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superbfics · 9 months ago

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Leighanne!! This little glimpse into their story over the summer is going to be so magical! Already I'm hooked and I need to know more about their pasts and what's gonna happen between these two!!!! 💛

It seems like everyone is on their way to do something, going somewhere they have to be. They brush past you without even a glance in your direction, air pods buried deep in their ears caught up in their own little world. The sounds of dogs barking mingle with cars honking and loud conversations from patio bars the next block over. The city is alive with summer hanging fresh in the air.

Ugh this just pops me right into summer and the setting! You described the city and their neighborhood so beautifully!!! Feel like I could hear everything, feel the heat on my skin 👌🏻

He has a few years on you, that part is obvious with the pepper that spots the sides of his honey colored hair and the scruff that lines his sharp jaw, but it only makes him look better. His broad shoulders are wrapped up tight in a white undershirt, the thick cotton telling you it was the kind that cost more than your phone bill. The black shorts he wears have a hem high enough to almost be inappropriate when you swear you see the outline of what’s underneath. The Nike swoosh near the slit at the top of his hairy thighs. His shoes match the color of his shorts, the On Cloud symbol etched on the side flashes in the light. Two hundred dollars on just his feet.

Sorry. Not sorry. Sorry.

“Steve, sorry! It's Steve, Steve Harrington.” He runs one of his big hands through his hair again, a nervous tell of his you pick up on instantly, before offering it out for you to take.

“I don’t think I caught that, can you repeat your name one more time for me?” Biting your lip into a smile, he narrows his eyes playfully, cheeks blooming, flustered from your words.

You try to cover it up by swooping down to give Bandit a kiss between the eyes. Only it backfires, making it worse when you realize how weirdly personal that was to do to someone else’s dog, despite the more than pleased wag of his tail.

“That - that was, oh god. I don’t know why I kissed your dog like I knew him. Or you. I’m - I’m sorry.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, embarrassment rolling off of you in waves.

It’s not until you hear his laugh, and god is it pretty too, that you finally look up.

“It’s understandable, he’s a handsome guy.” Steve smirks with flirty eyes and it makes you dizzy.

That's so crazy, like who does that? Wild, to just kiss someone's dog when they just meet them. A stranger....🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣

Your voice is lost in the shift in energy, static filling in the air between you when you shake your head ‘no’.’’ His touch is feather light when his fingers wrap gingerly around your ankle bringing your foot to his lap. He makes quick work of your laces, using extra care when he pulls off your shoe. The pad of his thumb rubs over the bruising bone and you notice the way he licks his lips.

“Does this hurt?” He applies a little bit of pressure to the spot just below your calf, his gaze making you nervous as he gauges your reactions.

YES AND I NEED A KISS TO MAKE IT FEEL BETTER STEVEN.

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap one/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Welcome To The Neighborhood

—> chapter two

summary: There’s a Bandit on the loose.

wc: 3.6k

warnings: 18+ series for eventual smut, 12 year age gap, reader is 30 and Steve is 42 otherwise none for this first installment :) it’s a meet cute baby.

author’s note: Here it is! chapter one of this little slow burn series with your painfully hot and confusing older!neighbor!widower!steve. This story will take place over the course of one summer, told in mostly blurbs of your chance encounters and run in’s with Steve. This series will have lots of pining, flirting, mild angst and eventual smut. Most chapters will range from 1-2k each except for a few. I hope you guys like reading about these two as much as I liked writing it & I hope to see you back next Wednesday! 🥹♥️

Series Masterlist // Playlist // The tune:

End of May —

Highways and state lines blur together like the buzzing of cicadas into busy Chicago streets. A fresh start. A new life. No plan - that was the promise you made to yourself ten years ago almost down to the date.

The excitement outweighs the embarrassment of how long it takes you to parallel park the Uhaul when you find that one in a million spot in front of your new home. Your hands are numb from the constant battle between the wind and your steering wheel. The breeze from the lake testing your strength for the last hour of your drive. The machine creaks loudly when you slam it into park, your legs wobbling like jello when your converse hit the pavement and out of your truck.

The city hits your ears like the humidity on your skin. The exposed parts of your thighs stick together when the thick air wraps around you like an unwanted blanket. Taking a deep breath, exhaust stings your lungs. Far away from the only place you’d ever known, it’s comforting the feeling that washes over you. You didn’t come here with an agenda. A fresh start with nothing to lose. You came here just to be you.

The trees that line both sides of your street are lush and green from the moisture. They drape over phone lines, weeping under the heat of the sun. Bumper to bumper cars from all kinds of walks of life make the one way street even smaller. Mini gardens in front of mismatched houses only inches apart. This was your new home.

The three story townhouse is covered in dark green wooden paneling, the floors split up into separate apartments, and you managed to bag the top floor with protruding bay windows. Dumb luck mixed with being on craigslist minutes after they posted, you found the one mom and pop place in the city that fit your budget.

The chipped black metal gate that blocks off the front steps lands at your waist, and runs as a property line against an even nicer house next to yours. One that looks like it belongs to someone, not rented out to a bunch of someones. The bright red brick looks new, and the dark wood steps and patio freshly stained. An oriental rug that matches the house has chew toys with missing limbs littering the front entrance. A porch swing faces you and it sways gently with the wind. Your eyes catch the silhouette of someone on the other side of the stained glass in the middle of the thick mahogany door, and it reminds you to stop being so nosy.

Keys dangling in your hand, you take your first steps through the gate. The metal groans loudly before slamming closed behind you. You jog up the less polished, salt worn steps to your front door and the faint sound of a deep voice catches your ears from next door as you jiggle the lock open. Crossing through the threshold of the entryway you’re not surprised when there’s no reprieve to the heat, but disappointed just the same as you pull at our tank top that starts clinging to your skin. You eye the narrow staircase that curves up leading to your apartment, immediately regretting doing this alone.

It takes you less time to unload than it did to load up, at least that's what you tell yourself as you round to the back of the open trailer. Sweat is slick against your skin and you thank yourself for keeping the previous owner's couch even if you thought it was an ugly shade of green.You stare pointedly at the four heaviest boxes left and you swear they mock you while you try to catch your breath from pushing your mattress to your room. The words ‘winter clothes’ scribbled sloppily in bright red marker make your face twist up.

“God dammit,”you breathe out running the back of your hand across your forehead trying to rally. Your A/C was already in the window and the cool air inside becomes your motivation.

You aren’t expecting the abrupt shove forward or the feeling of paws on your butt, sharp nails digging into the soft material of your shorts. Then you hear it, his voice.

“Bandit! Bandit - no! Down!”

Your hands hit the metal of the trailer stopping your fall under the weight of what you’re now realizing is an over excited fully grown German Shepherd. Pink tongue out with spit flying everywhere, you can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you when you turn around and he starts sniffing all over with a tail that wags a mile a minute. High pitched whines leave him when he realizes how much he wants you to play, but he accepts the scratches you offer behind his ears just the same. Body wiggling while also trying to stay still.

“Hi buddy!” you coo, your voice instantly slipping into the embarrassing one you only use for animals.

That’s when you see him.

The trained muscles in his arm flex when he runs a hand through his hair, catching the stray that flops over his forehead when he comes to a halt in front of you. The bright red leash clutched in his fist matches the color of his cheeks. Big hazel eyes meet yours after lingering on your curves a little too long, making you realize you’re showing off just as much skin as him. Clearing your throat, you tug at the bottom of your yoga shorts, willing them to grow just an inch longer with cheeks burning and not because of the sun.

“Sorry, I have a bad habit of getting him excited before I leash him up. I swear he’s friendly, are you okay? He didn’t scratch you or anything right?”

You’re too distracted by his hands to comprehend his words, tendons moving under taut skin as he hooks Bandit’s hardness. The heat, the move, and the man all getting the best of you.

��Hey -“

His voice brings you back to reality, his brows furrowing over perfect features when he looks at you with genuine concern.

“Yes! Sorry, I’m fine. Honestly! I love dogs. The move in the heat, I think, I think it’s just getting to me.” You smile doing your best to calm the worried look on his face, and you swear you see him flush deeper because of it.

It’s his turn to clear his throat, left hand flexing like he’s looking for a ring that isn’t there. The skin is a lighter shade than the rest of him like there used to be. There’s a beat and an awkward silence before he finally notices the mostly empty trailer behind you.

“Looks like you’re almost done though, top floor?” He questions rocking on his heels a little, pointing over his shoulder to your window. Your A/C is already dripping water onto the pavement.

“Yeah! You live in the building?” Please say yes.

“Me? No.” He coughs a little uncomfortable, while you fight to stop the disappointment from showing on your face. “I umm, I actually live next door.” He winces, almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Anyway, sorry about Bandit. Your boyfriend is probably wondering where you’re at.” You don’t miss the way he assumes with a secret hope he’s wrong hidden behind the mossy greens of his eyes.

“Probably,” you pause, ego boosting when you see him squirm, “If I had one.” You giggle and you hate the way your hips twist a little.

That’s when he does it, he smiles, with all of his teeth. It’s just as blinding as it is contagious, and it makes your skin tingle, giddiness dripping from your limbs. It’s short lived though, like pieces of a puzzle clicking together you watch it disappear. It’s replaced by the same concern from before only with a new layer of disbelief.

“Wait, honey, who’s helping you move in then?” He looks at you stunned like he can’t fathom the answer he knows you're gonna give.

“The same person that drove here - me.” You grin a little proud with your chin pushed up and it makes his lips twitch, the same smile from before itching to come back.

“Let me at least help with these last few.” He peeks behind you, eyes scanning over your messy writing, “They look like they might be heavy.”

He teases you just enough to earn a roll of your eyes, but the grin on your face makes him huff out a relieved laugh. Nerves like a first date twist in his gut when he sees the way you look at him from under your lashes.

“I mean, if you insist…?” you trail off, fishing for his name.

“Steve, sorry! It's Steve, Steve Harrington.” He runs one of his big hands through his hair again, a nervous tell of his you pick up on instantly, before offering it out for you to take.

“I don’t think I caught that, can you repeat your name one more time for me?” Biting your lip into a smile, he narrows his eyes playfully, cheeks blooming, flustered from your words.

Sliding your hand into his, it disappears completely when he wraps his fingers around yours. The softness of his palm is warm like the sun that beat down on you all day and it sends electric currents running through your veins, heart thumping loudly in your chest and you wonder if he can hear the way he can hear it. Minutes pass before either of you make the first move to let go, or at least that’s what it feels like. It’s not until Bandit whines at your feet that Steve finally caves.

“Let me go put him back inside real quick, it’s still a little too hot out anyway and I’ll help you bring the last of this up, tough girl.” He winks with the kind of casualness that makes you question whether you saw it at all and you have to hold in the sigh that begs to slip past your lips.

“I’ll be waiting,” your voice cracks, your confidence slowly disappearing like the sun behind the hazed skyline.

“That - that was, oh god. I don’t know why I kissed your dog like I knew him. Or you. I’m - I’m sorry.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, embarrassment rolling off of you in waves.

It’s not until you hear his laugh, and god is it pretty too, that you finally look up.

“It’s understandable, he’s a handsome guy.” Steve smirks with flirty eyes and it makes you dizzy.

You can’t stop your giggle, the back of your hand doing little to hide your smile from him. Butterflies breaking from cocoons in your stomach as you watch him walk away to that big house right next to yours.

“What exactly do you have in these boxes?” Steve grunts as he follows you up the narrow staircase with two in tow despite your multiple warnings.

“Winter coats, sweaters, maybe some boots...” you trail off trying to think, your disorganization more than evident when you open up your front door to even more boxes and bags spread out in disarray.

“You packed your coats and your boots in the same box?” His voice is muffled behind cardboard as the cool air hits, sending goosebumps across sweat-kissed skin. The low hum does something to dull your nerves when you work up the courage to turn around and finally face him.

“Maybe! Who knows, I’ll find out tonight when I open it.”��

He huffs out a breathy laugh as his broad shoulders almost brush the sides of your door frame. Stepping one expensive sneaker in front of the other into your more than humble apartment, there’s a fleeting moment of regret about taking him up on his offer when your eyes dart around the mess.

“Where am I puttin’ this boss?” His eyes meet yours from around the side of the boxes, playfulness filling the greens and browns like before.

The muscles in his arm flex when he re-establishes his hold on the box, the sleeves of his shirt getting tighter and the whites of his knuckles start to show. The simple brown leather band of his watch strains, and it makes your throat dry up.

“Ummm.” You shake your head, willing your brain to regain its normal function as you start a clumsy walk towards the direction of your bedroom. “We can put them in my -“

Your shoe hits something hard and you don’t have enough time to realize what’s happening until you're already on the ground. Palms flat against the scratched wooden floor and a sharp pain in your ankle. The culprit, an already half opened box labeled KITCHEN you must’ve left in the hallway when you got distracted by something else.

“Jesus, are you okay?” Steve sets the boxes down, pushing them against the wall and out of the way raking his hand through his hair again, it must be a stressed habit too.

“Yeah, yeah, my ego is a little bruised but I think I’m gonna survive.” You try to smile, but only end up wincing when you go to push yourself up.

“Here, let's get you on the couch, let me take a look.” He doesn’t wait for your reply, both of his hands coming out to you in an offering. Stubbornness losing for once, you take them.

He lifts you up like you’re weightless, moving you around with ease as he tucks you into his side. His fingers wrap around the curve of your hip to steady you. He’s warm, the pine of his body wash mixing with the spice of his cologne and it surrounds you in a strong hold. It's a short trip to your couch, his abs moving with each step, and you secretly wish it took just a little longer.

He’s gentle when he untangles himself from you. Soft palms on your elbows to hold your balance as you sit down. There’s a hint of his aftershave that hits your nose as your muscles melt into the softness of the cushions, the day quickly catching up to you. Eyelids going droopy.

“Sitting was a mistake Steve,” you groan with a light stretch of your limbs, and another subtle wince.

“Well good thing you conned me into helping you with the last of your boxes then.” He waits a second before meeting your eyes as he pulls one of your many boxes over to sit on, his lips twisting up when he sees the way you scoff.

“Conned you?! You practically begged me to let you help.” Your head bobs with attitude dripping from each word and it makes him grin. He nods furrowing his brows like he’s hearing you, but despite the limited time you’ve spent with him you knew whatever he was about to say was just going to egg you on more.

“I mean, if that’s what you need to tell yourself sweetheart. I remember it a little differently.” He can’t hold in his laugh when you roll your eyes hard at him trying to ignore the newest nickname.

His knees brush against yours when he finally takes his seat, the hem of his shorts rising higher, running tight against the muscle of his thigh. The cinnamon hair that covers his legs tickles you while the sun hits your bay window with just the right light to reveal an expanse of freckles and moles you didn’t see before under his five o’clock shadow and across the bridge of his nose. God, he’s handsome.

His eyes catch yours like he can hear your thoughts, and for a moment you wonder if he actually can.

“Do you mind?” The teasing edge is gone, his eyes a little more soft when the tips of his fingers tap against your leg.

“Does this hurt?” He applies a little bit of pressure to the spot just below your calf, his gaze making you nervous as he gauges your reactions.

“No,” it comes out a little breathless and he exhales deep through his nose because of it.

“How about here?” He does the same thing as before, only this time closer to your heel and you wince. “There it is,” he hums to himself, rubbing soothing circles as an apology.

“Like on a pain scale of one to ten, I’d give it a three and a half or four” you tell him, when really you’re too proud to admit it’s actually a five.

“Three and a half? You can’t use that. Solid number only,” he scoffs meeting your eyes from under his lashes, the forest inside them turning black.

“I actually think I can do whatever I want,” you laugh incredulously, your toes wiggling under black socks in his lap.

“I guess it is your house, I stand corrected.” Steve admits defeat with an exaggerated sigh before showing you his teeth in a wide grin, his thumb still rubbing circles because it never actually stopped. “Do you have an ice pack?”

Your finger drums against your bottom lip as you think about everything you had packed, his eyes fixated on the way you lightly pull it down with each tap.

“I don’t remember and if I’m being completely honest I don’t think so.” You look sheepish when you admit your lack of first aid supplies to him.

He chuckles lightly, hot breath fanning against your skin with a shake of his head.

“I think I have one, I’ll grab it and bring those other two boxes up. Keep your foot elevated for me tonight tough girl. Unpack your chaos tomorrow.” He mocks the way your jaw drops at his teasing.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were tryin’ to take care of me Steve.” The joke is innocent, at least that’s what you thought.

Something clicks behind his eyes, the warmth draining from his smile when it falls. His brows furrow and he won’t look at you anymore, his thumb stops rubbing those circles, and your foot is placed gently back on the ground. He’s standing up faster than you can catch your breath, faster than you can comprehend. The energy shifts to something distant and the warm summer is replaced with frigid winter. He clears his throat with glassy eyes scratching the back of his neck, and you have no idea what you did.

“Hey I’m sorry if I -“

He cuts you off before you can finish.

“You didn’t do anything, It’s me - look, I’m just gonna go get those things. I’ll leave it at your door, please just elevate your foot. You should be okay by tomorrow.” He doesn’t let you respond, long legs taking him out of your place and leaving you to wonder what you did wrong.

Your head lulls against the back of the couch, staring fixated on the old popcorn ceiling of your living room for what feels like twenty minutes as you replay everything back. Over analyzing his tones and body language coming up empty every time. This was going to drive you crazy.

There’s three raps on your front door, one coming down hard followed by two quick knocks. When you stand up this time, it hurts less, more true to the pain level you gave him as you slightly hobble to answer.

When you open it, your two boxes are stacked where he promised. A dark blue ice pack with a yellow sticky note that says:

beta’d by @superblysubpar 💕 (also made the cute post it for me 🥹)

dividers by @newlips 💗

chapter two

#superb steve harrington AU #superb steve harrington series #AIRWIY 🧡#older steve #neighbor steve

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superbfics · 9 months ago

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THIS STORY IS SO SO SO GOOD GUYS LIKE JUST WAIT I NEED THE NEXT PARTS JELLY PLEASE 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

You always write these beautifully poetic passages in your stories, but this is full of some of my favorites you've ever written I think. Not only just insanely beautifully descriptions of what they're seeing and encountering, but also just the internal thoughts and feelings of both Steve and reader. There's so much power in your words, Jelly! You've hooked me immediately, my heart hurts for both of them, but I'm also filled with hope and reader's optimism. You're a rockstar at providing perfect eases to their tension and situation with sweet and comedic moments too. I can't wait to finish this story. This is another to be printed and put on the bookshelf for sure 💛

The ending of his story has been written–there's no more guessing before turning the page. Loneliness wraps its icy fingers around his shoulder, bringing the comfort of an old friend. He feels lighter now that he's shed the ties and obligations to those he loves. He's free to choose his own death and not without options. Armed and still carrying the backpack stuffed with preparations to survive the last battle, he can walk to Forest Hill, put a bullet in his brain, and fall next to his friend, forever sharing his grave, but he's not there yet. He'd rather go out fighting, and the monsters filling this place will be eager to accommodate.

He’s the hero from the storybooks that you read as a little girl, trading the armor for a leather jacket and flak vest, but still just as tragic. A ghost moving through a fog. His sorrow blends him into the landscape, keeping you at arm’s length. If you had met before all of this. Bumped into him on the street or at a coffee shop, you still would have known that he was someone you could trust.

A fine layer of steam swirls just above the surface of the water, dampening your skin and curling the fine hair at your temples when you reach over the rim to collect a water sample. Carefully, you pour a little into the four test tubes and place them in a rack adding a test strip to each one.

...where do I get a hot geologist reader??? Cause um...I'm very turned on by reader who is supposed to be me but isn't me and I want to be her yet also date her. Help?

“Ahem,” he clears his throat as he works his belt loose and you don’t feel the slightest bit of shame that he's caught you ogling. The way the corner of his mouth lifts tells you he doesn’t mind either.

“You wanna turn around?” He asks, thumbs popping the button on his cargo pants before he moves on to the zipper.

“Nope. I’m good.”

You’ve been looking at life through a wall of rose-colored glass, sweetening your view just enough to avoid reality. Saying the words out loud, admitting it yourself–to him, you’ve crashed straight into it, the broken shards cutting you with the truth.

Another bad decision made with good intentions. The list of I’ll Nevers unfurls in front of you covering the path where your future should be. He had figured it out much sooner than you did. Everything you worked for and planned for was all just bullshit. Maybe if you had someone to hold up a mirror, your list would be shorter.

A war rages inside him, confusion over when protecting you became something more. Something that feels like he’s betraying her, even though she’s a world away. The truth is, he wants you. Your endless hope, the smiles you dole out like they cost you nothing, like you don’t realize that they have become as necessary to him as the air he’s breathing. Every day, the feeling of you belonging to him grows, but it’s all mixed up with pain and resentment. He was to meet death with a calm embrace, but fate decided that peace was more than he deserved. Now he’ll fight with his last ounce of strength to give you one more breath, and part of him blames you for that. He wants inside you, to claim you as his, but he can’t accept your comfort without making the pain at the end worse for both of you.

If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 1 | Empty Streets

Summary: Trapped in the Upside Down, Steve is prepared to die alone until he finds you hurt and in need of help. Doing your best to survive while the world catches fire, is there time for one more chapter in your story?

Inspired by As The World Burns

Special thanks to @myeuphoricmindset for her permission and encouragement. Please go check out her amazing fic.

TW: FemReader, Eventual Smut, Mentions of self-harm & death. No Minors 18+ Series Masterlist WC: 5807

Steve watches the tears run down the flushed swell of Nancy’s cheeks, her delicate fingers pressed to her lips. A sorrowful smile stretches his mouth, his soft hazel eyes meeting her sky blue. The last blue. The gaping maw of the rift stitching closed for good. Forever. With Steve on one side and the rest of them safe on the other.

It was finally over and they had won. He decided long ago he couldn’t live if he lost one of them. So, in a split second decision, he gave his life to save them all. It had to be him. No complaints.

