#steve Harrington x Reader
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For A Good Time Call! || Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader
Rating: Explicit (18+)
Word Count: 14.6k
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Phone Sex Hotline Operator!Reader
Warnings: SMUT (phone sex, m & f masturbation (including pillow humping & sex toys), f!receiving oral sex, p in v sex), language, idiots in love, mutual pining, porn WITH plot
Summary: In the Summer of 1985, Steve's social standing is at an all time low. In an act of sheer, pathetic desperation, he calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know, his dream girl from the hotline is just an escalator away.
Steve Harrington wasn’t the kind of guy who did this. He repeated it in his head as he scribbled down the phone number— fed straight to him from a local late-night advertisement. For a good time call!
It didn’t take a genius to figure out what that meant. And he wasn’t exactly able to ignore the way his dick twitched in his boxers as the commercial showed pretty girls twirling phone lines around manicured fingers, pretty smiles on their faces, eyes sultry and staring right through him.
Plus, he wasn’t actually going to call. He was just… keeping the number for his records. He’d just put it in his Rolodex and forget about it.
A week later, and he decidedly hadn’t forgotten about it. In fact, with the house empty and playboys not cutting it, it’s all he could think about.
For a good time call. He wanted to have a good time. It had been a while since he had a good time— his stupid Scoops Ahoy uniform wasn’t exactly bolstering his natural charm. Robin could say what she wanted, but he was charming and fun and everything people usually want in a boyfriend. He was just… going through a rough patch.
He retrieved his Rolodex and hurriedly flipped through, trying to remember where he’d hidden the number. Definitely not around his boss. And not around Nancy either. Tucked between Tommy and a past hookup, he found it.
He set up his pillows behind his back and got comfortable before dialing the number with uncharacteristically sweaty hands. He was cooler than this was all making him seem. He was the playboy of Hawkins High— of Hawkins in general. Phone sex was nothing.
As he dialed the number, he prepared to turn on his charm. Instead, he was led to a generic call-center script, which, after being carefully followed based on his wants and desires, took him to billing.
“It’s a flat rate of twenty for your first ten minutes. If you finish before then, it’s still twenty, alright?”
He swallowed hard. “Okay.”
“After that, it’s fifty cents per minute. An hour session will run you about $55.” Oh. It certainly wasn’t cheap. He’d spent less on dates before. “Is that alright with you?”
“Yeah,” he said after a brief pause, his mind taking a while to catch up. “Do you need my credit card?”
By the time billing was over, his anticipation had tangled his stomach into knots. He glanced at the clock, wondering if those ten minutes would fly past him as fast as he thought they would. The line trilled as he waited to be connected to his partner for the night. Jenny. Like the song.
That song was gross, anyway. But how could he say anything about it now?
The ringing stopped, and he could hear the crackle of a quiet line on the other side, the rustle of movement. Did he need to say hi first? Was trying to start a conversation weird?
“Hi,” he said, and he wondered how he could make one word sound so utterly stupid. “Jenny, right?”
“Mhmm,” you hummed. He could picture you so clearly, despite knowing nothing— one of those pretty girls in the commercials, laying on your belly on a frilly pink bed, fingernails and toenails painted a shiny red, twirling the phone cord around your finger. “What should I call you?”
He swallowed. “Do people usually give you fake names?”
“Sometimes,” you replied. “It’s not about what other people do, baby. It’s about what you want. Do you want me to call you by a fake name?”
He wrinkled his nose. What was the worst thing that could come from a stranger knowing his first name? “No, that sounds awful. No offense.” You laughed, and he felt himself relax. “I’m Steve H—“ He cleared his throat. “Just Steve.”
“Well, I’m glad that I get to talk to you tonight Steve,” you said, and just the sultry timbre of your voice made his stomach do flips. “I’m guessing this is your first time?”
He furrowed his brows. “I’m not a virgin.”
“No, baby. I mean it seems like it’s your first time calling a hotline like this.” His face burned hot as he fumbled his way through answering, oh, yeah, I guess that’s right. “So, sweetheart, why don’t you tell me what you want?”
“Uh…” he paused, trying to think of a more polite way of saying to cum while a pretty girl talks to me. “I guess I’ve just been lonely.”
“Poor baby,” you said, and he was shocked that you didn’t have even a hint of amusement or mirth when you said it. “You want me to take care of you? Help you forget?”
His breath caught in his throat, stealing his response. His dick twitched, already half-hard and sensitive. All he could manage was a tiny whimper of, “Mhmm.”
“What do you usually think about when you’re touching yourself?” You asked, and the lack of shame in your voice made heat flare in his cheeks. He’d had some shameless hookups, but most of the girls he slept with didn’t like to talk about it. “Like, what’s your favorite fantasy, Steve?”
It was embarrassing. Mortifying, actually. It was basically the plot of a bad porno or a letter to Penthouse.
