mean some classes are quite boring because I already know what they were teaching, but…I think I like it. I like school.”

Your dad hums softly. “That’s good baby. Wh-what about that chaperone girl?” He wonders. “You make friends with her? She seemed nice.”

“Yeah,” you agree and lean against the wall. “She was nice but she was kind of…weird…she was in and out. At times it feels like she does wanna be my friend, but she then pulls away. Is that normal?”

As your dad takes a bite from his sandwich he drops his gaze and blinks slowly. “Well you're basically strangers, give her some time. Get to know her. Invite her over, or I don’t know, hang out.”

Yeah he is right, you can’t have her be your bestest friend in a day. Maybe you’ll see her at the party, or-or maybe you can hang out the day after! That’d be nice.

“Get this though,” you add excitedly and dig in your sweaters pocket to pull out the party invite. “I got invited to a halloween party!” You hand your dad the paper so he can look at it, and then fiddle with your fingers. “Could I go?”

“Hm,” he hums and then swallows back his food and scoffs in amusement. “Sheet-faced. That’s…funny.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “Not so creative, but can I? I met a guy, he said he’d accompany me. He’d even pick me up.”

Your dads gaze lifts at the mention and rather than picking on the fact that you mentioned a boy, he begins to smirk. “Sure, you can go.”

You beam and clap. “Yay.” You run over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “I thought of my costume already…drum roll please!”

Your dad puts the plate down and pats his hands on the handles of his chair.

You skip back away from him, making him follow you with his eyes.

“David Bowie!” You announce. “More specifically, a costume he wore in his The 1980 Floor Show. The one with the nets and fake hands.”

Your dad grabs his plate again and smirks. “I’ll like to see how you pull that off for tomorrow.”

“Don’t doubt me, I can do it. I’ll be the best dressed one there!” You clasp your hands together and swing them down. “Now my keys! Please.”

Your dad sighs deeply before spinning around and swiping your car keys off his desk. “Just be careful, okay? No drinkin’, or you know pumping music to loud.”

Just as you’re about to snatch your keys from his hand you look at him with a growing smile. “Pumping music?” You repeat as you begin to giggle. “Dad?” You shoot him a playful glare.

He throws his hands up and finds nothing wrong with it. “What? I heard someone say it!”

You burst out laughing harder and swipe your keys from him. “I’m gonna go pump music in my room now,” you tease him and laugh louder as you begin to stride out of his office.

Rather than staying in his office your father follows after you whilst he eats his sandwich. “Mhm, I love tomato stems in my sandwich.”

You peer back and click your tongue. “Shoulda made dinner than. Besides vitamins…can’t having you lacking at work. Who’ll keep up with my expensive taste then?”

“College fund,” he muffles with his mouth full of food. “Or drugs. It’s a growing business.”

You giggle and walk into your open room, and throw your keys on your bedside table before you stop by your bed and just look at it.

With all the moving around for his work you’ve actually never had a bed of your own. Never one you can pick out pretty covers for, never one to say “yeah that’s my bed”. You can’t complain about motel beds, or rented homes, but they don’t compare to this, this was yours, your own.

“Now,” you whisper and take your slippers off to jump on your bed. “Tell me,” you add with a grin. “How was your day?” You drag yourself further on the bed and cross your legs to bounce on the bed.

It’s so soft and bouncy, not hard whatsoever. It smells new too, not used and washed by cheap soaps.

“I met with Jim,” he finally shares. “It was…uh…awkward at first, but it was…nice I suppose.”

You scoff and pat the empty space beside you. He doesn’t fret, he puts his plate down and takes the seat beside yours.

However he then gets up and runs to the entrance. You’re about to question him, but he then turns the light off and hurries back to his spot. “Lay back,” he orders.

Your eyebrows furrow, but you don’t question him and do as he asks, seeing he lays back too. Yet seeing him do it only confuses you more.

“So, we—”

“Look up,” he cuts you off.

You draw in a deep breath and flicker your eyes up to the ceiling. That’s when you gasp as you see glowing stars slowly brighten.

“I just thought I’d make this feel like home,” he whispers and turns his head to look at you.

The gesture wasn’t big, they were silly stars that glow in the dark, something for kids, but it means a lot to you that he remembers.

“Do you like them? Or are they embarrassing now?”

You smile in awe and tilt your head down to meet his gaze. “I love them daddy.” You grin happily and look up at the glowing stars again. “Maybe we should have dinner with uncle Jim. Mend what’s broken?”

“I offered,” your dad says with a sigh. “He shut me down, but I did meet up with an old friend, Bob Neeby.”

Oh, right, his nerdy best friend.

“He invited me for lunch tomorrow.”

You hum softly in comprehension, “that’s good. You won’t have to hang out with me all the time now.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “It is weird.” He jokes.

You laugh softly, and then let a comfortable silence take over but only for a little while.

“So,” he breaks the short silence in a more serious tone this time. “I think this will be my big break.”

Your smile falters as you hear him share what you’ve been after.

“You remember the lab I told you about?”

You nod slowly.

“Well,” he continues. “This lab it’s crazier than I was told. It’s more than just experiments. Get this…a boy is presumed dead, there’s a body and everything, but a few days later he comes out alive and it’s like nothing happened. And a few days after he disappeared, a girl disappeared too around the same area, but she didn't come back,” he sighs.

“I spoke with the parents and they say that she was caught up in something that leaked from the lab. Or that’s what Jim told ‘em. But the weird thing is that there’s no body. She just disappeared close to the lab,” he says almost excitedly.

You let out a shaky breath and slowly look at him with a scared frown. “You believe the leak is true?” You ask in a frightful voice.

Your dad sighs and shakes his head. “No. There’s something more going on. There’s unexplained deaths, missing files…unsolved calls. Someone’s covering shit up,” he deadpans. “I’m here to take it all down though. End it all. There’s evil in that lab. I’ll set things right.”

“And after?” You bring up with hope. “Do we get to settle down?”

Your dad lets out a deep breath and nods. “Yeah. After this we stop moving. I go back to Washington, we find a good home there and we just live.”

You turn your gaze back to the stars and can’t help your hopeful smile. “Promise?” You ask.

“I promise,” he assures you.

183 notes · View notes

marrowfrog00 · 9 months ago

Text

You Stir My Natural Emotions

A/N: Hi, this is a post I made a while back on my Ao3 and since I'm dragging ass on writing anything new...I thought I'd rest on my barely-there, crusty, dusty ass laurels until inspiration strikes or I put my back into actualizing my idea-rs.

CW: MDNI, Smut (characters are 18+), Mentions of Trauma, Broken Bones, Misunderstandings, Idiots in Love, Quarreling, Canon Typical Violence, Flashbacks, Descriptions of female anatomy, Oral (f receiving), P in V, Protected Sex, Adaptive Sex, Mentions of deceased grandmother, Not formatted b/c fuck that r.n., lmk if I missed anything

wc: 13.9k

Steve’s polo was pasted to his back with the sweat of high Midwestern summer. He glanced back at his Bimmer, parked behind Nancy’s station wagon, more than a little uneasy at the prospect of leaving it on the narrow shoulder of the county road.

His destination, an unauthorized swimming hole with a somewhat rickety, decommissioned dock, didn’t have a proper parking space. Not like the well kept county-owned lakeside park on the other side of the water. That spot had designated parking but would no doubt be littered with desperate, unadventurous families trying to beat the heat.

People unlike his friends, who frequented the busted but perfectly functional East shore of the lake.

He bushwhacked through noxious weeds and nettles, feet seeking out the half-worn path that would take him to the meeting spot. He reached the little bluff, where he had to cut little switchbacks to make it down the hill without breaking his ankle. When he reached the last tree stand he heard the rowdy voices of his friends carry across the shallows of the lake.

And just in time, too - the polyester and mesh of his swim trunks were chafing him under his Jordache jeans.

He could see the backs of Robin’s and Eddie’s heads in low seat beach chairs. They were clandestinely passing a flask between them while Nancy and Jon sat on a blanket beside them, Nancy rubbing sunblock on her boyfriend’s shoulders, pausing to push her sunglasses up the bridge of her nose.

She noticed Steve’s approach, head shooting up with a bright smile. “Hey! You made it!”

Eddie, Robin and Jon’s heads shot up in reaction, each of them shooting him a half-enthused greeting.

“What took you so long, dingus?” Robin crowed, clearly half-tipsy.

Steve scoffed, pulling his polo over his head and tossing it by the cooler.

“Well, someone called out today and I had to stay on an extra hour and a half at the store waiting for coverage,” he sniped back with no heat. Robin blew a raspberry at him.

“Strip down, Big Boy, you’re wasting daylight,” Eddie shot lazily. He stretched out on his beach chair, limbs quaking at full extension like those of a freshly-awakened cat. His chest was on full display, the white cast of badly-applied sunblock streaked across his tummy.

Steve rolled his eyes - there was nothing if not daylight to waste, the sun smiling at them all meanly from high in the sky.

He shuffled his jeans down his legs before kicking them in Eddie’s face, who expertly dodged the attack with a guffaw.

Over on the dock, Max and El lay shoulder-to-shoulder on their stomachs, giggling over a glossy magazine while Mike and Lucas hollered off the edge, filling their super soakers from the dock’s edge. Will was buried in a sketch pad, toes dipped in the water.

Steve’s hands were planted on his hips as he did a quick headcount. A force of habit these days. He narrowed his eyes in search of the missing two.

“Where are Dustin and Teenie?” he asked, noting suspicion in his own voice. The very two people he always had eyes on (if he could help it) were missing from this idyllic tableau. Nancy craned her neck to look toward the lake.

“They’re in the water,” she said as if it were obvious. “They’ve been in there forever.”

Steve felt his stomach clench uneasily but tried to school his expression into something nonplussed as he started toward the dock.

“Why is she in the water?” he muttered to no one in particular, noting the worried pitch in his own voice.

He saw the four heads of his nearly-adult friends turn toward him in unison as he walked past them.

Robin chimed in then, through a hiccup “Psh, she’s fine Steven. We reinforced her.”

Steve ignored her.

Max and El glanced up at him, muttering uninterested twin-greetings to him as he stepped gingerly between them. Will let him scooch past.

“Hey!” came your voice. “Do not shoot water in each other's mouths, this water is stagnant,” you barked. “That’s guaranteed dysentery.”

“Sorry,” Lucas and Mike responded in unison.

Finally, yours and Dustin’s forms bobbing in the water came into view. Dustin was sputtering and rubbing his face with the hand not holding his own super soaker, clearly having been on the receiving end of Lucas and Mike’s attack.

You were a few feet away from him, straddling a neon orange pool noodle.

You were wearing that infernal bikini…the spring green one with ditsy white flowers and an underwire that smooshed your bust into a juicy-looking sculpture shaped by the hands of an unfair, horny god.

Your hair was damp around your face. Even behind your red cat eye sunglasses, you appeared unimpressed until you caught sight of Steve and beamed at him.

“Stevie!” you squealed.

He didn’t waste another moment taking in the sight of you before he shoved off the dock and waded the short distance over to you and Dustin.

“Hey, Steve!” he heard Dustin greet sweetly. Steve ignored it, leveling his gaze at you.

“Teenie, what the hell are you doing in the lake?”

Your pretty smile fell at his words. You hesitated a moment before you fixed your face into a sardonic expression.

“You’re looking at it, Stevie.”

“Your arm, Teenie! Your cast!”

Steve didn’t notice how every head had turned toward the two of you at his little outburst. At that, you pulled your left arm out of the water, where it had been obscured. It looked like Swamp Thing, dark and soggy, water running off of it in rivulets. Steve saw that it was covered in a black rubbish bag, secured with silver duct tape (plus a derelict shoe lace) at your elbow.

“It’s sorted, Stevie.” Steve heard conciliation in your voice. “The plaster’s bone dry underneath, ya happy?”

No, he wasn’t happy.

Frankly, Steve didn’t care who had rigged the dry bag around the cast securing your fractured ulna. If he had, his money would have been on the braintrust that was Eddie and Robin, but who knew with this ragtag group? It wasn't as though the lot of them hadn’t crafted a bevy of improvised weapons and structures and clothing in the past.

Steve’s blood was boiling. He shouldn’t have had to tell you to stay out of the water, you should have just known.

Yeah, lake day had been your idea, but he’d had a very different design for this day in his head when you’d proposed it.

He thought the kids would splash around in the shallows while you and him (plus the other four sort-of grown ups) lounged at the water’s edge.

The two of you would lather each other in sunblock (you with your good arm) and share a beer or two, and he would stare discreetly and shamelessly at your half-naked, prone body behind the safety of his Ray-Bans while some sappy love song played over the boombox and he pretended you were his and he wasn’t tap dancing around his feelings that he'd only sort of started realizing were feelings and-

“Steve,” you uttered sharply, snapping him out of his daydream.

Right. He had been busy giving you the business about reckless swimming.

“You’re a terrible swimmer on a good day,” he scolded. “You really think you can hold your own with one arm?” he reasoned, gesturing at your form.

You pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head and glared at him, unimpressed.

Dustin chose then to speak up, mildly. Steve almost forgot he was there.

“We’re touching the bottom, Steve. We’re being safe, we’re touching the bottom,” he tried with a chord of desperation.

Steve looked between the two of you. A nasty little smirk on your face threatened to emerge.

“Yeah, we’re touching the bottom.” You demonstrated your point by bouncing up and down on your toes a few times. Steve had to ignore how your boobs bounced with the motion. “And I have this, for buoyancy,” you added, smacking the end of your pool noodle into the water and sending a spray of water into Steve’s face.

Dustin cackled suddenly at Steve’s sputtering. Lucas, Mike, El and Max joined the hysterics shortly thereafter. Will hid a snicker behind his sketch pad.

