#steve harrington x yn

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𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝘾𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙋𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙋𝙚𝙣𝙨 (𝙒𝙖𝙞𝙩 𝙐𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙇𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙈𝙚 𝘼𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣) / Part One

❣︎ 𝗦𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗛𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻 𝘅 𝗙𝗲𝗺!𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

❣︎ Steve remembers the exact moment he ruined everything. He remembers when those blinds closed for the last time, and he lost you for good. But, it’s been a year since then, and Steve is determined to make you fall in love with him again.

❣︎ wc: 16.4k

❣︎ notes: 𝙚𝙭𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙙 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙧𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙗𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙚!𝙖𝙪, jason carver gets handsy with reader but nothing happens, some cussing

reblogs are greatly appreciated ! <3

September, 1979

You’d met Steve Harrington a week before your first day of seventh grade. You’d just moved to Hawkins from some small town in Pennsylvania - apparently your parents were big on the small town life - and you had been terrified.

You’d spent your entire life with the same group of kids and the same friends. You didn’t want to leave them, but you didn’t have any choice. And to a thirteen-year-old you, it felt like your parents were stabbing you in the back.

You still remember the tears that rolled down your cheeks as you helped your parents move the boxes holding your childhood items out of the U-Haul and into your brand new bedroom. Your mom did her best to cheer you up, “Look,” She spoke softly, tugging you into her side, “It’s so much bigger than your old room. Isn’t that nice?”

You just cried harder.

It was true, your dads new job in Hawkins was rolling in money like your family had never seen before, but you didn’t care about those kinds of things, you never had. You cared about the people and the memories you had to leave behind.

But, of course, none of that mattered at this point. You’d left. You still had your friends' numbers memorized, but how long would it be before it faded from your mind, and your number faded from theirs? The thought made you nauseous.

You spent that first night sniffling, surrounded by scattered cardboard boxes and various items. You didn’t even have your bed frame yet, the U-Haul had gotten delayed for whatever reason, so you were stuck with a mattress laid onto the dusty hardwood floor.

But, like there is with almost everything, there was a silver lining. Your books.

To most people, books are just that. Books. They’re boring, expensive, and seen as a way to waste time and nothing else. They don’t see them for what they really are.

To you (and your friends back home), a book was an escape. It was the perfect way to spend your time and the perfect hobby, and right now, it was the only thing keeping you from breaking down.

Your current book was about four sisters who all were navigating through different paths in life, and all finding different ways to deal with the world around them. It was a classic, and you saw a bit of yourself in all of the sisters. (The painter a little more than the others in all honesty.)

It was simple yet complex in all the right places and definitely one of your favorite books this year. You continue to read it through glassy eyes, doing your best to keep your mind off of your current situation, when suddenly there’s a bang at your window.

You jump up, arms instinctively hugging the open book to your chest. There was another one, and then another, and then another, before you finally swallow harshly and work up the courage to approach the glass. You placed your book gently onto the hardwood next to you, the spine up as it laid flat, and softly padded towards the noise.

Goosebumps rose onto your skin as you did, your short clad legs attempting to get used to the cold air around you now that you’d left the safety of your blankets.

At first, you couldn’t make anything out except for the house next to you and the starry night sky, but then you saw the cause of the noise. A rock. Someone was throwing rocks at your window.

You furrowed your brows and looked towards the ground, and low-and-behold some boy was standing outside your window. He had dark brown hair, wore a green sweatshirt with what you’re assuming is a school logo on it, and gray shorts.

Hesitantly, you unlocked your window and hauled it up, but not before another rock hurled its way straight at your neck. It hit you smack in the middle of your throat, causing you to choke for a moment and grab at the area. “Ow!”

The boy winced and immediately dropped the rest of the rocks in his hand, (why did he have so many rocks? At least ten fell out of his hand!) “Sorry!” He yelled out.

You glared at him, hand rubbing soothingly at your now sore throat, “Who are you?”

“Uh, Steve - Steve Harrington. I live next door.” He pointed at the house next to you, “You see that window?” He gestured to the one directly across from your own, “That’s my room.”

You nodded, eyes narrowing into thin slits, “Alright, Steve. If your room is right across from mine, why didn’t you just stay up there instead of going through the trouble of pelting rocks at me?”

Steve stills for a moment, and you can physically see the gears turning in his head. “Um,” He stumbles for a moment, “Give me one second.” You can hear him practically sprinting back into his house, his sandals smacking against the ground as he goes, and you can’t help but snicker.

You’d be lying if you said that you didn’t find the twenty seconds you’d spent with the boy so far to be the most enjoyable of this whole week, but it had. It was almost strange to you - to be talking to a boy. All of your friends back home had been girls, and you mostly stayed away from the boys. To you, they felt like unknown territory. What did they like to talk about? What did they like to do for fun? Did they have any interest in a girl like you? Would they ever have any interest in a girl like you?

All of your friends had had a boy like them at some point in time, some of them had already had boyfriends! But not you. No, never you.

Boys didn’t look at you. Steve was the first to ever even show any interest in you at all. It made your stomach flutter.

Soon enough, the light across from you flicks on and you watch curiously as Steve stumbles across piles of clothes and other knick-knacks to reach you. He struggles with the window for a second, before it suddenly pops open with a slight screech.

“Hey,” He smiled, breaths coming out a bit heavy.

Your lips twitched upwards at the corners, “Welcome back.” You teased.

Steve slapped his arms at his sides and let his head dip to the side, his eyes rolling a bit as he did, “I’m sure you missed me.”

You furrowed your brows, “You were gone for, like, five seconds. And I don’t even know you. Why would I miss someone I don’t know?”

“Uh, because I'm super buff and attractive?”

A snort slipped from you at that comment, “Yeah, okay. Keep telling’ yourself that.”

“I will.”

There’s a short pause between the two of you, and you nibble on your bottom lip. You’d never been able to banter so easily with many other people before. It made you excited.

“Soooo, where are you from?” Steve asks, effectively breaking the silence.

You sighed and leaned your elbows against the sill, your chin falling atop your hands, “Pennsylvania.” You answered dryly.

Steve nodded and copied your actions so that you were face to face, “I’ve never been there. I mean, my dad has for his work, but I never have personally.” He rambles.

You click your tongue, “That’s cool.”

Steve nods slowly, “Why’d you guys move?”

“Are you interrogating me?”

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

You quickly shake your head, “No, I do. I just wasn’t expecting so many questions,” you chuckled, nervously tucking a stray piece if hair behind your ear, “Um, my dad got a new job here. Some bank job or something, I’m not really sure.”

Steve perked up, “My dad works at the bank too! Maybe they work together.”

You shrugged, “Maybe.”

Steve licked his lips and glanced down at the ground below you. The both of you were only on the second story, but the grass felt so much farther away then it really was. “You don’t seem very excited about it.”

You bit your lip, eyes darting across his tanned skin. The summer had done wonders on him, but you were sure the upcoming school year would fade it away. “Because I’m not.”

“Why?”

You gave him a look, “Would you wanna move away from all your friends?”

Steve paused to think for a moment. To him, leaving Tommy and Carol wouldn’t be the worst idea in the world. He could start over and ditch the reputation he’d built, but he knew that wasn’t the answer you were looking for, so instead he said, “No, I guess not.”

You gestured with your hand and huffed out a breath, “My point exactly.”

Steve shrugged, “Well, Hawkins isn’t all bad. It’s not like there’s monsters hiding out around here or something.” He joked.

You could help but laugh along with him. There was something about the way he always had something positive to say to make you feel better, or maybe that was just how you were observing him in the last ten minutes. “You’re funny, you know that?”

Steve scoffed out a laugh, standing back and crossing his arms over his chest in an attempt to look nonchalant, “Duh, of course I know that.”

You snickered, “Don't let it get to your head.”

“Too late. I can already feel my skull growing to accommodate.”

Your body shook as you laughed, moving your face under your hands to hide yourself. Steve mentally fist pumped at making you laugh like that, and he prayed he’d hear it again, and soon.

Once your laughter died down and all was left was silence, Steve asked, “Are you going to Hawkins Middle for school? Or did your parents enroll you in that Catholic place down the street?”

You shrugged, “Well, I’ve never heard of the Catholic place down the street, so I’m gonna say Hawkins Middle.”

Steve grinned, “Great! I go there, too. You can totally sit with me at lunch and stuff.”

“I’d be grateful to be allowed in your presence.” You tease, pretending to bow your head.

Steve just smirked, “I’d expect nothing less.”

You and Steve spent practically all night talking. He’d gone down to his kitchen at some point for a snack and came back upstairs with two bowls of chips. After many failed attempts, some including one of you nearly falling to your death, you were able to grab the chip bowl meant for you.

Once both of you were full and content, it was already nearing midnight. If your parents saw you up and talking to Steve, you’d be in so much trouble.

“I think I’d better head to bed.” You mumbled, a sad smile on your face.

Steve nodded and wiped his palms on his pants, “Yeah, me too.”

You didn’t want this to be a one time thing in all honesty. You really, really enjoyed talking to Steve, and you hoped he really, really enjoyed talking to you as well.

You opened your mouth to tell him so, but decided against it, so all that fell from your lips was a simple, “Goodnight, Steve.”

He gave you a sappy smile, “Goodnight…” His eyebrows furrowed and he blinked excessively, “Wait, you never told me your name.”

He was right. You hadn’t realized it, but you never thought to tell Steve your name.

“It’s Y/N.”

Steve just chuckled and placed his hands above his head onto the window, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

❣︎

That following week had been filled with late night conversations between you and Steve. They’d always start the same - you’d be laying in your bed reading a book (you’d gotten your bed frame finally), Steve would throw something at your window, and then you’d talk and share a bowl of chips.

In all honesty, this tradition had become your rock. It felt like the one thing that was really yours in this new town.

That last night before the first day of school, Steve had seemed troubled, his brows crinkled and he wasn’t talking as much as he normally did.

“Whats wrong?” You asked hesitantly. You weren’t sure if you and Steve were at the point in your relationship where you could be open with each other. In all honesty, you were expecting him to say something like oh, i’m fine or nothing, why? But he didn’t, instead he said, “I’m worried about tomorrow.”

You furrowed your brows. Steve had been practically shouting from the rooftops how excited he was for you to meet all of his friends just two days before. “Why?” You asked, “I thought you were excited?”

Steve bit his lip, “I was.” He sighed, “But I went to this pool party at a friends house today and it just.. it reminded me of some stuff I’d forgotten about.” Well, that explained his fresh tan.

You weren’t sure how to reply to him. You didn’t want to push him or make him feel pressured to say anything, but you were also curious. “Was it.. was it bad?”

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “Honestly? Um, kind of.” He groaned, eyes shut as he tried to find the words, “Tommy and Carol… they’re not the best people. And I know that I shouldn’t be friends with them but,” he paused and rubbed the bridge of his nose. You wanted to reach out and comfort him. “I feel like I owe them, you know? I was a real lonely kid and they were the first people who ever made an attempt to get to know me, but now…” He trailed off, his forehead hitting the windowsill as he dipped his head.

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. You didn’t know Tommy or Carol, the only things you knew about them were what Steve had said, which were only good things.

You crossed your knees, left heel popped as you nibbled on your lower lip in thought. If Steve really felt this bad about whatever they were doing, then the right thing would be to distance from them, but you didn’t know his situation. To Steve, he felt as if he owed them something, even though friendship isn’t something that should have to be repaid.

You sucked in a breath, socked feet tapping rapidly at the hardwood below you, “It’s okay to grow out of friendships, you know?” You mumbled. “It’s happened to me, and we both parted ways happily without some big, dramatic fallout. If you really feel that way about them, maybe it’s time you do the same.”

Steve was silent for a few moments, and you couldn’t help but feel badly for him. “Thanks Y/N, but…” He took a deep breath and shook his head lightly, “I just don’t think that’s something I can do. I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

You were a little shocked when he ended the conversation so suddenly, and were worried you’d said something to bother him. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

He chuckled softly, messy brown hair falling over his eyes, “Don't worry, It’s not you. But I've really gotta get to bed, okay?”

Unconvinced, you just nod. “Alright… I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Steve crashes into his bed with a muffled groan, pink lips pulled down into a frown. In all of reality, he’d gone to this party and boasted to everyone about his new neighbor. And instead of being happy and excited to have a new person in the group, Tommy and Carol had grimaced at the thought.

“What’s her name again?” She asked, legs crossed as she sat on the purple lawn chair.

“Y/N.”

Tommy snickered and leaned over to whisper something in Carol's ear, and she got that knowing smirk on her face. The one that practically dripped venom. “Oh, you little friend can totally hang out with us.” She said, tone heavy with sarcasm, “She seems just peachy!”

Steve’s stomach immediately twisted, his intuition practically screaming at him to realize it’s a setup, and to do everything in his power to keep you away from it.

“Come on, guys,” He grumbled, wiping a hand over his face as water dripped from his hair onto the concrete below him, “will you please just be nice?”

Carol crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips, “What makes you think we’re not gonna be nice to her, Stevie?”

His nose scrunched at the nickname, anytime Carol called him that he knew he’d struck a nerve. “I’m not trying to say you won’t be, it’s just… I really like her and I don’t want her to stop talking to me if you guys do something.”

Carol snorted, her red hair falling over her shoulder as she did, “You like her? You don’t even know her!”

Steve’s cheeks flush a bright pink as he sinks further into his chair. Yes, it was true that he’d grown the tiniest crush on you during your late night talks, but he couldn’t help it! You were so kind and soft-spoken, and you always knew how to make him laugh. And the fact that you were one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen was just the icing on the cake. How could he not fall the smallest bit in love with you?

That next morning you’d been practically shaking in the car. Your mom assured you over and over that it’d be a good day and you’d make lots of new friends, but it wasn’t that you were nervous about.

Sure, school without friends sucked but you could live just fine without them. No, you were worried about Steve. He’d been worried about something his friends had said, and you had a sinking feeling it had something to do with you.

As soon as you stepped foot onto campus you were immediately looking for Steve. You’d seen him leave his house a couple minutes before you did, so you assumed he was already here, you just weren’t sure where.

You swallowed as you walked through the crowded halls. There were groups of girls reuniting after summer vacations spent in Europe, guys with tan skin and even brighter eyes, but no Steve.

You get through your whole first period class with zero sign of the brunette boy, and it’s not until you’re halfway to your second do you catch a glimpse of him. His back is turned to you, but you could recognize that laugh anywhere.

Shyly, you walk up to him. You can see he’s with a freckled boy and red headed girl, who you assume are his friends, Tommy and Carol.

Carol notices you first, and she eyes you up and down with precision. She smacks on her gum before she nudges Tommy and gestures her head in your direction.

The both of them stare at you for so long that by the time you even make it to Steve’s side he’s already turning to face you.

Surprise flashes on his face, but it’s soon replaced with happiness, and then something you can’t quite read. The smile on his face is strained as he says, “Y/N! Hey!”

You give him a small wave back, nerves crawling up your spine at the hungry look Carols giving you. Like you’re her next meal.

“Oh my gosh!” She practically squeals, grabbing your arm and forcing you closer to her. You nearly stumble to the ground from the force but Steve grabs your shoulder and steadies you. “Steve told us so much about you!” She leered, well manicured hands hugging you close to her body.

You pushed away from her gently, uncomfortable with all of the attention, “Oh. That’s nice.” You glance at Steve to try and get a read from him, but his face is blank. He meets your gaze apologetically and crosses his arms over his chest, “Leave her alone, Carol.” He mutters.

Tommy flashes his teeth with a hateful grin, “Oh, come on,” He snickers, “we just wanna know your girlfriend better.”

“She’s not my girlfriend!” Steve defends, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

Carol rolls her eyes at him and then turns her attention back to you, “Look, why don’t you eat lunch with us today, hm?” She asks, batting her lashes.

Your eyes dart to Steve. You don’t want to invade his space (even though he’d said you could eat lunch with him days ago), and you can tell he’s clearly uncomfortable with the way Tommy and Carol are acting, so you attempt to say, “Oh, I don’t think-”

Carol cuts you off, “We’ll see you there, okay?” She draws out the syllables in the okay, linking her arm with Tommy’s and then walking away without allowing you to answer.

You and Steve watch them go, and you begin to bite your nails, a nervous habit you’d been trying to break. “I didn’t mean to-” You begin, hoping Steve isn’t too angry with you including yourself like this, but he just shakes his head with a sigh. “It’s.. fine. It’s not like Carol gave you much choice.” He attempts to joke, and you let out an awkward laugh.

Steve eyes you, clearly unsure of how to release the tension surrounding the both of you, but the late bell does it for you.

You barely bid him a short goodbye before you’re reaching for the map in your back pocket and leaving Steve behind to stand awkwardly in the hallway alone.

He watches you leave, stomach flipping at whatever he knows Carol must have planned for lunch.

Unlike Tommy, Carol was calculated. Tommy would be mean on the spot, he didn’t really plan out any of the things he did, they more so just happened. But Carol, she’d plan them for weeks.

Once, she’d pretended to be friends with Jacey Collins for nearly the entire fifth grade year just so she could embarrass her at her birthday party. Steve doesn’t know what Carol did, but whatever it was, it was bad enough to make Jacey move schools.

So, yeah, he was a little nervous for lunch.

He was even more nervous every time he’d catch Tommy and Carol giggling with each other, both refusing to tell Steve what the hell they were talking about, and instead promising he’d find out soon enough.

By fourth period, their last period before lunch, Steve had had enough. Carol was whispering something in Tommy’s ear, casually glancing at Steve as she did. Finally fed up, steve smacked his hand on the desk and said, “Carol, whatever you're planning, just quit it, okay? Y/N’s a nice girl, and she doesn’t deserve whatever twisted joke you and numb nuts are planning.” He smacked Tommy upside the head, causing the boy to rub at the spot gently.

Carol glowered, her eyes thin slants, “If you really have that much of an issue with it, why don’t you go sit with your little girlfriend in the bathroom or something. I’m sure she’d love that.” She giggled with a suggestive wiggle of her brows.

Tommy cackled, “I could totally see her and Steve getting it on in the bathroom.”

Steve scrunched his nose, “Gross, man!” He shoved Tommy in his chair, and then focused his attention back onto Carol, “This is the only time I’ve ever asked you to do basically anything for me. So please, just this once, can you just be nice?”

Carols lips thinned into a line as she swung her feet back in forth in her chair, back resting against the plastic seat. “If I leave your little,” she pretended to gag, “girlfriend alone, what’re you gonna do for me?”

Steve should’ve known that Carol Perkins does not do anything for anyone unless there’s something in it for her. He shrugged, “Anything you want.”

A cheshire grin immediately spread onto her glossy lips, “Anything?”

“Yep,” Steve huffed with annoyance, “anything.”

She shared a look with Tommy, the both of them almost looked to be communicating with just their eyes. “Okay,” She suddenly slapped her palms onto her lap, “We want full 24/7 access to your pool for the rest of the summer.”

Steve immediately groaned and ran a hand through his hair. He couldn’t use the excuse that his parents would get mad at him because his parents were never home anyway and they knew that. That’s why she asked him, because she knew they could get away with practically anything there.

He’s tempted to say no, to refuse and let Carol have her way with you, but then he thinks about the soft smile you get on your face everytime he opens his window, and he knows there’s no way he could do that to you.

“Fine.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” He already knows this is a bad idea, but he reminds himself who he’s doing it for. “The pool is completely yours.”

Carol squeals happily, immediately turning to Tommy to discuss what Steve assumes are the things they’ll do together, but he drowns them out.

All he knows is that you won’t have to be subjected to Carol’s cruelty, and that makes the whole thing worth it.

But, he should’ve known Carol would find a loophole.

By the time lunch came the knot that had formed in Steve’s stomach had disappeared, and he was actually excited to see you.

Tommy spotted you first, a yellow tray in your hand as your eyes darted across the room. “God, she looks like a puppy.” He snickered in Steve’s ear.

Steve shook him off, muttering a quiet shut up under his breath as he made himself known to you.

“Y/N! Hey.” You’d never looked so relieved to see him as you do now, your furrowed brows immediately relaxing. “Hi.” you murmured.

“Uh, I’ll take you to our table.”

You gazed down to his empty hands, “Aren’t you gonna get lunch?”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at your words, “Oh, no. We never eat lunch here.” He gestured with his head to the rest of his friends, who were already sitting and were also without lunch.

Your gaze dropped down to your own tray, and you suddenly felt insecure. At your old school, you and your friends always ate lunch, you didn’t even know it was a thing not to. “Should I…” You trailed off, gesturing to the trash can. Steve immediately shook his head, “Oh, no! I mean if you’re hungry then you should eat.”

You nodded and squared your shoulders. Steve was right, no one was gonna care if you were eating lunch or not. It was just your insecurities speaking.

You gave him a genuine smile and let him lead you to the table, you sat next to him obviously, on the outside of everyone else.

Carol flashed a grin at you, “I’m so happy you decided to come! For a second there we thought you might run off to the bathrooms with the freaks!” She giggled. The comment made your stomach churn, but you were sure it was just some harmless joke, right? You forced a laugh, “Oh, no. I was just confused in the whole lunch situation.” You said, pointing to the empty spaces around them.

Carol hummed, pretending to be intrigued, “Oh, we never eat lunch here. It makes you gain, like, twenty pounds in just a day!” All of Carol's friends giggled, and that nervous feeling in your stomach suddenly came back tenfold.

“Oh,” You swallowed, “I didn’t know that..”

“Of course you didn’t, silly!” She eyed you up and down, “Actually, do you want me to throw that away for you? It’s probably a good thing you don’t eat that you wouldn’t want to..” She trailed off with a wince.

Tommy let out a loud laugh, “Yeah, no offense, but how often did you eat your other schools lunch? It kind of shows.”

“Tommy!” Steve shouted suddenly, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

To you, your body had never really been an insecurity for you. But Carol and Tommy’s comments suddenly have you folding your arms over your stomach in an attempt to hide.

Tommy pursues his lips, “It’s just the truth!”

Steve just scoffed and stood roughly from his spot, “Come on, Y/N.” You immediately followed him, doing your best to avoid Carol's smirk as she watched you walk away.

Steve led you into the empty hallway, hands clenched at his sides in anger. “God, I am so sorry. I should’ve known they’d say some dumb shit like that-”

“Hey, hey,” You shushed him, “It’s fine. You didn’t know. We did the right thing by leaving.”

The guilt still didn’t leave Steve though, because deep down he did know something was going to happen. He knew Carol wouldn’t stop just because Steve offered her something. And the thing about her was she was so subtle about it that it seems like she doesn’t know what she’s saying is mean, when in all actuality, she does.

“No, still, I shouldn’t have let you sit there.”

You sighed, “Look, maybe I just..” You swallowed, “Why don’t we just keep our friendship out of school, okay? I’ll find some friends on my own.”

Steve’s lips parted slightly, eyebrows crinkling together in confusion, “So I'm just supposed to ignore you?”

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips, “I’m not saying that. We just won’t go out of our way to see each other.”

Steve sucked in a breath. Doing that made it seem like he was ashamed to be friends with you, which was honestly anything from the truth. If anything, he was ashamed to be friends with them.

“I don’t want you to think…”

“I won’t think anything,” You reassured, “This was my idea anyway. And besides, this way we can keep everything more private.”

Steve took a breath and let himself soak in the information. You would still be friends, just not at school. Easy.

“Okay,” He said, “I’ll see you tonight then.”

June, 1986

Present Day

Getting a summer job at the bookstore was honestly one of the best things you think you could’ve done. After graduation, and the unfortunate mall fire at Starcourt which destroyed your job at The Gap, you’d been out of work and living with your parents.

For most people, nineteen is a normal age to be living with your parents, especially when you’re putting yourself through school like you are because you’re parents refuse to pay because you chose a local college instead of the prestigious one they’d picked out for you across the country.

Your parents were disappointed with your choices and you knew that, but you couldn’t bear the thought of leaving just yet. There were so many relationships you weren’t ready to end and so many things left unsaid with.. certain people.

Like Robin for example. You’d both met a couple weeks after your seventh grade year started. She was a year younger than you were, but she was still the closest friend you had outside of, well, yeah. Steve.

Yours and Steve’s relationship had grown much more complex as the years went on, and long story short, you didn’t talk to him anymore. It hurt too much to do so.

But, Bookish was almost like an escape for you. Most of the people that came in were either kids with their mothers, usually just beginning to fall in love with books just as you did, or they were elderly people who'd fallen in love with it way before you’d even been born.

Robin working there with you only made it better. She used to work at Scoops Ahoy in the mall, along with he-who-shall-not-be-named, but once it burned down she’d been left without a job just as you had.

She’d been over at your house during spring break, the both of you watching Footloose. You on your back, head hanging off of the edge of your bed. Robin rested her back against the headboard, shoveling another handful of popcorn into her mouth. “You know,” Her words came out muffled, so she paused to let herself chew the rest of her food. “That new bookshop or whatever opened a couple weeks ago. Maybe we should apply there.”

You readjusted so you were leaning back into your elbows, a slight raise of your brow. “Bookish? I just went there the other day.”

Robin nodded and popped another piece of popcorn in her mouth, “Did you see if they were hiring?”

You scrunch your nose, trying to remember. During your visit, you’d been too preoccupied trying to find the best book to purchase and hadn’t really looked. “I have no idea. But, if they're new, they probably have to be.”

Robin agrees with you with a nod of her head, and the both of you decide to finish out the movie and then drive down. Robin unfortunately doesn’t have a license, so that meant you were basically forced to drive her everywhere. Well, either you or Steve.

Robin used to hate Steve, even while you were friends with him. She was one of the only people who was aware of your friendship and what it had turned into, and she constantly reprimanded you for getting involved with a guy like that.

But, once they started working together at Starcourt, her view completely changed, but by that time you and Steve were already avoiding each other like the plague.

You glanced at the window, wondering if maybe Steve was on the other side. You hadn’t opened that window or even the blinds for over a year, too afraid of what you might end up seeing.

“Hey, you ready?” Robin asks, throwing her jacket on and leaning against your doorframe. You swallow, eyes lingering on the blinds before you turn to her with a smile. “Let’s go.”

And that was that. You’d both gotten hired nearly on the spot by the sweet old lady who ran the store.

Bookish was one of those places that made you feel like you were entering a different time. The floor was dark oak wood and the walls were linen, and it was lined with rows and rows of books. Some were neatly displayed while others just stacked messily.

It was June in Indiana, which meant all the electric fans were going and the AC was cranked as high as it could go, but the warmth still seeped into the building.

“It’s so hot!” Robin groaned, leaning over the counter dramatically, “I’m gonna melt.”

You snorted as you continued to organize the books in the fiction section, “It’s not that bad.”

Robin smacked her lips, “You say that now, and then you’ll turn and see i’ve become a puddle on the floor.”

You placed a hand on your heart in false sympathy, eyes closing as you imagined the situation, “That would be so, so completely horrible.” You sniffled, pretending to be sympathetic, then whipped your head to her with a teasing glint in your eye, “But maybe I'd finally be able to get some work done without that constant whining in my ear!”

She scoffed, pretending to be offended. “This is not whining! It’s complaining. There’s a difference.”

You grinned and pushed the cart holding the books back behind the counter, “Doesn’t seem like it to me.”

She just rolls her eyes, slumping back into the counter with her head resting in her hand, “Whatever…” She trails off, eyes wondering across the building, and then she gasps suddenly, “Oh, shit.”

You turn to look at her, eyebrows crinkled, “What's wrong-” She cuts you off by basically pushing you to the wall, her hand covering your eyes.

“What the hell, Robin!” You huff, pushing on her arm in an attempt to release yourself form her hold.

“I am so, so sorry.”

“What are you talking about-” You’re finally able to push her away from you, her arm falling to her side as you blink in an attempt to get used to the lighting again. “Seriously, what is wrong with you?” You question, wiping your hands on your dress.

Robin bites her lip and stares right past you towards the front door, her eyes slightly wide.

You like to think that after so many years of knowing Robin you’ve become an expert on her body language, and right now it was practically screaming one thing. Panic.

Hesitantly, you allow yourself to look towards the front where Robin was staring. Honestly, based off of the look on her face you were expecting a monster or maybe even Tammy Thompson to be standing there, but the reality is much worse.

“What the hell is he doing here?”

Steve Harrington is casually conversing with Mrs. Beck, the old lady who runs the bookstore, like he’s known her for years. He’s got that soft smile on his face he always got when something made him happy, and his hair has grown a little since the last time you saw him. His face looks freshly shaven, and he’s wearing that god-awful bright yellow sweater you’d told him to burn years ago.

“I can explain.” Robin stammers, hands coming up to tug at her shirt the way she always does when she’s nervous.

You scrunch your nose and force yourself to turn away from him. It should’ve been a no-brainer that Steve being here had something to do with her, because you don’t think you’ve ever seen the boy pick up a book willingly his entire life.

You point an accusing finger at her, “What did you do?”

Robin swallows, jaw opening and closing as she tries to find the words to defend herself. Finally, she lets out a loud huff and smacks her hands against her sides, “He needed a job! Keith fired him over at Family Video because he was apparently “stealing all the hot ladies from him”, and I told him to come here without thinking! I promise I immediately regretted it and I tried to talk him out of it but it was like he pulled the application out of thin air!”

You rub your temples in an attempt to calm your budding nerves. You didn’t want to be angry with Robin because she didn’t deserve your anger for offering her friend a job, no matter what your history with said friend is, but you couldn’t help the growing irritation in the pit of your stomach. “Why didn’t you at least tell me? Then I could’ve at least prepared myself!”

Robin stutters over her words, hands gesturing wildly, “Because I knew you’d be mad!”

“I’m not mad!”

“Mad about what?”

You’re almost surprised Steve has the audacity to join the conversation so casually, as if you were still the best of friends who talked every night.

You swallow and squeeze your hands into fists at your sides until your knuckles are a pure shade of white. Robin just stares at him with parted lips, eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Uh,” She swallows, allowing herself to steal a glance at you, who has since paled significantly, “Nothing.”

Steve lets out a huh, his eyes lingering on you, who hasn’t had the courage to turn around and actually look at him, instead leaving him to stare at your back. Steve doesn’t mind though, a little bit of you is more than enough for him.

The three of you are at a stand-still, everyone waiting for one of you to make the first move, for someone to speak, to shout, scream, anything.

But you can’t move because this is the first time you’ve heard his voice in over a year. It's still smooth as butter and music to your ears. It’s the first time you’ve smelt his cologne, pine and oak but still with a hint of the ocean. It’s the first time you’ve been near him, and it hurts.

It hurts because you can’t help but wonder about how different your life would be if Steve hadn’t screwed everything up, if he hadn’t said what he said or did what he did.

The back of your throat begins to ache with an onslaught of tears fighting to be let out, but you swallow them down. You refuse to shed any more tears over him.

“What’re you doing here, Steve?” Even his name hurts to say.

“Robin, uh, she told me Mrs. Beck was hiring and, well, I needed a job..”

You finally whip around and face him, your hair following you as you do and harshly slapping against your face, but you ignore it. “That’s the only reason? I find that a little hard to believe.” You mumble the last part, eyes narrowing as you stare at him. Steve hadn’t realized how much he missed your glare.

“Yeah, it is. Why do you wanna know?” He asks with a suggestive taunt, almost as if he’s daring you to take the bait. You know how his mind works though, so you don’t fall for it.

“I just didn’t know if you finally decided you wanted to learn how to read s’all.”

Steve can’t help the smirk that grows on his face. “I was hoping you’d teach me, actually.”

You scoff, a shiver running up your spine in disgust. Of course he’d say some stupid shit like that, he always knew how to get on your nerves. “In your dreams, Harrington.”

Steve grinned, a snarky remark begging to spill from his lips, but you don’t let him. Instead, you flip him off and nearly jog into the back room, your legs shaking as you go.

Robin can’t help but feel concerned as she watches you leave, seeds of guilt already beginning to grow in her stomach. She furrowed her eyebrows and smacked Steve on the back of the head, causing him to let out a sharp yelp. “What was that for?” He grumbled, hand reaching back to nurse the spot.

“What was that for?” Robin mocked, nostrils flared as she pointed an accusing finger at Steve, “You said you were gonna try and win her back! Newsflash buddy, but making her even more angry than she already is isn’t gonna do that!”

“I know that!” Steve defends, “I know what i’m doing, okay? Just trust me.”

Robin was really beginning to regret this.

❣︎

March, 1981

By the time you and Steve started your freshman year of highschool you’d gotten involved in completely different social circles. Steve stayed with all of his popular friends, and was rapidly climbing the highschool food chain. You on the other hand, well, you were doing the opposite.

You weren’t exactly a weirdo per se, but you definitely weren’t cool enough to be associated with any of the popular kids, and that was completely fine with you.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry, but there is no universe where Queen is better than The Beatles. It’s just not a thing!”

“You’re just uneducated! Freddy Mercury is a musical genius!” You argue, pelting a potato chip across your window. It nearly hits him, but loses speed and falls to the grass instead.

He chuckles and leans back in his desk chair. You and Steve had both long since decided to just leave your chairs next to your windows, it only made sense since you spent hours talking each night. “I’m not saying he isn’t, but you’re forgetting about Beatlemania. Last I checked, there was never a thing like that for Queen.”

You groan and cross your arms over your chest, eyes flickering to the Queen vinyls on your shelves. “Just admit you’re wrong so we can move on, please.”

Steve is stubborn. He knows that on all levels, The Beatles are better than Queen. But you have that pleading look on your face, the one with the puppy dog eyes. The one Steve has never been able to say no to. He sighs and throws his head back, a lopsided grin on his face as he admits, “Fine, Queen is better.”

You smile gleefully and cross your legs, “Was that so hard?”

No, it wasn’t. If you looked at Steve like that and asked him to move the world, he’d do so without breaking a sweat.

“Yes, actually. It made me nauseous.”

“You’re such a baby.”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t spent these last two years falling in love with Steve Harrington. How could you not when he made it so effortless? Honestly, you didn’t even notice it was happening until one day you looked at him and suddenly it was like the stars aligned in front of you.

Sometimes, you’d catch yourself staring at him for too long at school and would have to physically rip yourself away and back to whatever lesson the teacher was babbling about or whatever rant your friend was on. He was just so… distracting. Especially now that he’d joined the swim team and had begun to fill out his clothes.

But, you could never have Steve. There was too much on the line. The most obvious being your friendship, and that was something you just couldn’t risk losing. It meant too much to you. But, sometimes you still let your mind wonder. You’d let yourself dream of kisses on cheeks, of love confessions done under covers and milkshakes shared over dinner.

You’d always have to stop though, because thinking about it for too long just made you sad.