The last glimpse of blue shrinks into a sliver of bright light resembling the waning moon, disappearing until darkness and the red glow of death are all that’s left. He places his hand on the seam of the solid black rock, bowing his head, whispering his last goodbye.

He walks alone through the familiar decaying streets. The buildings crack and groan, pieces breaking off, turning to sand before they hit the ground. With Vecna dead, the Hawkins he created will be swallowed by the desert and the electrical storms until the world collapses in on itself and explodes in something akin to a supernova.

He knew all this when he called for El to close the gate. When he pushed a resisting Dustin through into Robin’s arms. In the end, Nancy, the kids, they were all that mattered. He had to die to become the man they deserved.

The man he always wanted to be.

The wind picks up, blowing the golden-brown strands away from his face as he watches red bolts of lighting scorch through the thick omnipresent fog blanketing the sky to strike the clock tower of the public library. The building stands tall and imposing, still intact in this realm, rotting and covered with ropey vines. A storm is coming. He’ll need shelter soon. Maybe the white and brick house on Maple street. He could crawl into her bed and close his eyes, pretending as he drifts off the sleep that it was a night he snuck through her window. With any luck, he’d never wake up. The ground trembles with the deafening booms of thunder, but as he walks away, it’s a quieter sound that catches his ears.

“Help me, please.”

“Careful,” Steve warns, steadying you with an arm around your waist before taking the binoculars out of your hands, letting them hang by the strap around your neck, “Stop walking if you’re going to use those or you’re going to end up catching your boot in a crack.” He motions to the gaps in the dry limestone bed of lovers lake.

“Where were you two weeks ago?” You ask with a wry smile, yanking down the handkerchief that covers your nose and mouth. “Maybe I’m too clumsy to be a geologist?”

“It’s okay to laugh, Steve,” you tell him when his tight-lipped expression doesn’t waver.

Fourteen days ago, he pulled you from a pile of debris through the raging winds into the windowless back room of a flower shop, where he helped you clear the sand from your eyes and stitched the gash in your leg. He sat on the floor across from you, back pressed against the mildewing floral wallpaper, the sweet putrid perfume of decaying carnations filling your nose with the scent reminiscent of a funeral while he explained where you were and why you wouldn’t be leaving.

As an undergrad from Perdue sent to study the rift, you had been harnessed, hanging just inside the opening of the gate, taking samples when the earth quaked and your tether snapped. If it weren’t for Steve, you wouldn’t have survived the night and he’s protected you since. Taking out stray dogs and a few bats while scavenging for food and supplies. He assures you there are other things out there. Worse things. You’ve heard their screeches and howls between the thunder claps late into the frigid nights while you lay pressed against his warm back—safe.

He casts a skeptical eye your way but you don’t miss how the corner of his mouth rises just a little. “I don’t like being out in the open like this.” His nose scrunches as his eyes roam the rolling gray clouds that keep the Upside Down in perpetual gloaming.

“We need to find water. I can’t keep brushing my teeth with flat Sprite.”

Gallons of sour milk and fermented juice fill the coolers at Bradley’s Big Buy, but the plastic containers of water all sit empty just like every river, well, and stream in this version of Hawkins.

“How many more days are we going to waste on this?” He stands just behind you while you scan the lake bed, so close you feel the warmth of his breath in your hair.

“You have somewhere else to be?”

Entire sections of town have disappeared. Neighborhoods and buildings are falling into unstable fissures and there are fires burning in the east. It won’t be long now but you need this and so does he. Something to focus on.

“Everything in this place is damp. There are constant storms–”

“But no rain,” he counters.

“That we’ve seen. There are plants. There are animals. There’s water. Does it look like the land slopes downward over there?”You point to a spot where the trees are denser and closer to the lake bed.

“I guess.” He squints in the direction of your finger until you hand him the binoculars that are still around your neck. He stoops and leans in close, pressing the glass to his eyes. “Yeah, it looks that way.”

“Then that’s where we need to go.” Taking back the glasses, you set out navigating the dry, cracked terrain. Picking your way through the vines and rocks.

As you walk along, Steve’s eyes stay fixed on a rowboat draped in the coiled, spiked tendrils. He swallows hard, face paling. The pained, haunted look marring his features has the dull ache of sympathy sitting in your stomach like a heavy stone.

“Steve,” your voice stays gentle as your fingers slide against the rough skin of his palm, wrapping around his fingers. He flinches and jerks his hand away.

“Sorry,” he says, like he’s suddenly realized you’re there.

“Are you okay?”

“Fi-“ he clears his throat, “Fine.” He continues ahead of you, walking toward the woods.

"No. No way."

The short, wide, yawning mouth of the cave was tucked at the bend of a steep hill covered by browned moss and woody stalks of dead brush.

"Steve–"

"We're not going in. No shot. It could be full of bats. Without another exit we could get pinned down."

“Then you can wait here,” you say, ducking under the cave's entrance.

After a click, the beam of your flashlight cuts through the darkness and bounces off the glittering limestone that drips down the walls of the narrow passage like candle wax. The darkness presses in, your panting breaths echo as your courage starts to flee until you hear an annoyed “Goddammit” and the heavy fall of Steve’s boots as he comes in behind you.

His eyes follow the beam of his light scanning the cave's high ceiling that’s crowded with sharp tipped stalactites before he wretches them to you, his expression turning wary. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I’m not worried.” Your hand wraps around his forearm sliding down the worn leather sleeve, stopping short of taking his hand, you give his wrist a light squeeze before releasing him.

“Are you always this tenacious?”

“Always.” You cautiously start down the tunnel, watching for loose rocks and small formations, “It’s a character flaw. I’m an eternal optimist. Everything happens the way it’s supposed to.”

“Hmmm,” he murmurs, looking away to study the walls.

After a curve, the passage widens and the rushing of water amplifies, up ahead a faint azure glow highlights a keyhole opening. Steve hands you his flashlight and reaches back grabbing the axe attached to the back of his pack. His hands adjust his grip on the handle as he holds it at the ready. With a silent tilt of his head, he motions you behind him as he pauses at the mouth of the chamber. Keeping the flashlights pointed low, you light his path.

“It’s a ledge. A big step down.” He calculates his movement before hopping down. He moves the axe to one hand reaching out for you with the other. Clicking off one of the flashlights you shove it in your jacket pocket before taking his hand, you try to gauge the distance like he had but your foot slips at the last moment. The clang of the axe hitting the stone floor reverberates through the cave when he drops it to catch you.

“Maybe you are too clumsy,” he comments, both hands gripping your hips. Your hands slide from around his neck to his shoulders, staying pressed against him longer than necessary, your eyes locked with his - the gold flecks a contrast in the soft blue light. The spell breaks and he steps back, bending to retrieve his weapon.

“It’s…beautiful.”

You’ve stepped into a glittering cavern. Luminescent turquoise orbs with trailing silky threads cling to the jagged domed ceiling high above a steaming basin of crystal clear water. The underground world's best impression of the starry night sky. This might be as close as you get to seeing it again.

“I’m impressed,” his axe hangs at his side with one hand on his hip, “You were right.”

His praise has you beaming as you move to the craggy edge of the basin and shrug off your pack.

“Make it fast,” he peers through the steam into the water, “I don’t wanna be around when whatever lives here comes home.”

“I don’t think anything does.” Dropping to your knees, you unzip your pack pulling out the supplies you’ll need and lining them up, “There are no tracks or vines or anything. There aren’t even any spores floating in the air. Didn’t you say they don’t like the heat?”

“What about those things?” His finger extends to the neon lights above.

“If we were at home, I’d say glow worms.” You grip the hem of your sweatshirt, pulling it over your head and placing it on your pack.

“Whatever they are, they don’t seem too bothered by us,” he muses, “What are you doing now?” He steps closer, peering over your shoulder as you lower the rope with your geological thermometer attached at the end into the water.

“Measuring the depth and taking the temperature.” The water reflects the lights making it seem lit from below. It’s so clear you can see the metal tube of the thermometer hit the sandy bottom. Handing him the end of the rope you move back to your test tubes. Pulling out the strips, using your flashlight to compare them to the control printed in the kit.

"It's safe to drink." A wave of relief washes over you. Clean water greatly increases your chances of survival.

"Really? You're sure?" The surprise in his voice is clear. He didn't expect to get this far.

"I mean..yeah," you sit back on your feet, rubbing your palms over the denim covering your thighs, "We can add some iodine to be sure, but tonight we'll have drinkable water."

Hand over hand, he pulls the line out from the water. He lets the shiny metal tube dangle for a moment. The water runs down edges dripping back into the basin before he gives it to you to interpret.

"About four feet deep with a temp of 100 degrees. Perfect." Winding the wet string around the thermometer, you place it back in your kit and repack the rest of your supplies, leaving out your empty canteen.

"Perfect for what?" His brows draw in at the middle as he watches you loosen the laces of your boots.

"What do you think?" You pull off one boot and then the other, removing your stripey socks and then stuffing them inside.

"You're not getting in there," he scoffs, hands moving to his hips.

"Steve," you sigh, standing and unbuttoning your pants and lowering the zipper, "I'm absolutely going in there." The denim material is heavy and damp from the humidity, sticking to your skin as you peel the jeans down your legs trying your best to not let them drag on the dirt covering the cavern's floor. "It’s been two weeks since I've showered. I stink and so do you."

"This is stupid." His head shakes and he looks upwards, eyes roaming the jagged rock walls as you slip your shirt over your head.

"It's a necessity. Besides, hot springs are supposed to be really good for you." Your fingers work the clasp of your bra and it slips down your arms. His gaze returns as you drop the lacey garment onto the growing pile of your clothing. Now you have his full attention. Even in the dim light, it's clear his eyes darken.

Ignoring the way your heart beats wildly, your thumbs hook under the silk of your panties and they slide down your hips, "There's not much point in being shy."

With false bravado you face him naked and vulnerable, letting his eyes drink you in, "We have to take care of each other, right?"

The torrent of water is louder in the absence of his answer as it cascades through an opening in the wall feeding the basin. Holding his stare, you walk along the water's edge until you find a spot where the limestone dips and becomes smoother creating a natural point of entry.

"Be careful." He moves closer watching you step in.

A moan slips from your lips as you sink down letting the heat loosen the tension in your muscles, enjoying the slight sting while your skin acclimates to the temperature. Pinching your nose with your thumb and forefinger, you dip your head below the surface into the quiet depths.

He's crouching at the basin's rim letting his fingers trail through the water when you emerge, slicking back your hair, wiping away the drips clinging to your eyelashes. His lips part and you know what he's seeing, the astral light reflecting in the rivulets running down your throat, over your breasts joining the sheen covering your skin.

"Are you coming in?"

He pulls his hand from the water, fingers flicking away the wetness and you can practically see the gears turning in his head while deciding if it’s okay to allow himself this simple pleasure.

“It’s safe, Steve. You can live a little,” you say with your sweetest smile, bending your knees so you're submerged up to your neck, watching the cracks in his resolve widen.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” He asks with a heavy sigh, unsheathing the knife that he carries on his belt and placing it on a smooth rock at the edge of the pool.

“I’m the one who has to smell you.” Taking a few steps backward to where the basin deepens enough that you can tread water without being over your head.

His Baretta joins his knife before his fingers loosen the laces of his boots. He stands shrugging off his heavy jacket and vest letting them hit the ground with a thwack that echoes through the cave before pulling his dark gray thermal over his head adding it to the pile. Your arms glide beneath the water while your eyes travel the path from the dips in his collar bone over the expanse of his broad chest that tapers into narrow hips.

“You wanna turn around?” He asks, thumbs popping the button on his cargo pants before he moves on to the zipper.

“Nope. I’m good.”

His eyes roll before he lowers his pants and boxers, holding them in front of himself until he catches your gaze and tosses them aside. Your lips part as you suck in a much needed breath. His half aroused cock stands out from his body. Long and thick, the pink veiny shaft and perfectly shaped head bobs, swelling further under your scrutiny. He walks toward the shallow end, and you catch the full smirk twisting his lips.

“Now you can smile.” You splash him as he steps into the water shrugging, his grin continuing to broaden.

His eyes flutter closed as more of his body disappears into the steaming pool, gentle waves lapping at his torso, then shoulders, then neck. A low grown rumbles from his throat just before his head slips under completely. He resurfaces in front of you, muscles of his arms tightening as he pushes the hair from his face.

"Fuuck," his mouth remains parted as he draws out the vowel, a water drop clinging to his plush bottom lip, "This feels good."

It's hard to take your eyes off him in this light. Heat floods your belly, but it’s not the water, you want to be what’s making him feel good. He’s already given away his heart, you're certain, but she’s not here and you are.

"It's nice to be warm. It's so cold here." You drift closer, breathing in the heated air.

"You're cold?" He asks, brows knitting together.

"Sometimes…mostly at night." A pang of guilt has you wishing you hadn’t mentioned it. The last thing you want is to cause him any more worry. "Are these new?" You reach out, fingers ghosting over purple black bruises on his shoulder and chest.

His head bows looking at the spot you just caressed, "Maybe. I can't keep track." He straightens to his full height, chest rising above the surface, water running through the thick patch of chest hair revealing several more bruises in various stages of healing.

"I'm sorry," you swallow hard before continuing, fingers dancing over the freckles on his skin, "I know you're doing this–"

He coughs and sinks back into the water, patting his chest, "I think the steam is loosening up some of that shit we've been breathing in."

His head tips back and you follow suit watching the tiny glowing creatures attached to the rocky dome, their silvery tails gently swaying like they’re blowing in a breeze. There's beauty in their simple existence. Head dropping back down, you catch his stare, he’s closer now, and the way he looks at you sends all your thoughts fleeing.

"It's nice here. Quiet," his arms sweep in arcs just below the surface, hands brushing against yours when they meet in the narrow space between you, "I can almost pretend I’m somewhere else."

"Yeah?" Floating closer, you look up at him from under wet lashes. There’s something in his eyes, a fire, making the gold flecks look molten. The gap between you narrows, his chest brushes your nipples. But it’s gone as quickly as it came. He moves away, scrubbing at his face with his hands.

“Do you do a lot of skinny dipping?” You ask, trying to draw him back in, craving the connection. He peers at you unsure if he should answer.

“Come on, Steve. Tell me your secrets.” Biting your lip to hide the mischief in your smile, you draw a cross over your heart, "I promise not to tell."

He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. “I guess I’ve done my fair share. There was a girl-“

“There always is.”

“Are you going to let me tell you?” With a swift move of his hand, he sends a splash of water in your direction.

“Please, continue,” you giggle with a wave of your hand, licking the water off your lips.

“She and I would sneak out late at night. Meet at the lake to be together." He looks away as he tells you, lost in the memory.

"Midnight Love. Sounds romantic."

“I don’t think she would agree,” his eyes roam the stoney walls where glowing lights fade in and out, “She wanted more and I couldn’t give it to her. There was someone else.” He meets your eyes, wanting you to understand his contrition, “I should have been honest with her. Let her move on. I know better now. I’m all done breaking hearts.”

“Will you be honest with me?” It doesn’t matter what he's done. He’s shown you who he is, and that man is one that you believe in.

“Yes.” The word is heavy on his lips, the look in his eyes confirming his promise. “I can give that to you.”

Nodding your head in acceptance, you feel the shift, bared to each other, the wall between you falls to pieces like the replica of the town that surrounds you. It gives you the courage to ask what you really want to know, “What about the girl you’re in love with, the one that’s up there waiting for you with tears in her eyes? Don’t you think her heart is broken?”

“How did–"

Shrugging, you wait for him to continue.

“We weren’t together,” he confesses, “Turns out I couldn’t give her what she needed either.”

“That’s why you're here? Because you weren't enough for her? Your friends, don’t you think they need you?”

“It's not about her. It's about all of them,” he explains, his voice thick with pain. “Before all this, all the things I thought were important were just bullshit. They held up a mirror in front of me. It made me change directions, made me try to be better. But I moved too slowly and when they really needed me, I couldn't protect them. You know how you said everything happens for a reason?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, this is it. This is my reason. I had to make sure they’re safe. They can all grow up and do whatever it is that they are supposed to do, be whoever they are supposed to be. Staying behind. Letting them go,” he lays a hand over his heart, “That’s how I became who I was supposed to be and I could finally give that to them.”

“Steve…” You want to scream at him that he’s wrong. He had to be enough for them because he was already everything to you. But it would rob him of the meaning in his death, so you stay silent and let the unspoken words sink beneath the water.

“Okay, it’s your turn. You owe me a secret,” his tone turns light, and he claps his hands together, rubbing them back and forth, “Make it a good one.”

“Let’s see,” you squint up at the ceiling, “I started sneaking my mom’s cigarettes junior year and blamed it on my sister.”

“Come on, you can do better than that. I bet a pretty girl like you has left behind a trail of broken hearts. I want the good stuff.”

“You think I’m pretty?” You ask, tipping your head onto your shoulder with a grin.

“You know you are,” his eyes roll, “Don’t try to get out of it.”

“Fine,” you pout, flicking water in his direction, “I don’t think I broke any hearts. Maybe bent a few. My friends are always losing their heads over some guy. Acting crazy. All in the name of love. I always wanted that, you know? To get swept away in some sort of fairytale romance. It just never happened for me. I thought there would be more time. I thought…"

“We’re not going to make it home, are we?”

“Do you still want the truth?” He asks, knowing you already know the answer.

"I had a list," you swallow hard, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. "I thought if we could find water, we could check that off and solve the next problem and the next. Then we'd somehow figure out a way back. You told me from the beginning but I was too stupid–"

"Hey, you're not stupid." He moves a hand to your cheek, brushing away a tear you hadn't realized had fallen. "It's not stupid to have hope."

"But it doesn't matter." Your hand covers his, indulging in his touch a moment longer before pushing it away.

“That’s where you're wrong. It doesn’t change anything, but it matters.”

“I’m starting to feel tired. Would you mind if we leave?” Brushing past, you climb out onto the ledge. The water cascading off your body darkens the limestone floor. Your back stays turned away from him while you yank your underwear on over damp legs. The splashing sounds let you know that he is following suit. Your jeans are difficult to shimmy over your hips without drying off and you skip the bra entirely, leaving your shirt to absorb the water. Once you leave the warmth of the cave, you'll be freezing–you should have listened to Steve.

The cave seems smaller, the walls press in as you finish getting dressed and gathering your gear. Space will give you perspective, although you still dread seeing that terrible red sky.

"Are you‐"

Your breath leaves through your parted lips when his hand tugs your hip, turning you, pulling you flush against his chest. He looks down at you, eyes burning, wet hair plastered to the nape of neck drips water down the column of his throat soaking his thermal. The plush curve of his lips so close to your own.

"You're not supposed to be here," he growls as his grip tightens. "I wish you weren't. I wish you had never met me. I wish..."

The tears spill over your lash line and streak down your cheeks, you can taste their saltiness on your lips. His head dips toward you and your eyes flutter closed, holding your breath while you wait to feel the pressure of his lips. Longing and despair give way to a fear that he'll give you what you want because he grieves with you, and that will never be enough to stop the ache. But his kiss never comes. His touch lingers on your skin once he's let you go and you stand there with your eyes still shut as you listen to him walk away.

By the time you make it out of the cave, the scarlet sky has dimmed to a deep crimson, and Steve decides it’s best to stick to the cover of the trees and spend the night in one of the cabins nestled on the shore among the forest of dead wood, instead of crossing back over the dry lake bed. Mercifully, the rolling storm clouds are gathering west of here, across town, leaving the woods quiet beside the dry leaves crunching underfoot. Your silence is an itch under his skin. He wants to apologize, but he’s not exactly sure what for. He meant the things he said, but he hadn’t intended it to sound so harsh. The light in your eyes has been the only thing pulling him back from the darkness of his own thoughts, but he can’t keep pretending. He’s accepted that this was how his story ends, but the way you look at him tempts him into believing there could be another chapter.

These thoughts and questions, you, Nancy, are different currents clashing in a riptide, and he’s trying his best to keep his head above water. As the mist thins, a tiny cottage comes into view, partially hidden by the brush and the gloom. The flaking white paint and curling black shingles are tinged green with mold. With a lone vine, dry and dead, snaking down from the roof across the weathered door. He reaches out, wrapping a hand around your wrist, conveying with a look that you should wait here for him to clear the inside. Walking up the three stone steps, he unsheathes his knife to cut away the vine. It takes a few firm pushes from his shoulder to get the warped door to budge from its frame. The musty air hits his nose as soon as it swings open. This place has been closed up tight. Steve moves quickly through the small space, checking for any signs of creatures, but it’s untouched aside from a few dead vines wrapped around the exposed beams of the ceiling.

When he returns, you’re standing with your arms crossed over your chest, but the look written across your delicate features has changed to anger. His brows pull together, and his lips part to speak, but you beat him to it.

“I don’t wish that.”

“What?” He asks, confused.

“That I never met you. I don’t wish that,” you move closer until your toe to toe with him. “I’m here for a reason. My life has a purpose too,” you say, laying a hand over your heart, anger and sadness making your voice crack. “If you think you’re supposed to die for them. Then I’m here to make sure you aren’t alone.”

The way his mouth gapes in surprise only fuels your resolve.

“You’re not supposed to be alone.” You turn away and walk inside. He follows, shutting the door behind you.

A chill seeps through the damp mattress and the thick stack of crochet blankets piled on top. Despite being fully clothed, the cold works its way through the layers of material straight through to his skin. He’s lying on his side, staring at the closed door of the bedroom, replaying the words you said over and over. He can feel you behind him. Tiny pockets of heat wherever you connect, your forehead pressed to his back, hands tucked between you, the material of his sweatshirt balled in your fist. He’s still not sure what he should have said. The rest of the evening was spent without discussion. In his head, every sentence he forms is chased away with the image of you standing in the cave with your eyes closed, ready to be kissed. His instinct is to act first and think later, but this time the consequence is your heart, and he’s never been more unsure.

