#tap dancer steve harrington!!

[munsonsreputation]

Dress

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [5.6k]

warnings: no use of y/n, best friends to (secret (kinda)) lovers (brief backstory), cursing, drinking, reader and steve are both twenty, SMUT (minors do not interact or i will dropkick you) kissing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, yall...this is just fiction), multiple orgasms (reader), creampie (like I said...use protection), annnnnd aftercare <3

summary: everyone knew you and steve as being the best of friends...though they had their suspicions of something more happening between you two. however at hopper and joyce's wedding everything seems to be exposed, or at least that's what they think. at the end of the day, the only people that truly knew what was going on between you and steve, were you and steve...and the dress you bought for him to take off.

Across the room, his eyes were dead set on your figure—the wine glass you’d been carrying now halfway empty. All of your weight rested on one leg, allowing the opposite hip to be jutted out so exquisitely that your thigh peeked out through the high slit. Your hair fell effortlessly down the expanse of your back in free waves.

“So you and Steve?”

The woman you were talking to was a complete stranger, just a friend of Joyce’s that she invited for the wedding. She must have known who you were, or at least Steve, because when she asked the question, she looked over at him, instantly tracking him in the crowded room.

Your eyes wandered ever so coolly, bluffing like you couldn’t feel him gawking at you in your peripheral for most of the night.

It was offensive how good Steve looked in a tuxedo getup. It had you wishing more people in Hawkins invited you two to their wedding just so you could have an excuse to see him in this attire again. Not that his classic polo and khaki pants didn’t do it for you, but this was a nice change for once.

“We’re just friends.” You waved off, separating your eyes from him despite your urges to continue eye fucking him for the rest of the night.

She laughed, her own hand reaching forward to rest on your wrist where she gripped too tightly for your liking. “I heard Jonathan’s girlfriend Nancy used to date him?”

“It’s true.” You confirmed, peeking over to the dance floor where a very intoxicated Nancy was having the time of her life with Jonathan who looked to be just as wasted, dancing to the beat of the music.

“Jonny is a sweet boy, but Steve is just...wow.” She purred lowly, turning her head towards Steve who did his best to play it off like he wasn’t ogling at you. Coughing awkwardly into his elbow and turning away instantly as you held back a smirk and turned your attention back to the older woman.

“If I was still twenty, I would love me a piece of Steve Harring—“

“More wine?”

The stranger quickly shut her mouth as Steve popped up out of nowhere, suddenly holding the wine bottle in his hand as you grinned sneakily your hand holding out the glass for him to fill though there was still burgundy in there.

“What were you ladies talking about?” Steve sing-songed, the soft glug glug glug subduing the music as the lady blushed, turning away as you did your best to hide your amusement.

Steve bit his lip, staring as you eyed him up and down. “You’re always the talk of the town, Harrington.”

He snickered, shaking his head, “Nothing bad, I hope.”

You pouted with a not so believable innocent faced as you drew an x over your chest, “Cross my heart.”

Steve snickered at your hilarity, paying no mind to the woman beside you other than blindlessly filling up her glass with more alcohol.

“It’s nice to meet you Steven, my name is—“

You perked up at the swift song change, synth permeating the air as everyone hooted around and more dancers filled the floor. Steve turned to you, planting down the wine bottle and holding out his hand.

“Would you mind holding this?” You rose your brow towards the lady, your lips sheathing around the cusp of the wineglass, and lifting it, taking one last sip before sticking it in her free hand.

You gulped the bitter, looking back at Steve, then back at the lady with a calculated grin glued on your face because you wanted to add salt to her poor middle-aged wound.

“This is my boyfriend and I’s favorite song.”

The look on her face was priceless. Eyes wide and mouth held agape like you lied to her, which you totally did, but you had no care. Just simply twirling around and letting Steve draw you to the dance floor.

“You called me your boyfriend.” Steve’s voice filled with surprise and contentment, whispering the words in your ear while you moved your body against his.

You wiggled your shoulders, leaving kisses up his neck and murmuring in his ear, “Would you rather me refer to you as the guy I’m sleeping with?”

He shivered at your articulation and touch upon his skin, beaming at you and shaking his head. Steve was more than delighted to be called your boyfriend, even if that meant that your not so secret love affair was finally revealed.

But it wasn’t as if people didn’t know you and Steve were together.

Everyone knew you were together.

You two were just too blind to see that everyone knew.

The chemistry you and Steve shared was out of this world. Maybe it was because you two were best friends before you both decided to pursue something further.

But you and Steve both knew that you didn’t want each other merely as best friends. There was always something more lingering between the two of you.

Steve had met you long ago, back in middle school when you had moved to Hawkins. You were seated beside him in social studies, back when he had a buzz cut and you had experimentally bleached hair, or at least pieces of it after seeing it in magazines and wanted to strut into eighth grade with a cool look.

Friends to Best Friends is something that instantaneously took place between the two of you. But so did the mutual pining. Years of seeing each other jump in and out of relationships and double dates throughout high school was agonizing.

He’d listen to you complain about your incompetent partners and you’d never hear the end of his famous “you deserve better” or “I’ll kick their ass” lectures.

And of course you’d listen to him go on about how badly his dates went and how he was trying to find someone to really settle down with.

Both of you knowing and wanting one another, but just being too petrified to ruin the perfectly established and strong friendship you already had.

But like all the good things to come, you both had to be patient with time. It wasn’t until the two of you graduated that you decided to give the relationship thing a try.

“Why are people staring so hard?” He suspected, eyes floating around the banquet hall to see some guests and his friends closely watching your every move.

You humphed cluelessly, lifting his hand and intertwining yours together as you danced, “They think they know everything…like we really are just best friends.”

It wasn’t like you and Steve didn’t want people to know you were together. But it was just nicer keeping everything private. Him knowing he could come home to you. And you knowing you could come home to him.

An intimate comfort that was sailing right under everyone’s noses, just for you two to keep.

But holding back from each other was hard.

Pretending that you and Steve were stuck in traffic, which is why you were late to game night, when, in fact, you two got caught up having sex.

Or having to bite your tongue when Robin would ask Steve about any hot babes he was seeing.

And Eddie teasing you about how flirtatious the server was being when Steve just wanted to intervene and tell the son of a bitch to back off.

Self-control and lying is something you and Steve had thought you were good at—essentially keeping your relationship a secret, but they all caught on immediately.

Dustin and the boys noticing your car in Steve’s driveway at late hours of the night.

And Max and El questioning you about the hickey on your neck when you dropped them off at the arcade.

Evidently, with the younger teens conspiring it was only a while before the older teens found out and began their own discoveries.

Jonathan and Nancy, seeing the two of you sat in the theaters, snuggled up after you both had told them you would be working that night.

Eddie and Robin stumbling across a polaroid photo of the two of you kissing inside Steve’s glove box.

And even the adults, Hopper and Joyce, catching the two of you having dinner at Enzo’s to celebrate your three-month anniversary.

Everyone knew, but no one said a word.

“Henderson looks like he’s about to explode.” You stiffed your laugh with a smile, moving your eyes away from the curly-headed boy being shaken by Lucas and Mike as he glared.

Steve chortled, shaking his head at the young boy and mouthing a sorry, “He probably feels betrayed his favorite babysitter has been keeping his girl a secret.”

“Robin and Eddie don’t seem too surprised.” You tilted your chin to them, their shining figures gawking at you two as you stuck your tongue out at them, earning a laugh.

By now, ABBA had died down, and a slow song had replaced the synth. Bodies moving deliberately as the lights dimmed down and only couples were left on the dance floor.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Steve began, his lips ghosting upon your ear and he squeezed your waist, “You in this dress should be a crime.”

You blushed, your face nuzzling itself into his neck as you followed his lead, your hips rocking to the direction of his hands, “I told you…I only bought it so you could take it off.”

The air was thick, like it was just you and him in the room. The sexual tension lingering between the both of you was almost painful to try to hold back from, and so Steve spoke, one of his hands trailing up your spine and to the back of your neck, bringing your face away to meet him.

“Let’s get out of here.”

His voice dripped with seduction, his pupils blown wide as he stared intensely into your orbs. Though the lights were dimmed, he had memorized every feature and its curve on your body. You looked enticing, the kind that made him want to worship your body in private, like he knew how to.

“Please.” You replied, unwrapping your arms from his neck, and hooking them around his biceps and allowing him to lead you away from the dancing.

His other arm covered the small of your back, closing the distance between the both of you, desperately wanting you close to him. Your heels clicked against the floors, strolling past your friends and firing them a smile while you and Steve passed, accompanied by their whistles and Nancy and Robin blowing your kisses.

“Congratulations, again.” Steve congratulated, withdrawing his arm from your waistline and propping it up on Hop’s shoulder.

The newly wed couple stood at the double doors of the banquet hall, getting some of their photos taken as you greeted them adieu.

“Leaving so soon?” Joyce sought, resting a heartening hand on your shoulder and squeezing, and you smiled at her.

“Steve and I are gonna get some rest in the hotel room, but we’ll still be up bright and early tomorrow for breakfast at the cafe.” You reassured her of the plans that were already made and she smiled, kissing your cheek then doing the same to Steve.

“Don’t have too much fun now.” The older man badgered, patting Steve on his back and ruffling your hair as you giggled and nodded.

“Night Mr. and Mrs. Hopper.” Steve bowed, draping his arm back around your back as they waved goodnight, watching you two walk out of the doors and promptly adverting their eyes to the others who were giggling and whispering to themselves.

And of course, the second you and Steve were out of sight from everyone, your lips connected frantically. Stumbling into the elevator and him only drawing away for a millisecond to make sure he was clicking the right floor number before you dragged him back to you again.

Fingertips skimmed and squeezing parts of each other’s body, yearning for the electrifying touch that always got one another going a thousand miles over the limit. The only thing that tore them apart was the ding that came from the elevator, the doors opening as they arrived on their respective floor.

Steve wasted no time hoisting you up with ease, followed by your squeal as he smacked your butt. He was swift and smooth, reaching his hand into his pant pocket for the room key and unlocking the door. Kicking it shut and twisting the lock, he made his way over to the bed, placing you down at the foot of it.

The moonlight slithered past the curtains, illuminating your body before him. You leaned up on your elbows, uncrossing your legs and inching them open, wider, wider, and wider, until Steve finally fitted himself between you, trapping himself as you locked your legs around him.

His palms came down on the cushion, the soft cotton sheets upon his skin, leaning down, hovering over you, face fitting perfectly against yours.

“No more games.” He murmured sternly, his lips brushing along your jaw and you huffed out a laugh, playing coy.

“What’re you talking about?”

You were bullshitting him. You knew exactly what he was talking about.

The entire night you were playing games with him, knowing he couldn’t do anything but bite his lip and watch.

Watching you rock your hips back and forth to the beat of the music.

Watching you strike a pose every time the photographer would approach you for pictures.

Just anticipating to finally get his hands on you like this very moment.

“Stop wasting time, Steven.” You grumbled, shuffling your face closer to his and sighing as he finally connected your lips back together.

This time, his hands withdrew from the bed, instead smoothing down your exposed thighs and sweeping the fabric of your dress back, giving him more access to you. The firmness pressed into your clothed center gave you affirmation that Steve was more than ready to take you, to make you his as you did the same to him.

Your legs tightened around back, pulling him closer and your hands gripped and tugged on his suit jacket, prompting him to pull his hands away from you and shrug the coat off. Your lips moved in tandem with each other as you two made quick work of getting rid of each other’s clothes.

Your fingers skimmed against the buttons of his shirt, exposing his skin to the cool air and hands caressing your back as he unzipped the dress.

Steve pulled away from the kiss, inciting a wail to leave your lips, craving nothing more than to mesh your bodies together for eternity. He laughed at your neediness, but never in a bad way. He was just always astounded at how deeply you wanted him. How you always craved to have his touch.

“Fucking beautiful.” He spoke more so to himself, his tender palms peeling the dress off your shoulders and down the rest of your body, leaving it to fall to the floor right beside his feet.

Your heels were still on, those damn things that made your legs look even better, and made Steve even more of a feral man the more he kept watching you the entire night.

You’d never get acquainted to his skill, the way his hands would scroll over your body, burning your skin with electrifying touches that made you want more.

Rolling your head back with a deep breath leaving you, he squeezed your breasts in his hands, chuckling at the way you instantly fell deeper into the bed. “Don’t make me wait, please.”