The obvious fact that nobody outside of your family and Robin knew of your friendship with the boy was also a big problem with this fantasy. You knew how Steve’s friends were. If he began dating you secretly and suddenly stopped being interested in typical, well, boy things, it’d bring up questions that Steve couldn’t answer.

So the general consensus here was that Steve Harrington was off limits for the foreseeable future.

“What're you thinking about in that big brain of yours?” He asks softly, pushing a stray strand of hair out of his face.

You swallow, embarrassed to have been caught but also unsure of how to approach the question. “Nothing. Just.. thinking about this project for school.”

“What is it? Maybe I can help.”

You snorted. Steve was a lot of things - beautiful, funny, athletic - but helpful with anything school related? Absolutely not. “I doubt that.”

“No, seriously,” He straightened in his chair a bit, hitting the backrest comfortably, “hit me.”

You chuckled awkwardly, eyes avoidant. In all actuality, there wasn’t any project, it was just an excuse you made up on the spot. But, maybe you could play this in your favor.

“Well, we read this short story about this girl who’s in love with a guy she can never have, and no matter how many solutions she comes up with in her mind he will always be off-limits from her. We’re supposed to come up with a solution for her to show that, like, nothing is impossible, I guess…” You trailed off at the end, rubbing at your arm uncomfortably.

Steve made a strange noise in the back of his throat, crossing his arms over his chest as his eyebrows knitted together. You could practically see the gears turning in his head, and sucked in your bottom lip nervously. Would he know you were lying?

“That’s a weird project.” He mumbles, completely unaware of your wide eyes. “Uh, yeah, it is.” You stammered, the confused look on Steve’s face made you realize how stupid this was, and you immediately go to discard the entire thing, “Just forget it, It was stupid anyway-”

“I’d tell her to just go for it.”

Your mouth goes dry, “What?”

“I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? He says no? And what if that guy really does like her back, what then? She’ll never know if she doesn’t tell him!”

Your stomach practically explodes in nerves, and you're unsure of what to say. Steve’s looking at you expectantly, but all you can focus on is that one short phrase. She’ll never know if she doesn’t tell him.

It was true, but was it really that simple? No - it’s not. The risks are too great, and sure, Steve makes it seem so easy, but it’s not. Nothing is easy when it comes to your feelings for him.

The one thing you were almost certain of was that Steve doesn’t love you like you love him. It was obvious in the constant stares at prettier girls, with fuller figures and whitened smiles. It was obvious in the kisses he’d share with them behind bleachers, hidden away from prying eyes. It was obvious in the way he’d gush to you about his latest crush, of how beautiful they were and how in love he was. And the funny thing? They were always the opposite of you. More outspoken and confident - not afraid to show a little skin. Something you were envious of.

“But.. What if she does know? And she can never tell him because she knows he’ll reject her and then everything between them will never be the same again?”

Steve is a little surprised by your question, and he begins to feel nervous under your piercing gaze. Why were you asking him this? Did you.. did you know? There was no way you did - he always made sure to keep his feelings hidden away anytime he was with you. He’d fight down the blush, push away the longing - all of it. In all honesty, he was starting to question if this was for a project in the first place.

At first, your project had hit a little close to home, but he didn’t let himself overthink it. But now, his mind was practically swarming with uncharted waters he’d always ignored.

But, still, he amuses the question. “Maybe their relationship will change into the way she wants. She can’t assume the guy doesn’t like her just because he doesn’t show it. Maybe it’s there, and he’s just really good at hiding it.”

You no longer enjoyed this conversation. Now it just hurts - because Steve doesn’t even know what he’s doing to you. He’s giving you hope, and that’s a dangerous thing to have. It was something you couldn’t let yourself have.

You needed to get away from this conversation and honestly just let it die out. You needed to breathe in the fresh air, finally let yourself take a full breath instead of this constricted, shallow breathing you were currently experiencing.

“Do you wanna go for a bike ride?”

Steve snorts, shoulders rising and falling as he does. “Now? It’s almost midnight and we have school tomorrow -”

“I’ll go by myself then.” You’re already slipping in your tennis shoes before Steve can even argue, throwing a jacket on to protect yourself from the cold night.

Steve nearly jumps out of his chair, brown eyes amused and a smile tugging on his lips. Usually he was the one forcing you to sneak out with him, so this was a nice change of pace.

He meets you outside, watching as you wheel your light blue bike away from the side of the house and to the driveway.

“Where are we going?” He asks, throwing a leg over his own bike and gazing at the soft smile on your face.

“Anywhere.”

That's how you both find yourselves now, wide smiles on your faces as you ride through the quiet town. You were used to the quietness of Hawkins, but not like it is now. There’s not a soul in sight, the only thing illuminating the road in front of you being the yellow street lights.

Eventually, you find a nice hilltop to stop at, and the both of you practically collapse onto the grass.

You’re panting slightly from the ride, but you don’t even care. All you can focus on is the starry sky, thousands of different constellations making themselves known to you.

Sometimes, you think Steve is like a constellation. Beautiful to look at and widely studied, but untouchable. Only a select few got to go up and be with the stars, and you weren’t one of them.

“It’s beautiful out here,” You whisper, hands intertwining on your stomach comfortably.

Steve gazes at the side of your face from where he lays next to you, hands behind his head. “Yeah,” He breathes, forcing his gaze away from you and to the stars above, “It really is.”

You’re not sure how long you’re out there with him, you just know by the time you get back home you’re exhausted.

You and Steve barely spoke a word to each other that whole time, only occasionally pointing out a star that shined brighter than the others or made a funny shape.

But, as you collapse onto your bed and drift into a dreamless sleep there’s one thing you’re sure of.

You are in love with Steve Harrington, and you think you always will be.

❣︎

June, 1986

You’ve chosen to completely ignore Steve, even when he attempts to talk to you. You’ll simply stick your nose farther into your book and walk away from him.

You’ll give him some grace though, because he never takes your rejection harshly. He simply watches you walk away with a sigh and turns to talk to Robin about something.

Robin watches you turn tail and practically run away from Steve for what feels like the thousandth time this week, and she’s had enough. “Steve.”

He turns to look at her lazily, hip resting against the counter top and arms crossed against his chest. He’d attempted to ask you what you were reading today because he noticed it was different than the one he’d seen you with for the past couple of days, but as soon as you saw him approach you shot him an icy glare and walked to the other side of the store. He could see you now, sitting in the window nook comfortably.

“I’m not sure if you’re noticed, but you’re not really making any progress here.” Robin scolds in a hushed voice. She wants you to be happy, and for the past year you’ve been anything but. She’s had to comfort you through too many crying sessions, had to stay over because you couldn’t be alone way too many times, and had to watch you close those blinds for the last time and never open them again.

Robin remembers how you were before Steve went and messed everything up, and she selfishly wants that back. Don’t get her wrong, she still loves you more than life itself, but she knows what you’re like when you’re happy, and right now this is not it.

Steve crosses his arms over his chest, “I know that, Robin. But she won’t talk to me.”

She scoffs, “Can you blame her? You broke her heart! Personally, I wouldn’t talk to you either after something like that.”

Steve stares at the floor in front of him, shifting his position so his back is leaning against the counter instead of his hip.

Steve hates thinking about how he treated you during your senior year. Actually, he hates to think about how he treated you nearly all of highschool. You didn’t deserve it, and you were an angel for putting up with it. But, sometimes angels get pushed too hard.

He still remembers the tears that stained your cheeks as you begged him to explain himself, remembers the hoarseness in your voice as you screamed at him to leave. But, he thinks the thing that hurt the most was watching you close those blinds for the last time.

That was when he knew it was over. Anytime you’d argued in the past you’d always kept the blinds open, it was almost like a peace offering, like your silent way of telling him you guys would be okay.

“I don’t…” He swallows, “I don’t know how to fix it.”

Robin can’t help but feel sympathetic for him. She understands why you refuse to talk to him, hell, she’d probably do the same thing. But, she also knows Steve and she understands how much he regrets his decisions back then. She knows how heavily he was influenced by the people around him and the constant pressure to be King Steve.

“You need to show her you’ve changed, not just tell her. I could tell you I had a boyfriend but once you saw me kissing a girl you’d know I wasn’t being truthful.”

Steve can’t help the snort that slips from him at her comparison. But, he knows she’s right. What good is it to sit here and preach to you that he’s a changed man if he doesn’t do anything to prove it to you?

You on the other hand couldn’t even focus on your book. You’d reread the same page twenty times in the last five minutes, and you still had no idea what was going on! Steve was too distracting - and not just because you hated him.

You didn’t want to admit it to yourself, but sometime in the last year you’d forgotten just how attractive Steve was. The moles that dotted his neck like they’d been crafted by Aphrodite herself, and the way his eyes glimmered a honey brown whenever the sun shined on them. His lips, so pink and sculpted to fit the frame of his face. And don’t even mention his muscles or you might just faint on the spot.

You steal a glance towards him from the corner of your eye, watching as he talks with Robin about something you can’t make out. His head is hung low though, so you can assume it’s nothing good. Maybe she was lecturing him for bothering you, and if you were lucky he’d finally listen.

But, unfortunately luck never seemed to be on your side, and he’s approaching you faster than you can run away. “Y/N.” He has you cornered, your back against the window as you glare daggers at him. What the hell did Robin say?

You refuse to answer, instead choosing to go back to pretending to read your book. Steve doesn’t say anything, he just places his hands on his hips and stares down at you.

You're stubborn though, so you refuse to look at him, no matter how badly you might want to. Steve, seemingly getting the hint, just lets out a loud sigh and says, “I’m going to get food from Bennys, do you want anything?”

Fuck. You loved Bennys. But, you didn’t want Steve to let you saying yes get to his head, so you just let out a harsh no.

“You haven’t eaten since you got here four hours ago, that’s not healthy.”

“I’m not hungry.” You respond dryly. Glancing up at him through your lashes. His lips are pursed and he’s got that look on his face he always gets when he’s annoyed. He shrugs, “Suit yourself.” And then leaves without another word.

For a moment, you’re almost shocked. You’d expected him to fight with you more about it, but you’re not mad that he didn’t.

You practically shoot up and beeline for Robin, who’s already gazing at you like she’s been prepared for this. “God, I hate him!” You groan, rubbing the bridge of your nose.

Robin snorts, hopping onto the countertop and picking at her nails, “Because he offered to buy you food?”

You shoot her a glare, “Because he’s pretending nothing happened between us.”

Robin chews on her bottom lip, glancing up from her chipped nails to a fuming you. “I think he’s just trying to be nice.”

“Since when were you his biggest defender? You were begging me to leave him not even two years ago!”

Robin winces at the memory. It was true, she used to absolutely loathe Steve with everything in her, but that was before and this was now. People change - and Steve Harrington was a prime example of that.

She stays silent, knowing there’s nothing she can say at this current moment that’ll make you feel better.

You force yourself to take a deep breath and lay your forehead onto the counter top, elbows wrapping around your head as you do. You’ve been arguing with yourself on where you stand with Robin lately. On one hand, she’d deliberately offered the one man you couldn’t bear to see a job at the one place you’d felt safe from him without even asking you first, and essentially ruined it for you forever. On the other, she was just a girl helping someone she loved get a job somewhere that wasn’t a shit hole like most of the places in town.

It just wasn’t fair that that place has to be here.

You sigh, squeezing your eyes shut, “I just need a second by myself. I’ll come back out if things get too busy.”

Robin just nodded, eyes glued to the floor as you walked past her and into the employee area.

Robin knows you have every right to be mad at her right now, but if risking your friendship was what it took for you to be happy, she’d do it everyday.

By the time Steve gets back the sun has already started to sink below the clouds, and there was only an hour left of your shift.

You were still in the back room, eyes puffy and red with the remnants of tears. It embarrassed you to admit, but you’d let a few tears and sniffles escape you. You were just so frustrated with your situation.

Steve walks behind the counter nonchalantly, large hands reaching into the white plastic bag and pulling out three styrofoam boxes.

Robin furrows her brows at this, only expecting two. “What’s the third one for?”

Steve’s silent for a moment, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Did you really think he was gonna let you go hungry? He knows you - knows you love Bennys like you love breathing. It’s the only reason he got it.

“Y/N.”

“But didn’t she-”

He shoots her a look that shuts her up as she realizes what he did. Her eyes crinkle as she smiles, and opens her box. “Do you want me to take it to her?”

Steve thinks for a moment about what you would want. Logically, he knows you would want Robin to bring it to you, but what would you have wanted before he screwed everything up?

“I’ve got it.”

He grabs your box in one hand and his own in the other, taking a deep breath before he pushes the door open with his hip. You're sitting there, arms crossed over your chest and nails between your teeth. A nervous habit of yours.

You look up, clearly expecting Robin, but your gaze immediately hardens once you realize it’s him. You push your chair out from under you harshly, it screeches across the floor as you do. You grab your jacket that hangs on the back of it and go to walk past him, but he blocks your path. “I brought you something to eat.”

“I said I wasn’t hungry.” You attempt to push past him, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, he gives you that knowing, motherly look of his. The same one he used on Dustin Henderson when he babysat him junior and senior year. “You haven’t eaten since noon, and,” He glances at his watch, “it’s almost seven, Y/N. Pretend it’s not from me, I don’t care, just please eat.”

You're at a standstill for a moment, the both of you staring at each other. You know Steve’s right, but you hate it. It makes you feel nauseous that he knows you so well.

Finally, after much hesitation, you finally sit back down in your chair. Your arms are still crossed and you’re refusing to look at him, but Steve can breathe easy knowing he’s finally getting at least something from you.

He sits across from you and slowly slides your box over to you, which you open lazily.

You wanted to yell at him to go - to leave you alone to eat in peace - but it almost felt nice to feel his presence again. If you focused on it long enough, you could almost pretend it was still that blissful time before senior year. When everything had been perfect.

Steve watches as you open the box and inspect the food carefully. He can tell by the way your eyes widen slightly that you’re surprised by what you see.

“Is this..” You trail off, heart constricting in your chest.

He nods, “You really thought I wouldn’t remember what you like? Please, give me a little credit.” He teases.

You never even knew he had it memorized.

A ghost of a smile plays on your lips, head flooding with memories of late winter nights spent at Bennys with Steve.

You allow yourself to glance up at him, cheeks flushing when you find he’s already staring at you. As soon as his eyes meet yours he smiles, a genuine, crinkle-at-the-corner-of-the-eye smile.

You eat in silence for the rest of your shift, but Steve doesn’t care. Being with you is more than enough.

❣︎

November, 1981

Sophomore year is difficult for you.

Your grandma died just three days before Halloween, and it hit you hard. Steve was with you nearly all the time, not even saying anything, just holding you as you sobbed.

He never quite knew what to say to make you feel better because none of his own family was in his life. As far as was concerned, you were the closest thing he had to that.

Today marked a full week since your grandma passed, and you’d just gotten home from the funeral. He could see you now through his window, laying on your back unmoving in your bed, black dress still heavy on your body.

You’re not even crying, just staring at the ceiling. You’d always heard that grief presented itself in thousands of different ways, but you’d never been subjected to it yourself until now.

Memories of your grandmother and her infectious smile played on repeat in your mind, and sometimes if you focused hard enough, you could pretend she hadn’t died.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you did so, replaying a memory of her from your eleventh birthday party. You’d been crying for some reason you can’t even remember, and she’d stumbled upon you on the floor of your bathroom.

“Oh, Hunny, what happened?” She cooed, closing the door and sliding down next to you. She winced as she did, her knees popping the whole way down, but she didn’t complain. She just threw an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into her.

“I-I’m scared.” You whimpered, hugging your knees to your chest.

“Of what?”

You sniffled and looked into her loving eyes, “You’ll think it’s silly.”

She chuckled, forehead wrinkling with the movement, “No, I won’t.”

You swallowed, scratching at your arm nervously. “Are you sure?”

“I’m your grandma, I’d never laugh at you.”

You swallowed, letting your forehead hit your knees solemnly, “I don’t wanna grow up.” You admitted.

She didn’t say anything for a moment, which made you feel even worse. Getting older was natural and there was nothing you could do to stop it, but it’d hit you that you were growing out of your childhood.

You’d never be as innocent as you once had been, and at some point in your life you’ll never be mommy’s little girl again. And you hated that you just had to accept that.

Your grandma sighed, fingers drawing shapes onto your arm, “I know it’s scary growing up,” She murmured into your ear, “but it’s also good for us. We learn more as we grow, and we get to experience so many new things. Take me and your grandpa for example, we met when we were twenty five. If I'd never grown up, I never would have met him and fallen in love.”

The mention of your grandfather put a smile on your face. He was a sweet old man with a dashing mustache and a love for your grandma so strong you could feel it without even knowing him.

“I guess you’re right.” You sighed, laying your head against her side. She always knew how to make you feel better, it was like her special talent.

That’s why her death hurt so much, because you’d been talking to her less and less the older you got. It wasn’t something you did purposely, but with the move and all the new things that were happening in your life calling her had just never been at the top of your list. Now you wish it had.

You don’t even hear the knock in your door, you only notice Steve’s there when he’s scooting into bed next to you. You welcome him calmly, automatically falling into his open arms. He strokes your back comfortingly, leaving a soft kiss on your hairline. “How’re you feeling?”

You make a noise in the back of your throat, a mix between a whimper and a groan that shatters Steve’s heart. He hates seeing you hurt like this.

“That bad, huh?” He mumbles, squeezing you closer against him.

You choke out a sigh, “I just wish I would’ve called her. I had every chance too and I never did. What kind of- of granddaughter does that?” Your eyes are brimming with tears again, a sob tearing from your throat as you press your face closer into Steve’s neck. He smells like home.

He doesn’t mind that you’re soaking through his white shirt, in fact he barely even notices. “C’mon, Sweetheart. There was no way you could’ve known, and blaming yourself isn’t going to make you feel any better.”

“I-I just… I just wish I would’ve been better.” You hiccuped.

Steve immediately shakes his head, “No, no,” He stands and takes your hand, gently forcing you to your feet, “You’ve gotta get outta here, no way staying in this room all day is healthy for you.”

You sniffle and glance around your bedroom. Its usual warmth feels cold and empty.

“Where would we go?” You ask, gazing at Steve as he wipes your tears with his thumbs. “Anywhere.”

That's how you ended up at Bennys. Steve had recently gotten his license so you no longer had to bike everywhere.

The cloudy sky combined with the glaring overhead lights must wash you out, but Steve’s not sure you’ve ever looked prettier. The black dress compliments you perfectly, and call him selfish, but he thinks the glossiness in your eyes accentuates them so nicely.

You solemnly drink a sprite, biting on the straw occasionally and leaving a permanent indent in the plastic.

You’d heard of Bennys, apparently it was a Hawkins staple, but you’d never been yourself before now. For how popular it apparently was, it's not very busy, just a few stragglers.

You can see the chief of police, Jim Hopper, and a few of his cop buddies in one corner, a couple in a booth across from them, and two old fishermen at the bar.

“I’ve never been here before,” You murmur, watching as Steve’s head lifts from the menu to look up at you. “I’ve only been once with Tommy and Carol,” He says their names with so much disgust it nearly surprises you, “and it was really good.”

You knew Steve wasn’t the biggest fan of his friends, which was still something you found pretty weird. Why be friends with them if you couldn’t stand them? But you also understood Steve’s situation. He had affirmed his status as King Steve at the beginning of the school year, when he’d fought Mitch Mikealson and won. Ever since then he’d gotten more cautious with being seen with you.

And, yeah, it hurts sometimes to see him pretend you didn’t exist. Before, he’d still give you the occasional wave or smile, but now he didn’t even spare you a glance. But, you’d always remind yourself it was fine, because only you got to have the real him. The soft Steve, who’s boyish charm and honeynut eyes made you melt everyday.

You let out a soft huh, glancing over the menu before finally deciding on something. A plain cheeseburger with a side of cheesy fries. How American of you.

After you’ve given the waitress your orders, you both sit in a constricting silence. Steve isn’t sure of what to say to you right now or even how to approach the obvious elephant in the room, but you could hardly even focus on that.

If there’s one thing your grandma's death has taught you, it’s that you can’t let time escape you. You’d pushed off calling your grandma for months, and then suddenly you couldn’t anymore. What happens if you put off telling Steve how you feel for him, and then suddenly you no longer could? Would you feel regret like you do now?

You think you’ve known Steve long enough now to decipher how he’d react. A soft rejection, but without a loss of friendship. You think things would continue how they normally do - maybe a bit awkwardly at first but, still, as they normally do.

Then you consider the other option, which you thought to be the less likely one. On the off chance Steve does like you back, then your entire relationship would change. Would he kiss you in front of his friends? Scream from the rooftops that you were his and he was yours? Or would he hide you away, protect his reputation from your influence?

You weren’t sure.

“What’s going on in that big brain of yours?”

You smile softly at the phrase, glancing up at him through your lashes. He's leaning onto his elbows on the counter, cheeks squished between his hands. You think he looks innocent like this, and a glimpse of his seventh grade self flashes in his eyes, a time before King Steve even existed.

“Just… thinking.” You murmur, playing with your fingers in your lap.

Steve frowns, assuming you’re talking about your grandma, and he says, “I’m really sorry, Y/N. You know I'll be here for you every step of the way, right?”

You warm at his words, stomach twisting in knots. “I know,” You breathe, “we’re best friends. We have to be there for each other.”

Steve's heart constricts at the phrase. Best friends. Was that what he’d always be to you? He wants to be so much more - he wants to sweep you off your feet, show you just how much he loves you. If real love is something teenagers can’t experience, then he’s not sure he ever wants to, because whatever it is he’s feeling for you right now is practically engulfing him whole.

“Yeah,” He smiles weakly, “Best friends.”

Your eyebrows knit at the solemn look on his face, watching as he swishes the straw in his drink with his fingertip.

“Steve-” You begin, but the waitress is approaching you with your food before you can finish. Steve’s grateful for the interruption, not sure if he’s ready to answer whatever it was you were going to ask.

He distracts himself with his food, and you do the same. You're not sure why, but something about the way Steve said best friend made you feel uneasy. Did he not think you guys were? Or did he… did he want something else?

You blink the thought away, forcing yourself not to think of it.

But… what if…

You think of your grandma, how the regret of not calling her filled your entire body until you could barely breathe. Did you want that to happen with Steve? No, you didn’t. So there was only one solution.

The moon is up by the time you get in the car, and you allow Steve to drive you to your spot.

The hilltop where you first rode your bikes to last year had become almost like a comfort place for the both of you. You went anytime either of you were upset, and you always sat in the same positions. You, with your hands laid comfortably on your stomach and him with his hands behind his head. It was basically a routine at this point.

But, tonight, it’d be different. Because you were either about to ruin your friendship with Steve forever, or start something you’d never be able to turn away from.

You’re both silent, but while Steve seems peaceful, you’re anything but. Your mind is running wild with what-ifs, and you anxiously chew on your bottom lip. Just do it, you think, just do it.

“Steve?” You mumble, placing your hands behind your back and sitting up. Steve follows your lead, an eyebrow raised as he does. “Yeah?”

You squeeze your eyes shut and pull your knees into your chest, dress riding up until its hem is at the middle of your knees. “If I.. If I tell you something, you promise you won’t judge me? And- and nothing will happen to our friendship?”

He laughs nervously, “What’re you talking about?”

Just do it, you chant in your mind, Just do it.

You suck in a breath, “I love you. A lot. Like- more than I think should even be humanly possible, and I think I always have. It’s like- like this weight in my chest everytime I see you, you know? Because you’re you and I'm, well, I'm just me. And I tell myself there’s no way you could ever love me back but then you started acting all weird in the diner and I just- I had to know.” By the end of your rambling you’re panting softly, refusing to even look at Steve. You're too afraid of what you might see.

But Steve feels as if an angel herself has just blessed him. You love him?

You love him?

He feels too shocked to even move, heart practically beating out of his chest as he stares at you. The moonlight brings out your features so nicely, and your lips just look so- so kissable.

It’s crazy. He knows it is. But he’s waited so long, and he’s not sure how many times he can imagine the softness of your lips before he needs to feel it. So he does.

He connects his lips with yours so fast you barely even register it. It’s a soft peck, barely even a kiss really, but it’s perfect to you.

He pulls away quickly, hand on your cheek as he stares into your eyes. Only half of his face is visible in the darkness, but it’s enough for you. Because you’re plunging back in like you’ve been starved.

It’s messy, with clattering teeth and wandering hands. You find purchase in his hair, tugging slightly, and he lets you, groaning slightly at the feeling. His hands ghost of your waist nervously, and you reach down and place them comfortably on your hips.

It should be sinful how good he tastes - like strawberries eaten next to the pool on a warm summer day. “S- Steve,” You gasp between his lips, barely able to get the word out before he’s immediately diving back in.

You indulge in it for a few seconds more, before you’re gently pushing him away from you. He pulls back completely, removing his hands from your waist in a panic, “What’s - What’s wrong?” He pants.

You shake your head, assuring him it’s nothing like that. You take a breath, “What does… does this mean that you..?”

Steve has a big dopey smile on his face, tucking a peice of hair behind your ear, “That I love you?” He mumbles, “Because I do. So much. More than I think you’ll ever know.”

It’s those words that confirm what you’d thought for the past two years. Steve is your soulmate, someone you were always meant to find. Suddenly, you’re thankful for the move. Something that had once seemed life ruining has been the opposite - it brought you to your reason for living.

“Then what does this mean for us?” You question.

It’s then that Steve realizes this might not be all great like he thought it would be - because Tommy and Carol were still in the picture. He couldn’t just walk into school holding hands with you as if they hadn’t spent every waking day making fun of you. He never joined, always choosing to stay silent during their tangents, but he never stopped them either.

He swallows, studying your face. Would loving you be enough for him? Could he throw it all away, the parties, the friends, the popularity - if it meant he’d be able to be with you?

He’s not sure.

But what if he can have both? The popularity and you. He’d just have to keep your relationship a secret just like you had been doing for years, it was that simple! But, he doesn’t want to ruin the moment with you right now and get into that. So instead, he kisses you slowly again and murmurs, “We'll figure it out as we go.”

❣︎

July, 1986

It’s been two weeks since what you called The Tolerable Act. AKA, the day Steve Harrington brought you food and also made himself more tolerable.

You wouldn’t be going out of your way to talk to him, but if he approached you you no longer ran. Your responses were always short - but they were responses. Baby steps.

Today, when you walk into work Steve is already there stacking books and organizing shelves. His eyes are almost immediately drawn to you, and not just because he loves seeing you - no, this time, he notices something.

He thinks his heart drops into his stomach for a moment once he sees the guy with you. You're all smiles and giggles, playing with the hem of your lacy white shirt.

Jason Carver stands casually in the doorway, arm thrown above his head as he leans over you. Steve can’t see what he’s saying from here, but whatever it is, it’s making you blush.

Steve’s not even sure what comes over him - but he’s dropping the rest of the books he was organizing messily onto the shelf and speeding over to you before he can even think it through.

Jason notices first, his eyebrows furrowing as he eyes him. Steve gives a tight lipped smile, brown eyes darting between you and Jason.

Steve never really disliked Jason - he was a nice guy. A little pushy at times, but overall he didn’t seem too bad. But, now, watching Jason flirt with you like he knew anything about you made Steve’s stomach twist in the worst way.

Jason didn’t know you. He didn’t know anything about you! Steve knew it was selfish of him to expect you to be hung up on him forever like he was hung up on you, but did you have to bring Jason here?

“Harrington,” Jason said sultry smooth, bringing his arm down and stuffing his hands into his varsity jacket. He’d graduated last month and was still wearing that thing? Steve thought that was a douchey move. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

Steve hummed, “Started a couple weeks ago.”

Jason smirked, “Still working at dumps like this place, huh?” He joked. Steve could see the intentions behind what he said - they were a poke at Steve still living with his parents and not making it into college. He glances at you, but you don’t say anything, instead choosing to keep your eyes on the carpet.

“Still wearing your highschool jacket in public, huh?”

Jason’s gaze hardened just barely, enough for you to not notice, but Steve did. They both just stared at each other for a few moments, almost like they were challenging each other.

“Jason -” Both boys tore their gazes away from each other and onto you, “I’ll see you tonight, okay?” You usher, silently pushing him out. Jason bent down to kiss your cheek, eyes never leaving Steve’s as he did.

Once he was gone, you turned around and tried to make your way past him to clock in, but Steve stopped you. “Jason Carver? Really?”

Your nostrils flared, eyebrows knitting together as you gave him a harsh glare. “Who I talk to isn’t any of your business anymore.”

“That guys a total asshole!”

“And you aren’t?” You retorted, “I’m not sure if you remember, but let me remind you that-”

He cuts you off with a sigh, large hand running through his hair. His shirt rode up as he did, and you had to force yourself not to look at his tanned skin. “I remember.” He mumbled, “But, at least I've tried to better myself. Jason hasn’t! And he doesn’t deserve you, you’re so much better than he ever will be. I can’t believe you don’t realize that.” He took a breath, studying your face.

Jealousy is something Steve wasn’t used to feeling when it came to you. He’d always known that you were his and he was yours, and nothing would ever change that.

But, watching Jason Carver pull all those little giggles and shy smiles out of you that he used to - it hurt more than he liked to admit. His dad would tell him to: “grow up, she's just some girl after all.”

But you aren’t. Steve doesn’t think you ever were.

“Stop doing that!” You choke out. You’re more than fed up “Stop pretending that you’ve changed and that everything is- everything is fine! You played me for years, Steve. And as soon as I'm back together again you just show up here and remind me why I-” You pause, eyes going glassy and nose turning a shade of red, “why I can’t love you anymore. And it hurts - God, it hurts - but, I won’t allow myself to fall apart like I did again. And Jason- Jason likes me. I know he does. So don’t fucking ruin this for me.”

Steve’s silent, arms crossed over his chest as he processes your outburst. He knows he deserves it and it’s something he thinks he needs to hear, but that doesn’t make it any easier. You played me for years, Steve. Did you really think that?

Still, against his better judgment, he watches you as you turn your back to him and stomp into the back room.

You finally let out the sob you were holding in as soon as you’re out of sight, back hitting the cold stone wall. You hate him. Him and his stupid, stupid face and his horrible jokes. You hate that he can make you feel so many inexplicable things with just one sentence - He doesn’t deserve you.

If Jason doesn’t deserve you, then who does?

You avoid Steve your whole shift, and it’s easy, because Steve avoids you too. Robin called out sick which meant it was just the two of you and that made things so much worse.

You can feel his gaze lingering on you every time the clock ticks closer to your date, and it sends a shiver up your spine each time. If it’s because of your nerves about seeing Jason again or your undeniable longing for Steve, you’re not sure.

Once Jason arrives, Steve watches from behind the counter as you take Jason’s hand and let him lead you to his car, a toothy grin highlighting your face.

He sighs, crossing his legs where he stands and leaning onto his forearms. He feels helpless, like he’s an onlooker in his own life, watching you pull farther and farther away from him and not being able to do anything about it.

Jason’s car pulls away, and you watch as Bookish disappears from your line of sight. It feels foreign - leaving Steve behind to go with another guy. If you’d told yourself two years ago this was what your relationship would become, you never would’ve believed it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Harrington?” Jason asks, stealing a glance at you.

You chew on your lip, cherry chapstick lingering on your tongue. “We used to be really close, but we kinda just…” You swallow and play with your fingers in your lap, “grew apart.”

Jason hums, fingertips drumming against the wheel as he drives. “You guys seemed more than close back there.”

You’re stumped. You can’t understand why Jason is so interested in this topic, which is something you really don’t want to talk about with him, and understandably so. You think up a quick excuse, “He’s just protective.”

He scoffs out a laugh, “Protective? No, it was more than that. It was like he- he loved you or something.” He says it like there’s no way that could be true. Like The Steve Harrington couldn’t ever love a girl like you.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Can we talk about something else, please?”

Jason doesn’t say anything and just drives silently. He’d told you he was taking you somewhere special but didn’t specify after that - and as you watch him drive deeper and deeper into the woods you’re beginning to get nervous.

He parks next to Lovers Lake, turning in the radio and immediately shifting his seat back.

You’d heard stories of guys doing this - taking a girl out to hook up with and disguising it as a date.

He's leaning over right as you realize what this is, and you pull away quickly, head nearly hitting the window. “Jason, I thought we were going out?”

“We are. I just thought.. we could have fun first.”

You swallow. This was wrong, you knew it was. Didn’t you deserve to go on a real date like other girls do? What made you so different from them?

But… Maybe this was a real date. Maybe this was what other girls did. And if that was true, shouldn’t you indulge? You’d always been aware your relationship with Steve was different than most other highschool relationships, so maybe you were finally getting a taste of the reality.

You kiss him first, practically surging forward. It’s hard and sloppy. It’s too much. It’s wrong.

You remind yourself that this is what real girls do.

You kiss him harder, holding back the whimper that begs to escape from your throat as he slips his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like cigarettes and mint - nothing like Steve.

He pulls you by your hips over the center console awkwardly, your legs banging against the dashboard as you move, but he never breaks apart.

You settle on his lap, letting him push and pull you anyway he wants. He’s in no way soft - wandering hands never asking for permission as he slips them under your shirt. This is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong-

“Jason-” You breathe between his hungry lips, attempting to push away, but he grabs the back of your neck and forces you against him again. Your hands push at his chest hard, and he’s so shocked he lets you go.

“What’s your problem?” He pants, eyebrows knitted together.

You want to sob- because what the hell are you doing? Kissing Jason Carver in his car in the middle of nowhere? This is wrong. If this is what other girls do, then you don’t want to be like them.

“Can we-” You suck in a breath, shifting uncomfortably on his lap, “Can we just take a break? Maybe actually talk and try to get to know each other?”

He stares at you coldly for a few moments, blue eyes searching your face for something you’re not sure of. Then he’s laughing - as if you’ve said the funniest thing in the world. His chest convulses as he does, and he attempts to kiss you again but you pull away.

His laughter immediately stops and his face contorts into anger, his nostrils flared. “Are you kidding me?”

“Jason-” You attempt, but he’s pushing you off of him before you can get the word out. You land in the passenger seat uncomfortably, legs at an awkward angle but you feel too unnerved to move.

“You came onto me first!”

He was right, you had kissed him first. It was your fault he thought he’d be getting something else tonight. “I know and i’m sorry, but-”

He cuts you off with a laugh, tongue running over his teeth like a hungry animal. “I mean- there’s no way you’re being serious right now, right?” He asks, “Why the hell do you think I brought you out here? To talk? I thought you were smarter than that.”