“Did you hear about the drunk geologist?”

“What?” It takes a second for your words to break through his thoughts.

“He finally hit rock bottom,” you deadpan, your breath warming his back. “Do you know what kind of fruit geologists eat?”

His mouth quirks. Somehow you know just what he needs.

“Pome-granite.”

He rolls over to face you. Your eyes gleam in the darkness, lashes fluttering, your lips stretched into a smile, you’re so beautiful, and it makes him feel lightheaded.

“You know you have to be patient with us geologists…we all have our faults.”

“God, these are so bad,” he says, his hand landing on your hip, his thumb finding its way under the edge of your sweatshirt to draw circles on your skin.

“I have more.” Your hands smooth up the front of his chest, gripping the fabric of his shirt, eyes locking with his, and he can see it again, the hope. It’s a beacon in a fog guiding him home.

“Of quartz, you do.”

Your giggles make his smile bigger until he can feel it in the apples of his cheeks. It feels like it’s been forever since he’s felt like this–you make him happy.

“Let me warm you up,” he says when your laughter subsides. His hands smooth over your shoulders until they’re wrapped around your back, pulling you closer, not stopping until your forehead is against his lips and there is no space left between you. Sighing softly, you push a leg between his, until you fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Thank you,” you whisper, but as your warmth fills all the cold places inside him, he knows he should be thanking you.

AN: Thank you for reading. I'd love to hear what you think? Are these two going to make it? Did you spot the easter egg from our friend @loveshotzz? I'll give you hint this ties in to one of her fics. Do me a soild and reblog if you liked it. 💋 -Jelly

Part 2 Here

#superb steve harrington series #ITNC 💛#upsidedown

552 notes · View notes

superbfics · 6 months ago

Text

Oh this is so sweet 🥹 I can't wait to see what more you do with it! 💛💛

The only person he did have was Dustin but how many times can you ask a middle schooler to hang out before it gets weird? Steve didn’t want to find out.

This line made me cackle 👌🏻

You’re wearing the most perfect smile he’s ever seen and he wants to make you do it again.

"The first one, She's Got A Way. It was my Grandpa's favorite, the first Billy song he ever played me" Steve says, looking off onto the rows and rows of records. Remembering a time when he was just short enough to be the same height as them. Rushing around and looking for the most colorful covers while his Grandpa went straight to the B's. Then he'd sit in the very chair he was now, ankles just barely hanging over the edge as his Grandpa played him song after song, in the very seat you were sitting in now.

"He claimed it was the only song he ever heard that perfectly described how he felt about my Grandmother. How the right women could completley turn you around and heal you when you least expect it" Steve smiles fondly as he repeats those words he hadn't in a very long time.

Imfineimfineimfine

I'm not laying in bed crying about a fictional man's fictional grandpa and his love for the fictional grandma

"I'd love to Steve" you tell him, using his name like it now somehow belongs to you and Steve wishes it does.

Cold Spring Harbor

Chapter One - She’s Got A Way 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, instant attraction, invisible string theory, mentions of childhood trauma, mentions of death, coping mechanisms

Summary: Just when Steve figures he’s bound to be alone the rest of his life, somehow he finds you, and for some reason just being near you makes him feel much less alone in the world.

word count: 2k

→ Two

Masterlist

Spring 1985

She's got a way of showin', how I make her feel

Steve hated being sad. Yet for the last six months that was all he had felt. He should be over it by now. He wished he was over it, but everyday he went to school just to see Nancy with Johnathon and know everything that he lost. He had given up his friends for her, and when she gave him up for Johnathon, he had no one left. No happy family to come home to, and no friends to spend time with, especially no girlfriend to love. Maybe that was why it was so hard to get over her, because she was the only person he had left and she left him too.

So he woke up on the first day of spring break, no parents, no plans, no one at all. It didn’t matter that the first warm sun was shining through his window and the birds chirped happily outside. He figured he would always be alone and he was still just as miserable as before. The only person he did have was Dustin but how many times can you ask a middle schooler to hang out before it gets weird? Steve didn’t want to find out.

He wasn’t going to last all of spring break like this so he was going to do the only thing that made him feel better. The only thing that gave him enough motivation to get out of bed and get ready for the day. So it’s not long until he is walking out the front door and towards his car. Yet before he unlocked it he stopped, eyes glancing into the bright blue sky, and deciding against the drive. It was sunny and almost seventy, plus a walk would be good for him. So he stuffed the keys back in his pocket and started down the road.

Town was half empty once he got there, signs showing that the new mall being built was already taking away business. It was sad to see the town that once was so busy become a shell of nothing. Kind of like him he supposed. Yet the sight of the familiar blue door eased his mind as he pushed in the one place he hoped would be here forever.

“Hey man, long time no see” Ron, the owner smiles from behind the register. Steve matches the smile right back even though he doesn’t feel it. He wished he did.

“Hey Ron, how’s business been?” he asks, eyeing the various shelves throughout the room.

“I wish I could say busy, but ever since word got out that Sam Goody was being built in the mall, no one really cares about Ron’s Records anymore” he says and Steve nods, his throat tightening at the thought.

“I’m sorry about that man, you know I’ll be a customer for life” he tells him and Ron nods, smiling at the boys kindness.

“You and your Grandpa both” Ron says kindly and Steve has to look away before tears form in his eyes.

“I’m gonna check some records out” Steve tells him and Ron nods as he moves to the section he knows it will be at.

Finally reaching the B’s his fingers start skimming the records. It feels like he’s passed a hundred Barry Manilow records by the time he reaches exactly what he’s looking for. Smiling to himself he scans which ones are there, determined what would be the best to listen to. Something that for an entire forty minutes could make him feel much less lonely in this world.

“Billy Joel huh?” Steve looks up and nearly freezes. There you are, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and something about the world stops. He’s not one to be shy but it’s as if the words somehow can’t leave his mouth. There was just something about you. “Since when do boys your age listen to Billy Joel?”

“Hey, he’s still rock n’ roll to me” Steve defends, and it’s cheesy. He knows that, but it doesn’t stop you from laughing. You’re wearing the most perfect smile he’s ever seen and he wants to make you do it again.

“I’m not saying he isn’t, just most guys these days don’t know good music anymore” you say, pulling the record out of his hands and he almost gasps at the way your fingers feel against his.

“Well good music to me is just Billy, always has been” he says and you give him a small nod, smile still on your face. He briefly wonders what it could be about you that makes him suddenly so content.

“Cold Spring Harbor? I don’t think I’ve ever heard it” you say and Steve’s heart clenches.

“It’s his first album, he was only 22 when he wrote it. It’s one of my favorites” Steve tells you and the mischievous grin you give him makes his heart stutter in his chest.

“Well let’s listen to it” you tell him, hand grabbing his own, and leading him to the front of the building. In the front window there’s two chairs and small record player in between. They had been there for as long as Steve could remember, he had sat in them hundreds of times. He sits in his, the one chair he always sat in, and you sit, well in the other. His throat dries as he sees you sit across from him in the chair that had been empty for many years.

“What’s your favorite track?” you muse, hands delicately working to pull the record from its sleeve and place it on the player.

"So that's where it comes from" you muse, the record spinning as you turn on the machine. Steve watches as you set the needle on the record, sratching till it finds its groove, and fills the silence between you both.

"Why is it his favorite?" you ask after a few moments, watching the boy as he let's the words sink in.

"A charmer, I'm sure you are too" you say and the shocked look Steve wears has you laughing lightly. It takes Steve only a second to laugh along with you, realizing just how quickly you had revealed him. It's when your laughter calms he realizes the smile on your face has eased his heart more in the last six months than anything else.

"If you must know" Steve says and you giggle again which has Steve wanting to spend more and more time with you.

"Where is this Grandpa of yours, I have a few questions for him?" you ask and Steve freezes, not expecting the words to leave your mouth. It takes him a moment to respond and you sense the discomfort and place your hand on his own. Steve nearly jumps at the electric touch that comes from it.

"He passed away when I was fifteen, right before high school" he tells you, throat tightening around the admittance.

"I'm so sorry, that's awful" you try to comfort but Steve just smiles.

"You would have loved him though. Everyone did. He was my best friend, the only family I really had that spent time with me. Since my Grandma passed when I was ten, me and him made sure to spend all of middle school together" Steve isn't entirely sure why he is telling you this, he just knows your the first person he has been this comfortable around since his Grandpa and he didn't even know your name yet. He didn’t know what it was about you but he figured there didn't need to be a reason.

"That's so sweet, he sounds so special" you tell him and Steve nods, recalling memories he hadn't allowed himself to think about for years.

"He was, just wish he was still around. He was the only person to ever be there for me, front row at every swim meet and basketball game. Was hard going through highschool knowing he was no longer in the stands, but Billy. Well that's all me and him ever talked about. So sometimes, on days like today when I miss him a little extra, I find him in the lyrics of a song" and your heart soars for the boy in front of you. A boy with a deep sadness buried within him. A boy the world hadn't given a chance yet.

"Is he there right now?" you can't help but ask, the last few lines of the song coming through the speakers on the machine. Steve listens, can practically see his Grandpa yelling at him for not making a move. ‘At least ask her name’ he groans and Steve chuckles lightly to himself.

"Yeah he's here. He always is" Steve says and you give him a smile that somehow heals him. "I'm Steve by the way"

"Nice to meet you Steve" you tell him before offering your own name and Steve finds it rattling through his head, the most beautiful name in all of existence, and somehow it belongs to you. The very girl who showed up while he was feeling down and has inspired him without a sound. The beginning notes of You Can Make Me Free fill the silence between you both and Steve sits up, realizing your hand is still atop his own.

"Sorry for spilling my guts" Steve says and you shake your head, wanting him to know that he had done nothing wrong this entire time.

"Don't be, it actually happens a lot. I seem to make people very comfortable. Guess I just got a way about me" and Steve agrees because somehow in just this short exchange you have inspired him to keep on going, reminded him that this is not the end and it won't be all bad. It is like you have some bright light around you and it gives him the strength to keep going.

"Would you maybe want to go get something to eat?" Steve finds the confidence to ask and you beam a smile brightly back at him.

"I'd love to Steve" you tell him, using his name like it now somehow belongs to you and Steve wishes it does. A million dreams of love surrounding you and for the first time since Nancy he finds himself feeling something for a girl he never thought he'd feel again. He just knows he no longer wants to live without you.

"Have fun you two" Ron calls out as you both exit, the record still playing as you both leave it behind. You talk the whole way to the small diner in town, Steve just smiles and listens, loving how everything sounds the way it comes out your mouth. It's as if every word lifts him up as you are walking.

For the rest of the day Steve does his part getting to know you. Making you laugh and flirting where necessary which never fails to make you blush. The sight of your red cheeks alone make his heart soar for you. It's cute the way you show it, exactly how you feel about him. In return you do find yourself charmed by the very boy you couldn’t resist talking to. You wondered where a sweet boy like him had been your whole life and for the first time you aren't as embarassed by the blush on your cheeks as you normally would be.

"I really like you Rosy" he says matter of fact, the nickname falling easily from his lips. You blush at his words again, shaking your head at the boy you figure you aren't getting rid of anytime soon.

"I like you too Steve"

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

#superb steve harrington series

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superbfics · 9 months ago

Text

I CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO EXPRESS HOW EXCITED I AM FOR THIS. I'm already so in love with their relationship and the way you write their dynamic!

Are those hives? She's giving me hives.

And

He can feel her mere existence giving him heart palpitations...

I cackled out loud. This is all so perfect 🤌🏻 like of course Steve's unpacking all her stuff & Robin's talking a mile a minute and just shrugging when Steve asks all of his questions. Also:

"...her opportunity to live who she is out loud and finally be free of the confines a small town puts on someone who looks a little different, thinks a little different and loves a little different."

I truly can't wait to read the magical journey you're about to take us all on 💛

Prologue

SexShop!Steve x Reader : SexShop!Robin x OC

Series Masterlist

Series Summary: Steve and Robin have about had it with Hawkins, so on Robin's 25th birthday, the pair decides that there's nothing holding them there anymore and they start packing their bags. The friends move to Chicago and quickly find an apartment to call their own. As luck would have it, Robin stumbles on a no-strings-attached job offer for both of them - what could be better?! Now just to break the news to Steve…. This multi part story will both explore their platonic relationship and their chaotic experience working at the sex shop together as well as their own paths of self discovery as they plant their roots in their new city and finally deal with the invisible baggage they drug along with them when they moved.

Warnings: no warnings...this time. Some non cannon relationships in this AU but cannon themes and Easter eggs a-plenty.

Chicago: Summer of 1993

It's only his 5th trip up and down the steps in the last hour, and Steve has about had it. Being left to haul a car full of Robin's personal belongings and boxes up the three flights of spiraling staircases to their brand new apartment building while she goes off in search of dinner and some help wanted signs seemed like a good idea at the time. It wasn't until he opened the hatch and saw how MUCH she actually packed did he immediately regret his choice to stay behind. He stood there regretting his current situation in an unfamiliar, bustling and loud city while sweat beaded on his hairline and flush spread across his cheeks in the humid June air.

Muttering to himself as he passes a redheaded teen girl carrying a skateboard who refuses to get out of his way on the staircase, he finally pushes his way through their doorway and he's thankful to feel the window unit he threw in first thing after they arrived starting to rev up and cool down the space. Steve repositions the particularly heavy box full of Robin's things on his hip while he reaches over for his cup of iced water setting on the counter and pooling condensation. Desperate for the reprieve, Steve gulps down an extra large sip and attempts to swallow but all sense of relief washes away as something slams into his whole left side. The glass he is holding ricochets down to the ground while Robin's box of nostalgic memorabilia topples over and spills out too. Hawkins High all over the floor.

"Jesus Christ, Robbie, what the hell!?"

Bending over to start collecting all of Robin's teenage memories, the last threads holding her down to a town that didn't love her as much as she loved it - Steve doesn't hear anything she says when she first lifts her fists over her head and into the air in celebration - barely registering that she body checked the boy as she threw open the door.

"Rob. Robbie, what the fuck are you saying? You're doing the thing… " he waves his hand in her general direction.

"Oh fuck, sorry." Closing her eyes, she takes a deep breath to regroup, realizing now that she came in making a whole lot of noise and saying not a damn thing at all.

She takes a deep breath and with a gleam behind her eye proclaims "I landed us a job, Dingus!" Both fists jolting upwards into the air again, he now sees the job applications crumpled up in her fists and yielded like torches.

"Dude, gimmie that." Steve says. "You're gonna ruin it before I can even fill it out. We can't start a new job being that unprofessional. Christ… . What are we doing anyway? Gotta be better than that restaurant gig we both bombed before we left Indiana."

"Ok so, yeah, yeah this has the potential to be better than that. Definitely better than Family Video. For sure. And there's no stupid costume like Scoops. God. That sucked. We should pretty much know how to do a lot of it already and the manager seems like he's kinda chill. I told him I don't really know much about the ... uh...topic…but uh…that I'm a fast learner and he said we start on Monday and to bring the paperwork with us." She rambles, motioning to the pages Steve now holds in his hand.

"O-oh kay Robin. Details please. You know them in your head but I don't yet. You-you gotta share."

"Ha! Yeah! Sorry about that, I mean…." while she trails off and starts to fidget, Steve immediately knows there's more to the story.

"Robbie. What are you not telling me? "

"It's called The Hideout. It's on Clark St, just a few streets over. 20 minutes walking - tops."

"20 minutes is doable." he says, and then quips back "Man, don't tell me it's a restaurant. I really didn't want to eat shit at that job all over again. I guess I'll take what I can get so we can at least get on our feet… "

" It'snotarestaurantit'sasexshop!" Robin blurts out in one rushed garble of words.

"I'm sorry, WHAT did you say?" Steve stands with his hands on his hips, looking at her incredulously. "Did you say SEX SHOP?"

Steve is freaking out. He's immediately embarrassed for something he hasn't even done yet. He can feel the tips of his ears going hot and shades of red staining his face and neck in splotches. Are those hives? She's giving me hives, he thinks to himself.

"What am I supposed to tell people when they ask what I do?! What are we supposed to tell the kids back home when they start to call non-stop? What am I supposed to say to my DAD, Robin?" He can feel her mere existance giving him heart palpitations while she looks on at him sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders. All he can do is focus on his breathing so he doesn't blow a gasket on his friend.

Among the myriad of other things this move has going for the pair, Robin sees moving to Chicago as her opportunity to live who she is out loud and finally be free of the confines a small town puts on someone who looks a little different, thinks a little different and loves a little different. Steve, just happy for the fresh start and the chance to maybe do things for himself for once, was not really thinking this is how it would all start out, but looking at the excitement on Robin’s face made him soften just a little.

Now pacing back and forth across the entryway to dispel her nervous energy, she looks on at her exasperated friend and he gives her an almost indistinguishable nod of the head in agreement. She smiles softly at him and says, "Anyway, I distinctly remember you once encouraging me to talk about boobies with you, Steve. Lighten up and get ready for tits, dicks…all of it! I'm ready and this city is my sexual awakening!"

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Taglist: @livsters

#superb steve harrington AU #superb robin buckley AU #superb steve harrington series #superb robin buckley series

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superbfics · 9 months ago

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Why don't I live in Chicago next to Steve? Why? Whywhywhywhy?! I find myself day dreaming about it far too much now, that's for sure. Thanks Leighanne 🙄

I'm so happy we found out a little more about Steve, despite it being a bomb dropped. I can't wait to read the next part!!!

It’s obvious he barely got home from work by the black slacks that still cover his long legs, but the dress shirt is missing. Instead the white tank top he wears underneath is all that’s there. Tucked in so it fits tight across his torso, his dark chest hair peeks out the top with a silver chain shining against his bronzed skin. His forearms flex tugging on the tennis ball trapped in Bandit’s tight grip, his sock and slide covered feet plant on the ground for added balance. The smile on his face you swear is brighter than the sun that isn’t hidden by any clouds today and you didn’t realize how much you missed it.

HE'S SO HOT GOD I'M GONNA DIE

You play with Bandit’s ears to try and distract him as you do your best to get the rubber ball out of his iron tight bite, completely losing focus on why you came over here in the first place when you succeed and throw it towards their front door.

Hahahaha I would so get distracted by the dog too & I love how Steve is frustrated by our causal attitude and also totally falling in love with how much we love Bandit too 🥹

“Are you sure? I’m not interrupting anything tonight?” You hope he doesn’t pick up on the hidden ulterior motives in your question, but the smirk he gives you tells you he does.

“No honey, I’m all yours.”

He’s closer now, and you notice his five o’clock shadow is as dark as it was the first day you met. Salt and pepper covering his sharp jaw. The faded fresh scent of his deodorant mixes with the spice of his cologne, and the sweat that kissed his skin outside. You want to bury your face in his shirt and inhale.

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap three/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Mr. Fix It

summary: when your kitchen sink breaks, you ask your new ‘friend’ for help.

wc: 2.8k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. lots of pining, and steve opens up a little about his past.

authors note: this chapter was a struggle for me, lots of overthinking and rewriting. I hope you guys like it though 💗

🌇 chapter one | chapter two -> chapter four

Series Masterlist/Playlist/The tune:

Early June - A Thursday

Your first week as a waitress at The Whale was a whirlwind, long hours on your feet leaving you exhausted every time you climbed your staircase each night. Dishes and laundry piling up around your apartment, so when you finally have a day off it is dedicated to playing catch up. The smell of coffee fills your apartment as you stretch looking out your living room window. New curtains ready to be hung leaning against the wall.

His car is gone, the normal work day in full swing for most of the city. You haven’t seen him since that night in the alley, your schedules seeming completely opposite now. Part of you hopes maybe today you’ll at least catch a glimpse of your new friend and his cute dog.

Most of the day is spent going up and down your stairs to the shared laundry room in the basement of the building. In between loads is filled with distractions of things to do in your room and whatever you left playing on your TV. Your eyes actively avoid the dishes that have piled in your sink while you actually fold your laundry. It is only when you don’t have any more excuses that you finally drag your pink fuzzy slipper covered feet over to the one chore you’ve been dreading all day.

“I gotta get better at washing as I use,” you grumble like every other time you find yourself here.

You only get two plates and a bowl deep when the sink starts to clog, groaning annoyedly you flip the switch of the disposal only to be met with the sound of metal grinding against metal. A smell resembling burning plastic hits your nose and you’re quick to flip it off, the water still refusing to drain. Slamming down on the faucet handle, you wait a couple of minutes before daring to reach in to see if a piece of silverware got stuck in there. When your fingertips meet nothing but warm water, panic starts to set in.

You flip the switch one more time out of curiosity, and the same unbearable sound drowns out your TV. You huff turning it off, hands finding your hips as you look around for a solution you know you aren’t going to find without calling someone. Bandit’s bark catches your ears, and you hate that all your frustrations seem to disappear at the thought of seeing him.

You pad over to your window, eyes going big and head dropping at the sight that’s waiting for you.

Of fucking course.

It’s somehow even hotter than it looked outside, and you immediately regret not changing out of your warm slippers, but he’s already spotted you with an offering of a friendly wave with his big hand. He gets the ball away from Bandit, losing his footing surprised, shock painting his features before the dog starts jumping on him. Steve raises it over his head, keeping Bandit too distracted to see you at the gate that he’s signaling for you to let yourself in from.

Your hand shakes a little when you unhook the latch, nerves from never being at his house before and not seeing him for the past week try to get the best of you. He smiles when he looks at you from over the rim of his sunglasses letting Bandit win finally but it’s too late for toys when he spots you. Bounding over with big paws, Bandit wastes no time jumping on you, making you stumble back a little before catching him in your arms.

“Bandit! Come on, don’t knock her down,” Steve scolds, but those pretty giggles that he loves so much come out when his dog starts licking your cheek and it tells him all he needs to know.