Begging usually worked with most guys, but Steve…oh that man hated when he made you feel like you had to beg.

He’d give you anything if you’d ask.

Sure, sometimes begging was a fun little game the two of you liked to play in bed every once in a while.

But he loved to please you, do anything to get you off and give you the pleasure you so rightfully deserved.

You cried out a complaint as he reached back and undid your legs from around his body, but immediately shifted into a whistle when he shrugged off the button down you had loosened. His nimble hands worked his belt undone and through the loops, his eyes wandering up to meet yours before speaking.

“Teasing me all night with no bra on.”

You looked down at your exposed chest and shrugged innocently. “Couldn’t wear it with the dress.”

He tsked, nodding his head as he unzipped his pants, kicking out of his shoes first before leaving his legs bare. He was instantly back in between your still spread legs, working your heels off of your feet, tossing them a little gently off to the side of the room.

His knees made contact with the bed, hoisting you up onto the mattress with your lips kissing all over his bare skin until you sensed the cushioned headboard above you.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” Steve spoke low, stretching your face away from his chest and pushing a kiss to your lips before tearing away.

Your hips jutted up, pressing against his covered crotch, making the two of you moan just before Steve pushed your body back down. “C’mon, tell me, baby.”

“Want you to touch me.” You hissed softly, head thrown back against the pillows, feeling his fingers dance along the waistband of your underwear, fiddling with the flimsy fabric but never daring to drag them off your body.

His breath fanned over your stomach where he pressed pecks along the skin until he just barely ghosted his lips over the front of your panties. “Won’t make you beg tonight, honey…just want you to be a little more specific.”

Your second attempt at jutting your hips up to where you needed him was unsuccessful. His firm grip holding your body into the bed with nowhere to go.

“M-mouth, want your mouth, please.”

In a blink of an eye, your panties were abandoned somewhere in the room and Steve found his place between your legs, his large hands splayed on your inner thighs as he spread you open. Your fingers urgently tangling in his hair, nudging him closer as his tongue lapped at you as if he was parched.

“B-baby, oh my god, just like—right there!”

Curses, whines, and a mixture of moans tore from your throat, the noises from your sinful mouth echoing off the walls and traveling straight to Steve member, getting him incredibly harder by the second.

His hum of approval against your sensitive core only made you louder, your fingers breaking away from his hair and instead twisting into the bedsheets, using it as leverage as you withered beneath him. His tongue was ruthless, never moving slower or picking up the pace too quickly. Steve always knew what would set you off, his eyes trailing from your tits to your face, observing you slowly being to unravel.

“S-steve, I’m gonna cum…p-please.” Your eyes were shut tight, rib cage heaving up and down and the lightness consuming all your senses until Steve spoke against you, “Cum, baby.”

His mouth enclosing around your bundle of nerves combined with the squeeze he gave your thighs led you to your first release of the night. A sob leaving your mouth as you caught your breath and gradually came back with cloudy eyes, Steve’s mouth smoothly leaving your core and kissing the inside of your thighs as he ran his hands over your midsection.

“Good?” He proposed cheekily, sitting up with his lips and the skin around his mouth covered in your essence, glimmering in the pale moonlight.

You swallowed, the dryness in your throat washing away and you nodded, leaning up on your elbows and pressing your face forward. “Amazing.”

He met you halfway, relaxing his forehead on yours and nudging your noses together. “Want a taste?”

You could feel the fire starting up inside you again, chewing your lip with a hum until you let the skin go, granting him to kiss you passionately. The blend of your sweetness and his mouth washing over you like the most decadent honey until he tore away, a string of saliva darting between your pair of lips.

“Please, fuck me, Steve…been waiting all night.”

You were able to roll your hips this time, right up against his crotch, being able to feel every vein and ridge despite him still being covered. You knew your man like the back of your hand. Had every inch of him memorized.

He kissed you once more before sliding away. His feet planted back to the ground, removing his boxers until he made his way back up to you.

Immediately, your hands reached for his cock—achingly hard and pleading to be inside of you. Your eyes flickered to his orbs as you stroked him lazily, your thumb brushing over his sensitive slit, smearing the pre-cum in circles, only making his own sequence of obscenities fly out of his mouth until he jerked his eyes open, shuddering away the nerves.

“Gonna make me blow my load before I get inside of you.” He swung his head, enclosing his hand around your wrist to pull you away from his length.

You smirked, prompting the hand up to your mouth, sucking his pre-cum off your thumb and toying the tip of it with your tongue. Teasing him and walking the thin line of him absolutely railing you.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it, baby.”

He reached down, guiding his length up and down your core, nudging your clit and getting you to fall back. Just how he wanted it. It was only seconds before he pressed the tip into you, working himself deeper and deeper as your mewls and moans got louder and louder.

The two of you bound up in each other with your arms hung around his neck, nuzzling your face in his neck. And him, balls deep inside of you, feeling your walls contract around him with every shallow thrust he urged towards you, working you open and getting used to his sheer size.

“You f-feel soooo good,�� He grunted, his hips moving quicker, leaving just the tip inside of you before crashing back in, lingering there just long enough to feel you tighten around him, then repeating the action all over again.

You were panting, nails leaving crescent-moon impressions all over his shoulders and back, letting your hands roam his body, “So deep, baby…fuck! Feels t-too good.”

The rapid pace had you seeing stars, prompting you to unwrap your hands from his body, allowing your arms to flare out on the bed, finding purchase on the fabric beneath you. He was in your sight, dead center, the haziness enveloping him as he cooed down at you, his grip on your legs leaving to cradle your face.

“I know what you need baby—so fuckin’ tight…know you want to cum. I can feel it, sweetheart.”

His tone wasn’t supposed to be condescending in any way, in fact it was tender. But the way the words left his mouth…oh, it got you going. It had the knot in your belly pulling and stiffening as he spoke so highly of his expertise. Knowing that you knew that he knew just want you desired, because he always did. You couldn’t hold back even if you tried. He knew how to make you feel like you were floating on cloud nine and—

“Oh, my god!”

Your hips raised off the bed, only pressing yourself further onto his length. Your legs were shaking under Steve’s touch. And the pulsing around his cock was enough to let him know that you reached your second climax.

His warm laugh filled the room, his hips halted, only letting your aftershock tremble shift against him as you gently settled back down, ragged breaths leaving your mouth and your hands running across your own skin, attempting to come back to Earth.

“So good,” He kissed your knee sweetly,

“Bet that felt nice, huh, baby?” Another kiss, this time right in the center of your chest.

Your eyes began to open, your jaw trembling as you nodded your head, eyes glasses for him as he kissed your forehead, “Be a good girl and give me one more.”

You’d give him however many he wanted.

“Yes, baby.”

He left you for a moment, leaving you an empty and whining mess, but only for a second as he dragged you to the end of the bed. And just like that, he was guiding your legs over his shoulder, pushing himself back inside of you and starting up the same unrelenting pace that had you in pieces just minutes ago.

“There we go, honey.” Steve praised, watching the scene below him. You licking your fingers and bringing them to your clit, rubbing stiff circles as your half-lidded eyes watched him smile proudly, a little sweat beading at his forehead where his baby hairs stuck.

He braced his hands on either side of your head, the new angle sending him deeper, if that was even remotely possible. Steve could tell you were only a moment away from falling apart for him all over again. He prided himself on being able to get you off over and over again with ease, getting you to the point of cock-drunk, just the way you liked it.

Your moans were babbles of slurred words at this point, telling him how good you were feeling and how good he felt inside of you. The words only spurring him closer to his own release, but you always came first. And so when he noted your hand faltering between the two of you, he instantly sprang into action. Bracing himself above you with one arm and his other replacing the rubbing on your clit.

“Come on baby, s-shit, fucking tight, give it to me baby, c’mon, be my good girl, one more.”

Your mouth opened wide with a silent scream, all the thoughts leaving your head as you surrendered and pulsed around him. It took you a few seconds to draw a clear breath in through your nose, your entire body feeling like a magnetic field as Steve’s thrusts began to stammer as he searched for his own release.

Your arms and legs were numb, but you wanted that closeness to Steve despite him already inside of you. Your legs wrapped around his rear, leaving just enough room for him to thrust deeper and deeper.

“D-don’t stop.”

Your arms found his biceps, drawing all his weight down on you, causing him choke out a grunt, alarmed he might be crushing you, but if anything you held him tighter.

His eyes were dead set on you, never daring to miss the way your face contorted with every move he made. Your lipstick was smeared, mascara smudged, and your hair a tangled mess, but you still looked as ethereal as you did before you got here.

His heartbeat was out of control, and only when you moved your shaking hands to his neck, did you feel his pulse beneath your fingertips, “Cum inside of me.”

Pure seduction weaved into your tone, even after your throat was raw from the moans and screams from your previous orgasms. It had him weak.

“I’m going to, baby.” He assured you, pants leaving his mouth, just seconds away from giving you everything.

“Fill me up.” You continued, purring it against his neck, feeling him shudder and whisper out curses under his breath, “Fill me up, Steve.”

“Fuck!”

A sleepy smile plastered on your face feeling every spurt of his cum and twitch of his cock from within you. Steve sank his forehead to your chest, grazing at your boobs and every inch of your skin as he caught his breath, slowly pulling out of you, surveying the mixture of you and him dripping onto the bedsheets.

“You’re fucking divine, you know that?” He puffed, palms resting on his hips, watching you turn on your side, eyes drifting close as you mumbled.

“I’m gonna wear that dress every day if you keep fucking me like that.” You added, causing the two of you to laugh, and Steve shook his head.

His palms ran up and down your legs, working them to feel some sort of relaxation as your shaking began to die down, “Gonna get a bath started, then bed.”

You nodded, eyes still closed, feeling his weight come off the bed, “I love you, Stevie.”

“I love you too, baby.” He replied, shuffling towards your side of the bed and leaving a passionate smooch on your lips before he headed towards the bathroom where the water began to run.

You had contemplated it multiple times…going back in time to act upon your feelings for Steve sooner, getting to have more moments like this and memories together. But in hindsight, the pinning and anticipation that grew between you and Steve made your love for each other sweeter.

It made you appreciate one another a little more. Learning to take your time and savor every touch and kiss you got to share. Reminding yourselves that you two both waited and longed for one another, which meant that you sure would have to learn how to love each other the way you each preferred.

You two acted upon your feelings at the right time.

Not too soon and not too late.

And so now you got to wake up every next to Steve and fall asleep right beside him every night. No matter where you were, the indentation in the bed always belong to Steve.

Your one and only.

Your lifeline.

And Steve, he was grateful for the same reasons and others as well.

You always saw something in him, even way before you two were an official couple. Back when you were just best friends, you saw the truth in him despite all his horrible attempts at trying to mask it with lies. And you definitely saw the best in him, even when he felt like others didn’t and even himself.

You were his one and only.

His lifeline.

“Stevieeeeeee.” You giggled, sloshing the bubbly water around the tub while he worked his fingertips through your scalp, massaging the shampoo into a lather.

“I told you no getting wine drunk in the bathtub!” Steve pretended to chide, seeing you reach for the wineglass and take another sip of the burgundy you had found in the mini fridge.

You laughed, catching his reflection in the glass, him looking laser concentrated at ensuring your hair was getting washed.

“Want a sip?” You suggested, turning back slightly to hold the glass up to his lips.

He nodded, fingers never withdrawing from your head as he wrapped his lips around the curve of the glass and you tipped it forward, enough for him to get his serving only before pouring it a little too much as it spilt past his lips and into the tub.

He grumbled, swinging his head as you were now a giggling, woozy mess, moving down to place the glass back on the floor as you continued to shriek at the red dripping down his chin.

Steve couldn’t pretend to be annoyed, just cracking his own smile and pulling his hands from your scalp, rinsing them in the water before wiping his mouth clean.

“You’re drunk.” He bopped your nose, smirking as you beamed back at him with a guilty face.

“Tipsy.” You corrected, only before turning your entire body to face him, not caring if the water was spilling outside of the tub, “Kiss?”

“Of course, baby.” He laughed, pressing his lips to yours, not drawing away until you did with a bemused smile on your face.

“Do you think the officiant is still going to be in town tomorrow?” You sought curiously, twirling a strand of his damp hair between your fingers.

Steve furrowed his brows and shrugged, “I’m not too sure…why?”