Usually, it started by his pool. And a girl was there, wearing a cute, but ultimately tiny, bikini. The girl didn’t really matter. Well, she did, but it wasn’t about who she was. She could have been a Playmate of the Month, or a movie star, or a girl he was crushing on and wanted to ask out. All that mattered for the sake of the fantasy, was that she was pretty, had nice tits, and wanted him.
“Does that make me awful?” He asked, pausing mid-description to gauge your perception of him. You laughed on the other end of the line.
“God, Steve,” you said with thinly veiled amusement. “You think I give a personality and backstory to all of the people I fantasize about fucking?”
It made him feel a little better.
Anyways, there was something about summertime that just made sense to him. Skin all but steaming in the heat, the oiled up glow that came from sweaty skin. Wearing as few clothes as possible so you didn’t overheat.
You gave a nervous laugh— breathy and sweet— on the other end of the line. “You’re really good at setting the scene, Steve.” He liked to be specific. He wanted to think about tiny details like the salty taste of skin or hair that smelled like chlorine and salt. “What’s next?”
She always started by laying on her stomach, the ties of her bikini undone so she didn’t get unsightly tan lines. She would peer at him over her shoulder with wide, innocent eyes while she asked if he could apply a bit more sunscreen on her back where she couldn’t reach.
So he straddled her thighs, her skin burning up under his hands as he rubbed in the freezing cold sunscreen. Goosebumps would break out along her arms, and she’d have to arch away from the sensation, pushing her ass against him.
“Are you hard already?” You asked, and his cheeks burned hot.
“Like…” He glanced at his lap, where his cock was already straining against the fabric of his boxers. “In the fantasy or right now?”
“Is the answer the same for both?”
He let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”
“Keep going.”
He was already impatient. Skipped right to the kissing and cut out the context and actions that led to it. Did it matter? The bikini top fell onto the ground, and she was on top of him, tits pressed into his sun-warmed chest, tongue licking into his mouth.
God, he fucking loved kissing. He’d missed it so much since he’d graduated and his social clout had depleted to fuck all. There had been dates, and messy, slow makeouts in the back of his car since walking the stage, but not one since his first shift at Scoops Ahoy. It was killing him.
She felt so good in his lap— so warm and heavy. He could have stayed like that forever— trapped beneath a pretty girl with her tongue down his throat. But he wanted more— he always wanted more.
He wanted more then. As he relayed his fantasy to this stranger in painstaking detail, he ached for more. His hand was flat on his tummy, and he shivered as he slipped it beneath the band of his boxers to take his cock into his hand. He groaned, the back of his head knocking against the wall.
“God, you’re cute,” your voice was so pretty. He throbbed in his grip, making him exhale a shuddering breath. “It’s okay, Steve. You can keep touching yourself while you talk to me. I want you to.”
“Are you sure?” He asked, his voice broken by a tiny whimper. “I don’t have to.”
“I’m sure, baby,” you insisted. “What do you do next, hm? I’m on top of you, kissing you nice and slow, grinding my hips against yours because I just can’t help myself. Tell me what you’re going to do to me.”
“I’d—“ He swallows hard, eyes shut tight. “I’d want to taste you.”
In the fantasy, his hands gripped the back of your thighs, moving you up his body so you were just above his mouth. He was suave and sexy. He’d pull the bow at your hip with his teeth so your swim bottoms fell off like they were nothing.
And it would feel so comfortable beneath you— so natural for him. He’d just barely have to lean forward to have his mouth on you, already wet so he could taste you on his tongue. He’d moan at your taste— he fucking loved the way pussy tasted, even if he got shit for it in the locker room when he admitted it— and pull you down onto his mouth so he could get impossibly closer.
It would be messy— a mix of spit and slick on his mouth and chin, making the tip of his nose shine. He’d spend as long as he wanted beneath you, pulling every noise he could from your lips, trapped between your thighs. He wouldn’t stop until you came— once at a minimum, more if he was feeling greedy.
“All this attention on little old me,” you teased. “Would you let me take care of you? I could slip off those swim trunks of yours and make you feel good.”
He had set a steady pace— hand gliding up and down his length as his fantasy continued to evolve. “Yeah,” he managed, but his voice came out strangled and desperate. “You’d put your hand down my shorts and tease me. Your hand would feel so good. Warm and soft. You’d, uh, tell me how big I am, how you wanted to feel me stretch your uh— your—.”
“My what, baby?” Your voice dripped with amusement and mirth. “My pussy?”
“Fuck.” It came out with an exhale, his heart hammering.
“You like it when girls say dirty things to you, Steve?” You asked, and he could hear your smirk. “You want me to beg for your cock so deep inside of me that I feel you in my stomach? Or tell you how warm and wet and tight I feel around my fingers?”
Steve groaned, throbbing in his grip as he worked himself faster. “Fuck, are you really?”
“Mhmm,” you replied. “Think about how good I’d feel when you finally let yourself fuck me. You were such a gentleman first, but you don’t have to be with me. I want to make this all about you.”
But he was a gentleman. Of course he wanted to get his dick wet and et cetera, but that wasn’t really why he liked sex. He liked making people feel good all because of him— hearing the pretty noises they made, watching their initial shyness melt away into unabashed desire.