“Hi buddy, I missed you too.” You grin, your animal voice coming out only a little when you feel Steve’s stare fixated on you.

Bandit wags his tail jumping down satisfied before grabbing his ball again bringing it back to you to continue the game you interrupted.

“Hey tough girl.” Steve smirks shoving his hands in his pockets watching you accept his dog’s invitation. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“Oh my god, my sink!” You gasp, your hand covering your embarrassed grin.

Steve’s eyes widen, his eye brows marrying together in the middle with concern.

“Is it flooding?!” He asks incredulously as Bandit trots back over carefree.

“No, not flooding.” You assure him going back in for the toy, and you can tell your nonchalance is getting to him. “My disposal is making sounds and it smells like plastic burning every time I run it, so the water won’t drain.” You get the ball away from Bandit cause he lets you, only continuing your explanation after you throw it again.

“I was hoping my good friend and neighbor could come check it out?” You try to lighten the mood with a smile but the concern never leaves his face, the pink that dusts his cheeks tells you he’s not unaffected by your ‘charms’ though.

“It’s probably something stuck in the pipes, let me get some tools and I'll come back with you.” He speaks like he’s sure he knows that’s it, snapping his fingers at Bandit to get him to wrap it up.

“Are you sure? I’m not interrupting anything tonight?” You hope he doesn’t pick up on the hidden ulterior motives in your question, but the smirk he gives you tells you he does.

“No honey, I’m all yours.”

It’s strange having him in your apartment again, and god you wish he had put on a real shirt when he got his tool box. The tops of his shoulders are covered in even more freckles, the tint of redness from the sun becoming obvious in your harsh kitchen light. The muscles in his arms twitch in the cold air of your AC that works harder with the heat of two bodies in your small space.

His gaze falls on your full sink and you immediately regret going to get his help. Silently cursing your hormones for getting the best of you.

“Sorry, obviously I was trying to do them. It’s been a long week, I started a new job serving and-“ embarrassment makes blood rush to your cheeks as you go to move past him in an attempt to clean some of it up.

“Hey, you’re fine.” He grabs your arm before you can make it, long fingers wrapping around you in a firm grip but still soft enough for you to pull away if you really wanted to. “I’m not judging you.”

His lips tug into a warm smile when you don’t try and break away, the gold specs in his eyes lighting up while his thumb brushes against your heated skin in a soothing motion. It only grows wider watching how your shoulders give in to his whims with a slump.

“Just know I was about to do them!” You argue weakly with a point of your finger and he just nods, the corners of his mouth twitching in an effort not to laugh at your distress.

“How else would you know your sink is broken?” His voice wavers when he tries to play along with a straight face, but it becomes impossible when he catches the roll of your eyes. You do that a lot to him. He likes it.

“Better watch yourself Steve,” you warn with a grin wrapped around your words that hold no real threat, but it’s hard to fight it when he still hasn’t let you go.

“You shouldn’t threaten the guy that’s here to fix your sink honey. That’s not very smart,” he tsks looking down the edge of his nose at you with squinted eyes, “you’re lucky I’m so nice.”

You immediately feel the loss when he drops your arm and if it wasn’t for the wink that followed, you would have missed it more.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you tease trying to play off how flustered you are but the slight shake in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed, confidence smoldering in his stare before his teeth come out in a blinding smile.

“Let me go take a look, see what I can do. Your dishes aren’t offending me, I promise.” He does his best to ease the last bit of self consciousness still hanging onto the way you look over at the small mess before walking away with tools clanking in the metal box loudly behind him.

It had been almost an hour with him like this.

He’s on his back, long legs extending over the small space of your kitchen tile. Slides kicked to the side, white sock covered feet wiggling with his movements under your sink. The top of him is hidden, the tank top that was tucked in now loose and pulling up, giving you the hint of his happy trail. You try not to stare at the way the muscles in his arm harden with each twist of his wrist, or the grunts that leave him every now and then.

You find out he works in marketing for The Cubs and used to play baseball himself in high school, laughing when you confess how much you don’t like sports. He promises to take you to a game sometime saying he knows you’ll have fun and you try not to think too much into it. He knows you're rolling your eyes again when you answer “sure” with a smile in your voice. He lets you complain about your first week as a server, surprising you when he asks questions because he’s actually listening.

Metal clanks loudly, cutting you off and drowning out the playlist you chose to fill any empty gaps in conversation that never seemed to happen. An “I’m fine” coming out from under the sink just a little too even to really sound ‘fine’.

There’s a beat before you see him reach for the pliers at his hip, readjusting like he’s set his sights on the culprit.

“Wait, I don’t think you ever told me - hmmpf - what - come on - restaurant you work at?” He readjusts again.

“The Whale,” you give him an answer, hypnotized by his ability to multitask like this.

“Oh, my wife loved that place.” He says it casually like he didn’t just drop a Hiroshima sized bomb on you, or maybe he does and that's why he chose to do it hidden from sight.

You're thankful he can’t see the way your jaw drops, or the disappointment that fills your eyes. There’s a beat of silence before you answer, trying to hide the shock in your voice.

“Wife? I didn’t know Bandit had a Mom.” You look up at the ceiling, mouthing the work ‘fuck’ into the void.

There’s another clank of metal followed by a ‘there you are.’

“Erm - I mean - umm, technically I got Bandit after - I didn’t want to use ex wife, I just don’t know the proper term to say I’ve been widowed for five years.” He grunts one more time before he starts shimming out. “I do think I found the source of your clog though.”

Your favorite stray clings to his forehead when you get to see his face again, a pleased smile pushing his cheeks up despite the new information he just told you as he holds the ring you thought you lost during the move.

“My ring!” You gasp, jumping off your couch, the opal stone catching in the setting sunlight.

“Clearly, you do, do your dishes.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you laughing when you shove his shoulder lightly snatching your jewelry back.

“You’re hilarious Steve.” The tightness that had formed in your chest relaxes, his smile becoming contagious.

He likes the way you say his name and the way your lips twist up every time you do. It’s sweet enough to ease the guilt that he’s fought with since the day he met you.

“I know,” he huffs as he pushes himself up, reminding you how broad he is when he’s back on his feet. “You should’ve seen my speech at the Legends of the Ball gala last year.”

He gets that eye roll he didn’t get to see earlier, and god he doesn’t want to leave yet but when you slip the ring onto that finger he knows it’s time to go. For now.

He clears his throat before turning around to test his work. Flipping the switch, the sound it’s supposed to make returns, the water in the sink draining quickly.

“Annnd, all back to normal.” His grin is proud when he turns it off. “‘Now, let me clean my mess up and I’ll get out of your hair.” Mirroring his own words he finally pushes his back and you see the dusty pink that covers his ears when he slips his feet back into his slides.

“I feel like I can’t let you leave without offering you a drink or something?” You know all you have in the fridge is some rosé you got on sale at Aldi, but you needed a reason for him to stay.

“How about this, you can bring me back some of those fish tacos one night this week and we’ll call it even.” He can’t look at you when he suggests it, hoping his ploy to see you again wasn’t obvious while he busies himself with putting all his tools away.

“I think that’s more than doable, I need to thank you for finding my favorite ring too, maybe you should pick a dessert while we’re at it.” You bite your bottom lip when his eyes meet yours with a lopsided grin.

“I’m a big fan of cannoli’s.” He snaps the clasps of his tool box closed before doing a once over to make sure he didn’t leave anything behind. Not that, that would be a bad thing if he did, you’d have to bring it back to him.

“Consider it done. Seriously, thank you Steve.” All your teasing from before is gone, making his face soften at your sincerity and he wants to tell you that’s enough for him.

“Anytime, that’s what neighbors are for right? It’s always just me and Bandit anyway. It’s nice to feel useful again.” He shrugs like it’s not a big deal, like he wouldn’t help you with anything you asked of him despite how he hardly knows you.

You walk him to your door where you both stand on either side of the threshold, toe to toe. Neither one of you is sure of the proper way to say goodbye.

“Give Bandit an extra treat from me for letting me steal his Dad for a few hours.” You break the ice leaning against the door frame, crossing your arms making the decision easy.

“I’ll be sure to tell him it’s from you.” Steve’s eyes gleam from the evident admiration you have for his dog.

“You better.” The threat is empty, the smile on your face to prove it.

“Have a good night honey. I’m always just next door if you need anything else.” He loiters a little bit unsure of himself before finally turning to make his way down the stairs.

“I’ll try not to lose any more jewelry down the drains!” You call after him, relishing in the laugh it gets you that echoes down the narrow hallway.

You wait till he’s out of your sight before you shut your front door. Your mind racing with everything you’d learned about him tonight, sleep was going to be impossible.

---

----

beta’d by @superblysubpar & @newlips 💗

dividers by @newlips 💗

chapter four

#superb steve harrington AU #superb steve harrington series #AIRWIY 🧡

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superbfics · 9 months ago

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I'm so on the edge of my seat for all their tension - KISS. But it'll be worth the wait, I know it will. Steve! Quit ignoring us! Explain yourself! Also why do you have to write him *so* hot. Goddamn I need him to by neighbor 💛

He wears red running shorts this time, the color making his bronze skin pop while the black tank top that hangs loose off his shoulders has his arms on full display. The darkened patches from the heat on the front and back of It makes the damp cotton dip to tease the curled hair on his chest that matches his legs. His jog stops once he hits his gate, pulling out his AirPods his shoulders move up and down with his heavy breaths. He looks even better than yesterday, the sheen that covers him making him glow.

Long fingers find the bottom of his shirt as he pulls it over his head, abs flexing when it gets caught at the bottom of his chin for a second. He pushes back his hair with both hands catching that stray that never seems to go away. Cold water hits your toes, a squeak leaving your mouth at the sight.

He’s fully clothed this time, a white long sleeve dress shirt that clings to him like it’s custom tucked into dark gray slacks that look freshly pressed. The black oxfords on his feet look polished with no scuffs in sight, and when he goes to answer his phone by the bluetooth in his ear the silver of his watch reflects off the light. The look is thrown though by the familiar blue of a Cubs hat, backwards on his head - that loose strand hangs out the front. Ray Bans cover those eyes that a few days ago couldn’t stay off of you.

I will NEVER forgive you for putting this man in a running outfit/on clouds OR this description of his work clothes and backwards Cubs hat. Literally never ever ever letting either fit go. They're permanently loaded in my core memories.

He tucks his mail between his teeth as he searches for his house key. A muffled ‘aha!’ when he finds them, quickly unlocking his own door before freeing his mouth to greet Bandit. The sound of his nails pattering excitedly against the floor fills the quiet between you two before the slam of his door.

He's literally so fucking hot but cute and a dork and GOD DAMMIT LEIGHANNE

You don’t know how it took you a week to realize his bedroom was right across from yours, but the way he’s walking around in nothing but a low slung towel makes you think he doesn’t know either. Water drips from the tips of his hair and down his chest, curling the dark thatch that connects to the happy trail that you’d been teased with earlier in the week. There’s a subtle dip between his hips, a soft V that taunts you.

“Whoa! Easy tiger.” There’s a smirk in his words and tobacco on his breath, the heat of it fanning across your face.

Your eyes finally meet the greens of his and the golden specks are just as easy to get lost in as the first time. There’s less peppered stubble covering the sharp edges of his features, the shadowing of it signaling that he must have shaved since the last time you saw him. The moon reveals a new set of moles that sit like vampire bites on the underside of his jaw, a placement that makes you wet your lips. Your heartbeat pulsing through your fingertips wrapped in his shirt. His grip on your hips stays unwavering while he takes in your face like he missed something he didn’t know he lost.

WOOOOOOWWWWW AND THE PANICKED "I HOPE SO!" HES SO CUTE I CANT

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap two/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Fancy Meeting You Here

chapter one <-

summary: A peek out your bedroom window has you flustered, and a late night run in makes it worse.

wc: 3.1k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters. no minors! some good ol tension building and ogling 😉

Series Masterlist // Playlist // The tune:

Sunday -

You were able to unpack most of your ‘chaos’ the next day. Fun distractions in every box as you slowly put your life back together one side step at a time. Your A/C was working over time by mid day, the temperature outside almost breaking 90. Stuttering every so often with the heat trying to get the best of it, the sun shines through your window with harsh light directly on your freshly hung Ivy. The intensity of it at its peak in the sky threatens to fry them before they even have a chance to start.

“Gotta get some curtains,” you mumble to yourself, adding it to the long list of things you already need.

Licking sticky red lips, you grab the plastic cup you just drained the last of your wine from, the warm buzz of the alcohol making you sweat as you rinse it haphazardly. Water splashes all over the sink before you fill it up to the brim, your bare feet pad with low quick thumps against the wood floor, skin a little slick with every step to your window.

The Cure’s ‘Just like heaven’ cuts off the loop you had it playing on all day when you get a notification on your phone, but you keep humming along as you step up on the ledge, kicking away the newly added throw pillows. The wrath of the summer sun makes sweat bead at the crown of your hair while the soil absorbs what you give it like it hasn’t been watered in days. A flash of color catches the corner of your eye, stealing your attention to the window.

That's when you see Steve.

That’s when he does it, he takes it off.

“Shit, shit, shiiit.”

You set the cup down cursing under your breath and you know you should look away but when you see the dark happy trail that runs down into his shorts you can’t. Not yet.

If he can feel you staring he doesn’t show it when he sits down on his porch swing, the muscles in his thighs bulging against the nylon. He dabs his forehead with his discarded tank top, letting his neck fall slack and his head tilt back using it to shield his eyes when he’s done.

Watching past the point of what feels appropriate you pry yourself from the view suddenly needing the coldest shower.

Wednesday -

Job hunting day was long and hot. Your feet are sore from hours spent walking in the haze of the sun, the bottoms of your converse peeling against the pavement with each step. The trains were more confusing than you’d bargained for, opting for the bus and expecting some reprieve but somehow managed to get on the one that offered you none. Packed tight against strangers in a heat that was somehow even worse than the one outside, you glowered at your feet.

Oh yeah, and you hated that every song on your shuffle reminded you of the man you spent all of ten minutes with.

The biggest glass of wine you could humanly pour calls your name by the time you get to the end of your block. Your pace is quick with annoyance, and the need for A/C is urgent when your thighs start to rub together, stinging in the humid air.

That’s when you see him. Again.

He’s getting out of BMW M6, a dark red one with black trim, shiny with the kind of paint that glitters in the sun like just went through a car wash. The tint of the windows is just dark enough to give you a glimpse at the silhouette of the car seats and the air freshener that dangles over his rear view mirror. He’s fully clothed this time, a white long sleeve dress shirt that clings to him like it’s custom tucked into dark gray slacks that look freshly pressed. The black oxfords on his feet look polished with no scuffs in sight, and when he goes to answer his phone by the bluetooth in his ear the silver of his watch reflects off the light. The look is thrown though by the familiar blue of a Cubs hat, backwards on his head - that loose strand hangs out the front. Ray Bans cover those eyes that a few days ago couldn’t stay off of you.

“Of course,” you grumble to yourself, trying to ignore the hope that starts tightening in your chest.

“Hey Ron! It’s Steve.” The whites of his teeth show themselves in a confident smile that’s not directed at you.

He stops at his mailbox as you reach your gate thinking there’s no way he hasn’t noticed you. You just want him to at least acknowledge you.

He hums in agreement to whatever ‘Ron’ is saying on the other end, throwing in an ‘exactly’ every now and then. You watch as his expert fingers pop the buttons up at the bottom of his sleeves, before rolling them up to his elbows, the muscles in his forearms moving. The few seconds in the heat already getting to him.

“Don’t worry, I got you seats right behind home plate for helping me make this right on such short notice.”

He keeps his head down and he sifts through envelopes, humming a ‘no thank you” before the noticeable click and end of the phone call. The metal of your gate seems to creak louder than usual, but the noise still isn’t enough for him to look your way. Not even when your steps mirror each other’s as you both make it to your respective doors. You keep peeking over as you jiggle your lock, silently trying to get his attention.

Friday -

It had been two days since you even caught a glimpse of your confusing neighbor, making it easier to get back to your normal brain chemistry. Instead of running through your first day here over and over again, you focused on prepping for the interview you got called back for.

The bright glow of the moon breaks through the sheer curtains of your room competing with the warmth of your bedside lamp. Your bluetooth speaker is set at a volume that is only meant for you to hear while The Marias Care For You becomes the soundtrack to finally organizing your room.

You dance a little as you make your way around your space, smiling as you walk past the window. The flick of a light breaks your concentration making you search for where it came from, the regret is instant when you find the source.

The books in your hand slip from your grip, the hard spine connecting with the top of your toes.

“Ouch - fuck!”

You scream loud enough to duck, scared that your outburst caught his attention while your hands wrap around your foot in an attempt to soothe the pain. You rock back and forth a little until the aftershock subsides. Still too scared to stand, you crawl towards your window to see if your worst fear actually came to life.

Your fingers rest on the window pane as you slowly let your eyes peek above the wood. He’s not looking at your window, but his towel is now replaced with just as low hanging dark green mesh shorts. His back is turned towards you revealing even more freckles and moles than the ones you’d discovered on his arms and nose. His shoulder blades move as he texts someone on his phone. The glow of the screen lighting his face in the reflection of the mirror over his dresser.

You groan as you slink back, laying on your floor with a huff. Staring at the ceiling with a sweaty palm on your forehead, the image of him in the towel is etched in your mind, making your blood run hot. You’ll need better curtains for your bedroom too.

Trash, you’ll take out the trash.

There’s a chill with the breeze when you get outside, the humidity disappearing with the sun for once. The street lamp flickers over the alleyway, the glow of the full moon doing more to light your path. Goosebumps dance over the exposed skin of your legs, while you keep your eyes on your feet as you move over the uneven ground. completely focused on not rolling your ankle again, you don’t notice the sounds of sports highlights getting closer.

“God, of course he choked— umph!”

Steve’s voice catches your attention too late for you to stop the slam of your face into the hard muscles of his chest. The sound of glass breaking in your trash bag echoes loud through the quiet when you drop it next to your feet, quickly followed by the skid of his phone. Your cheek bounces lightly off of him, the material of his gray shirt soft against your skin. The hair hidden underneath is still wet enough for you to feel the way it dampens the cotton, while the mint and pine of his body wash overwhelms your senses. His hands find your hips to steady your balance, fingertips accidentally brushing the top curve of your ass when they spread wide to get a grip.

“Whoa! Easy tiger.” There’s a smirk in his words and tobacco on his breath, the heat of it fanning across your face.

The sound of a car honking signals its presence down the alley breaking you two apart, the headlights making you squint when they hit your line of sight. His hands drop quickly and you untangle yours, taking a step back as the car drives past at what feels like a snail's pace. There’s a beat of silence before you clear your throat.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you offer as a bad attempt at breaking the ice. It makes him snort a little, sidestepping you briefly to grab his phone that landed on the gravel next to your feet. The score of the Cubs game is still playing from the small speaker.

The low light conceals the way your eyes wander when the back of his shirt rides up as he bends down. The baseball game drowns out the sound of you swallowing hard when you don’t see an outline of briefs under his shorts. He clicks the button on the side, cutting the sportscast off abruptly and for the second time you wonder if he can hear your thoughts.

He smirks when he brings his attention back to you, almost missing the way his gaze wanders around your curves when he drops his phone in his pocket.

“You’re telling me, I thought this was an exclusive spot.” He laughs, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

There’s a beat of awkward silence this time.

“Well, not gonna force you to chat. Have a good night Steve.” You try not to let it show how much it bothers you as you pick your trash back up.

“How’s your ankle? Did the ice pack help?” He blurts out before you can walk away.

You stare at him for a second, eyes raking over his face as you try to decipher his mood swings.

“Yeah, it helped a lot. Thank you.” Your smile is small but it makes his whole face light up. “Tell Bandit I said thanks too. Maybe give him another kiss for me.”

You watch the way his ears turn the rosy color of his cheeks as he looks down, kicking the rocks at his slipper covered feet.

“I’m sure he’ll be very appreciative of such a kind gesture.” He looks at you from under his lashes, the playful spark from the day you met slowly coming back.

“I hope I didn’t do anything last week to make you uncomfortable - “ you start out, determined to address the elephant in the alley between you, and his eyes get big when he finally registers what you’re saying.

“What? Uncomfortable? No, honey - look, you didn’t do anything to make me run off like that. There’s some things about me that you don’t know, it’s just - I’m sorry,” he huffs out, shoulders slumping defeated when he realizes how he’s come across.

“I’m just trying to make some friends around here. Thought I had one in you and Bandit, but I guess not.” You try to lighten the shift in his mood when you look up at him with an exaggerated sullen face, and it works when the whites of his teeth start to show, eyes crinkling at their corners.

“We can be friends.” He chuckles with his signature nervous tick, long fingers running through damp hair. “Bandit can be a little high maintenance though.”

It’s your turn to laugh, a giggle bubbling past your lips and Steve thinks it’s one of the prettiest sounds he’s ever heard. He wants to make you do it again.

“I think I can handle him, it’s his owner I have to worry about.“ You roll your eyes before you peek over at him with a smirk.

“That old guy next door? I heard he’s pretty lame, you might give him a big head if you wanna be his friend.” He lays it on extra thick by taking the trash bag from your hand, walking the few short steps to the dumpster for you.

He tosses it in with ease, his shoulder blades moving under his shirt. The lid closes loudly, drowning out the way your heart is trying to jump from your chest when he makes his way back.

“That was a very friendly thing for you to do, Steve. Thank you,” you tease, making him snort at your bad play on words.

“Gotta make myself indispensable, tough girl.” He winks not missing a beat, lips stretching into that million dollar smile you saw him give on the phone the other day. Only this time it’s just for you.

“Well you’re really starting to build your case.” You bite your lip to try to hide the way you want to mirror him.

“Oh, you’re not gonna be able to get rid of me with good conscience.” He stops in front of you, eyes meeting yours like they did the first time. The smell of his body wash takes over again while the stray he’s always pushing back makes a reappearance. “Do me a favor though? No more taking your trash out this late. At least not alone.”