You bit your lip, pressing your cheek to your shoulder. “We could get married.”

He snickered, nodding his head at the thought of getting hitched to the love of his life on a random Sunda morning, it was so on brand for the two of you, yet it would be better to wait until you were fully sober to talk about it.

“I’d love to marry you, sweetheart, but let’s wash your hair first. Then we can talk about marriage alllll morning tomorrow.”

You beamed like you had won the lottery, frantically nodding your head as you kissed him once more, and got back into the position letting him finish washing your hair and then falling asleep in one another’s arms.

The mark that you and Steve left on each other, whether it’d be literal or figuratively, was something that neither of you could ever try to hide or replicate. It was like a golden tattoo that the two of you had inked on your skin. Something so rare yet fragile—worth so much, but just for the both of you to have.

Everything about you two was inescapable. Not worth trying to run from or trying to disguise.

So maybe at the end of the day, people knew about you and Steve.

But they didn’t know everything.

Not about how you two had carved your initials on his bedpost to mark your relationship.

Not the secret moments you two shared in crowded rooms with no suspicion.

Not the fact that you didn’t want each other as just best friends.

And definitely not that you only bought that dress so he could take it off.

A/N: UMMMMM first off...thanks to taylor for writing this sinful masterpiece that will forever have a chokehold on me. this song is soooo steve coded i just had to indulge and write this. speaking of, this is my first ever attempt at writing smut so please let me know how i did...i couldn't stop laughing cause i suck at explaining shit like this 😭😭😭 anyways, reblogs, likes, tags, and comments are greatly appreciated and i hope you all like this 💘✨💌

officially starting a taglist, so inbox me or leave it in the comments if you'd like to be added!!!

taglist: @translatemunson

[sleepy-steve]

(pray) ‘til i go blind

wc: 4k // rating: M // cw: language // tags: modern au, metal burlesque performer eddie munson, audience participant steve harrington, very blasphemous song lyrics (see ao3 link for other tags)

♡ read on ao3 ♡ or below the cut ♡

Steve sees Eddie staring right at him, eyes dark as sin and ringed by even darker makeup. And that beautiful, cheeky smirk in full force as he slowly lowers himself down to a crouch. Steve meets Eddie’s eyes and feels the air disappear from his lungs. He's mesmerised. "And you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye..." He holds a hand out to Steve, and Steve can do nothing else but take it and be pulled up to the stage.

song referenced is Rev 22:20 (Don’t Shoot The Messenger Version) by Puscifer (one of my personal favourite filthy dance songs).

It was one thing to be an audience member. To sit in the crowd and clap or cheer when appropriate. These were all things Steve could do, and if it meant an evening spent with his best friend, he was more than happy to do it. (And if he saw some boobs in the process, he was also happy with that.) 

It was Robin’s absolute insistence that he would enjoy tonight’s burlesque show in particular, despite his general ambivalence toward the production as a whole, that gave him pause. The music didn’t really do anything for him, though he could appreciate the performances. And sure, he liked seeing beautiful women dance as much as the next dude. Why was she so convinced he would like this show more than any other? With no answers to his wondering, he sat comfortably, enjoyed his drinks, and tried to be a model audience member.

What was less in his comfort zone was sitting at a table right up front, basically right under each performer’s nose. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy the view, but he did wonder about how the performers might feel having him gawking from behind his glasses right up at them from such a close distance. Throughout the night, both Steve and Robin are among a few selected for some level of performer interaction. Dancers waving their fluffy feather fans in their faces, tossing clothing garments at them, trailing their hands over arms and shoulders, and in one case, a cute redheaded performer allowing her long satin glove to be shakily pulled off by Robin.

After a brief break, the emcee announces the fifth and final dancer of the evening. Steve finds himself a little disappointed, having had more fun than he originally thought. But he joins the audience in applauding for the next performer.

The stage goes dark. He hears the faint tapping of someone stepping on stage. Slightly different to the previous performers, less snappy. Different shoes. A beat of silence, before a red spotlight flashes on. On the stage, a figure stands with their arms raised and crossed above their head. Curls hang around their shoulders, different to the perfectly pinned and sprayed curls of the previous dancers. This hair is wild.

A beat kicks in. It's heavy and dark, reverberating in the floors. The figure lowers their arms, wrists twisting and gloved fingers snapping on the beat. A female voice sings a harmony and the figure turns in time with it, facing the audience, additional warm spotlights flashing on, and a jolt runs through Steve.

It's a man. Probably one of the most beautiful men he's ever seen. Wearing ripped jeans and what looks to be a leather jacket, the man is running a gloved hand across his chest, touch featherlight. The voice sings again, moaning almost, and the dancer—Eddie, Steve belatedly recalls the emcee introducing him as—slowly pulls the jacket open, revealing a loose black tank top. He runs a hand up his tattooed neck and back down his chest. The audience cheers, a few low whoops coming from the back.

Another moaning vocal. With a cheeky grin that makes Steve's heart skip, Eddie lets the jacket fall down to his elbows, revealing even more tattoos on his shoulders and arms. His gloved hands trail down to his hips, and on the last harmony, he moves his hips back in a slow half-circle.

"Don't be aroused," a male voice croons in the music. "By my confession..."

Eddie looks out at the audience, who are captivated by the way he owns the stage. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Steve notes that Eddie has barely done anything at all, yet the audience is completely transfixed by him. He takes a few slow, confident steps, searching the crowd below him.

"Unless you don't give a good goddamn about redemption..." Standing up tall, Eddie lets his jacket drop to the ground behind him, the audience cheering as he does. The gloves reach to just below his elbow, and the tattoos disappear beneath them. Steve imagines what his hands might look like—how they might feel—the realisation that he's not really thought about another man's hands before quickly shoved to the back of his mind.

"I know Christ is comin', and so am I..." Leaving the jacket behind, Eddie walks again, stopping right in front of Steve and Robin's table. Steve glances at Robin, partially excited and partially fearful, only to see her with a grin that says exactly what he knows she's thinking right now: I was right.

Looking back up, Steve sees Eddie staring right at him, eyes dark as sin and ringed by even darker makeup. And that beautiful, cheeky smirk in full force as he slowly lowers himself down to a crouch, ripped jeans opening further to reveal even more tattoos. Steve meets Eddie’s eyes and feels the air disappear from his lungs. He's mesmerised.

"And you would too if this sexy devil caught your eye..."

He holds a hand out to Steve, and Steve can do nothing else but take it and be pulled up to the stage. The audience cheers—though none louder than Robin—as Steve is guided by Eddie, and led to a chair that he did not see before. As Steve sits facing the audience, Eddie leans down to his ear and whispers, "Is it okay if I touch you?"

Steve looks at him in surprise and nods quickly. This close, Steve can see the two nostril piercings, and the silver ball nestled in the scoop of his cupid bow. It's unbelievably hot.

"Anywhere?" Eddie clarifies, letting his gloved hand run up Steve's arm to his shoulder. Steve nods again, trying hard not to think about what anywhere could mean—what he absolutely wants it to mean. Eddie winks at him, smirk back in place on his plush lips, and moves behind Steve, hands running over his shoulders, down and across his chest. He leans over from behind, wild curls tickling Steve's neck. Wanting to reach out and touch so badly, Steve keeps his hands firmly clasped in his lap, trying to behave. Flicking his hair behind him, Eddie tips Steve’s head gently to the side, exposing his neck. Steve feels warm breath on his skin, and then the drag of teeth and lips along the length of his neck and holy shit. Feeling hot everywhere, Steve takes a shuddering inhale. Sliding his gloved hands off Steve’s head, Eddie walks around again, this time in front of the chair.

He drops, crashing to his knees at the edge of the stage as the music ramps up. "Pray! 'Til I go blind..." The audience cheers as the vocals scream.

"Pray!" Eddie rolls his head, curls flicking around him in a wide arc, long tattooed neck stretched and exposed before his hair settles around him again. "'Cause nobody ever survives..."

Arms crossed over the front of his body, and gripping at the bottom of his tank top—which from this close view, Steve thinks may actually be a cut up band tee—Eddie cocks his head, teasing the audience. Waiting for them to cheer louder. He pulls it up a few inches, no doubt showing off more tattoos on his belly, if the ones on his back were anything to go off. The audience screams, encouraging him to take it off.

"Saviours and saints, devils and heathens alike, she'll eat you alive..."

The music slows back down, and Eddie drops his shirt back down. Steve lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Jesus, since when was he so ramped up about another man taking his shirt off? He doesn't have much time to think about it, because Eddie has turned himself around to face Steve, grin that borders on evil with glee on his face. Steve feels his eyes widen.

"Jesus is risen, it's no surprise..." He drags himself close to Steve, kneeling before him, a hand on each of his knees, pushing Steve's legs open. Steve swallows as the gloved hands trail up and down his thighs, before resting back on his knees.

"Even he would martyr his mama to ride to hell between those thighs..." Eddie leans forward, swinging his hair in a figure-eight, face dangerously close to Steve's crotch, and holy shit, Steve thinks he may lose his entire mind. Leaning back again, Eddie gives him a quick look as if to ask, all good? Steve gives a faint nod. Eddie smiles up at him, a genuine and very sweet smile, before shifting back from Steve, pulling himself up off his calves.

"If I gotta sin to see her again, then I'm gonna lie, lie, lie!" Eddie swings his arms across his body, head swinging and hair flicking in time with the words, in a way that would be almost thrashing were he not so purposeful and smooth with it.

He then lowers himself backward, back arched as the top of his head taps the stage, knees still bent beneath him. Steve faintly thinks it looks uncomfortable, but has no time to ponder on it because Eddie is running those gloved hands up his arched chest, pulling the tank top up and up, showing off his tattooed abdomen. The shirt bunches just below his chest, hands continuing up to glide and grab at his own neck, silver chain gripped and pulled taut at his throat.

"Gladly now please suck me dry..." Steve watches unblinkingly as Eddie opens his mouth, slowly pushing two gloved fingers inside, letting them drag back out over his tongue. Mouth watering at the sight, Steve thinks about what else Eddie’s mouth and tongue might be capable of.

Steve snaps out of it quickly, because Eddie has pulled back up, standing with a thump of his combat boots, stepping to the side of Steve's chair so he's side-on with the audience now. He stands with his right arm outstretched toward Steve and one finger raised on the other hand. Steve notices the smirk back in place.

"Pray! 'Til I go blind..." Eddie shoves the finger into the opening of the glove below his elbow, before pulling it out slowly. He raises two fingers this time.

"Pray! 'Cause nobody ever survives..." He shoves two fingers into the glove opening this time, self satisfied look on his face as the audience screams and cheers. Eddie raises three fingers. Steve thinks he may pass away in the chair.

"Prayin' to stay in her arms just until I can die a little longer..." He shoves the three fingers into the glove, using them to push down the leather in time with the music. When the glove is mostly bunched around his wrist, Eddie pulls at the middle finger, dragging the fabric off of his hand slowly, letting it stretch back out. Once it leaves his hand, he flicks it off into the audience to wild cheers, just in time for the music to slow down again.

Eddie turns to Steve now, a look of absolute mischief on his face. With his now bare hand—Steve was right, the tattoos do continue all the way down to his hands—he pulls lightly at the middle finger of the other glove, loosening it slightly. He then leans forward, bending at the hips with a sinful smile, hand held aloft near Steve's mouth, and says, "Bite it."

Steve leans in, taking the fingertip of the leather glove between his teeth and slowly pulls back. The glove barely shifts, Eddie’s hand pulled close to Steve's face.

"My pulse has been rising, my temples are pounding..." Eddie pulls back slightly, jerking his arm softly but acting as though it's taking much more effort. He runs his free hand up his chest, to his neck, as though the act of having his glove pulled off is turning him on.

"The pressure is so overwhelming and building..." The music is starting to build up again, Eddie’s movements growing more erratic along with it. He pulls and pulls, arm slowly being revealed, mouth hanging open like he's panting and eyes hooded as he looks to the audience, his free hand dragging back down his chest.

As the music reaches its peak again, Eddie lets his hand free of the glove—which swings back down to Steve's sweater with a soft tap—chest heaving with the false exertion of it. Steve is stunned, glove fingertip still between his teeth, unsure what he's meant to do with it, and unsure why this is one of the hottest things he's ever participated in.