Your eyes go wide, jaw hanging open as you process his words. Had you really been so stupid?

He points an accusing finger at you, “If you think any guy is going to want you beyond just fucking you then you’re in for a treat. Now get the fuck out of my car.”

“Jason-”

“Get out!”

So you do. You stumble a bit as your feet hit the grass, barely having any time to close the door before he’s speeding off.

The tears come before you can stop them, arms wrapping around yourself as you stare out into the lake.

The water makes the air feel cooler, so goosebumps form across your skin and cause a shiver up your spine. You don’t know how to get home from here - or to the bookshop. But there is one place you can think of.

You're not sure how long you walk, you just know by the time you reach the hill your feet hurt and your calves feel practically numb.

You collapse onto the grass with a soft groan, immediately hugging your knees to your chest. The tears had long since stopped and were replaced with occasional hiccups, eyes glassy but the tears never falling.

You stare up at the sky, finding comfort in all of the familiar constellations. Lately they’d been the only constant thing in your life, the one thing you knew would always be there and would never go away.

You hate that Steve was right more than you’d like to admit. He doesn’t deserve you, you’re so much better than he ever will be. What right did he have to say something like that to you? It makes you almost nauseous.

Steve Harrington had become something of an anomaly to you over the past year. You’d been told thousands of times that he’d changed by Robin - hell, Steve himself had been making an effort to show you that he’d never make the same mistakes he had again, but it was like you couldn’t accept it.

Your heart had subconsciously built up brick walls to protect yourself from ever being hurt like that again, and any mention of Steve Harrington threatened to tear them down.

You sigh, forehead dipping down to rest on your knees. You’re not sure how you’re going to get home, but right now it’s the last thing in your mind.

“Y/N?”

You’re head shoot’s up, neck craning to see the eyes of the person in front of you.

It doesn’t surprise you once you realize it’s Steve, because who else would be out here this late?

“Hi.” You mumble, head immediately going back to lay on your knees comfortably.

He sits down next to you cautiously, plastic bag falling next to him as he does. He subconsciously makes sure to leave enough distance between the both of you so he doesn’t scare you off. “Where’s your date?”

You close your eyes, breaths coming in shallow as you shift uncomfortably. Your head lols lazily to the side, allowing yourself to get a full view of his face. His eyebrows are raised and his arms are behind him and holding his torso up.

“Probably out being a douche somewhere.”

He chuckles, “That bad, huh?”

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Definitely wasn’t the best date ever.” Not like you had many to compare it to.

“I won’t say it even though I really want to- but just know i’m thinking it really, really hard-”

You roll your eyes, “Just say it.” You huff.

He doesn’t hesitate, “I told you so.”

You mentally conclude that Steve should not be allowed to be right ever. “What are you doing here?” You ask.

Steve’s gaze falls to the grass below, throat bobbing as he swallows. “I needed to clear my head.”

You hum in response and decide not to push it, instead letting your knees stretch in front of you as your hands fall behind you. Your eyes fall to the white Walmart bag next to him and you gesture to it with your head, “What’s in the bag?”

Steve reaches over and pulls out a six pack of cheap beer, the kind you drank when you were trying to get stupid drunk. “I wasn’t planning on having any company, so I hope six’s enough for you.”

You snort, watching as he rips one out of its packaging and hands it to you. You ignore the brush of your hands as you do.

It pops open loudly, and you immediately bring it to your lips, ignoring the burning in your throat as it slides down roughly. Steve does the same, and you both sit in a comfortable silence and drink your respective drinks.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, but you can’t stop looking at him. Thoughts of how pretty he is run through your mind - but so do others. Like questions of how you became strangers who knew everything about each other so quickly.

“Do you ever wonder about what things would be like if.. if we hadn’t broken up?” You question quietly, eyes lingering on the side of his face.

He doesn’t move for a moment, lips thinning out into a line. He breathes in through his nose, “Sometimes I do. But every time I remember how things are between us I have to stop, because lying to myself almost hurts more than the reality.”

Your hands tighten into fists by your side, and you force back another gulp of the warm drink. “How did we even get here?” You suddenly laugh out, “It doesn’t even feel natural.”

Steve shrugs, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Honestly? I’m not really sure. Sometimes it feels like one day I was waking up with you and then the next I wasn’t.” Well, technically that is what happened.

You're not sure if it’s the alcohol that gives you courage, but you finally admit, “Sometimes I hate you for turning us into this.” You mutter, “Sometimes I hate myself for not trying to fix it. But, sometimes I think that is how things were always going to turn out - that maybe we were never meant to be in each other's lives and we somehow screwed up Gods plans and this is our punishment.”

“I don’t think he means it as a punishment.” Steve breathes, finally letting himself look at you, “I think it’s more of a lesson. A reminder, maybe.”

You snort, “Well, I hate this lesson, and I’m ready for it to be over.”

“Me too.”

You don’t argue when Steve scoots closer to you so your legs are touching, shorts rubbing against each other awkwardly.

You and Steve share an actual conversation - one without any arguing or resistance from you. It’s a conversation like you used to have.

You don’t argue when Steve offers you a ride home, showing that his beer is still half-way full. You don’t argue when he tells you good night, in fact you bask in it.

That night when Steve goes to bed, he watches your light flick on and your shadow approach the window. You stand there for a while - contemplating he thinks - and he hopes that you do it. That you open the blinds and show him that everything would be okay again.

But you don’t. You flick the light back off, and go to bed. Leaving the blinds closed.

taglist: @stevesxwhore @billielourdslays @carinacassiopeiae

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #joe keery #joe keery x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #jason carver #stranger things #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fanfic #exes to lovers #yn #x reader #robin buckley #Spotify

[sanguineterrain]

i'll put us back together at heart - s.h.

Summary: It's 1987. You haven't spoken to Steve Harrington in nearly five years. Then Dustin Henderson tells you about a sweet deal he has at Family Video, where he can rent any movie he wants.

Pairing: ex-best friend!Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 8.8k

Warnings/tags: friends to strangers to lovers. the reader is twenty in 1987 and i technically made steve twenty-one/about to turn twenty-one. s4 happened but eddie's alive and vecna's dead. no earthquakes or anything like that; reader has no idea about what really happened. lots of angst, mentions of billy hargrove (yuck) and steve's s1 asshole friends.

A/N: oh my lord. i don't know where this eighteen-wheeler of a fic came from but here it is. there is a happy ending, not to worry. i'd never do that to y'all &lt;3 feedback and reblogs are always always appreciated!

divider by firefly-graphics

August 1981

"I wish we could stay eighth graders forever."

You lift your head from your orange pool floaty. Steve drifts on the surface of the water. His hair is longer, way longer than you've seen it in the three years you've been friends. He says it's better for styling that way; he's even bought a gel and cream for his hair. You don't understand why he wants to change something that doesn't need changing. 

"Why?" you ask. "I thought you were excited for high school."

He hums. The sound echoes in his backyard. 

"It's bigger than middle school. More kids, more teachers, more work. I like eighth grade."

"I'll help you with your work," you say. 

Steve turns his head and smiles at you. Part of his face is in the water, the image distorted. 

"You'll do great," he replies. "You're so smart."

Steve doesn't say those things to get you to help him like other kids do. Steve means it. 

"You'll do great too," you say. "You're funny and nice and my best friend. People will like you."

"You think?" 

You nod. Steve turns his head and closes his eyes again. 

"We'll stay friends, right?" he asks. 

The floaty squeaks as you move to sit up. You paddle to Steve so you can look at his face. 

"Why wouldn't we?"

"I dunno." His eyes are still closed. "You might make super smart friends. And I'll just be a dumbass holding you back."

You shove Steve's shoulder lightly. 

"You are not dumb, Steve."

One muggy June night had had Steve admit he wasn't thirteen, like you and all the kids in your class, but fourteen. He had been held back in third grade after his parents moved from Illinois. It's why my brain's mush, he'd said. I was born dumb.

He had made you swear not to tell anyone. 

"You're not dumb," you say again. "Say it, Steve. Say you're not dumb."

His frown deepens, but he still won't look at you. 

"Tommy says I am."

"Tommy Hagan is a shithead," you shoot back with so much venom, Steve's eyes fly open. "It's not true, whatever he tells you."

You hate that they've been hanging out more this summer. You can't tell Steve that, because it's not like you own him. He can be friends with whoever he wants. But you can't help that your skin crawls when Tommy and his stupid girlfriend, Carol, drops by and pulls Steve away from you. 

“Promise?” he asks.

“Yes, Steve. I promise.”

“‘Kay.” Steve smiles a little. “Thanks.” 

You nod and lay back on the floaty. 

“Wanna get ice cream after this?” he asks. 

“Just us?” 

“Just us.”

Now. (January, 1987)

You slam the phone back onto the receiver. A girl playing Pac-Man carefully glances at you. 

Whoops. Right. You're still at work. 

You smile and give a thumbs-up. She turns around. You return to your wallowing. 

You’ve called three different video rentals. Jewel Films, which is about to go out of business; More Movies, whose attendant hung up on you before you could say Molly Ringwald; and finally, Blockbuster, which is thirty minutes outside of Hawkins. None of them have a copy of Pretty in Pink. 

And okay. You could just watch another movie. You don't need that specific one. But this year has been shit. You'd thought after starting college, you'd finally break out of the Hawkins forcefield that had limited your social life. You'd thought you'd make friends and not be so terribly lonely. Life is supposed to get better after high school, isn’t it? 

Obviously, whoever said that is a big, fat liar. 

“Dude!” you hear a familiar voice exclaim. “Stop hogging the game!”

Tawny curls peek from under a green and yellow hat. The hat hovers over an older boy who’s glued to the Tempest booth. You go to them. Dustin Henderson lights up when he sees you. You can read his hat now; it says Camp Know Where ‘85.

“Hey, Y/N!” he greets brightly. “This guy has been here for a half hour. I left to get nachos and when I came back, he was still here.”

“I’m this close to beating my score!” the kid insists.

“Come on, guy," you say, one arm on the machine. "You gotta give other people a turn."

The kid, evidently demon incarnate, sneers at you.

“Who’s gonna make me? You?” 

You lean against the side of the game, considering.

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen,” he says.

You snort. 

“Sixteen? And you’re still on Tempest?”

He glances at you. 

“So?”

“Everybody your age is playing Rampage, that’s all.” 

You wink at Dustin. He beams.

“And, uh, I saw a couple girls hanging around Rampage,” you add. 

The kid turns to you. You tilt your head innocently. 

“Seriously?” he asks.

“Seriously. People always flock to the new games.”

Which is true. The girls part is not, but he doesn’t need to know that. With that attitude, he won't be getting many phone numbers anyway. 

You drum your fingers on the game like you have all the time in the world. And sure enough, the kid takes his quarters and heads towards Rampage. Dustin jumps in delight. 

“You’re awesome, Y/N!" 

You grin. “I try. Where are the others?”

Dustin sours.

“They ditched me. To hang out with their girlfriends! Can you believe that shit?” 

“No way!"

He shakes his head.

“I know, right? My friend told me that that’s what happens in high school. People change, y’know? And he’d know, I guess. He’s old like you.”

You scoff. “You make me sound like some kind of ancient. I’m not that old, Henderson.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” He pats your arm. “In many cultures, the elderly are wise. Now in my experience, this hasn’t been the case. But I think you’re wise.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Dustin smiles like the little shit he is and puts his change in the slot. 

“Well, contrary to what this other friend says, I’m sure it’ll pass,” you say. “You guys will hang out again." 

You swallow your acidic truth. Dustin's a good kid, and so are his friends. You don't want him to turn cynical like you have. He's too young. 

Dustin shrugs, starting the game.

“I guess so. I got a copy of The Lost Boys for us to watch on Friday. They said they’ll be there.”

“Whoa, seriously? That one just came out, how’d you get a copy?”

“My friend,” he says. “The one I mentioned. He works at Family Video and reserves stuff for me.”

“Huh. I thought Family Video was closed."

You'd applied to work there last year and never got a call back. You'd gone by once and it had looked abandoned. Hence why you now work at the arcade across town. 

"It almost did, but Keith took over so now it's barely scraping by."

"Ah. Sweet deal on the movies."

“Yeah,” Dustin agrees, eyes crinkling. “My friend's pretty cool. You'd like him."

"Would I now?"

"Absolutely," he gushes. "He's a total badass too. He won his first fight last year. He used to be a jock but he's recovered." 

"Wow. Impressive."

"Mmhm. I could ask him to hold stuff for you too, if you wanted.”

“You would?”

The game makes a sad game over noise. Dustin sighs and takes a gulp of his slushie.

“Yeah, totally,” he says through a mouthful of blue raspberry ice. “Which one do you want?”

“Pretty in Pink? I missed it in theaters."

“Sure. I’ll tell him to hold it tonight and tomorrow you can pick it up.”

“Cool. Thanks, Dustin.”

Dustin gives you an apple-cheeked grin.

“Gotta stay in good graces with the arcade attendant who lets me play Tempest as long as I want.”

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, walking away. "Don't get slushie on the game."

"'Kay!"

Dustin only gets a little bit of slushie on the game, but he cleans it up with about a million of the cheap snack bar napkins. When he leaves, he tells you to mention his name at Family. 

"Who do I ask for?" 

"You can talk to either of them," Dustin says. "Doesn't matter. Except Keith. You know Keith, right?"

"Unfortunately.” Keith used to terrorize the arcade before he blessedly moved on. “He works there?"

"Barely." Dustin scoffs. "He's almost never there, so don't worry. And feel free to ask for more movies. They owe me one."

Your sole interactions are with professors and a gaggle of high school freshmen. But now you get to watch any movie you want. Maybe this year won't totally suck. 

The bell rings pleasantly as you step inside. There's a few people on line, so you take your time walking in. There's a movie display with about thirty copies of RoboCop. A cardboard cutout of RoboCop stares back behind his red helmet.

"Can I help who's next?"

You go to the counter. A girl about your age with a choppy haircut smiles at you but it's sort of strained. She has a pin on her green work vest that says Ask me!

"Please don't ask for Adventures in Babysitting," she says. 

"Oh. No, I'm, uh, Dustin's friend?" 

You can't believe you're name-dropping a high schooler. 

She nods in realization. 

"Oh, yeah. God, I keep telling that dweeb not to promise holds."

You wince. 

"Sorry. If it's going to get you in trouble…"

Her brows raise. She smiles a bit. 

"No, it's okay. Usually my coworker deals with it but, well. He's taking an extra long break today. So, what movie was it?"

"Pretty in Pink," you say. 

"Classic," she replies. "John Hughes fan?"

"Somewhat. I didn't get to see it in theaters. I like Molly Ringwald."

She grins.

"Me too. She's pretty."

"Super pretty," you agree. 

The girl considers you, then sticks out her hand. 

"I'm Robin," she says. "Nice to meet you."

You take her hand. "Y/N.”

"Did you go to Hawkins High?"

"I did. Graduated last year."

"Oh, cool. Are you in college?"

You nod. 

"Hawkins State. Twenty minutes from here."

"Sweet! I'm taking a gap year, but afterwards, I’m gonna apply there. It's cheap. College is college, right?"

"College is college," you agree. "But I wish I'd gone away for school."

You don't know why you're telling her this. You've known Robin for all of two minutes. But she seems friendly. And her sense of style is cool. She wears a blue blazer and tie underneath her vest. 

"How come?" she asks. 

"Everybody from Hawkins is there," you say. "And I… I just want a new start."

Robin smiles sympathetically. 

"They're jerks," she says. 

You huff. "Yeah."

You'd turned yourself into a social recluse a million years ago. It's your own damn fault you can't befriend anybody in this town. At least, not anymore. 

Robin types into the computer, then smacks the monitor. She groans. 

"Ugh. Gimme a second," she says. "Stupid technology."

"No problem," you say, smiling. You like her. Maybe you can integrate Family Video into your regular routine, become friends. You can see Robin becoming a good friend. One you wouldn't grow apart from. 

She disappears into the back room. You browse the old releases and stop at Die Hard. This one you saw in theaters. John McClane is a badass. 

You think of Dustin, and his supposedly badass new friend. It's too bad you didn't meet today. Dustin has a good sense about people. If he says so, it's possible you and this friend really would get on. 

The bell rings again. You're slow to look up. The entrance is empty when you do. You keep reading about John McClane's adventures. 

"Have you been waiting long?"

You turn at the new voice. The video slips out of your hand and clatters onto the counter. 

Steve’s hair has grown since you last saw it. He looks different too, though he has yet to break out of his signature church boy polos. There's a smattering of stubble on his jaw. His arms are lean with muscle. He wears a matching work vest like Robin's, name tag printed Steve in blocky font. 

He looks at where you've dropped Die Hard and smiles. 

"This is a good one," he says. "John McClane is a total badass."

You blink.

"Did you want to rent that one?" he continues, meeting your eye. 

"No," you manage. 

"Okay, no problem. Just browsing?" 

He doesn't remember you. 

You stare and stare. Steve leans in, concerned. He's changed, but he hasn't. He's still handsome with his swoopy hair and big, dark eyes, but the Steve you knew wouldn't have been caught dead working at a video store.

And he doesn't remember you. 

"Are you okay?" he asks, sounding genuine.

You take a step back from the counter. The blood roars in your ears. Robin comes back in, Pretty in Pink in hand. She looks at you, then at Steve. 

"Got it!" she tells you. "Computer should work now."

"I have to go," you say. 

You don't look at Steve again, instead focusing on Robin. 

Her brows rise. 

"Oh. Is everything—"

"I forgot my wallet," you blurt. "I can't pay for the movie. Sorry."

"That's okay, we can just—"

You run. The bell chimes over her words. You keep running until you get to the bus stop, three blocks away. 

Only there do you stop to catch your breath. 

And then you cry. 

February 1982

"What do you think about Marie?" 

You look up from your textbook. Steve is doodling in the margins of his notes. You gently prod his arm. He returns to reading but his leg starts to bounce under the table. 

"Marie Iverson?" you ask.

"Yeah." 

Steve glances at you. He pushes his hair back. It had taken him freshman year to get his bearings with all the gels and creams, but now, his hair is a point of pride, always perfectly coiffed. Seniors call him "The Hair" and high-five him in the hallway. You hate it. 

"I don't know. I don't know her that well."

"She's cute." 

"I guess so," you say. 

It's harder to get Steve to focus on homework these days. Last year, he happily made flashcards with you and even bought fancy gel pens to share for your notes. Now, he prefers to talk about girls or—

"I was thinking of asking her out."

The tip of your pencil breaks. You really ought to start using pens, but you don't like being unable to erase. 

"Shit, here. Take mine." 

Steve offers his still perfectly sharpened pencil. You stare at it. 

"Y/N?" 

"Yeah." You take the pencil. "Thanks."

"Sure. So what do you think?" 

"I don't know, Steve. I thought you talked about this stuff with Tommy."

"I would, it's just…" Steve shifts uncomfortably. "He can be rude about it sometimes. He doesn't even get why we're friends, y'know? Doesn't understand why I don't just date you."

Tommy is a moron, but you've said that since last year, and Steve's never listened before. 

"Some people don't get it," you say mildly, because you have an upcoming French test and there's no use in getting upset over Tommy Hagan right now. 

"But you do. And you know about this stuff better than me. Girls and all."

"Just because I'm a girl doesn't mean I know what girls are best for you to date, Steve. It's weird to talk about."

Steve deflates. 

"Oh. Yeah, I guess so. Sorry."

You sigh and rub your temple. 

"I thought you knew all about that," you say, extending an olive branch. "Asking girls out and stuff."

"Well, I mean, I've kissed girls but I've never… you're, like, the only girl I really know."

Something like pride swells in your chest. Selfishly, you want to keep Steve. You don't want to help him if it means losing him. Oh, you're so greedy, aren't you? You watch Steve run off with Tommy and Carol and nameless seniors and seethe, because Steve was yours first. Steve is yours.

"Y/N?"

"Yeah." You give him back his pencil and fish for another one in your bag. "Did you ever think about writing how you feel?" 

"Writing?"

"Yeah, like a poem or a letter."

"I'm terrible at writing," Steve laments. "The letters get all jumbled and I never spell a damn thing right."

He'd told his mom once how letters melt into each other, how b's become d's. She'd taken him to get his eyes checked, and when the doctor said Steve was fine, Deborah Harrington had told her son to stop begging for attention. 

"Someone who really likes you won't care about spelling mistakes, Steve," you tell him. "As long as you write from the heart. Don't do that cheesy shit and quote Romeo and Juliet. They're young, impulsive, and they die at the end, and that's not romantic."

Steve laughs, nose scrunched. 

"What!" you demand. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing, 's just—of course you'd have something to say about quoting Shakespeare."

"It's overdone," you say, crinkling your nose. "And girls would much rather read your own words." 

"So you think I should write Marie a letter?"

"If you really like her," you say. "Only write letters for girls you really like. Otherwise they lose their meaning."

Steve frowns. "I don't know if I should write her a letter, then."

Don't, you want to say. Don't write any of them letters.

You shuffle your papers into a stack. 

"Can we study now?" you ask.

"Oh, sure, yes. Sorry."

"You don't have to keep apologizing, Steve."

He shifts closer to you. His leg has stopped bouncing.

"Lemme take you out," he says. 

You nearly swallow your tongue. 

"Wh–what?"

"For ice cream," Steve clarifies. "Like we used to. Dairy Queen."

"Oh. Okay, sure. But after we study."

Steve beams. "I'll drive you."

Steve's dad had bought him the BMW as a birthday present this year—not that Richard Harrington actually knows when his own son's birthday is, considering the gift was three months early. Still, it's another point of pride for Steve and about all anybody talks about whenever his name comes up. Steve is the only person in your grade with a car. Junior girls hit him up for rides. You make yourself scarce when they do. 

You don't care. You liked Steve before the car. And the clothes. And the hair. 

Your throat feels tight. You want your best friend back. 

"Just us?" you check. 

You can't tell these days. Steve seems to hang out with everybody but you. You're shocked he'd even asked to study together. 

"Oh, sure," Steve says. "I just have to drop off Tommy and Carol first, okay?" 

You check your watch and close your book. 

"I have class," you lie. "I'll see you later." 

Steve catches your wrist. He looks at you and you're struck by how sweet his face is. It's not like you didn't understand why girls want him but it's Steve. Your Steve, who still sleeps with a nightlight and who framed a picture of a sports car he cut out from a magazine because he'd thought it would make him cooler (it didn't. You still tease him about it.) 

"Please," he says. "For helping me."

Your eyes slit. "I didn't help you to get stuff, Steve. I helped you because you're my friend."

Steve blinks like he's forgotten what it's like to be friends with someone just for the sake of being friends. 

"You're right," he agrees. "You're not like that. I'll tell Tommy and Carol to find another ride. It'll be just us. I promise."

You perk up at that. "Really?"

"Really. You can sit in the front with me and we'll play Bruce Springsteen, like we used to. Please?" 

"Okay, Steve." You ache. You’ve never been very good at telling him no. "I'll meet you in the parking lot."

And maybe… maybe your best friend is still in there after all.

Now

You ask your shift manager if you can work at the snack bar today. It's in the back and you won't have to deal with any game hogs. 

"You didn't put enough syrup in my slushie."

You might have overshot the perks, though. 

Slushie Girl's hair is bleach blonde and hairsprayed to God. You want to tell her that all that hairspray doesn't keep friends. Or brain synapses. 

"I don't make the slushie," you say for the third time. "That's how it comes out of the machine."

She shoots you a mean look. 

"I'm complaining to the manager."

You paste on a smile. 

"You do that. Have a nice day."

She finally walks away, probably on the hunt for your manager, who's definitely smoking a joint outside to avoid this exact situation. 

Dustin comes around the corner and this time, he's with the rest of his party. You smile. 

"Hey, Y/N!" Dustin greets.

Lucas waves at you. Max and Mike are arguing and therefore are in their own world. And there's their newest addition, El, whose story you're still not clear on, as well as Will, quiet as always. 

You lean your elbows on the countertop. 

"What'll it be, gang?"

"Six nachos and six slushies, please. One blue raspberry, three cherry, and two Coke."

You fill up the slushies first. Dustin dances on his toes. 

"So did you pick up the movie?" he asks.

"Oh." You try to smile. "I went there but I couldn't. I forgot my money. Pretty dumb of me."

Dustin accepts this with no argument. 

"Well, you can go back. They'll hold it for a few days."

You're never setting foot in there again, but you don't tell Dustin that. 

He takes his slushie and immediately starts drinking. 

"Slow down, dude. You'll get a brain freeze," you say. 

"You sound like Steve," Dustin informs you. "Doesn't Y/N sound like Steve?" 

Lucas nods. 

"Yup. They're both parents."

You feel queasy. You focus on making the nachos, the cheese pouring out thick and gooey. 

"Did you meet Steve?" Dustin asks. "You probably know him from high school, but he's different now."

"Yes," you say quietly. "I knew him."

"I promise he's different. Even Mike likes him, and Mike hated his guts. Right, Mike?"

Mike pauses in his animated discussion with Max and looks at you. 

"What?"

"I'm telling Y/N about how Steve is cool now," Dustin explains. 

"Oh." Mike shrugs. "He's fine. Much better now that he's not dating my sister."

"He's not?" you ask. "But they were in love. I–I mean, that's what I heard, at least."

"She dumped his ass," El says, and it sounds a little ridiculous in her soft monotone. 

Max scoffs, taking her Coke slushie. 

"Did you live under a rock? It was a huge thing."

"Now Steve is lame," Mike says with a snort. 

"Getting dumped doesn't make somebody lame," you say with an old ferocity you'd thought had disappeared. 

"Okay, jeez." Mike holds up his hands. "Steve's alright. He's different, that's for sure."

"He's our paladin," Lucas says. "A protector." 

Dustin nods eagerly.

You blink. "He protects you guys?"

Max elbows Lucas. You have no idea what that's about. El steps forward and smiles softly. 

"Yes," she says. "He's our babysitter."

"Aren't you guys freshmen? I thought you were too old for babysitters."

"Oh no, Steve doesn't get paid for it or anything," says Mike. "He just does it 'cause he has nothing else to do."

"That's not true!" Dustin argues. Then he shrugs. "Well, it's a little true. But he does like us. He's a good guy. He cares about his friends."

You bite your tongue, not wanting to reply to that. 

"That's great, guys. The girl, Robin? She seems pretty cool too."

"That's Steve's best friend," says Dustin. "She's great."

"Oh." You wince. "Best friend?" 

Dustin huffs. “Yeah. They don’t date. He won’t say why."

"Platonic with a capital P," Max confirms. “It’s obviously because he’s in love with somebody else.”

“Not Nancy!” Lucas protests.

“There are other girls besides Nancy, Sinclair.”

You busy yourself with serving the last set of nachos. The kids pull out crumpled bills and coins in return. You count the money and stack it directly into the register; you know there won't be any change. 

When you turn, they're still there. Dustin has his signature grin on, eyes squinty. 

"Yeees," you drag out. "Can I help you?"

"We need a favor," Lucas says. "Please."

"Hmm." You lean over the counter. "What's up?"

"They're showing Prince of Darkness on Friday," Dustin explains. "But it's rated R."

"So just sneak in. Isn't that what you guys did at Starcourt?" you ask.

"We had an inside man then. They're a lot stricter at the new one," Lucas frowns. "They ask for IDs 'cause some mom complained after her kid snuck in to watch Risky Business." 

"And why can't your babysitter take you?"

You sneer at the thought. Steve spending his Friday nights herding a bunch of adolescent teens into a movie theater. There's a reason you consider Dustin affectionately delusional. 

"He has a stupid date," Dustin groans. "He's a serial dater, Y/N. It's terrible. He gets lucky once and totally ditches us."

Now that sounds like the Steve you knew. 

"I see. I don't really like horror stuff."

"You don't have to stay!" Dustin insists. "You can watch whatever you want after we’re in. I'll pay you back for the ticket."

“This would be so much easier if Steve still worked at Scoops,” Mike grumbles.

You blank for a moment, the image of Steve in a sailor’s hat and those ridiculous shorts whiting your brain.

“Um,” you begin. “You know I don’t have a fancy BMW to cart you guys around in, right?”

“It’s cool. We’ll get there,” Max says.

“So?” Dustin bounces on his toes. “Sooo?”

You sigh. It’d been nice of Dustin to get you the movie, even though you’d chickened out and ran. And it’s not like you have anything better to do.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll get you guys in.”

Dustin pumps his fist. “Thanks, Y/N! You’re my favorite old person.”

You roll your eyes. “Funny. Any funnier, and I might rescind my help, Henderson.”

“Byeeee!”

They all disperse to the arcade. You wonder how on earth Steve got involved with them.

March 1983

“Okay, but if you had to choose.”

“Pass. I would literally rather swallow pennies than kiss Principal Coleman’s bald-ass head, Steve.”

Steve takes a triumphant swig of beer. “So you’re saying you’ve got the hots for Benny the janitor.”

“No!” you insist through giggles. “I don’t. God, you’re gross. Can’t believe I’m being treated like this on your birthday.”

“Exactly! My birthday.”

He rolls onto his side in his deck chair and nearly faceplants on the cement. You reach out, reaction time delayed.

“Steve!” you yell. “Careful.”

“I am, I am,” he mumbles, and rights himself on the chair. “Jus’ wanna see you better.”

“I keep telling you you need glasses.”

“I do not,” he whines. “My vision’s ten outta ten. Could a guy who needs glasses do this?”

He crumples up a Twinkies wrapper and throws it towards the garbage. The wind picks up and sends the wrapped into the pool. 

“Shit,” he says.

You belly laugh in delight.

“Wait, wait, redo. Go fish it outta there.”

“Oh, as if. I’m not going in there. I told you you need glasses. Even Mother Nature agrees.”

"She does not. Mother Nature thinks I'm a doll."

You hum and close your eyes. Alcohol always makes you sleepy. 

The chair scrapes against the concrete. You hear a crinkle of a chip bag. Those are your only warning before you’re crushed by two hundred pounds of drunk boy. 

“Steve!” You wheeze, squirming as his hair tickles your face. “Get off!”

"’M sleepy,” he mumbles.

“Well, don't sleep on me, weirdo.”

“‘S cold.”

“You run, like, a hundred degrees, don’t lie.”

He lifts his head. “So you’re saying I’m hot?”

“I’m saying all that booze cooked your brain,�� you reply sweetly.

“I’ve been wounded,” he moans and plops onto your shoulder.

“Ugh.” You resign to your fate and lean back. Steve’s not actually that heavy; even drunk, he has a lot of control over his weight and he’s situated himself so he isn’t crushing anything important. No, you squirm underneath him for a very different reason. 

“Steeeeve,” you whine. “You’re gonna squish me into a pancake.”

“Can’t believe no one else came.”

You still. Steve’s face remains buried in your shoulder. His body is beside yours, and he has an arm slung over your belly.

“I didn’t—didn’t want a party,” he continues. “I always throw parties. I thought I’d do somethin’ different. An’ none of them even wished me a happy birthday. ‘Cept you.”

You rest your hand on the back of his hair. It’s wind-blown and messy from the drinks, free of his heady hair gel. You’ve never loved it more.

“Did you tell them your birthday is today?” you ask gently, even though you know he did.

“Yeah,” he says. “Told all of ‘em. Guess they weren’t listening.”

“I listen.”

Steve looks up at you. His eyes are glassy.

“God, I miss you,” he says.

You feel the wall you’ve built this year crumble, just a little. 

“I’m right here, Steve.”

“I know but—been a jerk lately. I know I have. You’re my best friend, okay? Nothing’ll change that. I–I love you so much.”

Your breath hitches. Steve barrels on, not noticing.

“And I’ll be better. We’ll hang out more. Not–not here, drunk. But for real. We’ll go to the movies. Y’wanna see a movie?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I wanna see a movie.”

“‘Kay, what movie? Anything you want. We’ll get popcorn and Raisinets.”

“You hate Raisinets,” you choke through a watery laugh.

“I’d eat Raisinets anytime with you.”

You lay there, in the dark, the only sound being the pool filter.

“Let’s watch the new James Bond.”

“Hmm, okay. But you’ll have to say the name eventually.”

Your nose crinkles. “I am not calling it by its name.”

His laugh is warm in your neck. 

You don’t tell Steve to get up again. He snuggles into you, leg over yours. You fall asleep like that, curled underneath him.

Now

“Wait.” Max stops. “Shouldn’t we have, like, a game plan?”

“Game plan?” El asks quietly.

“Yeah. Some of us aren’t so great at playing it cool.”

She stares at Lucas.

“I play it cool!” he squawks. “I am so cool!”

“Right.”

“Just let Y/N do the talking,” Will says. “She’s technically the adult so she should act like this is a conscious choice.”

You shrug. “Makes sense to me.”

Dustin beams. “This is gonna be great!”

“Or a total disaster,” Max says.

You go to the counter, the kids trailing behind like ducklings.

“Six tickets for Prince of Darkness, please,” you say. “And uh, one for Dirty Dancing.”

The attendant looks at you, then at the kids.

“Don’t you mean seven tickets for Prince of Darkness?” she asks. “It’s rated R.”

Shit. “Right, yes. Sorry. Seven tickets. And one for Dirty Dancing. We have another friend who’s late.”

“Uh-huh.” 

The attendant, whose bored expression you’ve recognized on your own face after long days in the arcade, hands you your tickets without any questioning. 

“I think we’re in the clear,” Lucas whispers when you enter the concession area. 

You wait for them to buy their snacks. Max persuades Lucas to let her mix M&Ms into their bucket of popcorn. He agrees and shuffles closer so they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder while they share. 

“Okay, last stretch,” Mike says, shoveling a frighteningly large handful of sour worms into his mouth. “We just have to get past the ticket guy.”

Said ticket guy is a kid who can’t be much older than you. You think you might’ve gone to school together, but you’ve made it a point to eviscerate everything about high school from your mind.

“Hey,” you say, trying to act cool. Maybe you’re the one Max should’ve been worried about, instead of Lucas. “Uh, here are our tickets.”

He takes the tickets, then looks behind you.

“Prince of Darkness is only for people seventeen and older,” he says.

“I’m an adult, so I’m with them,” you explain. “I’m, like, their guardian?”

“Yeah, uh—” He hands you your tickets. “No can do. There needs to be an adult for each person under seventeen.”

“Come on,” you cajole. “They’re high schoolers. It’s not like they’re gonna be scarred for life watching some zombies, or whatever.”

He shrugs. “Rules are rules.”

“She’s an adult!” Dustin argues.

“Look, if you’re gonna hold up the line, I’m gonna have to—”

“Yo, Gillespie! That you?”