“Are you going to come over and help every time I need to take it out past nine?” You grin, crossing your arms, only half way teasing when you see a rat scurry by.

“What are friends for?” He shrugs, playing along with ease, whatever nerves he was battling with before retreating when his smile turns lopsided. The rake of his fingers through his hair seems intentional this time, especially when he licks his lips.

You wonder if he can hear the flaps of butterfly wings in your stomach, or how your breath hitches.

“Already working your way to best friend status Steve, careful,” you warn, trying to hide your nerves in humor and it works, earning a full belly laugh from him.

“Have a good night honey. I’m right next door if you need anything.” His hand reaches out as if to touch your arm, but he pulls back at the last minute, fingers flexing looking for that ‘missing’ ring again at his side.

“See you around, Steve.” You smile warmly trying to save him from whatever internal spiral you saw him trying to fight off again.

Your touch is gentle when you do what he was too scared too. His skin is warm against your palm, the muscles moving underneath the simple gesture. You trace the pad of your thumb over the same cluster of freckles twice before you let go with a squeeze, heading back to the wooden gate that closes off your shared backyard.

He doesn’t answer till you’re almost all the way through.

“I hope so!”

The smile that spreads across your face can’t be contained any longer, hidden from him when your back presses to the wooden door as your gate latches closed loudly behind it. You wait until you hear him get inside, silently trying to decipher whatever he was mumbling to himself the whole way there but failing.

You can’t help but replay the whole interaction back in your head as you make your way back upstairs, trying to manage your expectations. The words ‘there’s some things about me that you don’t know’ stick to the front of your brain like glue, just like the word ‘friends’.

You avoid your bedroom window for the rest of the night, and vow to get better curtains in the morning.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

---

----

chapter three

#superb steve harrington series #superb steve harrington AU #AIRWIY 🧡

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superbfics · 9 months ago

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First of all the song?! Chef's fucking kiss, I'm gonna a listen to this on repeat the rest of the day and think about steve hugging me and how much this makes me miss him and he's not even reallll augggfffhsvahahagav!!!!!!!!! You're making me fall in love with Steve all over leighanne. I absolutely fucking love how this older Steve is not the same as colors Steve to me. They are different versions of daddy (yeah I know I'm so so sorry and yet I'm not sorry at all), but anyways I hate to tell everyone this...guys I think I'm in love with this Steve more and I'd actually go to war to be his neighbor I'm talking crazy I gotta get off this app now goodbye leighanne is melting my brain with this version of him, my filters are shutting down who knows what I'll say the next chapter.

“Fun night?” He smirks, pulling his Raybans on top of his head and pushing the hair out of his face. Specks of gray stand out on the sides in the fresh new light. His face is clean shaven, a crisp white dress shirt fitting tight across his chest, the outline of the tank top underneath visible. It brings you back to the way it clung to his muscles in your kitchen last week.

The muscles in his abdomen flex against your touch, and you feel him freeze up for a second before pulling you tight into his chest. The aftershave and cologne are overpowering against your senses, but you don’t care, inhaling deeply. He rubs a soothing palm down the dip of your spine with just enough pressure to make you sigh.

“That’s my girl.” He grins, twirling his keys before catching them in hand, finally turning around to go to his car and leaving you a mess on your front steps.

Every time I read this part I turn bright red I don't know how to explain it.

ALSO THE DOORDASH NOTE?! He sends me hangover food AND makes dorky baseball puns AND signs "(your neighbor)" in case I forgot who Steve could be? THIS MAN:

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap four/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Good Morning & Goodnight

summary: Your first night out with friends ends when Steve’s work day begins.

wc: 1.2k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters, we’re a hot mess but Steve loves it.

authors note: It’s a shorty! I can’t believe we’re almost half way through. 🥹 this is a stepping stone chapter for the next one but it doesn’t mean that I didn’t at least give you something 😉

🌇 chapter three <- -> chapter five

The Masterlist/The Playlist/The tune:

Middle of June - 6:15am Monday Morning

Free drinks with your coworkers at the bar after close seemed like a great idea, until you were stumbling out of the club with a few of the other girls at dawn. Birds chirp loudly into the fuschia sky, mocking the hangover that was sure to hit as soon as your stomach processed the breakfast sandwich you ate on the train ride home.

The dull throb of your dehydration headache starts rearing its annoying head once you hit your street, your platform sandals dragging against the sidewalk. You can feel the way your eyeliner starts making your lashes stick with every slow sleepy blink of your eyes. Throat dry, all you can think of is your Brita in the fridge and how much you hope you refilled it last night.

“Howdy neigh- oh, honey.”

Your eyes widen when you hear the voice of the last person you want to see you like this. but you know there’s nowhere to hide when you reach your gate right as Steve’s leaving his. Meeting his gaze sheepishly, you can feel the heat rise up your neck and cheeks. You remember the blurry image of your smeared make up in the club bathroom mirror a few hours ago.

“Hi Steve.” You give him a small wave, embarrassment making you kick the sidewalk with the toe of your sandal.

“Yeah, actually it was.” You use the last of your strength to form a smile, immediately wincing when you do and he has to stifle a laugh.

“I’m glad to hear it, although I do hope you don’t work today.” He reaches down adjusting the belt around his waist, before shoving a hand in his black dress slacks leaning against the gate with the other. His silver watch is just as shiny as his shoes.

“No I’m of -“ your voice cracks, making you clear your throat and suddenly the sun is extra bright. “No, I’m off today.”

“Good and please tell me you have ibuprofen up there?” Genuine worry paints his handsome features, he knew what a first Chicago hangover was like. It takes all of his will power not to work from home so he can check up on you the rest of the day.

“Yes, I’m not completely useless in taking care of myself you know?” You don’t mean for it to sound so snippy, but the hangover is getting the best of you and getting words out feels like knives to your skull.

His eyebrows raise, a little shocked before his face relaxes with a warm smile. A silent understanding.

“I didn’t mean it like that tough girl.” He straightens up with rosy cheeks.

“I’m sorry, that was rude. I’m just really tired and Ubers were like a million dollars -“ You can hear how your words start to shake, the lack of sleep finally catching up with you.

He steps forward on instinct, arms starting to outstretch in a hug, only to stop once his brain connects with the movements of his body. Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol still left in your system that makes you bold enough to meet him in the middle, but there is no turning back when your arms snake around his waist.

“I know, it feels like death,” he chuckles, “Go get some sleep okay honey?” His words come out soft against the top of your head before he gives the sides of your arms a squeeze pulling back just enough to see your face.

You want to kiss the two moles that sit side by side on his cheek, especially when he looks at you like this.

“Sorry for the dramatics at 6:30 in the morning.” You can’t help but giggle, brushing away the glitter that rubbed off onto his clean shirt.

The way he smiles with all his teeth tells you he could care less.

“Hey, you might not believe it but I used to have many nights like this way back when, alright?” He gets the eye roll that makes his whole day, and he has to resist the urge to pull you in for another hug.

“Suuuure grandpa,” you tease — his affection enough to make you feel like a functioning person even if just for a few minutes.

He scoffs with fake offense before he gives you one of those winks that makes you weak in the knees, and for a second you think he might kiss your forehead.

“Alright, I need to get to work and you need to go to bed. Don’t be a stranger if you need anything later okay?” He rubs up and down your arms before finally stepping back and you wish he’d just come lay with you.

You muster a nod before straightening out your wrinkled dress, shyness coming back when he slips his sunglasses back on. Why did he always have to look so good?

“Have fun at work, I promise I won’t die. I just need some water and a shower.” You try and wave off his worry as you make your way through your gate.

“You better not. Bandit would be very upset about losing his new best friend.” It’s his turn to get sheepish. “Me too.”

It doesn’t hurt when you smile this time.

“You have my word Steve.” You put your palm against your heart in a vow just for him.

“That’s my girl.” He grins, twirling his keys before catching them in hand, finally turning around to go to his car and leaving you a mess on your front steps.

That’s my girl.

The words play in your head on a loop while you shower, when you drink your bodyweight in water, and as you take enough ibuprofen to give you an ulcer. They haunt your dreams when your body gives into sleep and your headache finally subsides.

A loud knock on your front door wakes you from the kind of sleep that leaves you with a sore throat and a foggy brain. The sun is lower in the sky that shines through the crack of your new curtains, your clock reading 6:05 pm in glaring red letters when your eyes catch the time.

You can barely pick your feet off the ground when you shuffle to the door, a yawn loud enough to hear over the whir of the A/C. You unlatch the dead bolt, and when you open to see what’s on the other side, you’re reminded of his words from earlier that felt like a lifetime ago. They make you feel special again like they did at six in the morning despite the roll of your eyes, your lips twitch when you read the note that’s attached to the Doordash hangover cure from your handsome neighbor.

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

🌇 -> chapter five

#superb steve harrington series #superb steve harrington AU #AIRWIY 🧡#older steve #neighbor steve

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superbfics · 6 months ago

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These beautiful lines?! Are you kidding me?!

The one person handcrafted specifically for him. A soul designed to match his own in a large and lonely world. That until now you were pretty sure you had nowhere to belong and now you belonged to him.

Also, cannot get over the image of myself and Steve dressed up like Sandy and Danny from Grease. I'm really unwell about it, actually, in case you were wondering 💛

Piano Man

Chapter Two - If I Only Had the Words (to Tell You) 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of heartbreak, abandonment issues, emotional vulnerability, heart ache, established relationship

Summary: You and Steve have been dating for nearly 6 months, all of which he’s enjoyed. Yet it has been exactly a year since Nancy told him he was bullshit. So even though he desperately wants to tell you he loves you he’s afraid you might say he’s bullshit too.

word count: 2k

One ←→ Three

Masterlist

Fall 1985

But I only have these arms to hold you

It’s a dark Fall night. The house smelling of popcorn you had popped earlier to watch during a movie. Halloween decorations had been plastered all over Steve’s home, a home that hadn’t been decorated for any holiday in a very long time. You had changed that though, changed him. You made not only this home full, but his heart. Which is why Steve lies beside you in his bed absolutely hating himself for not being able to tell you how he feels. How much he loves you, how much you had saved him these last six months.

You had been there for it all. Cheering in the stands when he graduated, taking your lunch break to visit him everyday at Scoops Ahoy, not getting jelous of his newfound friendship with Robin, taking care of him when the monsters returned and the mall burned down, and even helping him and Robin get hired at the video store where you had worked this entire time. Everytime he thought you'd leave, somehow you were still there, and he appreciated you for every bit of it. So why the hell couldn't he say it?

He knew why. He knew because everytime he looked at the plastic Halloween decorations filling his home he was brought right back to Tina's Halloween party. Right back to that very bathroom where the only girl he ever loved looked into his eyes and told him he was bullshit. It had been a year but he still remembered how devastated he was, how his heart felt as she ripped it straight from his chest. The look in her eyes was seared into his memory, devoid of any emotion but distate blazing in them. He couldn't relive that, wouldn't relive that. Especially with you.

He may have loved Nancy but with you it was different. With you, he knew you were going to be the one. The one person handcrafted specifically for him. A soul designed to match his own in a large and lonely world. Somehow he had found you and now he wouldn't do anything to risk it, he would guarantee it. It had hurt when Nancy said she didn't love him but if you did. Well that would kill him.

"What kind of candy do the kids like?" you ask in the dark bedroom, voice overlapping that of Billy Joel's from the cassette player. You're My Home played softly throughout the room and you wished Steve knew that was how you felt about him. That until now you were pretty sure you had nowhere to belong and now you belonged to him.

"Why do you ask?” Steve hums, hands reaching to run through your hair. He lived for nights like this, where you just laid here with legs tangled together and talked about things practically meaningless.

"Well I want to make them happy, I know how much they love Halloween. Dustin hasn't shut up about it all week and I want something to cheer Mike up. I know how badly they wanted to dress up as The Goonies but with Will and El gone they can't" you tell Steve, hand lacing with his own under the covers. Steve smiles softly at you and how much you care for the very kids he had taken under his own wing.

"I don't know what kind of candy they like, I'm sure whatever is fine. As for Mike, tell him we can be Andy and Brand. Maybe I can convince Robin to be Data or something" Steve tells you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. The image of Robin in the Data costume meant for Will makes you giggle and Steve is pulling you closer, chest brushing against your own.

"You'd give up our Grease costume for that?" you ask, knowing how excited he was to be Danny Zuko and wear his leather jacket.

"Yeah but don't tell them that. They'll get big heads" Steve grumbles, practically hearing Dustin tease him about how much he loves all of them. You giggle against him and Steve warms over, feeling those very words sitting heavy on his chest. If only he had the words to tell you. He knew you were waiting, wondering why he hadn't said them. If you only had time to understand why he struggled with it so much. Everyone he ever loved left, if he said these words outloud he couldn't risk you leaving him too.

"You're the best Stevie" you tell him, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his nose. Steve hums in delight, not allowing you to back away as he pulls you to his lips and kisses you quickly. He knows you love him, you only said things like that to replace those very words. If he would just say it your response would have been 'I love you Stevie'. Instead he gets broad statements that he has slowly come to despise.

"Yeah, yeah, best babysitter ever" he mumbles and you giggle because even though he pretends to hate it you know how much he loves it. How much he loves those kids. If he didn't he wouldn't spend time with them. One of those very kids was his ex girlfriend’s brother and he never let any of those things stop him. He was always there for them.

"Only the best can handle six kids at a time" you tell him and Steve searches your eyes, loving how when you look at them they’re filled with adoration instead of hate. He knows not saying anything won't change your feelings and you will carry on loving him without it. He just couldn't bring himself to say it, the urge never there even though he was practically dying inside to tell you. He wished you knew how hard it is to say.

Sometimes when he finds himself even close he feels silly. I love you seemed too simple to portray the love he had for you. It was so basic, a word your heard on the radio over and over again. Every song as simple as the last. How unoriginal were his words when the radio repeats them every single day? Even with his love for Billy Joel he figures he'll never find a song to sing you. One that perfectly depicted exactly how he felt about you. He doesn't want to sing those tired words again, words he wasted on people who never loved him back.

“You ever think about having kids?” Steve asks, leaning back into the pillow and staring at his ceiling. You admire the soft tufts of his hair on his chest, the way his bicep flexes as he reaches to tuck his hand under his head. He’s so handsome and it should scare you that your boyfriend of only six months has suddenly asked you about having kids and yet you don’t seem to mind.

“All the time” you tell him earnestly, snuggling into his side and grazing your fingers along his sternum, grinning when he shivers from your touch.

“I want to have a whole bunch, make me feel better about being an only child” Steve says, his hand pressed to your back slowly sliding up and into your hair.

“What do you mean, make you feel better?” you ask, lifting your head to glance at the boys face as he continues to be deep in thought.

“I was a lonely kid, my parents never really cared to pay any attention and without any siblings or cousins I was left to my own devices. I think it’s half the reason I was such an asshole in high school” he says, almost wincing at the thought of how many people he had treated like shit over the years just to guarantee he wouldn’t be all alone.

“You were protecting yourself” you say, understanding exactly what he means and Steve nods, eyes glancing down at your form.

“I want my kids to have built in friends and even better, present parents” he tells you and suddenly you find yourself wanting nothing more than to have kids with the boy beside you.

“You’ll be the best Dad Steve, I just know it” you tell him and there are those words again, sitting on his tongue and begging to escape but he just can’t seem to let them go. He hates himself for it, looking away before you see the regret in his eyes.

“I hope so, I just wish my Grandpa was still around to see it” he says, thinking of the only person in his life who ever really liked him for him when he was growing up. The man who had heaven sent you straight to him when he needed you the most.

“He is, don’t you worry about that Stevie” you tell him, eyes fluttering close as you listen to cassette playing in the room. The boombox clicked, indicating the start of a new song. Worse Comes to Worst slowly filling the room.

“Oh worse comes to worst. I’ll get along” you start singing the melody into the dark night air, the fall breeze fluttering in from the window and brushing against the curtains.

“I don’t know how, but sometimes - I can be strong” Steve starts singing along with you and suddenly your both giggling into the night, sharing a love for one another and a love for Billy Joel. The very man that had brought you two together.

“Do you ever get sick of listening to him?” Steve asks and you know he’s asking you about Billy Joel. You shake your head softly against his chest, gazing into those hazel eyes.

“No, he reminds me of you. Makes me feel close to you no matter where I am. Yet I suppose that’s exactly how he makes you feel about your Grandpa” you say, voice humming along the boys ribs.

“Yeah but now he reminds me of you too” Steve admits and you smile before leaning up and capturing his lips in your own. When you had approached the sad boy in the record store you never would have imagined it would bring you here.

"I'm gonna try and sleep" you tell the boy, snuggling closer and allowing your heavy eyelids to close. Steve smiles softly and presses another kiss to your forehead. He knows life goes on and tonight will soon be gone. Another missed opportunity to tell you exactly how he feels. His wished he had the words to tell you but instead he only has his arms to hold you, pulling you closer into him. It's really all you can ask of any man, to be held with such love even if he won't say it.

"Goodnight Rosy" he mutters, 'I love you' he says in his head. He knows disappointment swells in your chest, having been by his side for six months and waiting to know exactly how he felt about you. The only noise in the dark room now is the voice of Billy Joel and your soft breathing. He pulls you close, relishing in the feeling of having you in his arms. When he’s sure you’re asleep he tells you.

"I love you Rosy, I really do. Just please don't give up on me, I promise I want to say it. You deserve to know just how much I adore you but every person I've ever loved has left me. I know you won't but I need time for my head to catch up with my heart. Until then, if I only had the words to tell you..."

Taglist: @slvtforstve @keerygal @goosy-goose @livsters @blckburd @loveshotzz @ohwauwdoritos @superblysubpar @southereads @amataadriana @violet2022 @mxrcjqckspnchqsc @madaboutjoe @thunderstomp-and-tequila @justdamnpeachy @micheledawn1975 @fangfatale @kingstevesgf @eddiesguitarskills @palmtreesx3 @momospeaches47 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @notlilyyyy @xuimhao @lianna75 @lvjmel @sadbitchfangirl @halflifejess @starkleila

Comment if you want to be added to the taglist :))

#superb steve harrington series

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superbfics · 9 months ago

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Jelly, this series is so phenomenal. You have a way of immersing us into the stranger things world so effortlessly that I envy! You paint beautiful imagery and pack so much depth into your writing without bogging us down with information. I can't wait to read the next part and fall even more in love with their story 💛

It feels like you're building a bubble. A place for only the two of you where you could forget about the reaper that's getting closer to knocking at your door. Even if it’s all an illusion, you’re happy to pretend if he’s with you.

Your lips stretch into a grin, and your shoulders rise as you release a sigh.

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"What?"

"I know that look," he says, shaking his head, "You think it's romantic."

"It is!" Your fingers wrap around his forearm.

"It's depressing," he says, laughing at you.

"No. Imagine loving someone so much that even once they're gone, you think about them all the time. A love you can never get over," you explain, squeezing his arm. "That is romantic."

MY HEART. I'm with reader 💛

He pulls out a single package, letting the box with the rest fall to the floor. Holding up the pristine cakes proudly, he quirks his eyebrows at you, looking just as smug as when you laid eyes on his other package yesterday in the cave.

I'm so torn in lovey feelings of him searching for a snack for us and also thinking about his package. Thanks Jelly.

Circling his neck, you pull his head down until his forehead is pressed against yours. “You’ve been so brave and strong. I’m so grateful.”

"Stop. Don't talk like that." He straightens up and cups your jaw tilting you back to look into your eyes.

“You deserve to kn-”

“No, not yet. This isn’t the end. It can’t be.” He came to this place ready to die, but you made him take the risk and keep living. He’s not ready to give up and won’t let you either. “I need more time. I'm just figuring it out.”

It's not a choice anymore when his lips press against yours. It's just something that is, like the rain or a season. It comes whether it's beckoned or not. He feels a little foolish that he was ever unsure when you kiss him back like you've been his from the start. Always so busy trying to be the hero he almost missed it when someone saved him in return.

It's not a choice anymore when his lips press against yours. It's just something that is, like the rain or a season. It comes whether it's beckoned or not.

Always so busy trying to be the hero he almost missed it when someone saved him in return.

"Steve," you cradle his jaw, "You were worth the wait." Your whole life, you've been waiting for him, and the way he's kissing you now, you'd have waited even longer. Every kiss is a poem—pretty words printed on lips and tongues. Every touch is a story all its own.

Every kiss is a poem—pretty words printed on lips and tongues. Every touch is a story all its own.

Bared to each other in the yellow glow of the flashlight, you can feel the pages flipping by. Time is a luxury, but you won’t rush to the end. Laying down beside each other, you explore everything you've uncovered. In this moment, he’s yours. It feels decadent to touch him—a layer of softness over lean muscle. You’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.

Jolts of white-hot pleasure bloom from your core and radiate to every cell when he finds that switch inside you. The one that has you crying out. The one that didn’t exist before him. You’re not surprised. He’s good at everything he does.

You’re not surprised. He’s good at everything he does.

JELLY. GOOD FUCKING BYE. WOW. YOU DID NOT HAVE TO SAY THAT BUT YOU DID AND NOW IT LIVES RENT FREE IN MY BRAIN.

For an instant, you live a lifetime that could have been in each other's eyes. Then his head lowers, and your eyes close. Tender kisses turn hot, and he’s hard inside you. Distant howls echo through the dead trees while strange winds rattle the shutter of the cottage, but both go unnoticed as you claim the night as yours. Each time he has you, the need for each other only grows. After your bodies have given each other everything there is to give, sleep steals you away a few hours before the light changes.

Steve waves a hand behind him, motioning for you to stay back while he steps forward with caution. He plants his feet, twirling the bat before catching it with his other hand, holding it up high over his shoulder. His fingers open and close around the handle to adjust his grip. A low growl vibrates the flaps of its open mouth as the thing keeps moving forward.

