#harrington
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nine facts, one lie
summary: It didn’t matter that your best friend Robin claims he’s changed, you do not like Steve Harrington. He used to be egotistical, a player, an asshole — and you’re not in any hurry to believe he’s changed his ways.
Never mind that he seems terribly kind now, compliments here and there, or even that he’ll pick you up from a date gone horribly wrong… [16.5k]
[one sided enemies to lovers — you hate steve and by god, does he want to change that] dedicated to my dearest kenny
Fact #1: You did not, under any circumstance, like Steve Harrington.
It doesn’t matter what Dustin says nor the smug roll of Robin’s eyes, you knew it yourself even if no one else believed it; you did not like Steve Harrington.
From everything you’ve ever heard about the guy, it was a surprise that he still had any friends — especially with the likes of your friends, a fact that makes you gag when Robin brings it up.
Robin, lovely best friend Robin, who completely betrayed you by associating herself willingly with Steve.
Since the beginning of high school, the two of you had been thick as thieves. Gossip was spilled between the two of you frequently, juicy enough to make even Carol Perkins’ head spin — you talked often enough that it got you split up during class time constantly, giggles too loud to be contained.
Being at the bottom of the social food-chain —or maybe worse, completely unseen to your peers— there was nothing like sharing snarky remarks between you and Robin about the dunderheads who ‘ruled’ the school through idiotic popularity.
Robin had a particular dislike for Tina Burgess ever since she’d started the rumour that girls in band were freaks in the sheets and would put out to anyone who would ask. You weren’t sure what had been worse: the obvious dig that Robin wasn’t getting any or the slimy guys who believed it and had the guts to ask.
You, however, distinctly despised the likes of King Steve.
It was impossible to pinpoint what about him grated you so much; maybe, it was how he seemed to have girls in and out of his bed like he was playing a game, trying to rack up as many points as possible. Or maybe, it was that even you, invisible and not even on his radar let alone on his list, could see the appeal.
Even better than easy on the eyes, Steve Harrington is one of those guys that makes you understand the word gorgeous.
It doesn’t help that he’s rich as well, with a huge house with a pool and even a swanky car to pick you up in. A complete daydream. Swept away into sheets softer than yours at home, you’d get to spend a night in the arms of the most popular guy in school and if you’re really lucky, he’ll still pretend to know your name the next day.
What had really stuck with you was gossip you’d happened to overhear, head stuck in your locker as you fished around for your books and papers. Tommy H and Steve were 3 lockers over, at Tommy’s locker, and sharing the details of Steve’s latest conquest.
So was she any good? Tommy had been asking. I always assumed nerdy chicks weren’t as good- they practically cream their pants considering no one’s ever kissed em’ before.
Steve had laughed along too. Yeah, man. She was all over me. Had to keep picturing someone hotter though, you know those geeks aren’t the prettie— Your stomach had curdled and you had slammed your locker door louder than needed, just to shut him up. You were sure they both saw you leave.
It drove you insane. And even though Steve likely knew nothing of your existence — didn’t matter you had once been chem partners, nor the fact you shared English class— he was probably as close to an evil nemesis you’d ever get.
Hence the utter betrayal of Robin’s friendship with him.
Originally, when she’d told you over the phone, gleeful and gossipy, that King Steve had just been hired at Scoops Ahoy, the two of you had snickered. It hadn’t been enough to watch him drift from his other asshole friends, something in you burned deliciously hearing he’d fallen from yet another pillar.
It had only gotten better. Robin recounted countless stories where he had flunked out with girls — you’d nearly lost it hearing about her whiteboard, tallying up his ‘hits & misses’ when trying to score a date. It finally seemed Steve Harrington was somehow more of a loser than you.
On the 4th of July, 1985, Starcourt Mall burnt down — and the strangest thing about it all was that Robin suddenly didn’t seem to mind Steve so much.
They were friends. You’d been a little miffed at her quick change of heart as she doused your gossipy mood in an instant, insisting that Steve wasn’t so bad once you got to know him.
Rather reluctantly, your teasing remarks about Steve were brought to a halt as Robin retaliated each time, urging you to give him another chance. And while you agreed to be civil, especially considering you had to see him every time you visited Robin at work. But what could you do? Old habits die hard.
Fact #2: Steve Harrington is trying to be a better person.
Okay, you didn’t know that one, but Steve certainly did.
It means even though Robin had dropped several warnings and a few premature apologies, Steve was prepared to be absolutely lovely when meeting her other best friend (the other being himself, of course). Robin still seemed tense about the two of your meeting — so far you’d specifically come to visit her at Family Video when you knew Steve wasn’t there.
But a few shifts had been swapped around and on her late night Thursday shift where you always came by to keep her company, Robin was readying herself for the collision of her two friends.
Despite all her convincing, she could tell you weren’t sold on the new Steve she claimed to love and you hadn’t come by when he was there, meaning all your experiences to do with Steve were rooted back in his days of assholery.
It didn’t matter to Steve; he loved Robin and he had lots of practice trying to gain the ‘wow, you’re not a douchebag anymore’ gold star. He had this in the bag.
The janky chime of the door buzzer announces the arrival of someone in the store and being the one at the counter while Robin tends to the shelves, Steve’s head pops up, ready to greet.
“Hello! Welcome to Family Video!”
It sounds far too rehearsed, recognizing the customer service voice you put on at your own job. You nearly smile at the cheery greeting, taken aback by Steve’s handsome grin and his floppy hair, messed from the force of his movement. Then you clock yourself and have to fight off an urge to scowl.
Eyes already searching over the aisles for Robin, you’re just wondering if she’ll come save you from this conversation when Steve seems to realise who you must be.
“Oh, you must be y/n.” His easy smile, hands leaning forward onto the counter that separates you, takes you aback.
In your peripheral, you can see Robin spot you and head in the direction — but she doesn’t come quick enough to stop Steve from bungling the whole conversation with his next sentence.
“Robin’s told me a lot about you. I’m Steve,” His tone is friendly and at your silence, he continues. “Steve Harrington.”
Oh my God. He doesn’t even remember you.
Over Steve’s shoulder, you can spy Robin burying her head in her hands and muttering something to herself. Any annoyance you had pushed down springs to the surface. You school your expression as neutral as possible, though you’re sure your brow crinkles in irritation.
“I know.”
Okay, that was meaner than you intended, especially as you recall Robin’s plea to be civil at the very least. You clear your throat, unsure if you can completely hide your distaste for him.
“We were chem partners, freshmen year.” You remind him, attempting a smile. It might be a grimace. “And I was in your English class your senior year.”
Steve seems to realise his mistake, his cheeks turning rosy and his eyes widening almost comically — fuck, way to go, Harrington. All of his pep talks, amping himself up to be so friendly to you and then he goes and ruins it by not remembering you.
It’s embarrassing. Hawkins is a small town and practically everyone knows everyone, with the exception of popular kids who didn’t think they needed to. He winces, frustrated that his past has come back to haunt him yet again.
“I’m sorry.” He says, more sincere than you’re expecting. Well, you’re not expecting an apology at all — the Steve you remembered would’ve laughed it off, claiming that he couldn’t forget a pretty face and trying to brush over the fact he forgot you at all.
“Seriously,” he reaffirms at the hint of surprise on your features. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to forget your face. I’m pretty sure you’re the only reason I passed that chem class.”
Robin seems to sense your internal battle, baffled by his apology but still irritated by the fact his memory didn’t deem you memorable enough. She also wants to jump on the spot and say ‘told you!’ because the surprise you’d shown means you hadn’t believed her.
A part of her feels bad, knowing the battering Steve’s taken to his head too many times has undoubtedly knocked a few memories loose; but it’s not that they could explain that to you.
“I’m just shelving — want to come sit?” She offers, taking the conversation away from you and Steve. “We watched Highlander today and I could sit and explain the whole plot to you?”
It’s the usual activities you and Robin did when you came to bug her on her shift. You loved listening to Robin talk as she possessed a unique ability to turn a 10-minute retelling into an hour-long debate. Each subplot in the film needed to be discussed, with bad analogies that came out of left field and made you laugh til your sides hurt. It wasn’t a bad Thursday night all around.
Just as you’re about to respond, Steve cuts in and speaks instead.
“Robs, you’ve only got two hours left. It’s a Thursday, you could take off if you wanted? I don’t mind.”
Robs. Somehow the nickname for your best friend coming from Steve is more jarring than the polite offer he’s extended. Steve’s eyes shift back over to you, offering another weak smile and you wonder if this is a continuation of his apology.
“Really?” Robin’s excitement is evident. Bunking off early means you two will sneak a movie and have time to grab some greasy food for an actual hangout. “I mean- are you sure?”
Steve nods sincerely then cracks a grin, shooting a sarcastic smile at Robin. “What think I can’t hold down the fort for a couple hours?”
Robin is already peeling off her Family Video vest, digging under the counter to pull out her school bag. “I don’t think it, Steve. I know it.”
He laughs, meandering his way back to where Robin has left the returns cart and, furiously, you have to admit he’s being awfully nice. Robin nearly trips coming around the counter, her hand grasping your arm tightly to keep herself upright and she beams at you.
“C’mon!” She says, pulling you out the door, the buzzer chiming again as you both leave the store. Once outside, she pauses and you can feel her stare burning into your temple. She doesn’t say it but you can feel the beginning of an i told you so building in her throat.
“Don’t say it.”
“Say what?” She plays clueless but her grin gives her away. She links an arm through yours.
“Don’t say anything.” You say with a scowl, the two of you beginning to stroll down the stairs out the front. The crispness of the night makes you tug her a little closer. “I still don’t like him.”
Fact #3: Steve Harrington still likes to flirt.
In the beginning, the compliments are because Steve really wants you to like him.
He sees more of you with the change of shifts and perhaps, he gleefully thinks, you aren’t completely avoiding him anymore. You’ll come to see Robin in store even if he’s working as well and inadvertently, conversations spring up between the two of you.
The first time he tries to slip in a compliment casually, he’s not entirely sure what reaction he gets. On this day you’re waiting for Robin to finish out back, packing up some of the schoolwork she’d done in the backroom, and to Steve’s delight, you’ve opted to wait up by the counter with him.
You’ve already exchanged an awkward couple hello’s and now silence falls between you. Steve clears his throat and tries to earn his not a douchebag star.
“Did you get a haircut?”
You blink. Without thought, you bring up your hand and run it over the silky strands — cut fresh from yesterday. Surprise sprouts in your chest at the fact he noticed.
“Yeah,” you nod, tucking it behind your ears. “I did.”
“It looks good.” He compliments, pairing it with a genuine smile. “It like,” he gestures with a hand, hoping his ears aren’t as red as they feel. “Frames your face better. You look nice.”
For a moment, you forget to mask your emotions and the simple act of a compliment from an attractive guy makes your lips twitch into a smile. Robin bundles out of the back room before you remember to say something snarky, like What and my hair looked bad before?
Instead, it hangs in the air and when you leave behind Robin, you really consider smiling over your shoulder at him.
But it ruminates; the compliment loops in your mind until your insecurity unstitches it and it warps into something else entirely. His motivation is the question on your mind.
In what world does Steve Harrington flirt with you?
It has to be a joke. He must be making fun of you because that’s exactly what Steve used to do and if he’s not, that means he has changed and you’re suddenly worthy of his attention.
You recall the locker-room talk, his jeering tone and everything about his compliment turns sour.
Somehow, Steve’s worried he’s managed to make it worse.
His compliments dropped here and there — commenting on film choice, saying he likes your sweaters, all it seems to earn him is scowls. Your scrunched nose and heated glare from your distaste either means he’s worse at flirting than he remembers or it’s a painful reminder that still you see him as King Steve.
He’s not — he knows he is not. King Steve wouldn’t have bothered looking at the film you’d picked out, his comment would’ve been on your body not on the clothes you choose, and he certainly wouldn’t have noticed something as trivial as a haircut.
And because Steve is nothing if not a whinger, he tells all this to Dustin when the kid comes in to visit.
“I mean, I know I was bad but,” Steve cut himself off with a scoff, following Dustin through the aisles. Dustin didn’t even look as though he was listening, eyes trained on the shelves intently. “I apologised for not remembering her, like, an actual genuine apology— and that was years ago! I don’t get why she doesn’t like me, man.”
Dustin, who had indeed been listening to the rant of his older friend, promptly stopped and plucked a film off the shelf with a quiet aha!
“Are you even listening to me, Henderson?”
“Yes, Steve.” Dustin spun, eyes narrowed as he stared up at Steve intensely enough to unnerve him. “From what I’ve heard, you were pretty damn bad so I’m not surprised some people hold a grudge!”
“Yeah, but—”
“And you didn’t remember her. Maybe you did something rude in high school and completely forgot about it?”
Steve waved his hands dismissively, shaking his head in disagreement. Without noticing, you had slipped in the store up front, usual conversation struck up with Robin. However, you’d been quickly distracted as you searched the store for Robin’s other half and were baffled to find him following around a child.
“Looking for Steve?” Robin jibed when she noticed your gaze wandering across the store, your attention going with it.
You ignored the jab, rolling your eyes with a light laugh. “He wishes. Is he talking to a kid?”
“Who Dustin? Don’t let him hear you call him that.” Robin warned with a roll of her own eyes, shuffling about some stock room records in her hands. “He’s like Steve’s best friend. He was, uh, in the mall fire with us last year.”
The mall fire. Robin doesn’t talk about it at all, a hollow expression taking over her features that freaks you out far too much to push it. Pushing past your surprise, you decide to focus on the other part of her sentence.
“They’re friends?”
As if to prove your point, the two of them head to the front of the store in the middle of a bicker — Steve lags behind a bit, hands waving dramatically as Dustin calls over his shoulder, tone righteous and just a tad smug.
You catch the end of Dustin’s sentence— “Not every girl has to swoon over you, Steve, you know that right? So what if she doesn’t—” cut off when Steve shoves his shoulder, having spotted you.
Dustin looks as though he experiences a ripple of emotions; annoyance, as he whips around, ready to cuss Steve out for the shove, which quickly turns to confusion at the wide-eyed look Steve is staring down at him with. By the time he’s facing you something has clicked as he looks at you with renewed interest.
“Dustin.” He introduces, stepping forward with one hand held out for you to shake. “Dustin Henderson.”
Unwittingly, you peer over his shoulder and connect eyes with Steve — who gives a shrug in response, an awkward smile on his face. Taking Dustin’s smaller hand in your own, you smile and introduce yourself, unable to keep the hint of confusion out of your words.
“I’m Steve’s best friend.” The curly-headed boy explains, gesturing over his shoulder and Steve’s smile gets a little more awkward. He feels a smidge nervous considering there’s no telling what will fall out of Henderson’s mouth next. Steve’s a little relieved when it’s a typical plea for a ride, spinning back round to him.
“Andddd as my best friend, he’ll be totally happy to drive me to the Byers’ right now. Robin can handle the store for 10 minutes without you, can’t ya Robin?”
He slides the tape he’s grabbed onto the counter as he says it, a silent ask to check it out. Likely under Steve’s account which Dustin says it’s for the employee discount — which makes Steve scoff, considering he pays for it anyways.
All eyes move to Robin who freezes at the sudden attention, papers paused mid-shuffle in her twitchy hands. She narrows her eyes at Dustin and you find yourself watching Steve as he has a silent exchange with the girl — another halfhearted shrug that means he’s happy to take him if she doesn’t mind.
Robin swipes the tape and types the details into the computer hastily, waving them both off. “Yeah, yeah. y/n can always get behind the counter, worst-case scenario.”
Dustin fist-pumps, taking the tape back from Robin as she hands it over. He heads to the door and calls out to you as he goes, “And you’d look better than Steve in the vest too!”
It makes you laugh when Steve scowls, sidling up to you to lean over the counter and snatch up his car keys. He pauses, eyes roaming your face and looking as though he wants to say something to you.
“Steve!” Dustin’s voice pierces the glass and you look to see him waiting on the top step, hands raised, expression unimpressed.
Steve sighs, muttering the word dickhead under his breath and then he’s out the door.
Fact #3: You may have misjudged Steve Harrington.
It’s been just over a week since seeing Dustin in the store with Steve and though you’d never admit it aloud, it has shifted the way you see Steve.
A minuscule shift, you huff to yourself, tiny and not enough to completely dissolve your built in dislike for the Harrington boy. But you find the thought worming into your brain frequently, tripping over it in surprise when you realise you’re thinking of him again.
It’s just… it didn’t make sense.
Just like the flirting, it didn’t compute in your brain unless you rationalized it back to some asshole motive.
But Dustin had introduced himself as Steve’s best-friend, which was sort of weird enough on its own but you figured it had to be some insane trauma bonding from the mall fire.
Even if they had been the same age, Dustin didn’t seem like the company you’d expect Steve to keep— but neither was Robin, you thought after a moment of contemplation.
Robin’s knowing grin outside Family Video a couple of weeks ago that screamed i told you so floats up in your memory; you might have to concede she was maybe, potentially, just a little bit right.
The thoughts weigh on your mind as you wait in the kitchen for Steve’s car to pull into your driveway. A couple months ago you would have outright refused to accept a ride from King Steve and you still weren’t sure if you thanked him for his generosity tonight, whether it would come out snarky or genuine.
But he did offer, unasked.
You and Robin wanted to see a rerun screening of The Rocky Horror Picture Show that was showing a few towns over. Robin couldn’t drive and neither could you, which meant when she’d seen the poster, it had only been a fleeting moment of excitement before you realised you didn’t have any means of travel.
She must have been moping about it at work that day because it was sometime in the evening after she got off work that your phone rang and she nearly shrieked down the line that Steve would take you both.
So, here you were; waiting for Steve to pick you up.
God, even the sentence sounded odd in your head. A flash of amber headlights on the street grabs your attention and before you can delve into the flip of your stomach, you duck out of the house and slip into Steve’s car.
You take the front seat. Mainly because it would be too weird to get in the back, as though he was your chauffeur — though you suppose for tonight, he is. Steve smiles when you get in and you find it easy to mimic it. Gravel crunches as his tires pull away from the curb, gathering speed as he heads for Robin’s house.
Eyes out the window, you don’t see how he steals glances at you every couple of moments. The air feels tinged with awkwardness and Steve swallows, wondering if he’s allowed to break it. You’ve been a little warmer to him — I mean, hell, you just offered him a smile.
As he pulls the car up in front of Robin’s house, engine idling, he pushes out a breath and dredges up his courage.
Yes, in the beginning, the compliments were because he wanted you to not see him and scowl. Tonight, it’s because you look beautiful and he wants you to know it.
“You look—” Oh god, and now you’re looking at him, eyes a little wide before they narrow in suspicion. “—uh, pretty.”
“What?”
“I mean, you always look pretty!” He amends. “But, y’know, you look lovely tonight. Pretty.” Stop talking.
“P-Pretty lovely.” It falls off his tongue in haste, delivered so terribly he’s surprised he doesn’t cringe immediately after. God, it was like whatever flirting skills he had flew out the window with you.
“No, Harrington, I mean— why do you keep saying these things?”
Steve feels utterly lost, shown on his face as he blinks, once, twice, and doesn’t say anything. Your insecurity bubbles up, mixed with anger at the thought he might indeed be messing with you.
“I don’t know if this is funny to you, to- to like, joke that you like my clothes or- or to pretend to think that I’m pretty but it’s not. And I—”
“Woah, wait — who said I was joking?” Incredulity taints each word, his brows pulled high in surprise. Steve’s stomach twists, feeling his heart recoil at the complete seriousness in your words — you think he’s been making fun of you.
“Well, why else would you call me pretty?” You ask pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Because you are?” It’s faint, Steve’s voice suddenly a lot softer.
You’re not sure you can contain the ripple of emotions on your face, his words sticking you in the throat so you have to swallow thickly. It’s like a switch is flipped, each compliment of the last couple of weeks shifting into a new meaning in your mind.
It’s overwhelming and you find yourself searching Steve’s face desperately, drinking in his sincere expression, brows drawn together as he offers a weak smile. Fuck, you think and along with it, dozens of apologies fester and churn — god, you’d been so rude and—
“Um, backseat please!” A sharp knock at your window scares you, nearly jumping out of your skin and breaking your focus on Steve. When you turn, Robin’s standing on the sidewalk, bent at the waist to peer at you through the glass. You stare at her dumbly for a moment til she wiggles her eyebrows with a grin and it makes you crack a smile, finally reeling yourself in enough to move.
Unclipping your belt, you’re rather thankful to be shoved to the back of the car. Hidden in the dark, you shift to take the seat behind Steve. Your eyes spy a sliver of his neck, exposed skin about the collar of his jacket and it fixates you for a moment.
Because you are? Steve’s words follow you, plaguing you in the shadows of the backseat — you purposefully ignore how it makes your heart sing ever-so-slightly.
Fact #4: Bradley O’Connor is not to be trusted.
“Guess who came into my work today?”
It’s said all gleeful, your hands gripping the counter as you nearly launch yourself over it in your excitement. On the other side stands Robin, doodling in her notebook — or she had been, til your arrival had been announced by the door chime, her ‘Welcome to Family Video!’ cut off by your sudden commotion.
“Um,” Robin begins indignantly, brows raised high. “Half of Hawkins? You work at Bradley’s Best Buy y/n, like the whole town shops there.”
Her sarcasm bounces off you, undeterred in your good mood; it was like the sun was shining just for you today. You didn’t even mind Steve obviously listening in on you two, his hands frozen above the keyboard as he eavesdropped from his seat at the computer.
“Yeah, speaking of Bradley’s...” you grinned at Robin, hoping your hint was enough. It was, her expression shifting into something more enthusiastic.
“Bradley Bradley?”
You nod at her question, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip in an attempt to contain your giddy grin. But it’s hard when your long-term high school crush Bradley O’Connor came through your till, flirted like there was no tomorrow, and insisted you jot your number on his receipt.
He didn’t even seem to care that you worked at a supermarket. You knew well that he and all his friends lived in the cushy tax bracket which meant the first job they ever worked would be after college. Kids like you and Robin, stuck working hours in dead-end jobs to help pay rent, were often easy pickings for teasing.
It just made you lean into your naive feelings more, swooning at the fact he didn’t care. You had been too elated in your feelings to notice the piles of his friends waiting outside the store; if you had, it might’ve made you more cautionary.
“Bradley O’Connor?” Steve butts in, swiveling in his chair to question you. The way Steve says his name, tinged in disbelief, makes you narrow your eyes.
“Is that so hard to believe?” You say defensively and chose to not acknowledge Robin’s deep sigh. Eyes widening, Steve splutters for a moment as he shakes his head.
“What? No, not like that! I just mean—him? Really?”
You can’t quite pick what’s hiding in his voice, eyes instead following Robin as she whirls around and delivers a glower that makes Steve reconsider his tone, swallowing.
“I mean—” He starts again, clearing his throat, cheeks a titch pink now. “I didn’t realise he was... your type.”
You stare at Steve, your expression skeptical as you try to pull apart whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. When you can’t figure it out in a moment, you ignore the comment and turn back to Robin and ignore it.
“Asked for my number.” You lean closer to Robin, wiggling your brows as you lead her along the excitement you’d felt earlier today. “Insisted on it actually.”
Robin’s brows manage to raise even higher, nearly disappearing into her hairline and you’d be a bit offended if her grin didn’t match your own.
“Oh. My. God.” She says, her pen punching down on the pages of her notebook to punctuate each word. “Oh my god.”
You don’t bother trying to hold back your grin, nodding along, some form of a squeal escaping you — it vaguely occurs to you should rein it in with Steve listening in, but you can’t find it in yourself to curb your feelings for his sake.
“Finally!” Robin manages to break her script of oh my god’s. “You’ve only liked him for—what? Two years?”
You flush automatically at the admission, your grin becoming a grimace as you shoot a glare at your best friend. She means well, but you’re not exactly lining up to let Steve Harrington in on all your secrets.
Your eyes flit over to where he sits, still watching the conversation. As if he can read your unease, he mimes turning a lock over his lips and tosses the key behind him blindly in an exaggerated motion. You’re in a good enough mood that it makes you laugh lightly, breaking back into a smile and comforted that at the very least, Steve won’t go ratting out your affections.
“Hey, as happy as I am for you, aren’t you supposed to be helping your Mom today?”
Like a bubble bursting, Robin reminds you that, alas, the world exists outside the perfect moment of exchanging digits over the cash register at work. Your eyes widen, a little horrified as you spin around and squint at the clock on the wall. Shit.
“Shit.” You verbalize the thought and you’re out the door before you remember to call out your goodbyes.
Steve watches you go, your purple wind-breaker flapping behind you wildly as you all but sprint around the corner and out of sight. It’s a bit too comical and he can’t help but chuckle. The sound draws Robin’s attention and all too suddenly, Steve feels as though he’s been caught doing something wrong as she whirls around to face him.
For a moment, they just stare at each other. Steve wonders if he’ll have to remind her that despite the jokes they both make, he can’t actually read her mind.
She breaks the silence. “What was that?”
“What was what?” It’s genuine confusion, Steve’s head tilting to the right an inch.