Eddie now faces the audience, looking down, back up at them, and down again. His hand is at his jeans, teasingly pulling at the fly, his other hand raised to his ear, as though he can't hear the deafening cheers of the audience. When they've reached a loud enough volume to satisfy him, he yanks open the button and zipper, letting the denim hang open. It's not until Eddie turns back to Steve that he sees the black lace now revealed beneath the denim. It sends a bolt of electricity through Steve, jaw dropped slightly, glove now in his lap.

With another cheeky grin, Eddie turns, Steve realising quickly what the man intends. He shoves the glove into his own jeans pocket just as Eddie settles himself on Steve's lap, back against Steve's chest. Grabbing Steve's hands, he settles them on his hips, head hanging back over Steve's shoulder, lips dangerously close to Steve's neck. As Eddie runs his hands up his own chest, pulling at the shirt again, Steve's breath hitches in his throat, and he could swear Eddie is holding back a laugh.

The music is wild as Eddie pulls his shirt higher, body rolling slowly against Steve's, his ass pressing into Steve's crotch with each roll. Eddie sits up slightly, giving just enough space to pull the loose tank over his head, finally revealing the rest of his tattooed chest—and fuck, the guy is covered from the neck down it looks like—and more importantly, a lacy black bra. Steve tries not to grip any tighter to Eddie’s hips as he flings the shirt into the audience.

Laying back down to Steve's chest, he grabs Steve's hands and guides them up, letting them run over his hot skin, fingers trailing over the man’s ribs, up to the lacy black bra. Feeling the smooth metal of Eddie’s nipple piercings makes Steve feel hot all over, not at all helped by the man's fluid body rolls against him. Eddie continues to move his hands though, finally guiding Steve's fingers to the little clasp at the centre of his chest. With trembling fingers, Steve fiddles with the clasp until it comes undone. Continuing the rolls and not-so fake panting—now that it's right by Steve’s ear, he can hear the little huffs of breath—Eddie keeps a grasp on Steve's wrists, keeping Steve's hands firmly over his chest.

The music begins to fade, and Eddie releases Steve's hands, standing up quickly. The open lace bra slips down to his hands, to uproarious applause and cheering from the audience. Eddie pulls at the straps and slingshots it into the audience with a clear laugh that Steve can hear from his chair. The music has stopped, and the crowd continues their cheering. Eddie takes a deep bow, then stands with devil horns raised on both hands.

He turns to Steve with that same genuine smile from earlier in the show, taking his hand and pulling him up to standing. Eddie gestures to Steve with both arms outstretched, as though showcasing him. The audience continues their cheers, and Steve's face grows so hot, he's surprised his glasses haven't started fogging up.

All too soon, the emcee is thanking everyone for coming to the show and Eddie is taking Steve's hand to help him off the stage with another wink and cheeky smile. Steve only says a very quiet "thank you" before Eddie has released his hand and started walking off backstage.

Then Robin is all over him, chattering excitedly about how cool the whole thing was and that she tried to film as much of it as she could but she thinks she might have missed some because she was so into the performance that her phone fell away from them.

"See?! I told you that you'd love this!" She laughs, grabbing his arms. Steve is still a bit starstruck, but Robin misreads it. "Hey, are you good? Was it too much for you?"

"No, no, Robs, it was great," Steve says, a little sadly. "I'm just, uh. Never gonna see him again, am I?"

"Who? Eddie?" Robin asks.

Steve only gives her a sheepish look, embarrassed to have even admitted his fear of not seeing Eddie again.

Raising a brow at him, Robin looks pointedly down at his pants. "Uh, you might just, Stevie." Steve follows her gaze with a frown.

He still has the leather glove in his pocket.

Steve looks back to her, wide eyed with nerves. Robin just snorts at him, patting him on the arm. “Come on, dingus. Let’s grab another drink, maybe your new friend will come looking for his glove.”

They settle in at the bar, Robin laughing as she makes Steve watch the video of him on stage, looking flustered as hell. His face burns with more embarrassment, but she asserts how proud she is of him for doing something like this. With another drink in his system, he’s able to find the humour in it. If nothing else, it’s a crazy story he’ll get to tell his friends about.

A low husky voice in Steve’s ear makes him jump. “I believe you have something of mine, sweetheart.”

Steve turns on his barstool to see Eddie standing behind him, shirt back on and jeans buttoned back up. Most of the eye makeup is gone, but smudges of black still line his lashes, making his dark eyes seem even bigger. From his periphery, he notices that Robin has dutifully stayed facing the bar. Pulling the glove out of his pocket, he bashfully hands it over. “Uh, sorry about that,” Steve says, other hand going to the back of his neck. “I think I just panicked about what to do with it.”

Eddie takes it back with a smile, shoving it into his own pocket. “No problem, at least you didn’t try to take off with it. You wouldn’t believe the amount of clothes I lose to audience theft.”

“I can imagine,” Steve laughs.

“Yeah, I mean, the staff do a great job at collecting my things from the audience, but some people are sneaky, y’know?” Eddie kind of rambles a bit, hands twirling and gesturing with his words. It’s super cute, Steve realises, a grin growing on his face as he forgets to actually respond.

Humming, Eddie nods, probably thrown by Steve’s lack of response. “So! Did you have fun? I’ve been told I can go a little… overboard, sometimes.”

Steve chuckles nervously, hand automatically brushing through his hair. “Not overboard at all, but it was my first time doing anything like that. Definitely had, uh, a good time.” He can feel his cheeks heating again.

The charming persona comes over Eddie again, as he leans in with a smirk. “Well, you were a great audience participant,” he says, like it’s a secret he’s sharing. Steve can see a very faint dusting of freckles across Eddie’s nose and Christ, could this guy get any hotter?

Smile growing bigger and cheeks growing hotter, Steve just manages a quiet “thanks” and what the hell?! Steve knows how to flirt, he knows how to respond when he’s being flirted with. But something about Eddie, with his tattoos and his piercings and his cheeky smiles… it’s all just turning Steve into a puddle. The silence stretches between them, growing almost awkward, as they look at each other. From his side, Steve can sense Robin practically vibrating next to him. He can only imagine that she’s losing her mind over the tension between them. Or his stupidity. Maybe both.

Playing with his hair—pulling slightly on a curl by his shoulder—Eddie clears his throat. “Well, I, uh. Better get back to the, y’know. Packing up. Backstage.” He scratches at the back of his neck. “Um, it was lovely to meet you…?”

Steve blinks at the sudden change in conversation. “Steve!” He says, feeling slightly panicked. He holds his hand out and immediately thinks he must look like a massive idiot.

Eddie smiles at him, almost… resigned? “Eddie,” he says, gesturing to himself before taking Steve’s hand. “Lovely to meet you… Steve.” Eddie says his name like it’s fucking reverent. Steve feels his soul about to leave his body.

“You too,” Steve says, not wanting to let go. They finally let their hands fall away, Eddie taking two slow steps backwards—eyes still locked on Steve’s—before turning. Robin immediately jabs Steve in the ribs with her sharp elbow, making him gasp in pain.

“Unless!” Steve calls out, not even completely sure where he’s going with it.

Eddie looks over his shoulder, not quite turning back to him. “Unless…?”

“Would you, uh, like a drink, maybe?” God, even Steve can hear how pathetic he sounds.

With a grin that’s… actually quite shy, Eddie pulls a lock of his hair across his face. “Yeah… I’d like that,” he says, voice soft.

Steve goes home with Eddie’s number in his phone and a date planned for the next night.

immediately post-show, backstage:

Eddie flies into the dressing room and dramatically flops down across the beat up old armchair with a sigh.

“Great show tonight, Eddie!” Vickie is sitting at the mirror, all her belongings packed up. “The audience was going crazy!”

Letting out a hum that turns into a groan, Eddie rests his forearm over his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, turning to him on her stool.

“Vickieeee…” Eddie whines. “My beloved Victoria—”

“Not my name.”

“I’m in love!” Eddie cries, letting his head hang back over the armrest.

Vickie snorts. “God, dare I ask with whom?”

Eddie whines again, a loud moan coming from deep in his soul. He sighs again. “Soft swoopy hair… big, beautiful hazel eyes and glasses… moles like a constellation on his skin… Vickie, he can’t be real. He just can’t be. No one should look that good in a yellow sweater.”

“Yellow…?” Vickie trails off before gasping and leaping to the floor by Eddie’s head. “Your audience participant?! No. Eddie. Edward. Say it isn’t so!”

Holding both hands over his face, Eddie lets out another wallowing moan, before opening his fingers to reveal one eye. “I… bit him.”

Gasping, Vickie slaps the floor with both hands. “You didn’t!”

“I did!” Eddie wails, covering his face again.

“Oh my god!” Vickie laughs.

“Hey, Eddie.” Gareth walks in, holding a small bundle of black fabric. “Great show tonight. We got almost everything back, but we’re missing… one glove. Sorry, man.”

“Thanks, Gareth,” Eddie says miserably. Gareth drops the pile of clothes on the armchair and heads back out with a two-finger salute.

Vickie turns to him with light in her eyes. “Eddie, Eddie, look at me.” She shakes his arm until he turns his forlorn gaze to her. “Mister Yellow Sweater has your glove.” 

Eddie just looks at her, his brain processing too slowly.

“Go!” she cries, pulling him up. “Go and find him, he’s probably still here!”

“What? No!” Eddie lets himself go limp and heavy against her pulls. “Just leave me to my yearning for what will never be.”

“Eddie, I swear to god,” she says with effort, finally pulling him up. “Get out there and find your man. And your glove.”

Groaning loudly, Eddie stands up and finds his shirt in the pile. “Fine. If only to get my glove back, I’ll go and find Mister Perfect Hair.”

[katsu28]

🍭 lollipop -26. “Just breathe. Like that. That’s it” from List 4 with steve pls?? ty<3

i combined this one with another request—"relax, i've got you." because i thought they went pretty hand in hand with each other, i hope that's okay! ty for requesting! <3

dad!steve harrington x pregnant!reader, mentions of pain and pregnancy symptoms, 1.3k

Being pregnant was proving to be one of the hardest things in your life. You’d had enough dizziness and nausea in your first trimester to last you a lifetime, enough achiness and swollen feet in your second than anyone should ever have, and now in your third, you’d discovered something brand new to put on your list of pregnancy woes.

False labor pains, otherwise known as Braxton-Hicks contractions (as Steve had very quickly informed you after a trip to the library that resulted in a pile of what to expect when you’re expecting-esque books residing next to his side of the bed). Paired with an extremely active baby girl with a horse strength kick who loved to make it known 24/7, this home stretch was your toughest one yet.

The telltale open and shut of the front door signaled Steve’s arrival, even before his voice. “Honey, I’m home!!!” He sang.

You made a vague noise of acknowledgement from your sprawled out position on the couch, waving your hand over your head haphazardly. You’d been stuck in the same spot for almost the whole day, seeing as every time you tried to get up, either another well placed kick or a false contraction dragged you right back down.

“How’re my girls doing?”

“Your daughter’s doing her daily karate routine against my organs, but other than that we’re great.”

“Oh so she’s gonna do karate now? I thought she was gonna be a tap dancer? Or a soccer player?” Steve teased gently, tossing his keys into the bowl on the table near the front door. He kicked his shoes off too, hanging his jacket on the hook next to yours before crossing the room to rub your shoulders with a kiss pressed to the top of your head.

“She can be all of them when she grows up, but I wish she’d stop it right now.”

He let out a snort of laughter, rounding the couch and kneeling in front of you. One hand came to rub your belly gently, the other coming to land on your knee. “Anything I can do for you?”

“Tell her to cut it out.” Another laugh from him. “How was work?”

“Pretty uneventful. Robin says hi though, wanted me to ask if you two were still on for lunch on Tuesday?”

“Oh my god, I totally forgot to call her back!” You gasped, hands scrabbling for purchase on the couch cushions as if you wanted to push yourself up.

“Hey, hey, slow your roll, sweetheart. Take it easy, I’ll give her a call later.” Steve eased you back down, shooting you a pointed look when you pouted up at him. “I promise, ‘mkay?”

“‘Mkay.” You sighed, slumping back into your previous position. Then, barely even taking a beat, you shot up straight again, this time moving to grab Steve’s shoulders as leverage.

His brows furrowed in instant concern. “What? What’s happening now? Are you okay?”

“Gotta pee.”

“Jesus, you really scared me for a second there,” He breathed, pressing a hand against his chest but going to help you up anyways.