It should have broken the tension. It should have been the hard reset on the fun that Steve had almost ruined with his poop-pantsery.

“What about Dustin?” Steve tried then. He was feeling outnumbered here. And a little stupid, frankly. But righteous. Like, how the hell was he supposed to feel when he leaves the lot of you alone for one afternoon and the two (arguably) most vulnerable people are just hanging out with no one to stop you drowning?

Dustin’s blue eyes grew big and confused at the mention of his name. You looked at the young curly-haired boy reflexively.

“What about ‘im?” you shot back.

“He doesn’t have collar bones!” Steve barked, gesturing at the boy.

Dustin looked a little hurt by the observation, true though it may be. Steve winced a little at his own insensitivity and immediately wished he could walk it back. “Sorry, bud,” he offered.

Dustin seemed immediately appeased at his correction and shrugged as if to say “no problem.”

You weren’t ready to let it go, however. A mean guffaw escaped from the back of your throat before you replied “Dustin is fine. He’s a very capable swimmer,” you spat. Unlike me, Steve heard you mutter snarkily under your breath.

You flicked Dustin’s nose lightly and winked at him, and he preened under your attention. All the kids did. You had that way about you, is all.

Sensing the tension on the water, Eddie, Rob, Nance and Jon were stood up on the shore, looking on with mild concern.

Steve noticed you noticing them and then you shook your head and declared “Know what? I packed sandwiches and nobody has touched them, so…andiamo.”

With that, you abandoned your pool noodle and lifted yourself out of the water and onto the dock by your good arm.

I would have helped her, Steve thought to himself bitterly, watching you drop hard on your knees before getting to your feet.

He sated his need to help by pushing Dustin onto the dock by his butt, much to Dustin’s annoyance.

A bit later, everyone was seated on the shore, the last of the sandwiches having been polished off.

The tension had waned for everyone else and the ambient murmur of jovial conversation had returned.

Eddie was seated at Steve’s side, yammering in his ear about a road trip he wanted to take with you all sometime next Spring.

But Steve’s gaze was trained on you, across the circle, engaged in quiet conversation with Nancy and Robin.

You had pulled your shorts on, leaving them unbuttoned over your bikini bottoms. Your oxford shirt with the sleeves cut off was unbuttoned, billowing open down to your navel. The trash bag had been removed from your arm carefully with the help of the tiny scissors on Dustin’s swiss army knife.

You smiled wryly at some joke that Robin had made. Your face was free of makeup, eyes a little tired, but sanguine.

“Ya listening to me, Stevie boy?” Eddie asked, cutting through Steve’s haze.

“Sorry dude,” Steve shot back mindlessly, willing himself to pry his gaze away.

Eddie merely sniggered at his friend’s lack of manners. “That was quite a spectacle the two of you put on earlier.”

Steve scowled at him, knowing damn well what he was talking about, but choosing to feign ignorance.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

Eddie was unbothered by Steve’s pretend-game, continuing, “Like, you two guys pitch each other a lot of shit and it's usually good natured, but lately it's been…” Eddie sucked on his teeth as he pondered the right adjective. “Sticky.”

“Ed, man, shut up.”

“Nah,” Eddie said on a deep inhale. “Figure your shit out, Harrington. It’s embarrassing.” Eddie sunk back down into his chair.

“Teenie Ween’s always been a sweetheart as long as I've known her but lately, you've been bringing out the worst in each other and it's exhausting.”

Steve’s face scrunched up in confusion, pondering Eddie’s cryptic words.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said absently, though he didn’t know what he was sorry for.

Eddie just smiled back at him from behind a pair of aviators.

Soon, the sun started to dip and everyone was a little sun drunk and over the day. Belongings were packed and the troupe of you made it up the bluff and through the thicket of overgrown weeds, back to the road.

(⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠)

It was the transportation arrangement that really clinched the awkwardness of the outing.

Nancy had hauled everyone to the beach earlier that day, sans you. You had been dropped off by a boy called Allen Miles and the mention of his name grated on Steve’s very spine.

Before you and Steve could devolve into another bitching match, Nancy pursed her lips and made a sound declaration that Steve would drive you, Dustin and Robin home.

Nevermind that her station wagon would still be stuffed to the gills clown-style. And you wouldn’t even have the buffer of El at the ready since she was staying at Max’s house. You fought her on it, too.

“Does dad know you’re staying over with Max?” you asked her, almost pleading with her to give you a reason to pull elder sibling rank on you.

“Yes,” she hissed back at you haughtily. You deflated, knowing that you would be dropped off last.

Maybe you could pretend to fall asleep during the ride so you didn’t have to deal with Steve alone.

Looks were exchanged and car doors were slammed before you all set off into the twilight. Robin, who typically called shotty, practically shoved you into the front seat of Steve’s car. You didn’t want to make a scene in light of the day’s events, so you went without quarrel.

Dustin and Robin droned on in the backseat about…something. You couldn’t have recounted even a smidgen of their conversation with a gun to your head.

You were focused on Steve next to you, seething. You could feel it coming off of him.

Your jaw clenched as Robin fixed you and Steve with an exasperated look that you could see in the side view mirror before leaving you with a cheeky adios!

Dustin took up the mantle of filling the silence but soon enough, you were parked in front of the Henderson residence.

The boy parried a moment before seemingly deciding he couldn't say or do anything to pop yours and Steve's acidic little bubble. The pair of you watched his mom greet him at the door before pulling away.

The thing was, today hadn’t happened in a vacuum. You and Steve had always gotten along pretty famously as far as your friends and built family were concerned. Certainly enough to make it through a world of unconscionable shit alongside the rest of them.

But when reality as you all knew it was falling to pieces, nobody had the presence of mind to tune into the frequency that the two of you were on. They didn’t notice the intricacies of the geological formation of your relationship.

You had materialized - yes! materialized - out of nowhere back in the fall of ‘83. You’d been sucked into the Upside Down from another time and place entirely. The unwitting and unlikely victim of a quantum hiccup twenty years in the future near your home on Nellis Airforce Base in North Las Vegas.

Your slime-covered, barely animate fifteen-year-old body was discovered and carried out of the Upside Down by Hop. He, in a hazmat suit, you in your ripped, bloodied Catholic school uniform while Joyce stumbled alongside him with Will in her clutches.

For weeks, you’d been near-catatonic, held in the custody of Dr. Owens while a cadre of shady G-men (plus Hop and Joyce) had tried to piece together your journey.

You barely registered that you had leapt back in time and ended up somewhere you didn’t know a soul, half a decade before you were even born.

For you were traumatized and plagued with guilt over the death of another teenage girl. A girl that had desperately wanted to get back to where you found yourself by accident.

You'd tried pulling Barb off that sticky wall, even though part of you knew she was already dead. Soon, you surrendered to your exhaustion and found yourself glued to the same wall, a grotty vine prodding at your lips, trying to make a home in your esophagus right as Hop and Joyce happened upon you.

Eventually, your body healed and you came out of your stupor. You went to live with Hop. You didn’t have anywhere else to go, and besides which way, the best conclusion that the scientists from the DoE could come up with was that if you were going to go back “home”, it would be the way you came. So you had to stay close by.

They paid a stipend to keep you fed and kept - you were an investment, afterall. Moreover, you were a liability and a paradox, and this was the best arrangement Owens could come up with.

Hop got used to having you around, never trying to force the matter of you returning home. In the weeks when you’d lost track of El, you would sometimes stand timidly in front of the towering man until he promised you that you would find her.

Neither of you could stand the guilt of her being out there on her own. Eventually El showed up and he decided that you would all carry on as though you had both been there the whole time.

Nobody wanted you to go back home. How would you get there? How would you survive a second time?

You started school in January of ‘84, sticking close to the walls.

Nancy and Jon felt responsible for you and kept you close. By default, that meant Steve, too. But Steve was suspicious of you.

You were freaky to him and despite what he’d seen in the Byers house, he couldn’t really comprehend your being there.

Sometimes, when you were all hanging out, a brand new song would come on the radio - like the DJ would make a big production of stressing the just released single - and then you’d absentmindedly mouth all the words perfectly.

Other times, you’d say non-sequitur things that would turn out to be quotes from movies that hadn’t been released when you’d uttered them.

The most unnerving was when Nancy’s father was hemming and hawing at the breakfast table one morning you were all over at the Wheeler house.

He was pouring over a newspaper article about some sick murderer on the loose, reciting the most sordid details while Karen Wheeler stood at the stove flipping pancakes, scolding her husband for discussing it in front of the kids.

Suddenly, you paused with your glass of orange juice poised at your lips and muttered the name Alton Coleman with a vacant look in your eyes. Days later, Alton Coleman was apprehended.

Karen and Ted Wheeler had missed it, luckily. But when Nancy had pressed you on the issue, wondering if you were tapped into some latent psychic ability that you and her could use to fight crime, you'd disappointed the girl by informing her that one of the last things you'd seen on TV before you “leapt” was a documentary about Alton Coleman. And it had only stuck with you because you'd gone over your actions in your last days at Nellis with Owens until you were blue in the face.

Then there was the style stuff. You seemed totally confused about what you referred to as “big, crispy hair,” not to mention your general aversion to spandex and high-waisted jeans.

You wore your hair with minimal volume, kept your clothes and makeup neutral, toned down, boring.

Nancy thought it was because you’d been to Catholic school and you were “demure” as she put it.

But Steve had quickly clocked that you thought everything around you was cheesy and dated but you didn’t want to stand out or accidentally make a statement by dressing from your own time. So you dressed like a bland schoolmistress and let Jonathan make you mixtapes because a constant rotation of Top 40 artists eventually set your teeth on edge.

You stopped telling Steve who the one-hit-wonders were because he was really rooting for Dexy’s Midnight Runners and he got all salty when you told him.

Nobody tried to meet you where you were at culturally, because all of you were a little worried that if you divulged secrets from the future, it would create some kind of extra rip in the universe. So you kept your trap shut except to say that you didn’t really like your time either and that, really, the ‘80s weren’t so bad in some ways.

Plus, you practically drooled at the sight of Eddie Van Halen and Mickey Rourke whenever you got the opportunity. They were so hot, you'd lament in a pained wail at the TV, as if you weren't living in the very time in which they were dropping your panties.

Steve rolled his eyes every time you did this. Little Miss Catholic School swooning over rock stars and greasers. How original. Your crush on Spock from Star Trek…Well that broke up the cliché a little.

Steve slowly started to feel more at ease around you, distracting himself with his romance with Nancy.

And you started to branch out, making friends outside of the people that knew too much for their own good.

You started wearing acid-washed denim over bolder colors, teasing your hair a bit, adopting high-waisted jeans (which made your ass look delectable, Steve grudgingly noticed - as did Allen Miles, apparently).

You were still on the shy, mild side, but you weren't such a wallflower. People knew you by face and name now.

Steve thought being from the future made you naturally more magnetic or something. Like you were always two moves ahead of everyone. That made him kind of nervous, though, so he still watched you in his periphery.

He told himself it was to make sure you didn’t slip up and involve anyone else in your freakish situation. He’d watch you in the cafeteria, the courtyard, laughing with your small circle of casual pals, looking for any indication that you were spilling your guts and making yourself look like a headcase in the process.

Best case scenario, you’d wind up in an asylum or something. Worst case, you’d end up in a gulag with electrodes inserted in every square inch of visible flesh. Months of his low-key recon suddenly became moot the night of the Halloween party in ‘84.

Steve had just had his heart crushed by Nancy in a spectacular fashion, when he pulled over on his way home.

He was trying to stave off waves of fresh pain in his chest, sat at the wheel of his car, gulping air, willing the sting of rejection to sink to the depths of his loafers. Toto’s Africa provided the soundtrack to his misery.

He startled at a gentle rapping at his window. He looked up to see you, haloed in the streetlight, wearing a copper lamé dress with a high split in the leg and a dip at the shoulder. Your eyes were smoked out, making your confused glare even more intense.

Possessed Dana Barrett, you’d explained, offering him a bite of your candy apple. He refused it, so you chucked it out the window into a storm drain, licking your sticky fingers.

You'd taken Nancy's little brother and his friends trick-or-treating and they'd cajoled you into being Possessed Dana Barrett to round out the Ghostbusters cast. You wanted to be Slimer but you didn't know how to pull it off on such short notice, and Joyce Byers had loaned you this gown from the days of disco, and why was he so long in the face, anyway?

Steve was just desperate enough to ask you to hang out at his, which turned into a request for you to stay over at his. He'd never had his heart broken by someone he’d chosen, and part of him wanted to hide.

But he knew going home to his empty house and the silence would taunt him. You went along with it easily. You almost didn't even seem confused as to why he was asking you.

You washed your face and used a spare toothbrush he had. The sleeves of the pajama top he'd long since outgrown still reached past your fingertips. He'd stared at you as you rolled them up your forearms, one leg crossed over the other, hanging off the edge of his bed.

It felt strange but comforting and he allowed himself to wonder if he'd ever get to see a lover or even his wife do those same dainty motions in a bigger bed. In a shared bed, one day. He wondered if he'd remember the sight of you, right now.

You and him were laying in his bed, top and tail - platonic 69’ing, you'd joked, immediately clearing your throat when Steve didn't laugh -, when you broke the silence telling him, “Talk to her. In a couple days. She was drunk, Steve, she didn't know what she was saying.”

He had to remind himself that you were talking about him and Nance.

“She was hurtfully clear about it,” he retorted. A beat passed before you offered an anecdote about your first time getting drunk at a Christmas party on base.

You'd snuck a bunch of drinks with some other Air Force brats throughout the night before loudly declaring to a room full of military families that you were going to invent the hoverboard from Back to the Future.

Steve didn't know what Back to the Future was and you quickly corrected course, telling him to get some sleep.