A lot of the time (most of the time), he felt like a huge fuck-up. Abysmal grades (well, more around average), not good enough for sports scholarships, basically every bit the son that his parents didn’t want to have. Who could really blame him for relishing in the times when he could be good and impressive to someone other than himself?
Whatever. If he thought about that train of thought for more than, like, ten seconds, he’d lose his hard-on and probably start crying into the receiver and spilling all of his life’s worst moments. He really couldn’t imagine anything more pathetic than that.
So he thought about something else.
He thought about how he’d lay you down on a beach towel, warmed in the sun, cradled by plush grass beneath it. He’d feel awkward about shucking off his swim trunks— he always hated undressing because it felt so awkward. But you’d look at him like he was the most attractive guy in the whole world.
He was a sap, what could he say? He would hold your hand too, squeezing it with his as he lined up with your entrance. You’d be so wet that it felt slick and he’d feel proud just knowing he did that to you.
When he finally pushed into you, your eyes would be locked on his, warm with emotion, like the entire world just melted away. And how could he not kiss you? When everything felt so good and your legs were wrapped around his waist and each breath was punctuated by soft, desperate sounds?
It would feel special. With your foreheads pressed together, breathing the same air. He just wants to be as close to you as possible— needs to feel every inch of your skin, sweaty and sun-warmed, against his. He’d just… bury himself deep inside of you and grind into you. It felt more intimate that way.
He could feel himself getting close. A furrow formed between his brows as he chased his high. Moans broke up his words as he brought himself closer and closer.
“I’d— fuck— I’d rub your clit. Make you cum before I got there. It’d feel so— so fucking good too. It always feels so good. Oh god. Fuck, I’m close.”
“Go ahead, baby. I want to hear you.”
His entire body shuddered as he came, spilling messily onto his belly and chest. It felt like it lasted forever— that warm, perfect feeling of reaching his peak. He was panting as he came down, stroking himself until overstimulation made him whimper.
“Fuck… maybe I should pay you for that,” you said after a beat. “Did it feel good, Steve? Feel a little less lonely?”
“Mhmm,” he replied. He was spent— already feeling languid and heavy. “That was… Really perfect.”
“I’m glad.” You paused again, and he spent that time trying to catch his breath. “I’m on every night around this time. Like, from around ten to two. I’d like to hear more of your fantasies, maybe even act one out with you, if you’d want that?”
His heart hammered, and he felt incredibly stupid as a blush crept up his neck and cheeks. “Yeah, I’ll call you again soon.”
When you said your good nights, he laid back against his pillows. The dial tone played over the speakers as he stared up at his ceiling, spend cooling on his tummy. Leave it to King Steve to fall for someone he had to pay to talk to.
Your eyelids drooped as you manned the checkout counter at Waldenbooks, one of few stores at the mall that could actually be found vacant during a busy summer day. Last night had been a late one— it didn’t help that you couldn’t stop thinking about Steve, your mystery caller.
It felt stupid to get hung up on the type of guy who had to call a hotline to get his rocks off, especially when you knew precious little about him. You had his name, his general location, that he had a pool, and he had a nice voice.
Your bangs lifted as you blew a puff of air out the side of your lips, slowly going insane to the sound of Muzak playing softly through the speakers.
Steve… Did you know any Steve’s? Steve Crandall got into a motorcycle wreck the year after graduation and died. Then there was Steve Odell who moved off to California on some crazy tech idea he swore was going to change the world. Steven Ferris? He seemed like the type, but there was no way he owned a pool since you were pretty sure he lived in the basement of some old couple’s house. That wiped out your graduating class, at least.
From your perspective on the second floor, you had a perfect view of the fine piece of ass working the ice cream parlor. He was cute— definitely younger than you by a couple of years— and the stupid costume they had him in surprisingly did it for you. You could watch him mop up spilled sorbet all day and it’d be jerk-off material for the next week.
He had nice biceps. And thighs. Fucking hell, the things you’d do to get between those and —
“New releases?” You snap your gaze to the other side of the counter, where a woman with pink lipstick on her teeth looks at you impatiently.
You plastered on a winning smile and pointed a manicured finger to the other side of the store. “That big shelf on the left-hand wall over there,” you said with saccharine sweetness. “Anything else that I can help you with, ma’am?”
She frowned and you fought a grin. There was nothing that women pushing forty hated more than being called ma’am. You might as well have been telling them they had a foot in the grave.
The day passed by with minimal hiccups. You convinced someone to buy your favorite book, so that was a win. And you’d gotten to restock the fun pencils. You clocked out and shrugged off the vest you wore on top of your normal clothes and took your hair down from its ponytail to hang loose on your shoulders. Your perm was kind of killing you. It never sat just how you wanted, almost like it had a mind of its own.
You made your way out of the mall with a brief glance towards Scoops Ahoy, which was notably missing the hot guy you’d been lusting after since your first day on the job. With a dejected sigh, you escaped the crowded, piercingly loud mall and stepped into the hot summer air.