Dustin turns and lights up. The seven of you part for Steve Harrington and his date, a pretty strawberry blonde you think you had biology with.

“Harrington, man, what’s up!” 

Ticket Prick gets up to slam Steve into a bear hug. You barely resist an eye roll.

“Shit, I haven’t seen you in a year! Where’ve you been all this time? Hey, did you hear about that shit with Munson?”

Steve flinches. It’s a tiny movement, indiscernible to the trained eye. But it’s there all the same.

“Gillespie, c’mon. Don’t bring the party down with that,” Steve says, all sweet charm. 

“Sorry, sorry. Daisy,” he greets the girl attached to Steve’s arm.

“Gil,” she replies with a giggle. “You smell like popcorn butter.”

America’s future taxpayers. Terrifying. 

“Are you gonna let us in or not?” Max interrupts, arms folded. 

You feel a burst of pride.

Gil shoots her a dirty glare and puffs up, ready to fight a fourteen year old. Steve cuts in smoothly.

“Gillespie, listen. I know her.” He points to you. You bristle. “I can personally vouch that she’s just trying to do right by these kids. They wanted to see Prince of Darkness, y’know? Get away from the parents.”

“It’s a sick film,” Gil agrees. “You seen it?”

No, of course Steve hadn’t seen it. He hates horror. 

“Planning on it,” Steve says, the ultimate image of playing it cool. “Look, you remember sneaking into the movies. Fast Times? Ring any bells?”

Max rolls her eyes. You’re inclined to do the same.

Gil laughs dopily, and nudges Steve. “Hell yeah, I do. That was a crazy night, Harrington.”

Steve smiles thinly. “Sure was. So whaddya say? For old times’ sake?”

Gil considers your little troupe. Then he shrugs.

“Why not. Manager’s not here anyway.”

He takes the tickets and tears them to stubs, then gives them back.

“Theater six. On your left. Enjoy.”

The kids stampede into the left theater wing. You hang back with your own ticket. 

“Appreciate it, man,” Steve says, all smiles. “Take care, alright?”

“Hey, you too, Harrington! We gotta catch up!”

Steve and Daisy go in. You expect them to walk right past you, and Daisy does, predictably. But Steve stops.

“I’ll catch up, okay?” he tells her. “Find us some good seats?”

She paws at him a little, then goes, sodas in hand. You stiffen as Steve walks and stops three feet away from you. 

“Hey,” he says. “Sorry about that. Gil’s an asshole.”

“I know. He yawned during my poetry reading sophomore year. And then you guys went to the movies together.”

Steve shrinks. “Your poems were great.”

You’re suddenly exhausted.

“What do you want, Steve?”

“I just… I wanted to see you. Say hi.”

“Okay.” You cross your arms. “Hi.”

“You forgot your movie,” he says. “The other day.”

“I didn’t want it that much.”

“Dustin said you looked everywhere for it.”

“Well, in the end, it didn’t really matter,” you say. “Not enough to stay.”

“Y/N—”

“I think your date’s waiting for you,” you interrupt. “Better get back to her. Wouldn’t want to taint your reputation.”

Steve makes a noise like he’s been wounded. You turn on your heel before you can think better of it. 

“Wait.” He catches your wrist. Steve’s grip is light, like you’re something precious to hold. You wrench your arm away. “Y/N, I want to apologize. I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you ask. “For forgetting me? I didn’t expect you to remember, Steve.”

“I didn’t forget you,” he insists. “I could never forget you. I wasn’t—please, can I just explain?”

“I don’t need your explanations,” you snap. The hurt corrodes your tongue like acid. “I know what happened. We were both there. You left.”

Steve’s eyes are huge and dark. He looks like you just stabbed him in the heart, and that makes you feel worse. You’d thought telling him how much it hurts would put you back together, but all it did was break you more.

So you run. Again. 

You slam through a back exit and rip your ticket into a million pieces. The wind is cold and unforgiving. Your eyes sting. 

You call out sick for two days in a row. You kind of expect to get fired, but then again, people have been leaving Hawkins and if you’re not here to serve the masses their slushies, who will be?

So, after lying in bed not thinking about movies and strawberry blonde girls and how sick you are of this town, you get up and put on your arcade vest.

Now it is two in the afternoon. You’d heard it was supposed to snow today.

Robin eyes the snack counter like it holds the next plague outbreak. You don't blame her; you make it a point to wash up to your elbows after work.

"Slushie?"

She looks at you like she’d forgotten you were there. "What?"

You point a thumb at the machine. "Are you here for a slushie?"

"Oh. No, sorry. Red dye makes me insane in the brain. Steve actually—"

Robin stops, grimaces. So he's told her. Probably everything, if the kids had been telling the truth. 

You're honestly surprised she's here. Unless it’s to, like, swirlie you in the vat of artificial cheese. 

"Are you here to drown me in nacho cheese?" you ask.

Robin's eyes go wide as dinner plates. "What? No!"

"Just checking." You lean against the counter. "What can I do for you, Robin?" 

Robin suddenly looks like she's never interacted with a human being before. You like her a lot. Steve probably does too. 

"I came to drop off your movie." She holds the tape over the counter like it's a pool of lava. 

"But I didn't pay for it." You shove your hand in your jean pocket; you only have a couple dollars on you. "I guess I can get you the money tom—"

"It's on the house. For a fellow Molly fan."

Robin wiggles the tape with two fingers. You take it and wait for a catch. There is none. 

"Thank you," you say. "You didn't have to do that."

"Actually, it wasn't me," she confesses. "I'm just the mailman."

You prepare to hand it back but Robin shakes her head. 

"He's not going to pop out of the slushie machine, okay? He's just trying to make it up to you."

"He doesn't need to make it up to me," you bite, except those aren’t the words you mean. "Why does he even care? We're not in high school anymore."

Robin smiles a sad smile. 

"I know," she says. "We’re not. I know he should've known to fix things earlier. He's received a lot of blows to the head, though, so he's still catching up."

The thought turns your stomach. More? More you weren’t there to protect him from?

"He doesn't owe me anything," you say and wave the tape again. "You can take it back and leave it for somebody else."

"Y/N, I know we don't know each other, like, at all. But it's important to me you know that Steve cares about you, because you’re important to him. And you knew him way before I did, and you probably know a lot of stuff I don't, and that's good because he has a friend like me, but he should also have a friend like you too, Y/N."

"I don't want to be his friend," you mumble. 

"Yeah," Robin says. "I figured. But I don't think that's a confession he should hear secondhand."

You look at her, stunned. She's such a clever girl. You hope she treats Steve well.

"If you two are—"

"We're not," she says, like this is a regular explanation she goes through. "Steve and I are friends. Steve has crashed and burned with every single date since his fall from regency. Steve is the best person I've ever met." 

"Yeah, I’ve heard. You and Dustin are his biggest fans."

Robin snorts. "Trust me, I'm not proud of it."

You shake your head. Your eyes feel hot. 

"This town is so shit," you say. 

"Yeah," Robin agrees. "It really fucking is. But I'm not asking you to give this town a second chance. Just him."

"Why are you trying so much?" you ask. "You don't even know me."

Robin shrugs. "No, but you're the one person Steve used to be friends with who's not an asshole, and I think us non-assholes need to band together."

"I can sometimes be an asshole."

"Me too. So are those little dweebs. How about calling ourselves the Semi-Assholes Club?" 

You laugh. "We'll get jackets."

"With partially drawn butts on the backs," Robin says with a giggle. 

You look at the tape in your hand. 

"Does Steve like John Hughes?" 

"He does. He's a total sap for those. He thinks he's in his own coming-of-age movie because he's delusional."

He sounds perfect. He sounds like the friend you loved. 

"I did want to watch this one," you say. 

"It won't hurt you to," Robin promises. 

You suppose not.

December 1984

You don't believe the whispers. All week, the rumor mill spins tales of Billy Hargrove finally pushing the King off his throne. There's no way he'll show his face, a girl at the adjacent lunch table astutes. I sure as fuck wouldn't.

Steve Harrington is a loser. Steve Harrington got dumped for Jonathan Byers. Steve Harrington may as well be dead, and on and on. 

Every line gets you angrier. A boy who sits behind you in chemistry taps his pencil like he always does. Tap, tap, tap. 

Halfway through class, you snap at him to quit it. He does, but not without a tinge of embarrassment. You’re so angry this year. Angry at your loneliness, angry at the unfairness of said loneliness. You might’ve done this to yourself, and that fact only gets you angrier.

You see Nancy Wheeler in the hallways with Jonathan Byers, and the confirmation of that rumor should make you happy. It doesn't. 

A week later, most of the excitement has died down. Everybody’s moved onto the next big thing, which is to deduce who fucked in Vice Principal White's office. One look at V.P. White, and it had been decided that it can't have been White himself. 

You can't care less. Once upon a time you might’ve laughed about it with a friend, but you don't have any more of those, and high school is bullshit with or without them. So.

Steve walks in twenty five minutes into the period. Mrs. Kaplan gives him a downright beastly glare and demands to know where he had been. 

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "If you give me detention, I understand."

There are a few snickers that rub at an old hurt, one that had flared up whenever somebody dared to make fun of your best friend. It doesn't bother me, he'd said, and you'd known it was a lie. 

It bothers me, you’d replied, and Steve had hugged you tight.

Mrs. Kaplan seems more stunned Steve hadn't swaggered past her like a peacock escaped from the zoo and lets him go sit down without a fight. He takes the only empty desk, two rows across from you. You stare. You can't not. 

Half of his face looks like it was mashed in a garbage disposal. It's purple and a sickly yellow. His eye and lip are still swollen. You stare and stare. You feel queasy. 

Billy had done that. You're so angry. You think you might never get past this grief, this loss of a once permanent fixture in your life. 

No one wished Steve a happy birthday this year, you realize out of nowhere.

You stare and stare and stare until Steve looks right back. You're blindsided by thick guilt, like blinking through a milkshake. And then the familiar curl of anger returns because why the fuck should you feel guilty? You aren't the one who fucked everything up, who mascerated this good thing. Steve did this to himself. Steve deserves to walk the halls alone. It's Steve's fault. 

But when you look at him, at his raw wounds, at his bruised knuckles, you know that he already believes he deserves every punch Billy Hargrove gave him. 

You hate Steve Harrington. But you really wish you'd been there to drive him to the hospital. 

Now (And Forever)

The tape sits buried in your drawer for three days. You don’t know what Family Video’s return policy is, but you hope you’re not racking up late fees. You doubt name dropping Dustin will work again.

It’s Saturday when you decide to watch Pretty in Pink. You remove the video from its sleeve. An envelope falls out.

The front has your name printed in squished, loopy script. You remember January at Steve’s house, a stack of thank-you cards courtesy of his mother awaiting the Harringtons’ sign-off. Steve’s hand would cramp and you’d take over while he made grilled cheese for the both of you. Love, The Harringtons, and there was no love in that house, but you think maybe Steve loved enough to make up for it. 

Hi, the letter begins. I hope you’re good. Robin told me you’re going to Hawkins State.

That’s fucking amazing. I’m so proud of you. Are you still writing poetry? I liked that one you wrote about the birds who shared a branch and kept each other warm. I still have it in my notebook in my room.

I’m sorry for the other night. I’m sorry for every night since freshman year, honestly. I’m kind of a dumbass, but you know that, so it doesn’t really excuse anything. I think I’ve actually lost brain cells since we drifted apart.

You crumple the corner, suddenly hot with anger. Who keeps telling him he’s dumb? You want names.

I didn’t forget you, you know. I got scared and I thought maybe I could ease into it, but then you recognized me and… well. I don’t blame you for running.

Anyway. I’m talking too much about myself, when there’s nothing to say. I’m really sorry about what I did, or, actually, what I didn’t do. Somebody told me I was living on autopilot, and that it wasn’t really living at all. I think it was you. 

I’m not living on autopilot anymore. I woke up. And I realized that you’re the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me. I love Robin and the kids and this little family that has apparently invayd invaded your life too. Sorry about that. They never leave and they eat all your food. Good luck. 

But I miss you. I always have.

Shit happened these last few years that I’ll tell you about one day, if you want. I’d rather not, though, because you’ve always been the paranoiac (like that one? Robin said it’s an SAT word) of the two of us and I feel like this would just make you even more of one. But I will tell you, if you want to hear it. I want to tell you everything. I want you to tell me everything too. Like we used to.

I want you to tell me how college is going. Who the annoying jerks in your classes are so I can go beat them up (kidding). I want you to stop by to rent movies so I can lend them for free and you’ll yell at me about taking advantage of fre friendships. 

Fuck, I miss you. It’s always been there, bubbling below the surface. I never stopped missing you. I never stopped loving you. I’m sorry I didn’t write this sooner. I know you said writing is how we express things we can’t say. You were right. You always are. Can’t believe I forgot that. 

It’s okay if you don’t want to be friends. I mean, it hurts, but I respect it. I understand. Most days, I can’t believe people can bear to be around me. But then I hear your voice in my head, telling me that most people are shitheads and that I’m golden and. Well, I don’t know if I believe that, but you were right that most of the people I surrounded myself with were shitheads. Except you, of course. And then I went ahead and fucked that up.

I’ve been working on finding the non-shitheads of the world. I think I’m doing pretty well. And I wrote this because I realized that while I will probably end up buried in this fucking town, you’re going to do something incredible. And nothing incredible ever happens in Hawkins, so I figure you’ll be far away when you do it. 

I didn’t want to miss this chance to write things I never said. So here they are. And you can do whatever you want with them. You’ve always been the best of the two of us. I trust you.

You should watch Dirty Dancing. You’ll like it. I did. I’ll see it again if you want. I’ll watch anything with you.

Did you know there’s another Bond movie coming out in the summer? We could watch that one together too. If you wanted more time to decide.

Sincer

Lo

Your friend,

Steve

You don’t bother ejecting the tape. You run all the way to the bus stop, Steve’s letter in hand. 

You have to see him. No other thoughts register except that one. You have to know if Steve wrote these words because he can’t say them or because you won’t listen.

It isn’t too late when you get to Loch Nora. The neighborhood is dead, which is weird. Steve’s house looks frozen in time: his parents’ car isn’t in the driveway. You wonder if they’ve ever come back since you’ve been gone. You wouldn't be surprised if the answer is no.

There’s a tarp over the pool. The gate is locked with a chain. You can’t sneak in through the fence like you used to. Not that you would. You don’t think strangers can sneak through pool gates.

You knock on the door three times. And wait.

Steve’s car is in the driveway, a duller burgundy than when he first got it. There are a few scratches in the paint. No longer a prized possession. Maybe well-loved instead.

The door swings open. 

Steve says your name like a prayer. You swallow and steel your spine. 

“I got your letter,” you say.

“Oh.” He rubs the back of his neck. His hair is damp like he’s just showered. It curls around his ears. Waves of want hit you. 

“I don’t want to be friends,” you continue before he can speak. “I don’t—I can’t do that again.”

Steve’s mouth draws into the saddest frown you’ve ever seen.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Thank you for telling me.”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, that’s not—I don’t mean it like that.”

His brows knit. “What?”

“I…” You pull out the letter and wave it. “Did you mean it? Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Steve whispers. It’s like a shout in the quiet street. “I meant it.”

“Like a friend?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Will you love me like a friend forever?” you ask. 

“Always.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I love you as something more,” you blurt, watery. “I have for a long time.”

You hear the door shut. This is it: your heart on the line, all for nothing—

“Then I’ll love you as something more back,” Steve says. “I’ll love you any way you want me to.”

And he holds you the way you’d held him so many times. You inhale and wrap your arms around his neck. You’ve got an iron grip around the letter. Tears slip down your cheeks.

“I missed you,” you confess.

Steve nods against your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he says, and it sounds a little wet. “I missed you too.”

“You were wrong,” you say into his neck.

“Hmm?”

You pull back to look at Steve.

“Incredible things do happen in Hawkins.”

“Oh, yeah?” Steve smiles, cheeks blotchy. “Like what?”

“We found each other again.”

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington angst #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #friends to strangers to lovers

[mayfieldss]

ok idk who this could be with, but fic idea: fake dating trope inspired by the song 'hate to be lame' by lizzy mcalpine and finneas... it has POTENTIAL.!!

Hate to be lame, but I might love you | Steve Harrington

BABE THIS CONCEPT IS SO </3 POTENTIAL INDEED!!! I'm gonna admit I went wayyy off track from the song and kind of just went feral with the concept of fake dating Steve.

"You're hands are sweaty."

"Yeah, well, so are yours."

"That's because my hand is covered in the sweat from your sweaty hand." your voice comes as a sharp whisper that only Steve can hear as you walk toward your friends not two days after your little agreement.

"Oh shut up."

"Why do we have to hold hands anyway?"

"Because that's what couples do, trust me I'm the expert." Steve nudges your side with his elbow, and you push back harder, making him flinch.

"Yeah, because you've had such successful past relationships." You're grumbling and acting more like a child as the regret sinks in. Why you'd agreed to this even to assist the romance between your two friends was beyond you. There were far easier ways to get the same result.

"That was a low blow." Steve sounds only slightly deflated but his energy returns as the rest of your friends begin to notice the intertwined fingers and the smiles you're sending them, that while fake, are convincing enough.

"Hey, this is new!" It's Dustin, always the first to voice an opinion, and he's eyeing the both of you as though he's Sherlock Holmes inspecting a fresh crime scene. "Is this a cute thing or a friend thing?" he's frowning, and you offer up an answer.

"Can't a friend thing be a cute thing also?"

"So it's a friend thing?" Dustin raises a brow and looks to Steve. For a second you swear they have some sort of silent and private conversation before Steve interjects with words that seem to startle the entire group surrounding you.

"No, it's not a friend thing." He moves his hand from yours, opting to drape his arm over your shoulder, making a show whilst you wipe your hand discreetly on your shorts.

"Surprise..??" the word comes strained from your lips and you are thankful for the fact that Steve is such a charmer. Whilst he's been more than a bad liar in the past he seems like a professional actor now, award-winning even as he sells your relationship to the group.

Your first kiss in his car one day after work, and first date at the small bakery down the street from your house. The way he'd been crushing on you since he saw you beat the hell out of some Demogorgons to defend the kids, and just how happy you were together. How he was so convincing you didn't know, but you almost found yourself believing him for parts of it, as if you didn't already know the truth. It was all fake, a ruse put together so that Steve could convince Robin and Nancy that he had in fact moved on. A perfectly crafted fake relationship so that Robin and Nancy could finally get together and feel guilt free.

"Well, I can't say I didn't see it coming." It's Dustin again, forever the speechmaker, and the smile on his lips is unbearably sweet. He's oblivious, it seems, and it occurs to you then that the little scheme you and Steve put together might have some negative impacts. Dustin cared about Steve in the way a little brother looks up to the older sibling, or perhaps the way a son looked up to a father, and maybe it wasn't so good for the boy to get attached to the idea of Steve finally finding some romantic peace. After all, it was nothing romantic of the sort, and whilst the game you had going wouldn't affect Dustin directly, it did seem that he was excited over the concept of you and Steve together.

Despite these thoughts, you find yourself moving an arm around Steve's waist, leaning into him as if it were real, because if you were doing this, you were sure as hell gonna do it right. Dustin smiles, somehow wider than before, before moving off to meet the other younger members of the group. Robin eyes the two of you from a distance, with something of a confused yet proud expression, and you hope that for whatever reason, she believes the show you're putting on.

When you feel Steve's breath against your ear, the shivers that run down your spine are barely controlled. "Good job." it's a whisper as he squeezes your shoulder, "I'm gonna go get us some drinks."

And with that, he walks away, leaving you to wonder how exactly this is going to work.

It goes well for the most part and soon you start to see changes in Robin and Nancy's behavior toward each other. They seem closer, more interested now that Robin's not afraid to make a move on the girl Steve had once been so hung up on.

But you can't deny that in private it has become somewhat awkward between you and Steve. Something changed over the past few weeks of pretending and you're not quite sure where it all went wrong, but the teasing relationship you'd once had was now evaporating before your eyes.

Steve currently had an arm over your shoulder as he sat beside you in the old bakery café where he had claimed you'd had your first kiss to the rest of the group. The old leather booth was supposedly filled with the fondest of memories for the both of you, though in truth you had never entered the place until today.

"You two really do make a hot couple." It's Robin leaning her elbows on the table from the booth across from you and Steve, Nancy at her side though they sit further apart.

"I second this," Nancy smiles, a wide and sweet expression that makes you really believe her. And suddenly you feel bad for lying to them both.

"Here," Before you can dwell on the feeling, Nancy's pulled out an old camera, one she was gifted by Jonathan back when they were something of a pair themselves. She still keeps it close, and she'd planned to use it for some journalism work later in the day, but it seems she's willing to waste some of the camera's potential now.

"Smile you two." She's peering into the camera, and instinctively you lean into Steve, smiling for the shot. But that doesn't seem to appease either Robin or the eldest Wheeler sibling, both of them scheming to create the best memories for you both.

"C'mon Steve," Robin instructs, "Give her a kiss for the camera." Steve does so hesitantly, pressing a short peck to your cheek and waiting for the camera to click, but nothing happens.

When he looks up he finds both Nancy and Robin chuckling before Nancy herself begins to speak. "Look, Steve, I know you're trying to be polite because, well, we used to be something—but I really don't mind if you two kiss. I'm happy for you both, and I assure you I've moved on." She spares a glance to Robin and it would have been sweet if you weren't panicking deep inside. You had yet to kiss Steve at all and the plan had been that you would never have to but now that your excuse seemed to be up in flames you weren't sure what to do, or say.

Steve didn't seem at all bothered, and maybe that should have concerned you more than it did, but honestly, you were grateful for the confidence he held when yours was nowhere to be found.

"Yeah, you're right. We didn't want to cause any drama with, you know," Steve gestures between himself and you, "Us."

"But that's the thing!" Nancy exclaims in a rather Robin-like fashion. (Perhaps the girl was rubbing off on her a little too much.) "I'm happy for you, and I really don't mind." She raises the camera again, a smile tugging at her lips as Robin shuffles a little closer to peak through the lens with her. "Do some cute couple shit for the camera. You may kiss your girlfriend." Robin says, and a nervous laugh escapes you as Steve locks his eyes with yours. it's a look that speaks,'You really wanna do this?' and 'We can back out now if you want.' all at once, but there's something else there that you can't quite decode.

You nod in response to his silent question, however, and it takes a moment before either of you can get up the guts to do anything at all. Steve leans in first, slow and steady, and you know he notices the breath that catches in your throat. His lips so close, his hair just barely brushing your forehead as he moves downward, his face inching ever closer to yours. But he stops, and it seems as if time itself does too, when Mike Wheeler bursts into the bakery, tall frame and skinny limps carrying him through the door and toward the booth at which the four of you sit.

"Nancy, god it took forever to find you! Mom's going crazy over dinner tonight and—" It all seems to fade off. Mike is still talking but you block him out, a ringing in your ears replacing his words as you wonder what could have happened had a few more seconds passed before the boys' arrival.

Either way, it would have meant nothing, because you don't like Steve like that, and you never will. Right?

Steve is sitting, brows furrowed beside you, staring at your figure as you watch Mike Wheeler ramble on about something Nancy needs to come home for. You don't seem to be listening and he doesn't blame you because honestly, he doesn't know if he is either, but he wonders what you are thinking about.

He's certainly thinking about things he shouldn't be.

But soon Nancy stands, and Robin follows suit and they say something that the both of you ignore. And they leave, as you wave them goodbye, and they say they'll be in touch. All of a sudden you're sat next to Steve, alone with a chocolate chip muffin between you.

"That was a close one don't you think?" It's you who says it and your voice startles Steve. You see him jump, and then adjust himself to sit like the cool high school heartthrob he had once been.

"Real close, sorry." the apology is genuine, and Steve pauses, looking around the bakery. "You wanna get out of here?"

You manage a nod, shuffling from the booth awkwardly. "Let's go."

"Did you want me to drop you home?" Steve's leaning on the side of his car as he watches you, waiting. He looks so different somehow, changed from the teenager you would sit next to in the chemistry lab. He hadn't spoken to you much at all back then, and you would do all the hard work for the passing grades, but now he seems....lost.

You suppose fighting interdimensional monsters can do that to a person. That kind of thing changes a perspective for sure, and the look in his eyes can be thrown down to such a concept.

"Sure," you go to say more, but decide against it as Steve moves around the car to open the passenger side door for you. The kind of thing you had yet to experience for a long time. When he gets behind the wheel he's focused, staring out the windshield.

"So, I'll drop you home." it's awkward, unsure and it's hard to find a response.

"Well, I don't know what else we're supposed to do."

Steve clears his throat, tongue darting out to wet his lips. "We could go to work—your work I mean, show off a little to the kid at the checkout. The one you have a crush on."

"He's literally the same age as us Steve. Stop calling him a kid." with your arms folded over your chest you watch Steve for a reaction, and he gives you one. His nose wrinkles up, turning to face you.

"He looks like a kid."

"He does not!" there's a laugh hidden behind your words, and Steve smiles, just a little. It's a nice thing to see.

"He has a babyface, he's got the smooth face of a baby."

"Like you're one to talk Harrington," you reach over, running a hand across his cheek. "You've got nothing on this face of yours."

Steve isn't nervous. He's not. The feeling of your skin on his, the warmth of your hand on his face has no effect on his heart rate. His heart beats this fast all the time. "I'll have you know that I've got a moustache coming in."

You pull back, buckling yourself into your seat. "That stubble on your upper lip doesn't count for shit Steve, don't give yourself a big head."

"Alright, well am I taking you home or what?" He wants to hide the grin on his lips, though he can't seem to put it away. It's stuck, the expression seemingly permanent. You're smiling too, and when you look over at him, his hands on the wheel and yours in your lap, it's all over.

"Let's go give babyface a run for his money."

-

It doesn't work out like it's supposed to, and as you walk into the store, out of uniform and entirely out of character, your confidence fades. "This was a bad idea." you mumble the words to Steve, who stands beside you, waiting to make a minor scene.

He looks down at you, peculiar frown pulling at his brows. "It's a great idea. Just making a little chaos, that's all." he doesn't sound like himself either, and in truth, his eyes are now scanning around the store, waiting for your target to show.

"Let's just go, Steve. It's dumb—this is dumb." before you can say anything more Steve's got his arm sliding softly around your waist, pulling you just that bit closer to his side. You don't flinch at the touch, the touch of a friend acting as though they're more. You should think more of it, feel more uncomfortable than you do, but you don't. You see your coworker approaching, apron over his regular uniform. You don't think you'd ever had a crush on him in the first place, despite what Steve had persisted, and even though the guy is cute, it doesn't seem to mean anything. Looking up at Steve is a struggle, and when you do you find his eyes still locked on the fated supermarket employee.

"Steve," muttering his name brings his eyes back to yours, and his gaze looks slightly different than it did before. "Let's get out of here."

"You sure?" the question hangs in the words, but something in him sounds relieved at the concept, as if all of a sudden this doesn't matter to him either. But he doesn't have a second to lead you away from the store before something else seems to enter the equation. Someone else.

"Hey, didn't expect to see you here." it's your coworker 'crush' standing before you with a strained grin. "It's your day off." He's says it in a way that suggests he's reminding you, in case you've forgotten. You don't miss the way his eyes flicker to Steve, and in particular, Steve's arm, still around your waist, his hand placed so convincingly as his fingers press affectionately into your side.

"Yeah, just came in to get some things." you smile back at the boy genuinely, as Steve buts into the conversation.

"Just some snacks...for date night." he's playing his part still, you realize, even if you weren't.

"Date night? You two are—I didn't see that coming." you think you must have imagined it, the deflated falter in your friends words. He didn't like you, he couldn't. He wouldn't. He was hardly a friend anyway, just the guy behind the checkout that you would wave and smile to during the work day. You couldn't possibly be hurting him with this, could you?

Steve squeezes you closer to his side, and it seems to be going a little too far. You're not sure if he does it just to get under the skin of the guy in front of you, or if he's trying to tell you something along the lines of "it's working."

You hope it's none of the above.

"Well, we should get going." diffusing the situation is all you can think to do, but now leaving isn't an option. If you don't exit the store with the so called 'snacks' you came in for, it might just mix things up further. You grab Steve by the hand, pulling him toward the candy aisle, sending your seemingly heartbroken coworker a sympathetic goodbye smile.

Once out of sight and snooping range, you give up the act. "Steve, this has to stop."

"What no, Nancy and Robin—they've just started connecting." Steve sounds disappointed, grasping for something to hold on to.

"There are other ways we can play matchmaker with them, but this...it's going too far. I can't do it." the way your eyes plead with Steve to end things, sends shivers across his spine. He feels the sting of your words as if it's all real, but of course it never was.

"So, we're breaking up?" he mumbles, trying not to let the words remind him of the familiar heartbreaks he's had before.

"Don't say it like that," there's a gentle laugh from your lips, soft, calmer than you were before. "That makes it sound like we were really a thing."

That cuts Steve deep. He can't help it, and his mind wanders to the feeling of your hand still holding his. He doesn't think you know that you're still doing it, so he squeezes your hand with his own, testing the waters. You let go.

You'd been Steve's fake girlfriend for over a month, and now suddenly, standing amongst bags of chocolate and sweets, you weren't anymore.

"So, just friends again?" You extend a hand as if to shake on the deal, and Steve accepts, though this time there is no affection in the way his hand holds yours.

"Friends." He confirms, and it really is over.

You don't let on to your friends directly that you'd split apart. Maybe due to the hopes that Robin and Nancy could make their own way a little faster whilst they were still under the impression of you and Steve in love. But you no longer hold hands in public, and you don't follow each other around like lost dogs.

It's weird, knowing that Steve isn't trailing behind you like he used to, and it's odd not having his car pull up in your driveway every day. You were so used to him surrounding you after the few months of being his partner in crime, that the distance from him has set up an ache in your heart.

Steve feels similarly, and the way the man goes about his days now are less interesting, and far less fun. Dustin caught on almost immediately, and despite the deal Steve made with you to never tell a soul in the group about your little agreement, he can't help but tell the young boy everything.

"So what you're saying is you never dated in the first place?" Dustin questions, Steve nodding.

"Yeah."

"But you think you might have fallen in love with her for real?"

Hearing Dustin say it out loud sends a pang of longing through Steve and he knows then that he most definitely has fallen head over heels for someone he was never supposed to love in the first place.

"Yeah. That sounds about right."

"Dude," Dustin has a grin on his lips and Steve can tell he's about to made fun of before it happens. "You are so lame. Honestly, can you just admit to yourself that you had a crush on her from the start? It was never fake to you, was it?" The kid is smart, and can see right through his older friend. He held no surprise when Steve told him the truth, because he found it quite obvious how Steve truly felt. It was why Steve's stories about how he fell in love with you felt so real to the group in the first place. Because they were the furthest thing from fake.

Steve doesn't respond, thinking it over. Dustin is right he realizes, and it's not surprising at all.

"You gotta tell her, man." Dustin speaks again, and Steve nods.

"Yeah. I know."

Two days later and Mike has invited everyone over, including the older kids, to spend the day together. It gives you Deja vu as you enter the house, having been to a similar hangout with Steve months before when you first introduced yourselves as a couple. Now you walk in alone, no sweaty hand to hold.

Steve's heart skips a beat when he sees you, and Dustin nudges him hard with his shoulder, as if Steve hasn't already been alerted of your presence. He thinks you look beautiful, but he always does. He realizes these things now. Now that he knows how he feels.

"Hey," Steve stands to greet you and you offer him a friendly smile back.

"Hey, Steve." It's still awkward between you, and has been ever since the fake breakup. Perhaps that's due to the fact you've both been avoiding each other like the plague since it happened.

"I need to talk to you about something later, is that okay?" He keeps his voice low, not wanting the others to hear about the private matters he wants to discuss. He can tell he's confusing you, but you agree thanks to his puppy dog eyes.

"Yeah, okay." Despite your agreeance, you plan to avoid Steve for the rest of the day, solely due to the fact you've begun to feel things that you shouldn't be. You were so used to being his friend, and seeing him as one, but now your thoughts have begun to linger on him more than they should, as do your eyes.

You can't help but admire the way he is with the kids, and the way his hands comb through his hair casually as if he doesn't know just how appealing it makes him. You focus a little too much on whether he's looking at you or not, and the sound of his laugh is too familiar now.

He was your friend, and whilst you'd promised he would stay that way, you weren't so sure you could keep it.

"Hey," Steve has caught you in the kitchen, going to get more soda for the party after a long day of avoidance. You'd hoped to spend a few minutes alone, and most of all, had hoped to keep evading him, but Steve had other plans.

You place the sodas on the counter, closing the fridge with caution. "It sure is hot today." You mumble in the hopes of keeping the conversation light. You know he's here to confront you about the distance you've been keeping from him. It can't be anything else.

"Yeah, it's summer." He feels bad about cornering you in the kitchen, but he knows this might be one of the only chances he has at asking you how you feel. Even with what Dustin had said, Steve doesn't know if he can bring himself to tell you what's been going on inside his head over the past couple of months, but he hopes you'll be willing to tell him what's been happening in yours.

"Are you okay?" even though you saw it coming, Steve's question still startles you.

You nod, though your voice involuntarily raises an octave. "Yeah, I'm fine. How are you?" You're not fine, and the lie is clear, but Steve is more than honest with you.

"I'm tired of us acting like we haven't fucked up our relationship." He leans against the counter in a kind of defeated gesture, weakening your resolve. "I don't want to keep fighting to be around you. I want you to feel comfortable around me again. Call me an idiot, a loser or something, like you used to."

"I can't." your whisper seems so loud in your own ears.

"I promise I'll call you pretentious and dramatic right back, just say it. Call me a name, make it how it used to be." there's a kind of desperation hidden within Steve's words, one you haven't heard before. One you doubt anyone has heard before. It stands in the silence, for your ears alone.

"You really want me to list all the shit I hate about you?" There's a shake to your voice, as if you're close to screaming or crying, but you're not sure which will come first.

"Well, I didn't say that—"

"I hate your stupid hair. Your teeth are too straight, and I don't like the way you talk to me, how your voice gets all soft and sweet. It's irritating when you smile because it makes me smile too, and you're laugh just—it just pisses me off." You stop for breath, sucking in the air as you focus on the boy in front of you. You've taken a few steps toward him with your words spoken, slow, and steady. "And I hate the fact you made me like you. I hate the way you're so unhateable to everyone around you, including me."

There's a small twitch of Steve's lips, and you can tell they want to pull upwards into the smile you just claimed to despise. He doesn't let them though, pushing himself back from the counter. "You wanna know what I hate about you?"