“I didn’t realise he was your type.” Robin mocks, her voice high pitch and hands gesturing somehow sarcastically. “That! What was that?”
Steve frowns, defensiveness creeping up in his tone. “That was nothing!”
Okay, so, that sounded way less casual than he hoped. Steve clears his throat, spinning on his seat to face the computer again. It was nothing. Robin was being a vulture, picking at remains, picking at nothing — absolutely nothing.
“Nothing at all.” He mutters, beginning to type again and Robin snorts behind him, voice still doused in sarcasm.
“Mm, for my own sake, I’m gonna ignore the fact you’re clearly interested in her.”
Steve hits a wrong key in his surprise, an annoyed beep! coming from the computer. It sums up how he’s feeling. He turns his head back to Robin, brows furrowed as he shakes his head. “What? No, no way.”
“Yes, way.”
“Robin, no. Even if I did—not that I do but even if I— look, I’m not stupid enough to get a crush on someone who hates me.”
This puts out the fiery retorts for just a moment, Robin dimming as she recalls the bitterness you harbor for Steve. Well, harbored — she knows you back to front and she’s willing to bet money that if you stopped hating him for just a second, you’d probably like the guy.
“She doesn’t know you.” She lands on eventually, features softening as she recalls the bitterness on Steve’s face whenever some idiot from high school dragged up his past — usually, in an attempt to humiliate him.
“Look, I’m not interested in her.” Steve reiterates, though a little weak, waving his hands wildly as if it will help drive the point home. “Not gonna happen. Never gonna happen. “
The door rattles as it’s opened by a new customer. Robin and Steve both cease their conversation immediately, turning to greet automatically — and who should it be Bradley O’Connor, himself. He doesn’t spare a glance at the front counter, sauntering straight into the action movie aisle.
“In fact,” Steve begins, an idea formulating in his mind. He spins back to Robin with a grin. “I’ll happily help her get her next date.”
“Steve, don’t—“
Steve ignores her protest, sidling out from behind the counter and tracking Bradley down to where the rom-com section starts.
“Welcome to Family Video!” It’s a bit cheery and it makes the boy jump in surprise, surprised by the new voice. Steve continues. “Anything I can help you with today?”
Bradley chuckles stiffly, a little affronted at the enthusiasm Steve’s to help a customer. He clocks the double take he does, the glance down at Steve’s name badge giving away that Bradley’s well aware of who he is. Exhaling, Steve hopes he won’t bring it up.
It looks as though Bradley weighs something up in his head, taking another once over at Steve before he speaks. “Yeah, actually. You know what movies chicks dig?”
Steve can tell in the way Bradley says the word chicks that he’s an asshole. Not thinking of girls as people, more like scores: notches in his belt. It makes him tick, jaw clenching.
But he was like that once. Nancy Wheeler had found a genuine spot in him and coaxed it out. You — you could do the same.
So, Steve says, “Yeah, man. Anyone in particular? Usually depends on the girl, honestly.”
Bradley sniffs, one hand nudging under his nose as he skirts his gaze around the store. He lands on Robin, who thankfully, doesn’t look like she’s trying to eavesdrop at that exact moment.
“Do ya know y/l/n?” He jerks his chin in the direction of Robin. “Buckley’s friend?”
Steve nods, glad at the easy segue; now, all he had to do was talk you up. And Steve Harrington was nothing if not a flatterer. He halts a moment later with a frown, realising what a noncommittal date it was. You deserved better than that, Steve thought.
“y/n? You can’t just rent out a film for a girl like that. She’s a total catch, dude— you gotta do the whole nine yards, yanno? Cinema, popcorn, be a gentleman and all.”
He pairs his suggestion with a usual charming smile, crossing his arms across his broad chest. Bradley seems to pick up on the extra interest and his brows quirk up.
“You got like, a thing for her or something?”
His pink cheeks nearly give him away. Steve, to his credit, manages to not blunder his next response. It’s almost like Robin’s line of fire earlier prepped him for this moment.
“Nah,” he replies, coolly. “She’s just a friend.”
The next words are a little less casual, Steve straightening up as a surprising amount of protectiveness curls in his gut. “And as her friend, I’m just looking out for her.”
Bradley swallows, breaking eye-contact as if Steve could puzzle out his ill intentions if he looked long enough.
“So, be nice and take her out all proper.” Steve lets it sit in the air for a moment, then smiles, a polite way that’s well practiced in his line of work. “Can I get anything else for you?”
It might be the quickest customer Robin’s ever checked out, with Bradley managing to get the film rented and be out the door in under 2 minutes.
Thankfully, Robin is chuckling when he wanders back behind the counter. He had been harboring a thread of anxiety, worried he had really overstepped by thinking he knew best — it wouldn’t be the first time he’d done it. On top of that, Steve really doesn’t want this to bite him in the ass, especially considering it was to help you.
“Don’t—” Robin starts, a smile curling her lips. “—let this go to your head, but that wasn’t nearly half bad.”
Steve tries not to feel smug, settling instead on pleasantly content. He was in your good books after this, for sure.
When you call the store from home, wire twisted in your fingers and talking loud enough in your excitement that Steve could hear it from beside Robin, she makes sure to mention the good word he put in for you.
Fact #5: If you call Steve Harrington from a pay-phone on a Friday night, he’ll pick up.
The bleak cold of the night air isn’t anything compared to the shame that’s building in your chest. You’re trying your best to ignore it, to not give in to your anxious doubts — what did Bradley say on the phone?
It was supposed to be a movie night at his place — that was what he’d suggested when he toyed with your feelings at work, a handsome smirk on his face. You’d tried not to sound disgruntled at the hurried change in plans, instead trying to lean into your excitement that tonight went from casual to a definite date.
Bradley O’Connor didn’t just invite anyone to the movies with him. And he’d said 7 on the phone, you huffed to yourself.
7 o’clock. The showing of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off that was playing at Hawk cinema. Though, he did sound a bit distracted on the phone, his voice sounding distant.
You glance at the clock above the ticket booth. 7.13pm.
Heaving a sigh, you tuck your coat closer around yourself and wonder how long you should wait before it goes from sad to truly pathetic.
Five more minutes, you think, Give him five more minutes.
Because you hopelessly want his flirts, his coy smile, and charming winks to be real; you want to be swept up in a teenage daydream and have it all work out for you for once.
You swallow, picking at your fingers as you dredge up your hopes, convincing yourself he’s coming — because if he doesn’t...it means Steve and his confused tone were fucking right. That Bradley wasn’t the type to go for your type.
You shouldn’t have waited the five extra minutes.
Technically, you think bitterly, you were right. Bradley does show up.
You’re stepping out, wondering if you should brave the walk home in the dark — but a familiar group of raucous boys in Letterman jackets heading for the cinema freeze you in your tracks.
“Holy shit, she actually came.”
It’s not said kind, not in awed disbelief as you’d hoped. It’s cruel — jeering explodes in the group of boys, unkind laughs and snickers resounding off the bricks as they smack each other, all in on the joke. The realisation sinks into your stomach, staining it black.
Bradley looks smugly satisfied — a pompous conceited piece of shit that you should’ve known better than to believe.
You don’t even want to look at him, a hot sting of tears burning behind your eyes. You don’t want to give him a chance to taunt you. Your feet take you forward, barging through the group and smacking your shoulder against Bradley’s shoulder, hard. You hope it hurts.
“Tell Harrington thanks for the suggestion to take you to the movies!” He calls after you like he knows how it rubs salt into the wound. It does; it stings maybe more than the initial humiliation. “Guess he’s not an idiot all of the time!”
The boys laugh, a series of oohs that finally break your floodgate. Tears streak, hot and fast, and you brush them off before they reach your chin, sniffling. Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
The humiliation is coating you, sticky and clinging like a fog and you squeeze your eyes closed as you inhale quickly. You round the corner fast, feet not stopping til you’re at least four blocks from the cinema, further downtown.
You feel dumb. Scratch that, you feel like a fucking idiot.
A stray tear escapes without permission and the next thought is that you want to go home. Blurry eyes scanning the street, you clock the phone booth and head for it, fueled by the urgency of your thoughts: get home, then fall apart.
The glass is cold as you push the door open, creaking and weathered. You close the door and turn, staring at the phone. Who do you call?
Your mom is the first thought. She’d driven you in — though, you’d told her you’d get a lift home with Bradley since he had a car. You’re not up for the coddling you’ll get when she sees the state of you in the slightest. Besides, she’d mentioned heading to a friends for the evening.
Robin is the next thought. And you would, except she can’t drive so all she’d do is ply you with a combination of questions and furious insults directed at Bradley.
Your next thought...No.
You sigh, leaning your head against the glass, not caring about how grimy it might be, and smack your head against it a couple of times. No, no way were you about to call Steve Harrington for a lift.
Not when he fucking set you up. Not when he’d just taken the shred of trust you’d granted him and torn it up immediately. Especially not after crying because you believed a date like that with a guy like Bradley O’Connor was genuine.
You were not calling Steve.
The Harrington household number is easy to find in the paper phone book.
It’s under Steve’s father’s name, some prick with big money who’d likely report you to the police for harassment if he picked up the phone. You stare at it and then at the phone, a frown set on your brow as you weigh it up.
Steve didn’t work Friday night — you know, because it used to be a night to go visit Robin, back when you avoided Steve.
A stray thought floats up, bringing back the words of Robin on the phone as she had celebrated the news. It’s a bitter memory now, made entirely worse as you recall what she had said. Steve talked you up, her voice crackled down the wire, when O’Connor came in. Put in a good word for you.
A new emotion surges in your chest and you’re relieved to shrug off some humiliation for anger. God, you feel even more stupid for thinking Steve would’ve actually talked you up.
As you punch in the number, the keypad taking a bit of a beating, you huff and think at the very least, he can owe you a ride for ruining your evening.
“Harrington residence, this is Steve.”
“Harrington.” You spit it out with venom. On the other side of the phone, Steve recoils a bit, surprised at the tone.
“y/n? I thought you were—”
“I’m on Cavendish Boulevard, right by Tony’s. Come pick me up.” It’s fierce and clipped. You don’t really want to unleash your anger on the phone, lest he leaves you stranded and you have to ring around your mother’s friends just to find her. You just want to go home.
Steve makes a noise of confusion over the phone, a bit slow on the uptake. “But I thought tonight was—”
“Harrington.” you say again, a little softer, your emotions leaking into your voice involuntarily. Fuck, you sound pathetic but in the moment you can’t bring yourself to care. You plead, “Please.”
“I’m coming,” He says, voice indicating he’s caught on to why you might be calling. “Yeah, I’m coming, just sit tight.”
Fact #6: When Steve Harrington says he ‘knows a spot’, he doesn’t always mean Skull Rock.
You’re angry.
That much Steve can tell. Steve’s reminded too much of the last ride he gave you when you pop the door, sliding almost uncomfortably into the passenger seat and turning your clenched jaw towards the window.
Unrest torments Steve’s head, unsure if he’s gained enough trust to ask what went wrong this evening. On the other hand, you had called him. At the very least, you trusted him to come and get you.
The tires groan as he drives out of Tony’s parking lot, the hood of the car dipping to the gutter and rolling out onto the quiet roads.
“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” Steve drives slow so his eyes can flick over to you, watching the way you smooth your hands down your thighs, a self-soothing motion. It makes his chest twinge, a tad more worry than he’s probably warranted to considering you are barely friends. If that.
“Depends.” you finally turn to face him, a pinch in your eyebrows. “What did you say to Bradley?”
Steve detects the cynicism of your question in a heartbeat. Even though he knows he was all charm, Robin even affirmed it, he still rehashes the conversation, scrutinizing it for what he had said wrong.
You take his silence as admittance. Scoffing lightly, you focus back out the window, eyes boring into the streets. You’re in the middle of a mutter, something like I was so right about you when Steve manages to find his voice.
“I—” Shyness has crept up inside, Steve suddenly worried you’ll find his comments odd and not endearing. Worse, you’ll think he’s being in-genuine again. You’re just quiet, waiting. “I told him that he should take you to the cinema, instead of just renting a film. That you deserved a better— a proper date.”
He shoots a look in your direction, trying to see how you take in the words. Your shoulders have bunched up stiffly, your body turning further away but he can still see the furrow in your brow, angry emotions emitting out in every direction from you — you don’t believe him.
“I swear,” He continues, more desperate to prove himself. “I said something about— that you were a catch and- and you can ask Robin, I swear to—”
“Steve, stop.”
Horror churns through his gut when Steve realises you’re crying, soft tears dripping off your cheeks. As if you can sense he’s about to talk again, ready to rattle off his insistence, you speak before him.
“If I believe you,” you inhale shakily, pushing your palms into your eyes hard. You don’t want to cry in front of Steve. “If you’re telling the truth, then that means...”
Your teeth chew on your lip, hiding its quiver as you relive the humiliation of earlier all over again. “It means, I was actually stupid enough to believe him.”
Painfully, Steve can feel the embarrassment rolling off you in waves as you bury your face away. He swears under his breath. He’d detected asshole from Bradley two words in but this? This was not even in the ballpark of what he’d considered happening tonight. How fucking childish to ask someone out as a joke.
You seem to be slipping into a ramble, uncaring that you’re pouring your feelings out to Steve — Steve who you hate, or at least you did. Steve who you were ready to verbally pummel a minute ago. Steve who is looking at you so gingerly that you might consider he actually cares about you.
“He- all his friends were there.” You admit, words wobbling and tone revealing your utter mortification. “It was just a big fucking joke.”
For a minute, the car is silent; you stare at the road and watch it get swallowed beneath the car.
“I’m— I’m so fucking sorry.” Steve starts again, feeling like he’s managed to take one step forward and fifteen backward with you. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “I had no idea he would do that, I swear, I wouldn’t have—“
He cuts himself off, apparently out of words to say, or taking your silence as a cue to shut up. His apology sits in the silence and you know now, he means it. Bradley’s smugness compared to Steve’s sincerity leaves no contest; you’d been too in your own head to realise you’d muddled them up.
You’re faintly aware that Steve has been driving absently, guzzling up gas so you can have a moment suspended away from reality. But he seems to grip the wheel tighter, with more purpose, and instead of looping the block again, Steve picks a route.
You wipe under your eyes again, sniffling through your clogged throat. “Where are we going?”
Steve adjusts his grip on the steering wheel, throwing a glance at you.
“Where I go when I’m upset.”
A snarky retort rises in your mind on instinct, the hurt part that wants to lash out, make someone hurt like you’re hurting. You think about saying something like what does rich, popular Steve Harrington get upset about? when he says, “Helped me a lot after the, uh, the mall fire.”
You swallow the words on your tongue and guilt stains your throat.
It’s a short drive; Steve drives so comfortably that you question how many times he’s traced this route. Too plagued by horrid memories, forced into his car and driving until he’s tired enough to sleep without nightmares.
You can’t say you’re expecting the stretch of road that crawls out to Skull Rock. For a moment you regard him, wondering if he’s daft enough to try to get lucky right now. But the car veers off track, driving down a less traveled path.
He doesn’t stop til you’re surrounded by timber trunks — there’s not much room to open your door when Steve puts the car into park.
Normally, you make a witty comment — “You didn’t bring me out here to kill me, right? I can’t see how that would make me feel any better.” — but you bite your tongue. You feel too downbeat to be witty now.
Steve rounds the car and pops the trunk, leaning over it with one hand still gripping the top. He rummages for a moment, moving junk around til he pulls out a couple of items: a baseball bat, some bag that clinks noisily, and a few other items, stuffed quickly into the bag. He tucks the baseball bat under his arm.
“C’mon,” he murmurs and waves you to follow him, after shutting the trunk and locking the car. Again, you’re eerily aware that this route is well-familiar to Steve. You stumble to keep up, eyes on your feet so you don’t get a face full of dirt.
Eventually, the trees give way to a clearing littered with various junk, glittering broken glass all around making Steve tell you to watch where you step.
He makes his way towards a rotten tree trump in the centre of the clearing, poorly cut and barely a flat surface on it. Still, Steve digs around in the bag and fishes out an empty beer bottle. You think you can guess where he’s going with this.
Carefully, he manages to balance it on a slanted surface and as expected, he draws the bat out from under his arm and offers it to you.
The wood is warm from being pressed against his side and you curl your fingers around it, sapping it into your hands. He digs around in the bag for another moment, revealing a pair of safety glasses — damn, he’s really prepared.
Steve unfolds them and steps closer, offering them out to you — but you don’t remove your hands from the bat, instead jutting out your chin to indicate for him to put them on for you.
It makes him pause. Steve regards you for a moment, eyes unsure before he steps even closer.
It steals your breath, the intensity of his gaze as he pushes the glasses up your nose, his fingers tracing along the rims and down the arms of the glasses, tucking any stray hair behind your ears. It’s oddly intimate, watching him through the plastic, his expression focused, breath fanning over your face. He looks handsome — the shadows cutting his jawline nicely and you can smell his cologne when he’s this close.
When he steps back, you have to remind yourself to breathe — the scent of him still swirls in your chest.
Even though you know what he’s brought you here for — the bottle, the bat, the open junkyard already doused in broken litter — you still don’t make a move.
Steve gestures to the bottle. “Hit it. Hard as you can.”
It’s a soft instruction; you know if you wanted, you could turn around and he’d drive you all the way home, no questions asked. But then you’d spend the rest of your evening drowning your sorrows, wallowing in a pint of ice-cream and sniffling over the phone to Robin.
You turn to face the bottle, lifting the bat, and readying your grip.
Holy shit, she actually came.
The bat connects fast with the bottle, a loud crash pistoling off and filling the clearing — the brown glass dissolves into the night, pieces are thrown in every direction and you’re suddenly very grateful for the safety glasses.
You heave in a breath, surprised by how that felt. It’s thrilling. You whip around to look at Steve and choke on a laugh at what you see — he’s put on a ridiculous pair of sunglasses.
They’re not at all the usual stylish ones he’s worn to parties before. It’s likely didn’t want that pair damaged but still needed to protect his eyes. Instead, these pair look like women’s sunglasses, with big wide round frames. It’s a bizarre sight, Steve Harrington is women’s sunglasses, at night-time no less.
“Nice glasses.” The tease falls off your lips instinctively, a laugh contained in the words.
Back to poking fun at him — a definite sign you’re feeling better. He sighs, playing it up, popping his hip, and planting his hands on his sides.
“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, but he’s smiling. “Be thankful I gave you the cool ones. Normally, it’s just me up here anyways.”
It’s somewhat of a lie. He’d bought two pairs of the safety glasses, one for Robin as well, but she hadn’t liked the loud noises of broken glass when he brought her with him.
But Steve thought the stupid oversized glasses his mom had tried to dump — he was going to offer them to Robin but it had slipped his mind — would be a better choice. You wouldn’t be thinking about fucking O’Connor if he’s in women’s sunglasses.
It’s surprisingly effective; a giggle titters out of you again and you cover your mouth as if it’ll help hide the sound. You’re a bit bewildered at how easy it feels to laugh so soon.
Steve pushes the glasses up onto the top of his head, his hair sticking up at odd angles and he narrows his eyes at you. His smile gives him away. He bends and roots through the bag, finding another bottle for you to smash. The sunnies slip back down to cover his eyes as he sets up the next one.
It wobbles precariously on the stump but you don’t wait for it to settle, baseball bat swinging and shattering it in a second.
“Fuck!” You scream and the curse is swallowed up in the splintering sound of glass. Steve whoops, looking almost like a suburban mom, cheering from the sidelines. The scream helped — hell, swinging with all your might and channeling your rage into demolishing a bottle was definitely helping. You don’t feel upset, you feel enraged.
The stump isn’t empty for long, Steve dutifully scoops up another bottle and places it out for you. He pauses, sunglasses back in his hair, and points at the bottle as he fixes you with a determined look.
“This one’s O’Connor.”
You meet his eyes, his brows knitted together and an expression that says he wants you to destroy it because he’s angry with you — angry for you. He steps back.
When you hit it, an earsplitting crack thunders out. The bottle fractures, fragments careening off in every direction. A wild grin sweeps across your face, knowing that whatever comes at school next week— whether Bradley went back to ignoring your existence or used tonight as fuel for taunting — you could just picture how you felt as you shattered that bottle.
“That felt good.” You breathe out, turning back to Steve. Your teeth graze your bottom lip, sinking in to stop from grinning like a lunatic. A delirious laugh wrestles itself out of your chest and you let your head drop back, eyes turning up at the inky sky, laughs petering out.
Steve tries to ignore how the sound lights up his chest like a Christmas tree, some part of him burning with glee with the knowledge you’re feeling better because of something he did.
He watches your gaze rove across the sky, searching for something he doesn’t know. He’s not sure if he should dig out the next bottle or whether this was it — that now, he’d take you home now and he’d be back to just a brief hint of a smile from you if that.
Head dropping forward, you offer back the baseball bat and Steve’s heart sinks.
Reining in his dejection so it doesn’t show, Steve takes it from you and pulls a polite smile; at the very least, he’ll get some credit with Robin for cheering up her best friend.
As he moves to tuck it under his arm, he freezes at your own motions. You’re bending down, rummaging through the bag, and scoring a bottle — this time, a big champagne bottle, left on the bench from the last time his parents had been home. Four? No, five days ago.
You plant it on the stump, hands hovering around it as it quivers for a moment, only dropping them when the bottle finally settles. You step back, look at him and Steve finally understands what you’re doing.
Surprise sprouts in his chest, his lips parting. You’re giving him a turn?
“Well?”
He’s been gawking a bit, he realises and Steve remembers to close his mouth. He shifts the bat out from under his arm and then pulls the sunglasses off his head. He offers them to you, with a nod.
“Swap. I’ll miss the bottle completely with these on.”
“But that’ll make me laugh.” You point out, tone cheeky as you pass them over regardless.
Steve slides them on, a dramatic eye-roll as he steps up to swing. He’s usually only here when his anger is feeling uncontrollable, like hot lava boiling over and burning him from the inside out. He’s calmer tonight, with no emotions running rampant — well, maybe not any bad ones at least.
He scrounges his brain to think of what’s annoyed him this week; Keith, as always. The champagne bottle on the stump, the only bitter evidence his parents had been home in the last week. The agonizing wobble in your voice as you’d cried in the passenger seat of his car.
There’s a familiar burn in his muscles when he swings, another bottle sacrificed to anger and destined to a life scattered in the dirt. You whoop loudly, just as he had, and Steve can understand why you’d laughed at the sight of him in those sunglasses. They’re huge and you look nearly bug-like, shiny round domes of black staring back at him.
“Nice glasses.” He grins cheekily, a copy of your own words. He doesn’t need to see your eyes to know you’re rolling them at him.
The bat and safety glasses get passed between you two, equal turns until the bottles run out. Steve’s only sorry he didn’t bring more, drinking in the giddy and wild grin that overcomes your face when another bottle meets its fate.
When you pack it in and stumble back to his car, Steve revels in the closeness you seemed to have gained. No longer three steps behind, your shoulders brush his on the walk and when you stumble over a root, your hand shoots out and grips his arm, steadying yourself. You hold it for a moment longer than you should.
The skin of your hand still tingles as you slide into the passenger seat. The air of the car is more comfortable now, cozy even, as Steve cranks the heat and the trees pass you in a blur as you drive out. Bruce Springsteen’s Hungry Heart is warbling on the radio, the volume turned low and you can’t help but stare at him.
You were so wrong about him.
You were so astronomically wrong about him; it’s the only thing you can think of as you drive home, amber streetlights illuminating the streets of Hawkins. The clock on the dash reads 9.57pm — meaning you’ve been with Steve for nearly two hours. The fact nearly draws an awed sort of laugh, but you press it down til it’s only a smile, hidden as you turn back to the window.
He drops you off by 10.14pm, insisting on buying you a milkshake to complete the night.
Honest, I get one after every time I smash shit. It’s hard work you just did! He’d said as he ordered. One chocolate shake for you, one vanilla, for him. You gotta, like, replace electrolytes and all. The fact you don’t think he’s said it to make you laugh, makes you laugh even harder.
The milkshakes sustain the silence on the final drive home and you quickly understand immediately the importance of the shake. After all the frustration, the sugar is near soothing as the cold sweet dances on your tongue.
The engine idles as Steve brings the car to a halt by the curb outside your house. You eye it, astonished by your reluctance to end the evening and you wonder if Steve can tell.
You don’t know if you want him to notice it or not; reading into your hesitancy feels like a whole new can of worms. The porch light is on, waiting for you.
Home. What you’ve been yearning for since 7.15pm this evening — finally, the roller-coaster of emotions has wrung you out and tiredness seeps into your bones. But you can’t leave without a goodbye. Not without telling Steve what tonight meant to you.
“Thank you.”
You don’t mean to murmur it, but it’s nearly a whisper as you take your eyes off the house to turn to Steve in the driver’s seat.
Steve somehow manages to soften more at the quiet words, an easy smile pulling on his lips. He nods. It means of course like you don’t even have to thank him for it. The car purrs beneath you, filling the silence with a quiet rumble.
You want to say it again, louder because it’s not just a thank-you — it’s thank you, I’m sorry, I was wrong about you, can we start over? I hated you for the longest time but do you ever think you could like me?