That was the night the two of you became something like friends.

The next day he woke up with the red painted toe nails of one of your feet lodged in the crook of his arm. He didn’t hate it.

Mere days later, after you'd blocked Lucas Sinclair’s body with your own and gotten Billy Hargrove’s backhand for your trouble, after he'd watched you clutch the Mother Mary medallion around your neck and recite whispered, rushed prayers to a god you scarcely believed in in the back of an abandoned school bus before fighting otherworldly monsters alongside him, and going back into that hell mouth because you'd been down there before and couldn't let the rest go in without knowing what they were up against…

Steve felt ready to let Nancy go.

He still cared for her, he still didn't like how it ended, but his world felt bigger and less stifling now. And he didn't need to hold onto the last dregs of something that would stay just that…dregs. There were possibilities all around him. He didn't want to cling to someone that didn't want him back.

Yours and Steve's friendship was quietly strengthened over two more reality-rocking apocalypses. One of those included his initiation to the Back to the Future franchise. “Ooooh,” he'd loudly declared in the theater, finally understanding your reference while off his face on Russian truth serum. You’d looked over at him with bleary eyes, shooting him finger guns, grateful for the vindication.

In between, and after the mall fire, there were lots of jokes, cookouts, Midwest adventures and plenty of heretofore platonic 69ing in his bed. Top and tail sleepovers followed by rote, cozy breakfasts at the county’s diners.

You would mewl a miserable sleep song on those mornings until he reminded you of the very existence of French toast.

Sometimes it was just the two of you, sometimes your friends joined. But it was almost agonizing in its closeness and familiarity. And it grew out of the impossible.

A shrink could have told Steve that the bitching between the two of you that occasionally oozed to the surface like liquid rock was a trauma response. The shrink would have gone on to explain that Steve was projecting his fears onto you because you were an easy target. You'd experienced it together and he had access to you. And Steve would need to find another shrink because he'd know they were only half-right.

Yes, you'd become fixtures in each other's lives and had shared experiences out of the ordinary. But the same could be said of Robin or Dustin or Eddie, etc. and yes, he mother-henned them all, but when it came to you, he couldn't be talked out of it. Because as important as Robin or Dustin or Eddie, etc. were to him, it was your ass that he couldn't seem to crawl out of, and it annoyed you as much as anyone else.

You'd been very sweet and mellow about it up to this point, but things were getting confusing between you two. Hence the pool noodle incident and passive aggressive defiance.

You started buttoning your shirt up just for something to do with your good hand and after a prolonged and uncomfortable silence, Steve spoke. “Allen Miles,” he said simply.

You stopped at the top button of your blouse. “Allen Miles,” you parroted back.

You saw the tip of his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. “Allen…Miles,” he tried again, testing the name on his tongue.

You picked at your cast, tracing the well-wishes in Robin's loopy chicken scratch with your thumb. “Is a person that exists,” you said flaty, as if to staunch whatever shit was about to come out of his mouth next.

“Allen Miles is a douche-dick,” he sing-songed quietly enough that you could have pretended not to hear.

Unbelievable. You sniffed at the insult. “What'd Allen Miles ever do to you?”

“Why'd he give you a ride today?” he asked, dodging the question. “You could have piled in with everyone else.” Ugh. He sounded like Hop.

The simplicity and faux-calmness of the statement took you aback. Was he for real right now? “He works at the rec center on Saturday mornings and I had physio-therapy there today. He offered,” you countered, trying not to sound as defensive as you felt - though the words came out in a rapid stream almost as if they’d been rehearsed (they weren’t). You bit the inside of your cheek. An argument was a-brewin.’

Steve turned off the narrow highway onto the skinny, heavily-wooded trail to the cabin. He was seething and neither of you knew why. “So he waited for you to get done with PT?”

“No,” you shot back, not fully understanding the anger under his line of questioning. “His shift ended a half hour after I was done. I waited for him.”

A scoff. “He made you wait for him?” He posed the question as if it was the most distasteful thing he could imagine.

“He didn’t make me do anything! He didn't have to drive me in the first place!”

“Well then why didn’t you come to the store! If you were waiting for a ride, you could have waited for me!”

“That would have taken hours! What is your problem?”

“Just-” Steve took a deep breath, flicking his gaze to you briefly as the Bimmer trundled down the beaten path to the cabin. “I just wonder about Miles, ya know? He’s a little sleazy around you, what if he just wants to get in your pants? What if he’d-”

Steve was the Larry Bird of cutting himself off, apparently.

“What if he’d made a move?” you offered.

“Exactly,” Steve said, pointing at you.

“What if he had?” you questioned honestly.

The cabin came into view, mercifully, only a moment later. Your head was swimming. Steve had been acting so short with you the last few weeks. It had ramped up when you’d broken the arm.

It was a stupid accident, really. Max had begged you to take a run on the skateboard, something you’d never done. She’d egged you on and you’d done it and you’d gone flying over a stop skid in the church parking lot.

She had to run into the church and have the secretary call you an ambulance. In hindsight, you were lucky you hadn’t broken your face open. You knew when to take a W, so you didn’t dwell on the possibilities too much.

Steve had heard you were in the hospital and had a conniption. Granted, he hadn’t stayed on the phone with Max long enough to hear It’s just her arm, she’s fine.

You’d been hopped up on morphine and called him a fruit loop for getting his panties in such a twist.

And ever since then, you two had been walking a razor’s edge. Where it had once been easy to diffuse your little tiffs, you seemed to be perpetually living under one another’s skin.

Steve threw the car in park and whipped over to face you. “What do you mean what if he had?” You did not appreciate the falsetto that his voice had taken on to impersonate you.

“I mean what I said, Steve! What is your deal?”

“He could be a total dirt bag, Teenie!”

You sighed to yourself and pinched the bridge of your nose. You were suddenly so tired. “He didn’t make a pass at me, Steve. He was very sweet and cordial and I got there in one piece and I really need you to back off right now, please.”

This was it. This was your limit. You wanted to crawl out of your skin. You huffed quietly to yourself before telling Steve “I need you to not talk to me for a while, okay?” And at that, you grabbed your bag from between your feet and got out of the car.

You heard Steve government-name you before you closed the door and skulked toward the cabin. The tears came fast and you were grateful that Steve didn’t follow you. Instead he gripped his steering wheel and internally scolded himself for everything that had just transpired.

Steve knew he wasn’t always the brightest, but how? How did he always end up shooting himself in the foot? He chanced a look at the cabin and lingered for a moment after he saw the light in the mudroom off the side that served as your sleeping quarters had turned on.

He gave more than a passing thought to going in after you, but he wasn’t going to fuck it further by pushing you when you’d explicitly asked for space. Plus, he was chastised, but he was still fussy, and he didn’t fully trust himself to not keep digging this hole deeper.

After a moment, he gathered himself and left the property, turning up the radio and letting Talk to Me by Stevie Nicks rub the salt in as he made his way back to his empty house.

Inside the cabin, you watched Steve’s headlights disappear as you wrestled your Detroit Red Wings jersey over your cast. It was the only sleep shirt that you could get over your cast at the moment.

Your tears had subsided, slurped back up into your tear ducts for the sheer fact that you didn’t want to waste anymore tears on Steve Harrington.

He probably didn’t know it, the beautiful dolt, but over the years that you’d known him, he’d kept pushing on the same bruise, and it had gotten even more difficult for you to cope.

He'd gone for the throat harping on Allen Miles, whom you were not interested in like that. Steve's over-the-top paternalistic revulsion at the thought of you getting some hurt your feelings and made you feel like he'd only ever see you as a fragile little sister figure that he needed to coddle. Like your having sex was some kind of aberration.

Having him treat you that way with the way you felt about him twisted your heart.

You were tired of having a big and important part of you ignored. A part that you’d never talked with anyone, especially Steve, in great detail. The sexual part. The (gag) sensual part. You were eighteen going on forty-eight, already whinging internally about how you were a woman™ dammit and you had needs™.

You weren’t seasoned, by any means. You’d had a handful of secret fumbles with secret partners and you’d made discoveries about yourself.

A of all- and this one you’d suspected since puberty hit - you got turned on easily. Like sloppy, soppy, pushing down on your vulva like you were hiding a boner turned on. And for no reason.

Sometimes it happened when you saw Eddie Van Halen on MTV or Mickey Rourke in Rumble Fish or LeVar Burton on the cover of TV Guide.

Sometimes it happened when you had to go to a stupid school spirit assembly and had to look at boys in their stupid, short basketball shorts and/or girls in their cheerleading regalia.

Sometimes it happened when you watched Eddie’s band practice in Gareth’s garage and saw the young Munson trash around all sweaty, handling his guitar expertly.

Once, it had happened when you saw Robin throw a balled up Dixie Cup into a bin at a considerable distance and she’d celebrated excessively and it was cute.

You knew you didn't want to fuck Eddie or Robin -it would be weird beyond weird. It's just that you could appreciate them.

The same way you appreciated the nasty smacking noises Nancy and Jon made when they were making out in what they thought was a private moment and you knew they were gonna bang later.

Your friends did sexy things, and sometimes it turned you on.

Mostly, though, it happened with Steve. At least once a day (usually more), he did something that accidentally got you going. A hand on his hip, and hand through his hair, a smirk, a wink, a smile, a whisper in your ear, a casual touch on the small of your back.

This was to say nothing of how he made you feel emotionally. How unguarded and at peace you felt when he was around. How physical closeness felt as natural as breathing, and you were not hugged enough as a child, so that was saying something.

Sometimes you'd give each other long lingering hugs and it made you wish you could fuse your flesh to his. You wanted to be his Kuato, always melded to his tummy. And you knew it was weird but so what? Nobody needed to know.

B of all - you liked being touched. And snogged. And railed. And held tight. Which you discovered on your own and in secret, no thanks to Steve. Because Steve usually had a squeeze waiting in the wings somewhere.

And even when he didn’t, he was preoccupied either with healing from his first great heartbreak or pondering how to rebound from said great heartbreak. Despite your raging hormones, you knew you wanted nothing to do with either of those. So you outsourced your sexual energy.

As soon as you'd gotten over your hangups about the cheesy, neon, teased to high-hell vomit pile that was the 1980s in America, and you'd leaned into it just a little bit, you started getting noticed. And you discovered, thanks to Francis and David and Chelsea (separately), that you did not just enjoy sex in theory, but also in practice.

The kicker, though, was that while you physically enjoyed the sex that you’d had, you realized when you were coming down from the high that something might be missing. You could have an orgasm that you felt in your very boots, but you wouldn’t ever ask the person that had just rocked your world to drive you to the airport or buy you French toast, much less trust them with your heart.

Your stupid, stupid heart. It beat for a boy that seemed to think you had the sex life of a castrato.

You flopped down on your bed and stared at your ceiling. You felt kind of bad brushing Steve off like that, even demanding that he not talk to you.

You hadn't chanced a look back at his face when you'd left his car, but you knew you would have seen that hardened, confused look that he got when he was hurt. That look that always crushed you and made you want to kiss his face and whisper sweet words until he broke out into that cocky grin of his.

You rolled over and closed your eyes, wishing he was next to you, that you could feel his weight and body heat, that you were holding him by the crook of his elbow and pressing your face into his bicep. That you could somehow transmit your thoughts without speaking them out loud and that he would at least be gentler with you and not infer that you were sexless anymore. Even if he didn’t want you like that.

You settled into that lukewarm fantasy, of the memory of him, and let yourself drift to sleep.

(⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠)

Steve was sitting on his floor leaned against his bed, holding one of his most prized worldly possessions. It was a candid Polaroid of the two of you.

It was taken at the fair last year. It was a little overexposed with the lights from the rides surrounding you, but the figures of you two were clear as day.

In the photo, Steve was holding your wrist to his chest with a crooked grin, mouth poised near your ear. It looked like he'd just whispered something to you. Your head was crooked to the side and down, like you were trying to worm away from his grasp, your eyes closed with the intensity of your laugh. Your face was glowing with the fair lights and there was a streak of white on your cheek. You both looked sublimely happy.

Steve smiled at the memory. You'd made a game of forcing bits of funnel cake into his mouth when he wasn't paying attention when finally, he'd caught you before your next “attack” and smeared powdered sugar from the pastry onto your cheek as revenge.

His first thought when Jonathan had presented him with the memento at the end of that night was that he was looking at you like a boy in love and he wondered how many times he'd been caught looking at you like that, without photographic evidence.

The bitter memory of you telling him I need you to not talk to me for a while roared back into his consciousness and slapped him in the face. You'd sounded hurt, on top of being pissed.

Did you really want to date Allen Miles? You said he hadn't made a pass at you. Did it hurt your feelings because he didn't make a pass at you and Steve had just dug the knife in more? He'd throttle Miles if he'd hurt your feelings. Fuck that guy.

Or were you worried about Steve's opinion of your choice in boyfriends? Was Allen your type? What was your type? He knew Eddie Van Halen and Mickey Rourke and LeVar Burton were your type but that weird trinity did not clarify things for him.

Steve tried to recall what, besides his shortness with you, could have triggered you to react the way that you did. By now, he knew that whatever it was, it was his fault. He would love to pawn the blame off on you but you were usually blameless, especially to him. You were sweet and gentle and always seemed to anticipate and prioritize other people’s needs at your own peril.

He'd given you space like you asked but it had been a couple days now. He was starting to feel like he was jonesing.

He was hoping you would have come to visit him at the video store by now, jumping on his back and hugging him like a koala, whispering in his ear that all was forgiven and things could go back to normal, like how they were before you'd broken your arm.

But when Steve thought about things going back the way they were, it made his brain itch. He felt like something was totally different and the two of you couldn't go back if you wanted to. Moreover, he didn't know if he did want to. He wanted…

Steve's thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing. He slid the Polaroid of you two back into his bedside drawer and hastily picked up the receiver. Please be her, please be her, please be her.