“We don’t have to do this,” Steve says in a low, calm voice, “You’re already hurt. Just let us walk on by.”

HE'S SO HOT I'M GONNA DIE. I AM GOING TO ACTUALLY CEASE TO EXIST.

The planet will heat and explode. The two of you will become bright lights in the cosmos. Constellations. Star dust. Souls forever wandering the galaxies.

If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 2 | Never Alone

Inspired By: As the world burns by @myeuphoricmindset

TW: FemReader, Smut, Mentions of death, mild violence No Minors 18+ Series Masterlist WC:7607

Even though there is no sun, the light here does change. The black veil of night lifts, leaving the world awash in a pale blue half-light. The sun stays forever banished just below the horizon. Steve doesn't see it change this morning. Thick velvet drapes hung with brass rings cover every window of the cottage, keeping out the Upside-Down. His internal clock wakes him, and for the first time in a long time, it's without the heavy dread, without the emptiness. Instead, he wakes with the soft warmth of you gathered in his arms, with hope blossoming. His eyes trace the delicate slope of your peaceful features, committing them to memory. Goddam, you're pretty. He keeps still, letting the soft puffs of your breath fan over his neck, limbs still woven together as tightly as threads on a loom. Holding you like this, maybe it can be enough. These fleeting moments could be enough to get him through each day. Whatever else happens, he could have this. His lips brush your forehead as his eyes blink closed, and he lets himself drift.

Standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the chipped cast iron kitchen sink, you’ve been brushing your teeth for at least five minutes. Sounds of pleasure escape as the minty foam bubbles inside your mouth. Taking a small sip from the canteen, you swish and spit before running your tongue over your lips. Steve chuckles next to you, taking the canteen and doing the same.

“You really like brushing your teeth,” he teases.

“I will not apologize for good hygiene,” you counter, “Would you like to kiss someone with bad breath?”

“Definitely not.” He sets down his toothbrush and steps closer, tongue poking the inside of his lip as he crowds you against the counter. “It’s good to know that won’t be a problem for us going forward.”

Heat creeps up your neck until it settles into your cheeks. Something has changed with him overnight, like a decision has been made.

“You’ve got a little…” Picking up a knitted dish towel from next to the sink, you dab the toothpaste from the corner of his mouth. His hand covers yours, and your heart beats wildly in your chest. He’s got you off-kilter. You’ve never craved attention until you had a taste of his. A few looks, and you're drunk with it.

He turns your hand over and looks down at the towel with a frown. “Why is everything in this house knitted?”

Your smile widens. “I’m not sure.” Pulling your hand away, you fold the towel and place it back on the worn butcher block countertop next to the stacks of kitchen linens and trivets, all knitted in bright-colored yarn. Copper pots and shelves stacked with dishes and crockery line the ivory-painted walls of the rustic kitchen. The well-used avocado green appliances look at least twenty years old, and cozies knitted to look like potted plants cover the kettle and toaster.

“Do you know who lives here?” you ask, eyeing the table set for two with matching knit placemats and napkins, “I mean, on the other side.”

“No idea.” He leans against the counter, eyes roaming around the room. “Maybe there are some family photos around somewhere. Come on.”

His hand is on the small of your back as you follow the hand-tied rug down the hall to the living room, where folded homemade afghans lie over the backs of the two armchairs and a comfortable-looking sofa arranged around the stone fireplace. The mantel is crowded with a collection of framed photos filled with happy faces.

“I like it here.” Taking a seat on the couch, you imagine curling up with a book and enjoying the warmth of a fire.

“Yeah?” He stands at the mantle, squinting at the pictures, “I do, too,” he says absently as he plucks one of the frames from its spot. "Do you want to stay for a while?"

“Is it safe?” You ask as he sits down beside you, clutching the frame, his side pressing into yours. So far, you haven’t slept in the same house twice. Steve preferred to keep on the move, feeling you were most vulnerable at night.

“This place seems pretty solid, and it’s close to the water. I think it’s as safe as anywhere at this point.”

“Then I’d like to stay.”

“I do know who lives here.” He hands you the frame containing a photo of an older couple posed in front of the cottage, the man's arm wrapped around the woman's shoulder. Instead of looking at the camera, their faces are turned to each other. “This is Mrs. Willard,” he says, tapping the glass, “When I was kid, she used to yell at us if she saw us hanging around downtown. She scared the hell out of me. She's always dressed in black, so all the kids call her a witch. If she caught me, I thought she would eat me like in Red Riding Hood.”

“I think that was Hansel and Grettle.” Tucking your leg underneath your body, you turn into him, setting the frame on your lap. “Red Riding Hood got eaten by the wolf.”

His brows pull together. “I thought it was all the same story."

Laughing, you shake your head in response.

"Anyway," he begins again, pretending to be irritated with your interruption, "My mom told me that her husband died, and she dresses like that because she’s in mourning."

"How long ago did he die?"

"Well, the first time she yelled at me, I was probably about five, looking at the candy in Melvald’s. She told me all my teeth were going to rot and fall out of my head. So he probably died sometime before I was born."

"And she still wears black?" you ask with wide eyes.

He nods. "She still yells at kids too."

Your lips stretch into a grin, and your shoulders rise as you release a sigh.

Steve scoffs and rolls his eyes.

"What?"

"I know that look," he says, shaking his head, "You think it's romantic."

"It is!" Your fingers wrap around his forearm.

"It's depressing," he says, laughing at you.

"No. Imagine loving someone so much that even once they're gone, you think about them all the time. A love you can never get over," you explain, squeezing his arm. "That is romantic."

Shaking his head, he glances down at where you're touching him. "I like the way you look at things," he tells you, taking your hand and slipping his fingers into the spaces between yours. “If we're going to stay, we should go into town and get enough food to last us a few days."

"Alright," you say, admiring the way you fit together. Knowing you'll follow him anywhere as long as he keeps holding your hand.

The walk takes longer than expected. Parts of the asphalt have cracked and given way into deep sinkholes that stretch across entire streets, causing you to backtrack and change routes more than once.

"I think we better take everything we can carry," he says as he ties the red bandanna covering his mouth and nose. "We might not be able to come back." The smell of rotten food is wafting through the shattered glass doors of Bradley’s Big Buy. Unprepared on your first visit, Steve threw a brick through the glass, and the stench left you both gagging.

"I'm ready." Your fingers smooth out the cloth covering your face before you follow him through the shattered door. He makes a quick pass across the store, checking down every aisle to make sure you're the only ones in here. After getting the all-clear, you walk to the opposite end of the store, moving up and down the aisles filling your backpack and duffle with anything you deem as a necessity. It's a cruel kind of race to see which will last the longest – your food or the Upside-Down.

Pushing a few cans around on the shelf, you search for the ones that haven't gotten puffy. The zipper on your duffle will never close, but you slip another can of SpaghettiOs in any way, knowing that Steve likes them. Your arms already ache with the thought of carrying all this back to the cottage.

"I'm done," you call out, lugging your bags to the front of the store, where you leave them to search for Steve. Typically much quicker, he's usually by the door tapping his foot, impatient for you to finish. Today you find him between the moldy bread and crackers, boxes of open Twinkies strewn all over the floor, and loaded bags at his feet.

"What are you doing?" You ask, catching him frowning down at the open box in his hands, its contents a putrid green.

"These things are supposed to last forever," he grumbles, tossing the box over his shoulder and reaching for another.

"You don't even like Twinkies, Steve," you point out, amused by the intensity of his search.

He throws another box on the floor and stops with his hands on his hips, looking at you. "Yeah, but you do."

He's trying. The muscle in the center of your chest swells, pushing against your rib cage, feeling too big for such a small space as its rhythm changes like a record skipping to a new song. Your feet carry you towards him without your permission, a sudden shift catching you in the pull of his gravity. Your I'll Never list has just shortened by one–you have definitely lost your head for this boy.

"It's the last box." He picks it up from the otherwise empty shelf, turning it over in his hands before his gaze shifts to you. "I've got a good feeling about this one." His fingers slide beneath the edge of the cardboard breaking the glue. Opening the box, he thumbs threw the cellophane

packets with a sour look. Finally stopping when a devastating smile takes over his handsome face.

"Remind me never to bet against you, Harrington," you say, returning his smile.

He answers with a wink, tucking them away into the breast pocket of his vest. "We'll save these for later."

Later is a decadent concept when it may never come, but delaying will make it taste even sweeter. Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and his eyes linger there. He must know that, too.

“We should go.”

“Alright.” He retrieves his bags and accompanies you to the front of the store, where he waits for you to adjust the full backpack on your shoulders. The large glass windows begin to rattle in their frames, and a vibration runs under your feet.

“Shit.” Steve drops his duffle and reaches out to grab your shoulder as sounds of jars smashing and cans falling off the shelves fill the store. The tremor intensifies, sending you careening forward, falling against him. The weight in your pack adds to the force knocking you both to the ground. When you land on top of him the air is driven from your lungs. Strong arms wrap around you, holding you to his chest. One of the big grocery shelves tips over, starting a domino effect. A crack appears on the ground, widening as it lengthens, running straight toward you. Steve rolls you both away as it shoots past, leaving him on top. Then, as quickly as it started, it ends, everything goes still and quiet.

“Are you okay?” He asks a bit too loud, considering your face is inches from his. Sucking in panicked breaths, you manage to nod. He rolls off you onto his back and scrubs his face with both hands. “That was intense. The quakes are getting worse,” he says, trying to regulate his own breathing as the adrenaline leaves him.

“I think I’ve had enough shopping for one day,” you quip.

“Me too,” he chuckles beside you. “Let’s get out of here.”

The street outside Bradley's didn’t fare any better than inside the store. The fissure that started inside zig zags across the road leaving the building across the street torn in two, collapsing into a deep chasm. A look shared between you is easy to interrupt–you were lucky.

The destruction means you can’t travel the same route you used to get there, taking you further into a section of town that was already crumbling. Smoke filling the air from the nearby fire mixes with the low-lying mist that is a permanent resident here, making it harder to see more than a few meters ahead. You're shifting your duffle from one arm to the other when Steve's arm shoots out across your body, halting you in your tracks. With his other hand, he brings his index finger to his lips, then points ahead of you.

Three full-grown Demodogs are becoming visible through the fog, their attention drawn to something squirming between them. Their horrible petal mouths are open, jaws snapping and tearing at the whining creature they're feeding from. Steve hands you his duffle and reaches over his shoulder for the spiked bat sticking out of his pack. He points at an alleyway up ahead and motions for you to follow. Your eyes widen, and you shake your head no, tilting your head back in the direction you came. No, he mouths, pointing at the alley, Trust me. But your gaze moves back to the monsters, the wet squelching of their mouths louder in your ears. He steps in front of you, one hand cupping your jaw, tilting your chin towards him. Trust me, he mouths again. This time you nod, comforted by the deep hazel of his eyes.

A small smile is your confirmation. The warmth of his hand leaves your face as he turns away from you and takes a few steps toward the alley, looking over his shoulder to make sure you're following. Ice water has replaced your blood, your heart pumps overtime sending it through your veins, making each step forward a struggle. There's a voice screaming for you to turn around and run, but you trust Steve, so you follow.

Their growls and chitters drown out the sound of your footfalls as you approach the mouth of the alley. As you round the corner, you catch a glimpse of what they're eating. Fear rushes over you in a dark, suffocating wave, the slick gray spotted body of another dog torn open, washed in its own blood. Your hands start to shake, and nausea sets in. The fog seems to permeate your mind. Every line of thought frays at the ends, leaving the one terrible inescapable truth repeating.

This is the end. This is the end. This is the end.

The ashen color that replaced the glow on your skin is one that Steve is familiar with, along with the blank look and the awkward movements of your steps. You’re going into shock. He had seen it happen enough with the others to recognize the signs. He grips your arm above your elbow and steers you down the alley, needing to get you away in case your feet stop cooperating altogether.

After crossing a few more streets, the smoke starts to thin. There is less damage to this section of town. The rasp that accompanies your breaths is making him nervous. He pries his duffle from your grip, slinging it over his shoulder so he can wrap his arm around your waist, drawing you closer.

“You're okay,” he soothes, “We’re both alright. I’ll get you out of here—just breathe through your nose. Pull down your bandana.”

Relief floods him when you reach up with one hand and yank it off your face. “Good girl. Keep breathing nice and steady. I’m right here with you,” he says, hurrying you along. The streets have become residential, and he directs you through a maze of neighborhoods and backyards, recognizing spots where he played as a child. No, not here. This isn’t home, he thinks, spotting the collection of cracked and broken garden gnomes on Mr. Larson’s front lawn. It’s a nightmare, a cheap knock-off, and as he looks toward the horizon, he realizes nothing could ever replace the real Indiana sky.

The outlines of the angry storm clouds are still evident even as the dim light fades into the velvet of night, but the flashes of red have been replaced by a smooth, rolling emerald light mixing with pinks and violets—an aurora caused by the gasses being released as the atmosphere cracks. Dustin. That little shit. He was right. It’s happening just as he had warned Steve it would. He wishes he could tell him.

He glances at you and sees your eyes fixed on the display above, your breathing faltering. Pulling you against him a little tighter, he quickens his pace.

"No, Steve. Stop," you say, planting your feet, "Just stop."

Your voice startles him. It feels like he hasn't heard it for so long. He lets you pull away and watches as you drop your duffle to the ground.

"Didn’t you see? They were eating each other?" Standing in the near darkness, you rub the ache from your arm.

"I know," he says in a calm voice.

"You know what that means.” The look on your face is one of resignment.

“Don't think about that right now, okay?” He steps closer, wanting to touch you, but runs a hand through his hair instead. “We need to get back to the cottage. We'll be safe there.”

“Safe?”

“I can protect you there.” He gestures in the direction of the woods. The little house is not far now. The disbelief in your voice is making him feel out of control. You’ve never doubted him, and he needs your faith now more than ever. “I'll close the shutters, and we'll move some furniture in front of the doors.”

“Steve,” your tone is feather-light, both hands land on his chest, one smoothing to his shoulder, “There are some things I want you to know-”

“No,” he cuts you off, pushing at your hands with no real force.

Circling his neck, you pull his head down until his forehead is pressed against yours. “You’ve been so brave and strong. I’m so grateful.”

"Stop. Don't talk like that." He straightens up and cups your jaw tilting you back to look into your eyes.

“You deserve to kn-”

“What is it?” you ask, gripping his wrist, “What are you figuring out?” The thick cover of clouds has thinned, no match for the colors dancing all around you. He can see their brightness gleaming in your eyes.

“That you're all I need.”

Fingers wandering along your jaw, he swallows your sighs and your air, your want until he feels your hands wrapping around his waist, pulling him close, then he gives it right back. The world around you passes in a blur while tongues and swollen lips move languid and deep. This is where he lives now, in this kiss. All along, you've been his reward, and now that he's claimed you, he won't ever let go. He would've stayed here forever until your soft whisper between a series of broken-up kisses.

"Steve, take me home."

The cottage is quiet until you hear the first bang of the shutters being closed, followed by the slide of the bolt. After leaving the bags of food in the kitchen, you stand in the living room wiping your palms on the front of your jeans, counting each strike of the wood against the walls as Steve moves around the outside of the house, knowing that each one is bringing him closer to coming through the front door. Your fingers touch your kiss-stung lips, still feeling how his mouth pressed against yours, creating a loop of electricity, passing from him into you, making your heart glow like a bulb, lighting up every secret place inside you until you had nowhere left to hide the truth. You've completely fallen for him.

He walks inside, his eyes seeking out yours. A lock of hair falls over his brow as his lips turn upward, and he reaches for you. A hand on your waist, the other gripping your chin tilting your face to catch your bottom lip between his.

"Help me move this." He kisses you once more before motioning you to the other end of the heavy oak credenza. It scrapes and catches against the wood-planked floor, but you manage to wedge it up against the door.

The tension feels thicker than the fog rolling over the dry lake bed when you're finally closed in together. His flashlight clicks on, casting a dim beam in the direction of the bedroom. Eyes on each other, you wait to see who will be the first to crack—it's you. Taking his hand with a gentle pull, you lead him down the hall. The uneven floor creaks as you shuffle into the bedroom, letting go of his hand, you stop at the foot of the bed and wait. It's his turn now.

Your fingers fist the cuffs of your sweatshirt while he goes about his routine. Flashlight on top of the dresser. Bat leaning by the door. Knife and Barretta on the nightstand, and then his heavy backpack hits the floor, followed by his jacket and vest. He sneaks glances at you the entire time, checking for signs that you’ve changed your mind, but you’ve never been more sure.

“You left the flashlight on,” you remind him when he moves into your space. He has been like that since you met, always standing a little too close. This whole wide world all to yourselves, and he was never more than a few inches away.

“I want to see you,” he admits. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," comes out breathy as his thumb traces across your cheek. Remembering the way the water dripped down his chest in the cave has you hoping the batteries will last.

His head dips to capture your lips in a slow wet slide while his hands cradle your jaw, angling your head to take the kiss deeper. Dreamy minutes tick by, his attention never leaving your mouth. His controlled pace makes you feel needy and wanton. When you feel the sharp edge of his teeth against your lip, you know you aren't alone. Hands slide down your nape, across your shoulders, skimming down your sides. Fingers coming to rest in the hem of your sweatshirt.

"Can I take this off?"

You're so lightheaded it takes seconds to respond. Nodding your head and raising your arms toward the beamed ceiling. His hands grip the layers of material, riding you of them all at once instead of one at a time. The gold in his eyes turns molten as they pass over every curve and line he's uncovered. His knuckles turn white, fisting your shirt, and how he looks at you makes your knees a bit weak. Pulling your clothes from his hands, you let them fall to the floor.

"You're so goddamn pretty," he says, barely louder than a whisper.

"I know," you tease, earning you an easy smile and his hands on your waist, drawing you close. His head drops to your neck, chuckling against your skin, making your whole body break out in shivers.

"You're funny." His lips move on your skin before placing a wet kiss on a spot that has your toes curling inside your boots. "There were a couple of times I had to try really hard not to laugh.”

“I-I knew…you were holding out on me, Harrington,” you stammer as he moves to the spot below it.

“I wanted you to keep trying,” he says, adding gentle suction.

Whatever you were going to say comes out in a whine, but it was probably something like, please don't stop. He continues down to your collarbone, hands stroking up your back, releasing the catch on your bra. Letting the strap fall down your shoulders, you pull it out from between you as his mouth reaches the swell of your breast. Warm hands cup you as he sucks a nipple into his mouth, laving it with his tongue, the sensation shooting straight to your core.

“Steve,” you beg when he switches to the other side, not knowing if you want him to stop or give you more. Tugging him up by the collar, you crash your lips into his, but he slows you down with the backs of his fingers along your cheeks and a kiss so gentle it makes you want to cry. He walks you backward until your butt hits the mattress, and he leans forward, laying you down carefully until you're leaning on your elbows. With another soft press of his mouth, Steve straightens and sighs, looking down at you spread out for him.

“I would never have stopped,” you say when he lifts your foot and presses it against his thigh to loosen your laces. He swallows hard, nodding in understanding before he goes back to removing your boots and socks. This feels so different. He's making it different, taking care of every part of you like he wants it all.

Your fingers find their way into the gaps of the knitted afghan you're lying on while you watch him take off his boots and shirt. A dark patch of hair starts at the center of his chest and fans out. Even in this dark place, his skin looks golden. This is really happening. A flutter of nerves mixes with tingles of arousal.

His knee hits the edge of the bed, and you inch back toward the center as he crawls over you, settling into the cradle of your thighs. Skin finally meeting skin, you each release identical sighs.

"I should have kissed you when we were in the cave," he says, lips ghosting a path along your cheek.

"It's okay." Your eyes are heavy-lidded as you run your hands over the dips in his spine, enjoying the feel of him. "You're kissing me now."

"I should have kissed you every day." He places a kiss on the corner of your mouth before pulling back and smoothing the hair at your temples. "I'm sorry I wasted so much time."

He toys with the button on your jeans. Your zipper being lowered sounds like a needle dragging across a record. Moving onto his knees, he drags the denim down your legs, kissing each hip and your soaked panty-covered center before removing those too.

Kneeling to join him, your mouth finds the sharp line of his stubbled jaw. He groans, head tipping back, giving you better access to place soft, gentle bites along the column of his throat while your hands open his belt and pants. When you look down, the broad head of his cock is already pushing through the band of his boxers. Grabbing both layers, you ease them off his hips. He helps by pushing them the rest of the way down his legs, sending them to the floor with a kick.

His hands slide over you, warming your skin, molding to each curve. Every inch of you is admired. When his fingers move between your legs, your vision gets hazy, stars bursting at the edges. He spreads slickness through your folds while his lips stay pressed against yours. The warm blanket of pleasure becomes hotter, heavier—you grip his forearm with a shaking hand.

“Don’t be scared,” he says against your lips, “Tonight is for us.”

“I’m not scared,” you reply, pulling him closer, you can’t think of any place safer than in his arms.

“Why are you trembling?” He asks, brows pulling together.

“Because I’ve never wanted anything this much.”

Your legs fall open as he positions himself between them, lining up with your entrance. No doubts that you both are ready. He's slow and gentle with his first push inside you. Your body stretches and takes, then stretches and takes some more. He's about halfway when you can't help but clench around him, and he thrusts forward with a moan. Your back arches involuntarily, feeling fuller than you've ever been before.

"Sorry." He nudges you with his nose.

"Don't apologize." You kiss wherever you can reach. "Do it again."

He chuckles, and his hips flex enough to have your breath catching, still getting used to his size.

"You feel so good." His eyes briefly close as your walls flutter around him, and he begins to move in slow, shallow strokes. "Like you're made for me, honey."