The last thought punches a breath out of you and it sets you in motion. You couldn’t be having those thoughts; not with the tension in the air, his closeness so enticing now you’ve tasted it once. You couldn’t be having those thoughts at all.
You’re on the sidewalk, about to close the door before you remember to squeak out a ‘goodnight!’. The walk to your door is short enough that you shouldn’t feel the cold of the night — besides, you’re too warm inside, emotions churning wildly to notice anyways.
It doesn’t help when you reach the porch and peek over your shoulder, the maroon BMW still waiting by the curb, amber headlights shining, for you to make it inside okay.
Fact #7: You’re way too wasted right now.
You’d started with vodka and that had been, what? An hour ago.
An hour ago when O’Connor had made his entrance with his buddies, stupid cheers erupted from the crowd of high schoolers that were stupid enough to worship the likes of him.
Or maybe, you’re the stupid one for hoping you wouldn’t see him tonight.
But if the open invite to Melody Carter’s house for a late-night Saturday party meant the likes of you and Robin could come, of fucking course O’Connor would be there.
You had been only planning on one more drink, the one you’d been pouring when O’Connor showed face, but his smirk across the room had you finishing it instantly. It burned as you swallowed it down, your hands already moving to pour more liquor into your cup.
Two more shots down of — what was it? The label tells you it’s tequila — and you’re thoroughly drunk. Which, honestly, might not be a great move considering the number of people at this party. There are a lot of people here.
What had started as a party for only the senior year had quickly snowballed, kids older and younger showing up. Hell, you were pretty sure you’d seen Aaron Bright pass through the front door, a boy two years out of high school.
Did that mean Steve was coming?
Oh-kay, that had to be the tequila speaking.
But once the thought is in your head, it spins out, unstoppable, careening and building up your hopes before you remember to crush them. You weren’t hanging out to see Steve; quite the opposite in fact.
The bottle-smashing adventure you’d shared with him had been just over a week ago and maybe your thoughts had strayed to him a couple of times. A couple of times might be putting it lightly.
You just— you didn’t know how to act around him anymore.
Without the shield of ‘Steve Harrington is a douchebag’ to give a reason for your scowls, you had to admit he was utterly charming.
You couldn’t tell if it was the shift in your own perception or if Steve really was this nice, each sentence flirty or teasing — either way, it meant you were as good as reduced to blundering through any interaction with him.
So, naturally, you’d resorted to avoiding Family Video instead, which, hey, might not have been your best idea.
Robin had tracked you down after you didn’t show up to two of her evening shifts to hang. Gossip flowed as you divulged her in your Friday night, the prank O’Connor had pulled, and the subsequent tears that had followed. With a guilty smile, you let Robin get wrapped up in her anger and forgive your absences — too distracted to even ask how you’d gotten home.
Technically, you hadn’t lied. You had just... omitted certain facts.
Besides, you were feeling confused enough about Steve all on your own. You had no doubt that adding Robin, the mutual best friend between you two, and her opinion would make it all the messier.
Or maybe she’ll tell you what you don’t want to hear. Something in your head whispers, the tequila burning a little fouler in your stomach. That you can’t have him. That she knows him and he would never want you.
For good measure, you chase down one more shot.
And that’s how Steve finds you — wasted out in the back garden of a party.
Robin had invited him, halfheartedly during one of their shifts. Honestly, a high school party had very little appeal to him — most parties had no appeal after the events that had transpired in the last couple of years.
But Robin had been a bit adamant as she realised he didn’t have a date lined up like he usually did. He’d winced as she connected the dots, counting on her fingers that it had been nearly two months since he’d used his weekend for social plans. That is, excluding hanging with Robin.
The fact he stopped going on dates round bout the same time you stopped completely ignoring him was completely unrelated. But Steve was glad Robin didn’t notice the coincidence, so she couldn’t grill him about it.
In fact, she was surprisingly mute over his sudden agreement when Robin purposefully mentioned you’d be there. Her twinkling eyes said she knew more than she’d let on.
And at first, it seemed like a colossal mistake to come.
Steve didn’t like alcohol like he used to. The last few years had birthed something in him that hated not being in control of his body, especially when dark corners seem to hold something more sinister, or the lights flickered.
Or maybe it was the fact he hasn’t really been to a party since Halloween ‘84. Steve shoves the memory of that night down, away.
He lasts two minutes in the crowded main room before he’s shouldering out, hoping the garden will provide some relief. It brings lungfuls of fresh air, the natural blanket of the night and you.
You’re fairly certain you came out here to fight the spinning in your head, desperate for fresh air but now, sprawled out on the cool grass, you’re completely distracted by staring up at the sky. You’re not exactly sure what you’re looking for, gazing into the stars.
A head pops into your vision, Steve’s hair flopping over as he peers down at you. “y/n?”
“Steve!”
Whatever he was expecting, it was not the unbridled glee in your voice. You squirm happily, like a slug in the rain, and if your slurring hadn’t given you away, it’s evidence of how drunk you are. It doesn’t matter that something in his head says she’s drunk, he still finds himself smiling.
“That’s me.” He scans the garden for Robin, assuming the two of you would be together. Concern laces his next words. “Why ya out here on the grass, sweetheart?”
It’s the wrong thing to say. Steve’s not sure what it is he’s said, but he’s never seen a reaction like this out of you before; your hands cover your face, giggles slipping loosely out as if you’re hiding a secret.
Sweetheart. You hide the flame in your face behind your hands. There’s nothing to be done for your giggles, loud and drunken, not stopping no matter how much you will yourself. The pet-name brands itself onto your heart, the heat of it racing under your skin.
Steve tries again. “Where’s Robin? I thought you two came together.”
“We did.” You remove your hands to reveal your wide-eyed expression as if just remembering the fact yourself. Man, that must have been ages ago. “She was talking to... to...”
“Vickie?” Steve supplies, with an amused smile.
“Yes!” You snap your fingers at him, expression showing a little bit of disbelief mixed with awe. It shows in your words. “How did you know that, Steve?”
Steve. Not Harrington. You’ve called him by his name twice and Steve’s a little embarrassed by how much he likes it. Likes the sound of his name in your mouth, on your lips.
He shakes his head like an etch-a-sketch to get rid of the thought, mind stuck on your lips too long. Stay focused, Steve chides himself. Extending out a hand, he offers it to you with the intent to have both of you track down Robin.
Though, if you’d last seen her with Vickie, there’s a chance Robin would bite his head off for interrupting the two of them. Vickie, apparently, had a hard time believing the fact Steve and Robin’s relationship was entirely platonic in nature. Tracking her down at a party might not help.
He’s pulled out of the tangent of thoughts when you slap your hand into his — and tug.
Steve topples, immediately grateful for his lack of alcohol because, with any less coordination, you’d be squished beneath him. A hand plants on either side of your head, catching himself just above you. You grin, alcohol on your breath and Steve isn’t completely sure whether he’s imagining the pink on your cheeks.
“Uh,” Steve says, before scrambling off you hastily. He wasn’t sure if he could be so close to you without his face growing warm; or worse, he didn’t want you to be uncomfortable. Though spying your amused expression, as if you’d known the closeness would make him blush, maybe Steve didn’t need to be worried.
“S’just,” you say, words a bit mumbled. “s’lay down on the grass. Y’know, look at the stars.”
You point up at the sky in case Steve didn’t understand. The grass is still cool under your back and your head isn’t spinning so much but you don’t really feel like moving. Something in you knows that your limbs will feel like cinder-blocks and movement will send your head back into a tizzy.
Without thinking, your push your lips into a pout and aim it at him. Steve flops down without argument.
“You didn’t tell me why you ended out here,” says Steve, wanting to keep you talking. He’s not entirely confident you won’t just fall asleep if the two of you lapse into silence.
You swing your neck, head lolling to the side to look at Steve. Eyes narrowed, it’s like you’re trying to see if he’s genuinely asking. Whatever you find in your search must satisfy you, because you speak, rolling your head back to peer upwards.
“O’Connor’s here.” You say, bitterness in your tone. “Then my head started spinnin’.”
Steve watches as you tilt your head back towards him, pulling a smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “S’now I’m here.”
You’re not sure what convinces you to do what you do next.
Perhaps, it’s because Steve’s expression is tilting too close to pity and you don’t want it; or that you feel lonely enough that you’ll take touch whenever you can, brave enough with the alcohol in your blood to ask.
Or maybe, you just want an excuse to touch him.
“Gimme your hand.” With a gesture of your own, you hold your hand up like you might be asking for a high-five. It wavers, fingers quivering if he looked close enough. After a moment of confusion, Steve humours you.
You feel the callouses first, rough skin scratching against yours as Steve gingerly holds his hand out, letting your press your own against it. It’s warm, warmer than your own and you wish you could twist your fingers until they slotted in with his.
Don’t says a voice in your head, drowned out in the drunkenness. Don’t do this to yourself. Maybe, it’s the voice of reason. It seems you’re very good at building yourself up just to get torn back down.
Hand pressed to hand, you can’t find it in yourself to care about that; you want to touch him, so you ask, and he gives it to you. The alcohol makes it black and white.
You hated him. You did, but now it’s all garbled and wonky and different — and you don’t hate him at all. Not anymore. Every complication you had worked up, all the knots tied in your brain seem to dissolve; hand to hand, it’s easy to admit what you’d been denying to yourself.
“I used to hate you, y’know.”
Steve’s not sure if this will ever get easier to hear. That people he’s grown close to carry reminders, unshakeable memories, of an old ego that still haunts him.
He doesn’t know what to say. He knows you know he’s sorry, that he’s different now. So, he weakly says. “Used to?”
“Yeah.” A smile finds your lips, tugging them up slightly. Steve thinks he could marvel forever at how your lashes kiss in the corner when you smile. It’s aching. “Used to.”
“S’kinda hard to hate you,” you sigh, eyes turning skyward. “I should. You didn’t even remember me a couple months s’ago,”
Steve focuses on your hand against his to deter the twinge in his heart. Your hand is smaller than his and when he curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours. A breath bursts past your lips, loud enough he hears it.
“M’sorry.” he whispers, though he’s said it time and time again.
He doesn’t care; he’ll say it a thousand it times if you’ll keep looking at him like that. Features soft, so different to the glare he’s all but memorised — instead, your eyebrows drawn together like the sight of both your hands, palm to palm, might be the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
Steve feels you push back against his fingers, a gentle pressure like you’re trying to hug him back.
“And now I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Even while drunk, you can’t look at him while you confess. If you look at him, then it’s real and logic will prevail and you’ll rein everything back in.
Looking at both of your hands, feeling the yearning spool in between your ribs — none of it matters. You like him so much that it feels woven into everything else; weaved into the noises of the party, the black of the night, the grass tickling the back of your legs.
You like him so much it makes you sick.
On second thought, that might be the alcohol.
Steve’s response, whatever it might be, vanishes when you rip your hand away and sit up suddenly — emptying to contents of your stomach into a lovely rosebush to your right. Disgusted with the sudden visual aid to what you had for dinner, you groan. The movement has sent your head spinning again, rotating out of the same orbit as Earth.
Steve’s palm soothes down your spine, rubbing warmth as he murmurs comfortingly.
“Shit, sweetheart,” he mutters, more to himself. “You’ll be feeling it in the mornin’.”
You groan again, eyes sliding shut and tumbling you into darkness.
Fact #8: You’re never drinking, ever again.
You’ll be feeling it in the morning. The last memory of last night curls up like smoke in your head and all you can think is Steve was fucking right.
The sheets feel scratchy as you release an agonised noise into your pillow, coiling in tighter. There’s a pounding in your head, bleeding out of your ears and eyes and you don’t think you’ve ever felt so terrible in your life.
Eyes screwed shut tight, you move slowly and draw your head up. Sneaking a look, relief fizzes in your chest as the recognition of your sheets — you made it home, you’re in bed. Never mind that you can’t quite remember how you got here. A shuffle of your legs tells you, uncomfortably, you’re still in last night’s jeans.
What time is it? There’s sun coming through the gap in the curtains. Daytime. Some sleep-covered murmur escapes you, though even you can’t tell what it’s supposed to mean.
Plopping your head back down, you search your memories. It’s an effort to push past your headache to put together the puzzle of last night. Visions of arriving at the party, of drink number one, and dancing with Robin are clear but sometime after O’Connor shows up they begin to get hazy.
You remember the cool grass. The moon. Steve. God, that’s right, he was there — what you might have said to him is anyone’s guess. Another grainy and fogged memory of puking in the bushes. The rest of the night is locked behind a tequila fueled paywall in your brain
Burrowing back into your sheets, the hangover takes priority and you only hope to sleep it off.
—
The next time you wake, the pounding in your head has shifted to the door.
You can’t have been asleep for more than an hour according to your alarm clock, blinking midday numbers back at you as you drag your head up. Thankfully, a large portion of your hangover has been cured with sleep — otherwise, the unending knocks on your door might be the end of you.
You struggle to speak, aware of your sandpaper throat but whatever gurgle you produce is good enough for whoever is on the other side of the door. Robin, judging by the intensity of their knocks.
Lo and behold, Robin bowls into the room once she hears signs of life.
“What did you say to Steve?”
Oh.
That has you sitting up, wincing at the pain it brings and you nurse your head in your hands. “What?” you rasp out. “Nothing!”
That might be a lie. You wince again, searching through you scrambled memories for what she could be referring to and come up short. Robin can read your genuine confusion.
“Why?” The word comes out a bit shot. You clear your throat. “Did he say something to you?”
“Nothing specific,” Robin grimaces a bit. She’s never been the best at hiding her emotions. “He just— he asked if you’d talked to me. Said he was checking if you were still alive. Which, yanno, thank god you are! He said you barfed in Melody’s mom’s rose bush, which quite frankly is hilarious and—“
“Robin.” you moan, trying to cut off her ramble. “Why are you here?”
Robin seems to remember the original reason she was nearly breaking down your door, body jumping like she’s been zapped. “Right!”
She suddenly seems to reconsider herself, ducking her head and beginning a well practiced pace across your carpet. “I know you said you don’t like him, which I get, I know- he was the worst! But I dunno, you seemed to, like, I don’t know? Warm up to him? I guess, he just seemed real bummed on the phone when I said you hadn’t called me.”
A series of emotions jolt through your nerves, none as strong as the elation at hearing Steve had called to ask about you. You push it down with another groan and fling yourself backward, bouncing on the springs of your mattress.
Hands hiding your face, you mumble the next words as if you don’t quite want Robin to hear them.
“I don’t not like him.”
“And I can’t tell what that is supposed mean.” Her pacing hasn’t ceased. Her arms gesticulate wildly as she speaks. “You don’t not like him sorta, to me, just sounds like you like him!”
“Robin,” you whine, well aware of the way she can read you like words on a page. “What do you wanna hear? That you were right?”
Robin halts her pacing, leaning her knees onto the edge of your mattress. You peek at her through your fingers. She’s looking a little more wide-eyed. “Yes. Absolutely. If my two favourite people in the world could suddenly get along, maybe even be friends, I think I’d like to know.”
“We’re not—”
“But that is not why I’m here.” She’s gone serious, brows raised as her voice turns softer. You nearly think she’s taunting you, a hint of a smile hidden in her expression.
“I’m here to discuss the distinct possibility that you have managed to skip the part where we become a cool trio of friends and have traveled into more than friends territory.”
Damn her. She’s too good, unspooling your secret right after you’ve only just managed to admit it aloud (not that you could remember that thought). Dragging your hands down your face, you groan again — there’s no point in hiding it from Robin, especially when she seems to have you all figured out.
“I’m gonna take that as a ‘wow Robin, you’re incredibly smart and totally right’.” She jibes, looking far too smug.
Perplexingly, she doesn’t appear to care that you confirmed Steve had you feeling gooey inside and weak at the knees. You dredge yourself to a sitting position, blankets pooling at your waist, and regard her with as much sarcasm as you can.
“Wow, Robin,” you drawl tiredly, still a bit catty from your lack of sleep. “You’re so totally right.”
“Don’t forget the incredibly smart part.”
You wallop her thigh with your sleeve, halfhearted and not at all mean. She grins. For a moment, you’re monumentally relieved to be sharing this with her — you’re best friends, talking about a boy you like, back to feeling thick as thieves with her.
“You gotta talk to him though, you know that right?”
A sigh. “Yeah, I know.”
—
By the time you’ve rinsed the last of your hangover down the shower drain, washed down with the suds of your strawberry shampoo, the sun is nearing the horizon.
Droplets cling to the ends of your hair, leaving a trail behind you on the carpet as you don fresh clothes. You try your best not to analyse each piece, shoving down any self-doubts and recalling Steve’s generous compliments littered through the past couple of months.
Tonight. It had to be tonight, you decided. Any longer and you’d lose the nerve, crawl back to avoidance because you’re not really sure you want to hear what you said to him in the garden.
You can only imagine it’s some confusing amalgamation of your complicated feelings — mixed with the amount of alcohol you had drunk? It was a stab in the dark trying to guess what you had said.
The plan you have is half-baked at best. The walk to Loch Nora isn’t far — but if your plan goes south, you’ll have plenty of time to wallow and clear your tears on the walk home. Thankfully, It’s still too early for dinner. You can smell the beginnings of it bubbling on the stove as you creep down the stairs.
As soundlessly as you can, you slip out the front door. Warm air greets you. The sunbeams trickle across the sky, dipping lower behind the horizon and painting soft blemishes of pink and orange across the sky.
The other perk of the walk is that you’ll have ample time to decide what you’ll say to Steve; you can deliberate each word, orchestrated so that it can be played down if need be. Minimal cringe and hurt feelings.
You’re running a few options over in your head when the rumble of a car cruising down your road draws your eyes. With a startle, you realise it’s a familiar maroon colour — a car you’d been in just over a week ago.
You watch as Steve parks, evidently so entrapped in his own thoughts to notice you on the doorstep. He’s messing with his hair anxiously, eyes on the ground and when you look closer, his mouth is moving, an indication he’s talking out loud to himself.
He makes it halfway up the driveway before you stumble out to meet him.
“Steve?” You call out and his head shoots up, a little alarmed to see you. His steps falter, the pair of you met in the middle of your drive.
“Y/n. Hi.” For someone who had come to your house, he seems a bit affronted to be seeing you. Acutely, you realise that he’s nervous. He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, gesturing to the road. “Were you— is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to intrude—”
“No!” You squeak. “No, I was just... coming to see you, actually.”
“Oh.” Steve blinks. He ducks his head for a moment, clearing his throat but you still spot the pink on his cheeks. “How’s your head? You’d had, uh, a lot to drink last night.”
There’s only a mild rush of embarrassment to your system, a sheepish grin playing at your lips. “Right. Last night- I’m sorry you had to, er, see that. Or rather, thank you for taking care of me.”
Steve smiles back. One hand reaches up to scratch the back of his neck, a nervous motion. You don’t mean to zero in on his large bicep, tan skin on display with his short sleeves but it’s impossible not to — Jesus Christ, it’s like he’s doing it on purpose.
You smile timidly, willing your cheeks to cool.
“Yeah, about that.” He starts, eyes shifting about nervously. He can’t pick a spot to focus, too nervous to look you in the eyes.
Steve’s been throwing around your words ever since you uttered them to him in the garden. And now I can’t stop thinking about you. Tone so sweet, so sincere, your brows drawn together like it hurt you to admit how much Steve had been on your mind.
His stomach had nearly turned itself inside out at your reveal, nerves flaming and relief coursing at the realisation that it was mutual. You’d been on Steve’s mind since even before you’d given him your softest smiles after bottle smashing, sugary grins over your milkshake, a genuineness you’d never shared with him before — and after? God, it had driven him mad.
But then you’d scampered out of the car like a spooked animal. Stopped coming by Family Video and cursedly, seemed to slip back into an old pattern of ignoring him.
Then, the garden.
God, if you hadn’t been drunk, and maybe if Steve wasn’t so surprised by the sweetness you showed him, he might’ve kissed you.
Holding your palm against his, you might as well have been grabbing his hopes and hoisting them out of the depths — that perhaps, your avoidance stemmed from something different this time round.
Steve takes in your shy expression, bottom lip trapped in your teeth, and prays it’s all for the same reason he’s nervous and not instead, because you’re trying to awkwardly figure out how to tell him it was all the alcohol talking.
“What you said…” He’s trying to be nice to his feelings, on the defence in case he’s so terribly wrong about this. About you. “Did— did you mean that?”
The face you pull doesn’t instill him with confidence, his stomach plummeting at your hesitance. Fuck. He’d overshot, as usual, clinging too tightly to the threads of affection you’d shown him.
“I…” You’re unsure where to begin. God, what did you say?
Steve thinks he can garner what reaction that is; it’s the exact opposite of what his heart had managed to convince him. You went back to avoiding him on purpose. He cuts you off hoping to save himself some awkward rejection, shaking his head and taking a step back.
“Don’t worry. It was— you were drunk,” Embarrassment starts flooding in, a hot uncomfortable flush up his neck that makes Steve want to sink into the ground. “I shouldn’t have— it was weird of me to ask.”
He’s rambling too fast to get a word in. You take a step forward as he takes another step back, worried that he’ll leave before you can even get a word in. Never mind that all plans for orchestrating the perfect thing to say are out the window — you have to say something.
“I don’t know what I said!” You blurt, desperate to halt his retreat. It works; Steve stops, taken aback by your words. Oh God, what now? You debate where to start.
“Seriously, I— Robin came over and was talking about how you’d called and— I-I remember some of last night but it’s a bit—”
“You don’t...” Steve interrupts, giving a confused shake of his head. The wind ruffles his hair, strands dancing over his forehead. “Remember any of it?”
Why does it feel like you’ve disappointed him? Despite your initial wish to not relive whatever you’d said in the garden, you’re suddenly dying to remember. Even now, you can feel yourself combing the hazy memories, hoping there’s a stone you’ve yet to turn. It’s fruitless.
“I remember embarrassing myself by puking in the bushes.” You grimace as you say it, heat rising in your face. You can feel your nerves fraying, heart pounding but none of it in a good way. “Look, Steve, does it matter what I said? I-“
“It does.” He says, voice suddenly lower. It rasps, more serious than before. “It matters if you meant it. Do you?”
He takes another step forward, close enough that you can smell his cologne again. The same comforting musky scent as when he pushed the safety glasses up your nose and tucked your hair behind your ears in the woods together, touch gentle and eyes kind.
“You said,” He breathes, his honey eyes hopeful. “You couldn’t stop thinking about me.”
Oh.
It seems to be a habit of yours; rewinding through your actions towards Steve in the past, heavy with regret. He’d still been sweet, checking on you out in the garden even though you’d left him in the dark for a week. After managing to make you forget the worst date ever.
Then you’d upchucked your feelings, so drunk you couldn’t remember it, and then your dinner too. You were a mess; Steve Harrington made you a lovely absolute mess. Fuck, you’d likely ruined whatever chance at something with him.
But then again, here he was.
Still showing up, enough hope to dredge together the courage to drive over and ask you what it meant.
“I meant it.” You say, softly. You feel captured in his gaze, pulled into his orbit with no choice about it. He’s like the sun, gravity pulling you closer the longer you stand this close to him. Your heart feels like it’s made of jelly, each thump echoing out into your limbs. “I— fuck, you made it so hard to hate you. I used—”
“—Used to hate me.” Steve recites the words before you can say them, amusement in his voice. Some of his nervousness has leaked out, shoulders less tight. You can nearly see a glint of his Harrington charm in the curl of his lips. “Yeah, you said that last night too.”
It’s said to poke fun, teasing you for last night’s loose tongue. You groan, head tilting back. “God, anything else I said last night that I should know about?”
Steve steps closer. It makes your breath hitch, your head straightening up and bringing your faces closer still. You’re not sure where this is going, not sure what he’s thinking, if he can hear the thunder of your heart — he hasn’t even said anything that implies the feelings are mutual.
You vaguely wonder how he knew that your words held more weight than they appeared. He’d been paying more attention than you’d expected; knowing that I can’t stop thinking about you meant more than what was on the surface.
This time, you know him well enough to know that his teasing is not mocking. That the Steve in front of you is not at all like the one you’d remembered from the school hallways, the one who’d thrown around shitty comments, had notches in his belt, and didn’t care who got hurt as a result.
He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, he says, “I can’t stop thinking about you either.”
The world doesn’t stop spinning, but for a moment, it certainly feels that way. Blood rushes in your ears, blooms under your cheeks, and the words sink in. The wind sounds like the sweetest music, the colour spread across the sky is a shade that could only be called love and a boy is telling you he likes you too.
It faintly occurs that the silly teenage daydream you pictured with Bradley — you’re instead getting with a boy you swore you hated not two months ago.
It makes you like him even more.
He’s earned it, your trust, your affection — your kiss.
Wordlessly, you surge forward at the same time Steve does. You clash, gifting each other an awkward headbutt instead of some swooning kiss. Pain splinters momentarily across your forehead, gone after a moment.
You can’t help it, a laugh bursting from your lips. You’re so nervous. It doesn’t deter you, peering up at him with adoring eyes. Somehow, you still manage a tease. “Were you trying to kiss me, Harrington?”