“Hello?”

“Steve?”

Nance. “Nance?” Fuck it all. Steve bit back his disappointment. “What's up?”

“Is Teenie over at yours? I tried to call her but El said she's not home but she's not working today, either. I know Robin was scheduled at the store today. I thought she might be with you.”

Steve's jaw clenched involuntarily. Were you with Allen Miles?

“Um,” Steve said with a little choke. “No, no. She's not here. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything's good. It's just that I was emptying the cooler and I found that Mother Mary medallion she always wears? It must have slipped off her neck. It was her grandmother's and I thought she might be bugging out thinking it was lost forever and-”

“I'll come get it,” Steve interrupted. He was already pulling his sneakers on. “You gonna be home for a minute?”

“Oh.” A pause. “It's no big deal, Steve, I'm running Mike to the cabin tomorrow, I can just drop it off then.”

Steve was pacing now, thinking he might be losing his line back to you. You did love that necklace even though you'd abandoned the Church forever ago. Your grandmother was the only person from back “home” that you were sentimental about - and she'd died not long before you'd ended up here.

That necklace was the only tangible piece of your former life that you really cared about. Maybe you'd be more inclined to listen or even share oxygen with him if he brought it back to you.

“Uh, it's cool. She actually left her uh,” Steve began, looking around the room then down at his feet, “uh, her shoes, yeah. She left them in my car when I dropped her off the other night.” Lie.

He heard Nancy laugh, a little disbelievingly. “She left her shoes in your car.” It came out as a statement.

“Psh, yeah. They were all sandy from the beach and she hates the feeling of leftover sand in between her toes.” Half lie. You had told him that, once. “Anyway, I'll be by in like ten.”

“Ste-”

Steve dropped the receiver back in the cradle and made a mad dash for Nancy’s. Nancy was waiting for him on the front step when he arrived. When she dropped the necklace in his waiting palm, he held it gingerly and stared at it like a holy relic.

Nancy cleared her throat. Steve met her eyes and he could see something like suspicion dancing behind them, along with a little smirk. “You better go find Teenie. Poor girl’s walking around without shoes, afterall.”

Nancy was always too smart for her own good - or anyone else’s for that matter. He thanked her as if she’d given him the world and went on his merry way.

(⁠๑⁠♡⁠⌓⁠♡⁠๑⁠)

Steve decided to make a pitstop back at his house instead of going right over to yours. He’d been planning on going to the cabin and waiting for you if you hadn’t gotten home yet.

But after he left Nancy’s, he thought that this might not be the move. You were really mad at him and he wanted to show you that he could listen and respect your wishes.

He spent a good twenty minutes pacing around his living room trying to come up with a gameplan on how to return your necklace without ruffling your feathers further.

Maybe he should buy you an obnoxiously large teddy bear?

No, if you hated it, he would be stuck with an over-large, cutesy reminder of his failure.

Or maybe he could hire one of those dorky barbershop quartets to show up at work and sing you a song about how he knew he was a dipshit, but you meant so much to him, please take him back?

No, no. You would die of embarrassment and probably haunt him for the rest of his days.

He was still holding your necklace, gripping his hair by the roots when he heard the doorbell.

Maybe it was Dustin or Eddie. Maybe he could bounce some ideas off them, he thought as he jogged toward the door.

He opened it and felt the air leave his lungs when he saw you standing there. You were staring up at him, eyes wide, swaying your shoulders a little bit the way you did when you were nervous.

You were wearing his favorite dress of yours. This beige thing with tie straps and red flowers on it. The first time he’d seen you wear it, you’d been all dolled up in a way that was almost salacious. Now you wore your hair down with barely a stitch of makeup on and Steve thought you looked…

“Hi,” you said shyly.

“Hi,” he said back, his voice sounding small in his ears. He cleared his throat, hoping that if he found his voice again, he wouldn’t sound so broken. “Come in?”

You didn’t hesitate, thankfully. You walked past him, minding your cast and stopped in the foyer before you turned to him. You shrugged one shoulder bashfully.

“Nancy said you had my necklace.” Your face scrunched up in confusion. “Also, something about shoes?”

Steve pushed the door shut and walked over to you.

“Uh, yeah, I might have lied to her and said you left your shoes in my car so I’d have an excuse to take custody of your necklace.”

The confusion on your face deepened.

Steve held your necklace out to you and you let him drop it into your good hand.

You both stood there for an awkward moment. “I missed you,” you said.

Steve felt his heart soar and opened his mouth to respond but you cut him off.

“Will you help me?” you asked, holding up the necklace and then your cast to make your point.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said, rushing to your back. You handed him the necklace and bunched your hair up in a fist, holding it out of the way.

Steve took a moment to appreciate the back of your neck, the downy hairs at your hairline, the little birthmark at the junction of your shoulder. He looped the necklace around you and clasped it, checking that the spring in the clasp was still sound.

“All set,” he said.

You spun around to meet him and he saw you touch the pendant at your decolletage with a little smile. “Thank you.”

“I missed you too,” Steve rushed out, hands shoved in his back pockets.

The look you gave him back was soft and dazed and he felt his heart kick in his chest. You cocked your head at him. “Why were you so upset about Allen, Stevie?”

Steve didn’t detect even a hint of anger in your question. You just kept staring at him softly. Steve walked over to the couch and perched himself against the backrest. His thumbs rubbed dual patterns on the suede upholstery while he thought up a response. The best he could come up with was “Do you like him? Allen, I mean? Like…romantic-wise?”

He glanced up at you bashfully, dreading the answer he was sure would come.

Your eyes narrowed, but not meanly. You walked over to him and planted your hip against the couch next to him.

“No,” you said, simply.

Steve released a relieved exhale from deep in his chest. You weren’t done, though. “But Stevie, why…I mean why did you get so mad at the thought of Allen and I together?”

Steve felt his eyes bug out but tried to school his expression into something less obvious. He shrugged when he finally met your eyes again. “Teenie, I just.” He wet his bottom lip. You wore the same soft, contemplative expression but he thought he could see your breathing kick up as you waited for him to finish.

Steve was right. You were trying to stop yourself from hyperventilating. You hadn’t come over here to confront Steve, not really. You really just wanted to see him again and figure out what he was playing at, purloining your necklace from Nancy in an obvious attempt to get back in your good graces. It would have been a cute gesture if you weren’t so worried about what was coming next.

But two days of feeling like your brain was leaking for its singular fixation on your Stevie and how much you missed him had finally gotten the best of you. You came round the moment you could. You knew it was time to face the music, come what may.

“I just want…whoever you hang out with or end up being with…I just want them to treat you with respect. And I want you to have fun and feel safe and…”

God, he was beautiful. Didn’t he know? How could he not know?

Steve seemed to be at a loss for words now, so you offered some.

“I could have those things with you,” you breathed out almost dreamily.

Steve's eyes went wide again and you felt like your heart was going to break because that look could have meant…so many things. Not all of them good.

You backed away from his side slowly, ready to make a break for it, but Steve caught you gently by the upper arms and stood at his full height. He stared at you like you were a brand new lifeform.

“Teenie?” he said in a too-tiny voice.

You were looking right into the void, free-falling into the hinterworld of your own heart.

“Stevie, do you think of me like a little sister?”

Steve's eyebrows shot up with something like horror before he cleared his throat and shook away some thought known only to him.

“Ew, no, Teen.”

You bit your lip and stamped your foot just a little bit, feeling a little unmoored. You worried suddenly that you wouldn't get the answers you wanted.

Steve had loosened his grip on you just a smidge. He was absently stroking your arms with his thumbs.

“One of the kids then. Dustin or Max or-”

“No,” he answered immediately, shaking his head decisively. “No.”

And you knew. You knew he meant it.

You backed away, feeling singed by his sincerity. You paced the length of the runner behind the couch and slid a nail along your cast making little zipzipzip noises to fill the quiet. You turned to him after a moment.

“So what's happening with us. Why are we being so weird with each other?”

Steve put his hands on his hips. “You broke your ass, Teenie,” he said sternly. “It could have been your head!”

“It wasn't though, it wasn't my head!” Your voice had a desperate edge. “Way crazier stuff has happened to me, to both of us! All our friends…”

He looked at you like you were speaking a different language. He shut his eyes tight like he was willing the memories away. He gathered himself quickly.

“Right, and if things had gone differently, we don't know what could have happened!”

Both of you were breathing hard, tears stinging your eyeballs. It's like you had awoken a sleeping beast by merely mentioning its existence.

Steve gestured into the air and stared into the distance as he continued. He was so fuckin’ pretty, you thought then. Even when he had big fuckin’ feelings that his pretty fuckin’ self couldn't contain in his pretty fuckin' meat prison.

“Every time something happens to you, it's like I can't stop thinking about it.” Steve's tented his fingers at his temples to demonstrate his point, eyes wide and unblinking like there was a movie playing behind his eyes that he couldn't look away from.

You started taking slow, tiny steps toward him, like he was a wounded rabbit and you didn't want to frighten him off. You wanted to hold him.

“I spin out and I can't stop thinking about you dying.”

Two more tiny, furtive steps toward him.

“Or being born.”

“Oh, Stevie-” Wait. “Wait, being born? What?”

Steve had pulled at his hair and it was messy in that perfect way.

“Your birthday, Teenie.” He said it both frantically and like you were dumb for not following. “It's 1986, your birthday is less than two years away and we don't know.” He practically whimpered your name, willing you to understand.

It hit you then. You'd forgotten yourself for a minute, how absurd your life was. The very thing that was whispered among your friends and found family - spoken in a hushed manner for fear of speaking it into reality (or causing you an existential crisis.) You always heard them, though.

You had almost…almost found it funny how nobody seemed to think that the thought didn't cross your mind at three in the morning most nights.

The question of what would happen when the day of your birth - the one on your original, undoctored birth certificate that you'd left in a banker box back on Nellis AFB - finally rolled around. The day you would find out to what extent you were an actual paradox. If having been evicted from your mother's womb on that day would cause you to be slurped back into the Upside Down…Or if you would blink out of existence.

But the question hadn't woken you up since Spring Break. Because the positive to having a psionic demon vampire picking apart your psyche is that sometimes you got good intel.

You felt so warm all of a sudden, watching Steve watch you with his eyes wide and desperate and his scrumptious lips pushed into a sad pout, looking so young. You'd never been so touched in all your life.

You strode over to him and pulled his collar to encourage him down, closer to your height.

His arms looped around your middle. It was automatic. The half-crazed look on his face dropped away, replaced by an expression that told you he was taken aback but that he didn't hate this.

“I love you,” you declared, firm and resolute, yet quaky with emotion. You hoped he knew that this wasn't like the other times you said it. And that you could table the birthday discussion until after…

You squeezed his face and pushed your mouth into his as you looped your broken arm around his neck.

Steve gathered your hair away from your face and returned the kiss without a moment’s hesitation.

His mouth was warm and soft and a little tacky from how he'd been licking his lips nervously moments before. Your lip balm provided just the right amount of slide for your lips to tangle together perfectly.

Steve stumbled with you in his arms against the nearest wall. You took great care not to accidentally dicknail him in the side of the head with your cast as he hoisted you up, cradling your thighs in his hands.

Through his panting, he managed, “Do you mean it?”

Both of you knew what he meant. Did you mean I love you? Did you mean the kiss? The answer to both was a resounding fucking yes.

“Yes, Stevie. I want this. I want you so bad-”

Steve dive-bombed your mouth with his own, caressing your tongue with his. You opened your mouth wider to let him riff on it.

You shuddered when you felt his crotch press into yours. The feeling of his hardening cock pressed into the space that was rapidly becoming drenched with your horniness and love for this boy combined with the slipperiness of your tongues moving together was beyond your wildest dreams.

Steve couldn't believe this was happening. He couldn't believe that the only thing standing between you two and your mutual desire to jam yourselves together like you were trying to fuse into a superbeing was that you thought he didn't think you were sexy or mature or whatever the fuck.

If his blood supply wasn't rushing to his crotchal region right now, he might have done some psychological forensics to figure out how you'd arrived at that conclusion.

And fuck him if you didn't know what you were doing. This clearly wasn't your first heavy make out. Normally, that thought would make him jealous as all hell. But he could feel it. The rightness of this and he knew it didn't matter.

He pulled back from your mouth and let himself stare at you shamelessly. Your mouth was kiss-bitten and -oh - you already had this sexy, flushed glow painted from your cleavage to your cheeks.

You wore a beautifully profane expression, half-helpless and half-threatening as in I'm going to eat you if you don't eat me first. Your irises looked almost feline.

He stole one more kiss from you before he hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He expected you to protest but you just grunted slightly at the impact and braced yourself as much as you could for what turned out to be a short commute to Steve's room. You were too turned on to question his method.

Steve deposited you on the bed and you scrambled up to your knees to pull him forcefully into another kiss where he stood. You started nipping and biting sucking at his earlobes, his jaw, his neck, his chest.

Steve felt almost overwhelmed. This the hottest thing that had ever happened to him. You two were feral for each other and probably would have looked completely insane if you’d had an audience. Unlike his previous encounters, nothing about this felt stilted or transactional or lopsided.

In spite of how erotic it was, though, it also felt tender. Like this thread between you had been pulling taut for god knew how long before it had almost snapped. And as soon as you'd stopped resisting it, it pulled you into one another. He needed to be sure that you felt the same, though. He wouldn't risk another communication breakdown.

He pulled your face away from his neck by your hair and you looked startled but not displeased. Your lips curled into a dozy smile at the show of force. Steve was all business, though.

“How far do you want this to go?” You both chose to ignore the way his voice gave a little.