The second you made it to your feet, you were hit with another Braxton-Hicks, this one so big that you would’ve keeled over at the strength of it if not for Steve still holding on to you. You squeezed your eyes shut, sinking back down on the couch yet again with a choked whimper. For something called false labor, the pain sure was really goddamn real. “Whoa, okay. Relax, I’ve got you. You’re alright, sweetheart, you’re doing great. Just relax.”

“Tell me to relax one more time and I’m gonna wring your neck, Harrington.” You said through gritted teeth, fisting his shirt in your hand as if it would help you ride out the pain.

Steve ignored your threat, because he knew you didn’t actually mean it. You’d been growing a whole tiny human inside you for the past eight months, the least he could do was stomach a few gripes here and there. “Squeeze my hands. Just squeeze my hands, it’ll help.”

You gladly took him up on the offer, borderline crushing his hands with a strength neither you nor him knew you had, but he’d never complain about it. A popped knuckle and temporary loss of blood flow was nothing compared to what you’d been having to endure nonstop.

Tears welled up in your eyes at the worsening spasm in your back and abdomen, like someone had taken your insides and was twisting them around in their grip.

“Just breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth.” Steve soothed, mimicking the deep breaths he wanted you to take. “Like that, that’s it. There you go. Just like that, baby.”

“This is the cramp from hell, Steve, deep breathing isn’t helping anything.”

“Okay, alright, let’s try something else then. Didn’t the doctor say moving around would help lessen the pain?” He suggested, trying his best to rack his brain despite the numbness creeping through his hands. “Or maybe drink some water? I can get you a glass of—”

“Can you just shut up for a minute?” The sharpness in your words shocked you, and should’ve shocked Steve too, but he didn’t seem phased at all, instead just nodding, gazing up at you with wide honey eyes currently filled with concern.

Guilt pooled in you as soon as the contraction finally subsided, and somehow, the guilt felt worse. Steve had been nothing less than the perfect partner this entire pregnancy, and here you were snapping at him for being supportive. Again.

You inhaled a shaky breath, bringing his hands up and pressing a kiss to each of his palms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Stevie, I don’t mean to be mean to you, I just—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, okay? You can do and say anything you want to me, sweetheart, and you never have to apologize. You’re carrying our kid, you’ve got every right to be as mean as you want.” He assured you, cupping your face. His thumbs stroked across your cheeks featherlight despite the firmness in his grip. “I’m a big boy, I can take it. Never be sorry. You don’t have to be.”

“I love you,” You sighed miserably, melting against him like a popsicle on a hot summer day.

“I love you most, sweetheart.” He replied softly, leaning down to press his lips against your belly before adding something. “And I love you most too, baby girl, even though you’re giving your mom a tough time right now.”

“I swear, she’s bullying me more and more everyday.”

He chuckled softly, smoothing a hand down your back in light circles. “I’m sure that’s just her way of saying she’s excited to meet us.”

“I know. I’m so excited to meet her and I know she’s already everything we’ve ever dreamed of, but I’d kill to be able to sleep on my stomach again.”

“One more month, baby. Just one more month and then you can sleep on your stomach all you want.” He murmured, breath ghosting across your skin with each word.

“One more month.” You echoed, curling your hand around the back of his neck. One more month of discomfort for a lifetime of anything and everything with your baby girl. That, you were excited for. Slightly terrified, but definitely more excited. “I’m nervous. Are you?”

“Oh yeah. Nearly-shitting-my-pants nervous. All the time. I don’t think that feeling is ever gonna go away, honestly.” He snorted, nodding sharply. He pressed one more kiss to your belly. “But it’s worth it. As long as I have my two girls, anything is worth it.”

“I hate how perfect you’re being right now.”

“Just right now? I think you mean always.”

You pressed your lips together suddenly, scrunching your nose at him. “Stevie, you’re about to hate me.”

“I could never, but good try.”

“I still need to pee.”

Steve barked out a laugh, heaving himself to his feet and gearing up to help you in your endless attempts at standing up. “C’mon, preggers, let’s get you to the bathroom before karate kid in there decides to try out for a new belt.”

[unclejezzzy]

The Sweetest Torture One Could Bear | Part 1 of I Despise My Rotten Mind (And How Much It Worships You)

It’s 1990. Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson are forced to confront their shared past and shifting dynamics under the ever changing hues of a gay club in Indianapolis. Eddie, exuding confidence and embracing his sexuality offers a helping hand to Steve who is buckling under the weight of societal pressures.

OR: Steve wants to sleep with a guy for the first time and Eddie reluctantly helps against his better judgement.

Indianapolis, 1990

Eddie leant back on his elbows against the metal topped bar of the club, eyes squinting as he delicately held the rim of his glass between his fingers.

It was a Saturday night which meant that it was nothing short of a a visual feast for the senses.

The music pulsated through his body, situating itself in his spine as he squinted out at the vast expanse of potential conquests through the smoky haze.

The multi-colored lights above bathed the adumbrate dancers in an ever-changing rainbow of hues. The walls were adorned with mirrors, reflecting the dancers and amplifying the feeling of being part of something larger than oneself. Giant video screens played music videos and club scene footage, immersing them all in a world of pure hedonism.

Of course, Eddie couldn't deny that a majority of the time the clientele were just as visually stunning as their surroundings. Dancing bodies adorned in leather, lace, and sequins were all in abundance, as per usual.

But something was different. He didn't have the usual feeling that anything was possible in there tonight.

Something was missing.

"What about that guy?" Robin asked; voice elevated so it could carry over the bass of the music as she leaned across from behind the bar on her tiptoes to point out across the room to a guy with spiky blonde hair in a tank top.

“Nah - had him already. He's boring." Eddie said cavalierly.

"Boring?" She reiterated, busying herself with wiping the rims of highball glasses with a dish towel.

"He sucked dick like he was working a nine to five." He scoffed a laugh, taking a sip of his drink.

"Okay, fine." She shrugged, neck craned as she scoured their surroundings.

"Him?"

"Nah - too - muscly." Eddie grimaced, immediately glancing away without wasting a second.

"I thought you liked that?" She asked, looking up at him beneath furrowed brows.

"I like 'em toned, like a subtle 'yeah I work out but it's not my entire personality.' I don't want someone who looks like they're the face for sports steroids advertisements." Eddie said firmly.

"God you're so picky, you're looking for a hook up not a husband." Robin clarified, rolling her eyes.

"There's just nobody new and exciting. It's the same faces, same music, same routine. It's exhausting." He said, staring out ahead of him as he kissed his lips between his teeth.

"Yeah, I forgot that getting your dick sucked could be so tedious." She said in jest as Eddie chose not to respond.

"You know, maybe you're just not as into it as you used to be. That's fine, you know. To grow up and get a life outside of hooking up with people. Maybe settle down, get a boyfriend or something."

Eddie narrowed his eyes, pretending to be in deep pensive thought.

"Nah, that doesn't sound like something I'd do." He eventually said, lips breaking out into a devilish grin as Robin glared across at him.

He allowed his eyes to glaze back over the crowds of people.

His vision fixated on a lone guy with lightly tousled brown hair leaning against the metal bars of the balcony, facing away from him. It was long, layered. Purposely messy? Eddie couldn't decide. But he loved how it curled around his neck from the length.

He was wearing camel coloured chinos and a navy blue T-shirt. Fingers tapping against his crossed arms as he continued to look out at the vastness ahead of him.

Two go-go boys dressed in nothing but tight fitting, metallic shorts and pairs of cheap angel wings that were most likely bought from a Spirit Halloween store were either side of him.

They were elevated from the floor, encased in metal caging with dollar bills hanging limp from their waistbands.

It was an ethereal sight given the circumstances. If he believed in that kind of la-di-da butterfly effect bullshit he would have assumed that the universe had placed him in his line of sight for a reason.

Eddie's eyes scanned the length of his body.

He couldn't help but admire the curvature of his ass; how it was packed so tightly into the material it almost made them look as though they were painted on with the way they hugged his hips and thighs.

"Him." He said firmly, not breaking his gaze.

"What?" Robin asked.

"Him, over there." Eddie said, clicking his fingers with an outstretched arm to draw her in to his line of sight.

"The guy in the chinos?"

"Yeah. I want him."

"You haven't even seen his face yet." She warranted.

"Don't need to. He's got an ass that goes for miles. He could be the ugliest fucker in the world for all I care. I'll just go behind, don't have to look at him." He clarified, biting down against the flesh of his lower lip.

"Here I was thinking you were shallow." She shot back, voice tainted with sarcasm as she slung the dish towel over her shoulder.

"I'm going over." He affirmed - voice low as he downed the remainder of his drink, reaching around to place the empty glass behind himself on the bar.

"Okay, have fun. Be good." Robin called out after him as he brushed down the front of his black tee.

"Never. Don't miss me too much." He shot back, teasingly as he ran his fingers through his bangs to ensure they were placed in the perfect divide between careless and purposeful.

The thing with Eddie is that he didn't get rejected. In fact, he couldn't even recall the last time he got rejected.

He read an article that stated that statistically speaking, men think about sex on average around 19 times a day. This was one of those times that Eddie was happy to be branded as above average.

Of course, these statistics were based solely on straight men. Go figure.

When Eddie wasn't having sex, he was thinking about having sex. And the second he was finished having sex with the most beautiful man who ever lived, he was thinking about the next beautiful man who ever lived that he'd meet the next night.

And luckily for this guy, he was right on his radar.

He sauntered through the throngs of people, skin prickling in anticipation as he approached him. It was almost exhilarating, reaching the apex of a desired conquest.

"Hey, had a busy night?" Eddie asked, slinking an arm around the guys waist as he whipped round to face him.

He had hoped his gaze would be met with the same inquisitive eagerness. Instead, he was met with brown forlorn eyes and furrowed brows with a sinister familiarity to them.

The chiselled jawline, the mole on the side of his neck beneath the stubble, the irate demeanour.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Eddie announced, retracting his hand with the same speed you would if you caught it on the side of a hot teakettle.

"Oh God." The other breathed out, eyes darting maniacally across his face as Eddie watched the muscles of his neck contract with a deep swallow.

"Steve?" Eddie asked, biting back a laugh as his jaw slacked in awe.

"No." He said hastily, shaking his head as he darted around at his surroundings for a quick escape.

"Oh my God, it is you. Steve Harrington. From Hawkins High." Eddie pressed as he watched him back away, hand gripping the metal of the balcony for stability.

King Steve. Hawkins High maverick, belligerent basketball captain, disciples at his heels. He sounded like a cliche.

He was a cliche.

The man was a planet who carried his own gravity.

Continue reading on AO3:

[slavicviking]

Long Odds (Steddie)

“Steve. My buddy. My pal.”

“No.”

Dustin purses his lips, tugging harder on the plastic wire of the phone. The school courtyard behind him is buzzing with life, warm and welcoming - finally - after a particularly harsh winter, for Indiana standards at least. A group of freshmen he faintly recognizes from one of his classes walks by, shrieking and laughing at a severely unfunny joke. He’s been subjected to Robin’s atrocious puns often enough to say so with confidence. He winces.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” he informs Steve because, well, rude.

“I’m guessing one of you annoying shrimps need a favor,” the phone responds in a bored monotone “and I don’t know if you know, but I actually have a life outside of babysitting you all.”

“Steve, watching The Breakfast Club for the fourth time this month is not having a life.” An offended ‘dude’ from the other side of the line feels like a warning sign. He realizes he only has one chance to do it right. If Steve hangs up now, he’s done for.

“Have I ever told you you’re my best friend?” Dustin tries instead.

“Jesus Christ-”

Dustin taps his finger on the booth. Shit. He’s hanging on by a thread, he can feel it.

“Look, this is an emergency, okay? I need you to play D&D with us tonight! Lucas can’t come and we need someone to fill in his spot, that’s, like, life or death, Steve.” After a breath, he adds. “Pretty please.”

A pause.

“Henderson, that’s the least life or death thing I’ve heard in a while.”

Dustin rolls his eyes, sucking in a heavy sigh. It’s progress, though, he can feel the scale tipping in his favor ever so slightly. He knows Steve.