His hands cup your face, fingers tucked under your jaw, and thumbs stroking your cheeks. His own smile barely contained, elation shining in his eyes.
“I will if you stop calling me that.”
He kisses you before you even get a chance to agree.
There’s bliss hidden in his lips, you think happily. Steve kisses soft, plush lips that mold to yours like its second nature, two pieces of the universe aligning.
You can feel the heat of his mouth, the scratch of his thumbs upon your face and you sigh, content, into the kiss because no one has ever kissed you like this.
He kisses you and suddenly, there is no war-torn battle in your mind. Your hands have twisted into the fabric on his shirt, tugging him closer. It’s unbearable. You want him, completely, embarrassingly, and undeniably. You’ll take anything he’ll give you — you want him to give you everything.
When the kiss breaks, it’s only for a moment; Steve presses another, short and gentle, then another, and another, like he can’t handle not stealing another taste of your lips.
“Steve,” you rasp, chuckling a bit. Your eyes are still closed, like you’re worried it’ll all be some dream if you dare to open them. His nose nudges yours, crushing closer to you, unwilling to relent the closeness he’s finally been granted.
“Let me take you out.” He whispers and it’s enough to open your eyes, lashes crinkling as you beam up at him. Steve drops a kiss on your cheek, thumbs stroking with a tender care that makes you shiver. “Please.”
As if you could say no. You give a minuscule nod but your delight is given away in your smile, eyes bright as you admire each detail of his face fondly. “Yeah, alright.”
It makes him laugh, amusement dancing across his features, and God, he looks so handsome you have to kiss him again.
You do, hands escaping the confines of his shirt and twisting around his neck. Steve hums happily, something you’ll come to learn he does whenever you kiss him first. It makes you gleeful, a shot of pure euphoria tipping down your spine. You shiver, wonderfully.
“Just promise me,” you say when you pull back, breathing a titch ragged. You grin. “Not a movie date.”
Steve grins, one hand leaving your face to curl around your waist. It’s warm, heat radiating into your skin.
“Still no faith in me, sweetheart?” He chides, fingers dancing along the skin of your waist, giving away his joy. The pet name makes your knees weak, a flash of a forgotten memory in the garden breaking through.
“Something tells me you’ll convince me.”
Fact #9: The first fact is a lie.
His next kiss feels like a promise; that he’ll do the work to convince you, just like he’d done the last few months. That he’d be more than happy to. You drink in affection from a boy who’s so sweet on you with a happy sigh.
He tastes like sunlight.
Fact #10: You might just be falling in love with Steve Harrington.
taggin sum mutuals below!
@hawkinsindiana @spideystevie @harringtonbf @writtenbybelle @hoesbloated @familyvideostevie @lurkymurker @sattlersquarry @steddiesandwich @circesstars @upsidedownwithsteve @raggedyoldwitch @sunshinehollandd @ohschmidts @appocalipse
#this... was so scrummy to write#i can't believe i pumped out that many scenes#i think i started this wanting to prove that i could indeed write a fic past 5k#LO AND BEHOLD 16K LATER#good god i hope u love it#anyways i'm LITERALLY IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!!#steeb...come gimme kiss#i deserve to be called sweetheart by my babygirl bf <3#ruby writes#ruby writes steve#steve harrington#steve#harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve x reader#steve harrington fic#steve fic#steve harrington imagine#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fic#sending a sacrifice (my sleep while i wrote this) to the fic gods....
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THISS -for lack of better terminology- QUARTET!!!!
#stranger things#stranger things 4#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#buck x eddie#nancy wheeler#steve harrington#Harrington#robin buckley#joe keery#natalia dyer#maya hawke#joseph quinn#billy x steve#milly bobby brown#noah schnapp#david harbour#winona ryder
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Guitar lessons at Eddie’s house
#stranger things#stranger things fanart#stranger things fandom#steve harrington#harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steddie fanart#steddie fandom#stranger things 4#digital art#fireflysart
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📸 6 new/old behinds the scenes photos of Joe Keery from Stranger Things Season 4 added!
🔗 https://joe-keery.org/photos/thumbnails.php?album=127
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TOUCH STARVED s.harrington
☆ WORD COUNT - 2.5K
STEVE HARRINGTON X FEM!READER
☆ SUMMARY - you were too shy to speak up for what you wanted, even to your boyfriend for something so simple. fortunately for you, he always seem to know exactly what you need.
☆ WARNINGS - mention of pussy whipped, reader has hair, light insecurity, (1) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷
walking into family video, steve swore he'd never seen such a glum face.
your expression was saddened, not enough to look upset over something but just enough to tell steve what kind of day you'd been having. and believe me, he'd had his fair share of these kind of days.
"you doofus, that's not how you do it." robin argued, as she always was. nothing steve could do for her ever deemed to be the 'right way' however, before he could give back a snappy argument, he snapped his head towards you, the bells of the store giving a quick ring.
robin looked up confused as she received no snarky comeback before glancing towards you. she could have rolled her eyes, how pussy-whipped was this guy? "hey, y/n." she greeted first, watching as steve stepped away from the counter.
"hi, rob." you gave her a sweet, almost shy smile, she returned it in full. robin was very well used to you getting in these little moods, sort of where you shy into yourself. she'd never mentioned it, though, sort of assuming that was just how you were.
"hey, honey." steve was by your side in an instant, snatching up your bag from you so he could hold it. the sight of him had you leaning into him, almost fluttering your eyes shut. a sudden overwhelming feeling of tiredness fell over you. "you okay?"
he was craning his neck to look at you, you merely nodded. "tired." you answered before making your way behind the counter with him.
technically, you shouldn't be behind the counter and if keith were here, he'd surely have something to say about it. but he wasn't.
family video was having one of them slow days that consisted in hardly five customers an hour while steve and robin argued relentlessly on working the stupid computer that had been around way too long for anyone's liking.
you sat on one of the chairs with steve's arm around you. for as long as you could remember, he'd always been like this. touchy.
and truthfully? you were thankful. some days, all you needed was his touch and you didn't even have to ask, merely hold out a hand shyly and it was in yours. but on days like this, even an arm constantly around your shoulder wasn't enough.
your fingers had trailed up to mess with his. his large hand was relatively big in yours, you could lean against his shoulder all the while. in all of this, you could have fallen asleep.
though, that deemed hard with robin and steve's constant arguing. "you idiot!" steve yelled, pushing buttons at the computer and sort of dragging you as he did so. "you're gonna break it!"
"and what if i did?" she argued back. "not like it's worth anything." she would have kicked the computer, had she been right. unfortunately, the computer was worth something, her job.
steve sat himself back on the chair with a scowl before glancing to you.
even the mere sight of you was always enough to calm him down.
"sorry." he mumbled, knowing he was disturbing whatever peace you were getting. you merely waved him off before going back to playing with his fingers.
a couple more customers came in and fled all the same, renting movies that robin and steve would then gossip about as soon as they'd leave the store. oh yeah, horrible movie. i heard the sequels even worse!
it was best for you to leave them do this.
and by seven, it was time to lock up. you stood outside, waiting for steve who was using the key to pull down the store gate.
robin's head came out from underneath, holding her satchel bag. "night guys!" she called after you without turning around. she didn't even have a drivers license so you weren't entirely sure how she was getting home. nonetheless, you'd learned that it was better not to question robin.
"night!" steve called back before turning to you and rolling his eyes. "that girl." he only shook his head and shut his eyes, concealing his obvious irritation towards his best friend.
you only grinned back sheepishly, knowing they despised yet loved one another dearly.
it wasn't until you were sat in the passenger seat of his car, gazing out the window while your hands fiddled with his fingers that sat atop your thigh that he noticed something was wrong. earlier, you'd shrugged it off as mere tiredness and he supposed he believed you.
the night sky was dark and the hot air coming from the car was enough to lull anyone to sleep. yet still, he had a gnawing feeling that you weren't telling him the whole truth.
you weren't a liar, no. steve would say you were many things, never a liar.
however, you had the tendency to hide things from him. not overly important things like seeing someone else or something or other. you just had the tendency to not speak much about your feelings unless directly asked. you'd shy away and sheepishly shrug, not wanting to bother him.
you always had that fear of burdening him.
as the relationship progressed, he noticed this. he too had the fear of burdening. but slowly, you both began to break out of your shells. him undeniably much faster than you.
the stillness of his house told you it was home. the porch lights were on as he led you inside, hand on the small of your back. a couple lights were left on in the house too.
not the large, centre lights.
the warm lamps illuminating the entire house in a cozy aura.
you weren't too sure how you moved from the door to the couch so quickly. nonetheless, you relaxed into the material as the sound of you and steve's show began to play. a new episode every week. it was a ritual in the harrington house. and by that, i mean just you and him.
steve didn't miss the glances you kept shooting him. whether intentional or not, he could see from the corner of his eye, your head move to look at him and suddenly look back at the screen before he could catch you.
when he did, though, he caught exactly what he needed.
you were looking at him all doey, presumably tired however there was something else in your eye, something that gave you completely away.
a longing.
suddenly, everything clicked.
there was a reason you'd been leaning into him so much today, following him around silently like a lost puppy dog. not that he minded, no, he never minded. but he knew something had been wrong and that you didn't think you had voice enough to speak on it.
"what's wrong with you, huh?" he nudged you, voice ever so gentle. though he knew what you wanted, he sort of wanted you to tell him. "been quiet all day."
you leaned your head against the back of the couch, eyes travelling over his pretty features. and he looked especially pretty in the dim lighting of the enormous living room. "'m always quiet." you countered.
in a way, you were far from wrong. more often than not, steve would have to beg you to speak to more people, try get out there because he knew you wanted to. once again, you feared your voice was much too small. "fair point. but you're more quieter today."
you pursed your lips at him. "just quieter." he hummed in confusion. "it's just 'quieter', more quieter isn't the right grammer."
a roll of his eyes was paired with a pretty grin. "see? there's my smart girl. where was she all day, hm? head cloudy?"
truthfully, you didn't know what was wrong. everything just felt so off, all day you'd wanted to be surrounded by him. his embrace, his words, his scent, his everything. and that was becoming a little too much when the cruel world reminded you that it was, in fact, impossible to morph into another human being by hugging them hard enough. "i don' know." you shrugged, voice sort of small.
but steve had been in the game much longer than you.
it started with the simple feeling of his fingers tracing against your cheeks, grasping a strand of hair and curling it between his index finger. he always thought you looked pretty with your hair framing your face. though you were undeniably beautiful in all aspects.
"there something you want?" he didn't ask it in an accusing way that made you sheepishly look away. he spoke ever so quietly, as if careful of disturbing the peace of his rarely quiet house.
once again, you shrugged.
"sweetheart." he gave you this look. this convincing, knowing, look. steve always had a way of communicating to you, even just through his eyes. it was enough for your heart to quench.
he looked as though he knew exactly what had been troubling you, like he knew exactly how to fix it.
how is it that steve harrington seemingly knew everything in the world? sometimes, even he made you feel a little silly. i mean, he was more tuned in with your emotions than you were.
the show that was playing on the tv was low, barely heard as his eyes searched your own. "you know you can ask for anything, yeah?" you nodded your head while chewing your bottom lip. because you did know. steve always made it easy for you to come to him with anything. yet even then, your own shy nature still prevented you from saying all the words that sat against the tip of your tongue. the universe tended to be cruel like that. "c'mere, honey."
his outstretched arms looked like the heaven you'd been searching for.
without second thought, you found yourself climbing into them, breathing out a sigh of relief as your cheek sat itself against his sweater-covered chest.
this is what you wanted.
his legs were outstretched, somewhere for you to sit against while your own wrapped themselves against his torso. there was something so comforting about the feeling of him against you.
he let you relax your face against him, lips shut tight as one of your hands came beneath your chin. while watching the animations flash across the television, you could feel his own arms slinging loosely around your waist, one hand gently playing with the strands of hair while the other traced against your back.
you supposed you weren't morphed into him but this was as good as it was going to get.
perhaps, this was all you needed.
he was gentle, soft and welcoming.
everything you'd been hoping for.
"this all you needed, hm?" the shapes he drew against your back began to feel a lot like words, a lot like 'i love you'. you nodded, humming ever so softly. "should've just asked, baby."
"i didn't wanna bother you." you mumbled, suddenly feeling like the whole thing had been just a little silly.
you felt his hand against your chin, gently tilting it upwards so you could meet his eye. "you never bother me." and you could tell by the chocolatey swirl in his eyes. he wasn't lying.
perhaps two hours passed since that very moment. steve watched the show episode until it ended, flicking on the television programme that was simply on. he could feel your soft breaths against the nape of his neck, hands outstretched towards him.
you'd fallen asleep in his embrace.
he often told you not to watch the show so late if you would fall asleep albeit you always insisted that you wouldn't. low and behold, he was right. he was always right.
and when the final programme ended, and he deemed it was late enough, he decided it was time to get you into bed.
instead of waking you, he opted to pick you up, carrying you upstairs and surely almost dropping you a total of three times because he couldn't register where he was putting his feet. yet eventually, he made it towards the bedroom and placed you against the bed. the warm blankets soon were draped over your body.
and after all the rustling, the thing that stirred you was the creek of the door.
he watched as your eyes parted, obviously still slick with sleep, and cursed himself. he thought, who, as rich as him, would own a door that creeks so loudly? and made a mental note to get new hinges.
"you okay, angel?" he mumbled into the darkness of the room, slipping off his jeans and slipping into bed with you.
"mm." you hummed as he grasped your body again, holding you close. your arms hugged themselves around his neck, shutting your eyes closed. "wanna melt into you." you mumbled, obviously too tired to register what you were saying.
"yeah?" a chuckle fell from his lips, knowing you would never have the confidence to say such a thing while wide awake. nonetheless, he took it as a compliment anyway. "we should try turkey then."
"what's in turkey?" you questioned tiredly.
"i don't know. everything? i mean, if they can give you a new set of teeth, surely they have the answer to your problems too. we can like, melt ourselves together." he was talking nonesence, though it was lulling you back to sleep anyway.
the sound of your sleepy giggle had him holding his breath, wondering if this was all real. "let's go to turkey then."
"i'll put it on our bucket list, angel." you nodded your head, without response. "you goin' to sleep on me? hm?"
"can you..." you cut yourself off with a breath. then, you reminded yourself that it was steve harrington, the boy you loved more than yourself. and you could ask him anything. "can you keep talking?"
"careful what you wish for, i might not shut up." you only giggled gently before allowing him to continue. "did i ever tell you about dustin's girlfriend?" you shook your head. "oh god, you should have seen it..."
this, you were sure, is where you could actually die happy.
main masterlist/steve's masterlist
#steve#harrington#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#stranger things#stranger things x reader#stranger things x y/n#stranger things x you#stranger things imagine#steve harrington au#steveharrington#steve harrington headcannon#steve harrington fanfiction#sleepyangelkami
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Dating Steve Harrington and Being Dustin’s Sister
headcanons
summary: what it’s like to date everyone’s favorite babysitter as a henderson (lowkey enemies to friends to lovers)
WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of canon typical violence, probably some plot inconsistencies bc i don’t remember anything that happened in season two
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader (henderson!reader)
a/n: i realized that i’ve never written for steve so i wanted to do some headcanons that actually got really out of hand and long but it’s okay !! <3 send in some st4 requests if you want :) i also just posted a few more headcanons for steve x henderson!reader here so check those out if you liked this one :))
*not proofread* *no spoilers for st4*
You met Steve during his “King Steve” phase.
The two of you went to school together, you being a year younger than Steve and much less popular, choosing to spend your time studying or hanging out with your little brother and his friends.
You were the original babysitter for the party, often getting stuck watching over them during your free time because of your closeness to Dustin, in particular.
However, you were also close with Nancy so of course Steve had been introduced to you while they were together.
Initially, you weren’t very fond of Steve. The two of you often butted heads while Nancy tried to play the peacemaker.
It didn’t help that you happened to be very close with Jonathan Byers, who Steve and his friends loved to torment relentlessly. You felt a lot of sympathy for Jonathan. Between getting bullied at school and his brother’s disappearance, he was going through a lot.
Your final straw with Steve was when he broke Jonathan’s camera. Even though Steve eventually apologized and Jonathan forgave him, you just couldn’t bring yourself to see past it.
In your mind, Steve Harrington was the biggest douchebag in Hawkins.
That is, until Billy Hargrove moved to town.
Dustin introduced you to Max, who you immediately took under your wing. Unfortunately, with Max came her older stepbrother, Billy.
You were sure that the one and only thing you and Steve Harrington would ever have in common was an utter hatred for Billy Hargrove.
However, your feelings for Steve began to change after things started to go weird again in Hawkins.
When Dustin’s new pet Demogorgon, who he affectionately named Dart, started to get out of hand, he insisted on calling his new favorite person.
Unfortunately for you, this person just so happened to be Steve Harrington.
Already upset by the death of your cat, Mews, you absolutely refused to spend any time with Steve Harrington no matter how much Dustin insisted that “he’s changed!”
Your protests didn’t matter much, however, and Dustin went behind your back, calling Steve anyway.
“What’s he doing here?” “What’s she doing here?” “I live here, doofus.”
Dustin swears he could cut the tension with a knife.
As your troubles with Dart turned into much larger problems, you had no choice but to work with Steve to make sure the party stayed safe.
You and Steve eventually grow pretty fond of each other, much to everyone else’s surprise.
“Did you two just have an ACTUAL conversation? Without insulting each other?” “Shut it, Henderson.”
Steve confides in you about his problems with Nancy. He tells you about her outbursts on Halloween, where she apparently called their relationship “bullshit.” You both agree it was pretty fucked up.
The two of you even fight Demodogs together, absolutely kicking ass much to Dustin’s enjoyment.
“That was so awesome oh my god my sister is so fucking cool you kicked their asses”
Max is the first one to become convinced that you two are in love with each other. Dustin and Lucas absolutely refuse to hear it.
“Look at how she looks at him!” “Please, last week she threw soda cans at him until he almost cried.”
Nancy is also incredibly confused when she finds the two of you seemingly getting along at the Byers house.
While everyone goes to do their respective job, you and Steve are put on babysitting duty again.
Your collective overprotectiveness and downright refusal to deal with their shit makes the kids start calling you “mom and dad”
For some reason, this makes Steve incredibly flustered.
Things take a turn when Billy shows up at the Byers house, pissed off and looking for Lucas and Max.
The rumble of a car pulling into the driveway pulled everyone away from the argument at hand. Headlights flashed through the window as the kids peered out. “Shit!” Max hissed, glancing nervously at Lucas. You briefly recognized the car from school and from Max’s reaction, you could tell it was Billy’s. “Stay here.” Steve’s eyes met yours, a stern look on his face as he looked first at you and then at each of the kids. You nodded, pulling the party away from the window with an anxious feeling in your stomach. You placed a hand on Max’s shoulder, trying your best to reassure her, “Hey, everything’s gonna be fine. Steve will make him go.” Mike and Dustin crouched down, peering nervously out the window. You couldn’t help your curiosity, crouching down beside them. As you peeled out the window, Billy’s eyes suddenly met yours. You couldn’t hear the words that came out of his mouth, however, you could see the disapproving glance from Steve. “Shit! Do you think he saw us?” You weren’t left wondering for long as heavy footsteps marched across the Byers’ front porch and the door furiously swung open.
That night, both you and Steve got your asses kicked by Billy Hargrove. You couldn’t remember much of the night, being knocked out for a good majority of it after jumping on Billy’s back to pull him away from Steve.
You woke to panicked yelling. Taking a minute to adjust to your surroundings, you felt the rough swerving of the car.
“Steve, you drive like a fucking maniac.” You slurred out, bringing your hand up to touch your head. You felt the sticky oozing of blood running down your forehead as you pulled your hands away.
“Oh, hey, sunshine. Listen, don’t panic. You and Steve got your asses royally handed to you. Let me put a bandaid on that for you. You tried! That’s all that matters! You guys will get him next time, don’t worry!”
As your vision became clearer, you recognized Dustin placing a small, pink bandage over the cut on your forehead. His voice was calm. Almost, too calm.
You felt pressure on your shoulder as you turned your head to look. Steve was sleeping on your shoulder, his face battered and bruised.
“Steve? Oh, God.” “Hey, don’t worry! He’s alright! He’s just passed out right now!” “No, no, no, no, who’s driving? Steve, wake up. Who’s driving!”
As you looked up at the drivers seat, you noticed a flash of red hair. You stomach dropped as you realized Max was driving as Lucas and Mike attempted to direct her.
“Oh my god. Steve, wake up.” You nudged him awake with your shoulder.
“Huh? What’s going on?” “Steve, Max is driving.” “OH MY GOD MAX IS DRIVING”
You eventually reached your destination relatively safely. You made a mental note to yell at the kids later and to also never, ever let Max drive.
While in the Upside Down, Steve stuck close by you. Of course, he wanted to make sure the kids were okay but you had a nasty cut on your forehead and were stumbling a bit. He had asked you to stay in the car, but you refused, insisting that you were okay. He makes a point to keep a close eye on you and stay close. He doesn’t know why he’s so worried but he tries to rationalize it as being concerned for his new friend.
After everything is said and done, Steve gives you a ride home. You’re both exhausted and injured, but he makes sure you’re okay. He even offers to spend the night watching movies with you if you’re too scared to sleep, but you refuse, sending him home.
Flash forward to the summer, you and Steve have become pretty good friends and you both find a job in the new Starcourt mall at an ice cream parlor.
When you first see Steve in his Scoops outfit, you can’t help but laugh.
“Aw, Steve, don’t be like that. You look adorable in your little sailor hat!” “Yeah, yeah, you have to wear it too, smartass.”
You convince yourself that the way his cheeks flare up at the word “adorable” is out of embarrassment and absolutely nothing else.
After everything was over, you and Steve arranged to have weekly movie nights with the party.
However, with Dustin gone to camp, Mike and El spending most of their time together, as well as Lucas and Max doing the same, it’s usually just you and Steve hanging out.
You can’t help but notice the way he sits stiffly with his leg brushing yours, almost as if he’s afraid to move any closer.
You and Steve also become pretty close to your coworker, Robin. With the kids busy, Robin becomes a new member for movie nights.
skipping forward because this is getting ridiculously long
Working with Robin, Steve, Dustin, and Lucas’ little sister, Erica, the five of you infiltrate a secret Russian lab below Starcourt mall.
You, Robin, and Steve somehow find yourselves kidnapped and drugged by evil Russians.
After escaping, the three of you are still pretty out of it. You somehow end up in the movie theater, watching Back To The Future.
After the movie, you and Steve find yourselves sitting on the bathroom floor, laughing about something you can’t quite recall.
“Wait, wait, wait. Listen, I have something so important to tell you.” “What?” You’re both giggling, barely able to make it through a sentence without busting out in laughter.
“I am so in love with you.” “What?”
Everything becomes much less funny. Steve is looking at you with the most intense look you’ve ever seen in his eyes.
It’s deathly quiet for a moment as you two look at each other.
Suddenly, you both break out into more laughter, clutching your stomachs and heaving over.
“God, you’re such an idiot.” You manage to get out between gasps for air.
“No, no, I’m being so serious.” Steve is laughing so hard his face is bright red and you genuinely think he’s going to pass out.
As the laughter dies out, the two of you sit silently on the floor. Occasional giggles are passed between you before the your mind suddenly becomes clearer and the weight of his words hit you.
“Steve, you’re literally on drugs, you don’t mean that.” You try to brush it off but somehow that only makes him laugh harder. He grabs your hand, looking at you while attempting to be serious.
“I have to tell you, now, or I’ll never be able to tell you.” He explains, referring to his drugged up state.
“Steve…” He leans in, gently brushing his lips against yours as if he’s testing you. When you don’t pull away, he presses his lips more firmly against yours, smiling through the kiss.
At the end of the night, after everything is over, the Mind Flayer is gone, and both Hopper and Billy are dead, Steve meets you in the back of an ambulance.
Having already been checked and cleared by the EMTs himself, he cautiously takes a seat next to you as you’re getting your wounds cleaned. He grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers almost nervously. When you look at him, he’s already looking over at you, a small smile on his face. You gently squeeze his hand, smiling back at him.
That night, Steve takes you home and, like he did the previous year, offers to spend the night with you. This time, you accept his offer, leading him inside.
#steve harrington headcanon#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#stranger things#stranger things 4#joe keery#eddie munson headcanon#eddie stranger things#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#robin buckley imagine#robin buckley#nancy wheeler#dustin henderson#steve harrington x henderson!reader#steve harrington x reader#henderson#harrington#jonathan byers#billy hargrove#stranger things imagine#millie bobby brown#finn wolfhard#mike wheeler#byler#will byers#lucas sinclair#max mayfield#jim hopper#joyce byers
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breed: just a little guy
#steve harrington#harrington#stranger things#steddie#tagging steddie because i drew his butt with eddie in mind#stranger things 4#my art
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Part two of THIS
BABIES!! I really wanted to see them meet again q(≧▽≦q) and now with some extra guests!