You swallowed as you stroked his chest. “Um, well, I really want you to make love to me but, like…I'll take whatever you give me.”

Steve closed his eyes in quiet supplication to whatever force was allowing this.

He smiled at you with his tongue poking at the back of his teeth. You returned it with a goofy giggle. God, you two were idiots.

“Game on then, baby,” Steve said.

Steve insisted on going down on you. You didn't strictly need it. You were so turned on that you could already feel that ache inside where you'd opened up to receive him.

You were almost worried that you might end up accidentally waterboarding him with your cunt for how wet you were already, but you needn’t have worried.

After he'd fluffed the pillows behind your shoulders and pulled your soaked panties off of you, he didn't waste a minute exploring down there with little kisses and bites to your thighs before he finally dove in and got to work.

Within minutes he had you shivering and moaning, letting nonsense fuck language spill from your lips as you scratched his scalp in little circles.

Steve was painfully hard in his shorts but he would have stayed down here for millenia if you'd let him.

Soon, you were gripping his wrist and writhing. Your legs were bent and rigid like a Barbie doll's but quaking with the intensity of your orgasm.

You let a sharp cry escape from your chest. It was high-pitched and wild and unguarded and it was the most beautiful sound Steve had ever heard.

He looked up at you. Your head was resting at an angle like it was too heavy for you to hold up. He let himself enjoy the sight.

With your eyes still closed, as though you were in a deep trance, you started groping with your good hand, uncoordinated at your shoulders until you found the tie straps on your dress and undid them.

Without communicating it out loud, Steve pinched the fabric of your dress's bodice while you lifted up on your elbows so he could pull it down.

God, you were beautiful. Not just your tits. Yes, your tits were insane, but it was just you. Every inch of you, every plane on your body and, outside of your physical form, your gravity and orbit. He would never escape them and he didn't want to.

Steve crawled up your body, leaving smooches up your tummy and along your breasts and neck until he got to your mouth. You pulled him into you, kissing him stupid.

“Off,” you said bossily, breaking the kiss. Tugging at his collar. “These, too,” you insisted, pinching the cuff of his jeans between your toes.

Steve chuckled and pulled the shirt over his head. He got to work on his belt, kissing the tip of your nose.

“You want it like this?” he asked, indicating the missionary position you were in.

He got his belt free and shimmied his jeans away and down the bed, not wanting to leave you.

You bit your lip, eyes cast down lustfully, and Steve noticed you were checking out the tent in his boxers.

He snickered. “My eyes are up here.”

You giggled at him, flicking his nose.

You two settled into a cozy silence and just stared at each other. You cleared your throat. “My favorite is being on top, usually,” you began. “But it might be hard with this.” You lifted your casted arm.

Steve deliberated for a moment. You could have told him you liked it upside down on a hammock and he would have found a way to make it so. But the thought of you riding him was making his dick weep. He would make that so, no problem.

“Teenie-on-top it is.” He gave your naked thigh a couple of light slaps. “Up,” he instructed.

You pushed up onto your knees as he leaned over to his nightstand, extracting a loose condom packet. He stood up and pulled his boxers down.

When he looked at you, you were sitting on your haunches, knees splayed wide. Your arms were limp at your sides, hair a fucked out mess. You stared at his cock with what looked to him like reverence, mouth agape.

“Oh, Marone,” you whispered to yourself with a gulp, fisting your hair at the scalp.

Steve snorted. You were so cute it made his chest hurt. He explained his plan as he ripped the condom foil open and rolled it over his cock.

“I'm going to hold you up so you don't put weight on the arm. I've got you, just trust me, ‘kay?”

He didn't know if you'd been paying attention to what he said. You sprung up on your knees and collapsed into him and gave him a searing kiss on the mouth. “‘Kay.”

Steve slid into bed and guided you by your hips to straddle him. You held your casted arm off to the side, balancing like you were getting into a rowboat as you braced your good hand on his forearm.

“Good?” he asked.

You hummed as you began moving yourself over his cock. Steve's breath hitched, but he kept his grip on your hips firm as you acquainted your bits with his.

Your slickness and his spit had cooled a little but soon he could feel a pool of warmth. He was at your entrance. Your skirt was ruched around your waist, the straps of it hanging limply. His favorite dress.

You locked eyes with him as you reached between you and guided him inside. You sheathed him in inside you completely, pretty much immediately. No adjustment period needed. Your body had waited long enough.

Both of you had done so much waiting.

You rocked your pelvis against him, getting used to the sensations. It felt like coming home, it felt so right.

Steve’s cock was like a pleasure-seeking missile. It found enclaves in your body that you'd never have discovered on your own.

Your cunt hugged him, letting you and him both know how rich the landscape of your body was. You could feel everything and everything felt so good.

Steve was still holding onto your hips but he was squeezing his eyes shut and writhing and moaning. You really fucking knew what you were doing. Or maybe this was just a long time coming. Maybe it was destined.

The sounds of his moans were like a cool drink of water on the hottest day of the year. You wanted the sound bottled. You wanted to bathe in it.

You braced your good hand on his chest and gripped his elbow with the other as you changed up the angle and pace. He was caressing your g-spot now and when you moaned loudly at the sensation, he gripped you tighter, encouraging you to devour that feeling. Your clit found his mons and pretty soon, playtime was over.

You were both panting and moaning and before you knew it, you were right there. Your pussy was fluttering. Steve's stomach was taut, his upper body having gone rigid. His face was red and the veins in his forehead were prominent with his exertion. He was trying to delay his own orgasm until you were ready.

You folded over then, collapsing forward and cradling his head between your upper arms. Electric bubbles of happiness fizzed in every part of your cunt, sending effervescent kisses up your spine and down to your toes. You thought your broken arm might have healed, even.

“FuckStevieBaby,” you whined, pressing your forehead into the dip of his shoulder.

Steve was a goner. He moaned your name pathetically as he pistoned his hips up into you, helped by the wetness of your cum. Heat lightning overtook his body as he felt himself spill inside the condom and he saw sparkles.

Your skin was pasted to his with sweat.

You shakily made yourself up to a seated position and looked down at him like you were getting to see the Northern Lights for the first time.

He returned the gaze. Except to him, you were the Northern Lights and the Milky Way and a lofty angel with wings of purple fire. Jesus, when did he get so poetic?

He sat up and wrapped you in his arms, kissing you and pulling you into a hug. It wasn't unlike the ones you'd shared before, nudity notwithstanding.

It was a hug that said hi, I'm here, I've got you, always.

You let your heart rates ramp down before he lifted you off his softening member, but keeping you in his lap. He drew circles on your sweaty back.

“I love you,” he said into your collarbone.

Your heart did a little dance in your naked chest.

“I love you, too. More than anything.”

Steve pulled you both down and situated it so you were both laying on your sides, facing the other. He clasped your hand in his.

“No, I mean I love you.” It was emphatic despite the sleepiness in his voice. “I'm in love with you and I want to keep you. I want us to do this. I want people to know we belong to each other.”

If anyone else on planet earth had said those words to you after you'd just fucked, it would have sounded like cro magnon-freshly-emptied-balls possessiveness.

But not with him. It's like you could see tomorrow in his beautiful brown eyes. You two were finally, blessedly on the same page.

“I've belonged to you since…” you rolled your eyes upward like you were thinking, when really you actually knew… “Halloween ‘84.”

Steve smiled at your confirmation. But also in bemusement.

“The night me and Nancy-”

“It was when I was on your bed,” you interrupted. “Right here in this spot. I was rolling up the sleeves of that stripey old man PJ shirt you loaned me.”

“I remember,” he whispered, swallowing the emotions bubbling up.

“I saw you looking at me and for just a second, I let myself think…”

You had let yourself think, this feels so easy. I'm about to spend the night in a boy's bed for the first time and it feels so easy. What if he wasn't heartbroken? What if he didn't think you were a freak? What if you'd done this a before in a thousand and one lifetimes? That's how easy it felt.

“I never stopped being yours, Stevie.”

He scooched closer, ran his index finger down the bridge of your nose, kissing you one more time.

“I hope you never do.”

“I never will.”

Steve got a faraway look in his eye as he looked past your shoulder.

He didn't want to burst this bubble, but if he felt this way now, what would it be like less than two years from now. Less than two years away.

You clocked it immediately, you little mind-reader.

You couldn't let him stew in his fear anymore. You hadn't meant to drop the subject before, but you had the pressing matter of showing him how much you loved him to attend to.

“I'm not going back, you know.”

His eyes shot to you, suddenly way more alert.

“How-”

“Creel.”

Steve propped himself up on his elbow and studied you. You never brought this up. In fact, if any of your family's little misadventures ever came up in conversation, even briefly, you would excuse yourself from the room. Everyone learned to keep that talk to a minimum around you.

Besides that, Steve didn't like talking about when you'd been Vecna’d. It had been in the same manner as Nancy had been. Not meant to destroy you but to show you things. When the group had asked you what you saw, you simply told them “me.”

At the time, you had made the executive decision that what you had been shown wasn't valuable to any fact-finding that would help you defeat your foe. And when you were pressed for more, when Dustin had accused you of a party infraction by withholding, you'd leveled him with a deadly glare and stated “Not this, Dustin. Not now.” You had been so uncharacteristically severe that everyone silently agreed to leave it.

You turned over on your back and stared at the ceiling.

“Before Spring Break, I was having a really hard time.”

Steve remembered. The recesses of his memory held images of you looking off into the distance, refrains of sorry, what? whenever you got caught out.

You'd buried yourself in schoolwork, picking up extra shifts at the bowling alley, packing your calendar with babysitting gigs. Like you were trying to erase every moment of idle time, pulling away from everyone.

Steve had worried but when he talked about it with Robin, she'd dismissed it as paranoia. Think about it, Steve, what's she's been through. It catches up.

He figured Robin might know something he didn't, hurtful though it was. He'd dropped it.

“You were dating around and Nancy was missing Jon. El was gone, Hop was gone. Max was totally checked out. And I started wondering, like..”

Your eyes were wet, now, voice a little choked. Steve brushed your cheek and that seemed to give you the resolve to keep going.

“I started to worry that I would never find someone that could really know me. That I couldn't ever really move on and grow up because the people that did know me were all…”

You gestured vaguely into the air.

“I felt so out of place all of a sudden. And for the first time since I got here I just wanted to go back. I wanted to go back to where I made sense. Even though I didn't like my life before…”

Steve's heart broke at the thought that you'd felt so abandoned. He could kick himself for being so flip about it back then.

Your story took you over then. It was so cemented in your mind, it might have been inscribed on tablets.

You'd blinked. One minute you were at the mouth of the gate. The next minute you were in some sort of cathedral. But it was in ruins. The exposed sky was red. The air was stale..lightning flashed a deeper crimson across the sky.

There were pews made of shaley stone. What would have once served as a wall was crumbled around the arrangement.

He stood at the pulpit, a stone monument, cracked with angry looking clefts glowing with smoldering fire. He clutched each side of it, staring you down.

He breathed your name in a dulcet huff.

“You don't belong. You belong nowhere. You're a reprobate. Abominable. An orphan in time.”

He was hideous. And massive. You hadn't seen him until now. You'd only heard conjecture on what his visage might look like.

He was slimy and twisted and hairless. The sinews of his skin were a swampy gray, eyes ringed with red. For his florid yet cruel indictment of you, he was foul. You could taste him just by looking at him.

You were paralyzed with revulsion and fear. You were worried that you might actually pee your pants.

“You have nowhere to return to. You absconded from your problems, as you've always done. But I have nothing but good news for you.”

You glanced around, not daring to move your head. You only saw more waste, more nothingness, more anger and despair scratched into the landscape that surrounded you. You wanted to go home.

Suddenly you knew where home was. It had never been so clear. It was with the people that had held and kept you since you'd been sucked through a leak in space-time.

“You can make a home here. You can join my menagerie. You'll never suf-”

“Don't listen to him, Ladybug,” came a sharp, familiar voice behind you, coated in the accent of her mother country.

You spun to meet her eyes...Your grandmother was sitting on one of the rock pews. She looked as elegant and warm as ever. She was wearing the satin wrap dress she wore to Easter mass the last year she was alive.

You stumbled over to her. She stood and opened her arms as you fell into her.

Suddenly you forgot that you were in a red-tinged hell scape with a slimy vampire at your back. Wherever this was, wherever she was, was a sort of paradise.

You held her tight. You could smell her familiar shalimar perfume over the fetid ozone stink of this place. The wings of her upper arms were soft in the crooks of your elbows. She shushed your crying and stroked your hair.

It was her. You knew, beyond what it was to know, that it was her.

You heard Creel growl behind you, startling you out of your grandmother's arms. She held fast to you and tilted your chin to look at her. You heard the air around you twist like warped steel, Creel’s voice laced through it, muddled and distorted to something imperceptible.

“He is a liar. He will lie to deceive you.” Her accent made it sound like “day-seef.”

You missed her. You missed the way she talked. You missed how severe she was when she wanted to make a point.

She'd found you. Outside of time and space and a living vessel, she'd found you in this hopeless place.

Her eyes burned into yours. “Your father is fine. He knows you are fine. He doesn't know how he knows, but I've seen to it.”

You could hear that desperate argumentative groaning trying to pierce through. Your head was hurting. You had pressure in your ears.

“Your place is with your friends. Never stop thinking of them and you will never lose.”

The world around you started to crumble and fall away. You saw those big spires of rock around you crash into the ground.

You gripped her hands that held your face. “I love you,” you sobbed.

She smiled at you as everything caved in. You closed your eyes and felt her kiss your forehead.

When you opened them again, you saw Steve. He was cradling you and hyperventilating. He seemed to register that you were back. Relief washed over his face and his breathing returned to normal.

“Did I pee my pants?”

Steve had the courtesy to glance down to your upper-thigh region.