“You haven’t seen Eddie when we asked to reschedule,” he pleads, full-well knowing the super senior in question hasn’t yet been informed of their predicament. It’s better this way, Dustin tells himself. Eddie will be miffed they haven’t told him, sure, but if they find a replacement, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal, right? “He looked like that one time when we were sleeping in the woods and all our stuff was stolen and then-”

 “Wait, hold on, somebody robbed you?” Steve asks, muffled by how he, no-doubt, mashed the phone closer to his face to hear better. At least Dustin is sure he’s paying attention now. “And why the hell were you in the woods at night with this Eddie in the first place? Isn’t being chased by, uh, by dogs enough for you?”

“During a campaign, Steve,” Dustin quickly interjects. “It was part of the storyline. We weren’t actually in the woods.”

“Jesus Christ, kid,” the voice on the other side echoes, this time from some distance away and there’s shuffling that indicates Steve running his hand through his mop of hair,probably in order to calm himself. Dustin, for the record, does feel guilty. A little bit. “You and the rest of the little gremlins will be the death of me, I swear. Not cool, man.”

 “Sorry,” Dustin tells him sincerely. Pauses. And then, “so?”

 “So?”

 “Steve.”

 What follows is a long-suffering sigh. Dustin’s lip twitches.

 “I don’t even know how to play your stupid game.”

 It should be known that Dustin absolutely did not pump his fist in the air in a silent sign of victory. He did not. But the smile that broke out on his face? Yeah, he won’t deny that.

 “I’ll tell you everything you need to know, I promise.”

 -&-

There’s a familiar buzz in the air, absorbing all the pre-game excitement and nerves. Gareth and Jeff heatedly discuss their respective strategies from last week, while Grant feverishly writes something down in his notebook, be it a new song lyric or an addition to his character’s backstory. Just as Eddie finishes rearranging the chairs around the table, the doors open, and his favorite freshmen flood into the classroom.

Except-

“Heard you’re one person short for your Dancers and Dweebs game, Munson,” Steve Harrington (Steve Harrington, his brain supplies helpfully) smirks up at him, jacket sliding off one of his shoulders. On anyone else it would look awkward, for sure, but on Steve, it looks, well, it looks-

“Uh,” is what Eddie responds with initially, a streak of panic flashing through his gut and straightening his back.  Where the hell is Sinclair? Why is He here, instead? There’s so much to address - as he stands there, blinking owlishly, fingers wrapped tightly around the back of a cheap plastic chair - with a witty remark of sorts most fitting, surely. He adds, then, seemingly for no other purpose but to dig his grave just a little deeper. “Um.”

“You know it’s Dungeons and Dragons,” Mike’s annoyed reply snaps Eddie back to reality just a little bit. He feels very much out of his depth, here, in his club, with his campaign notes strewn around, with his closest friends, and-and Steve Harrington? Granted, Dustin has been babbling his ear off about Steve, how awesome he is and the like; not that Eddie believed it for a second since it seemed like a highly idealized big-brother situation at best. But here he is, the King himself. Doing – what exactly?

No, he can make it work. He can, really. He’s made it out of situations much more awkward than this.

 Steve wouldn’t beat him up in front of a kid, right?

Right?

Though, considering the amount of times he’s seen Steve Harrington walking around school with his face punched in, Eddie’s not so sure the guy knows how to actually win a fight.

Eddie definitely doesn’t, and so he’s not going to push it. Too much.

He’s curious, is the thing. It’s tempting, very tempting, to poke the bear - just a little bit. It’s not every day that the former King of Hawkins High enters your humble abode, not with snot-nosed freshmen trailing after him like he’s their personal hero (and yes, that does include Mini Wheeler, even though he’d surely throw a fit if Eddie as much as implied it). Steve Harrington should feel more out of place, surrounded by everything his former so-called ‘King’ persona would mock outright not even two or three years ago but, somehow, he does not and the thought weighs down on Eddie’s gut. He’s not sure if it’s dread or adrenaline yet.

So, in the end, Eddie does what he does best - he acts.

“We are, indeed, in dire need of a player,” he laments, clutching at his heart and leaning his head back. Tilting his head to the side, gazing at Harrington almost upside down, he smirks. “Why, has the king himself decided to join us this fine evening?”

Harrington rolls his eyes in response, brow twitching, but Eddie doesn’t mind. This is normal, expected. Usually accompanied with an insult of sorts but he can really do without one, and so he’s silently grateful. Small victories and all that motivational shit.

So. Here’s the thing.

Steve Harrington actually knows the basics (“I did all the work!” “Yes, Dustin, we know.”). First thing the poor jock (ex-jock?) does is fling a half-filled out character sheet in Eddie’s face with a proud glint in his eye which he does not find endearing at all – he does not, stop laughing, Gareth, for fuck’s sake-. Things get worse from there. Steve’s adorably confused through most of the three-hour playthrough, terribly, tragically unimaginative with the way he makes his choices, but he pays attention, or at least tries to, which is a lot more than Eddie has expected of him.

And, fuck, it’s attractive. It’s embarrassing as it is, to fall for a jock, Steve Harrington of all people at that. But then the guy turns out not to be a complete and utter douche? It’s confusing but exhilarating, in a way, makes Eddie want to push and poke and want. Eddie’s not a brave person, he’ll be first to admit that, but he sees Harrington’s confused pout or tentative smile and is tempted to do something utterly stupid and reckless, like kiss him, for example. And isn’t that a thought. A dangerous and foolish one, but a thought that clings to him the whole evening nonetheless.

Eddie can’t help the sigh of relief the moment Steve Harrington leaves the Hellfire Club with a wave and red-splotchy cheeks, throwing out a loose ‘see you around, Munson’ at the door. See you never, hopefully, he muses, if not a bit unkindly. Because Steve Harrington makes him feel confused and scared and hopeful and he wants more after only a few hours – and he knows, God, he knows, that could never happen. He and Harrington belong to two different worlds, two clashing ecosystems and it was nice, for an evening, but they’d always be just out of reach of each other.

Tomorrow, he’ll drive by Family Video and think nothing of it. In a week Steve would be waiting outside the school to pick up the little rascals and they will not talk.

A month from now, Chrissy Cunningham will die in Eddie Munson’s trailer.

Come find me at InsertACreativeNameHere__SlavicViking on ao3

[italiansteebie]

Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer

also on ao3

TW// TW// Steve gets drugged in this story, there's attempted rape, nothing explicit but the themes are present. Please protect yourself and do not read if this is going to trigger or upset you in anyway.

Eddie had been sitting at the bar, mindlessly tapping his fingers along with the song that played over the speakers. Robin had told him about the bar a few weeks ago, a safe place y'know? And he finally worked up the courage to go. 

He was playing it cool, came alone to check out the scene. 

He’d just gotten a refill when he spotted him. There on the dance floor, in all his glory, was Steve Harrington, just, going to town. He was swaying his hips, and he was actually… Good. 

Eddie would look like a total idiot if he tried to go out there like that but with Steve, it looked beautiful, natural almost. And the outfit he was wearing just accentuated it all. Short, tight cutoffs and a flowy crop top that looked like it came out of Nancy’s closet. Honestly, he wouldn’t be that surprised if it did come out of her closet. 

The song was over almost as quick as it started and the sensual movements were over, Eddie felt disappointed, almost. Based on the cheering from the bartender and the other patrons, this dance moment was a regular occurrence. 

“He’s good isn’t he?” The voice startled him out of his trance, “Uh, what?” He said, ever so eloquent. The bartender smirked, “He’s a good dancer, right? He comes almost every Friday night and just… Lets loose. It’s kind of admirable.” She smiled in Steve’s direction. They watched as the patrons surrounded Steve, a few being more aggressive with their grabs and cheers, and Eddie darkened. He turned back to the bartender who also had a sour look on her face, “Yeah. That’s been happening a lot. We’ve had to walk him out to his car on more than one occasion. We’ve even banned a few people for the way they treat him. I feel bad. I don’t even know his name.” 

Eddie sighed, “It’s Steve,” The bartender raised her eyebrow, “You’re not some kind of stalker are you?” Eddie laughed, “No, no. We’ve got mutual friends, and we’re… acquaintances.” The bartender laughed, “So, that means you guys are dancing around the feelings y’all have for each other, right?” Eddie blushed at that, she got it just by talking to him for five minutes, was he really that obvious? 

Steve caught his eye and waved excitedly, “Eddie! Hey!” He cheered, walking his way towards the bar, “Your usual honey?” The bartender asked to which Steve nodded enthusiastically. Steve got his drink, and they talked for a minute, small talk, nothing of substance. “I’m gonna go mingle, see ya later Eds!” 

And then Eddie didn’t see him for a while, but when he did… Something was very, very wrong. 

He watched carefully as a guy draped Steve’s languid body over him, as he got closer, Eddie could see the way his pupils were blown wide, and the lazy smile on his face. He tensed as the guy practically carried Steve out the front door. He followed them quickly, making it to the parking lot just as the guy reached his car. Steve seemed to recognize him in his haze, slumped against the car, “Eddieeeee, heyyyy.” It was dragged out and weak. The guy glared at him, “Look pal, I don’t care if you guys talked earlier, he’s mine, so move along.” The guy made a shoo-ing motion, hushing Steve harshly when he let out a whimper. “You’re holding my arm too tight, it hurts,” He weakly pushed the guy's hand away, Eddie got closer, and the guy puffed up at him. “Steve. Do you want to go with this douche?” Steve shook his head, “I don’t feel good, I wanna go home Eds.” The guy shoved at Eddie’s shoulder, making him stumble “I’m taking him home, so back off ‘Eds’.” 

Oh, so this guy wanted a fight. He pushed Eddie around, postured up, and obviously slipped something in Steve’s drink, so yeah. He was gonna get a fight. The douchebag released his grip on Steve, causing him to fall against the asphalt, groaning at the impact. 

After the upside down, Eddie took it upon himself to learn how to fight, and the guy being drunk off his ass, would go down like a sack of potatoes with one punch. So they postured, Eddie let the guy get comfortable, land a few hits, before he reared back and punched him square in the jaw. The guy hit the ground, knocking his head on the curb as he fell. He was out cold, Eddie couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He picked Steve up from his spot on the ground, “You okay, baby?” Steve whimpered but nodded, Eddie pressed a kiss to his temple, and set him in his van. He locked Steve inside, before heading back into the bar to let the bartender know what happened. “He’s out front passed out on the curb so you know who to look for.” The bartender sighed sadly, and nodded, “Looks like another ban, go take care of Stevie, okay?” Eddie nodded curtly and jogged back to his van.

By the time he got there Steve was asleep, leaning against the window, curled up in the seat. Eddie sighed as he got into the van, staring at Steve for a minute before starting it up and making his way home. 

He carried Steve bridal style into the trailer, Wayne casting a glance at him before sighing, “Oh, Eddie.” Eddie scoffed, “I didn’t do anything, Wayne, I saved him from some asshole who drugged him, okay?” Wayne shook his head. “I have no doubts that you did, son. Always had a soft spot for the strays.” He hummed, turning back to the flickering TV. “Make sure to keep him on his side, son.” Wayne called as Eddie walked back into his bedroom. 

Eddie laughed softly, “And I’m the one with the soft spot, huh, old man?” He asked quietly, more to himself than anyone else. 

—--

When Steve woke up, he didn’t know where he was, he thrashed about in the bed before finding his bearings and prepared to sneak out of whoever’s house he was in. He sat up and took in his surroundings, he knows this place, Eddie’s trailer. He remembers seeing Eddie at the bar last night… Did he? No. Eddie wouldn’t do that. Just then Eddie walked into the room, Steve failing to hold back a flinch. “Oh, Stevie.” “Uh, what. How did I get here?” Eddie smiled sadly, “Someone dropped something in your drink last night, baby.” He said softly, watching as Steve’s eyes cast downwards and well up with tears, “Not again,” He whimpered. “This has happened before?” Eddie asked, keeping his tone soft, Steve nodded, “Usually the bartender finds me before anything happens.” Eddie sighed, brushing the hair off Steve’s forehead. 

“Thanks for taking care of me last night, Eddie.”

“Always, Stevie. Now that I’m here, I’ll always take care of you.”

And he kept his promise, attending every dance session, walking out with him, arms wrapped around each other's waists, always holding his drink, never letting him out of his sight. They took care of each other, until it involved into something a little bit more, something a little softer. It was good for them, and soon Steve’s solo dance sessions turned into couples dance sessions. Maybe Eddie was a little awkward and floppy, but Steve wouldn’t haven’t any other way. They wouldn’t have it any other way.