Datatale belongs to @ask-dcf
Alice and Harrington belong to @theyoshimister
Underwizard belongs to me
#scheduled post#doodle dump#my art#undertale#undertale au#utmv#datatale#frisk#data!frisk#chara#data!chara#charisk#frisk x chara#data frisk x chara#flowey#data!flowey#alice#harrington#underwizard#uw!frisk#uw!chara#uw!flowey#uw!asriel#I love them all so dang much aaah!#Funfact: I used to ship Charisk in my AU too#I still like it but I think to leave it up to interpretation >:3#Still figuring out how to draw Bunny's ears oof#I forgot to draw them in the last part
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The Fourth Day of Kinkmas: Virginity | Steve Harrington
Warnings: cursing, smut, virginity, oral sex, mentions of sex, some fluff
Pairings: Steve Harrington x Female Reader
Summary: In which Steve and Y/N have their first time together
Author's Note: I'd just like to put out there that, the first part of this fic shows that Y/N feels kinda shameful about being a virgin but seriously.. there is nothing to feel ashamed or embarrassed about when it comes to being inexperienced. Everyone is ready at different times, some sooner than others but it's okay not to be ready right away 💗
12 Days of Kinkmas Masterlist
© Maybanks-Luver 2023, please do not steal, copy, modify, repost, or translate my work.
You were making out with your boyfriend Steve at his place. You were planning on staying the night with him since it was the weekend. You had stayed at your boyfriend's house many times but, this was the first time that your kissing had got this intense and heated. You weren't really sure what to do with yourself since you had never really done anything like this before. Steve knew that you were a little inexperienced but, he doesn't know it to it's full extent.
As the two of you were making out, you pulled away from him before looking away. "I- what's wrong, baby?" Steve asked with a small frown. He could always tell when something was bothering you. "Well it's just.." you sighed before speaking again, "I mean I am unexperienced." You said, sounding almost ashamed. "Well I already knew that you were babe." He said as he tilted his head, trying to figure out what the real thing upsetting you was.
"Yeah you know only a little of the truth though." You said. "What are you talking about?" He asked. "Well..." you felt embarrassed to tell him but you knew that you had to eventually. "It's just.. I'm still a virgin." You said quietly. Steve sat there for a moment in silence which just worried you more. You weren't sure what type of reaction he would have to you telling him this information. He was already super experienced with pretty much all things sexual. You were just scared that if he knew that you were a virgin that that may turn him off of you for good.
"Are you mad?" You finally asked, trying to break the awkward silence. Steve looked over at you with a confused look on his face. "Mad? Why would be mad, baby?" He asked. "Well.. because I'm not a virgin and.. I never told you until now." You said quietly. "Oh sweetheart.." He said with a frown as he took your hands in his own. "Baby that would never upset me. It's completely okay that you're still a virgin and I'd never push you to have sex with me if you weren't ready for it." He said softly. "But you're so experienced and I'm not. I don't even have a shred of experience when it comes to anything sexual other than making out." You said with a frown.
"Well that's okay though. Everyone starts out inexperienced, babe." He said. "And it's totally up to you when you decide to have sex and who you decide to have it with. And if you want to not do it earlier on and wait then that is totally your choice." He said. "Everyone's different baby but, you should never ever be ashamed of yourself because you're a virgin or because you're inexperienced because, it's okay." He said with a small smile. "Well about the being ready part." You said before looking up at him. "I am ready to have sex.. I know I can trust you and I know that you're the one I have been saving myself for." You said.
"Wait, are you sure baby?" He asked. "Because really, it's okay if you aren't ready. You don't need to have sex with me just to make me happy." He said as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. "No I'm not just saying it, Steve. I really am ready. I know I am." You said with a smile. "I want to do this with you.." You said softly. He nodded before leaning in and softly kissing you again. The kiss started off gentle and loving but quickly turned into passion and hunger. You tangled your fingers in his brown locks as the two of you made out passionately. Steve broke the kiss so he could stand up before scooping you up into his arms causing you to giggle.
He took you upstairs to his bedroom before laying you down on his bed gently. He began to kiss you again before kissing down your neck, leaving hickies all over your soft skin. As he kissed down your body, he pulled off all your clothes until you were completely naked. He stood up at the end of the bed so he could admire you. "God, you're so gorgeous laying out on my bed like this." He said as he bit his lip. He spread your legs apart so he could get a look at your pussy. You sat up on your elbows watching him, both nervous and eager to see what he would do next.
He got onto the bed and settled his head between your legs before licking a strip up your folds. You gasped and sighed, rested your head back on the soft pillow behind you. He licked up your folds once more before spreading them. Steve looked up at you before diving in, licking and sucking at your clit. You moaned out as he ate you out like he was a starved man. "I- fuck baby.." You moaned as Steve continued to eat you out. As he was eating you out, you felt a knot starting to tighten in your stomach. And before you knew it you felt a wave of pleasure wash over you causing your legs to tremble.
"I- Steve!" You moaned out his name as you came on his tongue. Steve pulled back with a smirk. "Fuck baby, you're so hot.. I can't wait until I get you on my cock." He smirked devilishly. "What are you waiting for." You said as you looked up at him, biting your lip. "Oh baby, I'm gonna have so much fun with you tonight.
Author's note: tysm for reading!
#stranger things#st#steve harrington#s. harrington#steveharrington#steve#harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x female reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x f!reader#steve harrington x oc#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#smut#stranger things smut#st smut#steve smut#steve harrington smut#tw#tw smut#joe keery#joseph keery#j. keery#joe keery smut#joe keery x reader#joe keey x female reader#12 days of kinkmas#12 days of kinkmas 2023#kinkmas
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may the best man win (s.h.)
masterlist
send in requests for my 1.3k sleepover!
requested by: @hauntedheathcliff (thank u!)
mixtape: menswear by the 1975
pairing: best friend to lover! steve harrington x reader
“Where is she?” Steve’s words escaped his lips, tinged with a breathless panic as he burst into the room. His chest heaved in his pressed button-down, brown hair windswept from his frantic run over.
Robin lifted her hand to her lips, fingers peeking out from the sleeve of her dad’s oversized suit jacket. She chewed anxiously on her thumb nail, nodding toward a bathroom stall from her perch on the sinks, eyebrows knitted together tightly.
The heels of Steve’s dress shoes, the leather shiny with black polish, clicked quietly across the marble floor of the bathroom as he made his way toward the stall.
“(Y/N)?” He knocked on the closed stall door, gently. Your name tumbled off his tongue, familiar and sweet. In your distraught state, your whole body buzzing with worry, you felt a tinge of relief at your best friend’s arrival.
You couldn’t respond, voice weak with exhaustion, but he listened for you as he heard you quietly wretch. He peered down, the skirt of your gown fanning out all around you as you knelt on the floor, layers of white tulle flooding out from beneath the gaps of the stall.
From behind the door, you could hear the way his voice rumbled, deep in his chest, as he whispered to Robin. She hopped off the sink counter, leaving you two alone.
Steve sunk to the floor, the tile cold on his legs even through his suit. He knocked, quietly.
“Honey, you okay? They said you were asking for me.”
You let out a weak snivel. He frowned, pressing his forehead against the door as his brow furrowed. Years and years of friendship, and seeing you upset still stung.
“Can you open the door for me, please?” He coaxed.
You reached a shaky hand up, unlocking the door.
He pulled it open, sliding into the cramped stall next to you. The skirts of your wedding dress swamped the space, rustling as Steve pressed his back against the wall, looking at you intently. You mirrored him, sitting across from him with your back against the opposite wall. You kept your head down, studying your hands, picking at your nails as they remained folded in your lap.
“What’s wrong?” He asked, the genuine concern in his voice causing your emotions to bubble up again, the overwhelming, sick feeling flooding your senses.
“I-” You hiccuped, barely able to get the word out before you spun around, pushing yourself up onto your knees as you wretched into the toilet bowl. Steve jumped up, pushing back your hair, the once perfectly styled locks now dishevelled.
“Let it out.” He cooed, his large, warm hand running up and down the expanse of your spine.
He got you settled back down on the floor by the toilet again. He pulled out his pocket square, taking his chin in your hands to hold your face toward him. Your breath stuttered as you inhaled shakily, blinking away tears as he used the silky material to, to clean up your running eye makeup, the fabric to ghosting the corner of your lips as he dabbed at your smudged lipstick.
“I can’t marry him.” You admitted through a gasping breath. “You gotta tell everyone the wedding’s off. I can’t marry Frank.”
You sunk into his touch as he ran a thumb across your cheek.
He ignored that exhilarating, sick excitement that ran through his body. He fought back the urge to scream, to rejoice, to beg and plead: Don’t marry Frank. Please, please, please don’t marry Frank.
He scolded himself. You had begged Frank for ages to let Steve be your best man in place of having a maid of honour. He couldn’t take advantage of you when you needed him the most, telling you not to marry your fiance just because Steve happened to be madly in love with you.
He couldn’t. He couldn't, even though a little part of him died when he first saw the two of you together, wishing it was his hand you were holding when you and Frank began dating two years ago. Even though hearing the news that Frank had proposed to you crushed all the air out of him. Even though he wished you were marrying him, instead.
“Of course you can. It’s just cold feet, that’s all. You’ll see, as soon as you get up there-”
“No.” You interrupted. “I can’t. I can’t marry him.” You sniffed, your voice small but determined. You blinked, before digging the heels of your palms into your reddened eyes, taking in a huge breath to steady yourself.
“I don’t love him.” You whispered, voice faltering.
“But… of course you do, honey, you’re just-”
“No.” You shook your head, swallowing thickly. “I don’t. I know I don’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I…” You gulped, eyebrow furrowing. “I realise now that… you know, we were so young, when we started dating- I mean, we’re still, so young and… as awful as it sounds…” Your voice cracked, the words threatening to fall off your tongue.
“I think I tricked myself into believing I loved him, into thinking it was okay to get into all of this, because I didn’t want to think of the truth.” Your gaze met Steve’s, and at that moment, he wanted to hold you, tell you it would all be fine, kiss you and take you away from all this.
His fingers flexed at his sides. He tucked them into his pocket.
“The truth is that I was in love with someone who didn’t love me back.” You murmured. A stray lock of hair fell over Steve’s eyes, and you wanted to reach out and brush it away. You wanted to touch his face.
Your fingers flexed at your sides. You balled your hand into a fist.
“Come here.” He whispered, breaking the silence that fell between you.
You turned around, leaning against him.
Slowly, your breath steadied, falling in time with the rise and fall of his chest against your back. His arm hung loosely around your waist, the other reaching up to stroke the hair away from your face.
“You look so beautiful.” He sighed, and you could hardly believe him, your hair and makeup a mess and wearing your ridiculous wedding gown. “You’ve always been beautiful.” He said it like he meant it, like he believed in it like nothing else.
“It’s all gonna be okay.” He reassured. “You’re gonna get up there, and realise it was all just nerves. And you’re gonna forget all about that guy who didn’t love you back. Because…”
You lifted your gaze to meet his.
“Anyone who wouldn’t love you is a total idiot.” He muttered, the rough tips of his fingers ghosting your hair.
You sighed, taking a few more breaths to calm yourself.
You wished you could stay this way forever, just you and him. No worries about the wedding, or about what would happen after, if you and Steve would drift away from each other, the rift caused by married life, by the world, growing too big for the two of you to handle. If you could do anything in the world, you’d always be with him. No doubt about it.
That scared you.
He helped you to your feet, holding your face in his hands.
He gave you that million wattage smile. It broke your heart.
“C’mon, beautiful. Frank’s waiting.”
Steve stood next to the altar, fidgeting in his suit as he waited for you to appear.
Finally, the doors blew open at the end of the aisle. The air was knocked out of him, escaping him as soon as he saw you.
You walked, slowly, down the aisle, and through the veil that hung between the two of you, he swore he could see you looking at him through the translucent lace, lips upturned.
He felt his mouth lift up, and uncontrollably, he was smiling, like an idiot.
He wanted to reach out and lift the veil himself. He wanted to see your face again, that smile. He wanted to kiss you.
Then, you reached the end of the aisle, turning to Frank instead of him.
Steve shoved aside the feeling of aching misery spreading through his body.
The ceremony dragged on, every declaration of love and eternity just another blow to him. What use was love and eternity to him, if it wasn’t with you?
He felt his knuckles clench at his sides, the ridges of his hands growing white.
Then, you turned to look at him.
You glanced behind you, and for a second, you smiled at him. It filled his body with light.
“If anyone present should know of a reason why this couple should not be joined together in matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace.”
“Me.” Steve blurted out, the words escaping his lips before he even had time to process it.
The room fell deadly silent. Then, shocked gasps rose from the crowd, murmurs of confusion rippling through the audience of guests.
You turned to look at Steve, eyebrow furrowed.
“Me.” Steve repeated, clearing his throat. “I mean-” He screwed his eyes shut. “Um, I do. I mean, I object.”
“What the hell, man?” Frank hissed.
Steve looked at him. He never noticed it before, but they almost looked alike.
“I think I’ll say a couple of words, if you don’t mind.” Steve started off, fumbling awkwardly.
“I do mind.” Frank shot back quietly, voice shaking with rage, before turning back to the guests. “Save it for the best man’s speech, huh?” He chuckled awkwardly in an attempt to save his crumbling wedding ceremony, raising a few uncomfortable laughs from the guests.
Steve ignored him.
“(Y/N), I wanted you to know that I think I spent all this time doing anything and everything to distract myself from the truth.”
Your eyes sparkled as he echoed your words, a teary laugh leaving your lips.
“The truth is… I’ve been in love with my best friend for years. Madly, truly in love. It scared me, how much I did. I was scared before, but I’m not anymore. It took me a while,” He chuckled, gesturing to all the guests staring at him, your fiance’s hands gripping yours. “But I’m not afraid anymore. I can speak the truth now. I’m in love with you. I have been, all this time.” He paused, his big brown eyes glimmering. “I love you.”
You smiled.
“I love you too, Steve.”
“Okay. Okay! That’s it! I always knew there was something wrong with you, man, but I didn’t realise you were this fucked up.” Frank yelled, jabbing a finger at Steve. “You wanna go, man? Let’s go!” He cried out, pulling his tux jacket off. His muscles strained against his dress shirt as he put his fists up, charging at Steve.
He swung at Steve, narrowly avoiding him as he just ducked out of the way.
Frank tried again, but Steve fought back this time, taking a jab toward him.
It caught him in the jaw. Frank fell to the floor.
You looked at Steve as your fiance lay at your feet, breathing hard as you felt a warmth spread across your cheeks.
You stepped right over Frank, taking Steve’s hand and running out of the building.
“Sorry.” Steve mouthed at his plus-one, the girl glaring at him as the two of you ran down the aisle, hand in hand, leaving your fiance passed out at the altar. You tossed your bouquet at her, watching as she caught it, sullen.
Your dress swished behind you as the outraged noises from the guests rose around you, but you couldn’t hear them over the sound of you and Steve screaming with laughter.
Hand in hand, you ran, not caring where you were going, as long as you were together.
The two of you made it out onto the street, passer-by glancing at the runaway bride, making her daring escape with the best man, awash in sunlight and glowing with happiness.
Steve raised his arm, trying to hail a taxi. You yanked him back.
“I don’t have enough money for a cab! Do you?”
He reached into his pants pocket, producing his wallet. Practically empty. He rummaged around in his pockets, finding nothing but a bit of loose change.
“For a moment there, I forgot I was broke.” He sighed.
You laughed, glancing around before dragging him toward the bus stop, waving at the driver of the bus idling in front of it, black smoke rising from its tailpipe as the dingy, rusty old bus shuddered.
You walked on, the two of you a vision in the drab old bus, your magnificent dress swirling around you as you walked toward the backseat, Steve using what little money he had to pay for your fare before settling down next to you.
He smiled at you. The sun was setting, a golden light settling down over Hawkins. It streamed in through the windows, settling you two alight. A glow bursted from the two of you. His eyes, warm and brown in the sunlight, shone, his tan skin luminous.
“I can’t stop smiling.” He whispered.
“Then don’t.” You responded, lacing your fingers with his.
He leaned in to kiss you, his plush lips grazing yours, and you smiled into it uncontrollably, melting into his touch. You felt a warmness spread through your chest.
“Our wedding is gonna be so much better than this one.” You smiled.
#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x you#steve harrington#steve stranger things#harrington#stranger things 4#st4#steve harrington fic#steve Harrington x reader#steve harrington imagines#steve harrington angst#steve harrington fluff#best friend!steve#stranger things fanfic#stranger things imagines#stranger things headcanons#stranger things fic#stranger things#stranger things season 4#robin buckley#eddie munson
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A Stranger Valentine:
Steve Harrington One-Shot
A/N: Greetings! So here it is! After a very long hiatus, I'm finally back with a little one-shot for Steve Harrington. It is my first in a while and I hope it won't be my last. I'm a little nervous about it, but I might as well just stop overthinking and go for it. And oddly enough, this just so happens to be my blog's 7th anniversary! I hope you like it!
Happy Valentine's Day!
Description: Steve puts himself out there on Valentine's Day. (3292 words)
WARNINGS: FLUFF!
Love interest: Reader
It was a nice, breezy, and all together, regular day in Hawkins. A somewhat busy Monday for some businesses, including the Family Video. Customers had come and gone. The shelves ripped apart; most rentals gone by the evening. Surprisingly, things had died down for a bit, giving Steve and Robin a breath. The bell at the door rang as a couple of customers exited, giving way to Dustin.
“Hey, Robin!” He greeted.
“Hey, nerd.”
“I don’t take that as insult, no matter how many times you call me it,” Dustin said.
Steve then appeared from the back room. “Okay Robin, make a note, we are out of When Harry Met Sally, Flashdance, Splash, Footloose, Sixteen Candles, and Back to the Future. I just went over some inventory and those are the ones most asked for and the ones we are out of for now.” He glanced over the counter. “Sup, Henderson?”
“Do you have The NeverEnding Story?”
“On a school night?” Steve said as he stood behind the counter. He reached for the bin of returned movies while he looked at his young friend.
“Yeah, Susie and I are gonna watch it together on Valentine’s Day while we talk on the phone.”
“You are guys are so weird,” Robin said.
“Those are your Valentine’s Day plans?” Steve asked.
“Well, there really isn’t much to do at a distance. Plus, it doesn’t help that Valentine’s Day is on a Wednesday this year.”
“Right. Also, Valentine’s Day is two days away, why are you asking about the movie today?”
“The NeverEnding Story is a beloved film. It could just as easily be on your little list of out-of-stock movies.”
“Doubtful,” Robin said.
Out of nowhere, a VHS box fell to the ground. The sound earned the attention of the trio by the counter. Then, a hand was raised from behind one of the shelves.
“Sorry, that was my bad.” Someone’s voice rang. Their head poked up as well.
“You’re good,” Robin responded.
Steve failed to tear his eyes away. He watched as the girl continued to scan the films, while she enjoyed the music that played on her Walkman. Steve was pulled out of his trance by Dustin who snapped his fingers in his face.
“Hellooooo!?”
“What? What?”
Dustin looked between the shelves and Steve. “You really shouldn’t stare, Steve. It’s rude.”
“I often tell him,” Robin said as she flipped through the pages of a magazine she usually hid behind the counter.
“I wasn’t staring,” Steve said.
“Oh, you were just ogling at Y/N,” Dustin said.
Steve’s head snapped towards Dustin. “You know her?”
“Uh, yeah, most people do.”
“Huh? I could have sworn she just moved here.”
“No, she moved back,” Robin added.
“What you know them too?”
“Duh, dingus.”
“How do you both know her, and I don’t?”
“Probably because you were too busy being King Steve.”
“Ugh!”
“Yup! Y/N was in your year,” Dustin said.
“How do you know anything about her?”
“She babysat Mike and I a couple of times.”
“And you know her how, Robin?”
“She tutored me in algebra.”
Suddenly, Y/N made her way over to the counter with a couple of films in hand, cutting the trio’s conversation short.
“Okay, I think that’s enough browsing for the day,” she said as she removed her headphones.
“Hey, Y/N!” Dustin smiled.
“Dustin Henderson? Look at you! You’ve gotten taller!”
“And you’ve stayed the same.”
“Well, I think I hit my growth spurt too early and ran out quickly.”
“It happens.”
“Hi, Robin!” She glanced at Steve. “Hi, Steve.”
“Hey, Y/N!”
“Hi,” Steve said shyly.
Robin moved to the computer on the counter while Y/N handed the movies to her.
“How long will you be renting these for?”
“Um, you can put me down for two nights. Seems like you guys have been really busy, today.”
“Yeah, it’s been oddly hectic for Valentine’s Day week.”
“Oh, that’s right! Wednesday… is that why I couldn’t find a copy of Sixteen Candles?”
“Oh?” Robin looked at Steve. “No, Sixteen Candles?”
Steve shot Robin a disappointed look, realizing she never listened to him earlier. “Yeah, sorry. We’re all out of that one…” Steve told Y/N.
“No, worries. I just like to rewatch it every now and again.”
“Sorry,” Steve said.
“It’s okay.”
“Okay, you are set to go,” Robin said as she slid the movies to Y/N.
“Thanks. Well, I’ll see you guys around. Bye!” She locked eyes with Steve before she headed towards the door.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you this off your game since our Scoops Ahoy days, dingus.”
“Yeah, Steve, you were just there. Staring. Again!”
“What did you guys expect me to do with you two here?”
“Uh, act normal,” Robin said.
“I did act normal. She wasn’t really interested.”
“Maybe cause you were avoiding them.”
“I wasn’t avoiding them. They clearly aren’t interested.”
“I believe you just haven’t been trying hard enough,” Dustin said.
“I second that,” Robin said.
“When’s the last time you went on a date?”
“Ha!” Robin exclaimed.
“What? It hasn’t been that long.”
“It’s been a while. Actually, I don’t think you’ve dated anyone in the time that I’ve known you.”
“Come on! It has not been long.”
“Long enough.”
“Whether that’s the case or not, maybe you should just try. Why don’t you ask them out?” Dustin said.
“Because he doesn’t know how. He’s done nothing but stare at her each time she’s been in here.”
“I’m right here, Robin. Besides, I helped her the second time she came in.”
“You pointed to where the comedies were and practically ran away from her.”
“Fine, so I’m a little off my game. So what?”
“Maybe you just need to not think about it as much,” Dustin suggested.
“What do you mean?”
“Just ask her out. Let the words come out and don’t think about it too much or else you’ll psych yourself out.”
“Can’t believe I’m getting advice from Henderson.”
“Like that’ll work,” Robin commented.
“You’re not really helping,” Dustin said.
“Okay, how’s this for advice? Stop living in the past. You’re not the same Steve from high school, which means people don’t act the way they used to around you. The real world is different, and you are in it. So why don’t you just grow a pair and just ask her out! What’s the worst that can happen, that she says no? You’ve been rejected before, and you’ve lived. You’ll be just fine no matter the outcome.”
“Uh… okay, thanks.”
---
On Valentine’s Day, Family Video saw a lot of traffic from the moment it was opened. Girls came around in their little cliques and grabbed snacks to go with their choice of films like The Blue Lagoon, Endless Love, An Officer and a Gentleman, Flashdance, and more. These were also popular among the guys that strung along their girlfriends or the dates they had for the day.
Steve had finished shelving some of the returns before he made his way to the counter. Things had died for a bit, so he took the opportunity to stock some movies before more customers showed up. This would leave Robin with the inventory in the back. When he went to check on her, he found her lying back on a chair, a magazine covering her face.
“Of course,” he said.
The bell at the door rang, and Steve eyed the monitors on the desk in front of Robin. The footage showed Y/N, as she made her way to the counter. Steve felt his heart rate increase. He took a deep breath and exited the back room, immediately coming face to face with Y/N.
“Hey,” he greeted.
“Hi!” Y/N said as she fished some movies from her messenger bag. “I’ve come to return these.” She placed the films on the counter.
“Alrighty.” Steve reached for the films while he worked on the computer. He noticed two of the three titles: Cinderella and Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. Steve felt this was his time to make small talk. “Had yourself a Disney night?”
“Hmm?”
“A Disney night… Cinderella and Snow White?” He smiled nervously.
“Oh! Kinda. I had to babysit two little girls and as you can imagine they love princesses.” Y/N beamed.
“Right. And if you baby sit boys, what do you usually go for?”
“Easy. Star Wars. Or E.T. Dustin can testify to that.”
“Classic choices right there.” He saw the last title: Grease. “I’m guessing Grease is more of a personal choice.”
Y/N chuckled. “Yeah, you’re not wrong. I like to have one for myself for when the kids fall asleep.”
“Understandable. Uh, that’ll be four-twenty-five.”
As Y/N searched through her wallet for her money, Steve watched her for a moment. He took in her soft features and notice how delicate she looked. She pulled out a five-dollar bill and handed it to him. Steve charged the films and took out three quarters to give back.
“No movies for tonight?”
“Didn’t really have any in mind. Weirdly enough I got no calls to baby sit tonight. And I didn’t make plans so, right now I don’t know what the rest of the day holds.”
Robin’s words replayed in Steve’s mind. Grow a pair and just ask her. He thought. Now or never, Harrington.