Most people (or, more accurately, children) were heading for the busses that would shuttle people back into the town square or their respective neighborhoods, but your car waited for you in the exclusive Employees Only lot in the shade. As you turned to head that way, you bumped straight into a tall, firm figure.
Huh, you thought. He smells like hot fudge and maraschino cherries. I like those things.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I thought you were headed for the bus like everyone else.”
You looked up, squinting against the sun, and felt heat flood your cheeks when you realized that it was the hot ice cream scooper. “Oh, it’s, uh—“ you stammered nervously. It was never as easy as the phone line. “I was too.” You wanted to hit yourself. What the hell were you even talking about?
His brows furrowed. “You were what?“
Fuck. “I… uh— don’t know,” you finally said, ready for the conversation to end forever. “I’ll see you around.” And you were gone. You almost missed him calling after you.
You will?
But you pretended you’d never heard it.
——
Steve called at midnight, just as you brewed your second cup of coffee of the night. You took a quick sip as the call was directed your way, already feeling much more awake in anticipation of what lay ahead.
“Hey, Steve,” you greeted, adjusting your voice to that casual, sexy cadence that you had perfected. “I was thinking about you all day today.”
Steve responded with a dismissive psh. “I’m going to pretend that’s true, because I was thinking of you too,” he said, and you could hear his grin. “I kept screwing up at work because I’d get distracted thinking about you.”
You felt heat creep into your cheeks. “Baby, you’ll make me blush.” You paused, chewing on your lip briefly. “So… what’s in the cards for tonight, Steve? What do you want to do with me?”
He paused so long that you almost thought the call had dropped, but eventually he worked up the nerve to continue. “Well, you heard my fantasy last time. This time I want to hear yours.”
You snorted a laugh. “Steve, baby, that’s so incredibly sweet, but you could hate it, or think it’s boring, and then I’ll feel guilty for wasting your money.”
“I won’t,” he insisted. “C’mon, it’ll help us get to know each other better.”
You exhaled slowly through your nose, your tummy already fluttering with thoughts of the hot sailor shelling out dollar ice cream cones with extra sprinkles on top.
Fuck.
“Alright, but if you hate it, you’ve gotta promise me that you’ll tell me to shut up and we’ll do something else.” He hummed in affirmation and you laid back against your pillows, sighing as you closed your eyes and fell into your newfound, perfect little fantasy.
“So… when I’m not doing sexy phone calls, I work a menial job,” you begin. “And normally, I’d be, like, wearing an ugly polo or vest or something with our logo on it, but for the sake of sexiness, let’s say that I’m wearing a cute little dress and my hair looks, like, perfect.”
“What does your hair look like normally?” Steve asked, hung up on the one detail that was specifically for your sake. God, you wanted to burn your local salon to the ground.
“Uh,” you paused, wondering if you should tell the truth. “So I told my hairstylist to go for Kelly LeBrock and she… you know… tried. It looks so cute sometimes, and then other times it has a total mind of its own.”
“Oh, Kelly LeBrock! She’s such a babe. I saw the trailer for that movie she’s gonna be in. Total fox. Great hair.”
You tried to fight a smile, but couldn’t. “Do you wanna talk hair routines, or do you want me to keep going?”
Steve paused like he was genuinely considering it. “We’ll come back to the hair. I could probably help you figure it out, you know. I’ve got great hair.”
You smirked. “Oh, yeah? Where?”
“Use your imagination.”
You grinned. Oh, I am.
You were stocking shelves, as usual— except this time you couldn’t reach the top shelf. Standing on your tiptoes, the hemline of your skirt inching up and up and up. And suddenly there was a presence behind you, reaching up to stock the shelf for you. He smelled really nice, felt warm pressed up against your back.
“Am I the handsome stranger in this scenario?”
You said yes, even though you were mostly thinking about your mystery sailor from the mall. God, even the stupid uniform did it for you. Maybe it was the short shorts.
In the fantasy, the two of you didn’t even talk— really, your fantasies were typically pretty straight to the point, unlike Steve’s. The plot and dialogue would get skipped, and then suddenly, your back was pressed against the ridges of the shelves and the handsome stranger was on his knees in front of you, kissing sloppily up your thighs.
Usually, you’d have some sense of control— keep your hands above the belt. It was better for you that way. It gave you a sense of separation from what was real and what was happening on the phone. And, really, you never really had a particular need to touch yourself while you were handling the calls anyway.
And yet… Your hand slipped past the elastic hand of your panties, between your thighs where you were already wet and needy from just your own imagination. You gasped into the phone, bucking your hips into your own touch.
Steve made a choked sound, crackly through the phone’s speakers. He knew exactly what you were doing.
“Getting all worked up thinking about it, huh?” He asked, and you could hear a slight rustling and movement as he got himself undressed. It was honestly puzzling that it took that long, or that he didn’t call already ready to go. “Sound so pretty.”
You weren’t even aware that you were making a significant amount of noise, but Steve had keyed into it easily, hanging onto every sigh and whimper.