Your heart leaps into your throat but you don't show any sign of response, staring at him with as much blankness as you can muster.

"Absolutely everything, and nothing at all." He says it quietly. He doesn't need volume to get his point across. He's taken the steps needed to close the gap between you, and he's waiting for your approval. "In fact, I think I could love you, if you'll let me."

You let out a breath, somewhere between relief and excitement. "You're so lame, Harrington."

"You know you love it." he leans in closer, and you do the same, lips brushing against his.

"You know, I think I could love you too, if you'll let me of course." you allow yourself a grin at the sight of one on Steve's own lips, contagious as always.

"I think we could come to an arrangement." He's fucking with you, but you're too impatient to respond with anything but a kiss, gentle and sweet to his lips. You're not the first person to kiss Steve Harrington, but Steve thinks you might be the best.

"Come on, the others are waiting." You pick up the sodas left on the counter and push past Steve with the widest smile you've held in weeks, and Steve follows close behind.

GENERAL TAGLIST: @heliads @candywh0r3 @caplanreadss @hiya-itsamber @s00buwu

STRANGER THINGS TAGLIST: @buckys2thicc @browneyes528

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington drabbles #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington x femreader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader insert #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington story #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington series #steve harrington season 4 #steve harrington headcannons

[ameliora-j]

Can we get a blurb on Steve making the reader squirt for the first time?

𐐪𐑂 it’s twisted tuesday! send in ur requests ᵕ̈

content: fingering, oral (f!receiving), overstimulation, squirting, spitting, clit play, cnc, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI

your newest pickup from the bookstore rests in your hands as you read silently on steve’s bed. the man is sitting at his desk, some tv show or other playing on the tv. “babe, i’m bored” steve whines for what feels like the hundredth time.

“entertain yourself, stevie. i’m reading” you mumble, continuing to read the book. steve lets out a deep sigh, silence continuing in the room once more. there’s a moment before you hear shuffling as steve stands from his desk chair.

you don’t budge, continuing to read your book untill you feel steve’s hands on your thighs, spreading them apart. you frown, furrowing your brows as you peek around your book to look at him. “what are you doing, steve?” you ask curiously.

“entertaining myself” he shrugs simply, tugging his sweats that you’d borrowed down your legs. you gasp, shivering a bit at the cold before you return to your book, letting steve do what he wants. your eyes continue to scan the page as steve pushes your panties aside.

he leans forward, pursing his lips and spitting on your clit, watching it trail down to your pulsing hole. you moan softly, your hips bucking a bit at the warm sensation as steve rubs his thumb down your slit to spread the saliva.

he presses down on your clit, beginning to circle the little nub gently as he watches the way your cunt reacts to his touch with a soft smile. your whines turn into soft moans, hips involuntarily bucking against his hand as your eyes fight to stay focused on the words you’re reading.

it’s barely five minutes before you’re cumming, head falling back against the pillows as your book tumbles from your hold. “steve… stevie” you moan, your eyes rolling in pleasure as he gives you an orgasm from clit play alone. immediately after, steve’s lips wrap around your clit as two fingers prod your entrance.

you whine, trying to push his head away as he sucks on your clit, curving his fingers up everytime he fucks back into you. your fingers tangle in his locks, tugging at his hair as tears spill over your waterline. “stevie i can’t” you whine, shaking your head.

he hums, pulling off your clit with a soft ‘pop.’ “honey, jus relax. read y’book like you were ‘m entertaining myself” he winks, his thumb stroking over your clit once more. “this isn’t for you” he says simply before his mouth is reattaching to your clit.

steve is relentless, continuing untill he’s pulled four orgasms out of you. your legs are shaking weakly as tears spill down your cheeks. one of steve’s hands is rested on your lower stomach, the other fucking three fingers deep into you, prodding your gspot repeatedly. “please i… please i can’t” you whine, shaking your head as he begins kitten licking your clit.

“you can, baby” he nods. “one more n i promise i’m done” he smiles, pressing a soft kiss to the fat bud. your hips jolt, your eyes rolling as you grind on his hand. his lips attach to your clit again, sucking harshly as he fucked you faster with his fingers.

for a moment, time stopped. your eyes rolled all the way to the back of your head as your thighs clamped shut around steve’s. your body shook violently as you tugged on his hair, crying out his name. stars danced across your vision as cum gushed from your cunt like a waterfall, steve fucking you through it as you soaked him and his sheets.

when you come to, steve is kneeling over you, dripping in your essence as he looks down at you awestruck. you flush in embarrassment as you look up at him with wide eyes, his eyes darkened with lust. “you made such a pretty mess, baby…” he whispers, leaning down and kissing your clit. “good girl.”

#twisted tuesday! #nsfw.nani #dark.nani #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fuc #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction

[retrobutterflies]

Cute Aggression | s.h.

Steve Harrington x Female!Reader

Summary: Steve runs his girlfriend a bath when she decides to walk through the rain to come see him. And he thinks she's crazy and stupid and undoubtedly endearing.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Pure Fluff, Established Relationship, Nudity but super tame, Steve likes boobs

A/N: There's nothing more gut wrenchingly cute than two people sharing a bath.

"You're soaked." 

A shiver accompanied your quirking smile, tilting your head sheepishly at the unimpressed look of your boyfriend. You could only imagine what you looked like: matted down hair, clothes sticking to you like plastic wrap, any remnants of makeup probably a watercolor blur around your eyes. Your shoes had made uncomfortable squelching noises as you dodged puddles up to Steve's front door and your mind flashed to the indecisive moment before leaving your house where you mistakenly, stupidly, figured you wouldn't need your umbrella.

"Most people answer the door with a 'hello'."

He looked cozy and warm in the doorway. His soft waves were curving in different directions like he had been lying down a moment ago and your eyes lingered on his plaid pajama pants cuffed at the bottoms exposing mismatching socks. He ignored your sarcastic retort with a roll of his eyes and reached out a hand to latch onto the darkened fabric of your sleeve. 

"Why are you soaked?" he asked. His dark eyes found yours in the low glow of his porch light and you hoped for a fleeting moment that you didn't have panda eyes from smudged mascara. 

"Because it's raining," you replied. He huffed, stepping forward into the slight misting, tugging you towards him. Both hands engulfed your forearms then moved quickly up to your shoulders.

"Smartass," he narrowed his eyes at you. "Why are you out in the rain?"

"Because I wanted to come see you." He huffed at you again though a smile was pulling softly at the corners of his mouth. 

"Have you ever heard of a phone? Cool device that lets you call me from the comfort of your own home?" 

"Do you not want me here?" He stepped even closer until he was nearly pressed up against you.

"I absolutely did not say that," he grumbled, arms encircling like vines until he was wrapping you in his warmth. You smiled into his shirt, your own arms snaking around his back and pulling him in close until you were flush together. "You could've called and I would've given you a ride like a normal person."

"It wasn't raining when I first left," you defended yourself. You could feel the moisture from your shirt seeping into his and though you felt bad about ruining his AC/DC shirt that you'd stolen a thousand times, you couldn't bring yourself to pull away from his warmth.

"Yeah and you still live like two miles away. And it's nearly dark." His chest rumbled as he spoke, his voice growing lower. He inclined his head down towards you and you tilted your chin upwards to meet his gaze. Though framed by furrowed brows, his eyes were rich and warm. The brown of his irises matched the cinnamon specks of freckles that danced across the bridge of his nose and you could see the hazy swirling of sleepiness between dark lashes.

"It's a nice walk," you said, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. 

"You live to torment me," he replied. His lips met yours then, quieting your laugh in a kiss. You sighed, pleased to finally be receiving his affection. Your eyes were still closed when he pulled away but he leaned in to press a few kisses to your cheeks and a final one to your forehead, lips like a candle against your frozen skin.

"C'mon. Let's get you inside before you freeze," he mumbled, pressing another kiss to the top of your head, words muffled on wet hair.

You shuffled in, door swinging shut behind you shutting out the biting cold of the autumn air. Your shoes were ditched and your jacket was being peeled off by Steve before he was pushing you upstairs. You winced as your soaking socks sunk into the runner at the top of the steps. Your shirt felt like it was suctioned to your skin and your jeans felt like they weighed ten pounds. 

"I can't believe you walked here," Steve grumbled again, sighing at you as he steered you towards his room, one hand guiding you from the small of your back and the other moving wet hair strands away from your neck. "You're psychotic."

"If you keep being mean to me I'm gonna leave," you quipped back though you were smiling as you crossed the threshold of his bedroom, hardwood turning to plush carpet. 

"I'm not being mean," he said, stepping besides you. He turned to face you, head tilting as his eyes found yours. "Being mean is if I said you looked like a drowned raccoon."

"Steve!" you exclaimed, hand flying to slap him lightly on the arm.

"But I didn't say that," he stated, stepping closer. A coy smile appeared on his lips and you wanted to glower at him. But he looked so pretty under the low light of his lamp that you settled on a weak frown.

"You just did," you said incredulously, arms crossing and lips forming an endearing frown that had Steve's grin widening.

"No I was saying that I could've said that. But I didn't."

"Right so instead you called me psychotic," you shot back. His eyes flickered to your lower lip pushing out in a pout and he found himself cooing at you.

"Aww, bubs," his palms enveloped your cheeks, thumbs smoothing over the plush of your cheek bones. "That's because you are."

You scoffed indignantly and he let out a gleeful laugh at your annoyance. He squeezed your cheeks, leaning in close until he could press a few smiling kisses to your lips. You wanted to whine at him, push him away and pretend you were upset but you were weak willed and Steve was intoxicating. His lips were plush and smooth, warming up your chill bitten lips until they were plump and swollen. He tasted like mint and he smelled like faded cologne and cinnamon sticks. 

"'M gonna run you a bath, okay? Your skin feels like ice," he murmured against your lips, pressing a few more kisses as his hands trailed from your cheeks down your neck. You didn't realize how cold you were until his heated palms pressed against the skin of your neck and felt like fire. 

You nodded and he stole a few more pecks before he was heading into the ensuite. The light flickered on and you heard the water start, a low plopping sound until it settled as you imagined the tub filling. Your gaze trailed around the room as you stood still unmoving in the same spot as if your shaking limbs had crystallized in place. He had a bookshelf on the far wall that seemed to have more knick knacks on it than actual books. His desk was littered with cassette tapes missing cases, dull pencils atop forgotten scribbled reminders, and your broken Walkman unscrewed and open that Steve claimed he was going to fix. 

Your frozen knees ached a little as you forced yourself to move, taking a few steps towards his ever-open closet to pick up the random piles of clothes that seemed to be permanent decor pieces. You dropped them in his hamper and then moved to his unmade bed so you could pull the comforter back up and smooth out the wrinkles. You eyed the pile of polaroids that had their designated place next to his lamp and felt your chest warm at how you seemed to appear in every single one of them.

You heard Steve call your name and cast a final lingering look at the photo of Steve with his arm slung around you before finding your way into the bathroom. He was crouched in front of the sink, sifting through the product graveyard that you called his cabinet.

"What are you looking for?" you asked, leaning yourself up against the doorway. He was squinting his eyes into the abyss of the cabinet, hand pushing through what you could only assume was an array of long forgotten toiletries.

"That bottle of makeup remover. I swear you left it here. It's like bright pink how could I possible not see it," he was glaring into the wooden shelves as if the bottle itself was trying to hide from his gaze.

"Makeup remover. Right," you grumbled though your lips seemed to be permanently up-ticked in Steve's presence, "because I look like a drowned raccoon."

"You said it not me," he quipped and you gasped in faux indignation, moving your socked foot to jab into his side. He yelped, pulling back from his crouched position in front of the cabinet to give you a look though his smirk was deepening, making small dimples appear on his ever-tan cheeks.

"No you said it," you huffed. He let out a deep chuckle, standing up and turning towards you with the bright pink bottle in his hand. "You could've at least gone with a panda or something."

"Sloth was actually my second choice," he said. He let out a delighted squeal as you leapt forward, pout deepening and hand held high to enact your revenge. He dodged you easily enough, moving quickly to grab hold of your wrists, makeup remover discarded to the sink. He pulled you in close, towering slightly as he held your wrists firm. He grinned at you as you glared, eyes flickering down to your lower lip jutted out and he couldn't stop himself from stealing a kiss, quick and fast.

"You're being so mean," you whined though felt your self leaning towards him, hoping he'd kiss you again. 

"I'm not," he argued, "You're the most beautiful raccoon I've ever seen."

He laughed at your defiant groan of his name. He swooped in again, quieting your protests against silken lips and your resolve died quickly on your tongue. You wanted to be angry but he took a step closer and deepened the kiss so that all you could do was let out a contented sigh. He let go of one of your wrists to move his hand to the back of your neck. His palm warmed goosebump painted skin and his thumb and forefinger gently massaged the tired tendons of your neck, easing the tension from your spine.

When your brain felt like TV static, he was pulling away with flushed cheeks and an endeared grin. His eyes trailed around the contours of your face, following the swoops and valleys of your cheekbones and cupid's bow. Your eyes fluttered open and he couldn't understand how even with mascara smudged like two gnarly black eyes and hair frizzy and tangled beyond belief, you still stole his breath away.

"If you compare me to another animal–" He kissed you again and then again, deciding he wasn't quite done, pulling you back deeper into your love drunk state. His arms moved around the curve of your waist, tugging you in so you were ruining his shirt once more. His cologne was all encompassing, your head was foggy, and you felt any more witty comments puffing out like matches.

When his kisses started trailing from your lips to the curve of your jaw, he finally zeroed in on how cold your skin felt and what he was supposed to be doing before you and your siren-like beauty distracted him. He hummed low and deep against your throat, nipping at the skin with his canines like he was pulling you from your haze.

"Will you let me get you ready? Or are you gonna keep distracting me?" he murmured, lips still dragging lightly against your pulse point.

You could only hum back, hands gripping tight to the cotton of his shirt so he couldn't pull away. He chuckled again, giving a few more love bites soothed with pillowy kisses. Then he was tugging you back towards the sink so he could soak a cotton pad in makeup remover and take off the evidence of your battle with the rain.

You kept your eyes shut, leaning against his chest, hip touching the counter as he smoothed the cotton pad over your eyes. He was gentle and slow, nicer than you were to your own skin. Every few moments he would lean in and peck your lips making a smile tug at the corners but you kept your eyes shut, savoring the moment and his caring touches.

When he was done, he was pulling away making your eyes flutter open. He turned around to turn off the faucet, hand touching the water quickly to test the temperature. Then he was turning back, stepping close to you again with warm honey eyes and a soft smile.

"Alright, up," he ordered, hands moving to grip the rim of your shirt. He lifted the soaked material up and over your head. You felt his eyes linger on your satin bra as you undid the button of your jeans with shaking hands. 

"You just wanna see me naked," you commented, smirking as you pulled down your jeans until they crumbled in a heap on the floor.

"I just want to make sure my girlfriend doesn't freeze to death. And you're turning me into a villain?" he questioned.

"Are you denying it?" you asked, pausing your hands mid movement as they gripped the clasp of your bra. He blinked at you, eyes hovering down then to your halted movements.

"Okay now you're being mean to me," he replied, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes grew darker.

"I was just clarifying," you said, smile deepening before deciding to end his torment. 

Though he had seen you naked countless times, Steve couldn't help feel like an excited school boy every time. He wasn't sure if you knew just how much power you wielded over him. You could have him on his knees at even the promise of looking at you. He took a step closer and your breath hitched as you watch his hand reach out. His hand was burning as he touched your skin, palm cupping your tit and thumb swiping over your hardened nipple.

"See," he murmured, free hand snaking around your back, smoothing up the dip in your spine, trailing chills in its wake. "You're freezing."

You hummed in agreement and he leaned down to press an open-mouthed kiss to your collar bone. His hand squeezed and his thumb swiped again and you jumped at the sensation, feeling heat and want creep up your back. He dragged his lips back up towards your neck, ghosting over your throat as his hand continued its affection.

"C'mon," was all he said before he was tugging you towards the bath. 

Steve was quick to rid himself of his clothes at your goading pulls of his shirt, dropping in careless piles on the tiled floor along with the rest of yours. He sunk into the water first, letting out a hiss through pearly teeth as he lowered into the steaming water. Then he was grabbing for you, helping you in to sit in front of him.

"It's hot, Steve," you said, hissing just the same, wanting to pull away because the water felt like lava against your icy skin.

"I know. I know. Easy," he said, hands holding above the dip in your waist, firm but gentle, guiding you down so your back was resting against his chest. "Good job. Better?"

You nodded, soaking in his praise with a hum. The water soon turned to welcomed heat and you felt your body melting into the tub, molding yourself against the broad expanse of Steve's torso. He dipped his hand in the water, cupping it slightly so he could bring some of it onto your head. He smoothed back the hair from your forehead, letting the warm water trickle over your ears and down the back of your neck. You hummed again, eyes fluttering shut and brain turning gooey as his left arm moved to encircle over your stomach, pulling you flush against him.

He used his free hand to move away the hair stuck to your neck, draping it over one shoulder so the left side of your neck was exposed to him. You leaned your head back, resting it against his shoulder, letting his lips find the smooth silk of your neck to leave warm, molten kisses to the warming skin. His left hand trailed upwards, following the curve of your love handle to settle again on your chest and his other hand followed suit until you were sinking in deeper, further against Steve and his brandishing kisses and affectionate hands.

His lips trailed from your neck to your shoulder. They lingered near the line of water, dragging lightly over your skin until his affection turned to cute aggression and he nipped at the skin poking out from the water. You squirmed against him and he nipped again before kissing away the sting at your quiet protest.

"You know you can't eat me, Steve," you mumbled, voice slurred in comfort and pleasure.

"I know," he replied, words muffled against your skin, nipping again and tightening his grip on you when you squirmed again. "But I can try."

"Just admit you're obsessed with me," you responded and he could hear the smile in your voice.

"Says the girl who walked in a hurricane to come see me," he quipped back.

"It's just rain. You're dramatic," you mumbled, too content to argue further.

"And you're obsessed with me," he concluded, littering a dozen and a half more kisses to your skin until he was biting again and you were turning to protest and he was catching your lips against his to dilute your annoyance into the ever present love haze that was Steve.

Link to my masterlist :)

#steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve x reader #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x female!reader #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot

[folklorefairyy]

of glasses and grins - s.h

summary - in which steve really needs glasses but has a lifetime of insecurities that has him hiding them. lucky for him, his girlfriend knows just how to make him smile.

warnings - mentions of violence (punches), mentions of bullying (taunts/nicknames from other kids), insecurities, fem!reader, kissing and general relationship touching (nothing sexual), reader sits on steve’s lap

word count - 1.4k

authors note - this is inspired by a request from the lovely vic <3 which you can find here!

i know there’s a lot of headcanons about steve needing glasses due to his head injuries and that inspired his need to wear them more here! i remember seeing this months and months ago so if anyone knows any specific people that was big on that, i’d love to give credit!!

Steve Harrington had taken one too many blows to the head. On the receiving end of fists far too often it’s safe to say his body had felt their toll. His eyesight wasn't the best to begin with, having reading glasses in middle school. After receiving enough ‘geek’ or ‘four-eyes’ jokes he eventually put them to rest in the back of the drawer of his bedside table.

As ‘King Steve’ he ignored his need to squint when chatting in the back of class, or the migraine’s he’d endure, because he’d finally built an image he didn't want to tarnish. His reputation was fragile, and he'd much rather take a physical blow than one to his ego. Until he started getting hit, a lot, and suddenly the incessant migraines became more than a dull ache and the blurinnes was more than a smudge.

You had started dating Steve after highschool, not aware of past comments or cohorts, nor the journey that has led to your boyfriend constantly rubbing his eyes and having a few close calls with rogue tree branches when driving.

It was one movie night, snuggled on the sofa with your legs scrunched onto his lap, his strong arm pressing into your back and thumb smoothing over the exposed skin of your shoulder, that you finally voiced your concerns.

For the past half hour Steve had been watching the movie through one half-closed eye, trying desperately to get it to focus. Everytime you peered up at his face he simply looked down at you and winked, or stuck his tongue out, or did practically any adorably dorky facial expression you could name in order to distract you.

Raising your hand to thumb at his cheek, you whisper a ‘Baby,’ receiving a hum from him as he turns his attention to you. Steve thinks he could hear just about every pet name fall from your lips and never get enough of it; his heart feeling warm at the thought of being your anything.

‘Are your eyes bugging you?’ you prod softly. He shuts them with a sigh, head leaning into your palm which has spread across his cheek. He half-heartedly shakes his head no, more of a tilt than anything. Prompting again you plead, ‘Stevie, please don’t lie to me.’ Your voice is filled with such sweetness he feels guilty for all of his hiding, wondering how he could ever deny the honey in your voice.

‘A little,’ he finally confesses, voice more a whisper of breath than an actual sound. He feels a little silly, keeping his eyes shut to avoid his truth - that his eyes have been bugging him long before you got together. ‘They always hurt to be honest, usually just ignore it.’

His confession tugs at your heart, your sweet boy hiding a pain you can’t magically fix with the kisses and soft words you’d usually resort to.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ you ask feeling slightly wounded, like you’ve failed as a girlfriend for not knowing sooner. You move your thumb back and forth on his cheek, reassuring him you weren’t mad but concerned.

He peers up at you through heavy eyes, lips pulled between teeth in an anxious tell. ‘I knew you’d make me wear my glasses if I told you about them.’

You tut softly and lean to kiss between his brows, ‘Oh honey, what’s wrong with your glasses?’ The revelation shocked you momentarily, the prospect of your boyfriend in glasses a welcome image but an unexpected one.

He looks away from you again, old taunts swimming in his head. ‘I’d look stupid,’ he mutters. ‘You’d find me ugly or weird and wouldn’t want me anymore.’

You could sob at the confession, firstly for the inaccuracy but secondly because you can’t believe he’s been harbouring such insecurities. Moving to grasp his face in both hands you press a kiss to his lips this time, so sweet love itself bloomed between them. ‘Honey, if you need them to see you need them.’ Another meeting of lips to reassure him. ‘Plus I think you’d look handsome in just about any get-up.’ you whispered against his lips, brushing them with a soft smile.

The comment almost pulls Steve’s mouth into a smile of his own, but his past tugs them back down. ‘That’s real sweet baby, but no one else thought so and I wouldn't blame you either.’

At this point your desperation to have Steve rid himself of such thoughts takes over and you don’t think before you’re imbing onto his lap and squishing him to the sofa, face to face, chest to chest, trying very hard to make your point, as though the physical contact would make your opinion replace the one in his brain.

Eyes staring into his, but with an incredible softness that he always elicits, you try your best to convince him otherwise. ‘Firstly, Steve Harrington, glasses are a completely normal thing to have and so many people wear them. Whoever taught you otherwise can go suck it, and I’m sorry they made you uncomfortable wearing them.’

Your sudden brashness and the random full naming of him had his heart feeling a little lighter. You, however, were not done. ‘And secondly, my boyfriend is beautiful, and I know damn straight he is going to look so pretty in his glasses. If the mental images I’m seeing are anywhere near the real deal then I’m in trouble.’ A kiss to the freckles on his nose, your silent sign of ‘I love you.’ ‘I’m gonna have to fight off a lot of people when they get a look at you, trust me.’

At this he lets out a low chuckle, lips finally pulling into that grin you so love, the urge to kiss it only slightly overpowered by your pride in removing some of his sadness.

He leans up slowly and kisses your nose back, the smile still painting his lips as he pulls away. ‘Wow, sweetheart, you really do love me huh? Thinking I’d be wooing everyone and wanting to fight for me?’

Hands smoothing his hair back, you move nose to nose, their tips kissing, and whisper upon his growing grin, ‘Oh handsome, I’d go to war for you.’

At your confession, he pulls your body down to lay on the sofa, arms wrapping around your waist, and presses his weight into you, peppering kisses into your hair and your cheeks, until he finally reaches your lips. You’re both giggling, giddy with love and a connection between you that can't be described but only felt, for it’s uniquely yours.

He looks like an angel above you, hair curtaining his face, the halo of light from the lamp illuminating him in a honeyed glow. Hand returning to his cheek, it’s favourite spot to be, you press another kiss to his lips. ‘Can you please go get your glasses? I want to work out how many people I’ve got to plan on fighting.’

He presses another kiss back, ‘Oh my tough girl, how could I ever leave you unprepared.’ Steve pulls himself off you, not without reluctance and another peck, before running upstairs to venture in the spot of his drawer he always thought he’d leave untouched, trying to wish the taunts away but never quite succeeding.

As he crept back down the stairs that anxiety of being judged bloomed in his chest and he faltered on the last step. But then he spots the back of your head, perched on the sofa so patiently, knee bobbing up and down as your enthusiasm seeped through, and he knows, that you are the one person who could see past the glasses, who would love him regardless, and so he took the final step.

The creaking of the staircase grabs your attention as your eager head whips round so fast Steve swears you’ve given yourself whiplash. The biggest smile blooming on your face at the sight of Steve, a nervous smile on his own, decorated so beautifully with a pair of wide-lensed, silver glasses.

You rush from your seat, too gleeful to wait for him to come to you. Hands to face once again, cocooning it in that warm cage he so loved, you dote a hundred kisses to his cheeks, give or take, before leaning back to whisper softly, ‘Oh my beautiful boy, I am going to have to work on my punches.’

Steve let out a loud laugh, fresh with adoration, and pressed what was not to be the last kiss that evening to your lips. You were just so precious, true sweetness in your intentions. He may have thought he’d never wear them again, but he now thinks he won’t ever take them off, just to see that spark in your eyes reflected in the glass of his once hated frames.

#i’m back writing ahh!! #sorry it’s been so long my loves <3 #steve <3 #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x female!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington scenario

[stvharrngton]

omg ky what about. 20 and 25 from the list u just reblogged with steeb ofc

— @inkluvs

coming right up <3 hope u enjoy !!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 1k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (f and m receiving), sixty-nine, throat fucking, spanking

prompt: "breathe through your nose" and "does that feel good?" from this (x) list

taglist: @inkluvs @dukesmebby @sweetbabygirlsworld @kennedy-brooke

“Fuck,” Steve moaned out.

His eyes were dark and heavy as he stared right into your dripping core. Steve was naked, lay on his back on his bed as you were above, on top of him.

He never thought you would both end up here when you started making out on his bed, but then one by one your clothes ended up on the floor and when you asked if you could try something new, something different, all the blood in his body rushed south.

He hadn’t even touched you yet and he had your pussy dripping on his tongue, the boy moaning just at the sight of you like this for him. You ghosted your fingers up the shaft of his thick cock, a drivel of saliva leaving your lips and landing on the tip. 

Steve’s hands are gripping your ass, fingers pulling and kneading at the flesh. Large palms hot on your soft skin. Once you wrapped your lips around the tip of his cock, Steve went hell for leather.

Sure, he was always enthusiastic when he went down on you, licking and sucking at your pussy like a man starved but this was something else. It’s like Steve was addicted to you, addicted to your taste, your scent and he’d been starved for days and now he was finally getting his next fix.

He’s soft with it, tongue swirling around your cunt as his lips move over you gently but with just the right amount of pressure. The tip of his tongue dipping in and out of your hole as he moaned and groaned into you, toes curling into the sheets as Steve resisted the urge to fuck his cock up into your warm mouth.

You moaned around Steve’s cock, the vibrations rolling through his body as his length twitched in your mouth. His eyes rolled back, fingers digging into your doughy thighs. He pulled away from you for a beat, the pad of his thumb brushing over your puckered hole before he delivers a soft smack to your ass.

Steve presses his lips over your pussy softly, moaning out below you, “You taste so fucking sweet, baby.” He brought his finger to your entrance now, his index digit pushing into your hole, curling and fucking in and out of you slowly. 

You released Steve’s cock as your mouth relaxed, letting out an obnoxiously loud moan. He kept going though, filthy words continuing to leave his mouth, “Does that feel good? Little pussy’s just dripping for me, isn’t she?”

Trying your best to turn your attention back to Steve’s aching cock, you all but failed as he continued to lick at you. You settled for rolling his heavy balls in the palm of your hand, your tongue licking at the underside of the head of his cock.

Steve buried his face in your pussy, skilled tongue licking itself all over, a mixture of spit and your juices covering his mouth and chin, the stickiness spreading to your thighs. 

“Fuck, I can’t, Stevie–” you groaned, eyes fluttering closed, “mouth feels too good, shit.”

“Come on, baby,” he cooed, a light teasing tone lurking beneath his voice, “you asked for this, hm? Don’t give up on me now.” You couldn’t see but Steve was smirking below you, a stupid sexy smirk that you would normally love to wipe right from his face, “You’re so good at sucking my cock, pretty girl.”

You whined at his words, desperate to refocus but you just couldn’t. Steve was too good, too intense. You were overwhelmed to say the least, but you powered through, rolling his balls in your palm a final time before something in Steve snapped.

The boy bent his knees, strong arms wrapping around your lower back as your eyes widened in suspense and anticipation. “Breathe through your nose, baby.” was all he said as Steve began to rut his hips up off of the mattress.

“Oh,” Steve groaned, lips brushing over your cunt, “there you go, baby, that’s it. Good girl.” 

Steve fucked his cock in and out of your warm, wet mouth, his tip brushing the back of your throat with every thrust of his hips. All you can do is whine and whimper around his length, your eyes squeezed shut as Steve regains his composure and goes straight back to burying his face in your pussy.

You instinctively begin to roll your hips, grinding your cunt against Steve’s tongue as the tears begin to well in the corner of your eyes, your lashes wet, the salty water leaking down your cheeks. You’re not sure how much longer you can last, the tears are streaming now, your mouth is covered in saliva, saliva that’s dribbling all over Steve’s thick cock all the way down to his balls.

Steve’s thighs begin to tense as he smacks your ass once more, fucking your mouth so full of his cock, his tongue lapping and sucking at your puffy clit, it was all too much. You went into overdrive, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. 

Your pussy was soaking, creamy and leaking all over Steve’s waiting mouth. He took it gladly, lapping up everything that you had to give him. He groaned into you, toes curling into the sheets as his fingers caressed your waist softly.

He wasn’t far behind you, his body tensing all over as he leaped over the edge with a few more strokes of his cock. Your mouth is too tight and wet, too warm and inviting. The movements of his tongue on you ceased, his lips still brushing against you but the only thing that was leaving his mouth was whimpers of your name and incoherent moans as Steve rode through his orgasm.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, skin clammy, hair sticking to his forehead, his chest heaving with heavy breaths.

You were in no better state, your skin hot and shivery. You crawled off of Steve as gracefully as you could, rolling into his side as he wrapped you up in his arms.

“We are definitely doing that again.” Steve chirped, a coy grin on his face as he pressed his lips to yours.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #stranger things smut #k.fic #request #ivy<3

[musings-of-a-college-dork]

Oh, Pretty Woman...

Steve Harrington x Fem!Henderson!Reader

Word count: roughly 5.5K

Y/N Henderson has been away from Hawkins for a while…but she’s come home only to realize her long held feelings for Steve Harrington. So when he invites her over for their usual dinner making hang out, things play out a bit differently than usual. 

Warnings: NSFW (mdni), terms of endearment, fluffy Steve, slight season 3 spoiler (Robin has a partner), one OC (Jude), very fluffy smut, watching of Pretty Woman, not proof read.

Author’s note: Ok this has been a long time coming BUT I wanted to make sure it was everything I wanted it to be before posting! Enjoy some very fluffy Steve smut!  

Y/N had been pacing back and forth all afternoon. She was overthinking this. She was totally overthinking this.

“It’s just movie night and dinner,” she said aloud as she help up her outfit options, “Like you used to do…Stop being so…ugh.” Finally, she realized there was only one thing to fix this. She walked over, picked up her phone, and dialed the number she knew by heart. 

“Hello, this is Jude?”

“Hey, it’s Y/N,” Y/N said as she flopped down onto her bed, knowing they would set her straight if she was spinning out about this and not seeing it for what it was. 

“Holy shit what’s wrong?” They sat on their bed, hearing their friend’s heart beat practically echo through the phone.

“Nothing ... .ok um…” Y/N tried to think of how to start this, “You know Steve and I make dinner together whenever I’m visiting town?” 

“Oh my god,” Jude sat back on their bed. “Yes? Are you seeing him?” Jude’s brows were raised as Robin came in to water the plants in their bedroom. “Seeing Steve I mean.” They whispered to no avail, because Robin heard everything.

“Steve?” She asked. Jude motioned for them to be quiet.

“Oh god is Robin there?” Y/N asked as she could hear another voice, wanting to crawl up in a hole because if Robin knew she was overreacting she was totally gonna tell Steve.

“Hang on,” They tried to comfort Y/N. “Robin, honey, I need a moment.”

“No, no it’s fine as long as she swears not to mention this to Steve, ever,” Y/N said, emphasis on the ever. 

“No,” Jude said. “Robin, you know I love you. But I need a moment with my sister.” Robin nodded, ruffling Jude’s hair as she walked out of their tiny bedroom, closing the door. “Tell me.”

“Ok so Steve invited me over to do like dinner and stuff which we do a lot when I’m home since he can’t cook, well he couldn’t cook when we started,” Y/N rambled, “He’s actually really good now when he tries-”

“Okay Y/N, sweetie, get to the meat.” Jude was waiting with baited breath to hear what she said.

“I’m nervous,” Y/N finally admitted, “To go over. I’m nervous.” 

“And….is this… a new thing? You said you’ve been going over for a while now.”

“Yeah the nerves are new,” Y/N said with a sigh as she moved to look at the outfits she had been deciding between, “I mean it’s the first time we’ve hung out in a while and…I wasn’t nervous then but I am now. I mean, Jude, I’ve been through every outfit in my closet, I’ve showered and like an everything shower, and….ugh!” 

“Oh god, an everything shower?” Their tone, usually mocking, was warm. “Well…are you planning…well let me rephrase. Do you want something to happen tonight?”

“What?” Y/N asked, the thought suddenly coming to her mind, “I…oh my god…I….” 

“Do you?”

“Yes,” Y/N said honestly, “I…I really hadn’t thought about it because I was so busy with stuff,” a lie, Y/N had thought about Steve every day, “but…it would explain a lot of things.” 

“THINGS??” Jude sat up. “HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?? THINGS??”

“I mean,” she thought for a second before going, “I don’t know! I mean I’ve always thought Steve was handsome, he’s a good looking dude, everyone thinks Steve is handsome. And like sure there have been little moments where I wondered, what if, but I…I never really thought about liking him in that way but…then we were making dinner for the first time and he got that little smile and…and I fell for him. Deep and hard and- well not like that! But I just…I’m smitten Jude!” 