“Listen, since you don’t have any plans for tonight, would you…” he cleared his throat and continued. “Would you like to go see a movie? With me? Tonight?”
“Oh… like on a date?” she asked.
“Uh, yeah—Only if you want…”
Y/N smiled at him. “What did you have in mind to go see?”
Steve swallowed. “There’s this new movie coming out… Pretty in Pink…”
“I’d love to.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You had me at movie and now I’m even more excited knowing it’s to see Pretty in Pink.”
Steve chuckled. “Great. That’s great. There’s a showing at eight. Can I pick you up at seven-thirty?”
“That sounds perfect.”
“Awesome, so I’ll see you tonight.”
“I’ll see you tonight, Steve.” With that Y/N exited the Family Video.
Once she was out of sight, Steve couldn’t help but fist bump the air. It had actually worked. He asked and she said yes. Steve turned around and jumped when he noticed Robin just stood there.
“Jesus!”
She had a smug look on her face. “Told you so, Harrington.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Thanks.”
---
Funnily enough, Steve had forgotten to ask Y/N where she lived. Luckily, Robin helped him figure it out. He arrived just as he had told her; seven thirty on the dot. He popped a breath mint in his mouth as he walked up to the door. He combed his fingers through his hair, adjusted the jacket he had on, and rang the doorbell.
A minute passed before the door swung open to reveal Y/N standing opposite of him. Steve eyed her for a second before he swallowed so hard the breath mint went straight to his stomach. He could have sworn he heard Dustin telling him to stop ogling at the girl.
He snapped out of his daze. “Hey.”
“Hi. You alright?” She asked.
“Me? Yeah. I’m good.”
She smiled.
“You look great, by the way. Uh, beautiful actually.” Steve noticed her cheeks grew warm.
“Thank you.”
“Are you ready to go? I’m not rushing you, though.”
“I’m ready.”
“Alrighty, let’s go.”
Steve moved aside as she stepped out and locked the door behind her. They walked together to his car, and Steve picked up his steps to beat her to the passenger side. He opened the door and closed it after she climbed in. Steve then marched over to the driver’s side. As soon as he got in, he started his car, and drove on to the movie theater. The ride started off a bit quiet with both parties rather nervous about the date, not that they’d confess anything to one another. Suddenly, Steve turned on the radio and the catchy beat of Daryl Hall and John Oats’ You Make My Dreams Come True, came through the speakers. Steve caught on to Y/N tapping her hands on her lap in tune to the song, and so he left it on that station. After that, the ride didn’t feel as long. Before they knew it, the song finished when they arrived.
Steve made sure to get the door for Y/N and together they strolled over to the ticket booth. Being a gentleman, he bought their tickets, and the pair made their way inside. Steve eyed the snacks counter and turned to Y/N at his side.
“Would you like any snacks?”
“Uh, only you do.”
“I could definitely go for some popcorn. We could share?”
“Okay.”
“If you want you can get us some seats while I get the snacks.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind going with you.”
“Yeah. Movie will start here in a bit so were gonna see plenty of people filing in and before you know it, the good seats will be gone.”
“Okay. I’ll see you inside.”
“Yeah.”
A few minutes later Y/N waved Steve over the minute she spotted him coming into the theater. Steve was hugging a bucket of popcorn while also holding a beverage on each hand. When he reached the seat next to her, Y/N stopped rubbing her hands on her upper arms and helped Steve with the drinks. She placed each one on the cup holders and Steve sat next to her. The lights dimmed and the screen slowly went on. Steve leaned a little closer to Y/N.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. It’s just a little colder than I expected, and I totally forgot my cardigan at home.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah, but it’s okay.”
“Here, hold this.” Steve handed her the popcorn and proceeded to remove his jacket. He then extended it to her. “Take it.”
“What? No, Steve. I couldn’t.”
“You can. Take it, please.”
“Steve…”
“Please.”
Y/N took the boy’s jacket. Steve wouldn’t say it out loud, but he loved how she looked in it, even in the dimmed theater. She warmed up immediately.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome. Popcorn?” He whispered back.
“Yes, please. Thanks.”
Steve handed his date the popcorn and kept a small handful. The film started and the pair got comfortable in their seats. At one point during the movie, their hands bumped into one another when reaching for the popcorn.
“Sorry,” Y/N whispered.
“It’s okay. Some good popcorn.”
Steve shook his head as he watched the movie, the words echoing in his head. Some good popcorn? Idiot.
Mid way through the film Y/N slightly leaned her shoulder into Steve’s armrest. Steve took as deep breath and enjoyed the closeness. They would remain like that until the end.
---
As the pair exited the theater along with the crowd, Y/N gushed to Steve about how much she enjoyed the movie.
“I thought it was pretty sweet. Thanks for bringing me.”
“You’re welcome.”
As they strolled on over to the car, Y/N got a little closer to Steve.
“Why did you bring me?”
“What?”
“Why did you bring me to see this movie tonight? On Valentine’s Day?”
Steve stopped in place. “Oh, I- uh, I thought it was pretty obvious.”
She stopped as well and gazed up at him. “What?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, that I… that I… like you.”
“That’s good. I like you too.” She grinned.
“You do?”
“I thought it was pretty obvious.”
Steve chuckled and nodded. He noticed a man at the street corner selling roses. Without saying a word, he started jogging towards the man. Y/N turned, and her eyes followed his figure.
“Steve?”
“One sec.”
She watched as Steve got a rose from the man and jogged right back to her.
Steve extended the rose towards her. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
She accepted it.
He continued. “I didn’t make a big deal of it because it’s only our first date and I didn’t want to freak you out.”
“I love it.”
They continued on back towards Steve’s car, not that far apart from one another. When they reached the car, Steve being a gentleman once again, opened the door for her to get in.
On their way back, there was a soft love song playing on the radio, which they both enjoyed in silence. According to the host, it had been requested by some lovesick caller. They pulled up slowly to Y/N’s home, and Steve turned off the engine. As they sauntered to her door, Steve realized he didn’t want the night to end. Sure, he had been a bundle of nerves the whole time, but even then, he enjoyed her company and thought her shyness was just adorable. When they reached the door Steve stayed on the second step, while she stood at the top. They were at eye level this way.
“Steve?” She said shyly.
“Yeah?”
“How come you didn’t ask me sooner?”
Steve took a deep breath. It was as if the date had only just begun again. “Honestly? I couldn’t muster the courage to ask you out.”
“What changed?”
“Robin gave me a harsh, but much needed pep talk.”
“And how did you decide on a movie?”
“It seemed like you love ‘em. I tried to hold Sixteen Candles for you cause you asked for it the other day. But then, I saw this movie had the same chick in it. So, I took a shot.”
“Molly Ringwald.”
“Huh?”
“The actress you’re talking about. It’s Molly Ringwald.”
“Right, yeah. That one.”
She smiled. “Well, I’m glad our first date was on Valentine’s Day. It will stand out from any future one’s.”
“Future one’s? You sayin’ you would go on a date with me again?” His heart was beating through his ears.
She played with the rose she held in her hand. “Only if you want to. I wasn’t sure if you’d ask again.”
“I do. I really, really do.”
“Then it’s a date.”
“Totally.”
The two stood under the moonlight for another minute, as if waiting for something else to happen. However, nothing did.
“Well, thanks again, Steve. I had a really great time.”
“Me too.”
“Goodnight, Steve.”
“Goodnight.”
Y/N smiled at the boy before her, one more time. She then turned to the door, unlocked it, and stepped inside.
“Bye.”
Steve waved softly at her and watched the door close. He stood there for a brief moment, kicking himself for not doing more to not bring the night to close so soon.
Suddenly, the door opened, and Y/N stepped in front of Steve in two quick steps. She placed a delicate hand on Steve’s right cheek, leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his.
Steve was stunned. His hands slightly hovered around her, before they came down to settle on her hips. He pulled her in a little tighter, relaxing into the kiss. He felt a warmth between them, as he savored her soft lips. He could still taste the movie theater popcorn.
After a moment, Y/N broke the kiss and took a step back. Steve’s eyes remained closed, and his hands lingered on her hips. He finally opened his eyes and gazed into hers.
“Wow.”
A giggle bubbled in her throat. She took another step back, but Steve couldn’t resist pulling her in by her hips and kissing her one more time. Steve broke the kiss on this occasion and saw as he had left her stunned this time around. As he gazed back at her, he watched as she began to take slow steps backwards into her home.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, Steve.”
She then closed the door and lied her back against it, with a hand hovering over her lips. Steve couldn’t see this. Which meant she didn’t see him when he raised his fists in triumph.
A/N: Thanks so much for reading! Don't be afraid to let me know what you think! If you are interested in another Steve Harrington One Shot, I wrote one a while back. Here is the link:
#fanfic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#stranger things imagine#stranger things reader insert#stranger things x reader#steve#harrington#stranger things#reader insert#reader imagine#reader x Steve harrington#fan fiction#fan fics#fan fic writing
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love as sweet as honey (and lover, i’m hungry)
a/n: u can read me for literal filth in this piece, i won’t even lie to u lmao. it’s disgustingly full of praise and petnames and steve’s biggest turn on is being told he’s loved <3 big ups to em (@familyvideostevie) for literally being the reason this got written at all & if u haven’t guessed by now, practically ever single idea i have is consulted by kenny <3 (@hawkinsindiana) also thank u steve stans for being my cheerleaders love u guys sm (@spideystevie @harringtonbf) & sanne too (@sanguineterrain) bcos talking w you helped sm <3
word count: 6.9k hehe
summary: One Sunday, filled with too many kisses to count and a sureness in your heart that you are entirely in love with Steve Harrington. You tell him him for the first time in a flurry of love and lust, tangled in his sheets. [established relationship + smut, praise, petnames, + first i love you + fem!reader] MINORS DNI this piece contains nsfw content and is intended for 18+ readers.
It was often a question on your mind: How does one know when they’re in love?
For you, it was as easy as a Sunday.
When you wake on this Sunday morning, it’s in Steve’s arms. You’re in his bed, intertwined beneath the sheets and warmed by more than just the sun that peeks through the gap in his curtains. The room glows golden. His warmth creeps under your skin and his love finds you even when he sleeps, still snoozing against the pillow when you drift into consciousness.
He’s beautiful. Soft brown curls that crumple against the pillow, long lashes that you know even the girls at Hawkins High were envious of, faint barely visible freckles that hide under his tan. He’s beautiful and he’s yours. It makes you giddy to even think that.
You wake him with a kiss. It’s gentle, soft lips against the dozen tiny white scars on his cheek. Steve hums, a low sound in his throat, and even that makes you smile.
“Steveeee,” you whisper, cheek pushing against the pillow as you grin, unable to stop yourself. Grins come so damn easy with him.
Steve makes another noise, high and sweet, and snuggles closer to the pillow. You shuffle closer and dot another kiss on his face, this one on his nose. It scrunches up at the contact and finally, he drags his eyes open. You can read nothing by adoration in them.
“Mm,” he hums again, then speaks in that delicious raspy morning voice that drives you crazy. You wonder if he knows just how much it affects you. “Good morning to you too.”
His arms tighten around you, inching you closer until you’re pressed against him. He uses the closeness to bury his face against yours, nosing along your neck and placing sweet pecks paired with content sighs. You’re bundled together, lovers in the morning sun.
It’s cut short far too soon. Steve gets whisked away to his Sunday shift at Family Video and leaving you pouting, with a kiss in the doorway. He looks soft, with his hair still messed up from bed and a handsome grin adorning his face.
You smooth down the collar of his shirt, a nice navy long sleeve, and let your hands linger. You almost consider telling him to skip work and follow you back up the stairs, eager to jump his bones then and there. The side-effect of getting to see him in the morning, voice low and eyes lovely. You give yourself a quiet pat on the back for your self-restraint when you hold the thought, at least til later.
“Wish I could spend all day with you,” Steve says wistfully, planting a quick kiss into your hair. He’s stalling leaving, knowing he’ll be late if he dawdles much longer; Steve never can bring himself to leave on time when you’re here. Not when you kiss him in the doorway like it’s a promise you’ll be there when he gets home.
You smile cheekily. “Well, someone’s gotta be the breadwinner of the family. That’s the whole reason I’m with you, no?”
You tease, raising your brows with a smirk and Steve snorts, hands tugging you closer.
It’s a reference to some absurdly jealous girl who’d been head over heels for Steve since first glance in the Hawkins High’s Halls. As a result, his relationship with you had been viewed merely as an obstacle to getting with the love of her life. She’d gone to his work one day to try her luck and leaned over the counter on one of his shifts, shirt unbuttoned to reveal her cleavage. Then she expressed her heartfelt concern with a coy whisper.
“Steve, I hate that I’m the one who has to break it to you,” She’d said, voice all sweet and breathy as she cast a look at you across the store where you’d been joking with Robin. Steve’s brows had scrunched in confusion, following her gaze, unsure where she was going with this.
“But I’ve heard... just through the grapevine, that she’s totally with you for the money.” She had shaken her head, like she was ashamed of you, and plastered on her most sympathetic look, doe-eyed and entirely insincere. Laid a hand on his arm with a pout. “I’m so sorry you had to find out from me.”
Steve had barely been able to cover his laugh with a cough, ducking his head to hide his grin. Is that so? He wanted to ask, just to see how far she’d take the lie — Steve knew for a fact what she said wasn’t true.
Because you’d been there the day Steve’s father had cut him off for good, with a slap on the wrist and a few too many mean words aimed in spots he knew would hurt. But you’d been there. You’d kissed him softly, said so what? so earnestly he knew you meant it, and then pulled up the newspaper to help him begin searching for jobs without missing a beat.
“Mmhm,” In the present, Steve chuckles, his hand stroking down your arm as he continues the joke. “Total gold-digger you are. Everyone knows it.”
And then he’d left with you another kiss and a promise he’d be by your house just after six, when he finished his shift, to take you out to the movies. You busy yourself in his absence and try not to count the hours. Per his word, Steve swings by just after six, greets you with a kiss, and the two of you cozy up in the back of the theater for a film.
From there, the tension builds, hanging around you like a soft-scented perfume that you can’t shake and only fuelled by Steve’s lingering touches — ones that let you know he’s more than on the same brainwave as you. A finger drawing a line up along your thigh, a kiss too hot on your neck, his hands getting too adventurous for public.
So, when you tumble through his front door together and it quietly snicks shut behind you, there’s a quiet moment where Steve turns back to you, brows raised. Tension stains the air between you.
He’s so fucking handsome, you think. You want to kiss him stupid.
His cheeky smile grows slowly as if he knows exactly what is on your mind.
His hand moves to cradle your jaw, his lips pressing against yours hotly and without meaning to you back up and let him press you against the door. Steve groans softly into the kiss, his other hand coming up to grasp at your side, grip just a bit too tight. It gives away how wound up he really is. You crave the feeling it gives you.
It’s a flurry, his lips kissing, kissing, kissing, til you’re breathless and his hand is higher, thumb tracing higher on your ribcage, skimming but never quite where you want him. Your stomach hums, excitement dancing and stirring up til you’re sure the taste of his lips is your favourite in the world.
After a minute of fervent kissing, Steve finally breaks away with a pant, but his lips don’t stop. They trail down, a soft kiss on your cheek and then one your jaw, your neck. Your head tips back instinctively, giving him easier access. He hums appreciatively.
“Y’so fuckin’ pretty,” He breathes against your skin, quiet enough you wonder if you were meant to hear it. He dives back in, nips at your skin, and you feel his lips pull into a devilish grin when you keen at the lovebite, a soft noise passing your lips. Fuck, he’s always so good at this.
There will be a hickey there tomorrow, no doubt about it. But when his lips reattach and he gives a gentle suck on the skin of your neck, followed by the soothing sensation of his tongue, you really can’t bring yourself to care. Want builds in your stomach.
Your hands struggle to pick a place to fixate on, flitting from his chest to up around his neck. You decide on the latter and wind your fingers in his hair. When he scrapes his teeth against your neck, a little mean, you retaliate with a tug on his hair.
A groan warbles out his throat, a delicious noise that makes your stomach a little warmer, thighs clenching a bit.
With his pause, you seize your chance and tug his head back again gently and Steve lets it fall back, exposing the column of his throat to you. You dip in, dragging your lips against it, and grin when Steve lets another groan tumble out, the vibrations reverberating into you where you lips touch his skin.
You pause, just to tease him. Don’t make a move. Your breath fans out across his neck and Steve tenses, a vein standing out in his neck, his patience waning within seconds.
“Don’t tease,” He warns, voice raspy, but he already sounds a bit wrecked.
Then his hands reignite, as if he’s just remembered them, and the one cupping your jaw moves downward, fleeting touches against your boob that have you gasping against his skin. He kneads the flesh and pinches your nipple, his other hand gripping your hip tight.
Your lips find his throat again, a soft kiss that turns hard and hot. You kiss up along the skin, pull his hair a little, and find that sweet spot under his ear that you know he loves.
Steve lets out another groan, his hand dropping so he can grip your hips on either side and he presses himself against you. His knee navigates between your thighs, an enticing pressure that makes you quiver for a moment — you suck harder on his neck in retaliation.
His groan turns into a borderline whine as he inhales a sharp breath. Against your thigh, his hardness presses into you, giving away just how riled up you’ve got him.
“Sweetheart,” he rasps, between a pant. “Y’gonna kill me.“
His fingers pulse tighter against your hips for a moment. He drops his head forward, his forehead touching yours. “Let me take you upstairs, yeah?”
You force yourself to drag yourself away from his kiss-bitten neck, a grin curling at your lips.
“Jeez, at least buy a girl dinner first.” You jest, just to make him laugh. Like he hadn’t bought you dinner and paid for the movie tickets as well, because he loves to spoil you.
He does laugh, with a huff and a poorly concealed smile. His hands slide from your hips, wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer to him.
Like you can sense it right before he says it, some stupidly cheesy line, one of your hands shoots out to cover his mouth.
“Whatever you’re thinking of saying,” You say, voice doused in amusement. “Don’t.”
Steve’s eyes dance in delight and before you predict it, the wetness of his tongue splays against your palm and you squeal, winding it back.
“Save that for later.” You tease, scrunching your nose as you exaggeratedly wipe your hand against his shirt. Steve doesn’t seem to care, his feet beginning to backtrack, and bundled in his arms, you go with him.
“I hope you mean now.” He murmurs playfully, voice dipping a bit lower, just to turn you on, and it sends a delightful shiver down your spine. You speed up your footsteps, the itch to get him between the sheets increasing.
He spins, releasing his grip but still grasping one of your hands in his. Your footsteps thunder up the stairs behind Steve, a giggle of anticipation slipping out and nipping at your heels that pushes you both faster. Steve nudges the door open hastily, and in a flurry, your back meets his sheets.
The warmth of his body is a weight you’ll always welcome, especially when Steve’s lips trail back along your throat. His teeth sink in, his mouth hot and wet, kisses that draw a thread of breathy noises from you. His hips cant into yours, a slow roll that has your thighs falling further apart automatically, the beginning of a whimper forming.
His hands tangle with the edge of your shirt, fingertips skirting under. They’re hot, burning against your skin.
He halts his kissing for just a moment, to pull back and pant, “Can I?”
You’re nodding before he can even get the question out. He tugs it up, the fabric sliding up and the smoothness of the motion leaves you a bit breathless. Steve stares down at you, eyes a mixture of affection and a hunger for more.
“You,” his large hands splay against your bare stomach, one moving up and sketching a line of heat where his fingertips linger. He leans close, lips scratching a kiss into your collarbone. Whispers his sweetness into your skin. “You’re so fucking beautiful. M’so lucky. How’d I get you all to myself, hm?”
The question makes your body hum, like a live wire, your knees tightening around his hips. Your hands clamber up around his neck and you tug his head up, claiming his lips with your own. You grind your hips back up against Steve, pleasure licking up your spine at the feeling of his hard cock dragging against you.
“Please,” you tease, words a bit breathy. “Everyone knows I’m with you for the money.”
Steve faux gasps, a laugh slipping through his facade at the inside joke you both share. He pulls back a bit, a pout on his pink lips, sheened with spit. He’s sitting up now, hair already a bit ruffled, handsome face housing a grin you love so dearly.
“Is that so?” He asks, brows raised.
You nod, a giggle tittering out before you stop it. Steve can’t help his smile, a quiet joy quelled beneath his lust over the fact you’re both so comfortable with each other. Laughing in bed, jokes in between the moans — Steve feels his stomach pool hotter, his love for you somehow still ever-growing.
“Take it back.” He demands, dropping down closer — his hands plant on either side of your head.
You squirm against the bed, trying to grind up against him again but it’s futile, he’s pulled back too far. Steve grins deviously. You arch your chest out and give Steve your best bedroom eyes, lids low and eyes dark.
“Take this off first,” You counter, hands tugging on the ends of his own shirt. Steve doesn’t need to be told twice.
It’s nearly as smooth as the removal of your shirt had been, his toned arms twisting to yank the fabric up — until it gets caught on his head. Steve makes a surprised noise and decides to tug it harder, his arms caught above his head, face hidden in the fabric. You laugh without meaning to.
Steve tugs again, managing to free himself but not before he topples sideways and disappears in the mass of his duvet with an oof!
You laugh loudly, covering it behind your hands, and roll in his direction, amusement dancing along your features. Steve’s head pops up, hair properly mussed now, and he grins. His hand clutches the meddlesome shirt and he flings it behind him mindlessly. It lands on his bedside table, hanging off the lamp.
“Where were we?” He asks, with a wiggle of his brows.
You shift up and swing your leg across his lap, seating yourself atop him and the shape of him makes you hiss pleasantly. Hands creeping up his bare chest, teasingly slow, you smile and it borders a smirk. “I was… taking it… back?”
Your voice is coy, tone doused in suggestiveness as your nails dig in and rake back down his chest. Beneath them, you can feel the rumble of his groan and he wastes no time in getting his hands back on you. His fingers find the waistband of your pants, dipping in and you suck in a breath instinctively.
He doesn’t even get to ask before you’re nodding, already anticipating his question. Steve smiles, guides you down and peppers kisses along your neck with a half-hearted hum— all the while, his other hand works open the button of your jeans.
“Steve,” you say breathily. You don’t know what you’re asking for, why you’re saying his name, just that it’s right.
“Y’good?” He asks, hands not stilling but not delving any further into the confines of your pants. When you nod, fervent and a bit too enthusiastic, his tone turns a bit heavier. “You gonna be good f’me, yeah?”
The whine that comes out of you in response takes you by surprise, body reacting with a filthy grind down against him. Steve doesn’t even get a chance to look smug, pleasure shuttering across his face as he tilts his head back.
“Fuck,” he says, hands tight on your hips. He guides them, pulling you harder down against himself and bucking up. He presses into you at the exact angle to have you keening, a happy sigh tumbling out your throat. “Fuck.” He huffs against, voice strained.
“Please do just that.” You say, a bit cheeky, grinding down harder just to make him moan properly — his head buries further in the pillow, eyes clenched closed for just a moment and the sound he makes travels right to your cunt.
Steve grapples to control himself, his chest beginning to heave. He manages to respond, voice still smooth in that way you’ve learned is his specific Harrington Charm.
“As you wish, honey.”
And god, if that doesn’t do something to you.
You can’t deny how much it turns you on when Steve manhandles you, a swift turn of your bodies where you find yourself back on your back with Steve hovering above you. His hands toy with the edge of your jeans, shimmying them down and discarding them somewhere behind you both.
You pant a bit, stomach stirring at how Steve gazes at you — the way his fists clench slightly give away his utter desire for you.
“You’re entirely overdressed.” you rasp, aiming for seductive but accidentally landing closer to whiny.
A glow raises in your cheeks, face hot, but Steve seems to revel in your words, his hands making hasty work of his belt. Unwittingly, your mouth waters a bit.
He sheds the extra layer in a moment, leaving him in just his boxers. You take a moment to recognise them, the Batman logo printed all across them. He clearly hasn’t meant for you to see them. For the second time tonight, you laugh before you can suppress it.
“Hey,” Steve jabs a finger at you, cheeks a bit pinker than they were a second ago. “It’s laundry day, okay?”
It’s a bit meek, said too feebly for you to actually believe. You raise your brows and wait for him to crack. It takes only another moment.
“Oh my god, fine,” he sighs dramatically, scrubbing his hands down his face. He drops them and then away at his sides, his face still warm. “I didn’t want to assume I’d get to fuck you tonight. They were at the top of the drawer, alright?”
Your heart does a little kick at that. Your wonderful, hot, never-presumptuous boyfriend that you fucking adore — it never manages to not astound you with the new way he turns you on.
“Then clearly,” you begin, wiggling closer. Your legs move up, circling around his hips and you cross your ankles at his tailbone — and urge him closer, feeling your own wetness stain against the final layer on your cunt.
Steve’s cock fits snugly between your folds and he gives a delicious grind, brows scrunching at the sensation. You fight to keep your voice steady as you continue, “You don’t know me that well.”
Steve huffs, some half growl escaping his lips. He sneaks his fingers under the band of your panties on either side of your hips and begins to pull down. They slide down your thighs, tantalizingly slow, and you’re unable to do anything but watch him. Steve’s gaze turns heavier and he licks his lips, teeth sinking in to hold back another noise of approval.