“If you did, it must not have been a lot.”

You broke into a sob and let him hug you while your friends rallied to get you away from the gate.

From then on out, you heeded your grandmother’s advice. You never stopped thinking of your friends and you didn't fail…You got Hop and El back.

You had your friends.

You had Steve.

You had shut your eyes while telling Steve the story but you opened them now. You turned your head to face him.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you,” you told him through tears. “I didn't know how.”

Steve didn't know what to say. He stared at you with gentle eyes. He didn't want you to cry anymore.

He kissed you lightly and stroked your side. “It's okay. I get it.”

He did get it. He understood all at once why you couldn't tell them back then. You didn't want to make it about you.

Max was still in danger. The world was still in danger. You'd been gifted a secret weapon that you had to wield and you didn't want anyone to hear what you'd seen and tell you that you'd been bamboozled by Creel and blunt your weapon with doubt.

You'd known in your heart that it was real. Steve knew now because you knew.

You were tired then. Well and truly sleepy. Steve accepted you into his arms.

You two fell into silence, breathing in tandem, stroking each other.

You felt Steve's chin wag on the top of your head when he asked “What do you think will happen on your 20th birthday?”

You smiled into his chest. You loved that Steve-flavored curiosity whenever it showed itself.

“I dunno, Stevie. Maybe nothing. But if anything does, you'll be there to find out with me, right?”

He scratched lines up your back as he answered.

“Can’t wait.”

(⁠/⁠^⁠-⁠^⁠(⁠^⁠ ⁠^⁠*⁠)⁠/

#steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington smut #steve harrington friends to lovers #ao3 fanfic #adopted hopper reader #steve harrington angst

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strangererotica · 9 months ago

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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Perv!dark!Jim Hopper x fem!reader x Steve Harrington • This is a very long chapter • But it’s worth the read, I promise! The cliffhanger at the end is… 😱🤯😯

PART ONE

Jim Hopper woke up with a headache so intense, he wasn’t sure he could open his eyes. He did anyway, cursing under his breath at the sunlight streaming through his bedroom curtains, despising it. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the morning’s intrusion, yet his splitting headache persisted. He’d consumed far too much alcohol the night before, more than he usually did most evenings. As the fuzzy events of the past eight hours rose to his consciousness, he felt a wave of dread and vomit battling in his stomach.

What had he gotten himself into, Hopper wondered? The sound of footsteps echoed from the bedroom doorway. Hopper turned to see the woman he’d apparently brought home last night, smiling at him and carrying two mugs from his kitchen, steamy and smelling of fresh coffee. “Morning, handsome.”

She appeared to be naked except for one of his plaid flannel shirts, which she’d (obviously intentionally) left unbuttoned most of the way down her body.

Hopper felt nothing in regards to this woman at the moment besides annoyed. Her neon pink lipstick was missing, but her smile and demeanor still held that pathetic desperation which made Hopper’s skin crawl. She was standing there, waiting for Hopper to say something.

“Well?” she started, her tone slightly bothered as if expecting a compliment of some kind. “I thought maybe you could use this.” She walked closer and gently handed Hopper one of the mugs. “I know I sure can. Last night was…” She tilted her head, attempting flirtatiousness but it fell flat. Hopper watched her silently, waiting for a description of the night before, as he was genuinely in the dark. He realized he must have been blackout drunk, a state Hopper had somehow managed to avoid for the majority of his years drinking.

The woman sighed wistfully, and playfully tapped her mug to Hopper’s. The sound of the ceramic clinking together pierced Hopper’s ears through the filter of his hangover. She sat down on the bed beside him, snuggling close. “Cheers,” she said, and at this proximity, Hopper could now see the residue of neon pink staining the corners of her lips. Hopper grimaced. He watched her take a sip, then place the mug on his nightstand. Her hands began to wander over him, massaging his shoulders, moving along his back. Her right hand lingered below Hopper’s waist, and he realized what was happening. She wanted him to fuck her.

As Hopper expected, the woman’s cheaply manicured fingers slid beneath the sheet over Hopper’s waist, finding his cock. She bit her lower lip, eyes flashing up at Hopper expectantly. A new worry itched at his brain, and the roiling in his stomach returned. Had he fucked this woman last night? He couldn’t remember. And Hopper hoped that if he’d come inside her, it hadn’t been in her pussy. The last thing he needed was another pregnancy scare to add to his list of irresponsible sexual behavior.

“Remember what you said?” the woman asked, gently stroking Hopper under the sheet. His eyebrow lifted. “Refresh my memory?” he murmured, his voice gravelly with fatigue. Hopper turned from her, reaching for a cigarette on the nightstand.

She paused, slightly irritated, before answering. “You said you’d make it up to me.” Hopper glanced down at his semi-soft cock, which refused to fully harden even as she continued to work her hand around him. He took a drag from his cigarette, and cleared his throat. “Make what up to you?” he asked.

She forced a polite, playful smile. “When you fell asleep, silly.” Her grip around Hopper’s cock tightened, pulling a deep, lazy groan from his chest. “You said you’d make it up to me in the morning…” Her eyes were cast downward, the disappointment in her voice poorly masked. “…That you’d make up for not fucking me…”

Hopper sighed heavily, both in relief and at the pleasurable sensation tugging in his belly as the woman pumped him in her hand. He was fully hard now, that familiar, aching throb in his cock attempting to eclipse the throbbing in his head.

Hopper had a busy day ahead of him. He didn’t have much time to waste before diving deep into learning every single thing he could about Steve fucking Harrington, the only thing standing in his way of having you. But for now, Hopper decided he might as well take advantage of the hand around his cock, regardless of how little he regarded the woman the hand was attached to.

Hopper smiled slightly, giving her the impression he was interested in her continuing. She needed little motivation from him, dipping her head to take his tip between her lips. Hopper’s chest dipped slowly as he exhaled. He knew he was using this woman, whose name he couldn’t even recall. Hopper had no intention of fucking her. He’d come down her throat and then tell her to take off his shirt, and get out. It was simple as that; a one way transaction. And he never wanted to see her or her disgusting neon pink lips again once he was done using them.

She could take Hopper deeper at this angle than she’d been able to sucking him off in his car. Hopper closed his eyes and mentally replaced her with you. As his fantasy deepened, Hopper’s hand at the back of her head closed tighter. The soft sucking sounds she made on his cock shifted to deep, guttural grunts as he forced himself further down her throat. Hopper steadily rocked his hips upward, fucking against the back of her throat. With every thick, chortled sound he forced out of her, Hopper’s fantasy of you in her place grew stronger, more intense.

He felt himself already getting close. Hopper clamped his hand around the back of her neck, shoving her as far down his shaft as he could without breaking her. God how he wanted to throat-fuck you like this. The image in Hopper’s mind of you on your knees before him was intoxicating, your eyes weeping mascara down puffy, reddened cheeks, his hands firmly clutching fistfuls of your hair, skull-fucking every thought out of your pretty little head…

The woman whimpered uncomfortably on Hopper’s cock, attempting to pull away as he locked her mouth in place, her nose pressed into the wiry hair of his bush. Her hand smacked Hopper’s thigh in protest, as warm streams of cum shot against the back of her throat. Hopper groaned deeply before releasing her neck, his eyes still closed. In Hopper’s fantasy, you were licking your lips up at him, thanking him. In reality, the woman in his bed was coughing and looking at Hopper with nothing but contempt.

Her palm striking his cheek brought Hopper out of his fantasy, his eyes flashing open. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” she spat, her voice thick, eyes red and tearful. Hopper reached beside him for his cigarette, then stared at her blankly before mumbling “…too rough?”

The woman’s eyes widened, but she composed herself quickly. Shuffling off the side of Hopper’s bed, she hastily pulled his shirt off over her head, and threw it at him, a little disappointed when he barely flinched. “You know, I’d heard a lot of rumors about you,” she said, picking her own clothes off the ground. Hopper watched her dress herself, enjoying his cigarette in silence. A light sheen of sweat covered forehead and chest, rising and falling slower as his breathing returned to normal. At this point, the only thing he wanted from the woman standing in front of him was her absence.

“That you’re a real piece of shit,” she continued, her voice like acid. “That you use women; fuck one and then move on to the next best thing, I guess.”

Hopper exhaled a cloud of smoke in her direction as she stared him down, defiant. “You know what I’ve heard some of the women in town call you, Hopper?” she asked, and he shrugged disinterestedly.

“Hop on and Hop off, that’s what they call you,” she replied. “Because that’s what you do. Like I said-.” She tucked her shirt into her pants aggressively. “-A real piece of shit. And now-.” Her fingers dug through her purse, finding her car keys which she removed and held onto. “-I know all the rumors are true.” She turned on her heel and left Hopper sitting in his bed, his cock softening against his thigh.

Hopper showered and had something to eat before leaving for the station. He wasn’t on duty today, not officially, at least. But he certainly was going to be working, albeit on a private case opened exclusively by him. He intended to learn everything he could about Steve Harrington, the man you’d introduced yesterday as your boyfriend. The man who was allowed to fuck you, whose too-happy smile and boyish charm had irritated Hopper beyond measure.

Hopper had experience as a detective from his years spent in New York. He’d returned home to Hawkins of course, after the death of his daughter and subsequent breakdown of his marriage. Those years felt like a lifetime ago now, but Hopper planned on putting the skills he’d learned as a detective to good use in his investigation of Steve Harrington. As Hopper pulled up to the station, it occurred to him that his craving for you was about to descend even further into obsession. But it was your fault, he reasoned, for introducing him to Steve in the first place…for dangling that relationship in Hopper’s face, unwittingly playing a role in strengthening his need to have you…

────────────────────

Hopper made a generic excuse to those at the station about coming in while off duty to finish some paperwork he’d neglected the previous week. He entered his office and got straight to work, using every resource at his (ample) disposal to learn everything he could about your boyfriend. And by the end of the day, when the sun was beginning to set warm and amber over Hawkins, Hopper knew Steve Harrington’s life story by heart. The profile he’d compiled of Steve was depressingly positive. Steve was a good kid, rebellious at times but he’d never been in any serious trouble with law enforcement. No arrests, no charges, a basically spotless record with few indications that your boyfriend was anything less than…perfect.

Hopper grit his teeth behind his lips. He stared down at the considerable information in front of him, notes he’d compiled from interviews conducted via phone to everyone Steve knew and had known, spanning his entire life. Nearly everyone in Hawkins was fond of Steve, and the Harrington family in general. Steve’s mother in particular was a very respected member of the community, mainly due to her work with various local charities. The Harrington’s were wealthy, and used their prosperity to help those less fortunate than themselves.

Steve had worked as a lifeguard at the Hawkins Community Pool, and his coworkers had fond memories of their time knowing him. The only people who did seem to have any grievances with Steve were some of the former students he’d interacted with in high school, who said he could be a bit of a bully at times, if you rubbed either Steve or his group of friends the wrong way. He’d apparently been christened the obnoxious title “King Steve,” during his time at Hawkins High; but otherwise, Steve seemed to have completed school without much fanfare. In total, all of Hopper’s evidence painted a picture of Steve Harrington as a good hearted young man with a bright future ahead of him. And Hopper would have approved of Steve, could maybe even have been fond of him, if only Steve hadn’t had you. Hopper leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head. The hours he’d spent sitting behind his desk had left him cramped and fatigued, a cruel reminder of his age and that a young man like Steve Harrington probably never experienced these sorts of aches and pains that Hopper occasionally found himself victim of.

He looked behind him through the office window, noting the sunset. A thought occurred to Hopper, and maybe he should have squashed it as soon as it appeared, but…he didn’t. Instead of leaving it, Hopper let the thought roll around in his brain, and it didn’t take long for him to be consumed by it…

It was a Sunday night. You were very likely with Steve right now. If Hopper was lucky, he could probably find the two of you together, and…Hopper wasn’t sure where he’d go from there. But he needed to see you, needed to know how you interacted with Steve when no one else was watching. If you were really, truly happy with the boy…?

Hopper left the station with a spring in his step. He felt a glimmer of hope in an otherwise fruitless day. Sliding behind the wheel of his Blazer, Hopper decided to begin by visiting the two places you were most likely to be this evening: Steve’s house, and yours. His visit to the Harrington home proved unhelpful, as neither your car or Steve’s were there. Hopper drove through downtown and found your house easily. He’d never been there personally, but he of course knew the address. Your car and a vehicle with plates matching Steve’s were parked in the driveway. Hopper slowed the Blazer quietly to a stop a couple of houses down, and peered through the windshield, hoping for even a glimpse of you.

Unfortunately for Hopper, he couldn’t see anything from such a distance. So he left his vehicle and walked closer to your house. Hopper was grateful for the darkness concealing him now, the dull streetlight allowing him coverage while he (admittedly) stalked you and Steve. Hopper waited beside a tree in your front yard, hoping it would further conceal him. Growing restless and frustrated, Hopper was considering walking back to his car and leaving for home. But movement in one of the upstairs windows gave him pause. With no curtains and a light illuminating the room from inside, it was easy for Hopper to notice if that light was interrupted. If someone walked between the light and the window, Hopper would be able to tell; and someone did…you. Wearing an adorable sundress, you were obviously dancing to a melody Hopper couldn’t hear from his place outside. You were…enchanting. Hopper found himself smiling while he watched you, twirling and moving your lips to the lyrics, looking so sweet and happy. Hopper noticed the shift in light again, and how your eyes seemed to focus on something else in the room. Your smile shifted, becoming flirtatious, your teeth settling over your bottom lip. Teasing. Seductive.

Hopper tried to see around the edge of the window who you were looking at, although he already knew it was Steve. As if proving him right, your boyfriend entered the frame through which Hopper was viewing you, and gently pulled you in for a kiss.