“I mean he has been a rock for you after everything,” Jude nodded totally following, “And he’s a good guy. He’s funny and awkward and charming and he…definitely cares for you. You two danced and-”

“But what if he’s changed his mind?” Y/N asked as she flopped down on the bed, “What if I go over there and he’s totally moved on and doesn’t feel the same way and now it’s like starting over from scratch or worse, what if he just wants to be friends and I have to bury it all down again?! Maybe he doesn’t feel that way and maybe he…I mean…I like him so much and I have since…jesus the seventh grade? On and off and…Jude what do I do?” 

“Oh Y/N,” Their voice consoling, for once no mockery. “You gotta go for it. You gotta. You have something special with him whether it’s romantic or not. And look at Robin and his friendship. They are still super close even after he confessed his feelings. He’ll always be there for you.” Relief did wash through Y/N in this moment only to be replaced by a new kind of trepidation. 

“Then what do I wear?” Jude cackled at their friend’s nervousness, finally indulging. 

“What are your options?” Jude said through laughter. 

The drive there was also easy with the radio on blast. Even the way up to Steve’s apartment was easy…it was knocking on the door that was hard. But she did it. And then she waited. 

Steve jumped and blew out the candle he lit. It’s not like that. Well maybe it’s like that. But remember what you’ve practiced. Follow her lead. See where she's at and make sure she feels the same still. He jumped to get the door, swinging the towel over his shoulder before opening the door. 

“Hey,” His jaw hung open slightly, seeing Y/N. Why the fuck did I blow out that candle? “You look beautiful.” Fuck that was way too forward. Can’t take it back now. He scratched the back of his head before backing up and letting her in. 

“Thank you,” She said, her voice so much shakier than she wanted it to be as she struggled to meet his gaze. She came in and kicked her shoes off as she always did out of respect. The lights had been dimmed significantly and there was already something cooking, as the room smelled of rich vivacious flavor. 

“Steve that smells incredible!” Y/N said as Steve shut the door, “What are you making?”��

“ I just made Penne Rosa,” He shrugged it off like it was the most casual thing in the world. Y/N just turned and looked at him, narrowing her eyes. 

“I leave for what…three months and suddenly you’ve gone world class chef on me?” She teased with a smirk, “Steve, there will be no point to me coming over if you can suddenly cook better than I can! Jeez.” 

“Hey now Y/N, just accept that I am officially allowed to be better than you at something,” He grabbed the spoon and offered her a taste. Y/N was far too excited for a taste as she followed him into the kitchen. Steve dipped the spoon into the sauce, got a bit, and without thinking much about it blew on the spoon to make sure it wouldn’t be too hot before passing it over to her. Y/N beamed as she took the spoon and popped it into her mouth letting out a hum in reply. 

“Oh my god that’s so good,” she praised. 

“You like it?” He beamed. “ I can relax now.”

“Like it? Steve that is the best sauce I have had maybe ever,” she said with a little sigh, “Oh that’s so good, wow.” He watched her enjoy it, before having to distract himself with his sauce. 

“The bread I got from a bakery because I didn’t have time to bake any. If you could cut some into slices that would be wonderful.”

“Of course,” she beamed, happy for a task to do as she pulled the bread knife from his drawer where she knew it would be, “So…have you been seeing anyone?” Steve dropped his spoon, splattering sauce on the ground.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” He exclaimed, immediately getting down to wipe his mess. “Uh, no. No I haven’t been. You?”

“No,” Y/N said as she passed him a paper towel, “I um…I haven’t been either.” 

“Oh,” Steve stood up and slung his towel over his shoulder, watching her back as she intently cut the bread. “Huh.” He went back to his sauce, stirring for a minute before finally giving in. 

“So,” Y/N turned to look at him again, facing him fully this time, trying to break the tension she had somewhat created though she was thankful for the relief that he was still single, “What else is new?” 

“Same old, same old”. He turned off the burden, allowing the sauce to still cook without the fire. “Nothing much to do other than work. Things just aren’t the same without you here.” Y/N’s cheeks went red and Steve smiled, confidence surging through him that spark was still there. 

“How’s my brother been?” Y/N asked as she watched him work for a moment, noting how at peace she felt here, with him.

“He’s the same as usual too,” Steve scoffed, “Cocky.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Y/N teased, “You gave him your hair products and since then-”

“Woah, woah, don’t blame the hair,” Steve said as he pointed to his favorite feature, “The hair is not the problem!”

“I’m just saying,” Y/N chuckled, “The hair and you being around boosted his ego…but it’s nice. Except the cat thing when he’s flirting.” Steve cringed at the memory of Dustin doing the “rrrrr” sound he so often did.

“Yeah I was kinda waiting for him to grow out of that.” The pair both fell into laughter at the thought of Dustin - someone they both held dear - only being brought back by Y/N asking,  “Can I do anything else for you?” 

“Just enjoy yourself,” He smiled at her. “Actually, if you could get the wine out of the fridge…..I might have splurged because you’re back.”

“Steve,” Y/N said as she cooed his name on her way to the fridge, “Don’t splurge on my account! I’m just happy to get to spend time with you.” 

“Welp, I should have kept the receipt then.” He plated the pasta. “ Oh, speaking of splurging...you’re gonna hate this,” He smirked. 

“Steve Harrington,” Y/N put the hand not holding the bottle of wine on her hip as she looked at him with mock scolding, “What did you do?” 

“I got Pretty Woman, definitely not because it’s your favorite movie. I just happened to be available at Family Video and I had Keith hold it all day for me.” Y/N literally melted on the spot. She just looked at this man and she knew she was down bad. She had no words and could only smile at him, like he had hung the moon. “Y/N? Hello Y/N?”

“Well I mean,” She started, coming back to earth with a blush on her cheeks, “If you went through all that effort, I suppose we just have to watch it, now don’t we?” 

“I guess so,” He handed her a plate. “Listen it’s a special occasion so if you don’t like the pasta we can order take out. I will not judge or be offended.”

“Steve, I will love anything you make because you made it,” shit, she thought, that was a lot…but I can’t unsay it. So she just walked over and set the bottle of wine down on the table and got two glasses - the only two he had - out of the cabinet. He brought both plates out to his tiny dining room table, practically only enough for two. But she was the only other person other than Robin who ate here, so it didn’t really matter. As they sat to eat, he couldn’t help but feel at peace. He couldn’t help but feel like spending the rest of his life in Hawkins wouldn't be so bad. Maybe getting out every now and then with her wouldn't be that bad. As long as they had a van to drive around in. 

The pair finished dinner and Y/N was up, taking Steve’s plate to wash it before he could get a word of protest in. 

“You cooked, I’ll clean,” she had said before he could speak, “That’s how this works.” He smiled, sort of relieved that he could rest for a moment. He chose to watch her do the dishes, not in a creepy way. You’re being creepy. He looked away, going to set up the movie. 

“Is it okay if I start it? You might just miss the opening.”

“I am so sure I have this movie memorized by now so feel free,” Y/N called from the kitchen as she continued to clean, making sure everything was dried and put away before joining Steve on the couch. 

Soon enough the two were invested in the action, Julia Roberts walking down the street to Pretty Woman, one of Steve’s all time favorite songs. He felt the couch shift ever so slightly as Y/N pulled her feet up, getting even cozier on the couch and moving closer to him as a result. He wasn’t sure what to do next. Should I put an arm around her? 

“I love this song,” He said. Smooth.

“Me too,” she said with a nod. The next pan had the pair watching as Julia Roberts caught sight of the store she had been turned away from earlier in the film…the same attendant on shift.

“This is my favorite part,” Steve whispered. 

“You have a favorite part?” Y/N whispered back. 

“Of course I have a favorite part. This movie is iconic. How uncultured do you think I am?” He nudged.

“Well between dinner and your choice in film clearly I have given you less credit than you deserve,” she shot back with a smile. He turned to her, not expecting such a  genuine statement, and watched the warm glow of the TV flicker against her face. It was soothing in a way. He felt a warm rise up into his face and quickly turned away. Get a grip Steve. 

“Hi. Do you remember me?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“I was in here yesterday, you wouldn’t wait on me.”

Steve sat up straighter, hitting her thigh with excitement. 

“Oh my god, oh my god.” Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle at his excitement.

“Oh.”

“You work on commission right?”

“Ah yes.” 

“Big mistake. Big,” The pair said at the exact same time. “Huge.” They looked at each other, their smiles faded and replaced with something else. Something deeper. 

And with that, Steve shifted his position on the couch, grabbed Y/N’s face, and pressed a long awaited kiss on her lips, finally. He had been thinking about kissing her from the day she kissed him when they were in the seventh grade. A quick peck, a bet, not a real kiss. It wasn’t fair she had kissed him first and that it was so short, not even enough time to blink. He knew that someday when he got to kiss her again, he’d cherish every moment of it. 

Y/N’s eyes went wide for a second, in shock that this was occurring before leaning in, totally reciprocating. She couldn’t help herself, deepening the kiss to prove it was real by placing a hand ever so slightly in Steve’s hair, her fingers running to his roots. Holy shit. 

They moved closer and closer together, continuing to kiss, neither pulling away for air for fear that if they stopped for even a second the other would disappear back into real life once more. Y/N’s heart was beating out of her chest as both their hands wandered, trying to touch everything all at once but also so unsure on where to put their hands. At this point she was basically sitting just to the side of Steve’s lap but he wanted her, needed her closer. In one solid motion, he pulled her into his lap, his hands roaming her body. There was urgency to both of their movements, both allowing soft moans to fall at how nicely they fit together. As much as Steve wanted to treasure each and every second, kissing her like she was his life support, he couldn’t help his hands from coming to rest on her ass. He used the next leverage to pull them even closer into each other which drew a gasp from Y/N - finally making him pull away. 

“You alright?” He asked breathlessly. 

“God, yes,” Y/N moaned as she kissed him again, keeping her hands in his hair, “Fuck Steve, please don’t stop.” 

“Fuck,” Steve swore as her begging without him even having to ask, instinctively grinding his hips against her. The whimper she let out had him on the verge and they were both still fully clothed. Her legs coming to wrap around his waist so that she could feel even closer to him was the nail in the coffin. He needed her. Now. 

Steve broke away from the kiss only for a moment but Y/N didn’t cease, beginning to kiss up and down his neck until she found a spot that made him groan. She focused on it with a fervor as Steve brought his hands up to the top button of her dress since the whole thing was a button down. He kept his hands there as a “May I?” and when Y/N pulled back to nod at him, he didn’t hesitate. Steve went back to kissing her as he slowly unbuttoned her dress, bit by bit, wanting to not look until he was fully done. This proved to be a difficult task too but luckily Y/N helped him out, starting at the bottom as he made his way down. The second their hands met and the last button was undone, Steve couldn’t help but to break their kiss to look at her. His hands came to rest on her hips as he pulled away, sucking in a sharp breath. Steve had never been one to believe in God but to see the woman he had been chasing after for years undressed in his lap wearing lingerie- and Jesus Christ not just any lingerie. His favorite kind. 

It was a light blue and mesh material, almost completely see through other than being covered in beautifully detailed lace flowers. Again, Steve Harrington was pretty sure he didn’t believe in God but seeing Y/N looking better than any porno he had ever even dreamed up - he was ready to start praying. 

“Is…is it ok?” Y/N asked quietly as she looked at Steve, her hands moving to her lap as she fidgeted with them, unsure of what to do. “I wasn’t sure if you’d like it and I know I um…I don’t look like a lot of the girls you’ve been with but-” Steve kissed her so hard and fast, one of his hands moving from her hips to tangle in her hair in an effort to keep her from falling off his lap with the force he kissed her with. He needed her to know, to feel how much he wanted her. How much it had always been her. 

“You, Y/N Henderson,” he whispered after pulling away, “Are the most stunning person I have ever seen in my life.” Y/N’s eyes went wide as she took in his compliment. How was this the same Steve she had known all her life? The Steve who didn’t know how to give genuine compliments so didn’t? The Steve who Robin constantly complained acted like a twelve year old boy and couldn’t say anything other than boobies? 

“And holy fuck,” Steve swore as he brought his hands up to her waist, just underneath her breast as he ran his thumb ever so gently over the lace. 

“You can touch me, Steve,” Y/N said gently as she brought her hand up to rest over top of his, “Please…please touch me.” 

“Fuck,” Steve swore under his breath as he didn’t think twice moving his hand up to cup her breast in his hand, marveling at how she felt under his touch. Y/N ground her hips against his with a little whimper and he fucking lost it. He pushed the dress off her shoulders so she was truly in nothing but her underwear before pulling off his shirt, not wanting her to feel like she was the only one undressed. Y/N admired him as he did and felt her heart skip a beat. Steve had filled out. He had always been a decently broad guy but the second he had allowed himself to breathe and live his life instead of merely trying to survive from disaster to disaster he had grown softer instead of being lean muscle. The muscle was underneath but he had become a bit self conscious about the additional mass.

“Is that why girls don’t like me?” He had asked Robin as they passed a joint between them, “Because I’ve…”

“Nah,” Robin had replied with a shrug, “If anything that would help your case. Like the chest hair. Girls like you just fine, you just don’t like them.”

“That’s not true-”

“Yes it is,” Robin had cut him off, “Because none of them are Y/N Henderson.” 

He had laughed then but as he had her on his lap, looking at him like he had brought the sunlight back to her dark world, he knew Robin was right. No one had ever compared to her, no one ever could. 

“I’ve wanted you for so long,” the words flew from Steve’s mouth before he knew what he was saying, “You don’t even know.” He wanted to take the confession back, afraid she'd vanish despite the grip he had on her hips but she didn’t. Instead she turned her gaze back to his face and leaned in, going to press a kiss to his lips but she stopped just short.

���I know because I’ve wanted you just as much.” With that her lips connected with his again and it felt like the sky burst open. He pulled her closer than he thought possible, her hands coming to tangle in his hair as they kissed, rough and messy, teeth clashing as they both took what they had so desperately wanted. While Y/N was content with her hands tangled in Steve’s soft hair, Steve’s hands explored every inch of her exposed skin, one arm wrapping around her low back to keep the two of them rocking against each other with abandon. Y/N’s soft moans and the feel of her lips against his had Steve barreling towards the edge with shocking speed but he knew he didn’t want to finish still dressed on the couch. No, he wanted to be in her. 

“Y/N,” He pulled away, the pair both breathing heavily, “I want to-”

“Me too,” Y/N breathed heavily as she looked at him, hands moving to caress his face and press kisses to his neck, “Your room?” She didn’t have to ask him twice, Steve’s hands coming to hold her ass as he picked her up. Y/N swore Steve took only three strides before she found herself pressed underneath him in his bed, his lips already back on hers. Her nails raked up and down his back gently and Steve wasn’t content with that. No, he wanted to be able to feel her, see evidence of this tomorrow, otherwise he wouldn’t believe it was true. His one hand came back to grasp at her one breast, tweaking her nipple roughly making her cry out in pleasure while his other hand trailed down to her underwear. The sheer material allowed him to feel just how wet she was as he trailed a finger up and down her slit, a gasp leaving her as her eyes flashed open. 

“Shit,” He swore as he felt her, “So fucking wet. For me?”

“Yes,” Y/N said through gasps as she grasped him tightly, “For you Steve, all for you.” Steve would have smirked under normal circumstances but he felt so out of control all he could do was groan at her words and continue to feel her, rocking his hips against anything he could to try and relieve some tension from his body.

“Please don’t tease,” she begged him without the man even having to ask, “Please Steve, I just…want you now.”

“My fingers?” He asked between kisses and hickeys he pressed to her neck, taking the time to claim her as his. 

“No, I want-”

“The answers are my finger or my mouth, baby,” Steve said as he pulled back, continuing to stroke his fingers along her slit, daring to dip just the tip of one in over her underwear but denying her more until she asked for it. “Can’t have anything else until you’re warmed up-”

“I am, I am, please Steve,” She begged, seeming to be on the verge of tears from how badly she needed him, “Can I…no more pants Steve. Wanna see you, all of you.” Steve wasn’t going to deny her a thing as badly as he wanted to finger her until she came around him, he would do whatever she asked. He climbed off of her and rose, bringing his hand to his jeans but Y/N moved and put her hand over his. 

“Can I do it?” Steve’s mouth dropped open ever so slightly but he nodded as he closed it, moving his hands to her hips to give her full reign. She took his moment of submission to undo the button on his jeans, and then the zipper, before putting her hands through the loops and pulling them down. They fell to his ankles and he took a moment to step out of them, his hands on her hips pulling her into him as all that remained between the two was their underwear, allowing Y/N to feel Steve so much more than she had been able to before. 

“Fuck Steve,” She swore as she brought her hand down to stroke him through his underwear causing the man to groan, “You’re so…wow…” Steve didn’t waste a second, kicking her legs apart a bit with his feet so he could bring his hand down to cup her sex once more, pushing her underwear to the side as he pressed a finger into her. 

“Shit,” Y/N’s knees buckled a little bit at the intrusion and her grip on him stuttered. 

“Lay down for me,” he commanded as he withdrew his fingers only for a moment, bring it to his mouth with a groan as she compiled, “Fuck you taste good.”

“Can I taste you?” Y/N asked as she laid in bed, his bed, and looked up at him with an angelic gaze. 

“Not today, baby,” he cooed as he climbed on top of her, his fingers pushing her underwear aside again with ease as he slipped two fingers into her making her moan, “I’m already close and if you blew me, I wouldn’t be able to do what I really want.” 

“And you want…?” Y/N asked between little gasps as he found that spot inside her that had her nails scratching into his back. 

“Fuck,” Steve swore again as he burried his face into her neck as her hand moved inside his boxers, stroking him in earnest. “To be inside of you. Please.” Y/N moved her hand and brought both of her hands down to her underwear, pushing them off and kicking them to the ground as Steve stripped off his own. She couldn’t help but look at him, fully naked on top of her and looking like a Greek god. 

“You’re so handsome Steve Harrington.” The honesty of her compliment had Steve melting as he reached into his bedside table and grabbed a condom out of the unopened box. Y/N took it from his hands and ripped it open with ease, slipping it onto him as he kissed up and down her neck.

“And you’re so beautiful Y/N Henderson.” Y/N smiled and allowed her one hand to come back to his hair, that combined with the way he stroked himself made him groan. He lined himself up with her entrance and ran his tip over her folds for a moment before remembering her beg not to tease - not that he could even if he wanted to. He was so desperate he knew the second she gave him the ok he would slip into her without a second thought. 

“Can I-”

“Please.” Without another word, Steve began to press into her as gently as he could manage. The room turned into a mix of moans and swears as Steve fell to his elbows, bringing them impossibly close as Y/N’s nails dug into his back as she buried her face into his chest. The first few inches already had her so tight around him as he paused to revel in the feeling. Steve gently tangled his fingers into her hair to move her head from his chest, wanting to see her. Y/N must have caught on as she allowed her head to fall back on the pillow looking up at him in awe. 

“You okay?” Steve asked as the hand that was in her hair moved to cup her cheek. 

“Feels so good,” Y/N breathed out as she looked at him, her eyes watery from the feeling as she allowed her one hand to fall from Steve back and down onto the bed. “S’big.” Steve would have normally chuckled and made some comment about his ego being inflated too much but he couldn’t focus on anything except the way she felt around him and that he was less than halfway in. 

“Doing such a good job,” He praised, trying to keep his voice even as he brushed some of the curls that had fallen around her face away so he could fully see her. “Too much?” She shook her head adamantly which made Steve smile. Seeing Y/N Henderson, one of the most composed and well spoken people he knew, reduced to nonverbal because of him was becoming his new kryptonite. He used his hand not bracing himself above her to hoist her leg over his hip, bringing them closer even still. He then took a moment to lace his hand with hers as he pressed her hand into the bed. Y/N was so distracted by this she didn’t even notice Steve pulling out almost all the way before fully pushing in. A soft moan slipped from Y/N’s lips as her eyes squeezed closed but that didn’t work for Steve. She was holding back. He knew it. And he didn’t want her to. 

“Y/N, honey,” he spoke between kisses to her neck and lips and pretty much anywhere else he could reach, “Wanna hear you. Maybe some noise for me, hm?” 

“But,” Y/N said as she looked up at him, her lust blown eyes blinking gently, “It’s embarrassing-”

“It’s beautiful,” he praised as he gently rolled his hips into her, getting her used to the movement and feeling, “Everything about you is.” Y/N melted and as she felt his tip prod that spongy spot deep inside of her she let out a real moan, her inhibitions slipping away with the pleasure. 

“That’s it,” Steve cooed, “That’s it-oh fuck-” Steve swore as began to rock into her at a harder faster pace as he felt her clench around him. “So damn tight, fuck Y/N.”

“Steve please,” she whimpered as she pulled him closer. 

“Yeah? That feel good?” He said, increasing his pace and making sure to press as deep into her as he could with each thrust. Y/N felt like she couldn’t breath, feeling like she could feel him all the way in her stomach. Steve clocked his too, their hands no longer laced together as Y/N had decided she needed one to scratch his back up and another tangled in his hair, so he was able to trail one of his hands down to where he knew he was in her. He pressed down and watched as Y/N’s mouth formed a little o, her eyes rolling back as he felt her cunt start to flutter around him. 

“All the way in there, honey,” he cooed, through gritted teeth as he tried to hold off his own end until she had found hers. Keeping his hand there, he used his thumb to draw soft slow circles on her clit. That contrasted with the way he was fucking her so rough but with so much passion and praise had her teetering on the edge. 

“Steve-Steve I’m gonna-”

“Let it go honey,” he whispered before pressing a firm kiss to her lips. “Cum for me.” And she did, hard. Her cunt clenched impossibly tight around him, her eyes squeezing closed and mouth forming an o in a silent scream as her release coated his lower abdomen. 

“Holy shit-oh fuck,” Steve swore as he fell to his other elbow, not able to do anything more than let his release follow hers. He came with a high strangled groan - a sound Y/N was sure had come straight from the heavens had it not been so damn sinful. He slowed the pace of his thrusts as he rode out his orgasm but didn’t pull out as he all but collapsed on top of her before he realized oh shit I’m crushing her. He went to move but Y/N’s hands held his head to her chest. 

“Stay,” her plea was a strangled whisper as she tried to catch her breath. And he did, knowing he’d never question her and her wishes, never for a second. He laid on top of her, their breathing syncing as he could feel himself soften, still inside her. He felt his eyes begin to droop and knew he couldn’t go to sleep no matter how comfy he was. Not until he had checked on her. 

“Y/N?” He asked softly as he pushed up on his elbows to look at her. Her eyes fluttered open as they had been previously closed as she just took it all in while playing with his hair. 

“Mhm?” She smiled at him, glowing with sweat and adoration. All words left him as he rolled onto his side, still inside of her and moved her to face him. He just wanted to hold her, that was all he wanted. So he did. Steve wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in so her face was nestled into his neck as he just took in the weight of her in his arms, memorizing every detail of this moment. He knew then that while this was the first night she’d rest in his arms, it wouldn’t be the last. This, Y/N was his forever. 

Yay! I do love Steve very much and while I mainly have written for Eddie in the past, this idea kept coming back to me! Hope you all enjoyed and requests are open!

#stranger things x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x yn #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut

[stevebabey]

let the kisses linger

word count: 3.3k summary: Steve Harrington is not your boyfriend, not yet. So far you’ve had a couple sweet kisses and an infuriating amount of dates spent with him making you nervous. Now, you just want to kiss him like you mean it, more than a peck, and maybe ask him to be your boyfriend while you do it. Steve beats you to it, on both counts. [cheeky tiny makeout + gn!reader (but r is mentioned to wear a bikini) + first relationship!reader]

It starts with a touch.

You’ve come to learn it always does with Steve. Fingers skirting along any bare skin he can find, drawing a line on your waist when just a sliver is exposed. Along the ridge of your neck, curling his hand to rest against your shoulder. His fingertips tease at your neck, feather-soft touches that can make you shiver if you’re not expecting it.

You think he does it just to see the goosebumps that trail in the wake of his touch. From the way he always grins, like the cat that got the cream, you’re probably right.

Steve can’t help it. You’re so responsive.

Maybe it’s because it’s new, this thing between you and Steve — you’ve been on a couple dates together after a string of painfully obvious flirtations over the Family Video counter that Robin had been forced to witness. You’ve just not quite sealed the deal yet.

However, even though Steve’s had more girlfriends than he can count on one hand, this part? Never gets old.

The electricity. The dance, the build-up; getting to see how you react when you’re not quite expecting him to be as close and touchy as he is.

He adores all of it. The delightful shudder you give when he slips his fingers into your hair, gifting a soft scratch along your scalp when you two had gotten cozy during a film. Your gloriously warm cheeks give you away even though Steve can read exactly when you’re nervous.

You’re utterly precious to him — and Steve wouldn’t exchange your shy smiles, flushed cheeks, or your nervous little reactions that are all because of him, for anything in the world.

Maybe it’s because you’re new to this.

First date, first time holding hands, first kiss — you’ve given them all to Steve. With the seriousness he takes them all, wholly prepared to blow your expectations out of the water, you feel you can trust them with him.

But even with trust, there’s no quelling the sticky nervousness that runs free beneath your skin when his hands begin to wander.

At first, it made you freeze. Not sure how to relax under hands that just want to hold you, touch you, just cos’ they can.

You think it took, maybe, a whole hour for you to relax and let yourself slump against Steve on your fourth date, curled up together on the couch. You think Steve knew of your nervousness and thanked him silently for his nonchalance at your stiffness. Not one comment was made.

You had relaxed into his side eventually. Steve, of course, had then gone and wrapped an arm around you and pulled you back into his chest and you’d gone straight back to tensed up.

His arms were wound around your middle, hands resting on your tummy and you hadn’t a clue on how you were supposed to be calm about it. You had mentally cursed his pretty hands, and his warm arms, and prayed to whoever was listening to grant you some semblance of strength.

And then, the bastard had leaned down, lips ghosting the shell of your ear, and whispered, “Y’can relax, sweetheart.”

You could practically hear the grin, cursing how you tensed up more — and forced yourself to melt against him. His arms tightened, pulling you closer as if this had been his plan all along. Steve’s chuckle wouldn’t have been audible if you hadn’t been so close to him.

Yeah, he definitely knew how nervous he made you.

The difference between then and now? Now, you want his wandering touch. Steve had been so sweet and good in the beginning, a little bit of teasing to watch you blush and squirm, and then he’d back off. Make sure you were actually comfortable.

You’re not sure you’ll shake the nerves with him — it’s just a Steve thing. He’s gorgeous, you’re nervous, the sky is blue, yadda yadda.

But how do you send a different message — tell him that he’s started a hunger in you that’s not quite satisfied with fleeting touches — when all you can do is shiver and blush when he puts his hands on you?

However you do, you need to figure it out, like, stat.

Today, in the blistering swell of summer, it’s getting near unbearable. At the Harrington house, Steve’s invited the party around for a bit of a pool party and you think you might die if you get to see him shirtless for any longer without getting your hands on him.

Steve’s meanly decided to forgo his shirt. It leaves him walking around in only slightly too short swim shorts and a smirk that says he knows exactly what he’s doing.

You get a tasty eyeful of his warm tan skin on display through the patio doors, your eyes tracking each mole on his skin. He’s scooping the pool free of leaves and you honestly feel like this is the start of some shitty porno with you lusting over the pool-boy. You’re fairly sure he knows you’re staring which makes it worse. He’s evil.

The muscles in his back ripple as he cleans, biceps bulging deliciously and you might seriously start drooling at the sight—how did you get him to go out with you, again?

“You’re drooling.”

Beside you in the kitchen, big sunglasses pushing back her fringe, Robin manages to startle you with her silent appearance. You jump just a bit, tearing your eyes away from Steve — you hadn’t heard her approach.

Your hand flies to your mouth, wiping fast. Embarrassment flushes up when you swipe at nothing and Robin cackles at the sight. 

You roll your eyes but it does little to deter the heat in your face.

“I’m just messing with ya,” She nudges her shoulder against yours, her grin looking far too cheeky for your liking. Like she could read into every thought that had just been streaming through your head. You silently hope not.

“I wasn’t- there was no drooling.” You say, the conviction in your voice weakening with each word.

Robin wrinkles her nose. “That was a lie of epic proportions. You so were.”

You pout a bit, embarrassment still shining through. Robin just grins further and adjusts her sunglasses. She heads to the fridge, pulls it open, and plucks out some orange juice, beginning to drink from the bottle.

“No shame.” She says lightly, between a gulp, then reconsiders after a moment, her eyes bright. “Okay, a little shame — you looked ready to jump him right here and now.”

Your face might rival the sun in heat right now.

“But he’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?” It comes out a bit gargled from the juice she’s yet to swallow. Boyfriend comes out like bwoyfend. She continues after a swallow. “If anyone’s allowed to ogle, it’d be you, no?”

Uh oh. The B-word. The not-yet official name that you’re not sure you’re allowed to use in reference to Steve just yet.

“Um,” you cough a bit, wondering if you can skirt around the question. Yes some part of you sings, because you really really want him to be. You have to scold yourself for fibbing, even if it’s only in your head. Robin takes another swig, her eyes still on you.

“Not exactly.” You admit sheepishly, a hand coming up to rub the back of your neck. “We haven’t— he hasn’t- it’s not like that. Yet.”

Robin grins as she watches you fumble for words, screwing the cap back on the OJ. She leans her hip against the countertop, casting a glance out the window.

You go to follow her look and then think the better of it, focusing back on Robin. Like you need your blush to get any more fierce.

“Dingus is being stupid. He probably just needs a nudge.” Her eyes spy the thin cherry-red strap of your bikini, peeking out beneath your cotton shirt. “I’m sure that bikini will do the trick.”

She seems to hear herself, her eyes widening a moment later, slipping into a raspy ramble you know well. “Though, it should be said I totally believe Steve likes you for your personality. He’s not like— he wouldn’t just- he’s a multi-faceted man with many many layers!”

It all bursts out a bit frantic, so very Robin. You’re both amused at her insistence that Steve doesn’t just view you as eye-candy and grateful for the way she’s managed to melt off some of your nerves, huffing a small laugh at her dramatics.

“Who is?” Steve asks, voice cutting into the conversation.

You startle a moment, surprised. He’s standing in the doorway that leads out to the pool, both arms stretched above his head to grasp the top of the door frame, leaning into it. You can’t help the way your gaze instantly draws up along his arms, far too fixated on the delicious show of his muscles to properly focus on answering his question.

“Certainly not you, dingus.” Robin comments, already clocking the hazed expression on your face. She recognizes the same absurd flirting face on Steve she’d become far too familiar with at Scoops and takes her cue, orange juice in hand.

“People arrive in like 5 minutes, just remember!” The knowing in her tone makes you consider blushing again, just to be ashamed of how quickly she had read you for filth.

Steve certainly seems to know too. He drops his arms, waltzing in to meet you in the kitchen and you will yourself not to step back when he comes a little closer than expected.

“This is a nice little number,” he murmurs, voice low. His eyes are trained on your shoulder and before you ask what he means, his hand comes up, fingers toying with the strap of your bikini. Where his skin meets yours, fire streaks beneath it, like a connecting point of static electricity.

“You think?” You ask a little breathier than you’re intending. It nearly makes you scrunch your face up in cringe, feeling a familiar glow in your cheeks.

You don’t, only because when Steve nods, teeth scraping his bottom lip for a moment and eyes wandering over your face, he looks a little lovestruck. Like he can’t believe you’re real.

His other hand comes up, both his palms resting on your shoulders and he trails them down your arms lightly, soft touches, til both your hands are in his.

“Come show me out in the sunlight?” He asks, cocking his head back out to the pool. His hands tug you ever-so-slightly. You can’t help but oblige, letting him pull you out, barely holding back your smile as he does.

There’s just something about when he touches you. Steve Harrington is a man all about touch and you’ve been going crazy finding out just how touchy he can get when you’re the one in his heart.

You amble out onto the tiles behind him and squint just a bit at the change in lighting, the bright rays of midday casting down onto the backyard. It’s mildly warm out, balmy, and with just a hint of a breeze that ruffles your shirt for a moment. 

Steve’s feet move nimbly to suddenly redirect you both — walking you both against the side of the house, til your back presses against the wall. You’re just out of view of the sliding doors, and you’d be foolish to think it’s not by design. Come show me out in the sunlight? His words echo in your head, inciting a familiar warmth in your cheeks.

“Steve—?”

“I’m gonna kiss you now if that’s okay,” He breathes, voice suddenly a lot heavier than it had been inside. Like it might actually ache inside if he doesn’t get his lips against your skin — like perhaps your lips held the antidote to a poison that was making his blood sing for your touch.

One of his hands releases your own to travel up, curling along your jaw, fingertips sliding into your hair. His eyes are still drinking in every detail of your face, affection mixed with something darker conveyed across his features.

His fingers caress along your scalp, thumb along your neck, tantalizing touches that you’re sure he’s not even aware he’s doing. But still, he doesn’t kiss you, waiting for a yes. God, he’s sweet.

Especially considering the answer is a huge fat unanimous yes.

It’s been a yes since the moment you saw him today. It’s been a thousand yes’ piling up in the weeks of seeing him, building up from the first time you kissed him and somehow bit his lip and he had only laughed and soothed it against your own.

Your yes has been growing inside you, the desire to kiss him like you mean it and leave him pink in the face and pretty.

It only takes one tiny please falling off your lips for Steve to close the gap, his lips brushing against yours. He kisses you, gentle for a moment - til a hunger overtakes and the kisses quickly turn hot and fast.

There’s urgency coiled up beneath your skin and it bursts to the surface at his kiss, the feeling you’ve been desperately craving. Steve gives you what you want gladly.

His grip in your hair tightens slightly, his kiss turning a little more fierce, and you keen and eagerly return it. His other hand has found your waist, startling a small gasp out of you when his warm palm covers your hip and bring you closer. His lips break away, just enough to take in some air and let you breath a moment, then he dives back in.

Kissing Steve, you’re quickly learning, is pure delirium.

His lips are soft and greedy and he steals kisses as quick as you can give them. There’s a quiet hum in the back of his throat, borderline a groan — and when you remember your hands, moving them from awkwardly hovering at your side to cup his face, fingers delving into his hair, the groan breaks free.

“You,” He pauses his attack of affection, lips still an inch from yours. Your eyes blink open, not aware of when they had closed. Steve’s scanning your face, looking for something, lips already pinker from your kisses. “You good? Not too much f’you?”