In your fantasy, his mouth was absolutely fucking sinful. He would moan against your cunt, nuzzling against your clit with his nose as he lapped up your slick. It was sloppy, and the sounds he made could have made the devil himself blush a burning red. His chin and mouth would drip with the combination of your juices and his spit— his fingernails leaving crescents in your thighs from where he held you tight.
When he looked up at you from between your thighs, his gaze would be equal parts hungry and sweet. He wanted it to feel good for you because the more you get off, the better it felt for him too. When he felt you getting closer and closer, he moved his fingertip to your entrance, teasing you with featherlight grazes that gathered your essence. He pressed in, just to his first knuckle, and relished in the way you would clench around him at the smallest intrusion before he gave it to you entirely.
Despite the shitty quality of the phone, which was probably your fault, since you had owned it since at least ‘78, you could hear the slick sounds of him stroking himself to your words. And, for once, you relished in that noise across the line.
You pushed a finger inside of yourself, then a second. Most guys you’d been with got that far then jammed them in and out at a wrist-killing speed until you faked it. Your thing was always just keeping them still, pressing against the sweet spot just barely a few inches inside. Paired with the dizzying pleasure of attention to your clit, the sensation was electric and all-consuming.
It felt too good to stop, and yet you knew you needed to make it through your fantasy before you came and that precious euphoria rushed over you. Because after the euphoria came that strange sense of disgust, and you couldn’t really afford to spend the rest of the call grossed out by what you were doing.
“Fuck, anyways,” you began, your breath coming in short pants. “He— you— would take off your shorts.” Stupid, tiny, tight shorts. “And, fuck, you’d already be so hard and needy. You just wanted me so bad. You would press me against the shelf and when you push into me it’d be so easy and slick and I’d feel so full.”
Your cunt pulsed around your fingers, so close to the edge that you could almost swear you were already over it. The precipice was so nice you almost didn’t mind waiting for it. You would hear Steve fucking his hand, pretty moans and grunts passing his lips as he brought himself closer. It wasn’t really fair to leave either one of you hanging much longer.
“You’d kiss me. And it would be a little messy, but we wouldn’t care. You’d taste good, and you’d feel good. Fuck, Steve. I need to cum so bad.”
He panted into the phone and you practically mewled. God, he sounded so much better than the gross old men you usually had to deal with. “Fuck, I’m right here with you,” he managed, his voice breathy and desperate. “Let me hear you.”
Your ears rang as you came, making the world go a bit fuzzy. Distantly, you could hear how pretty Steve sounded as he came. Honestly, you’d never been one to relish in that type of thing— most guys you’d hooked up with kind of grossed you out. But, god, you’d give anything to watch him get off. Your chest heaved, rising and falling with a shiny sheen of sweat.
“So…” Steve began, sounding a little more languid and a lot more blissed out. There was a sweet, carefree quality to his voice. “Your fantasy is having sex at work?”
You rolled your eyes and fought a grin. “Hey, I didn’t judge your hot, sweaty poolside fuck session.”
”That was about making love,” He insisted. Your heart stuttered a bit. You had to admit that was sweet. “And I’m not knocking your fantasy— I just can’t even imagine someone wanting to have sex with me in my uniform.”
You grinned. “Aw, you have a uniform? I bet you look really sexy in it.”
He huffed, an annoyed groan escaping his lips. “No, I hate my uniform and I’m counting the days until I can rip it off and throw it in, like, a bonfire.”
“I can help with the ripping it off part, y’know,” you teased.
“No,” he said firmly. “No, we’re not going there, because, one, I came so much I can’t even think about getting hard again or my dick will hurt, and two, if I start having workplace fantasies about you and my uniform I’ll get hard on the job and end up on a registry somewhere.”
“Alright, alright,” you said with a laugh. “I had fun tonight, Steve. I, uh, don’t really get a lot of people asking what I like. I don’t get anyone asking what I like, actually.”
“Well, what can I say? I’m just a pleaser, I guess.”
He said his goodnights just before hanging up, promising to call again soon. You didn’t have a clear idea of when soon was. You’d had long-term customers promise a call soon that just dropped off the face of the earth. You laid there listening to the dial tone until it started to hurt your ears, then put the phone back on the receiver.
The bed creaked on its ancient springs as you got up, padding out into the hallway. Outside the big window at the end of the hall, you saw a lamp switch off across the street, making the house go dark. It felt a little comforting to know that boring old Hawkins was awake just like you were.
In the bathroom, you washed your hands with cotton candy-scented soap and tugged at your misbehaving curls. Maybe you would take up Steve on his hair tips. Before you could think about Steve any longer, your phone rang again. And though part of you wished it would be Steve, you knew that there was such a thing as too soon to be ‘soon.’
There wasn’t really a point in pouting. It was decent money. You answered the phone, put on your fake voice, and got to work.
Steve called nearly nightly for the next month. If having a backyard school wasn’t proof enough he was loaded, his ability to pay your rates nightly sealed the deal.