Then unexpectedly, the next words out of his mouth come out in a poor french accent. “Mon dieu,” Steve mutters, already smiling because he knows you’ll laugh at this.
You do, a startled laugh— especially when Steve wrangles your panties off your ankles and repeats his earlier motions of the night, sending them flying behind him carelessly.
“Steve, what are you—“
“Mademoiselle,” He interrupts, voice huskier than normal, completely on purpose.
“Oh my god,” you say in exasperation, yet the love leaks into the work, obvious and undeniable. Steve grins, thankfully dropping the voice and instead working his hands back up your body. They crawl beneath your torso, fingers searching, and make quick work of your bra. It comes away with his hands, straps scraping against your arms.
“Oh, sweetheart.” he sighs contently. Like they’ve got a mind of their own, his rough hands meet the soft skin of your boobs, kneading and thumbing at your nipples. Beneath his touch, they harden and pleasure thrums hot in your core when he twists them lightly, a gasp pushing your lips.
“Steve,” you whine hotly, pushing up against him.
“What d’ya need, honey?” He murmurs, dipping closer and restarting his kisses against your neck. He suckles gently, the barest hint of his teeth, lips soft and tongue hot.
“Y’gonna tell me what you need?” He hums, but even as he asks, one of his hands creeps downwards, landing on your thigh. He inches it closer, his thumb rubbing against the soft inside of your thigh.
The pillow rubs against your cheek as you nod fervently, turning to press your face into the pillow. Even after all this time with Steve, there’s no quelling the nerves in your stomach. But even with your enthusiastic nods, you know Steve needs your words.
“You.” The word is a bit whimpery. “Please, Stevie, s’you I need. You— your-” you cut yourself off, shyness creeping in and stealing your words.
Steve senses it, a quiet chuckle against your neck, and his fingers draw higher, til they ghost across your cunt. “Mm? Sweet girl gonna tell me when she wants?”
His words both make your face warm and your stomach flutter— he loves to goad your shyness, drinks in the reactions when you give he pushes it.
“Don’t make me say it, please.” You plead softly, resisting the urge to burrow further into the pillow.
Steve had told you early on when you’d started sleeping together in your relationship that he wanted nothing less than for you to hide away from him. I wanna see your face, okay? Wanna see everything from you. And hear all those pretty sounds you make, yeah?
A sound like the one you make now when he doesn’t make you wait, a pad of his thumb tracing down the folds of your cunt. His fingers dip in, soft touches that draw out a gasp as he trails them back up, beginning gentle circles against your clit. A fire in your belly that’s never quite extinguished burns a bit hotter. Your legs spread open further.
“Oh, honey,” he coos, devouring every reaction you give. “You’re doing so good. All worked already?”
His thumb rubs a bit rougher, circles faster, and his fingers stroke back down to your entrance. A moan punctuates the air, dragged out of your chest as one of his fingers slips inside, a stretch that has your back arching up.
“Please…” You sigh, words lost to your breathy moans as the finger pumps in and out, far too in tune with the circles on your clit for you to think straight. “So good, baby, you’re so good at this, fuck—“
Steve’s mouth moves south, his lips curling around your nipple and adding to the stream of stimulation. It’s overwhelming, the heat of his mouth and the curl of his fingers in your cunt— you can hear how turned on you are, your slick gushing against Steve’s fingers, and it only fuels the fire under your skin. You’re unbearably warm.
“That’s it,” The soft praise falls from Steve’s mouth, pausing his licking and sucking. “Good girl. So fucking wet for me, huh?”
The words inspire a lick of heat along your spine, the coil in your stomach tightening even more. Your breath staggers and you whine in response to his words. Shit, at this rate you could very well come undone before you even get him out of those stupid Batman boxers.
You wonder if this is Steve’s plan; it sure isn’t yours. You want him now.
“Anyone ever tell you,” you huff, a bit breathless. It takes effort to formulate sentences, the words coming out a bit whimpery. “What a motor-mouth you have in bed?”
Steve’s kisses work up to your collarbone, before drops one swollen kiss on your lips and smirks from above you, “In more ways than one.”
Something about the cockiness in his voice only adds to the anticipation building beneath your skin, your head lolling against the pillow as sweet noises escape your mouth.
Steve watches, eyes fixed on where his fingers sink lazily into you, curling in a way that makes your breath hitch loudly — it only serves to add to the growing heat in his stomach, blood rushing to his cock, which twitches at the sight. He groans to himself, head delirious with his desire.
His name is the only word you can seem to remember and as Steve’s fingers pump faster, precise curls, it leaves your mouth in a flurry that is all too telling about how close you are. He nearly feels bad to take it from you, nearly.
A disappointed whine draws out at the sudden removal of his fingers and Steve chuckles, a confident drawl in his voice. Your brows scrunch together in frustration, hips up twitching ever-so-slightly, searching for the lost stimulation even as your building pleasure tapers off. Asshole, you think, not meaning it even a little bit. You pant lightly.
Steve doesn’t waste a second, using his freed hands to begin to dig in his bedside table for a condom.
“Why are you laughing?” You grumble with a pout, chest still heaving. As his search proves fruitful, proven by a little aha! and the glisten of the condom wrapper, your hands reach up to cup his face and tug him back to you greedily. His hands stumble and plant on either side of you, letting you pull him in for a searing kiss. Steve hums into it with a grin.
“You’re like some sort of supervillain,” You mumble against his lips, a smile already curling at your mouth.“Laughing at my misery.”
Steve breaks the kiss, dropping his voice an octave to rumble out a spooky “Mwahaha,” that tickles laughter out of you in seconds. You thwack him lightly on the arm just so you can kiss away the pout he makes - because you know him that well.
The kiss is sweet and saturated with adoration, kisses that break off just to steal another. I love him, you think. I love him so completely. The wonderful thought melts and curls up in your mind, like a cat purring beside a fire, like it had always been there and you had only just noticed it.
It only feeds the anticipation that thrums through your body, your prior disappointment already long forgotten at the sight in front of you, at the delirious thought still spinning in your mind.
All the while, Steve’s hands shed off his boxers and make quick work of the condom. When he’s situated, his slender fingers curve around his leaking cock and give a light tug to relieve the building tension, eyes fluttering for a moment.
His other rests on your thigh, soothing subconscious touches; Steve never could keep his hands off you for long. His eyes trail up, committing each detail of you to memory.
Seeing you like this, Steve swears it never gets old; he could find sunsets in the curves of your skin and melodies in every moan. It’s vulnerable, exposing yourself to him and trusting him, all the same, to take care of you. And fuck, if he doesn’t love taking care of you.
But tonight, you have a particular moonstruck look on your face. Enough to make him pause, thumb skimming atop your thigh. “What?” He asks, with a hint of a chuckle.
Your cheeks grow a bit warmer and you fight the urge to hide your face in the pillow. Holding his gaze, his amber eyes which only hold endless patience and love, it’s not even a choice to tell him. The words bubble up inside, golden and sweet like you’d just taken a swig of pure ambrosia, and they spill out of you.
“S’just,” you begin, teeth scraping across your bottom lip. “I love you, Steve.”
Steve seems to freeze, his thumb halting its motions on your skin but there’s not even a moment for panic to trickle in — not when he flushes, cheeks rosy, and a pure expression of elation overtakes his features.
“You do?”
It’s nearly a whisper, uttered like he’d worried you’d take it back the moment he believed it. You’re already nodding by the time your words catch up with you, nervousness making them fall out without thought. “A lot. I love you a lot. So much. So many.”
A wet-sounding laugh splutters out of him as Steve’s face splits into a beam and he’s on you in an instant. He’s hovering above you, held up by his arms, but his face crowds in close — kiss after kiss finds its way onto your skin.
“So many, huh?” He teases before his voice drops to a murmur, words thick with emotion, and another weak wet laugh comes out. “I love you so many as well.”
You groan at his mocking and tuck your face in the crook of his neck, hiding away your giddy grin.
“Don’t be mean,” you whine but still revel in Steve’s unstoppable shower of kisses, warm and wet, one after another. “I got nervous.”
His lips work along your neck until you’re forced to tilt your head out of your hiding place and he captures your lips with his without hesitation. It feels like home, the curve of his mouth that you could recognise in the dark you’ve kissed it enough.
“Nervous?” He asks against your lips, the question halfway between disbelief and happiness. His eyes search yours desperately, pools of affection shining in the chocolate colour of them, giving away his complete elation. “My girl.”
Another kiss, molten hot affection that melts into your skin, from Steve. Your arms tangle over his shoulders, bring him closer, til his chest scratches against yours and you’re pulling him closer, closer, you can’t get him close enough. The craving in your stomach twists up, a reminder of what your love declaration had interrupted.
You wiggle your hips slightly, knees bending so you can slide your legs up and encircle his waist, hot skin against hot skin. You kiss him once more and nudge your nose against his gently, to halt his kisses.
“Yeah, yeah,” you tease, all too fond. “You love me, I love you. Y’still gonna fuck me, hm?”
Steve grins, “Ouch, way to make a guy think you said all that just for the sex.”
He raises a hand to cover his wounded heart for a moment, but it settles on your thigh, pushing it back an inch. His other hand curls back around his heavy cock, lining it up with your pulsing cunt that quivers in anticipation - Steve groans a bit at the heat he can already feel.
“I already told you,” you grin at the inside joke, words all breathy. Your thighs tighten around his waist impatiently. “It’s all for the money, baby.”
Steve scoffs with a smile that melts away as he steals another kiss. His hips shift forward, burying himself in you slowly with a moan that sends shivers down your spine, fingers clutching your hips tighter. A high keening noise pushes out of you as Steve rolls his hips gently, a slow fuck into your wet cunt.
“Shit,” he curses, movements still gentle as he pulls back and sinks into you, a tortuously slow pace that has your hips moving back against him. “Honey, fuck, y’so wet, so soft.”
“Stevie,” You whimper, hands grappling for a better grip on his broad shoulders. Like he can tell what you’re asking for instantly, one of his hands travels from your hip and clasps atop yours. He tugs it off and presses it against the sheets beside your head, his large fingers moving to link with yours instinctively.
You clutch at his hand, squeezing your intertwined hands tighter as Steve begins to build his pace, your moans egging him on. His face drops lower, warm breaths fanning over your face as his other hand tugs your hips back on his cock strongly. He strokes in, giving and giving to your mounting pleasure. Your skin burns warm; your chest arches up and the nails of your free hand sink into his back.
“So good for me, yeah?” He grunts, but it gives way to a groan as you clench around him. “My girl, my sweet girl, you feel fucking so good on my cock.”
God, him and his fucking motor-mouth. Your breath is heavy, cunt blazing warmth, and the coil in your stomach begins to burn again.
“Steve,” you mewl like it’s a praise.
“I know, I know,” He murmurs. His hand squeezes yours as he gives a particularly deep thrust, the head of his cock finding the spot inside you that makes you squirm. Makes the blood in your veins turns to pure confetti; a long moan drags out your lips and you bury it in his skin.
“Feels so good,” you cry softly, fingers flexing against his. Your hips are moving without thought, meeting his thrusts and Steve moans brokenly when your cunt flutters around him. “Y’feel so good, baby.” You praise him with a whimper.
Steve‘s arms keeping him up stutter a bit at your words, more of his weight pressing against you and you welcome it, legs tightening their grip.
“Y’so. Fucking. Good.” He punctuates each word with a thrust, fucking you harder and beginning to lose his rhythm as he chases his pleasure. “So pretty, my girl, hm? Could fuck this pretty pussy all day. Fuck, I— nothing feels as good as you, sweetheart, I swear, nothin’.”
Through your pleasurable haze, you manage to scrounge up a halfhearted joke, a soft smile peeking through on your face. “What’d I say? Such a motor-mouth.” The final word is swallowed up by your gasp.
Steve grins, not slowing his motions in the slightest. He looks fucking beautiful like this; his hair disheveled and wild, cheeks rosy, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow.
“You love it,” He bites back gleefully — he dips his head to scrape a kiss along your neck, up your jaw. You whine as he rolls his hips into you expertly, each thrust managing to steal your breath and make your stomach grow hotter. The beginnings of your orgasm trickle in.
“I do,” you agree, fond and voice sticky with bliss. “I love you.”
Steve’s cock twitches inside you, paired with a soft moan that Steve buries into your neck. His thrusts speed up, chasing desperately as he whines, the noise pathetic and whimpery, and he clutches your hand tighter.
“Fuck, I love you too.” He says, a sloppy kiss granted on your neck, then he laughs weakly. “Please tell me you’re close too.”
“I am,” you gasp, head nodding and eyes scrunching closed as the buzz of heat swells inside you, thighs twitching and clenching around him tighter. “I am, baby, please.”
“C’mon honey,” he urges with a pant, voice strained and face wrecked, contorted in his pleasure. His free hand shifts up, pushing back your hair so he can see your face and his nose nuzzles against yours. “I know you can do it. Y’gonna cum for me? Be a good girl and cum on my cock, yeah?”
His voice turns cooing like he knows exactly what it’ll do to you to hear him beg. “C’mon, be good for me. Cum for me, honey, please,”
You tense up as his words hook into the coil in your stomach and tug, unraveling it and you with a soft cry. Legs gripping him tighter, you arch and writhe as the ache in your cunt pulses so deliciously, pleasure flooding every nerve — Steve fucks into the tightness, low whines in this throat as he chases his own orgasm.
“Say it,” he rasps, hips snapping fast and milking every second of your bliss, dragging it out as you clench around him. “Please, honey, wanna hear it.”
He says it so low, you nearly don’t hear it but you know exactly what he means. Your fingers clutch at his tighter, your intertwined hands keeping you connected and you nod, breathless, and tell him exactly what he wants to hear.
“I love you, Steve. Love you, ah, love you so much. Want you to cum for me, please,”
He falls apart, breath stuttering as he releases a desperate moan which dissolves into a kiss, soft lips scraping yours. His hips move a bit slower, jerky motions, as he clenches your hand tightly and whispers all his ardent love onto you, a dozen i love you’s between a thousand kisses.
His forehead presses against your forehead and you revel in the final zings of pleasure that rush up your spine as he slows his thrusts.
Your free hand drifts off his shoulder, soothing through his hair as all motion slows to a stop, Steve’s breath warming your shoulder. He drops his weight a bit, energy spent, and squishes against you and you make a noise somewhere between a squeal and a laugh.
“Y’good?” You ask, fingers still stroking through his hair. Wordlessly, Steve nods, chest still heaving but you can spot the gorgeous grin that graces his face, eyes closed.
Basking in the warmth of your love, you stay interwoven together. You’re warm but not just from the hot press of his body against yours; no, you gleam from the inside, pure glittering light because you love him.
You break the moment, the glow hazing out to tiredness and you free your hand from his hair to pat his shoulder softly.
“Okay, gross, you’re sweaty, get off me.”
Steve laughs, even as he peels himself off you, biceps tensing as he props himself up. “Yeah, ‘cos I just rocked your world.”
A laugh bursts out of you, though you don’t deny his words. Steve eases himself out of you gently and the stimulation makes you gasp lightly, lashes fluttering. You slump into the bed, feeling slightly melted as Steve deals with the condom and you’re fairly convinced you could just drift off in a moment. Steve doesn’t let you.
A poke on your arm. Your eyes peek open, seeing your boyfriend back in his silly little Batman boxers and a smile pulls on your lips. “Go pee.” He says.
You groan, eyes sliding shut again and he pokes you again, a jab at your shoulder.
“Go pee,” He insists, shuffling off the bed to stand up. When you make no motion to move, his hands hook around your knees and he tugs. You slide forward with a yelp and Steve grins when you frown but relent, getting to your feet. Your legs wobble for just a moment, a tad unsteady, and it only feeds Steve’s shit-eating grin.
“Shut up,” you warn, without any real heat. Steve raises his hands, not saying a word, though his chuffed expression says enough. He holds out one of his shirts — old and softened, it’s one of his old swim-team ones — and you slip into it easily. The trip to the bathroom is quick, already eager to be bundled back up in his arms and you nearly skip back to his room.
He’s in bed when you push the door open, covers pulled back, and waiting for you to join him. The slight smile on his face blooms into a grin that he pairs with grabby hands in your direction. You don’t deny him for even a moment, feet dancing across the carpet to clamber in beside him.
His arms, strong and sure, pull you against his chest and you hum contently with a smile, settling against him comfortably. Steve tugs up the duvet to cover you both. Cheek against his chest, you can hear the thump of his heartbeat easily and it eases some part of your soul, like a finger soothing down invisible hackles that raise whenever you’re apart from him.
“Can you say it again?”
He mumbles the question against your hairline where his lips rest and it turns your heart inside out, both pained and pleased that he wants to hear it as much as you want to say it.
“I love you, Steve Harrington.” You say without faltering, nuzzling closer to him. You drop one kiss on his chest, above his heart, and grin. “You totally rock my world.”
Where you expect some dramatized groan, Steve only laughs, the sound light and easy. His arms tighten around you, his lips gifting another sweet kiss atop your head. “Yeah, you too, sweet girl.”
And it makes you love him all the more.
(dis is my first smut soOOoOOoo pls do indeed come tell me how i did)
#did i slay this? mayhaps 😎#considering everything in this appeals solely to me#like i took 'write for urself' and RAN with it with this LMAO#hopefully....HOPEFULLY this hits the mark with some of you guys too#it truly is the most vanilla of sex <3 but rlly i just wanna fuck him and tell him i love him#true sap over here :)#if u think this has too many jokes in it consider this: don't care#i genuinely think that if u can joke around in bed then u are 10x more intimate#LAUGHTER IS LOVE BABEY!!!#god he makes me insane#ruby writes steve#steve harrington#steve#harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve x reader#steve harrington fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington smut#omg first time using that tag <-- who am i#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things#stranger things imagine#stranger things fic#whew this was#A CHALLENGE
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mutual longing / eddie munson, steve harrington
masterlist
rated: m (18+, minors DNI)
one shot
cw: curing, threesome, daddy and master kink, hickies, fingering, oral (m&f), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, name calling (whore, slut), aftercare
both boys are fighting over you when you bring up the idea, why not both?
(not proofread, also i'm super sorry if it's awkward for some reason it's hard to write steve smut for me)
—
the dim lighting casted seductive shadows across your body as you danced to the music. steve harrington was dancing behind you, hands splayed over your hips as he pulled your ass against him. he made it no secret that he wanted you tonight, but you hadn’t yet decided if he was the one you’d go for.
you let your head fall back against his shoulder, looking up at him with a sultry smile. steve smiles back at you before dipping his head into the crook of your neck and leaving soft, sweet kisses. you hum in delight, running your fingers through his perfectly styled hair. “coconut?” steve asks, pulling from your neck to look up at you.
“mhm,” you hum proudly, tugging on his hair. he stifles a groan, closing his eyes. when he opens them, he opens his mouth to say something but you don’t let him. “i'm gonna go get a drink, i’ll be back,” you say, turning to face him and slide your hands down his chest. you give him a small giggle before turning and heading towards the kitchen.
you push through the sweaty bodies, mind reeling with thoughts of what (or who) you should do tonight. finally, you break from the crowd, stumbling into the kitchen. you have a chance to breathe before walking to the assortment of alcohol. as you make your way, you spy your favorite metalhead in the corner chatting with a few friends. that was your other option for tonight.
after grabbing another mixed drink, you decide to take a detour to steve. “munson,” you say as you approach, eyeing him up.
eddie’s eyes snap to you and you can practically see them light up. “henderson, c’mere,” he smirks, holding out his hand. you place yours in his before he raises them. “alright, now give me a spin,” he instructs and you do so, laughing into your cup. “looking extra good tonight, y/n. that all for me?” he teases, pulling you closer.
you stop yourself from smashing into him by bracing yourself on his chest with the hand he had held. his now travels down to your waist, not so subtly digging his fingers into the flesh. “it might’ve been, but i didn’t exactly see you being here,” you say, cocking your head to the side.
eddie shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “felt like doing something unusual. maybe i was just hoping to run into you,” he flirted, causing your ears to heat up.
“not like you know where i live or anything,” you respond.
eddie rolls his eyes at you. “i don’t know how much your brother would appreciate me showing up and asking for his sister because i desperately want to bone her,” eddie fake ponders. you give him a look which causes him to chuckle. “don’t act like you’ve got me fooled, princess. i know you want me too,” he says, pulling you closer to him.
you grab his hand that’s on your waist and pulls it away. “maybe i do, or maybe i’ve been dancing with steve harrington all night,” you raise your brows, smirking before walking off.
when you make it back to steve, you’re even more confused on who you want. “you’re back,” steve smirks, grabbing you and pulling you in.
you smirk back, pushing away other thoughts. “that i am, harrington. creaming your pants yet?” you tease, dragging your nail dangerously low on his torso.
the two of you laugh lightly before continuing your dancing like before and getting lost in the music. you knew you were having an effect on steve, and you definitely couldn’t miss the way eddie’s eyes were trained on you from across the room. you felt extremely powerful.
“i need to head to the bathroom,” you said over the music, tapping steve on the cheek before walking away from him once again. eddie is quick to push off the wall to follow you.
as you make your way into the bathroom, eddie is squeezing through sweaty bodies and getting dirty looks from half of them. you did your business, took a moment to collect yourself while washing your hands, and then figured you should probably go find eddie. because really, you still couldn’t decide who you wanted.
lucky for you, you didn’t have to find eddie. because he was standing outside the door waiting for you. “miss me?” you fake pout, leaning against the wall next to him.
eddie huffs, moving himself in front of you with one arm propped on the wall next to your head. “you just love me watching you be all up on harrington, don’t you? you trying to make me jealous?” he asks, leaning in closer.
you glance from his brown doe eyes down to his plump pink lips. they were so damn kissable. “mm not really, but i see it’s working,” you raise a brow.
eddie rolls his eyes at you. “hmph, well who’s it going to be? because i promise you, i can definitely fuck you better than-“
“what’s going on here?” steve interrupts from out of nowhere. both you and eddie’s heads snap to him, eddie’s covered with a scowl.
you hated that you really wanted them to fight over you. not physically of course, you would feel terrible if either of them got hurt. “just getting ready to take y/n home for the night, what’s going on with you, harrington?” eddie smiled, putting on a front and pulling you to his side.
steve put his hands on his hips and gave the two of you a look of disapproval. “funny, because i’m pretty sure i’m taking y/n home tonight. right, y/n?” he said sharply and you couldn’t lie it gave you butterflies.
you smirk and shrug. “i haven’t really decided yet,” you say, stepping out of eddie’s grasp.
eddie scoffs. “c’mon henderson, you were just about to jump on me before he interrupted,” he says, dramatically gesturing to himself and then steve.
“and it’s you who she’s been grinding on all night?” steve asks with mock innocence.
suddenly, a light bulb goes off in your head that has your thighs clenching and your panties dampening. “or you could both have me,” you say, catching them both off guard.
eddie gives you a look, feeling his dick twitch in excitement. you wanted them both to tear you apart? oh that was hot. eddie looked from you to steve before giving a shrug, saying he wouldn’t mind.
“what? i’m not- with munson? no,” steve says, mild panic spreading through his veins.
eddie chuckles at his response, running his tongue along the back of his teeth before stepping forward. he grabs a handful of your ass and pulls you to him roughly, causing you to yelp before relaxing into his hold. “guess since you’re too pussy she’ll be coming with me then,” eddie says, making a show of squeezing your ass as your hand rests on his chest.
you give steve a pout. “are you sure, steve? i really do want you both. please?” you beg, gripping eddie’s shirt as you think of all the ways this could play out.
steve chews on his lip as he debates it. the sight of eddie kneading your ass was enough to make him weak in the knees. “fine, yeah, okay,” steve breathes out, wondering what the hell he’s getting into. you squeal happily, placing a peck on eddie’s lips before going and doing the same to steve.
eddie and steve share a look as you grab one of each of their hands. “alright, where are we going?” eddie asks and all of you stop to think. well…
your house was obviously off limits because… dustin. it was a weekend, therefore eddie’s uncle was home. and for once, steve’s parents were home. eddie ends up telling you to follow him to his van. it was mostly open in the back, therefore giving enough room for certain activities to take place.
you were way too horny to question it anyway. “alright, harrington, you get her worked up while i take us somewhere less crowded,” eddie smirks, opening the side door for the two of you.
the second you’re both in, you’re pouncing on steve and attaching your lips to his. steve grunts in surprise, almost falling backwards at the force of you. eddie hops into the drivers seat and starts it up. “desperate much?” steve asks as he pulls back, grip on your waist getting much tighter.
eddie glances in his rear view mirror, smirking at the sight of you. there were so many things he wanted to do to you, things he’d been dreaming of for months now.
steve begins kissing your jaw, slowly moving from the bottom of your ear towards the point of your chin before dropping to your neck. he finds a spot just under the curve of your jaw that makes you let out a small moan. he smiles in achievement into your skin and begins sucking, nipping, and licking at it to create a nice purple bruise. “don’t mark her too much, harrington. gotta leave some room for me,” eddie jokes from the front seat, turning on to a more rural road of hawkins.
your fingers grasp steve’s perfect hair, whiny moans leaving your lips as you begin grinding on him subconsciously. steve pushes you off of him, laying you on the floor of eddie’s van. he can’t help but take a moment to notice the purple fuzzy rug that actually covered the floor of eddie’s van before reconnecting your lips.