Your heart pounds a little faster at his care. His attentive gaze tracks your emotions to make sure he hasn’t pushed you too far, that you’re not overwhelmed by the affection. He’s so fucking nice.

You are overwhelmed, just a bit. It’s impossible not to when Steve kisses the way he does; so sweet, and like he envies anything that’s ever touched your lips. It’s pure passion, in a way you can’t even begin to describe.

The heat under your skin burns hotter. The places he touches you — his fingers in your hair, his hand on your waist, the press of his body against yours — all glow gloriously warm. Steve looks so stupidly hot, you nearly want to whine aloud about how unfair it is.

His chest is heaving a bit, a flush up his neck, his hair tousled from your grip on it. In the buttery sunlight, he’s golden and the same moles you had been staring at not 10 minutes ago look even more divine this close. You want to kiss each one, connect them with a press of your lips, and leave little marks of your own.

You want to devour him; you start and answer his question, with another kiss.

Steve’s surprise is only shown in his parted lips, a small gasp swallowed in the kiss, and you take it as an invitation, a hot swipe of your tongue across his lower lip. You take it between your own, a ghost of a nibble that makes him shudder delightfully beneath you.

Steve kisses back fervently and just when you think you’ve got the rhythm, sighing into his mouth, he pulls back. You make a noise of dissatisfaction and he chuckles lowly at it.

You don’t even get a moment to ask what’s wrong, your eyes still comfortably closed as Steve stays close, pressing his forehead down against yours. In a raspy whisper, just for you, he says, “Be mine?”

Your eyes fly open at that, some pocket of air whooshing out your lungs. He’s watching you intently, caramel eyes that give away his nervousness even if his voice hadn’t wavered. This close, you can see a smattering of freckles that dot his nose and you swear, inside your chest, your heart just sighs. He’s so pretty it hurts.

You’ve only been awed silence for a few seconds before his nose nudges yours, hand on your waist pulling you even closer. Before you can find your words, he asks it again— in between peppering soft kisses up the side of your face. “Be mine, please?”

“You- You wanna be my boyfriend?” You ask, not meaning to sound so disbelieving.

A nervous laugh titters out as you lean in closer instinctively. Your heart feels as though it’s going to beat out of your chest, as wild as a hummingbird’s wings, and it makes you grin— your lips curl up involuntarily, completely unable to help the way you beam.

“Of course,” Steve laughs lightly, nuzzling his nose against yours. Then, because he seems to have a pattern of being awfully repetitive today, his voice turns softer, all sincere when he whispers, “Of course.”

Damn him. Every time you think you’re close to settling those butterflies, to biting back the nerves that make your spine tingle, he swoops in and one-ups himself — does or says something else stupidly romantic so that all you can is grin like a dope.

You’re not proud of the giddy little noise that slips out of you when you nod excitedly, cheeks already starting to ache from how wide your grin is. You sink your teeth into your bottom lip, trying to stop smiling enough to kiss him again but Steve doesn’t bother waiting. The next kiss is a bit fumbled, both of you smiling too much to properly kiss but one or two more softens your smiles.

You kiss him hard, remember your hands and tug him close, closer, he’s not close enough — a pleased hum comes from your boyfriend’s throat and even the word in your mind makes you smile too much to keep kissing him.

A sharp rap against the sliding doors makes you whip your head to the side, both you and Steve looking perfectly guilty of being caught in your makeout. Slightly swollen lips, bitten and pink, on the both of you, not to mention the close proximity of the pair of you pressed against the house.

“Ahem,” Robin clears her throat from where she stands, out from the doorway since she had come looking for you. “Guests are arriving if you’d cared to notice.”

Part of you droops, entirely fixated on stealing a thousand kisses from Steve and maybe leaving a few marks of your own. His disappointed huff, barely audible, lets you know Steve is well on the same page as you.

Extracting yourself from his arms, you press him back with your fingertips planted in the middle of his chest. Steve turns back to you, groans aloud like he’s about to complain, and it just furthers your smile into a smirk.

“Plenty of time for that later,” You say, still sounding too giddy to come out as confident as you’re aiming for. Internally, some part of you sings, glad you’re finally confident enough in yourself that you verge from skittish nerves into playful teasing.

Your fingers on his chest twitch, walking up to the line of his collarbones and lingering on the base of his throat. Steve watches you closely, gaze a little hungrier than before, and then he huffs again, playfully slapping your hand away from his chest.

“Oh my god, I’ve created a monster!” He covers his face dramatically and throws his head back, egged on by the laughter that escapes you. The expanse of his throat is bared, hot tan skin that is begging to be littered with love bites. You take the thought and bookmark it, for later.

“C’mon then, boyfriend.” You say, just ‘cos you can. Steve grins. Your chest burns beautifully, in a way you never want to quench.

Besides, you can quell that hunger later. He is your boyfriend now, after all.

#SLAYYYBOOOO this was fun to write #i think i say that with every piece but #I WANNA MAKEOUT POOLSIDE WITH MISTER STEVE HARRINGTON #this was written originally to write a makeout and then it kinda got too long by the time i reached the makeout lmao #oh well #[inserts bernie sanders meme] I Am Once Again Asking Is It Coherent & Does It Flow #i knooooo that i have to write in batches but it always irks me cos im NEVER exactly in the same brain #anyways bleh who cares bout that #actually i do Blease give me Feedback #would u like more of this? more of the angsty stuff? #ruby writes #ruby writes steve #steve harrington #steve #harrington #steve x reader #steve x yn #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x yn #steve fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve imagine #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington oneshot #POSTED AT 11.11 BABEY

[p3terparker]

𝗷𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗼𝘂𝘀 - 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘁𝗼𝗻

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: steve gets jealous over your friendship with eddie.

𝗮/𝗻: i finished stranger things which absolutely broke me and i am officially in a steve mood so i decided to try out writing for him :D i hope u guys like it!!

𝘄/𝗰: 1.1k

“i can’t stand that kid” steve mumbles to dustin, watching you laugh at whatever horrible joke eddie is telling you.

right now it was late at night, and your friend group, consisting of the kids + nancy, jonathan, robin, and eddie, were hanging out at steves house.

“hey! ‘that kid’ is my friend for your information. it’s not his fault that he’s not a loser and isn’t afraid to actually flirt with y/n.” dustin retorts.

“yeah yeah, whatever. i should’ve just ignored you and not invited eddie.” steve says bitterly while ripping his gaze away from you, frustrated at eddie stealing all of your attention while at his own house.

“dude, stop being such a wimp and make a move on her already. it’s so obvious she likes you.” dustin encourages, tired of hearing steve whine about you. 

“it’s so obvious who likes who?” robin enthusiastically chimes in loudly after overhearing dustin.

“jesus christ robin, can you talk any louder?”  steve groans, annoyed at everything right now. 

“well okay then, what has your panties in a twist?”

“steve is throwing a tantrum because eddie is hogging up all of y/n’s attention.” dustin says blandly. 

“i’m not throwing a tantrum!”

“dingus, are you blind or are you stupid?” robin starts. “y/n so clearly likes you that just looking at the way she looks at you makes me want to vomit. stop being a coward and go talk to her” 

“you guys are just telling me what i want to hear–”

“you know what, i can’t listen to you whine like a baby anymore” dustin says before he stands up and starts walking towards you.

“dustin what the hell are you doing?! get back over here now” steve frantically whisper-yells, afraid of what dustin is going to say to you.

“hey y/n! steve was just about to go and pick up some pizza for us. you should go with him so he doesn’t have to drive at night alone. you know he sucks at directions.” dustin suggests to you to which you happily oblige.

“oh sure, i’ll go! steve are you ready?” you say while standing up getting ready to leave.

“y-yeah, let’s go” steve stutters while following you out the door and also leaving himself a mental note to never tell dustin anything ever again.

trailing in front of you, steve opens the passenger door of his car for you to enter, trying his best to be a gentleman, which made you smile and give him a small thank you.

“soo, you and eddie seem to be close” steve says while driving, talking over the music playing on the radio.

“yeah, he’s a pretty good friend of mine” you say as you smile, oblivious to the bitter look on steves face.

“oh, that’s nice… do you- um do you like him?”

“what?! that’s insane, of course i don’t. why do you ask?” you exclaim.

“ahh i don’t know. just curious i guess.” steve says, looking conflicted which causes you not to question any further. 

after five minutes of driving and listening to open arms over the radio, steve parked his car on the side of the road.

“steve what are you–”

“can i tell you something?” he cuts you off, asking more as a statement than a question.

“um, sure? what is it?”

“i like you. so so much. seeing you with eddie or any other guy for that matter makes me so incredibly jealous. it hurts my heart so much when i think of someone else being with you. taking you out on dates. making love to you. we’re not even in a relationship and i already envision starting a huge family with you and being able to travel across the world with you and our kids. i’m sorry if i’m making you uncomfortable, but i need you to know how much i like you. it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. i just needed you to know.” steve finally finishes, leaving you sitting there with your mouth slightly agape, in complete shock.

“steve, you don’t understand how happy you just made me” you start, already seeing steves face light up. “i have liked you for so long, i’ve just been too scared to say anything. i thought you and robin had a thing.”

“me and robin?! trust me, you don’t have to worry about that. you’re the only one that i want.”

“well, since you like me and know that i like you, why don’t you ask me out already?” you say cheekily.

“you’re too cute.” steve says, already gaining back his confidence after hearing your confession to him. “step out of the car for a second.” he orders as he steps out of the car and opens the passenger door for you to walk out.

“what are you doing?” you question as he guides you to the front of the car, lifting you on top of the hood so you both are at eye level.

“y/n y/ln” he starts. 

“you are so amazing and beautiful and funny and lovely and adorable and–”

“alright, i get it steve!” you say giggling, wondering what he’s about to do.

“will you make me the happiest man alive and be my girlfriend?” he asks, already smiling because he was able to make you laugh.

“hmmm” you pretend to think. “yes!”

that was all he needed to hear before placing your face in his hands and giving you a kiss.

“i have been waiting so long to do this” he mumbles into the kiss.

“you and me both”

stepping away from you, steve looks up into the sky and starts shouting like a man who just won the lottery. 

“you hear that everyone! y/n y/ln is my girlfriend! steve harrington is dating y/n y/ln!” he screams, making you laugh and try to shush him.

“steve shut up! you’re going to wake people up!” 

“i honestly don’t care. i need everyone in hawkins to know you’re my girl now. totally not in a sexist possessive douchebag way, simply in a i’m yours and your mine type of way” he starts rambling, not wanting to cause you to run off from him already.

“steve, i get it.” you laugh. “also, shouldn’t we go get the pizza? i’m sure everyone is wondering where we’re at”

“screw them, let’s go on a date”

#steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x y/n

[cherryflavoredvamp]

needy

no thoughts besides steve harrington wearing those big 80s glasses

warnings: 18+, smutty smut, rimming (both ways), lots of ass play, steve and reader are both switches, breeding, talk of babytrapping, steve is needy and so is reader, not edited or spellchecked lol

i’m going to be 100% real with you guys, this one is nasty because i’m inconsolably horny and lovesick and you’ll probably end up getting a kink you didn’t know you had through this blurb/fic. you’re welcome xoxo love you have safe sex and don’t fuck or date anyone who doesn’t live up to the steve harrington/eddie munson boyfriend standards

“what’re you lookin at,” steve has a pen in his mouth, concentrating on the crossword laid out on the table in front of him. the two of you had been drinking coffee late into the afternoon. lazy saturdays were quickly becoming your favorite activity with him, whether it be filling out the crosswords, you reading a novel, watching cartoons. quality time and simple days like this one was more fulfilling than date nights, date nights were on fridays, the next day you always woke up in his apartment excited to make each other breakfast. steve liked strong coffee, which you’ve gotten used to and now have a taste for. but the glasses, you never got used to those, something about seeing stevie in glasses had you feeling feral and ready to jump his bones. like wild hysterical cuteness aggression had invaded your thoughts, you had to fight off the urge to rock his world every time you saw him wear them on your lazy days.

“nothin’, ” you turn your eyes back to your current novel, rereading the page you had already finished because you were so distracted you forgot what happened on said page.

a small smile played on his mouth, a knowing smile, he was more than aware of the effect the glasses had on you. the man was in gray sweatpants and shirtless for christ’s sake he knew he was torturing you. “come on, i know something’s on that mind of yours. what is it?” steve put his clicky pen behind his ear and gave you this cute quizzical look.

“you,” you pointed at him accusingly.

“be careful who you’re pointing fingers at, miss. what did i ever do to you,” steve feigned innocence, he’d been trying to get you revved up since he’d woken you up with the smell of hash browns wafting through the apartment. he knew food and coffee were sure fire ways to get your grouchy butt up before 10 am. when you’d stumbled out of bed with a blanket wrapped around your head, shielding yourself from the dreaded sunlight that flitted through all of the open blinds. steve was a natural early riser, but you? yeah, not so much. steve was holding a spatula in one hand and a pan in the other, “breakfast is served, sleepyhead,” he looked so tan and cute you had to hold yourself back from every dirty thought that filtered through your head.

“whatever, you’ve been slutting yourself around the house all morning. who do you think you are??”

steve chuckled at how silly you sounded when you were frustrated, “god, you’re adorable when you’re mad come here.”

you roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, a defiant action on your part. you wanted to get under his skin as much as he got under yours, he’s not the only one who can tease.

“ok fine, be like that,” steve stormed over to the counter, refilling his mug for the third time today with a slight pout on his pretty face.

payback time

you get up and follow him until your behind him locking your hands around his lower stomach and pulling him towards you. “be like what exactly, stevie?” you kissed his back and rested your head there and hummed, “i’m not doing anything wrong, am i,” you let your hands roam to the front of his sweats and find he’s already hard for you. he lets out a faint gasp when you palm him through the soft material.

“i- i what are you talking about,” steve stuttered and blushed, thankful that you couldn’t chastise him for the face he was making.

“you forgot what you said to me already, that figures, your brain is mush when i touch you, huh? aw you’re so cute when you’re flustered,” you use your tip toes to get a glance at steve’s flushed face. he rolls his eyes at you and you giggle in return.

steve let’s put a strangled breath, “p-please touch me, baby i’ll die if you don’t.”

“you’re so dramatic, i am touching you,” you ran your hands over his hips and grazed his cock lightly with your fingers over his sweats.

“no, baby, here, i need you here,” steve grabbed your hand and shoved them into his boxers. “i need you, fuck, i need you bad,” steve whimpered and humped your hand shamelessly and with need.

“now was that so hard to ask for, you didn’t have to tease me all morning to get me to touch you. you have to use your words, stevie.”

“i like teasing you, m’ sorry,” steve gripped the counter while you pumped his cock in your soft hand.

“you’re such a bad boy, humping my hand like you didn’t tease me on purpose all morning,” you release your grip on him and tell him to lay down for you on the bed. steve wastes no time and rushes to your shared bedroom. laying on his back, all ready for you to do whatever you wanted to him.

you lie on top of him and kiss him sloppily, his favorite. you’re both all tongues and moans, he grabs your ass with want, “take these off, wanna feel you,” steve says, he sounds so needy and desperate you decide he’s earned it. once you flung your panties to the side steve’s spitting on his fingers and toying with you.

“you’re being so good i guess you deserve this,” you moan into his mouth and kiss down his neck.

“mm now this,” steve tugs on your pajama shirt, “please?”

“since you’re being so polite,” you remove your shirt and squeal a little when steve pulls you close and smothers himself with your tits, licking and sucking and not wanting to let you go. “wow you really needed this, didn’t you?” steve nods his head and squishes your ass to his crotch. steve pushes his pants and boxers past his ass in desperation, “gotta feel you,” he groans when you grind down on him.

“feel better, stevie?”

“mm, yeah but it’s not enough,” steve flips you over so you’re under him now, undressing for you completely and sparing no time with diving between your legs. “you know what i want,” steve slaps your ass and flips you onto your stomach. a sort of muffled moan slips off your tongue when his mouth licks through your folds and to your asshole.

“you’re so dirty, baby,” your hands are gripping the sides of the pillow for dear life.

steve let’s out a dark chuckle at this, “but you love me for it, don’t you? who else could do this to you?”

“mm..only you,” you answer by holding the back of his head to you, he’s so dirty, moaning while rimming you.

“tight little thing, aren’t you,” he groans pinching your clit and continuing his assault on your poor ass that he’s gripping and smacking relentlessly.

you run your hands through his hair and pull on it, to which he moans, “dirty boy, aren’t you?”

“yeah baby, whatever you want me to be,” steve leaves a deep hickey on your ass cheek and bites down a little before letting up to give you a break.

“fuck me,” you beg him and you’re completely aware of how crazy it makes him, whining because you need him so bad.

“don’t have to tell me twice, look who’s the needy one now, huh?” steve has your chin tilted up at him, pushing two fingers in and out of you , “you want it bad? show me how bad you really want it.” you do the first thing that comes to mind, rubbing his cock with your foot. “oh my god, fuck,” steve moans, “fine, but taste yourself first,” he lets you suck the taste of yourself off of his fingers.

“yum,” you lay back on your elbows to slightly prop yourself up. steve’s crushing his body weight on top of you and you fall back onto the covers with his hands all over you. “you’re groping me, stevie.”

“you like it,” he spits on your pussy before slamming himself into your cunt. there’s not an inch of space when the two of you are like this, you’re grabbing his ass and he’s crushing you with his weight, tongues and lips, kisses and scratches. steve wants more though, you can feel the question coming before he asks it, he always does this. “please,” it’s said as a question and you know what he means, you smirk knowing he needs you just as bad as you need him. when you don’t say anything he says please again but it’s more of a whine while he grabs your hand and places it on his ass.

you nod and steve’s climbing over you to reach into the bedside table for lube, “ok, i’m ready,” and he fuck himself back into you. he’s fully laid out on top of you with his whole weight, grinding himself into you and holding your face while you kiss sloppily. you reach for his ass again, pushing him down onto you more and finding his hole, pushing a middle finger in and curling it slightly. steve whimpers, “more,” you add your pointer finger and ask him sweetly if that feels better and suddenly he’s a fucking mess on top of you. pathetically humping and grinding himself into you while you fingered his tight hole.

steve’s sucks on your neck, surely leaving a hickey in his wake and then licking over the spot, “are you a vampire, baby?”

steve’s so fucked out and sweaty he can barely concentrate on the words you’re saying so he just smiles and crashes his lips to yours with a feverish need. he’s fucking you into the mattress with reckless abandon, and when every part of you is soaked with his sweat he finally comes with a string of curses and kisses littered on your tits. “mm,” steve pulls out of you and stares at his come inside of you, pushing it back in with his fingers. “bout’ time i breed this pussy,”

you half gasp and half laugh at this, the condom completely skipped your mind. “stevie! why didn’t you remind me?”

“why remind you when i can babytrap you?” steve smirks and kisses your lips softly.

“oh my god! you can’t say that,” something about that gave you butterflies even though you know it shouldn’t.

“but my come looks so pretty in you,” steve laughs and you know he’s not joking but you laugh with him anyways.

“you’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“whatever you say, baby,” and gives you a wink that could make you forget just about anything.

later that night steve is tossing and turning and it’s obvious he’s not going to stop until you do something about it.

“knock it off, i’m tryin to sleep here,” you mutter into the pillow.

steve flips over so he’s facing you, wordlessly pulling you towards him so you’re chest to chest, his thigh wedged between your legs.

“what do you want stevie,” you say running your fingers through his fluffy hair.

“use me,” he answers and rocks your hips for you on his thigh. you grind yourself down on him and kiss his pouty lips. you do this for a little while until you’ve found a rhythm and then turn him over on his back. you sink yourself down on his hard cock and wonder if he’s been hard this whole time he’s been tossing and turning, you lazily grind on him until he comes in you for the second time tonight. you roll over next to him where he holds you and kisses your shoulder, “if i get hard again just put me outside, i’m sorry honey you just drive me crazy.”

if only he knew how crazy you were for him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #perv!steve harrington #steve harrington x reader smut #my fanfics <3

[sanguineterrain]

redamancy | steve harrington

Summary: redamancy (n.) - the act of loving someone who loves you back; a love returned in full // or, four times you kissed Steve Harrington, and one time he finally kissed you back.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 5.2k

Warnings/tags: friends to lovers, 5+1 fic format, no use of y/n, FLUFF, PINING PINING, injured s4 steve, hospital setting, general vecna angst (eddie's alive bc i will never kill eddie in my fics), bed sharing, happy ending, and kissing. if that wasn't clear. :)

A/N: fun fact: this is the first time i've written a 5+1 fic! technically it's 4+1 but whatevs. if you enjoy this fic, please give it a reblog and support your local steve harrington tumblrina.

divider by firefly-graphics

i. the promise 

"Would you ever get married?" 

You open your eyes. The setting sun nearly blinds you through the windshield. Immediately, you stick out a hand to block it. 

You're still reclined all the way back in the passenger seat, because Steve's fancy schmancy BMW can do that. He frequently lectures you about doing it while he's driving. Have I taught you nothing? Road safety! 

"I mean, I guess so," you say. "If someone ever wants to put a ring on me."

You sit up and pull down the sun visor. Steve turns. His hair lightens in the summer, shades of reddish blond peeking through. He insists his hair has never been anything but brown, fiercely pledging his allegiance to brunettes. You coo at his highlights all the same. 

"I want to," he says after a minute. "I wanna get married." 

You're parked down the block from your house. You should've gotten out ten minutes ago, but there's never any rush when you're with Steve.

"The line to wed you will be out the door, champ," you say around a grin. 

"Hm. I dunno." He stretches in his seat. "Maybe if I was the same guy I was a few years ago." 

You wrinkle your nose. "I doubt that."

"But what can I really offer?" he continues. "I'm just some guy who can't get into college."

"That doesn't mean no one will marry you. Some people who go to college are dumber than dirt. They get married. College has nothing to do with it. You can go, if you really want to. One rejection doesn't say anything about you, Steve." 

"I guess."

You pull the lever on the side. The seat shoots up with a brrrap! It clicks as you straighten. 

"Where did all this come from, anyway?" you ask. 

Steve shrugs. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous."

He smiles. "I like to live on the edge."

"Contemplating marriage like the world's biggest sap. Definitely edgy."

Steve hums. His hands are in his lap. He picks at a cuticle, a habit he’s recently developed. You wonder why he’s so anxious. 

"Two people from our graduating class got married last week."

Your eyes widen. "You're kidding."

"Nope. Lisa Schell and Gary Brewer." 

"Wait, didn't she cheat on him?"

"Yeah, but he slept with her sister, so I guess they called it even."

You shake your head. "That's insane. They're literally babies, Steve. That's like Dustin getting married."

Steve scowls. "He's not allowed to get married before me." 

"Not even to his possibly fictional Suzie?" 

"Not even to her."

You stare at the freckles on Steve's face and how his frizz kind of looks like a halo in the light. You imagine the feel of his hair in your hands, the warmth of his scalp.

"I'd marry you," you say. 

Steve's eyebrows shoot up. 

"What?"

"Like, if you were in a pinch."

He looks at you sideways. You flatten, then scrunch your hands over your knees. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth. 

"I'm talking about spending the rest of my life with someone, you know. Not borrowing fifty bucks."

"Fifty bucks is a lot of money for some of us, Harrington."

"That’s probably how much Lisa's wedding dress cost."

"I hope she kept the receipt."

Silence descends. A soft breeze blows through your cracked window. You want to search Steve's glove box for gum, but you've just told him you'd marry him, so you can't do anything except think about the fact that those words came out of your mouth. 

"Are you…" Steve begins, then pauses. "Why did you say that?"

"Because you're worried, for some incomprehensible reason, that no one will marry you."

"I scoop ice cream for a living."

You level him with a look. 

"Steve. We're kids. Cut yourself some slack."

His eyes turn hollow. They've been doing that lately. You wish you knew why. 

"I don't really feel like a kid these days," he says. 

Something about the way Steve sounds makes you want to climb over the console and curl into him, cradle his head to your neck. Which is crazy. You guys don't do that. Steve isn't yours to do that with. 

"Let's make a pact," you say softly. 

He meets your eye. "A pact?"

"Mmhm. Let's say if both of us aren't married by… thirty, then we'll get married."

"Well, I don't want a pity marriage." 

You roll your eyes. "It's not a pity marriage, Steve."

"Thirty is so late! You really think I won't be married by then?" he asks. 

"No, I don't think that. I already said folks will be lined up to marry you," you say. 

"I can't wait till I'm thirty." 

"Or you'll turn into an old maid?" 

"Meh meh meh," he mocks without any heat. 

You purse your lips so you don't smile. "Fine. We'll split the difference. Twenty-four?"

Steve considers that. Really considers it. It suddenly occurs to you what you're promising and who you're promising it to. You wonder if you'll both forget about it. Or brush it off. Oh, what did we know? We were kids!

Except Steve doesn't feel like a kid. And maybe you don't either, as much as you wish you do. 

"Do you mean it?" he asks. 

"Of course I do."

"No, seriously." He's serious. "I mean it, so if you don't…"

"Steve, I said I mean it. I do."

"You'll marry me?"

"I will."

"Swear on it."

You hold out your right pinkie out, waiting. Steve hooks his finger over yours. Impulsively, you kiss your linked pinkies. To show that you really, truly mean it.

You try to picture it. What walking down the aisle to meet Steve at the altar would feel like. You wonder if he'd keep his hair long, like it is now. You like it long. Would he keep it long for you?

"Will you buy me a ring?" you ask. "If we get married, I mean."

"Of course I'd buy you a ring," Steve says. "I'd get you anything you wanted."

"Okay." Your heart hammers in your chest. "I'm gonna go home."

"Alright. Want me to pull up to the door?"

"No, it's fine. Walking is good for digestion. Those milkshakes were no joke."

Steve smiles. He has such a lovely smile. His Cupid's bow is shaped exactly like a heart. 

"Same time tomorrow? It's movie night." 

Right. Your movie night. A semi-regular occasion that includes you, Steve, Robin, and the kids, sometimes. You've watched at least a dozen movies this summer together. Only this time, you're watching a movie after promising to marry Steve. 

"Sounds good," you say. "Will you pick me up?"

"Always."

Another promise. You hadn't realized how many Steve makes to you. 

"'Kay. See you."

You get out. Steve waves as he pulls away from the curb. 

Your ring finger feels bare. You rub it, hoping the feeling will go away. 

ii. the wound 

The plastic chair has turned your legs numb. Your butt is about to follow. 

Can butts go numb? You're not sure. You'll find out soon, though. 

You rub your eyes. God, you need sleep. 

Across the room, you catch Joyce Byers' gaze. She smiles at you, though it's brittle. You try to smile back, feeling distinctly like you might break if you stretch your mouth too far. 

She looks away, and your not-smile falls. 

"They'll let us in soon," she says, like she knows. She does know. Better than you, certainly. 

The hospital smells cold. It smells like a place people go to die. 

Your heartbeat ratchets. You shouldn't think like that. 

"You don't understand," comes Dustin's voice. He's at the receptionist's desk, flanked by Mike and Lucas. Dustin's face is red and blotchy, near tears. 

"I need to see him. You won't let me see Eddie, so—" 

The receptionist rears back, like she can't believe three children are daring to speak to her. 

"Neither patient is cleared for visitors," she says icily. "Now, for the last time: have a seat."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Joyce begin to stand, ready to herd the kids away. You beat her to it. Out of everyone in this room, you're probably the only person who has the strength to stand. 

"Guys, c'mon. It won't be long." 

They don't look at you. You don't take it personally. An hour earlier, you'd cornered Dustin and forced him to tell you what happened. What's been happening. 

So he did. And now you're here. 

You don't blame them for glaring at the prickly receptionist. But you know that won't do anything. It won't heal Steve quicker. And it won't make anybody feel better. 

"Hey, Dustin." You lay a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you like you're not Steve. You wish it was you in surgery instead. 

"Come sit," you say. 

"I need to see him," he tells you. 

"I know." Your throat tightens, threatening to trap your words altogether. You rush to get the rest out. "I do too. But this isn't going to make that happen faster. Come sit with me. Okay?"

"He'll be fine," Mike says quietly. "They don't wanna get sued by his asshole dad."

You nod, because yeah, good point. Quite possibly the first time Richard Harrington has brought anybody comfort. He's in Cancun, last you'd heard. You hope he chokes on a margarita. 

Dustin follows you. Mike and Lucas sit next to Joyce. The five of you wait. 

At some point, you fall asleep. When you wake up, it's to the contentious receptionist peering over you all. 

"Mr. Harrington is awake," she says primly. "You may see him now, young man."

Dustin flies out of the chair, Lucas and Mike at his heels. 

A part of you wants to go home, and you feel terrible for it. You feel terrible that Steve almost died, but you're the frightened one. You don't know if you can bear to see him tied to tubes and a heart monitor.

"Go on."

Joyce tracks you sleepily. Her hair is more knotted than before you fell asleep. She nods to the hallway. 

"Go see him."

You can’t voice every thought, every fear. I don’t know if I can see him like this.

“It’s good he won’t wake up alone,” she says.

“He’s got a family.” You wave your hand weakly. 

Joyce watches you for a moment. Then she gets up.

"Yes, he does." 

She holds out her hand. 

You don’t know Joyce Byers very well. This is probably the longest conversation you’ve had with her. You realize, then, that you're wrong—you’re not the one who’s strong enough to stand.

“Let’s go see him,” she says. "All of his loved ones should be there." 

God, are you really that obvious? 

You take her hand, and the two of you go down the hall.

Steve is nearly unrecognizable in the hospital bed. The kids are speaking to him, unusually quiet. They look up when you enter. 

Steve’s eyes lock with yours. 

“Hey,” is all you say.

“Hi,” he says, voice rough with disuse and getting choked by what Dustin had described as demon bats. 

“Boys, come on,” Joyce calls. “Let’s make a cafeteria stop.”

You see Dustin about to protest, but Lucas tugs his arm like he knows, and goddamn, you really are that obvious, aren’t you? 

You wait for the door to close behind you. Then you walk to Steve’s side. 

The gnarled ring of flesh around his neck makes you queasy. The rest of him isn’t much better, red and purple smeared across any skin that’s not covered by the chalky hospital gown.

You sit in the chair. It’s the same plastic kind as the ones in the waiting room, but this one doesn’t feel so hard.

“Robin called me,” you say.

Steve closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, you’d better be.” Your voice cracks. “Can’t believe you went dimension-surfing without me.”

“You’re mad at me.”

Your breath is punched out of you. 

“No,” you say softly. “My God, Steve. I’m not mad at you.”

His hand creeps to the edge of the bed. His fingers are scraped.

You take his hand and lace your fingers together. He slow-blinks. He’ll probably fall asleep in the next half hour. 

“It’s okay if you are,” he whispers. “Mad, I mean. I’d be mad too.”

You know he wouldn’t be, though. You know Steve would forgive you in a heartbeat.

“I’m not mad,” you say, equally as quiet. “I just… I was scared." 

He nods. "I'm sorry for scaring you." 

You bow your head and close your eyes. When Robin had called, you'd run to the bathroom and coughed up stomach acid.

They say he’ll make it, she'd told you, and you'd realized with violent clarity that you love him. 

But Steve doesn't need that right now. So you bury it.

You lean in and bring Steve's knuckles to your lips, taking care not to jostle him.

His eyes widen. Part of you hopes he won’t remember this conversation.

"Don't do that again," you say. “Not without me.”

"Okay,” he whispers. “I won't." 

You wait until he falls asleep, hand in his. 

iii. the brand

“There’s no way I’m getting in your death van, Munson!” Robin whines.

“Death van is an exaggeration, Buckley. If anything, it’s a life van. I’m still here, aren’t I?” Eddie asks.

“Definitely not because of that heap of metal,” Steve murmurs to you. You snicker.

It’s nearly dark, but a summer dark, where it doesn’t actually turn to night until well after nine PM. The top two buttons of Steve’s dress shirt are undone, and you can’t stop staring. It’s embarrassing, really. You’d nearly missed Eddie’s walk across the stage because of that damned triangle of tanned skin and dark chest hair.

“Why can’t we take the station wagon?” Robin asks. 

“I think Nancy already left,” you say. “Sorry, Rob.” 

“And I’ve put my car jacking days behind me,” Eddie announces, flinging his arms out. “So my van it shall be!”

Robin whips her head around to glare at Steve. 

“This is your fault,” she accuses scathingly.

“Me?!”

“You just had to go and get a flat tire yesterday.”

“Yeah, Steve,” you add cheekily. “Why couldn’t you have foreseen the dreaded timeline where Eddie drives?”

“Et tu?” Eddie asks. “I’m hurt. I’m a great driver, y’know. Better than Steve, some have told me.”

“Dustin only told you that ‘cause you were high on morphine and about to burst into tears,” Robin says.

As they bicker, Steve draws closer, so your arms brush. You close the distance, crowding him.

“Y’okay?” he asks quietly.

“Yes,” you say, startled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just checking.”

“Are you okay?”

He turns to you. He looks like he’s searching for something. You don’t know what.

“Yeah,” Steve says after a minute. “I am. Better than, actually.”

“‘Cause I’m here, right?” you ask with a gooey grin.

“Yeah. ‘Cause you’re here.”

He sounds honest, so you turn away, because you can’t handle that and his chest hair. 

"I should get to choose where we go," Robin says as you arrive at Eddie's van. "Since it may be our last trip and all."

"Funny you were in Band and not president of the drama club, Buckley," Eddie says dryly. 

"Pot, kettle."

"How 'bout Rita's?" you suggest. "Unlimited refills and no one will hassle Eddie."

"Aw, you care about little ol' me?" Eddie asks. 

"If you get us there in one piece, yes."

Eddie huffs. "No wonder you and the Hair are like this." He crosses his fingers. 

"Damn right," Steve says. "We even finish each other's—"

"Terribly cliche sayings!" you say. 

Robin looks at you for a moment, unusually smirky. Then she looks at Steve. 

"You match. Blue dress, blue tie."

"That's so if she gets lost, they know who to return her to," Steve says. 

You scoff. "More like the other way around." 

He pouts. "Hey."

"Hay is for horses," you sing, skipping ahead to Eddie's van. 

"I'm sorry, are you excited to ride in the Hell Van?" Robin asks. 

You shrug. "We could use some excitement around here, couldn't we?"

"No!" all three say.

"I've had enough excitement for ten lifetimes," Robin mutters. 

Eddie pulls the door open. Your smile quickly drops. 

"Uh, Eddie? Where the fuck are the seats?"

"Right, so, usually I only have Gareth and Jeff ride with me. Gareth always calls shotgun—"

"Shotgun!" Robin hollers, and races to the front seat. 