[goldenn-moments]

as a tap dancer, i'm SO here for this

it can be so theraputic, especially if you know how to improv. and steve, who's always moving, i'm sure tapped under his desk, repeating steps that got stuck in his head (yes this happens to me a lot. yes i got in trouble bc of it in school). i bet when he's getting back into it, it'd just be him, the old room where he used to practice in his house (with a nice wood floor bc he's rich and i'm v jealous), a jazz record and his shoes, and he'd just - improv. let it flow. find the pocket and start swinging with it, bc steve definitely knows how to swing. yeah, he probably started in broadway style tap, but i think as he got older he would've done more stuff to jazz, and that'd transition him into the more swing style (is this kinda what happened to me except i went more hoofer first? mayhaps)

and once he gets more comfortable in his shoes again, he'd start simple - the shim sham, a classic, everyone knows it, at the end of nearly every tap show there's bound to be an ensemble performance of it. and then maybe he'd move onto the bs chorus, or the copacetics, or 53, or any kinda standard that he might've been taught. and from there, the world's his oyster.

now he's tapping everywhere - around his house, at family video, when he's waiting for the kids, in a diner, etc. i think el and will would be interested in it and he'd eventually try to teach all the kids some basics of it, just for funsies (i definitely think that el and will would take a liking to it though. they'd have jam sessions, and steve would teach them how to improv, and it would be so theraputic for them. it'd be a way for el to let out all her energy and feelings in a way that doesn't involve her words or powers, and for will to be able to shut off his brain and just move)

steve def has some therapy jam sessions of his own, where he turns on some random record with a good rhythm and just improvs to it, letting his body do all the thinking instead of his mind. sometimes billy and/or robin will sit and watch, just a silent support, there for steve when he comes out of the haze and the funk. (i've done this - dragged out my tap board and danced when i needed to shut my brain off. it works surprisingly well).

and idk how conventions worked back then, but ik now there are a shit ton of tap conventions that you can go to, depending on the time of the year. so i imagine that steve would go to those, use his parents money to drive/fly out to one of the cities and go to a workshop or a festival with some of the masters (like with miss dianne walker or aunt di as some tap dancers call her, or with jimmy slyde, one of the greats like them). and he'd take some of the others, esp if it was a fun city like boston or indy or nyc, and then they'd spend a few days in the city too, having a blast (and sometimes there's a showcase at the end of a festival, so whoever came would be able to see steve in that too)

anyways i love you for putting tap dancer!steve in my head bc i literally love this dance form so much and i also love steve harrington, and to talk about them together - amazing. you can probably tell that this is gonna stay in my brain for a while

Steve saw singin’ in the rain when he was six and BEGGED his parents for tap lessons because of Gene Kelly and Debby Reynolds and Donald O’Connor and he did it up until his junior year of high school.

He gets back into it after everything settles back down again bc it’s a great way to keep active and it makes him so happy and Billy and Robin have been encouraging him for months.

He’s not as rusty as he thought he’d be and when he finally hits the entire Moses Supposes dance it’s the best day of his life

[put-me-in-a-movie-mp3]

Hey! Could I pretty please get a Stranger Things ship match-up?

Personality: I'm an ENTJ Aquarius woman (she/her). I'd say I fit my zodiac pretty well. I'm intelligent and ambitious, but also creative. I'm a productive person and a natural leader. I like to think I'm still fun to hang out with though. I take pride in my sense of humor. I'm pretty good at making other people laugh, but also good at problem-solving in groups.

Appearance: I'm half Chinese and half white (some mixture of a bunch of like Irish, English, and French). I'm pretty short, standing at only 5'2. I have dark brown hair that's naturally wavy and a little past shoulder length with curtain bangs. I got it highlighted like a year ago and they're still there, but it's a little grown out tbh. I've been told I look like I have gold in my hair and that's my favorite compliment ever. As for my outfits, the closest thing I can think to compare it to is that model-off-duty/clean girl style that's popular on TikTok right now. I joke that my three aesthetics are soccer mom milf, a 90s supermodel, or a young, cool kindergarten teacher.

Hobbies: I'm a dancer. I train year-round in ballet and pointe, but I have training in a bunch of other styles too like jazz, modern, tap, and hip-hop. Ballet has always been my favorite even though it's the reason I'm sore like 100% of the time. I help teach ballet classes for kids ages 3-8 and it's my favorite thing ever I love them so much. In the future, I want to be a teacher either in a traditional school setting or at a dance studio. Aside from dance, I love reading. I annotate my books with those post-it flags. I'd love to write in them, but I'm scared I'll accidentally ruin the book. I also make jewelry! I like making necklaces, rings, bracelets, keychains, etc., and giving them out as gifts to my friends and family. I like driving whether or not I have a destination or I just get in the car and somehow end up at Target. Recently my favorite thing to do on drives has been sampling all the local coffee shops in town (I've tried almost all of them tbh it's getting a little out of hand and I'm running out of coffee money).

Of Course! :)

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

I ship you with Steve because I could see you as a more feminine version of Nancy in season 1. Very intelligent and not involved in the upside-down or demogorgans. Also, your very caring and nurturing which is something that Steve loves because he is like ( in my opinion kinda got mommy issues but not as bad as Billy LMAO ) (anyways). I could totally see Steve dropping off his cousin or like relative that goes to ballet class and catching each others eyes for the first time. The dance studio has a big window where people walk by to go to other shops that are nearby. Steve happens to want to watch his relative dance and you are in there getting ready for them and you catch eyes. But you can't say anything because he is outside ad you're inside the studio. Also, you thought that you were kind of making it up because no guy has looked at you since your last lover. What you didn't realize is that it was THE Steve Harrington. You knew of him you just didn't know what he looked like. Slowly you're glances started turning into interactions and thats how your relationship formed.

Hope you liked it!!

[kaylawritesfics]

🤍 adoration with anyone from st?

im 17, I am infp, I like dancing, listening to music, sleeping, and swimming. I stand at almost 5'6. im poc so if that plays any factor haha! I think that's it? I don't really have a certain style or anything.

+ from the last ask on adoration, if you recieved multiple im the one who mentions being close to 5'6 and wanted a person from st 😭😭 CONGRATS ON 600 u deserve it smm 💕💕

thank you so much <33 that means so much !! i hope you have an amazing day :)

i ship you with nancy wheeler or steve harrington !!

nancy would absolutely love to dance with you. for some reason i think she could’ve been a ballerina or a dancer when she was a kid so she really loves tapping back into that old hobby with you. she also loves to dance in the kitchen, using only refrigerator light to see. she would also love listening to music with you and would probably even have a little cassette tape of your favorite songs! she doesn’t have much time for naps, but she’ll definitely let you take a nap in her bed while she works on homework.

steve also likes to dance with you but in a more playful and silly way. he’ll pick you up and spin you around. he also really wants to recreate the dirty dancing scene with you. he also likes to swim with you (he was co-captain of the swim team after all) and he’ll race you to see who can make it to the other side of the pool faster. like nancy, he would have a tape of your favorite songs and he would play it whenever you’re in the car, making up stupid dances and singing obnoxious. steve would also take naps with you 24/7! when he’s not working, he’s either battling interdimensional monsters or taking naps with you.

[skullrock]

the drummer - Steve x Reader

pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

prompt: “hiii can you write something with steve going to a bar and theres a rock band playing and it’s all boys except for the drummer who’s a girl. and steve is like mesmerized by her, he thinks she’s gorgeous and looks really hot playing the drums!!! thank youuu”

word count: 987

warnings: swears, drunk Steve

a/n: I played the drumset for most of my teenage years and I feel so SEEN thank u for this request xox!

------------------------------

Steve loved when bands would play at bars.

He didn’t go for the bands – he went to get hammered. But it was always really great when a local band would be playing. There was something about pulsing live music while being blissfully shitfaced. He also thought it made his dance moves a lot better, if the music was live – but Robin disagrees.

It’s an ordinary night at the bar. Robin and Steve go together around 10 pm, hoping to find some cute girls or at least dance and get plastered. As they near the door, they hear loud music, louder than what could play over the speakers.

“Hell yeah,” Steve says, punching the air. “I’m gonna be dancing all night!”

“Please don’t,” Robin groans, grabbing the door.

Steve stops in the doorway, because the first thing his eyes land on is you. You, eyes closed and mouth agape, aggressively playing the set. There’s something sinful about the way you look, the way you move, and it makes Steve feel something he’d never felt before. Robin pushes him, asking him what his problem is, but her eyes land on you, too. Robin smirks and playfully shoves Steve forward again.

“Got a crush, dingus?” She asks as they take a seat at an empty table. It’s close to the band, but not too close, letting Steve stare at you in awe.

“No,” he defends. “It’s just so cool, a woman playing drums—”

Robin elbows him viciously, and he shouts out. “What the hell was that for?”

“Women can play the drums, asshole,” she says. “If you had ever walked into the band room, you’d know!”

Even as they drink, Steve can’t stop looking. His eyes follow your hands, making him dizzy. He wonders how anyone can do that, how someone can have the coordination to play in rhythm and tap their feet to the bass and play the hi-hat at the same time. He wants to know more, not just about drums, but about you.

“I’m gonna buy her a drink,” he slurs after a while. “Just watch me, dude, I’m gonna do it.”

“Okay man,” Robin laughs. “I’ll watch.”

The set ends and Steve doesn’t move. Actually, he looks scared. He watches as you help pack up the materials, and then watches you as you walk out through the door.

“Shit,” he says, slamming his hand on the table.

“Thought you were gonna buy her a drink?” Robin muses. “You said I could watch and everything.”

“If she doesn’t come back in, I’m gonna scream,” he says, shaking his head and staring wistfully at the door. “If she doesn’t come back, Robin, I’m gonna, really, I will really just, I’m gonna lose it, man.”

But you do come back through the door, and Steve smiles in relief, but still does absolutely nothing to catch you. You are joined by your bandmates as you approach the bar to get a drink.

“Dude,” Robin says. “You’re fucking this up!”

“I can’t,” he mumbles, and Robin leans forward to hear him. He is still looking at you. “That girl is so hot, Robin. She’s just – look at her, dude.”

“I know,” Robin says, nodding.

“She’s never gonna go for a guy like me.”

Robin shakes her head in circles. “Whatareyoutalkinabout?”

“Look at me!” he laughs, pointing at his outfit. “I’m wearing a fucking polo!”

“How many times do I have to tell you with the polos?”

An employee appears suddenly, sitting a beer down next to Steve. “This is from the girl at the bar.”

Steve swivels so fast that he almost falls off his seat, turning towards the bar. You’re looking at him with a big smile, and you wave. He looks back at Robin, mouth hanging open.

Robin is shocked. “She must be a polo type gal.” She furrows her brows, and mumbles, “But she’s so hot, why is she into polos?”

“I’m gonna go talk to her.” He stands up, and then immediately sits back down. “No, I’m not.”

Luckily, you make your way over to him, a drink in your hand. Robin and Steve watch you come near with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you say, sitting in the empty seat at the table. “I’m Y/N.”

“You play drums,” Steve says stupidly.

You nod and smile. “Yep, that’s me. Who are you?”

“Steve? I’m Steve. I’m Steve Harrington.”

“He’s really not that stupid,” Robin pipes up, shouting over the music. “He is intimidated by pretty girls.”

You furrow your brows. “Why are you scared of girls? You’re cute.”

Steve blushes even more than he already is and swallows hard. “Thank you,” is all he can get out.

You laugh again. “Do you want to dance, pretty boy?”

Robin cackles beside him and you furrow your brows again. You’re starting to wander what you got yourself into.

Steve stands up and rolls his shoulders back to gain some semblance of confidence. “I would love to.”

Suddenly you’re on the dance floor, and you’re grinding into him, and his hands are on your waist, and he feels more alive than he has in months.

“You’re a really good dancer!” you yell.

“I promise I’m not an idiot,” he shouts. “I’m just drunk!”

“It’s okay!” you shout back. You turn to face him.

“You did really good tonight,” he says. “Like, holy shit. How do you do that? How long have you been playing?”

“Since eighth grade,” you reply. You put a hand on his chest. “Did you like what you saw? You couldn’t stop staring.”

His eyes grow wide, but you laugh. “It’s okay,” you say. “You’re just my type.”

He smiles victoriously. “Really?”

“Really.”

He pauses, racking his brain for the right words. “Do you date?”

You raise your brows. “Do I date?”