It wasn’t always sexual. Well, to be fair, it was mostly sexual. No matter how much you looked forward to phone sex with Steve, you enjoyed talking to him just as much. You learned about his childhood dog, Walter, and his allegedly prodigy-like swimming skills. He was CPR certified, could say his ABCs in French (and nothing else), and loved the colors red, yellow, and blue.
You told him what you could without giving too much away. That Jenny, obviously, wasn’t your real name. Your favorite color, favorite book, favorite flower. You told him that you were in college, going back in the fall. That you only started doing this gig because textbooks were expensive and you wanted to be able to feed yourself while at school.
Without meaning to, you started to care about Steve. It was probably stupid, and definitely against everything you thought you stood for. But somehow, he managed to squeeze into the recesses of your brain and set up camp there. Try as you might, you couldn’t get him out of your mind.
“Alright, little Stevie, that’s your fifth wistful sigh of the day,” Robin said, marking a tally on her palm. It struck him as weird that she was counting, but it wasn’t exactly anything new. “You’ve gotta stop or I might actually start feeling bad for you.”
His chin rested in his hand, and he looked over at her with wide puppy dog eyes. “Can you love someone you’ve never met?”
Robin shrugged. “I dunno. Probably not, why?”
He sighed again, his shoulders sagging. “What if my dream girl isn’t exactly accessible? Like… she’s impossible to find and might not even live in Hawkins. She might live in, like, Indianapolis.”
Robin’s expression— the slight squint of her eyes and downturn to her lips— told him she didn’t particularly care. But the store was dead on a boring Tuesday, so digging into Steve’s life was about the only interesting thing to do on the job.
“That sucks,” she said slowly. “How do you know this mystery soulmate?”
Steve blanched, picking at his nails as he tried to consider a reasonable excuse. “Uh… Blind setup. Very blind setup.” Robin raised an eyebrow. “I only know her number, nothing else.”
“Name?” Steve shook his head glumly. “Damn. But you think you love this girl?” Steve nodded again, but felt a little dumb. He never did things in half-measures. Never felt things that way either, so it made sense to him, but maybe it was a little crazy.
He just couldn’t stop thinking about you. He wanted to help you with your bad perm and give you advice about how to take care of it. He wanted to surprise you at your boring job with lunch and flowers. It had been a long time since he’d been this excited about someone.
A tinny beeping sound made him jolt, nearly slipping on the freshly mopped floor. Finally. He didn’t hesitate to tear off his work shirt, leaving him in the shorts and the white tee shirt he kept beneath it for this very reason— not having to walk out in public in full uniform.
He offered a quick bye to Robin and clocked out as quickly as he could. It had been only a week since Jenny had told him her favorite book, and he’d been saving up tips to pay for a copy at Waldenbooks.
There was a girl behind the counter with a messy ponytail that had half-fallen-out, music blaring from her headphones. It must’ve been a mixtape because it went from some Hall and Oates song to an older Queen one. A little disjointed, but not in bad taste. She was completely immersed in the novel in her hand, so much so that she didn’t notice his presence.
“Excuse me?” He asked, putting on a winning smile.
“What?” The girl in front of him blinked in surprise and tugged the headphones down around her neck. The music continued— saxophone and a dance beat. Staying Power. He liked that one. Once she’d paused it abruptly, she looked at him again, and he saw a glint of something in her eyes, like she recognized him.
“I’m looking for this book—“ He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket, where he had scribbled the title down as Jenny told him about it. “Do you know if it’s in stock?”
She looked at the note, then chewed on her lip anxiously. “Mhmm.” She watched him again, like she was expecting something. It took a moment, but it clicked.
She’s the girl who bumped into him outside a month ago and said weird stuff! “Oh! You were right, I guess. About seeing me around.” He squinted, reading her name tag aloud.
“Hm?” She blinked a few times, like she was taken out of a daydream. “Oh. Yeah, sorry about all of that. I just had a long day and my brain was fried.”
He nodded. “I get that,” he replied. “Next thing I know I’ll wake up from scooping ice cream in my sleep.” She laughed at that, a smile splitting across her features. “I’m Steve, by the way.”
Her expression faltered, just the tiniest bit. Almost enough that he wouldn’t notice, especially since she corrected it just as quickly. “I’ll go grab that book for you, ‘Kay? Just… stay here.”
She disappeared into the shelves, leaving him standing awkwardly at the counter. The store was oddly empty— he would’ve at least expected some nerdy kids like Dustin to be rooting around. When she returned, she seemed more nervous than before.
“Here, just take it—“ She said, shoving a beat-up-looking copy at him. His brows furrowed as he looked down at the copy in his hands. The cover was bent and torn in places. Corners of pages were dog eared, sticky note tabs stuck out from pages, and he could see glimpses of pen and highlighter. Noticing his confusion, she elaborated. “We’re out, but I had an old copy in my bag. I’ve already read it, so you can borrow it.”
He furrowed his brows. “Is that, like… allowed?”