Hopper’s jaw tensed, the knot in his stomach tightening. The scene in front of him was supposed to be private; but Hopper had no intention of turning away. He’d never seen you so…exposed. The soft curve of your shoulders in that dress, the way they trembled slightly as Steve gently removed the straps…Nuzzling his nose against the soft skin revealed there, Steve pressed his lips to your shoulder in another, more intimate, kiss. Hopper swallowed, a conflicted mix of jealousy and arousal stirring within him. He realized he’d inadvertently placed his wrist against the growing tent in his jeans. Hopper pressed himself against his wrist, testing the feeling. Would he be able to come watching another man fuck you? A man that wasn’t him?

His breath was shallow, lips pressed firm in a tight line as watched. Watching…that’s all Hopper was doing. While Steve’s hands and lips explored your shoulders, your neck, the only person Hopper was able to touch was himself. Pathetically, frustrated, he reached for his zipper and tugged it down. The moment Hopper’s palm wrapped around his cock was also the moment Steve went to his knees before you…

From Hopper’s vantage point, he couldn’t see Steve’s face, only the back of his head and hair, which your fingers had laced through tenderly. Steve’s face was pressed between your thighs, his head bobbing rhythmically as he ate you. Hopper exhaled deeply, a heavy breath leaving his chest. How he longed to taste you, to feel your sweet, ripe cunt gliding up and down along his tongue. Hopper imagined what you must taste like, how wet you became when you were being licked, if you got off like this? His cock twitched in his fist, a pearlescent bead of precum blooming at the tip. Hopper’s eyes were drinking you in as Steve drank at your cunt.

Your head tipped back, the soft smile on your lips replaced by concentration, your eyebrows knitting together in pleasure. Steve’s big hands groped up your thighs, lifting the back of your dress, giving Hopper a full view of your ass. Hopper groaned low in his chest at the sight of you, exposed for him, so vulnerable yet unaware of your vulnerability. You’d never guess your boss was watching you right now, tugging his cock in the darkness, behaving like an animal and not like a man worthy of the power and position he held.

Steve’s face appeared from between your thighs, his chin slick with cum. Hopper swore he could taste you on his tongue, the warm heat of you, candied maple sweet. You shook your head at Steve and the boy grinned, saying what Hopper interpreted to be “more, baby?” And you nodded, your hands going to Steve’s shoulders as you leaned into him. Hopper’s cock pulsed against his palm as he imagined you requesting more from him, more of his tongue, licking places inside you no other man ever had. His knees felt weak, his stomach knotting at the scene unfolding before him.

Your right leg was wrapped around Steve’s face now, fully obscuring him from Hopper’s view, which Hopper was grateful for. Your body trembled, the muscles in your thigh tensing where you had draped your leg over Steve’s shoulder. Your fingers gripped the fabric of Steve’s shirt, clenching it in fistfuls. How Hopper wished he could hear the sounds you were making as you came. He groaned watching your body shiver and convulse through your climax, the way you curled your hips upward and humped Steve’s face as hard as you could, the way your mouth opened in a perfect O as you uttered what Hopper could only imagine were the prettiest moans to ever spill from any woman’s lips…

Steve remained on his knees a moment longer, letting you grind and rut against him till you were fully sated. He then rose to his feet and took you in his arms, letting you melt against him, your legs weak and mind gone soft. Hopper watched as Steve kissed the top of your head, your hair sticking to the sides of his face. Steve was completely soaked in you, from his forehead to the neckline of his shirt. Hopper wanted to be drenched in you, for you to rub your cunt on his uniform so he could have your scent with him all day long. He seethed inwardly with jealousy, longing to know what the room smelled like right now, with your cunt so wet and dripping down your thighs. Steve took your chin in his hand and gently tipped your face to his. “Open,” he said, and you parted your lips obediently. Hopper felt himself edging closer as he watched you accept your own cum from Steve’s mouth as he spit it into yours.

“Fuck yes,” Hopper growled softly in the darkness. “Take it, baby, take your own cum like a good little girl…”

Steve took advantage of your mouth being open for him, pressing his tongue between your lips. Hopper watched the muscles in your face and Steve’s move as you explored each other, tongues wrestling together as deeply as possible in the deepest, dirtiest kiss Hopper had ever witnessed. He watched as you sucked the tip of Steve’s tongue, not letting him go, and the mischievous grin that pulled your lips. Steve said something to the effect of playfully scolding you, likely for being greedy, Hopper imagined.

Steve whipped you around by your shoulders and bent you over at the waist in front of him. Steve’s cock was visible now, long and thick, his tip wet and ruddy. Hopper was relieved to see that he and Steve were similarly equipped; you’d be able to take a dick as big as Hopper’s without the discomfort he’d been afraid of potentially causing you. Steve placed one hand on your back, forcing your head down, obscuring your face from Hopper’s view. Since he could no longer see your face, Hopper watched your ass, the way Steve spread your cheeks apart and spit between them. Steve held his cock at the base and rubbed it up and down between your thighs, spreading your slick over your hole. And when he penetrated you, sinking into your ass, Hopper swore he could feel you gripping him, too.

Steve rocked his hips back and forth gently at first, gliding in and out slowly to adjust your hole to fit him. When he’d opened you up sufficiently, Steve’s thrusts came harder. Hopper’s forehead creased, a grunt of pleasure falling from his lips as he increased the speed at which he was fucking his fist, keeping in time with Steve’s thrusts. God he wanted you, needed you. Hopper imagined your ass bouncing back against him, his heavy balls slapping your cunt while he took you from behind. He wanted to fuck you every single way Steve ever had, just to do it better.

Steve’s fingers dug into your hips, leaving indentations in your flesh that Hopper wanted to soothe away with his tongue. Steve stilled inside you just long enough to remove his shirt, pulling it over his head and discarding it to the floor before resuming his pace. The perspiration whetting Steve’s tanned skin shimmered in the darkness, matting the thick nest of hair covering his chest. He reached forward and grabbed a fistful of your hair, arching your back, tilting your chin toward his. “Open,” Steve ordered again, spitting into your mouth before releasing your hair and letting your head fall forward.

Hopper felt weak as he watched you, the way you behaved so well. He wondered if Steve was a good master to you, if he rewarded you often for being so submissive and obedient? Hopper knew that he would give you whatever you wanted, for being such a good girl, for accepting his cock in your ass and his spit down your throat like the dirty little whore you were…

The tension in Steve’s face increased, his lips parting. Hopper watched your ass bounce against Steve as he slammed into you with a few final thrusts that had him fully buried inside you. As Steve ejaculated up your ass, Hopper came all over his hand. Cum dripped down Hopper’s fingers and slipped between them, and he couldn’t stop. The burn of overstimulation should have forced his hand away, but Hopper was still hard somehow, the cum covering his fist only facilitating his need to keep going. Hopper’s eyes were heavy-lidded, vision hazy, his mind completely awash in the sensation of his over-stimulated cock in his hand. He watched through bleary eyes as Steve pulled out of your asshole, cum dripping from his tip and between your cheeks, down the backs of your thighs as you rose to a standing position. Hopper’s cock ached, angry, hurting and yet still he needed to fuck himself, drunk on the image of you, your tits hanging out over your sundress, your hair a disheveled mess framing your face, the sweet and sinful expression of pleasure spreading your lips into the most beautiful smile Hopper had ever seen…

His cock was red and taut in his fist, slick with cum as he used it like lube to fuck himself. Hopper came again, growling into his teeth, spilling more cum onto his fist and the ground beneath him. Gasping for air, he fell against the tree beside him, releasing his spent cock, finally satisfied, from the white-knuckled grip he’d had on it for the past thirty minutes. Hopper panted against the tree, grateful for the cool night air that filled his lungs, replenishing him. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, and pulled a pack of Camel’s from his pocket. Removing a cigarette, Hopper placed it between his lips and prepared to light it, his eyes casually flicking up to the window again. He was hoping to see your body one more time before putting his cock away, and having his cigarette on the drive back home.

But Hopper’s stomach dropped when he looked up at the window, his heart thudding to a brief standstill when he saw you, looking down at him. Your chest was still bare, still peppered with sweat and heaving softly from sex. Your eyes were wide but not alarmed. Hopper tried to read your expression beyond that, but…after all, how could he possibly guess what you were thinking in a moment like this?

What even was this moment, Hopper wondered? How could he face you at the station tomorrow morning, knowing that you were aware of his secret? That he’d watched you getting fucked in the ass through your bedroom window? How long had you known he was there, Hopper wondered? Were you aware that he’d just come all over himself because of you, that his semen was beaded on the grass in your lawn?

Glancing past you briefly, checking for your boyfriend, Hopper was grateful at least that Steve wasn’t there. Backing away, Hopper readjusted himself into his jeans, forcing his eyes away from yours and that impossible-to-read expression they carried. He practically ran to his car, lurching himself inside and speeding away as fast as possible, not caring how much noise he made. Hopper just needed to get out of there, away from your house, your street, your eyes, NOW.

He drove home recklessly, shame chewing at his gut. Hopper wondered if you’d tell Steve, if you’d tell everyone in Hawkins? He questioned if life as he knew it was over?

Hopper stepped inside the shower and turned the water pressure as hard as it would go, and as hot as he could stand it. Letting the water wash over him, Hopper imagined he was melting away the sin he’d committed. But in reality, he couldn’t wash away what he’d done. He’d have to face you tomorrow, look you in the eyes…and accept whatever fate you presented him…

PART THREE

278 notes · View notes

julesclues · 2 years ago

Text

Falling In Love - Headcannons

Warnings: none

Word count: 383 words

Pairing: Eddie Munson x afab!reader

Summary: Eddie Munson realizing he’s in love with y/n and one day confessing

Eddie Munson had always thought of y/n as just a friend. They had grown up together in Hawkins, playing games and exploring the town's many secrets. But as they got older, Eddie began to see y/n in a different light.

It started with little things, like the way she laughed at his jokes or the way her hair shone in the sunlight. He found himself wanting to spend more time with her, to make her smile and hear her voice.

At first, Eddie didn't know what to make of these feelings. He had never thought of y/n as anything more than a friend, and he didn't want to risk ruining their relationship.

But as he spent more time with her, he began to realize that his feelings were more than just a passing crush. He was in love with y/n, and he couldn't ignore it any longer.

It hit him one night, as they were sitting on the roof of her house, looking up at the stars. Eddie was struck by the beauty of the moment, the way the sky seemed to go on forever and the peace of being with y/n. He knew in his heart that he wanted to be with her, to make her happy and be by her side no matter what.

It was a scary realization, but Eddie knew that he couldn't keep it to himself any longer. He turned to y/n, his heart pounding in his chest, and told her everything.

"I don't know when it happened, but I've fallen in love with you, y/n. I want to be with you, to make you happy and share my life with you. Will you be my girlfriend?"

Y/n looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, Eddie feared that he had made a mistake, that he had ruined their friendship forever. But then she smiled, a soft and beautiful smile that lit up her face.

“Yes, Eddie," she said, taking his hand. "I'll be your girlfriend."

Eddie felt like he was walking on air as he hugged y/n, his heart soaring with happiness. He knew that they had a lot to figure out, a lot of new territory to navigate, but he was ready for anything as long as he had y/n by his side.

244 notes · View notes

thyme-in-a-bubble · 2 years ago

Text

snowed in

A/N: i literally got the idea for this fic last summer... and I know I could have written a whole long thing, but I just wanted the smut and the vibes.

summary: “who the hell are you? what are you doing here?”

warnings: Steve Harrington x Hopper's niece!reader, smut, forced proximity, being snowed in, very light enemies to lovers vibes, kissing, fingering, handjob, brief pussyjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, thigh riding, somno adjacent, multiple orgasms

word count: 3465

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Finally, after what had felt like the longest car ride of your life, you stepped out of your vehicle and stretched your legs.

Even with the sun as just a simple memory at this point, the plump piles of snow still illuminated the forest you now found yourself in. Sticking your head back into the car, you grabbed the small duffle bag you’d hastily packed this morning and turned to approach the small, secluded cabin.

This was exactly what you needed. A few days away from everyone. Just you and nobody else.

Upon entering the rustic home, the bag in your hand almost instantly fell from your freezing fingers, being so exhausted from the long travel that you didn’t bother setting it down properly.

Just then, after you’d stepped out of your snow-covered boots, shredded your thick coat and the other winter essentials you wore in order to fight the cold, the bathroom door in the seemingly abandoned home swung open and gave you such a big fright that you nearly sprinted out the front door, clad now in entirely too little to even joke about such a thing.

Your scream pierced the cabin walls as a young man appeared and nearly jumped out of his skin as well.

“Jesus christ!” he held an arm out in alarm, “who the hell are you? What are you doing here?”

It was first now that your buzzing vision focused in on the stranger and noticed that he was in fact only dressed in a towel hung dangerously low on his hips.

“Who am I? Who are you?” you shrieked, trying not to let your eyes explore his exposed skin, still glistening from the shower.

“I asked you first.”

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n, Hopper’s niece! Now tell me who you are before I call my uncle and have him arrest you for trespassing!”

“My name is Steve, and just for the record, princess, Hopper let me stay here this weekend.”

“He did?” damn it… you should have called first instead of just grabbing the spare key and heading all the way there without a single word. “Are-… are you sure?”

“Am I-,” he repeated, sounding offended that you even asked, “yes, I’m sure!”

“Shit… I drove all day to get down here…”

“…and you didn’t bother to call ahead first?” he furrowed his brows and crossed his arms over his broad fuzzy chest.

“Oh, shut up, Stephen!” you wallowed in your misery.

“It’s Steve.”