“Yeah, like, do you want to go on a date?”

You stand on your tip-toes and kiss his cheek. “Absolutely, pretty boy.”

-------------

taglist: @harrington-ofhawkins​ @wolfish-willow​ @gothackedalready​

[stanbillyhargrove]

Demons - The Rewrite

Chapter 5 - You Picked A Dance With The Devil

T/W: drugs, non con drug use, s*xual assa*lt

I pinched my stomach as I stared at myself in the mirror. Gripped the extra skin between my finger tips and wished I could rip it off.

I was pretty much ready for the last party of the summer, wearing black skinny jeans and a dark red flowy t-shirt. I was waiting for Steve to pick me up and got caught up frowning at my body in the reflection. Too much, always too much. Sighing, I shrugged on my black canvas jacket and went out to wait for Steve in the living room.

The last few weeks with Billy had mostly been great, other than the sporadic bruises on his body and constant fighting at home, but he seemed so content at night with me and Rocky asleep on him. Sometimes, he would fall asleep first and I’d catch the ghost of a smile still stuck on his face. When he went back home though, I hated myself for letting him go back to Neil. Hated that there was nothing I could do but be strong for him when night fell again. I’d bite my lip so hard to keep myself from sobbing along with Billy, that’s not what he needed, he needed someone to be his rock. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, I’d tell myself as I dug into the skin of my hips, as long as I can be strong for him later.

I was starting to believe I loved Billy but would he love me? We hadn’t talked about whether or not we would stay together once school started. I know Billy has a high sex drive and although I was blowing him almost every time we were together I could tell it didn’t totally fulfill his desires. Maybe he would rather have a girl who wasn’t afraid to have sex with him. Someone who wasn't afraid of being seen in the light. Someone who was thin and pretty, who he could take out and show off.

Could he be with someone like me? If he knew, would he want to be or would that be too many problems in his life?

A loud honk tore through my thoughts, signaling Steve’s arrival.

--

A bunch of people from out of town had shown up, turning an already big party into an even bigger, more hectic crowd. People were packed into every inch of whoever’s house this was.

"Yo, Harrington! This your side piece?"

Steve's cheeks flushed red when he was faced with a freckle faced boy. He smiled though, flashing white teeth as he shook his head.

"Tommy, this is Cat. She's new here and no, we're just friends."

Tommy laughed, "sure, sure. Listen, we have the keg tapped out back, come show these out of towners how the reigning champ does it. Mind if we steal him, Cat?"

I shook my head and smiled, "go ahead, I'll wait for Billy."

"Hargrove? You his girl or something?"

I shrugged, "something like that."

"Well tell him we're out back when you see him! King Steve needs a challenger!" He called as he led Steve away.

I hung to the side of the room and nursed a couple of drinks before I joined the group of people dancing in the living room. We moved our bodies as if we were a singular writhing unit, arms pumping and hips swinging in chaotic unison. The drinks and the music were intoxicating, making me feel lighter than I ever had before. I was lost in it when a cute stranger passed a red cup my way. He looked so sweet, all soft brown eyes and lean muscle.

Innocent.

I smiled and took it, gulping down the drink without a thought. I knew if Billy came in and saw me dancing with a stranger he would go ballistic but I wasn’t about to sit around and wait for him to show up. The music was too good and it pounded through my bones in a way that drew me in and wouldn’t let me go. The stranger grabbed me, pulling and holding me close to grind his hips against mine.

After a few songs the alcohol hit me hard, the room suddenly spinning around me and making me feel sick. I peeled myself away from the stranger and stumbled through the group of dancers towards the kitchen, I just need some water and a breath I thought. Maybe then I would be okay until Billy got here, then he could take me home. Where is he?

“Hey, what’s wrong?” The stranger asked, having followed me to where I was leaning against the counter.

“Mmmm too much,” I mumbled, blinking hard and trying to gather myself.

I usually got drunk pretty fast, not having any food in my stomach helped me to be a cheap drunk, but this seemed different. Too much too fast. Spots of black crept in my vision, threatening to pull me under.

Slowly, I lowered myself to the floor, clutching my head in my hands and tried to will my heartbeat to slow.

“Don’t move, I’ll see if there’s somewhere you can lay down,” He patted my knee and walked off into the crowd.

People stared at me, jokingly asking if I had too much to drink. I gave them half smiles as I fought to keep my eyes open. A couple girls knelt down to my level to ask if I was okay, if they could help me. I sluggishly asked for Billy or Steve and the girls disappeared into the crowd. I kept my head between my knees, waiting for someone to find them, waiting for help.

“Come on, sweetheart, let’s find you somewhere comfy.”

The stranger was back, lifting me over his shoulder. I slumped against his back as we passed through the crowd and went upstairs.

Why do my arms feel so heavy?

Why is it so hard to move?

He carried me into one of the empty bedrooms and I was dropped onto the bed as everything went black.

I couldn’t move. My brain felt fuzzy, my limbs didn’t feel connected to my body, nothing was working.

A door clicked and a shadow loomed.

Something's wrong.

There was someone on top of me, squeezing me through my clothes. Pulling and pushing me.

“Billy…” I mumbled before a hand clamped over my mouth.

Steve's POV

"Steve?"

I turned to see a girl pushing through the crowd in the backyard.

"Steve!" She yelled, coming close, "Steve, you need to come with me."

"No way, King Steve isn't going anywhere!" Tommy argued.

The crowd cheered, a singular unit reluctant to lose their leader.

"Steve," she tried, eyes wide with concern, "there's a girl looking for you."

I rolled my eyes when the crowd hollered in response.

"Probably just Nancy being needy," Tommy snorted.

"She doesn't look good," the girl tried again.

"Okay," I agreed, "I'll be right back guys."

A chorus of boos followed as she hurried me back to the house. To the kitchen where she stopped and looked around, confused.

"Where'd she go?" She caught the attention of a guy from out of town, "hey! The girl that was sitting here, did you see where she went?"

He sipped at his drink, nodding, "yeah, buddy of mine took her to find somewhere for her to relax. She's fine," he added before walking off.

"Who was it?" I asked, "the girl, was it Nancy?"

The girl shook her head, "she was asking for you or Billy Hargrove. Really tiny. I've never seen her before."

Cat.

@charmed-asylum

[stonathans-stranger]

Well, since you want prompts, may I suggest for stonathan: Jonathan really likes Steve's tight jeans, Steve smokes low tar cigarettes and Jonathan makes fun of him for it, or Steve making fun of Jonathan's taste of music and the two of them bickering about music

hell yeah!! with 1023 words, here’s me go crazy ahhh go stupid ahhh with stonathan!! this was an absolute joy to write and i hope you enjoy!

Your kisses lift me higher,

Like a sweet song of a fire

You light my morning sky

With burning love

         - Elvis Presley, Burning Love

Steve leaned against his car in the Hawkins High parking lot, looking through his notepad with his to-do list, checking off things he did throughout the day. It was a beautiful sunny day in Hawkins, a cool breeze to accent the summery feel of the air, reminding Steve that he graduated in only a month, and that he’d be off to college in a mere four. He set his notepad down on top of his car, and lit a cigarette from the pack he kept in the back of his pocket. He liked his low-tars, they didn’t make his breath smell bad, so Jonathan would still kiss him without shipping him off to the bathroom to brush his teeth or pulling a stick of gum from his bag. He took a drag, blowing softly into the wind.

His eyes fell on Jonathan, who was jogging across the parking lot in a baseball tee with Steve’s last name and number scrolling across the back.

“There he is.” Steve smiled, finishing off his cigarette and flicking it to the ground. Jonathan reached Steve, beaming, his smile rivaling the brightness of the damn sun.

Jonathan curled his fingers around Steve’s belt loops, pulling him closer, and giving him a slow kiss, smiling into it.

“Someone’s happy.” Steve said, running a hand through Jonathan’s hair.

“Today went really well,” Jonathan said, tightening his hold on Steve’s belt loops.

“Is that so? How was the live shots?” Steve asked about the live shots Jonathan did of Hawkins High’s theater department’s performance of Singin’ in the Rain. Jonathan did live shots to sell for the department at the shows and put on the theater’s page for the yearbook.

“Oh, they went beautifully. I got some amazing shots of Nancy during Good Morning. She’s a wonderful tap dancer.” Steve nodded, snaking an arm around Jonathan’s waist. “I love these jeans. Are they new?”

“Yeah, actually. Went shopping with Dusty for new gym shoes for him and he picked me out these jeans. What, you like em or somethin’?” Steve teased. Jonathan released Steve, and walked around to the passenger side of the car, tossing his bag in, and sliding into the seat. Steve followed suit.

“Make your butt look good.” Jonathan said, taking a swig of water from his bottle. Steve blushed profusely.

“No, they do not.”

“Whatever you say, Harrington.” Jonathan retorted, turning the radio up. The Talking Heads’s ‘Talking in Your Sleep’ filled the car, and Jonathan began to play imaginary drums beside Steve.

“Jesus, Jon,” Steve said, reaching over and twisting the volume knob the opposite way. “The least you could do is not blow my eardrums out, yeah?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jonathan said, laughing. “I thought you loved The Talking Heads.”

“Maybe not as much as I love, like, Queen or Cyndi Lauper, or Bonnie Tyler, can’t forget her.”

“Oh my God-” Jonathan groaned.

“We are NOT having this conversation again.” Steve said over Jonathan prattling on about Bonnie Tyler and how much he hated her music, and how unbelievable it was that Steve enjoyed her music. “I Need a Hero is good and only a coward would say otherwise!”

“Then sign me up for Cowardice 101, Stevie, ‘cause it was terrible.”

“Nance liked it.”

“Nancy likes anything people play for her.” Jonathan said.

“I tolerate the things you play.”

“There’s a difference between tolerance and liking, just like the difference between Bonnie Tyler and good music.”

“Byers, you’ve secluded yourself to one genre! How would you know the difference?”

“Oh my God, Harrington, you couldn’t imagine good music if you tried.” Jonathan rubbed his temples. “You and your fuckin’ low tar cigarettes and your tight ass jeans…” He trailed off.

“What about it?” Steve practically whispered, putting his car in park in the Byers-Hopper empty driveway. “What about it?”

“Don’t even, Stevie.” Jonathan suppressed a smile, but he couldn’t help it.

“C’mere.” Steve said. Jonathan unbuckled and put the console separated them back into the seat, and slid across, into Steve’s arms. “Big baby.” Steve smirked.

“Hey,” Jonathan said, pulling out of Steve’s arms. “You’re on thin ice.”

The two got out of the car and went into the Byers-Hopper residence, greeting Will, Max and El as they walked into the house.

“El, my little warrior, Cyndi Lauper or The Talking Heads?” Steve asked.

“Cyndi Lauper.” She answered immediately. “No question.”

“Ha!” Steve cried, pointing at Jonathan.

“Will!” Jonathan said. “Cyndi or The Heads?”

“The Talking Heads.” He didn’t even look up from his sketch of Max.

“Max. you’re the tiebreaker.” Steve said, hands on his hips.

“Cyndi. Time After Time beats The Heads.” She smiled mischievously.

“Boo-yah!” Steve cried. “Now let’s talk about taste!” Jonathan just rolled his eyes, and took Steve by the hand, leading him to his room. “Am I annoying you?” Steve asked sincerely. Jonathan’s room was ‘base’ for them. They tag up, they catch each other up and explain things and fight monsters together. It was ‘base’. It was safe.

“No. These fights are silly, remember? Not serious. We talked about this last week when we fought about whether Queen was pop or rock.”

“I still think it’s pop.” Steve sighed, rolling onto Jonathan’s twin bed.

“Not this again.” Jonathan laughed, joining him. Steve rested his head in the crook of Jonathan’s neck, and just breathed. Yeah, summer was coming up. Yeah, graduation was going to be scary. Yeah, Steve was scared of the demogorgan or demo-dogs or whatever the fuck Steve had to hit with a bat was called coming back. And yeah, Steve was scared as hell to leave the kids, and he’d miss them so damn much, each and every one of them, even when they whine and drag him into life threatening situations where they’re forced to save the world or die. Sure, school was tough, but freedom was coming up soon. Freedom meant moving to New York with Jonathan and getting a little apartment and taking walks in Central Park and finding their niche together. Together. ‘Cause Steve had Jonathan. Jonathan promised him that. And that’s really the only guarantee Steve needed.