“Probably!” She said with a startling lack of confidence. She swallowed, giving him an awkward smile. “Just bring it back when you’re done.”
He hesitated. “Uh… okay. Thanks.” He turned to walk away when she called out after him.
“Bye, Steve.”
He wondered why that sounded so familiar.
Fuck.
“I mean… what are the odds?” You spoke aloud as you paced your room. When your reflection caught your attention, you felt, and looked, like a madwoman. “It’s not him. It’s not him, and I’m not going to worry about it.”
Five minutes later, you sat up in bed, unable to focus on the book you were reading. It was going to keep bothering you unless you did at least a little digging. But, Jesus, where did you even start with something like this?
“Hey, Rhonda?” You called, popping your head out of your room. “Do you remember any hot underclassmen named Steve from high school?”
Rhonda Finley was the prettiest girl from the class of ‘83. And it wasn’t an exaggeration either, seeing as she was voted Most Beautiful and Miss Hawkins within the same school year. The fact that you were even friends felt like a strange coincidence, but there you both were regardless.
She carried all of her yearbooks into your room, settling onto the fluffy rug beside your bed.
“You said his name is Steve?” She asked from her spot on the floor. She flipped through the old yearbook with reverence— pausing to look at photos of herself on other pages. “Steve… stevestevesteve. What about Stephen Cranston? He did the morning announcements, he was decent.”
You glanced at his picture briefly and shook your head. “No, not him,” you replied. “He’s cuter. Uh… boyish is a good word to describe him. Sharp nose and warm eyes.”
Rhonda snorted, flipping another page. “Okay, Shakespeare.”
You chewed on your lip, watching her tab through until you made a squeak of recognition. The faintest glimpse of a younger Steve in a picture of a home economics class. “Ronnie, flip back,” you said, tapping her shoulder insistently. She did as you said and you pointed. “That’s him. Younger, but it’s him.”
She squinted, reading the small caption. “Sophomore Steve Harrington cooks up trouble in Mrs. Destefano’s Home Ec class!’” She laughed and flipped until she found the sophomore class portraits. “Yep. Steven Harrington.”
You sat back on your heels. “Huh.”
She closed the yearbook and glanced back at you. “I think I went to a pool party of his once,” Ronnie said, brows furrowed as she tried to find the memory. “He was friends with that freckle-y kid that my asshole ex was friends with. God, that was the night when we got into that screaming match and we broke up for like a month before he was begging for another chance.”
Pool party? You felt a knot in your stomach that you weren’t even sure you could have untangled at that point. Was it even possible that your mystery cute phone guy was the unbelievably attractive ice cream scooper at the mall?
No chance. You weren’t that lucky. And yet… maybe a seed of hope took root in your chest. And maybe… maybe you could get him to spill enough details to prove it.
——
Steve called you around midnight. Your heart leapt into your throat as you answered, thrumming and threatening to burst from nerves.
“Hey.” His voice was soft, a little tired. “I, uh, thought about you today.”
You could picture him so clearly— his soft hair, long legs, boyish charm. “Hope I wasn’t too distracting. Were you working today? What do you do?” You dug a little deeper with the question, trying to suss out any information you could.
“Yeah,” he replied with a sigh. “I work in food service at a mall I live near. It’s nothing to write home about, I guess, but it’s temporary until I start applying for the spring semester.”
Okay, so there’s no doubt about it anymore. It was Steve Harrington, the hot ice cream scooper in the sailor suit, who was calling your line every night. The same Steve Harrington who you’d bumped into twice after your shift.
You tried to push that aside and focus on the reason for the call.
“So I was a welcome distraction, then?”
He laughed. “I can’t imagine a world where you aren’t.” He paused. “Did you, uh… think about me?”
The hope in his voice made your heart swell. “Of course I thought about you, baby. You’re my favorite caller.” You paused, debating your next move. “I’ve been thinking about getting you all needy and desperate for me all day. About hearing your pretty sounds.”
He fucking whimpered. “I’ve spent the entire night hard just waiting to call you.” You could hear him shuffle around on the other end of the call, presumably stripping off his remaining layers. “Didn’t want to be too desperate and call too fast.”
“Poor baby,” you cooed. “Can you do something for me? It’ll feel so good, I promise.”
“Mhmm.”
“Grab a pillow and lay on your stomach for me,” you instructed. Without hesitation, you could hear the staticky sound of movement on his end as he shifted. “This might sound weird, but—“
“You want me to… to like—“ he stammered nervously. “Hump it?”
You blanched, wondering if your perverse fantasies of the hot mall guy getting off had perhaps pushed him a bit too far. “I mean…. Only if you’re into it. We can do something else.”
“No,” he said quickly. “No, I’ve… I mean— I’ve done it before.”
Oh. Butterflies buzzed around your tummy as you let yourself indulge in the mental image. “Yeah? Did it feel good?”
“Mhmm,” he hummed. You could hear rustling on the phone, like he was trying to situate himself comfortably. “Just made a mess is all.”