You stare at the single backseat chair. There's no way it's big enough for you and Steve. 

"Holy shit," Steve says, taking stock of the "backseat."

Eddie rubs the back of his neck. "Yeah… listen, if I'd known we'd be taking her, I would've put the other seat in, swear! Usually we take it out for the equipment." 

"Well, what are we supposed to do? Lay down and pray? This is how people get head injuries, Eddie," you say, arms folded. 

"Maybe we can call a cab," Steve suggests. 

"At this hour?" You shake your head. "No way. This isn't Indianapolis."

"Oh my God." Robin groans. "The solution is so obvious. Sit on Steve's lap. Boom. Now come on, I'm starving."

You tense. Steve is tactile, sure, and you've become acclimated to that over the years. 

But this? This is way, way beyond that. 

"Uh…" Steve glances at you. "Do you… I mean, if you don't mind?"

You glance at Eddie, who's got the tiniest smirk. You glower and he clears his throat, hiding his mouth behind a lock of hair. 

"I don't mind," you say, more confident than you feel. "It's a short drive."

Eddie nods. "Definitely. I'll step on it."

"Please don't step on it," Robin calls. "We're already chancing fate by letting you drive in the first place."

Eddie huffs, walking to the driver's side. "Y'know, Buckley, you are just…"

You look at Steve. He smiles at you, sweet as always. 

"This isn't gonna aggravate any injuries, right?" you ask. "Me… sitting on you?"

You wince at the wording. 

"No, should be fine. My PT gave me the all clear a month ago."

You nod tightly. "Right. Okay. You go first."

Steve climbs in, planting his feet on the floor. You go next, stooping in front of him. You catch each other's gaze for a moment. Then you laugh, suddenly trying to look anywhere but at Steve. 

"Right, so I'll just…"

You slide onto Steve's lap, trying to hold some of your weight so you won't crush him. He splays an easy hand over your belly and leans over to pull the van door shut. Your heart thunders in your chest. 

"You can sit back, y'know," he says, breath tickling your ear. "’M not made of glass."

"Didn't want your legs to go numb," you joke weakly. 

Steve makes an unhappy noise and tugs you back so you're fully seated on him. You angle yourself so you can look at him. Steve looks up at you, lightly tracing a pattern on your hip. Like you do this all the time. 

"Hi," you say, too jittery to crack another joke. 

Steve smiles gently. "Hey."

His tone is fond. You feel sick. 

"Everybody good?" Eddie asks. 

He adjusts the rear view mirror and you watch his eyebrows shoot up in the reflection. 

"You two look cozy."

"Shut the fuck up, Munson," you mumble. "Just drive, already." 

Eddie giggles like a gremlin in reply and turns the ignition.

It’s not bad, at first. Eddie takes it easy driving through Hawkins. Part of it is because he doesn’t want to attract attention. The other part is that Hopper promised Eddie a night in jail if he caught him running the stop signs again. 

You personally think it’s a bluff. Robin does not; she’s enthusiastically annoying about road safety, and points out every single sign and red light. This causes Eddie to start slamming the breaks in retaliation. 

“Holy fuck!” you yelp when Eddie hits the breaks particularly hard. “Eddie!”

Steve is quick to tug you backwards, considering you’re not belted. You scramble to grab his shoulders and twist to look at him.

“Thanks,” you say breathlessly.

He smiles, then leans away, glaring at the front.

“Really, Munson?”

“She started it!” Eddie insists. “Blame your BFF!”

“Can you drive like someone who doesn’t have a death wish?” Robin shoots back.

Steve’s hands are now on the small of your back and on your hip, respectively. Your legs hang over the side of the carseat, butt nestled quite firmly on his thighs. 

God, you’re never living this down. 

“Y’okay?” 

Steve’s breath in your ear makes you squirm. You turn to look at him.

“Fine,” you murmur. “I’m not crushing you, am I?”

“No,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

Eddie breaks again, harder than before. You slip. 

Steve reacts instantly, his hand grabbing the meat of your thigh. Your dress rides up, so it’s skin on skin. 

The momentum is worse, however, because you jerk back. Right into Steve’s face.

Your nose mashes into his, which isn’t great. But then, your lips smush against his cheek. When you pull back, there’s a smeared lipstick print.

Maybe you’re the one with a death wish.

Robin is screeching incoherently but you can't focus on anything but the smudge of pink on Steve's cheek. Your chest feels tight. 

He looks like he's yours.

"Yeah, we're fine, " Steve says, voice close enough to startle you back into the conversation. 

He looks up at you. Your hand lands on the lipstick, like if you cover it, it'll go away. Steve tilts his head, mouth open in a question. 

"Sorry," you rush out before he can speak. "I got some of my, uh, lipstick on you." 

He relaxes. 

"Oh. Thought I was bleeding or something," he says with a slight laugh. "'S okay, I can wipe it off when we get there."

"Uh-huh." 

You drop your hand. You can't stop staring. Stop staring.

The print isn't exactly in the shape of your lips, but it's close. You can see the divots and where your lips parted. If someone were to see you two, they'd assume a lot of things you're not. 

Steve's collar is wrinkled from the van ride from Hell. His neck is flushed. You wonder how your lipstick would look there. 

Eddie presses the brake, softer this time. Steve's fingers dig into the meat of your thigh anyway. More marks. 

"Alright, relax, gang," Eddie says. "We're almost there."

You touch Steve's cheek again and hope he'll forget to wash you off of his face. 

iv. the secret

It's raining. You're in Steve's bed. 

Thunder shakes the sky. You curl further into your—Steve’s—pillow. It smells like his soap and detergent. 

You used to like the rain. Not so much these days. Rain makes you think of blood on asphalt and being alone at twenty-four. Rain silences you. 

"Do you think he'll come back?" 

You've never dared to ask anyone. Not even Joyce. She'd know. She wouldn't tell you the truth, though. 

Nancy Wheeler probably could. She'd face you with that steel brow of hers and give it to you straight. 

Yes. The monster's back. You're not getting married. 

You slip your hand into Steve’s. He squeezes your fingers. Outside, the rain roars. 

"I don't know," Steve says into the darkness. 

You can't see him like this. It makes you mildly claustrophobic. Maybe you should turn on the hall light. 

"Hopper said he was dead. So did that other guy—uh, Murray. And like, Eddie's okay. And Max. El would tell us if she sensed something. It's not like he could come back without making a sound. I mean, from what she told me, she basically, like, unraveled him from the inside out. Which is pretty gross, but also a good way to keep someone dead."

He's rambling. He's rambling to distract you. 

God, what the fuck are you going to do when you're twenty-four and unmarried and Steve's forgotten all about you? 

"I don't want anyone to die," you whisper. 

Steve squeezes your hand harder. 

"No one's gonna die."

You shift closer. You can barely make out Steve's silhouette. The ends of his hair tickle your knuckles. 

"Hey," he says, and you try to find his eyes, but you can't. "Nothing's gonna happen, okay?" 

"Yeah," you say, even though something did happen, something that almost took him away from you, and you don't know if you can handle that again. 

"You can stay here as long as you want," he says. 

"I can go back to my room."

Steve threads his fingers with yours. You can't see his eyes but it's okay.

"Don't," he says. 

"Okay."

You scoot forward, closing another few inches between you two. Now, you feel Steve's breath on your face. He smells like minty toothpaste. He is alive. 

The rain batters against the windows. You could kiss him. You could kiss him right now, and no one would know except for you and him. 

His breath has begun to even out. You lean in blindly. Your lips land on his hair. 

It's hardly a kiss. It’ll be your secret anyway.

+ and, finally, the first.

"Dustin wanted chocolate milk," you say, not looking up from the tub of yogurt you're searching the date for. 

"Yeah," Steve says, parking the cart to the side. "Kid's addicted."

He opens the giant fridge door and a burst of cold air nips at your arm. You shy away. 

"Six dollars? Jesus, does it come from gold cows?"

You snort, finally putting the yogurt in the cart. You stay at Steve’s house more often than not these days, so there’s no point in getting a separate cart.

"What?" Steve asks, looking at you. 

"You're funny, that's what."

"I am?"

"You sound like somebody's grandpa."

"I do not!"

"Do too," you say sweetly. 

"Do not."

"Do too infinity."

Steve rolls his eyes. 

"Yeah, whatever. I'm a grandpa 'cause I don't wanna spend a leg and an arm on chocolate milk for the little shit? So be it."

"Steve," you begin, eyebrows drawing together. "It's his birthday. Have a heart, old man." 

"Oh, good grief," he mumbles, but he takes the carton and puts it into the cart. 

You smile. Steve shakes his head. 

"This is why I don't go shopping with you. You're an enabler."

"I am," you say happily, walking alongside him as he pushes the cart. 

"And you don't push the cart."

You tut. "Pretty girls don't push shopping carts, Steven." 

"Oh, they just find some poor sap to push it for them, huh?" 

"I'm so glad you're on board," you say, skipping ahead to the chip aisle. 

You look through the shelves and land on two types of Doritos. Cool Ranch and Original. It’s a tough decision.

“Steve, what do you think?” You hold up the bags. “Which do they like better?”

“Ranch. According to Mike, liking the original flavors of snacks is lame.”

You snicker and take three bags of the Cool Ranch. Steve pushes the cart to you. 

“I feel like we’re shopping for our kid,” you say. “We’re the awesome house everybody wants to visit because we have the best snacks and the biggest pool.”

You look up when Steve doesn’t reply. He stares at you, expression unreadable. Your smile dims.

“What?” you ask.

Steve shakes his head.

“Nothing,” he says quietly. “It’s nothing.”

“Steve, seriously. What is it?”

He shakes his head again. 

“Nothing, really. Just zoned out for a second.”

He continues to push the cart down the aisle. You watch him for a moment, then follow. The two of you quickly check off the remaining items on Steve’s list (yes, his actual, physical grocery list), and then you check out.

The cashier smiles at you both in line. She’s an older woman, with the typical poofy blowout nearly every woman over fifty gets at Brenda’s Salon in downtown Hawkins. You busily put the items on the conveyor belt while Steve takes out his wallet and makes conversation with the cashier. It’s a good routine you two have established. 

When the cashier’s done, you squeeze past the cart and grab half of the bags. Steve takes the receipt and the rest of the bags.

“You two are very sweet together,” the cashier says, her round cheeks blush-red like apples. “Have a wonderful day.”

“You too, ma’am,” Steve replies, and heads to the exit.

You’re frozen for a moment, startled until Steve calls your name. You heft the bags in your arms and hurry after him. 

Steve stops and takes two of your bags before crossing the parking lot. 

“Steve,” you say, and huff. “I can carry them.”

“Pretty girls don’t push carts or carry bags. It’s the rule, remember?”

You watch, unimpressed, as Steve then proceeds to try and get his car keys with an armful of grocery bags. When he almost drops a bag for the third time, you sigh and take pity. 

“Which pocket?” you ask, snaking your arm around.

“Back left,” he says, smiling sheepishly.

You roll your eyes, feeling disgustingly fond. You shove your hand down Steve’s back jean pocket. He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Take me out to dinner at least,” he says.

“Pretty boys don’t get taken to dinner until the pretty girl has been asked out properly,” you shoot back. 

Steve smiles, but the joke doesn’t land like it usually does. You step away as soon as you get the keys, clearing your throat. 

“Well, I hope you’ve learned your lesson about carrying all the bags, Popeye.”

You open the trunk for him, then go to open the passenger side door.

“If I don’t carry all the bags, how else am I meant to show off to the ladies?”

You pull the handle on the driver’s side for Steve and he gets in, beaming cheekily at you.

“The only person who’s watching you make a fool of yourself is me, big guy,” you say. “So, mission failed.”

You open the glove compartment and start fishing through for gum. You find a Juicy Fruit packet but it’s empty. 

“Damn, that’s what we forgot,” you say, defeatedly crumpling the cardboard. “Gum.”

You start to turn to Steve. “Do you think we—”

You’ve wondered, probably more than you should, about how Steve Harrington kisses. 

Now you know: tenderly. 

He cups both sides of your face, and you have to brace yourself on the center console for balance. Your other hand tangles in his hair. It’s as soft as you imagined, free of product, and you scrunch the baby hairs at the base of his scalp. Steve makes a quiet noise. 

You kiss until you need air. Even then, Steve doesn’t let you go far. You part with only an inch or two between you. 

“There’s gum in the middle compartment,” is the first thing he says.

“Huh?”

“In here.” He pats the compartment between the seats. “Hubba Bubba. I got it last week.”

You giggle and grab Steve’s face with both hands. His hands slip to your arms and he squeezes, smiling gently.

“What?” he asks.

“Fuck, I’m glad I know you,” you say. 

Steve kisses you again. Two. Steve Harrington has officially kissed you two times. 

You hope you’ll lose track at some point.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #stranger things #stranger things x you

[quixoticall]

This Could Get Ugly Masterlist

18+ mdni

Part 1 of Look At Us Now

Now: Everybody knows famous 80s pop rock band, The Downsides, but no one knows the reason behind their mysterious breakup at the height of their success. Rumors of love triangles, infidelity, drug addiction and more than one onstage fight have swirled around for years following the band’s split in 1989. Years later, one determined journalist is uncovering it all through a series of interviews that will finally reveal the truth.

Then: It's 1983 and The Downsides need another lead singer and you just happen to need a band--it's a perfect match. The only issue? You have to pretend to be in a relationship with your bandmate, Steve Harrington, but you can't help but be drawn to the band's broody guitar player.

pairing: s.h. x fem!reader, e.m. x fem!reader, j.b. x n.w., r.b x n.w.

warnings: It's the Daisy Jones and the Six!AU, Enemies to friends to lovers, Love triangles, sex, drugs, rock and roll, etc., fake relationships, slow-burn, pining, ANGST, bad parents all around (this is going to be long and messy), smut in later chapters, slow burn, enemies to fwb to lovers, miscommunication trope

Each chapter will also have individual warnings per chapter.

Prologue

TRACKLIST🎸

Track 1: Before the Beginning

Track 2: The Beginning

Track 3: The Upside Down Tour

Track 4: The End of the Beginning

Track 5: The Beginning of the End

Track 6: Sophomore Album Blues (coming soon)

THE PLAYLIST 🎵

BREAKING NEWS! 📰

Saubrosa--October 9, 1983

The Upside Down Tour Poster—1984

Join the TAGLIST

#steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #band AU #jonathan byers #Argyle #He's here too! #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #Steve Harrington smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x f!reader #Eddie Munson enemies to lovers #Steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington imagine #eddie munson x reader x steve harrington #nancy wheeler x jonathan byers #steve harrington x yn #eddie munson x yn

[ameliora-j]

— heaven to me 𐐪𐑂 beefy!steve

𐐪𐑂 summary → you lose your virginity to mean beefy steve

𐐪𐑂 content → fem!reader, beefy!steve, shy!reader, size kink, way too much inner monologue, virginity kink, voyeurism, dumbification, humiliation, degradation, mean!steve, bully!steve, virgin!reader, spitting kink, cnc, overstimulation, oral (f!receiving), hints of dubcon if you squint, squirting, daddy kink, hung!steve, spanking, choking, 18+ MDNI

𐐪𐑂 words → 2.7k

“okay. you can do this yn. it’s simple. ‘hi, i’m looking for a copy of grease.’” you talked yourself up as you approached family video. the second you opened the door, there he was. time seemed to stop as you locked eyes. the big, beefy man behind the counter, smiling at you. his smile alone had the power to turn you to mush.

“john travolta, huh?” he smiled softly. “so are we thinking saturday night fever travolta?” he checked. “or we’ve got urban cowboy, staying alive, carrie, two of a kind. and grease. that one’s real popular with the ladies” he winked.

you smiled shyly, stepping closer to the counter. you were at so close of a distance that you could smell him. he smelled good. really good. a perfect mixture of tangerine, sandalwood, and… mint? he was looming over you now. you barely reached up to his chest, and had to crane your neck to see him.

you smiled shyly, stepping closer to the counter. you were at so close of a distance that you could smell him. he smelled good. really good. a perfect mixture of tangerine, sandalwood, and… mint? he was looming over you now. you barely reached up to his chest, and had to crane your neck to see him.

“what’s carrie?” you asked curiously. you knew what it was, but you wanted to keep up the banter that the two of you had settled into.

“carrie’s a good choice. it’s scary though. don’t know if a pretty little lady like yourself could handle it” he winked.

“i dunno…” you smirked shyly. “my parents are out for the weekend. i’ve got no one to protect me if i watch it. all alone in that… big, scary house” you whispered.

“what if you weren’t alone?” he smirked devilishly. wait was he hitting on you? i mean… you did just tell him that you were home alone. you practically bent yourself over his work counter, presenting your virgin cunt for him to take.

“is that an offer?” you whispered nervously.

“if you’re willing to take it” he winked. “i mean… you did just practically bend yourself over my work counter and present your little virgin cunt for me to take” you flushed deeply in embarrassment. had he heard that? were you speaking aloud this whole time. “oh and… take it i will baby” he chuckled darkly. he leaned in, pressing a feather light kiss to your cheekbone. “i’m off at eight. i’ll see you then princess” he whispered softly, gently biting down on your earlobe.

“um…” you gulped. “the um… movie” you whispered quietly.

“don’t worry honey, i’ve got it. i’ll bring over all that we need for tonight, and you just do like you said and have that pretty little pussy ready for me.” he hummed. why was he walking around the counter? why was he stepping closer to you? oh! this is… this is nice. his hands seated themselves upon your hips, dragging you forward so that you were chest to chest.

“hi…” you whispered lamely, craning your neck up to see him.

“hi” he chuckled softly. he hummed to himself, his thumbs stroking over your hips before they plucked at the waistband of your mini skirt.

“what are you doing?” you gulped softly.

“oh, just checking to see what i’m working with” he murmured. “you just stand there and look pretty, okay?” he winked, clicking his tongue.

“okay” you whispered, nodding. he ran his hands over the smooth fat of your thighs. they inched up, up, and up, until he was running his hand over your pussy lips through your panties. he sifted through the little tuft of curls till he found your puffy little clit. your mouth ran dry as you gasped, lurching closer to him as you buried your burning face in his chest.

“so wet already? you get this way just from looking at me baby?” he laughed. “oh you’re pathetic” he whispered softly. “don’t worry honey, i’ll clean up that prissy princess attitude” he murmured. he wiggled his finger through your folds. you were mortified. he was doing this in public! albeit, there was nobody in the store but the two of you. but, anybody could come in! and see him digging in your panties like he was searching for gold. another strangled gasp, bordering on a moan, released itself from your throat as his finger wiggled into your entrance.

“steve…” you breathed out, fisting his shirt tightly between your fingers.

“god that little cunt is tight” he groaned softly, twisting his finger around. “i’m not sure you’ll fit my whole cock in there baby” he pouted mockingly down at you. “don’t worry” he hummed upon seeing your cute little frown. “we’ll make it fit,” he winked as he pulled his finger from your cunt and popped it between his lips. he sucked at it lewdly, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he groaned. “take them off.” he commanded.

“w-what…?” you stammered out, staring up at him bewildered. your eyes were the size of saucers.

“i didn’t fucking say stand there and look stupid. i said to fucking take them off.” he growled. you nodded rapidly, hiding your face as you stepped out of your panties in the middle of his place of work. you bunched them up and set them in his open palm. “god they’re so wet” he lifted them up, pressing them against his nose and inhaling deeply. “you filthy fucking thing” he tutted softly, pocketing the lacy fabric.

“run along now. i’ll be by tonight” he nodded once. and, like nothing ever happened, he returned back behind the counter and got to work while you rushed out of that place like the building was on fire.

𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂

you were practically sprinting around the house. steve was coming. you were cleaning and making everything nice and moving all your stuffed animals off of your bed. you were just making up your bed when the doorbell rang. you squeaked. you hadn’t had time to shower. or shave or change or… fuck it’s too late. okay just… whatever just go open the door. you took a deep breath and opened the door. “hi steve.” you whispered softly.

“hey pretty lady” he smirked. “come on, lead me to your room then.” he gave you no chance as he bullied his way into the door. you nodded softly, closing and locking it before leading him up to your room. he hummed as he looked around, fingering at all your trinkets and such along the walls.

“so… the movie?” you whispered.

“oh come on…” he laughed heartily. “you didn’t think we were actually going to watch that thing, right?” you frowned deeply as he laughed harder. “oh my god, you did!” he accused. “oh honey, i’m just here to split that tight little cunt open” he winked. “so take off your clothes, and get on the bed.” he commanded lowly.

“wait but steve…” you whispered shyly, slowly backing up towards your bed.

“yes?” he raised a brow. you fidgeted under his gaze. the longer he looked at you, the more you twitched. then suddenly, a look of realization befell his featured. “oh!” he murmured. “you… really are a virgin” he whispered, causing you to nod slowly. “i see…” he murmured, biting his lip. “do you want to do this?” he asked.

“i… yes” you whispered quietly. he smiled softly, holding your hips and pulling you in once more.

“then i’ll lead you through it” he winked, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. it was tongue and teeth as he guided you to lay back on your bed. “don’t worry baby, i’ll still split that pussy open” he promised softly, moving his kisses down your neck. he moaned quietly as his hands inched up the fatty meat of your thighs, rubbing and pinching as he went.

“still no panties, princess?” he teased as his hand made contact with the puffy lips of your cunt. “i can’t wait to taste this slutty pussy” he whispered softly. he flipped up your skirt, practically moaning at the sight of your raw pussy as he sniffed up it. he parted your lips, pushing back your pubic hairs and spit down onto your engorged and throbbing clit.

he moaned softly as he watched his saliva run down, laughing as you twitched and whimpered beneath him. his arms wrapped around your thighs and he dragged you closer to him. you were practically bent in half as he sat back on his haunches and pulled your cunt up to his lips. he laughed at your helpless wiggles as he buried his face into your mound. he groaned softly at the taste of you. he wiggled his tongue between your slick folds, kissing your clit wetly.

“steve please please please” you whined. you began to grind down against his tongue, moaning loudly as you covered your face. “god oh god oh please!” you shrieked. your grappled at his hair, tugging the luscious locks as he moaned into your dripping cunt. your wriggling was useless. steve’s strong arms had you locked in place as he enjoyed his meal. your thighs clamped down around his head as he pushed his tongue into your clenching entrance and twirled it around.

his thumb came up to thumb over your clit as you tugged harshly against his roots. tears stung the corners of your eyes and you didn’t know if you were begging for a break or begging for more. your stomach turned in knots as you cried. “steve steve steve!” you chanted out.

“don’t worry honey just let it go, you’ll be okay” he coaxed as he sensed your impending orgasm. you gasped, your eyes rolling back as your muscles tensed and relaxed immediately after. your mouth fell open in ecstasy and drool dripped down your chin.

“no steve no!” you shrieked as he pushed two fingers into your entrance, sucking furiously at your puffy little button. he laughed, the sound vibrating against your pulsing clit.

“you can take it baby. you’ll never fit my cock in there if i don’t stretch you out” he murmured simply. you nodded dumbly, clenching your fists in his hair as you began to grind your hips down against his mouth.

“god oh god it’s happening again!” you shrieked loudly. he fingers curled up and bullied your g spot. you gasped as you felt yourself floating up, up, and up, until a puddle was beneath you, and steve was covered in a sheen of your release. the top of his shirt, as well as his chin and face were soaked, along with the sheets beneath you. steve laughed as he pulled away, using all four fingers to rub roughly at your clit and watch you squirt even more.

he wasted no time in getting his pants off. you heaved beneath him, attempting to catch your breath as you heard the clinking of your belt. you were just coming down when he lined up the head of his cock with your entrance. “steve!” you screamed as he rapidly thrusted his length into you. your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your back arched into a high ‘c’ off of your mattress. “big it’s so big it’s too big!” you babbled. your mascara had already begun running from the tears spilling from your waterline.

“oh honey” he laughed, thrusting impossibly deeper, which caused your breath to stutter. “that’s not even all of it” he smirked. more tears brimmed your eyes as he continued to fill and stretch your cunt. “barely halfway in and look at that big cock in your guts” he groaned, pressing down on the imprint of his cock in your stomach.

“stevie it hurts!” you cried softly.

“oh baby, but doesn’t it feel so fucking good to be stretched out like this?” he smirked softly. “nice and wide on daddy’s big cock” he smirked, thumbing at your clit.

“daddy” you blushed, moving your hips in time with his thrusts.

“that’s right honey, cry for daddy.” he hummed. “you want to cum again, little whore?” he smirked.

“yes yes yes” you moaned loudly. he threw your legs up over his shoulders and bent over your body, thrusting that much deeper and harder. the head of his cock slammed against your gspot as your pussy clenched and squelched beneath him. “oh fuck!” you screeched out as you squirted once more. he grunted as he flipped you over, bending you so your ass was high in the air.

his hand made rough contact with your ass once, twice, three times before he shoved his cock back into you. somehow at this angle, it felt even bigger. you screamed loudly, fisting the sheets as you sobbed into your pillow in pleasured pain. the angry head of his cock leaking precum as it angrily prodded at your cervix. he layed over you, using his thighs to spread your’s wider as you layed flat against your matress.

his hairy chest pressed against your back as he rutted deep within you, growling animalistically. “take that fat cock!” he grunted, licking over your tear stained cheeks. sweat dripped from his forehead down to your shoulder as your bodies pressed together. his tummy hair scratched at your skin, causing you to moan as you sobbed.

you squeaked repeatedly, legs twitching as you felt another orgasm. “cum so i can fill that pretty belly up with my babies” he breathed into your ear as his hand wrapped around your throat.

“cum with me. gimme your cum stevie i want it!” you whined loudly. “pump it into my pussy. gimme your kids!” you shrieked. his hand wrapped tighter around your throat. he groaned loudly, commanding darkly that you cum for him.

“soak my fucking cock you little bitch,” he growled. you moaned loudly as you did, squirting harshly on him as he painted your walls with his cum. he thrusted deep into you, his thick, heavy balls pressed against your puffy clit, prolonging your orgasm. his cum reached deep into your cervix, nearly painting your womb with his kids. you panted as he groped you, moaning and groaning as he licked up your sweaty spine.

“you okay?” he whispered softly as he laid atop you, rutting shallowly to ride out your orgasms.

“yeah… yeah i’m great” you giggled. you winced softly as he slowly pulled out of you and pulled you to his chest.

“let’s relax a bit like this, yeah? then we’ll get a nice, hot bath” he whispered, kissing your head.

“that sounds nice, steve. thank you” you whispered, cuddling along his chest.

“you were real good to me doll” he whispered. “can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives buried in that little pussy” he chuckled softly. you couldn’t help but feel giddy at that. spending the rest over your like smushed under your bigol’ stevie while he pounds your pathetically wet cunt. sounded like heaven to you.

𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂

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#nsfw.nani #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington x y/n #beefy!steve #innocent!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

[cosmal]

TULIPS — send me an character i write for + a scenario or prompt and i’ll write you a blurb! fluff smut or angst!

friends to lovers, being reader’s first kiss + steve harrington

𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 — 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

summary — you think there's something wrong with you because no one will kiss you. steve fixes that.

warnings/tags — fem!reader, she/her pronouns, upset!reader, first kiss

wc — 1.3k

“If I knew he was so annoying, I wouldn’t have let you go out with him!!” Steve laughs, mouth full of popcorn. Not that he wanted you to go out with anyone in the first place but you don’t need to know that. 

You laugh even harder, hanging upside down on his sofa. You feel dizzy but you don’t move to sit up. “It was horrendous! He kept talking with food in his mouth.” 

You try to ignore the fact that Steve is doing the exact same thing right now. You don’t think it was the bad table manners that made you hate your date. It was probably because it was with the wrong person. 

“I can imagine. Braces and all.” Steve snorts. He throws a piece of popcorn in the air to catch it in his mouth. He misses by a mile and it lands on your stomach. You eat it yourself. 

“He was eating pesto as well.” You grimace at the memory of the green ring he had around his mouth. 

Steve’s laughter is horribly contagious. He’s laughing at your horrendous date, but still, your own cheeks ache. 

“I can imagine the kiss.” He shudders dramatically and the pieces of popcorn on his shirt roll off and down between the couch cushions.

“We didn’t kiss.” Your voice lilts through a small sigh and your head is really starting to spin. You’d expect to move any moment, whether it's because the spots in your vision start to get boring to look at or Steve pulls you up himself. 

“You didn’t kiss?” 

You shake your head and regret it. 

Like you’d expected, Steve does pull you up. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders until you’re upright. You fall into his side with your knees pressed into the back of the couch. 

“You didn’t kiss?” he repeats. 

You blink back the spots and laugh weakly, “No, Steve.” 

Steve isn’t sure if he’s stupidly happy that you hadn’t kissed, or if he’s incensed because not kissing someone like you has to be a crime against humanity or some shit. 

“Oh.” 

You move around so you can rest your head in his lap, stretching your legs out until they dangle over the arm. Your socked feet kick against its side with a thump. 

Steve watches where you wrinkle your face. He’s not sure if you're thinking really hard or if you’re trying to hold back an upset. He reaches a hand out and brushes away the hair that’s fallen into your eyes. 

“Steve?” you murmur. Your voice is quiet and muffled by the hand you have pressed to your mouth. 

He traces a line over your eyebrow before he replies, “Yeah?” 

You swallow hard and shift in your spot. You can’t make your eyes meet his so you decide to close them. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” 

Steve would chuckle if he thought you weren’t being serious. Maybe a stupid joke. If your eyes were open he’d think you were kidding around. But you genuinely look upset and Steve feels almost worse. He hates seeing you like this. 

“Like what?” His hand stops its movements and he settles it in your hair. 

You turn your head until it presses into his side to shield your face. You feel a little too bare and almost regret laying in his lap. If you’d stayed sitting up you could’ve folded in on yourself. 

“No one ever wants to kiss me,” you sigh. 

If only you knew.

Steve thinks you can be really stupid sometimes. In a really loving and best friend kind of way. 

Steve doesn’t want to diminish any thoughts you have about this, still, he says, “That’s not true.” Because it isn't.

You open your eyes and raise your eyebrows, “Steve,” you frown. He thinks he can see the beginnings of tears in the corners of your eyes where your eyelashes kiss. 

“Hey, c’mon.” Steve does his best to encourage you to sit up. Tucking an arm around your back and under your arms to pull you over his lap. 

His hands find their way to your sides where yours fiddle in your lap. Your fingers bunch through the bottom of his shirt and pick at a loose thread. He really wants to ask you to look at him. You really want him to stop staring at you like that.

“It’s not true,” he repeats, squeezing at your hips to affirm his words. “Really.” 

You chance a look up at him and find exactly what you didn’t want to. His soft face and even softer eyes. A goddamn abyss of amber that you wouldn’t mind drowning in right about now. The way he looks at you sometimes has you unravelling

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want me to cry,” you laugh weakly, palming at your face a little too roughly. 

“Of course, I don’t want you to cry,” he smiles, taking your hands from your face and holding them in his own, “You’re too pretty to be crying and you shouldn’t be doing it over some slimy boy.” 

“Slimy boy?” you sniffle.

“Yeah.” 

You shake your head, “It’s not just about him. I want…” you pause, take a deep, shaky breath, and deflate, “I want to know what it’s like to be kissed.”

Steve doesn’t miss a beat. He really should’ve but he has a big mouth sometimes. “I’ll kiss you.” 

“What?”

Your heart beats faster than you think is healthy. If you had any self-control in you, you’d have said no straight away. Kissing Steve seems like a line, if crossed, would be a terrible, if not self-destructing one to come back from. 

You think maybe Steve would only want to kiss you out of pity. Sitting in his lap, pathetically telling him you’d never been kissed, seems like you’re basically begging him to. 

You have been for years, he just doesn’t know it. 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for a really long time,” he chuckles. “Fucking years.” 

Fuck sakes. 

“Really?” Your voice is high and almost unrecognisable. Almost hopeful. 

His eyes glint, “Yeah.” 

You go silent for only a small moment, barely a beat, but it’s enough to have Steve backtracking. Stammering, he says, “But, if you don’t want me to, I won’t. We don’t- Look, we can pretend I never asked.” 

“Kiss me, Steve.” You lean forward until your hands press into his chest, “Seriously,” 

He leans forward too, almost unthinkingly like there’s some sort of tether between you. “You sure?” 

You smile, “Positive.” 

Steve doesn’t need anything more, that stupid smile is telling enough. He leans forward, breaks the barely-there gap between you two, and presses his lips to yours. 

His hands waste no time in pulling you closer if it’s really possible. Steve tries to be as gentle as he can, despite wanting to kiss you stupid for a really long time, he kisses you knowing it’s your first. He'd be damned if he ruins it for you. 

He holds the small of your back, hands tangling through the soft cotton of your shirt. His lips prod gently against yours, delicate and soft and you start off unsure. Whether to move to the left or right, open or close your mouth. He leads and angles your chin higher and your noses bump. Your bottom lip drags against his and you huff a whiny breath into his mouth. 

Embarrassed, you pull away with wet lips, bright eyes and warm cheeks. You lean up to kiss his swelling cupid’s bow one more time with a giddy hum. 

Steve can feel your excitement zapping between your lips. 

“How was that?” he smiles, lips shining. 

You faux frown, “Hmm, I don’t know. I feel like I could improve.” 

“Lucky I’m an amazing teacher,” Steve’s smug smile is blinding and you can’t help the tiny gasp you let out when he kisses you again. 

You pull away but keep your lips hot and close to his, “I’m so,” kiss, “so lucky.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x female harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #steve harrington fan fiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction

[xspeter]

“What’re you doing here, Steve?” Even his name hurts to say.

“Robin, uh, she told me Mrs. Beck was hiring and, well, I needed a job..”

You finally whip around and face him, your hair following you as you do and harshly slapping against your face, but you ignore it. “That’s the only reason? I find that a little hard to believe.” You mumble the last part, eyes narrowing as you stare at him. Steve hadn’t realized how much he missed your glare.

“Yeah, it is. Why do you wanna know?” He asks with a suggestive taunt, almost as if he’s daring you to take the bait. You know how his mind works though, so you don’t fall for it.

“I just didn’t know if you finally decided you wanted to learn how to read s’all.”

Steve can’t help the smirk that grows on his face. “I was hoping you’d teach me, actually.”

You scoff, a shiver running up your spine in disgust. Of course he’d say some stupid shit like that, he always knew how to get on your nerves. “In your dreams, Harrington.”

ఌ You Cling to Your Papers and Pens (Wait Until You Like Me Again) / sneak peak

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #sneak peek #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x yn #exes to lovers #fanfic #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #xspeter