You're starting to think maybe you were. Maybe you were made for each other. He drops to his forearms, and you tangle your fingers in his hair, bringing his mouth back to yours. His hand slides over your hip and down your thigh, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist so can bury himself deeper. He rocks into you with a steady pace, gazes locked, trading sighs, impossible to be any closer. The ache in your heart swells, spreading through you. A tear spills over your lash line, it's too much for you to contain.

"I love you," you whisper as he wipes it with his thumb. "I thought you should know."

His movements still. He stares down at you and swallows hard, trying to loosen the tightness in his throat. "Tell me again."

"I love you."

Taking your hand, he holds it against the center of his chest. His heart beats against your palm. He's been telling you this whole time. He smiles, and it feels brighter than the sun. Your hand stays pressed against the warm skin over his heart as his head dips, sealing his soft lips to yours.

His kiss is filled with words left unsaid and unrestrained desire. Your hips roll involuntarily, desperate for friction as you whimper into his mouth. He breaks away with a scrape of teeth and hungry eyes.

"I need you," he mumbles, lifting your hips to change the angle. His hand grips the back of your thigh, pushing it toward your chest, using it as leverage as he drives into you with smooth deep rolling thrusts. Jolts of white-hot pleasure bloom from your core and radiate to every cell when he finds that switch inside you. The one that has you crying out. The one that didn’t exist before him. You’re not surprised. He’s good at everything he does.

“That’s it, honey. I want to hear all those pretty noises.” His fingers tighten, pressing into the plush of your thigh as his hips snap forward. The smacks of skin on skin become the baseline for your harmony of moans and pleas. Your heels dig into his backside as your hips rise to meet his thrusts. The chill in the room does nothing to calm the heat between you or the sheen of sweat covering your bodies.

"Steve...I–"

Threads of love and pleasure weave together until they're a single silken cord pulling taunt inside you. He releases your thigh, working his hand between you, his thumb circling your slick clit.

"Please, baby. I want to feel you cum."

The rasp in his voice. The desperate look on his face. You're his, and there's nothing you'd deny him. The cord snaps with you crying out his name, pulsing around him, fingers digging into the muscles that cap his shoulders. Euphoria crests in big surges that go on and on as he thrusts lose their tempo. He groans as warmth starts to fill you, painting your walls white with his release.

He eases onto you, and you take his weight cradling him to your chest.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," you whisper, maybe too low for him to hear, your hands smooth over his back while your legs wrap tightly around him. He kisses along your temple before taking your face in his hands.

"I don't regret a single decision that led me to you."

He's still holding you when the vibrations send the bedside lamp crashing to the floor. Wisps of smoke curl in the air when you wake up in the hazy room with a burning throat and begin coughing. Steve grabs your arm and pulls you from the bed. He braces one arm against the door frame and holds you against his chest with the other. The tremors increase. The sounds of falling things and breaking dishes mix with the rumbling of the earth. A crack forms at the bottom of the far wall and runs diagonally toward the ceiling. A scream rips from your dry throat when the window explodes into a shower of glass, and smoke pours into the room.

“We’ve gotta get out now,” Steve yells when the quake abruptly stops. “Get dressed and grab what you can.”

Grabbing your crumpled jeans from the floor, you slide them over your hips and shove your feet into your boots. Your sweatshirt sticks out from under the bed, and when you kneel to grab it, the black metal handle of the Baretta catches your eye. Steve has finished dressing and is grabbing his pack and bat when you finish pulling the sweatshirt over your head.

“Come on,” he says, holding out his hand for you to take. He leads you into the living room, where half the ceiling has collapsed, spoiling any chance of you moving the heavy credenza that blocks the front door.

“The window,” you cry, backtracking into the bedroom with Steve right behind you. He lifts you through the broken frame but is left with no choice other than to grip the window frame to climb out. Jagged glass slicing his hand in the process.

“Your hand.” Your fingers circle his wrist, trying to assess the damage.

“It’s alright,” he says, pulling a bandana from his pocket and squeezing it into his fist,“We have to go.” His injured hand goes around your shoulder, turning you away from the cottage. Blood flows through the gaps of his fingers, dripping onto your sweatshirt as he keeps you tucked into his side.

The dense, acrid smoke makes finding your way through the trees hard. Smoldering twigs and vines rain down all around you, igniting piles of dry leaves on the forest floor. Your mouth opens with a gasp when your eyes turn skyward to see the treetops blazing and the billows of rolling red and orange flames that have replaced the dark clouds, completely consuming the atmosphere. The smoke thins as you make it out of the woods and into the open center of the dry lake.

Hot tears pour from your eyes, leaving streaks of soot down your face, and you can't stop coughing, trying to clear your distressed lungs. The quarter-full canteen from Steve’s pack is pressed into your hands.

“Drink it,” he rasps, coughing and spitting the black from his lungs.

Twisting the top, you gulp it, careful to drink only half. He shakes his head when you hold it out to him, but you take his hand and wrap it around the bottle, not giving him a choice. With an annoyed look, he finishes the water.

“What do we do?” you ask, panicked, watching his head turn back and forth, trying to decide the best course of action. The smoke and fog make it hard to see more than fifty feet in any direction. He looks down at your alarmed face, the sorrow in his eyes giving you his answer.

No. It can't be over. Pressing the heels of your hands to your forehead, you wrack your brain for any answer.

"The cave," you grasp his arms, pleading.

"Is it deep enough?" He asks, the doubt written on his face.

"I-I don't know." You shake your head with fresh tears filling your eyes.

His face hardens in determination. "Let's go."

Hands locked together, you race through the tangle of vines covering the limestone bed toward the other side of the lake, where the cave is tucked into the side of a hill just beyond the edge of the woods. Glancing back over your shoulder, you can see a wall of flames has crashed like a wave engulfing the houses and the little cottage cutting you off from the way back to town. The smoke thickens as the wind picks up, shortening your field of vision and slowing you down.

"Almost there," Steve reassures as you do your best to keep up with his long strides.

You doubt your ears when you first hear it, thinking it's just a tree snapping and the roar of the fire. It's the high pitch chittering that has terror creeping up your spine. Its outline becomes visible through the smoke. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Petal mouth in full bloom. Your body freezes in place. Your grip on Steve’s hand tightens like a vice.

“Stay behind me,” he tells you, shaking his hand from your clasp as the monster comes into full view. It limps forward, smoke rising from charred skin covering half its body, its damaged clawed limb hanging loosely at its side—sticky strings of saliva drip from its rows of teeth.

“We don’t have to do this,” Steve says in a low, calm voice, “You’re already hurt. Just let us walk on by.”

You’re astonished when the monster stops, like maybe it understood him, and for a heartbeat, you think it may have listened.

It charges forward with a deafening roar, claw swiping at Steve's head. Missing when Steve drops into a low batter’s crouch, swinging his bat and connecting with the burned half of its abdomen. It shrieks when the nails tear through its flesh. Black blood pouring from the wound. Steve gives it no time to recover. Hitting it again and again, driving the thing back. It howls, disappearing into the smoke.

Your pulse is drumming in your ears as everything goes quiet. Steve stands there, elbow up, ready to swing. Trees pop and crackle as the fire spreads through the woods. Your eyes strain, trying to see into the smoke, but there's nothing. Adrenaline starts to dissipate, and Steve's arm comes down slowly. He glances over his shoulder, giving you a smug smile, and you let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding.

It pounces from the fog, screeching. Backhanding Steve, sending him flying. He hits the ground hard, rolling, trying to get to his feet, but the monster is already too close, on all fours, ready to strike.

"No!" you scream, drawing its attention. Reaching back, your hand closes over the grip of the Barretta tucked into your jeans. The thing looks at you, and you fire. The bullet punches through the burnt skin of its shoulder. With an ear-splitting scream, it gallops toward you. Your finger squeezes the trigger in rapid succession. Unloading the clip. Missing more than you hit. Its claw rips through your forearm, knocking the gun from your hand. Clutching your arm, you fall backward onto your butt, trying to inch away.

It knows it has you now. Dropping to all fours, it slowly crawls over you, drooling onto your clothes. It blows its wet breath into your face as it chitters. Your stomach rolls at the stench, and your eyes flutter close as it rears back to strike.

Wetness splatters your face. The axe head is logged halfway into the back of the monster's thick neck. With a gurgle, the thing falls to its side. With your good arm and feet, you scurry backward away from it. Blood runs down the side of Steve's face from where the skin is split open on his forehead. Breathing hard, he stomps his boot onto the shoulder of the creature. There's a wet sucking sound as he pulls the axe from its neck. He grunts, bringing it down over and over until the monster's head is separated from its body.

The axe clangs when it hits the ground. Steve wipes the blood from his eyes with the back of his hands. It’s too much, you want to be brave for him, but you can’t hold back the tears.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” he says in a soft voice helping you to your feet, “Don’t cry.” He wraps his blood-soaked bandana around your arm and pulls you into his chest. “You’re alright.”

Your hands wrap around his waist, dipping under his shirt so you can feel his smooth skin under your fingers while he rubs reassuring circles up and down your back as your teardrops darken the leather of his jacket.

"Aren't you glad you taught me to shoot?" you ask, sniffing into his shoulder, smiling when you feel his chest vibrating with laughter.

"I guess it came in handy after all," he says with his lips kissing along your temple.

"You saved me, Steve."

"I didn't–"

"You did."

"I didn't, but I wish I had."

"Look at me." He cradles your jaw to tip your head back, and the small motion leaves you dizzy. As you stand in each other's embrace, the haze and smoke have thickened.

“You’re beautiful.” His thumb rubs along your cheek, and you laugh, knowing you're covered with soot and gore. “You are, and you deserve to know.”

“Thank you,” you say, knowing why he’s telling you. While you fought off the monster, the blaze swept through the woods, leaving walls of fire surrounding the lake. The vines covering the bed have started to catch. Soon the flames on the ground will flare higher, joining the fiery sky. The planet will heat and explode. The two of you will become bright lights in the cosmos. Constellations. Star dust. Souls forever wandering the galaxies.

"I love you," he tells you with tears in his eyes, "I do. I love you."

"I love you too." Your throat burns with the effort to speak.

"Close your eyes."

Your eyes close as his head dips and his soft lips press against yours. His hand slides to the back of your neck and you cling to him. Trading breaths, tongues dancing.

This kiss is a thousand words.

This kiss is goodbye.

The heat is at your back and through your closed eyes the light gets brighter. His grip on you tightens before the kiss breaks and you hear him calling out your name. When you look for him, it's too bright to see, like you're staring into the sun. His hands slip as he's pulled away from you, sliding over your shoulders and arms until you're connected by just your fingertips.

"No. El." His voice comes from far away. Echoing down a tunnel. "Not without her."

"Steve," you scream as his fingers slip away. "Steve!" But you're alone with the howl of the wind and the taste of smoke in your mouth. Your hands come up to shield your face as the light gets brighter, and then there's nothing.

Part 3 Here

AN: So what do you think is in store for these two? Are they going to make it? Thanks to everyone who took the time to comment & reblog Part 1. Writing this fic has been challenging, so the comments meant a lot. But even if you're shy and don't like to comment but still took the time to read I'm still very grateful. My asks are always open, (Anon or Not) Do me a soild and reblog if you liked it. 💋 -Jelly

Another big thanks to @myeuphoricmindset for letting me adapt her concept.

#superb steve harrington series #ITNC 💛#upsidedown

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superbfics · 9 months ago

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I know Jelly knows, but believe me everyone, I have cried now a total of four times over this chapter. It hits me that hard every time, and I know it's coming, and it still gets me. Jelly you are SO talented in capturing such raw emotion and making me feel what reader is actually feeling. And I'll never get over how vivid your imagery is. I'm ready to get my heart stitched back up this next chapter please, okay? 💛 these crazy idiots love each other dammit and I need it all to be okay.

“Steve!” Your cry is muffled by the mask covering your nose and mouth, forcing oxygen into your lungs. “Steve,” you try again, tears blurring your vision.

Just the immediate need for him upon waking? I feel it desperately.

As the light fades, the sky is streaked with creamy tangerines and pinks, but when your eyes close, all you can see is red. It’s hard to remember that you should be grateful. You’re home, and you’re safe. This is what you wanted. He saved you. He gave that to you. He gave you everything. And you took, without thinking twice. There’s nothing more that you can ask from him. After everything he’s done for you, you can’t ask him to love you. Not when it means he’s giving up the one thing he’s always wanted–Her.

And then you have the nurse ask us if we're in pain and we think "So much" but tell her a little?!

He nods, continuing his thoughts, "Those damn kids think he's a hero–"

"He is," you say matter-of-factly without any hesitation. After everything, you won't hear otherwise.

“You’re still coming tomorrow, right? Everyone wants to meet you. Especially Henderson. That little shit keeps saying he needs to hear what happened from another person of science.” He quotes the title with his fingers fighting back a smile as he shakes his head, feigning annoyance, but it’s no secret how much he loves them all.

“We’re going to be alright.” Your voice cracks on the last word, but you don’t let your smile slip. He stands, reaching for your hand, pulling you into his chest. Your eyes close as your arms circle his waist, breathing him in for what might be the last time. His warmth surrounds you, fills you. It has you wishing you could bottle it. Take it with you. Let it tide you over until you feel this way again with someone else. It will never be him, but you have time now. He gave that to you. And with that time the memories will fade away, and you’ll be happy again.

*tear ducts ready*

“I know. Me too.” Your head tips back so he can see your face, and you hope he’ll remember this as truth. “You’ll always be my hero.”

*tears begin pooling on lashline*

He looks up, letting you get lost in the warm amber of his eyes one last time.

“Think about me sometimes, okay?”

“You don’t need to worry about that, honey,“ he says, lips turning up despite his sad eyes, “I’m always going to be thinking about you.”

*just openly falling tears now*

He looks up, letting you get lost in the warm amber of his eyes one last time?!

His shoulders turn toward the parking lot and you close the door. Your tears fall unrestrained as you turn the bolt and slide the chain into place. Turning, you lean against the door and sink down to the floor, covering your face with both hands as you sob. Knowing that it was the right thing to let him go because only the right thing could be this hard.

*I explode from crying so much*

Knowing that it was the right thing to let him go because only the right thing could be this hard.

If Tomorrow Never Comes | Part 3 | Goodbye

Adapted from As The World Burns by @myeuphoricmindset

TW: FemReader, Angst WC: 4221 Masterlist Here

The loud hiss in your ears drags you back to awareness from the depths of peaceful blackness. There is something off about the air you’re breathing. It’s cold and dry and leaves a plastic taste in your mouth, so different from the smoke.

The smoke.

Your eyes fly open as you bolt upright, only to have a hand on your shoulder force you back onto the bed.

“Steve!” Your cry is muffled by the mask covering your nose and mouth, forcing oxygen into your lungs. “Steve,” you try again, tears blurring your vision.

“He’s alright. It’s okay. You’re both safe.” A tall man in a tan uniform is holding you against the bed. “Easy now, kid. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

There’s a dull ache where the IV pulls the skin of your wrist and a tightness where your arm has been stitched and bandaged. The stern look on his face doesn’t hide the kindness in his eyes.

The whooshing sound of metal on metal accompanies the curtains surrounding your bed being drawn back.

“Ah, good. She’s awake,” says a shorter man dressed in green scrubs and a white lab coat. “I’m Dr. Timmons, but everyone around here just calls me Doc.” He picks up the chart hanging from the end of your bed as a nurse pushes past him, moving to your side.

“Just a minute, and we’ll get that off you, sweetheart,” she soothes, replacing the oxygen mask with tubing that fits into your nose and wraps around each ear. “There, that’s better,” she says, satisfied, continuing on to check the bag of fluid that’s connected to your IV.

The police officer stepped back a few paces to give the nurse room to work and now stands with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the doctor with a blank expression.

“You came to us in quite a state,” the doctor says, looking up from the chart. “Can you tell us what happened to you?”

“She doesn’t need to go into all that, doc,” the policeman interrupts, “It’s just like the boy said - they were exploring a cave when the earthquake hit and got trapped inside.”

“I know that’s what you sa-”

“She’s not going to tell you any different. Isn’t that right, kid?” The policeman asks without taking his eyes off the doctor.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you say with a strained voice, becoming aware of the burning in your throat, “Can I have some water, please?”

“I’ll get that for you, sweetie,” the nurse says, pulling the curtain and walking out into the busy ER.

“Look, Hopper, her injuries contradict that story. I’m gonna need some more answers here,” Dr. Timmons’ tone has changed, clearly frustrated by being given the runaround.

“We’ve got people looking into it,” Hopper assures, crowding into the doctor’s space, “The kids are back safe and sound. You don’t need the hassle of filling out all that paperwork. You just get her all fixed up, doc. Let me handle the rest.” He takes another step closer and lowers his voice, “Just like I did after you tied one on at hideaway and decided to get behind the wheel.”

The doctor blanches, his face taking on a deep shade of plum. “Fine. We’ll do it your way, Hopper, but I’m admitting her.” He slams your chart into the hook at the end of your bed and points at you. “You’re staying put until your blood oxygen is over 95. You got that?”

Moving your head up and down you mumble a ‘yes’ before the doctor turns back to Hopper. “I’m going to go do my job if that’s alright with you.”

“By all means,” Hopper says with a wave of his hand as Dr. Timmons angrily pulls back the curtain, almost crashing into the nurse that had come back with some water. Hopper takes it from her and shuts the curtains behind them.

“You did good, kid.” He hands you the plastic cup with the straw.

“Please, I need to see Steve.” Your eyes sting as they fill with tears. You have to see that he’s okay, that this is real. That it was all real.

“He’ll be right back, I promise,” He says, trying to soothe you. “He wants to see you, too. That dummy wouldn’t get looked at until he knew you were okay. Nancy had to drag him away to get his hand stitched up.”

Nancy.

“Look, I know you two have been through hell, but I’m going to need you to do me a favor and keep all this to yourself, okay?” He waits for you to nod your head. “I’ll explain more to you when you’re out of here, but staying quiet for now is safer for everyone.”

“I–” You’re cut off when the curtain opens, and you’re met with Steve’s bloodshot eyes. Ashes cling to the strands of his hair. His face is streaked with soot and blood. The only clean spot surrounds the bandage covering his temple, but he’s still the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. The relief you feel pushes the tears over your lash line, leaving black drops on the white sheet as they run down your face.

“She’s awake,” Hopper points out the obvious, breaking the silent connection between you and Steve.

“I noticed,” Steve says, shooting Hopper a look before returning his attention to you, “Are you okay?”

It’s then you notice the petite brunette at his side. Her caramel curls swirl around her questioning blue eyes as she looks back and forth between you and Steve.

“I’m Nancy,” she introduces herself before you can answer him, her tiny hand winding around his elbow.

So this is her. A low pain travels from your gut to your chest. “Hi,” you address her with a forced smile. “I’m alright,” your eyes bounce back to Steve’s, “Just a little smokey.” You place a hand over your burning throat.

The screech of the curtain cuts off any further conversation.

“Goodness,” the nurse says, clutching a small stack of papers to her chest, “You kids aren’t supposed to be in here. We made an exception for Chief Hopper.” She pulls your chart from the end of the bed to add the paperwork. “We have a room already for you upstairs.” She squeezes between Hopper and your bed to unhook you from the monitors.

“They’re keeping me overnight,” you explain to Steve, who opens his mouth to protest.

“She needs some oxygen, Harrington. She’ll be alright,” Hopper reassures him.

“That’s right, and you, sir, should be going home to rest,” the nurse says to Steve, “Concussions are nothing to be taken lightly.

Looking toward Steve, you suck in a breath. He’s hurt, and you’ll be apart. Anxiety directs your hand, sliding across the bed in his direction, but he’s just out of reach.

“Maybe I should stay with her..” Steve hedges, placing his good hand on the bed inches from yours.

“Come on, Steve,” Nancy says, covering his hand with her own and pulling it away from you along with his attention, “She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need you to protect her.” She rolls her eyes with a dismissive laugh. “Besides, you need someone to keep waking you up. You can come home with me, okay?” Her question comes out almost shyly, looking up at him from under her lashes. As his hand tightens around hers, you realize you were right all along. Everything does happen for a reason.

He promises he’ll be back first thing in the morning before leaving with her hand in his. As you’re wheeled to your room, you see him enveloped in a hug by a group of young teens, Nancy’s hand running up and down his back. A peace settles over you, blanketing your pain. Everything is as it should be.

The sheets and blankets on your hospital bed are dry and warm, but you still can feel the cold. The nurses helped you clean up and got you something warm to eat. Despite your exhaustion, you still can't fall asleep. You've been lying on your side facing the window ever since they left you alone. The cracked top of the library's clock tower interrupts your view of the blue sky and drifting white clouds. Colors you hadn't expected to see again.

If you stand, you might be able to see the closed seam of the gate you fell through, now nothing more than a scar on this town that will soon heal and be forgotten. You may not be as lucky. Some wounds are just too deep. With all the credit you give fate, you can't imagine one so cruel that you're meant to survive losing Steve Harrington.

“Sweetie, why aren’t you resting?” The nurse has come in to change the bag of fluid attached to your IV. “Are you in pain?” She asks.

So much.

“Just a little,” you reply, “I’m just having trouble falling asleep.” Your eyes don’t stray from the darkening sky. Stars are just beginning to appear.

“Well, the good news is that your oxygen levels are looking normal. You’ll be going home in the morning.” She moves into your line of sight, and you force your lips into a tight smile.

“Do you want something to help you sleep?”

“Yes, please.”

She returns a few minutes later, injecting something into the line attached to your wrist. There's a burst of cold as the fluid enters your veins and your eyelids begin to droop. The chill at your back reminds you of his absence. One last truth echoes through your consciousness before you're dragged into the depths of sleep.

He was never really yours.

"He wanted to come himself," Hopper says from behind a pair of dark sunglasses, his eyes never straying from the road ahead as you bump along in his Chevy Blazer. The extended weather report for the week playing softly on the radio.

"I'm sure," you reply, watching the scenery of Hawkins blur by outside your window.