“oh shit,” you moan into his mouth as he reaches under your skirt to ghost over your clothed pussy. eddie bites his lip, scanning for a road to pull off on as he becomes more impatient.
steve’s fingers lightly graze from your entrance all the way up to you clit before moving in slow, light circles. “steve,” you moan, your lips disconnecting as your head falls back.
steve sucks his lower lip into his mouth before smiling. he loved watching you squirm from his barely there touches. “so sensitive already, y/n?” he teases, the pad of this finger still circling your clit.
the van is put into park and eddie shuts it off before climbing it the back. “i don’t even know what i want to do to you first,” eddie sighs dramatically sitting near your head.
“touch me?” you suggest, reaching out for him.
eddie raises a brow and pulls back from you. “i don’t know why you think you’re the one who’s gonna make the decisions,” he tuts, looking to steve to check if they were on the same page.
“yeah, you wanted to act like a whore back at the party, so much so you couldn’t even chose one of us, so you’re gonna get treated like a whore. and whores don’t make decisions,” steve says, removing his fingers from your pussy. you make a noise of complaint and raise your hips, trying to chase his hand. steve only slaps down on your pussy, making you twitch but fall back to the ground.
eddie looks at your flustered face before looking to steve. “okay, harrington,” he laughs lightly, nudging steve. “i like this,” he confirms, looking back down to you.
eddie reaches down, using his fingers to not so gently push your chin back so he can examine your neck. he pushes your head side to side before wrapping his hand around your throat. you gasp from the coldness of his rings and it only causes him to squeeze on the sides of your neck. he lifts you up towards him, leaning down to get close to you. he scans your aroused expression before giving you an evil smile. “let’s see how dirty you are,” he comments, squeezing on your neck particularly tight. you let out a moan, eyes rolling back and closing for a moment. “open your mouth for me,” eddie says and you immediately open your eyes and follow his instruction.
steve watches closely as eddie gets closer to your mouth, his cheeks moving around before a slow dribble of spit slips past his lips and onto your awaiting tongue. you never knew you’d like this before, but holy shit were you getting wetter by the second. “swallow,” eddie whispers, watching you closely. you do, looking up at him for approval. he grunts, leaning down and smashing his lips to yours in a hungry kiss.
steve begins palming his bulge as he watches you react to eddie’s kiss. you reached up to grab him, one hand to his shoulder and the other fisting his shirt while your thighs clamped together. steve reached forward, grabbing your ankle and making you jolt. you relaxed once you remembered it was just steve and let him remove your shoes.
eddie pulled away, dropping you to the floor and scanning you. “i say we fuck with her a little,” steve says, hands sliding up your calves.
eddie licks his lips and nods. “i agree, let’s get her out of these clothes first,” he says, looking at steve for agreement.
the two boys nod, looking down at you. you were biting your lip, looking between them helplessly. eddie grabbed you by your arms, pulling you into a sitting position so he could peel your revealing shirt off and over your head. steve reached up, pushing you back down and hooking his fingers into the waistband of your skirt. he pulls it down and eddie barely gives you a second before he’s reaching under your back and unclasping your bra. “look at those,” he whistles, throwing your bra behind him. you gasp as his hands envelope your breasts. his hands were warm but his rings were ice cold.
“hey man, share,” steve says, grabbing one of eddie’s wrists as he crawls up to be level with him. eddie removes his hand, steve’s quickly taking its place as they both fondle your breasts. steve is rougher, pulling and pinching harshly at your nipple as eddie rolls it between his fingers. eddie leans down, placing gentle kisses over your breasts before wrapping his lips around your nipple and sucking.
you moan, hand reaching up to tangle in eddie’s hair. steve smiles at your reaction and gets an idea. he leaves himself down, nudging eddie to the side slightly so he can enclose your opposite nipple in his lips. “oh, shit,” you yelp, hand flying up to steve’s head before you pull on both their hair. they both let out low moans.
eddie continues suckling on your nipple, occasionally pulling back to blow cold air on to it. meanwhile, steve is nipping and licking at your other nipple, causing you to close your eyes in pleasure. eddie pulls away, rubbing over your hardened peak that was now slick with his spit as his cock strained in his pants.
you let out a whine as steve also pulled off of you. the two shared a look before moving themselves down to your bottom half. “guys,” you whimper, catching their attention. “please,” you say, rolling your hips to try and get any sort of friction.
“i don’t like how you address me,” eddie says, grabbing the band of your underwear and snapping it against your thigh. “why don’t you start using your manners, princess? from now on you call me daddy, got it?” eddie says, digging his fingers into your thigh. you nod quickly and eddie gives you a kiss on the cheek. “and for steve… well, what is it you wanna be called harrington?” eddie continues.
steve thinks for a moment while avoiding looking at eddie. “sir or master, either will work just fine, baby,” steve says, making sure you’re good with it. you nod in compliance and then steve is pulling your underwear off and throwing them somewhere in the van. “look at that pretty pussy,” steve says lowly, pushing your legs as far apart as they would go.
steve and eddie each caress one of your thighs, you whimpering in need as they near your heat just to pull away. “you’re already so wet,” eddie admires, biting his lower lip as he strokes the juncture of your inner thigh with his thumb. he was less than an inch away from where you needed some friction and it made you whine, shuffling your hips in discomfort.
the two share a look and a smirk that definitely is hiding something evil. then steve is leaning forward, using his pointer finger to gather some of the slick from your entrance and drag it softly up to your clit. “m-master,” you cry at the contact, rolling your hips against his feather light touch. steve pays no mind to your sensitivity and repeats the action.
as he does it a third time, he changes his fingers to his ring and middle. without warning, he plunges them inside you. you let out a gasp, walls clenching around him as he begins slowly rocking them into you. your eyes closed in pleasure, pushing your hips to meet his every thrust. you hear them chuckle before eddie’s fingers make contact with your clit. “fuck,” you gasp, eyes shooting open in shock.
“feel good, princes?” eddie asks, circling your clit. steve curls his fingers inside of you, stroking your most sensitive spot.
your head falls back again as you let yourself feel all the sensations you were receiving. “yes, daddy,” you moan and eddie’s fingers pick up speed.
you can feel your orgasm building up, the mix of their fingers inside and against you causing you to shake. “gonna cum already, whore?” steve asks, grunting as he continues hammering his fingers into you.
your fingers grip as the shaggy carpet that covered the van floor. “such a slut, gonna cum on two guys fingers. dirty fucking cunt, imagine what people would think,” eddie groans, his dick throbbing from the wet sounds of your pussy.
“i-i’m gonna cum,” you cry, screwing your eyes shut.
steve let’s out a grunt before telling you, “then fucking cum.” you gasp as your muscles tense and an intense wave of hot pleasure floods your nervous system. eddie’s fingers don’t let up as steve’s falter under the grip of your spasming walls. you roll your hips, moans of ‘master’ and ‘daddy’ leaving your lips as you ride out your high.
“good girl,” eddie coos, kissing your face as he continues rubbing at your clit. steve pulls his fingers from you, sitting back on his knees as eddie lets you finish out your high. you finally open your eyes, seeing eddie smiling down at you. he presses his lips against yours as steve begins removing his shirt.
you whimper when eddie pulls away, only for him to crawl down and lay on his stomach between your legs. steve shimmies out of his jeans, crawling to instead sit behind you and prop you against his chest. “what are we-“ you begin but then eddie is licking a stripe up your sensitive slit. you gasp, reaching down to tangle a hand in his hair. he chuckles against you, the vibrations making you twitch.
steve’s hands come from behind, finding your tits and immediately squeezing them. you don’t know what to focus on as eddie’s tongue teases over your clit and steve goes between squeezing your breasts and pulling on your nipples.
one hand is tangled in eddie’s hair while the other grips steve’s thigh. eddie pulls your clit between his lips and sucks on his causing you to moan. “fuck, daddy, please,” you say breathily, pushing him into your pussy.
“stop being so greedy, slut,” steve growls in your ear. he harshly slaps your tits causing you to gasp. the noises from eddie sucking at and licking your pussy are sinful but it only urges you on farther.
his tongue dips down to your soaked entranced, thrusting inside and simultaneously grinding his nose against your clit. eddie unintentionally grinds into the floor as he grips your thighs hard enough for his rings to leave indents. “you going to cum on eddie’s tongue? going to make a mess of his face like the whore you are?” steve asks, harshly tugging your nipple as you make eye contact with eddie.
you whine as the knot begins building again and you become hyper aware of everything touching your skin. your back plastered against steve, his hard cock pressing up against you as he gripped your tits. eddie’s cold rings bringing relief to your skin that was on fire as he moves back up to keep lapping at your clit.
“cum, pretty girl,” eddie mumbles against you before sucking harshly on your clit, carefully teasing it with his teeth gently. your head falls onto steve’s shoulder as you cum for the second time. eddie laps your clit through your orgasm after a gush of your cum coats his chin.
steve sucks another hickey into your neck as you come down from your high, eddie moving to do the same to your inner thighs. you lay there, slumped against steve as you wait for yourself to get back together and feeling the two suck bruises into your skin. “you should taste her,” eddie says when he finally pushes himself up. steve reaches down, using two fingers to collect your arousal before placing them in his mouth.
he moans at the taste, watching you whimper as you watch. “you wanna taste yourself?” steve asks as he pulls off his fingers with a pop. you nod, and steve repeats the action only bringing his fingers to your mouth. he pushes them all the way in your mouth as eddie sheds his clothes.
“thank you, master,” you say once he pulls away and then you look to eddie. “thank you, daddy,” you mumble shyly, your mind replaying the sight of him between your legs.
“you’re welcome, princess,” eddie says with a smile, pulling his boxers off. your eyes fall to his cock and widen as it slaps against his chest. “you ready to get fucked, sweet girl? think we’ll let steve go first, yeah?“ he suggests, falling to his knees and crawling to you. he places some hair behind your ear as he studies your face. you nod at him before looking back to steve.
steve isn’t as sweet and caring as eddie, but you don’t care. he doesn’t kiss you for reassurance or give you any input before looking to eddie. “want to fuck her mouth while i do?” he asks, an image coming to his min.
eddie laughs, literally laughs, before smiling. “i like the way you think,” he says and then he’s grabbing you to help place you on your hands and knees. you don’t even know it’s about to happen, but soon enough steve’s head is pushing at your entrance. you gasp at how big he already feels. you can’t see it, but you’re pretty sure he’s thicker than eddie.
steve grips your hips, sliding slowly into you as not to hurt you. “you ready?” he asks once he is fully buried inside you for a moment.
“y-yes, master,” you stutter and then he’s pulling back to slam into you. eddie grabs your chin, admiring your face as steve sets a steady pace and you moan in pleasure. he strokes your chin with his thumb before bringing it up to drag your lip down.
you look at him helplessly as steve grunts, his cock being squeezed by your walls. your eyes close as eddie presses his thumb inside your mouth. you suck on it obediently as steve drives deeper and deeper into you.
eddie pulls his thumb from your mouth when steve begins going faster, hitting against that certain spot inside of you each time. “open your mouth,” eddie demands, stroking his cock as he tilts your head towards him. you do as you’re told and eddie slides himself into your warm mouth. his dick is heavy against your tongue as his hands move to grab your hair. he waits to see steve’s rhythm before pulling you forward to match it. you gagged around his cock before forcing your throat to relax.
as eddie’s cock left your mouth, you were being slammed onto steve’s and then it would switch. your eyes watered as the mix of pleasure and pain you were feeling as you kept steady eye contact with eddie. “oh fuck, if only steve could see your face,” eddie groans, snapping his hips into your mouth.
steve reaches around your waist to start rubbing uncoordinatedly at your clit. “getting close, fuck your cunt is so tight. i need you to cum again, y/n, cum around my cock,” he demands and you let out a cry, tears spilling from your eyes.
the mixed sounds of their moans is the missing piece that sends you over the edge. your whole body shakes as you clamp down on steve. eddie pulls out of your mouth and steve is quickly flipping you over. you slam hard onto the ground but aren’t even able to acknowledge it as your eyes roll back and you gush on steve’s cock. he pulls out, jerking himself off until his cum is splattering over your abdomen.
you don’t get a chance to recover before eddie is taking steve’s place and entering you. you let out a scream as eddie thrusts into you. steve catches his breath before sticking his fingers down your throat and pulling at your nipples. your shaking in overstimulation as eddie pounds into you. “look so pretty like this for daddy, fuck,” eddie says, his hair hanging in his face. you moan around steve’s fingers, seeing stars as you feel the knot build once again.
eddie grabs your legs, pulling them up and over his shoulders. he holds on to your shins as he hammers into you, watching the way your eyes roll and spit dribbles past steve’s fingers. the new position has the head of his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly.
you’re cumming again in less than a minute without warning. you’re not able to talk with steve’s fingers pressing against your tongue but honestly you probably wouldn’t have been able to anyway. tears leak from your eyes as your body jolts in a way similar to a seizure, cries of pleasure and small moans leaving your throat. eddie drops your legs and then is pulling out, repeating steve’s actions but cumming on your tits. steve removes his fingers as eddie falls to your side, sitting with his head tilted back as he catches his breath. steve watches carefully, half worried you might actually be having a seizure as you continue to convulse. you eventually stop and squeeze your legs together, rolling onto your side to face away from them.
you begin to cry, hiding the small sobs that wrack through you. in no way did you regret it or were hurt, you were just vulnerable. “do we… we should like, hold her ‘n stuff, right?” eddie questions, still slightly restless as he looks at you in concern.
steve looks from him to you before furrowing his brows. “is that gay?” steve asks and eddie narrows his eyes at him. “no that it matters i was-“ steve continues quickly.
“it’s aftercare, steve,” eddie says and steve nods.
“yes, right,” steve confirms and watches as eddie moves to his knees.
eddie stretches his back for a moment. “least she deserves after we fucked her stupid is some cuddles, right y/n,” he says lightly, grabbing your shoulder and tugging you to lay on your back again. he notices your tears and he falters. “you okay?” he asks worriedly which has steve rushing to your side.
you nod, looking between the two. “i would really like those cuddles,” you whimper, not meaning to sound so sad.
eddie nods and looks around. “of course, hunny. uh steve, there should be a rag in my glove box can you get it?” eddie says in a hurried tone. steve nods, standing and pulling up his boxers before going to find it. eddie caresses your face, reaching to grab his underwear and shirt with his opposite hand. “promise you’re okay? we didn’t take it too far?” he asks.
“promise, i really enjoyed it,” you say and steve comes back with the rag. he kneels next to you, wiping his and eddie’s cum off of you while eddie pulls on his boxers.
“can you sit up?” steve asks once he’s done, noticing eddie sitting there with his shirt ready for you. you reach out for his hands, them shaking before he grabs them. the boys help you into eddie’s shirt before laying you back down.
eddie lays his arm across your upper torso, resting his hand right under you your breasts as you lean into him. steve hooks one arm around your waist before finding one of your hands with the other. he lays his head against your shoulder as he and eddie tangle the three of your legs together.
you lay there in comfortable silence before you let out a sigh. “sorry, dustin,” you mumble into the air. the three of you erupt into laughter at your comment. poor dustin.
based on a prompt from @hideeznuts (along with @bellajg21)
#stranger things eddie#stranger things 4#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#munson#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson imagine#eddie x reader#stranger things#eddie#steve harrington#steve#harrington#steve harrington smut#eddie munson smut#eddie munson and steve harrington#steddie#steveddie#stranger things smut
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y'all say that steve's bisexual awakening was eddie, but real one's know it was the jazzercise guy
#steddie#steve harrington#jazzercise guy#bisexual steve harrington#stranger things#netflix#bisexual#steve#harrington#eddie munson#st3#stranger things season three
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Kinktober +18 (late)
Day #9 | mirror sex | Steve Harrington.
Kinktober masterlist
Warnings: mirror sex, dirty talk, doggy style.
★★★
He had you on all fours. Pounding into you energetically. The fact that there was a mirror in front of you made this even better. It combined your two favorite things in sex: doggy style and watching Steve's face contort in pleasure.
“O-oh, fuck!” you moaned feeling a shiver run all through your body. Steve raised his look and saw the mirror in front of you, he hadn't notice it until now. He saw how you were watching how he fuck you right and hard.
“you like to see how I fuck You baby?” he mocked on your ear with a smirk on his face, “to see how much I like to be inside your little count?”
“y-yeah- ahh!” you moaned at one thrust that was deeper than the others were. “fuck! Do it like that, Steve!” you whined, burying your face on the mattress.
“oh, no, darling” Steve said, taking your chin and pushing your head up, so you could watch at the mirror again. “I want you to see how I fuck the hell out of you”, he said, thrusting even harder. Deeper.
#kinktober#kinktober 2022#stranger things#stranger things smut#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve x reader#harrington#steve smut
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BLOODY NOSE s.harrington
☆ WORD COUNT - 1.6K
STEVE HARRINGTON X FEM!READER
☆ SUMMARY - your clumsy self was used to running into things and hurting yourself, so much so that you practically couldn't even feel the pain anymore. however, a little blood was enough to scare you. thankfully, steve is there to clean your bloody mess up.
☆ WARNINGS - blood, kinda gorey, clumsy!reader, ditzy!reader, crybaby!reader (the reader's a lot of things, okay??), worrying, anxiety, mention of knife?, attentive!steve, pre-established relationship, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷
clumsy was your middle name, at least it should be.
you can't recall the last time you'd gone a full week without falling over and skidding your knee or banging your head into the pole you were walking towards. something about hurting yourself came so easy to you. perhaps it was because you were a buzzing ball of energy and no cones would stand in your way.
and steve harrington couldn't have you any other way.
allthough, he'd love if you'd actually look where you were going, he didn't really mind shutting the cupboards after you to make sure you didn't hit your head or switch off the gas when you were finished baking so you didn't light the house on fire, or even snatching your arm and forcing you to one side of the street so you didn't walk straight into the pole right in front of you.
however, sometimes he truly did wish you wouldn't be so clumsy.
as cute as it was, he couldn't deny that he was a worrier. a worrier until his last breath. your every move had him on his tip toes, making him turn grey in his prime and forcing the wrinkled lines on his forehead.
there was no denying that steve was sort of alike a mother to everyone he let into his life. a father? no, no. a mother. which was sort of odd, seeing as he was also your boyfriend.
often times you were strolling into family video with another bruise or scratch. you didn't mind though, because there was no blood. truthfully, steve was always much more worried than you were, trying to hold your leg still as he patched a plaster on it.
you were always swinging your dangling legs across those tables.
as time progressed, so did your relationship.
steve supposed that he never stopped being worried, he just began being prepared. plasters in his pockets, always watching you with a close eye.
until he wasn't.
it was late in the afternoon, a chopping knife in your hand. you were cutting up some fruits, wooden chopping board soaked in many different colours due to the juices that fell from them. steve knew how you loved your snacks in the evening, especially fruit, you had this awful craving for them. perhaps it was due to the dehydration you had when you constantly forgot to drink water. usually, steve had to follow you around with a water bottle.
usually, this was steve's task.
he didn't often leave you alone with a knife. actually, come to think about it he never left you alone with a knife. he knew that the outcome would not be as blissful as one would imagine.
even now, after you'd begged to cut up your own fruit. you'd told him that you were a lady, not a toddler. he had to agree. and as nervous as he was, he sat by the counter. his eyes were strained on your hands, chopping up the fruit.
the knife slid from each piece of fruit, you grasping the little chunks and tossing them in a bowl. "you want any?" you questioned, back sort of turned to him as you sliced the pear.
"no, honey, i'm okay―" smiling at you before realising he was smiling at you meaning your face was turned away from the fruit. "eyes on the fruit, sweetheart." though there was obvious worry laced in his tone, his own throat clenching at the mere thought of you practically slicing your hand off.
honestly? it wasn't too far fetched with what you'd done in the past.
steve watched as you dropped the knife a little too carelessly onto the chopping board before sweeping the bowl into your hands. he'd breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful the worrying and bubbling anxiety of you slicing a limb off was over.
unfortunately, that feeling of relief? yeah, it didn't last too long.
"See that wasn't so hard―" before he could so much as utter out a word of caution, much too wrapped up in the whole knife business, the open cabinet drawer was hitting you right in the face, a loud "ow!" falling from your lips.
"shit." instantly standing from his seat, making his way over towards you.
holding your hand up to your face, you uttered the muffled words. "'m okay, i jus―" turning to place the bowl of fruit onto the counter before "ow!" slapping your face against the same cabinet drawer.
"jesus christ." panic evident in his voice. "just―just don't move, okay?" perhaps that was the best idea, seeing as you moving would possibly result in loosing some form of a limb.
truthfully, it didn't hurt that much.
there was a stinging pain in your nose but you'd felt that familliar feeling many times before. it was almost as if your body had grown numb to the pain. perhaps that was why it was so easy to keep repeating the same mistakes, your body simply didn't care enough to stop.
you said ow due to the pressure though also because you deemed it was sort of necessary. you hit something, you shout "ow" right?
you felt him before you could hear him. "you okay? c'mere, baby, show me a look." the bowl of fruit was discarded on the counter top while one of hands moved to shove the cupboard press closed so you were in a safe proximity, tossing the end of the knife over and tipping it into the sink, out of reach.
finally, his hands came down to your own wrists, gently maneuvering them away from your face so he could take a look at your nose. "'m okay." you quickly quipped, knowing you'd endured much worse than a little bang against some wood. "really, it doesn't hurt that bad." did it even hurt at all? perhaps the feeling of hurt hadn't truly settled in.
steve didn't listen, tipping your head back by his finger against your chin. "doesn't hurt that bad?" you nodded though your head stung a little just by doing so. "yeah, well you're bleeding."
he should have known not to utter those words.
almost instantly, he turned to grab some of the kitchen paper that had been placed on the table, using the roll to grab a couple sheets, knowing you were too far from the bathroom.
bleeding?
the word kept repeating in your head and suddenly you felt dizzy. perhaps it was the hit of the cabinet drawer against your head or maybe it was the way you pushed your hand up to your nose, gazing down at the red crimson that painted your delicate skin.
why did your nose suddenly hurt so bad?
perhaps it was the anxiety building up in your cluttered chest. whatever it was, you could feel stinging in your eyes now, not from any physical pain but instead the pretty silhouette of tears that danced in your waterline, all glossy.
steve took notice of your glassy eyes before you could utter a word. "hey, hey, wh's wrong? does it hurt?" you nodded your head in agreement, despite the dizziness, despite the fact that you didn't know if it was all that entirely true.
he placed the kitchen paper against your nose ever so gently, featherlight. "i didn't... i didn't mean to." your voice came out breathless, sort of wobbly as if you really were going to cry.
steve felt his heart ache a little at that. "no, no, i know you didn't, hey." his large hand moved it's way towards your waist, soothing the skin gently. however, he was suddenly aware of your glance cast down on your hand, covered in a little of the blood from your nose. "hey, c'mon, pretty girl, 's just a little blood, no biggie, okay?"
once again, you nodded as a response, sniffing slightly.
"stupid." you mumbled through the tissue held against your nose, stumping the bleeding. it caused the word to come out muffled, practically unheard.
"you're not stupid." he gushed. "it was an accident, it happens."
however this time, you shook your head. "no, not me." his brows pinched together a little, taking the napkin from your nose, dried blood at the base of your nose. "the stupid cabinet door." grouching like a child.
he couldn't help but grin at you, wiping the dried blood from the bottom of your nose. "yeah, stupid cabinet door." he agreed, thankful your fear of blood didn't last too long.
you see, if it was any other situation, you probably would have cried.
but when steve stood so close to you, the scent of him enveloping you, arms practically encaging you. there was something about it that made the world stop, that made you realise a little blood wasn't all that bad. hey, you got attention from the world's best boyfriend, right?
surely, that had to count for something.
half an hour passed, you laid on the couch with a pack of frozen peas against your already bruising nose while leaning against steve's arm. he used his other one to hold a fork, feeding you the chopped up fruit. "better?" he mumbled, unable to catch your eye when you were so engrossed in the tv in front of you.
practically dazed by the animation, you managed to nod your head. "better." mumbling back, barely uttering the whole word.
steve couldn't help but roll his eyes upon realising how much special treatment he was giving you. truthfully, he was thankful you were okay but there was only one thing on his mind. "never lettin' you cut fruit again." murmuring practically to himself.
however, you heard. you snapped your head up, dodging the strawberry with a shocked look on your face. "what why?" he stared at you with a little shock. "i didn't even get cut!"
he rolled his eyes, shoving the strawberry through your lips. "just eat your fruit."
main masterlist/steve's masterlist
#steve#harrington#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington drabble#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#stranger things#stranger things x reader#stranger things x y/n#stranger things x you#stranger things imagine#steve harrington au#steveharrington#steve harrington headcannon#steve harrington fanfiction#sleepyangelkami
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