“Yeah, whatever dude,” you huffed, glumly peeking back out the frosty window at your car, “you’re not the one who has to drive all night in order to get back home,” you muttered dramatically, “it’s not like I can just pull over and sleep in my car when it’s minus-, ugh, I don’t know, a lot outside,” you let your head slump forward and collide gently with the freezing windowpane, hiding none of your despair. “You know what, on second thought, the freezing-to-death option doesn’t seem half bad in comparison to going back home…” you joked against the glass, then quickly added when you glanced over your shoulder to see his face filled with horror, “I’m kidding, though I might fall asleep at the wheel, we’ll see.”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Steve uncrossed his arms to gesture to the living room area, “take the couch.”

“Really?” you gasped.

“But just till the sun comes up, you got it?” he pointed his finger at you in warning.

Waking up from what must have been one of the most uncomfortable nights of sleep you’d ever experienced, you clawed your way out of the mountain of blankets you’d piled on top of you in hopes that it would help remedy your unwavering chill. You’d even hopped in just about all the clothes you’d brought with you, but it still wasn’t enough to make your shiver stop.

Gathering yourself as quickly as you could, you kept up your part of the deal and exited the cabin first thing. Or rather, you tried.

Attempting again and again, the front door just wouldn’t budge. Putting your shoulder into it, you finally managed to shove it open just a few inches revealing the blinding white sight of a mount of snow pilled up directly against the door, nearly coming up to your hip.

“Oh my god,” you sighed, quickly moving to one of the frost-covered windows to get a better view of your obscured car, completely buried under a huge pile of snow, “you’ve got to be kidding me…”

Emerging out of the small bedroom, Steve greeted, “morning, princess. You on your way out?”

Turning your head to look at him, you caught the chill that went up his spine as the small sliver out to the aftermath of the blizzard was just enough to penetrate him to his bones. “Apparently not,” you gestured to the state the cabin’s porch was in.

“Oh, shit,” the sight woke him up more effectively than coffee.

“What do I do? Do you think I could get rid of the snow near the door enough to get out?”

“Maybe, but even if you did manage to dig your way out, that car is first of all completely buried and second of all would in no way be able to drive in this weather.”

“Well, what if I walked? Hawkins can’t be that far.”

“If you could drive then yeah it wouldn’t be too bad. What, do you think you could walk all day in 4 feet, if not more, of snow? You would get hypothermia if you just stepped out on the porch with the way you’re dressed.”

“Oh, I’m sorry that I didn’t have time to pack any blizzard-appropriated clothes, you dick!” you snapped at the striking stranger, “what do you want me to do, huh?”

“There isn’t really anything to do except wait it out,” he stated, then moved to open a small cabinet and rummaged through it a bit.

“Wait…” you echoed, glancing back out the window and letting your unfortunate circumstances sink in.

“Here,” he tossed a thick woollen sweater directly in your face. It was big and undoubtedly your uncle’s, “so you don’t freeze to death.”

“What?” your hands froze in their preparation of the small couch for yet another chilly night of sleep.

Glancing up at Steve in pure shock, he continued with a small eye roll, “jesus, I’m not asking you to marry me, I just don’t wanna wake up to find your frozen corpse on the couch.”

“It’s not that bad…”

“Princess, I could hear your clambering teeth through the walls all the way in the bedroom last night,” he cocked his head a moment, then clarified with a sigh, “just, you stay on your side, I’ll stay on mine, it will just feel like we’re sleeping in the same room.”

“Except it is the same bed,” you blinked up at him, “you want me to sleep in the same bed as you? Seriously?”

“Well, I’m sorry for trying to keep you alive, keep you warm. It’s not my fault the only fireplace is in the bedroom and doesn’t do shit for the rest of the cabin!”

And after a long moment of squinting at him suspiciously, you then said, “…fine. But I swear if this is just some cheap trick for you to try something-”

“Oh my god, no,” he cut you off with a laugh, “have you met you? You’re absolutely infuriating.”

Alright, he didn’t have to say it like that… “Well, good, because if you try anything I’ll stick my uncle on you as soon as I get out of here.”

You had no idea how you ended up like this. You hadn’t started out like this last night but somehow, at some point during the restful night, you and Steve had become rather entangled.

His face was pressed into the side of your hair, and it wasn’t just his strong arm that was draped across your torso, one of his thick thighs was stuffed in between yours as well. It was almost as if he had just rolled over and clicked into place against you.

You could tell by his slow breathing that he was still asleep, although your own got caught in your throat as it dawned on you what exactly it was that was poking your side. The mixture of his morning wood and his thigh pressing up against your panties made your mind suddenly recall not the specific details of the dream you’d just woken from, but the theme it had was now as crystal clear in your mind as the arousal that still dripped down onto the cotton of your underwear and surely soaked Steve’s thigh.

You weren’t completely awake yet, still hazy, clinging to that fleeting memory of your liquid dream. And without even realising it, you began to rock your hips down against his leg, breathing out a soft sigh as your eyes fluttered closed again. His gentle breath seeped directly into your ear and acted as a gentle soundtrack lulling you deeper into that drowsy dawn desire.

You didn’t even realise how deep you had sunk, how long you had grinded your soaked panties over his thigh, it wasn’t till you neared the edge and let out a needy sound, loud enough to burst your own bubble, that you woke you up completely with a jolt, jumping under the duvet and scampering away from Steve.

Swiftly trying to play it off as just a loud yawn, you faked one as you felt Steve stir behind you.

Your body still very much entwined with his own, it didn’t take long for him to notice how his morning excitement was poking you and let out a gravely curse underneath his breath.

“Fuck,” he quickly worked to distance himself from you, the now missing warmth sending a shiver down your spine, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you squeaked, hiding your still-flushed cheeks in the pillow, “you have nothing to apologise for, it’s a totally natural thing.”

“Yeah,” he breathed beside you, his morning voice making you suck in a deep breath in order not to get all worked up again, “totally natural…”

“Stop shaking,” Steve grumbled in the bed beside you, “you’re making my teeth rattle.”

Yet another night had bloomed outside the cabin you continued to be snowed inside of with a man who had over the past day or so moved on from being a complete stranger to something more akin to a forced acquaintance. An acquaintance who had made your pulse spike all day since what happened this morning…

“I-I’m sorry,” you shivered, “how are you not freezing?”

“Guess my body is just more used to the cold than yours.”

Then, without warning, Steve made a split decision and rolled over, wrapping his long arms around you, and drawing you in close. “What are you doing?” you protested, planting a hand on his chest and glaring up at him with wide eyes.

“Would you just shut up and let me help?” his hands tightened their hold on your trembling form, fingers digging into the borrowed woollen sweater that you still adorned, “I won’t get any sleep if you don’t warm up soon.”

Slowly, you let your body relax in his embrace, feeling your bare legs press up against the soft fabric of his pyjama bottoms, and how his whole body radiated heat, making you feel as if you could melt right into his chest.

“Thank you,” you averted your gaze from his entrancing chocolaty ones, bowing your head gently and over time letting your forehead drop into his chest, right under his chin. Eventually, you felt his fingers begin to dance along your spine, drawing soothing patterns, probably in an effort to draw you closer to sleep, but his soft touch only succeeded in the complete opposite, igniting little sparks that travelled through your body and ended at your core.

Your breathing notably changed as you lied there, scared to move in case it would prompt him to halt his touch. As you felt his fingertips begin to occasionally dip down under the hem of your sweater, briefly caressing your bare skin, you buried your face even deeper into his shirt and dug your fingers into the material, breathing in his scent and trying to stay silent.

It didn’t take more than the tiniest turn of his own hip for them to come into contact with yours, within seconds you let out a muffled gasp as you felt the palpable tent in his pants, pressing against you and standing proud in search of your warmth.

Absentmindedly you wiggled your hips gently against his, eyes screwing shut as you heard the prominent exhale that he let out right above your head. One of Steve’s hands instinctively slid down to grasp your hip, though not in an effort to stop them, just holding them steady as he gently attempted a rock of his own against your centre.

“Steve,” you breathed, tightening your fists in his shirt.

“Do you want me to stop?” his fingers slowly curved around your bottom, palming your ass lightly through the thin cotton of your panties.

“No, don’t-, please, don’t stop,” you pleaded into his chest.

Feeling one of his hands glide up to grasp your cheek, he tilted your head back and searched your dark eyes, “you sure?”

“I’m sure, I’m so fucking sure, Steve, please-” your hazy sentence was abruptly cut short as he crashed his lips into yours, seizing you quickly, though when he had landed, he surprised you by slowing down, your own mouth needing a moment to catch up to the unexpectedly leisurely pace, though in no time you found yourself whimpering against his lips as he kissed you like if he had all the time in the world, enjoying every second as he flicked his tongue teasingly over your lips and lapped up your blissful smile.

Your brows furrowed as his fingers found your soaked panties, playing with your clit through the fabric, “you sure you don’t just want my thigh again, princess?” he purred, catching off guard, “just pick up where you left off this morning?”

“You-,” you reeled back breathlessly, both your hands still holding on to either side of his face, “you were awake?”

“Sure was,” he smirked, hooking a finger in your underwear, and pulling them to the side.

“How long?” your chin rose in a silent gasp as you felt him explore your wet petals.

“Every single second,” he gently dipped a finger inside your leaking hole, “fuck, do you know how hard it was to keep my hands off of you all day?” his digit pumped in and out of you slowly, making your hips angle towards him for more, “I’ve never been that turned on during a game of scrabble as I was today.”

“Should have just pushed the game aside then,” you slid your right hand down from his cheek to the bulge straining in his pants.

Dipping your fingers down below the waistband, you grasped his hard cock, “oh yeah? Is that what you wanted me to do? Just make the pieces go flying and bury my face between your thighs?”

“I don’t think I need to answer that question,” you uttered as the noises of your slick heat join in and mixed with the crackling flames still dancing in the fireplace in the corner of the room.

“Have you just been this wet all day, princess?” he joined an additional finger in beside the other one.

Your impatience only grew after you gave his girth a few needy tugs, “well I didn’t get to finish this morning, so yeah,” you pulled his pants down just enough to free his stiff length, the waistband coming to rest just beneath his heavy sack.

“Poor you…” he withdrew a moment in order to yank your panties down your goosebump-ridden legs, “you want me to help you? You wanna cum?”

Not giving his fingers a chance to return, you angled his dick and swiped the bulbous head through your folds, nudging it especially against your little swollen pearl, “please.”

“You wanna cum on my cock, is that it?” he pulled your left leg up to rest upon his hip, spreading your pussy for him and giving him more room to play.

“Yes,” flowed past your lips like a breathy prayer.

Grabbing onto the base himself, he overpowered your hold, “tell me you want it,” he nudged the tip rudely against your clit.

“I want it,” your answers were quick and desperate.

“Tell me you wanna cum on my cock,” he flowed down to tease your entrance.

“I wanna cum on your cock, please, please, please,” you pleaded, turning into complete puddy in his hands.

Thrusting his hips forward, he purposely only gave you the tip at first, slowly, with every unhurried thrust giving you more and more till he was buried to the hilt inside you, balls pressing against your sticky skin. Once he had given you everything he had, his slow movements came to a complete standstill as you found each other’s eyes and as one reeled in the sensation together, catching your breaths a moment before diving into a hungry kiss.

Lips locked, his movements began again, keeping the thrusts long and slow, dragging out nearly all the way, and occasionally truly all the way, before filling you back up in a manner that was both so slow but also hard, a manoeuvre that managed to take your breath away completely every time.

Before you knew it, sneaking up on you unexpectedly like a thief in the night, your body began to tremble again in his embrace, though this time it wasn’t from the cold. Not changing his pace one bit, he fucked you through your orgasm, kissing your cheeks as your eyes rolled back in overwhelming ecstasy.

Still under the covers, pushing through the overstimulating pleasure he gave to you, Steve suddenly grabbed your ass and in one fell swoop manhandled your trembling form, rolling over so you could be on top of him.

“So fucking pretty,” he readjusted the duvet around your shoulders, then slid his large palms down your body, “come on, don’t stop now,” you felt his hand come down upon your immobile ass, your fuzzy brain not yet caught up to the fact that the pace was now in your control, “you can do it, princess,” he fingers dug into your hips, kickstarting their movements, “keep going for me.”

You tried to bounce in his lap, you really did, but with your thighs as shaky as they still were and your walls still clambering down on his dick from your intense high, the result ended up looking rather clumsy, though you didn’t care as you slowly rode out your sensitivity and gathered up the strength for more.

With your face completely buried in his neck, panting against his pulse, you moaned in his ear, “please,” trying to keep up your light rocking.

“What?” his fingertips danced over your spine, “can you not do it yourself? Has my dick made you go so dumb that you don’t even know how to ride it anymore?”

“Steve,” you pouted, smooching your face deeper into his skin.

“It’s okay, princess,” his fingers slid down towards your hips again and grasped them tight, holding them in place, “I don’t mind doing all the work,” your upper body melted into his skin even more, “you just lay here and keep making those beautiful noises for me, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you felt yourself begin to drool as he started to buck up into you.

Completely losing himself to the rhythm, Steve's ever-flowing groans evolved into the most earthshattering moans you’d ever heard, the sound alone making you feel dizzy, although the ridiculous pace he had worked himself up to was more than enough to get your screams to bounce off of the cold cabin walls.

Jerking violently in his arms as your second peak washed over you, the sensation almost being too much to bear, he held you against him, not letting you go till you were more than done and your throbbing pussy had milked him off all of his worth.

Plastered against each other under the toasty duvet, his softening girth still split you apart as his sticky load slowly leaked out and painted his pyjama pants, you murmured weakly into his skin, “so when do you think the snow will melt?”

“I don’t know, I think spring might be a pretty safe bet.”

Peaking up at him, you asked, “are you still in a hurry to get rid of me?”

Glancing blissfully down at you in his arms, he smiled, “I think I could manage if you stayed a little longer.”

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