"Nancy was worried about him driving," he continues to try explaining why he is the one picking you up from the hospital instead of Steve.

"Of course. Makes sense." Your acceptance sounds contrived, even to your own ears. Seeing him will just make things harder, anyway. A new voice crackles from the radio, interrupting your thoughts.

"Two missing students have been found alive and well after being missing for several weeks after yet another earthquake rocked the small town of Haw-"

Hopper’s hand shoots down to twist the knob on the radio, tuning the static until he lands on a station playing Jim Croce.

“I hear the motel six is pretty nice. They've got a pool, right?”

“They did. It cracked during the earth–” you correct yourself, “Gate opening.”

"Perdue kept paying for your room while the search was on. So everything should be how you left it."

“Well, it's a pretty good school.”

He nods. “You're studying rocks, right?”

“Geology.”

“Same thing,” he says, turning onto Main Street. Traffic flows easily, most of the roadblocks have been taken down, and repairs to the buildings are already underway. “Are you ready to get back to it?”

“I don't know. Studying the mysteries of the earth doesn't seem that exciting once you've been trapped in another dimension.”

The noise that comes from him is somewhere between a grunt and a chuckle. “I see why he likes you.”

“Did you know where I was?” You ask as you pass by the library. It looks the same as you left it. Half of it rubble, a crack running up the clock-tower, a few dead vines still clinging to its side.

His mouth twists as he shakes his head. “When the gate closed, it sent the town back into chaos, and we were focused on getting Steve back. I didn’t know you were missing until the folks with your school reported it. I should have guessed.”

“He didn’t think you were coming,” you tell him, your voice turning quiet. The music is too soft for him not to have heard you, but he doesn’t react.

"Look, you seem like a smart girl. If Harrington has already filled you in, I don't suppose I need to tell you why it's important to keep this to yourself. I don't want the government here poking and prodding my daughter or Steve or the rest of them. It's for your safety as well as theirs. Can I count on you to do the right thing here?”

"I understand. Believe me, the last thing I want is any trouble. I won't say a word."

“I’ve been down there, ya know. A couple of times. I can only imagine what you had to do to survive.” His face gives nothing away as his wrist casually rests on top of the wheel, but his statement is more of a question, and this conversation isn’t going to end until he finds the answers he’s searching for.

“It wasn’t….” you trail off, shaking your head, “Steve kept us safe.”

“Never would’ve expected anything less from Harrington. That kid throws himself between danger and someone he cares about without thinking twice. He’s a lot like my daughter in that way.”

“Eleven?” You ask, putting the pieces together.

He nods, continuing his thoughts, "Those damn kids think he's a hero–"

"He is," you say matter-of-factly without any hesitation. After everything, you won't hear otherwise.

The man's lips twitch, rising at the corners before he turns his head and peers at you from over his glasses, "Hmm. Well, they all want to meet you, hear what happened," he says before turning his eyes back to the road. "Nancy insisted on waiting one more day to let you two get some rest. She can be a little um…intense." His head bobs, pleased with his choice of words. "Now, Steve. That kid decided that she was the one back in high school. Hasn't changed his mind even though she's broken his heart a few times since then," he looks over at you again, "Me? I'm not so convinced."

"Well, thanks for filling me in on that, Chief." You try to keep the sarcasm out of your voice as you move your head back toward the window.

"You can call me Hopper," amusement laces his tone, "And I thought you might like to know, is all."

“Why would I want to know that?”

“Look, kid, I’m not one to get involved in–"

Blowing out a breath of disbelief, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"Okay. Maybe I am. Harrington reminds me a little of myself at that age, and I'm just trying to save the kid some misery."

“You must be a good cop, Hopper. Do people always tell you what you want to know?”

“One way or another,” he says with a sly smile, pulling into the motel parking lot. He kills the engine and pulls a blue and red keychain from his pocket. He drops the subject moving on to the next item on his agenda. “I already stopped at the office and got your key, so you can go on in and rest. I’ll pick you up tomorrow around one and bring you to meet the others. If you get reporters calling you, remember what we talked about."

“Thanks for the ride, Hopper. Don’t worry, I won’t forget.” Not any of it.

Your key sticks in the lock, and you apply a little pressure with your hip, forgetting about your stitches, until your arm bumps the door, sending pain shooting through your arm. Dust motes rise into the stale smelling air as you push into the small room. As Hopper said, everything is just as you left it. Every surface is covered with maps and books. Stacks of samples packed into boxes sitting on the floor. Extra climbing equipment and your open suitcase overflowing with clothes take up all the space on the extra bed. Having requested no housekeeping, the bed you last slept in remains unmade. An indent from your head is still clearly visible on your pillow. It’s all yours, but none of it feels familiar, like it all belongs to someone else-a girl you used to know.

“Thanks, Caroline. Yeah, there’s somebody at the door.”

“Just a minute,” you call with your hand over the phone receiver when another knock sounds from the other side of your door.

“Sorry. I don’t know,” you say, continuing your phone call, “Yup, I will. See you tomorrow. 10:30. Okay, Bye.”

Getting up from the bed, you pull your arms through the sleeves of an old cardigan to fight off the chill from the night air, your hair still damp from the shower. “Who is it?” You ask, looking through the peephole.

“Steve,” the reply comes at the same time you catch sight of the familiar chestnut hair.

The sound of his voice sends a dozen different emotions buzzing under your skin as your nervous fingers work open the lock. Taking a deep breath, you swing open the door, but the sight of him steals all the air away. Freshly shaven, hair perfectly styled, wearing a mustard-colored sweatshirt with an expensive-looking watch strapped to his wrist. His eyes lock with yours and you're alone together for the first time since the Upside-Down.

“Are you going to let me in?” He asks when the silence has stretched out between you.

“Yeah. Of course,” you say, backing into your room, “I’m sorry.”

He moves inside, closing the door behind him. As if it’s a habit, he steps closer to you, moving into your space. His arms rise like he plans on reaching for you, but his fists close around nothing before retreating into the pockets of his well-worn jeans. Sometimes you hate being right. He’s made his choice. Tugging at the ends of your cardigan, you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold in the pieces of your broken heart.

"Do you want to sit?" You ask, nodding toward the spare bed with your packed suitcase on it.

“Sure,” he says, moving toward the bed. He takes a seat on the edge, wiping his hands along the worn denim of jean-covered thighs, long legs taking up most of the space between the two beds. Stepping over his legs, you pull up the rumpled bed covers before sitting opposite of him, wiggling your hands under your thighs so you won’t be tempted to touch him.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be driving,” you blurt out a little too direct.

His face falls. “I’m not,” he replies, looking a bit sheepish, “Shit. I should have been there this morning. Nance con–”

“No, no. It’s fine. I can’t ask you for anything more, Steve,” you try reassuring him, but you know it’s not coming out right.

“Ask me?” His brows pull together in the middle, “You’ve never asked me for anything.”

“No. I just meant..” You shake your head, trying to clear away whatever this is between you that’s stopping you from connecting to him like you had before. “I just…are you okay? Does your head hurt?”

“No. Everything’s alright. Everyone is just overreacting. What about you? Your arm? Are you breathing okay?” This time he does reach out, his hand landing on your knee, the warmth of it almost feels like a burn.

“I’m fine,” you say, looking away from his hand, “I’ll just need to make a follow-up appointment in a few weeks at home.”

“Home?” His hand withdrawals to his own lap and looks over his shoulder at the suitcase behind him.

“Yeah, back to school. We both get our lives back, thanks to you. See, I was right. You did save me, Harrington,” you try keeping your tone light, a small smile on your mouth.

“I don’t know about that. I’m pretty sure we did it together.”

You can see he’s conflicted, not ready to face the truth that’s hanging over your heads, invisibly flashing like a neon sign-you don’t fit in with each other’s lives here.

“I wish I could. I have to get back.” This is it. It’s time. “My friend from school is picking me up in the morning.”

“That soon? I could have driven you.” He frowns.

“Steve, you’ve got a life here. Your friends are waiting for you to come back to it.” And so do you, even if it’s going to feel different than the one you left behind. This has changed you. He has changed you. You love him enough not to take any more from him.

“They’ll understand. We’ve….we….I could stay with you for a few days.” He’s arguing, but you know deep down he knows it won’t work.

“Steve–”

“Until your stitches are out. Just to make sure you're okay.”

“And what would Nancy say about that?”

His mouth opens, but the words aren’t there.

“It's okay, Steve,” you give him a smile, “It’s okay. I'm glad she’s finally seeing you for the good man that you are.” The way I do. “You deserve that.”

“This doesn’t feel right,” he says, swallowing hard, a pained look on his face, “After everything…you and I….”

“I meant every word I said,” he whispers against your ear. His fingers press tightly into your back like he might not let you go, and god, you don’t want him to.

“I know. Me too.” Your head tips back so he can see your face, and you hope he’ll remember this as truth. “You’ll always be my hero.”

He looks down at you, eyes shining before they close. His head dips until he can place a chaste kiss on your mouth, letting his lips linger long enough that you can memorize their soft feeling. His hand caresses your cheek, and he steps back. Without his touch tethering you, it feels like you might float away.

“I should go,” he says, his hands shoving back into his pockets, and you nod, ready to have this end.

“Please explain to Hopper for me,” you say, following him to the door.

“I will.” His hand turns the knob, opening your room to the cold night. Once his feet are over the threshold, he turns back toward you. “Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t go falling down any more rabbit holes.”

“I’ll try,“ you chuckle, “Stay safe. Let them take care of you for once.”

His eyes roll before he nods. “If you ever need me–”

“I know where to find you.” You grip the edge of the door to stop yourself from reaching for him.

“Okay.” His head bobs more as he looks down at his feet, a stubborn lock of hair falling over his forehead.

“Steve?”

He looks up, letting you get lost in the warm amber of his eyes one last time.

“Think about me sometimes, okay?”

“You don’t need to worry about that, honey,“ he says, lips turning up despite his sad eyes, “I’m always going to be thinking about you.”

The hollow ache in your chest spreads through your whole body, and tears escape, running hot over your skin. Before you can blink, his thumb is there, brushing them away.

“How about one more smile?”

“Yeah,” you sniff, swiping at your eyes quickly before putting all your love and hope for him into a smile, wanting him to take it with him.

“Bye, Steve.”

“Bye.”

AN: I decided to split to chapter it was just going to be too long. Besides, I made a really cute banner for the next part. So stay tuned Part 4 The Reason will coming soon. Thanks for reading and I'd love to hear what you think. xoxo -Jelly

Beta'd by @superblysubpar

#superb steve harrington series #ITNC 💛#upsidedown

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superbfics · 6 months ago

Text

The post card 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

“So I’ve got the way?” you ask and Steve smiles, lifting your hand to his lips. Pressing a slow and soft kiss to your knuckles.

I'm not crying, you are!! I'm totally fine!!!

Streetlife Serenade

Chapter Three - Weekend Song 🎶

Pairing: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, money struggles, emotional vulnerability, mentions of sleeping together, minor language, just two kids in love.

Summary: You and Steve finally both get a weekend off of work and Steve wastes no time taking you on a little getaway for just the two of you. It may not be much but it’s enough.

word count: 2.5k

Two ←→ Four

Masterlist

Winter 1986

If I'm gonna lose it I might as well be doin' it right

Steve can’t tear his eyes away from the clock. It had been like this his entire shift. Robin had already yelled at him twice for not helping her restock but how could he? How could he do something as mundane as putting movies on a shelf when he knew in just two hours you will be standing at your door and ready to go?

He had been working to hard anyway, picking up shifts just to fill the time when Robin and the kids were at school, and to spend more time with you. It had been back breaking and the overtime had run him down. The only thing even keeping him alive was doing a nine to five shift and knowing it was one step closer to getting enough money to share a life with you.

When the clock finally strikes five he’s out the door as fast as Cinderella at midnight, leaving Robin in his dust who just rolls her eyes because her best friend is dumb and in love. He knew he didn’t have the money to go on a trip but for the first time since starting at Family Video you both had the weekend off, so he was going to take his girl on a get away trip. Whether you picked him up, met him at the station, or rode in his car for hours. He couldn’t afford a vacation but he could take the strain if it meant going with you.

“Hey baby, you ready?” he calls out, pushing the door open to your home. When he sees you scurry down the stairs, bag hung over your shoulder he can’t help but smile.

“How was work?” you beam at him, arms coiling around his neck the minute his wrap around your waist. He presses a sweet kiss to your lips before providing an answer.

“Long, you ready?” he asks, desperate to hit the road and have you to himself all weekend.

“Yes Mr. Eager” you say, poking at his sides and he lightly flinches and pulls away.

“I’m just excited baby, we got some money to spend tonight” he grins that Steve Harrington grin at you and you just roll your eyes, used to effect he had on you.

“No we don’t but I suppose we can treat ourselves this one time” you smile back at him, knowing this was a big step in your relationship. This was your first trip together and even if it was small it meant things were getting even more serious between you.

“Yes, let’s do this thing” he claps and you roll your eyes, moving to put on your shoes. Steve shakes away his weekday blues as he lets the anticipation of the weekend envelop him. He knew pretty soon he’d be leaving with the wages he was receiving but at the very least he could treat you to something fun.

“Come on baby, take me away” he says as your hand interlocks his and you step out the door. You roll your eyes at his excitement despite secretly loving it.

You had been excited for this trip all day too, preparing and watching the clock for when Steve would arrive. Making sure you had a meal, shower, and change of clothes for the small getaway trip. When he finally came through that door it was like a breath of fresh air to your lungs. In just a few hours you’d be in Indianapolis, in a small motel, and seeing the city for the very first time.

Taking off down the road, dusk falling upon you, you fumble through the cassettes in Steve’s center console. Searching for the perfect road trip album. Just as your fingers find the colorful album art you grab it quickly and pop it into the stereo. Streetlife Serenader starting through the speakers. Suddenly Steve chuckles to himself and you give him a curious look.

“What?” you pry, hand curling around his arm on the gearshift.

“Nothing, I just think it’s funny I find a way to burn my money as quick as I earned it” he says, flashing you a smile that holds no regret. As much as you both had been saving up to get out of that crummy job, small set backs like this made it all worth it. You can’t have a future together if you don’t spend time together now.

“You’ll earn it back next week” you tell him, eyes glancing over his form. The boy you had come to love so much in the last year.

“I’d just broke even tonight, but I know it’ll be alright. There is no one else I’d rather be doing this with than you” he says, leaning over to offer a quick kiss before facing the road.

“I’m excited. I’ve never been to a big city. What do you think the canal is like?” you muse, excited to be somewhere other than small town Hawkins for once.

“Big, what do you think the motel bed will look like?” he asks, daring a glance at you and you gasp softly, hand reaching to smack his chest.

“Steven, it’s vacation. We can’t stay in the room the whole time” you tell him with the shake of your head and he laughs.

“I know Rosy but I just worked an eight hour day at the video store and am now driving for God knows how long. I’m dreaming of that bed and more specifically you in it” he tells you earnestly and your ears burn pink, proving that nickname even further. Steve just smiles at your reaction and lets go of the gearshift to lace his fingers with your own.

“We’ll be there soon enough” you tell him, lifting his hand to press a soft kiss to his knuckles.

It was shocking how the closer you got to the city, the more you could see the bright light in the distance. You had heard how cities were always awake and until now you never really understood what that meant. It’s not until the car finally meets road between sky high buildings, lit up like Christmas trees, do you understand exactly what that means. By this time now in Hawkins the street lights would barely be providing enough light to make it down the road but here, the street was clear as day.

“It’s so beautiful” you tell Steve, an excited grin plastered across your face. You can’t tear your eyes away from the people walking the streets, laughing and talking into the night air. Something you’d never see in small street Hawkins. The only night life there was in Hawkins was high school parties in the woods.

“I’ve seen better” Steve says, mischief dripping from his tone as he eyes you in the front seat. You just roll your eyes until Steve needs help navigating the hotel. After two missed turns since you weren’t paying attention to the map, do you finally pull into the two story motel.

“Hurry up, I want to see the room” you urge him when he takes to long to collect the bags and Steve just laughs.

“Says the girl who just picked on me for wanting to see the bed” he says, shutting the trunk and holding each of your bags in each arm.

“Don’t dwell on it now, let’s move it mister” you jump excitedly and he shakes his head even though he loves you and your excitement.

Quickly checking in you discover you’re on the second floor and facing the street, your excitement carries your feet swiftly up the stairs and Steve right behind you. Using the key to unlock the door you’re met with a small room, pink sheets, and brown carpet. It’s nothing special but it’s perfect. You’ve turned and thrown yourself in Steve’s arms before he even has a chance to set down the bags and the boy laughs.

“Happy?” he asks and you nod before pulling back and kissing him as hard as you can.

“Why don’t we freshen up and get some dinner?” you offer as you pull away and steve nods with a smile.

“Sounds like a plan” he agrees easily. He didn’t have the money to be spending on dinner but based on the way his stomach rumbled and the smile on your face, he would do it. He doesn’t wanna stand here and sound accusing since everybody does their share of losing, but if he’s gonna lose, he might as well be doing it right.

When you return from the bathroom content and ready to go, you find Steve has already begun to unpack your bags. Grabbing the sweet boy and his hand, you drag him out into the cool night air, illuminated by city lights and the glow of your love for on another. You never would’ve thought approaching the cute guy in the record store would lead you to this. You couldn’t imagine your life without Steve now, there was just something that made sense. You two just worked.

“Could you ever see yourself in the city?” Steve muses, shoving a french fry in his mouth as he watches you from across the table in a small diner.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so” you respond with the shake of your head, eyes glancing over the various customers here on a late night. As much as the city was beautiful there was no community.

“Why’s that?” he questions further and you shrug, eyes cast on your half ate burger.

“As much as it’s exciting, no one knows anybody here. They’re all strangers and in a way it’s really lonely. When I go somewhere in Hawkins I know everybody. I like having those relationships. Makes me feel like I belong. I don’t think anyone could ever really belong to a city” you finally tell him, eyes shining into his own and Steve smiles.

“Same, even with all the bad things that have happened in Hawkins over the years I couldn’t really see myself leaving everyone, especially the kids” Steve tells you, hand running through his hair and you grin when one strand falls right back into place, stubborn as ever.

“King Steve hasn’t dreamed of living somewhere grander?” you tease and Steve rolls his eyes at the nickname you know he hates. You use it anyway, knowing with you he’d never have a chance to mind.

“Just with you” he answers simply, stunning you silent and you can’t help the cheesy grin that crosses your face.

“Steve Harrington would move out of his parents big luxurious house to just to bum it with a girl” you say but Steve’s stare never falters, eyes locked into your own as he tries to convey every emotion he’s ever had towards you.

“Not just any girl, you” he smiles, voice just barely above a whisper, and you have to glance away from the intensity of his stare. Your cheeks burn pink, reiterating the nickname he had gifted you all that time ago.

“I’m nothing special” you say with the shake of your head, hands reaching to tuck some hair behind your ears. Steve sighs, eyes glancing along the neon lights of the small diner, taking in the smell of grease heavy in the air, and the buzz of the milkshake machine.

“Rosy, before you I never thought I’d be happy again. That I was just one of those guys who peaked in high school and never really found anyone who would love him. Then on a particularly sad day when I wanted to feel close to my Grandpa, I ended up finding you” he tells you earnestly and finally you lift your eyes to meet his own again, a smile covering your face.

“You think it was fate?” you grin, hand reaching across the table to meet his own and Steve just smiles back, thumb brushing over your knuckles.

“Maybe but that day I told you my Grandpas favorite Billy Joel song was the one that described how he felt about my Grandmother and how the right women could turn you around and heal you when you least expect it. You did that to me Rosy, you healed me” he says and the seriousness in his eyes only furthers his point. Your heart is hammering in your chest because you had been waiting a year for Steve to tell you he loves you and this is the closest you had ever gotten. You knew that he did but sometimes it was all you wanted.

“So I’ve got the way?” you ask and Steve smiles, lifting your hand to his lips. Pressing a slow and soft kiss to your knuckles.

“You got more than that baby, you got my whole heart” he tells you and you quickly let go of his hand, rushing over to his side of the booth and practically landing in his lap.

“I’m not hungry anymore, let’s go back to the hotel” you tell him and he laughs, eyes crinkling as he does and you have the urge to kiss him now more than ever.

“Now someone is finally coming around to spending time in bed” he telased you, finger poking into your side, and you roll your eyes as he pulls some cash out of his wallet.

“Whatever, let’s just go” you say, pulling him up and out of the booth to make the short walk back. The city is still just as alive as it was thirty minutes ago and Steve’s confession has made you feel more alive than you’ve ever felt. His pace is swift, eager to be back in the motel, and particularly in bed with you.

“Ooh, postcards!” you grin, eyes catching the new stand that you couldn’t believe was still open this late at night.

“Oh come on, don’t get distracted now” Steve pouts and you can’t help the giggle that escapes past your lips, letting go of his hand to file through the different cards.

“Hey, I promised Dustin I would send one every day we were here” you tell him and Steve shakes his head, arms hooking around your waist as he pulls you close, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Rosy we’re here to three days, barely” he tells you but you’re still just as determined as ever. Loving the kids that came along with being his girlfriend.

“I promised” you pout, finally landing on the one you loved and Steve just chuckles as you pay for it, scribbling a quick message, and sending it off. Preparing to walk away you don’t expect Steve to stop you, hand pulling you back from leaving just quite yet.

“Wait, I gotta write one too” he says, hands grasping a colorful postcard that says ‘Greetings From Indianapolis’.

“For who?” you question but he just hides it, scribbling the pen and address on the card quickly as he hands it to the man behind the stand.

“Don’t worry about it” he tells you and you let it go since you’re desperate to get back to the motel and spend the rest of the weekend with the boy you love.

Which in three days when you return home, you find the postcard amongst your mail with three scribbled words on it.

I love you.

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#superb steve harrington series

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