Fucking hell. “You gonna make a mess for me tonight, then?” You asked, twirling the phone cord around your finger. He moaned in response, and you grinned. “Aw, did you already get started, sweetheart?”
He moaned out a confirmation and you grinned, letting your free hand trail down your belly and beneath the waistband of your panties. “You already sound so pretty, Steve. So good for me, doing exactly what I say.”
The breathy sounds of his pants and moans made slickness gather between your thighs. Sounded like he hadn’t been lying about being hard and desperate all night just anticipating the call. “We’re not gonna talk tonight, we’re just gonna listen to each other,” you told him.
Maybe it was unfair to him that you had the perfect mental image of him in your head since you already knew what he looked like. You relished in that knowledge as you coated your fingers in your wetness and rubbed small circles around your clit.
Steve was loud, which made you wonder if his neighbors hated him. If you had to live next door to Steve Harrington and his pornstar moans, you’d probably go crazy. You were going crazy just from being on the other end of the phone. You were louder than usual too— it was a miracle that Rhonda worked nights.
It wasn’t long before you both finished— gasping and moaning into the phone’s receiver. You sighed as you laid back against your pillows, completely sated and content as you listened to Steve’s shaky breaths.
“How’re you feeling?” You asked, fighting the desire to twirl your hair around your fingers.
“Good,” he said finally. “Gonna have to do laundry, wash my sheets. I probably needed to anyway.” He paused. “I picked up a copy of that book you were talking about. It’s actually funny, ‘cause they were out of copies apparently, but the girl behind the counter let me have hers. Like it was meant to be, or something.”
Your heart hammered. “That’s really sweet, Steve,” you said softly. “I’m sorry in advance if you hate it.”
“I won’t!” He insisted. “I read the first couple of pages while I waited to call. I’m not the best reader, though. Might take me a while to finish it, but I do like it so far.”
You were partially convinced that you were in love with Steve Harrington, despite the fact that he wouldn’t even recognize you on the street. “This might be… I mean, maybe it’s crossing a line, and I could totally get fired for even suggesting… but—“ You hesitated. Fuck it. “I want to give you my personal line. So you don’t have to pay to talk to me. It’s not fair if we’re both enjoying the conversations but only one of us is paying, you know?”
He was quiet, almost too quiet. Nerves stirred in your belly. “Is that… you know, okay?”
“Yeah, I’d like that,” he said quickly. “Let me just grab a pen.”
You couldn’t help but stare longingly down into the atrium of the mall, where Steve Harrington was sweeping crumbs off of one of the booths inside Scoops Ahoy.
“Hello?” A kid snapped his fingers a few times and you swallowed down your annoyance as you turned. “We called earlier about Ender’s Game. The guy on the phone said he’d hold three copies. It’s under Mike.”
You glanced behind you, where the books clearly weren’t. Fuck Greg for making your menial job even worse. “It must’ve slipped his mind. I can grab those for you.” The kid made a bitchy face as you stepped away from the counter and you bit your tongue to keep from saying something rude. Fucking latchkey kids.
When you returned with three copies of the book, you looked at the kids skeptically. “By the way, if you stole any of the pencils or bookmarks, my boss is going to take it out of my paycheck and I won’t be able to feed my kids.”
“It costs thirty cents to feed your kids?”
You sighed and rang them up, but they continued to loiter in the shelves while you pretended to be busy.
“There’s nothing to do,” one of them said after picking up a copy of Sports Illustrated briefly. “We should just go back to my house and play Atari.”
A red-haired girl rolled her eyes. “Lucas, we’re not playing Pong again.” She paused and glanced down towards the food court. “We could go see Steve.”
It took all your willpower not to react.
“Why do you always want to go see Steve?” Lucas asked. “It’s not like you have a boyfriend or anything.”
“She just wants to see him because she’s got some weird crush on him,” the bitchy one said. Mike? The red-haired girl blushed nearly as fiery as her hair and shoved Mike hard. “What? We all know it. You and El are always drooling over him. It’s weird.”
“He’s nice, okay? Way nicer than you are, asshole.” She shoved past the group and left on her own, leaving the other two guys to scramble after her. One kid was left behind, the one with the unfortunate bowl cut. He offered a wave before he followed after them.
When they got downstairs, you watched him greet the redhead with a smile and a ruffle of her hair. Lucas and the bowl-cut kid got a slap on the back, and the bitchy one got a half-smile that wasn’t returned.
Then he shelled out free ice cream, which was evident because none of them made a move to pay.
After they left, you watched him reach into his own wallet and cover the cost, placing the bills carefully into the cash register.
The rest of your shift was spent fawning over Steve and flipping through issues of the magazines you had on display. You felt idiotic gazing at Steve Harrington with puppy dog eyes while reading Top Ten Ways to Know if He’s Really Into You! Of course he wasn’t into you— he didn’t even know who you were, not really.
Around two in the afternoon, you were snapped out of your reverie by the sight of Steve walking through the threshold of the shop, looking around the shop before his gaze settled on you and lit up in recognition.
“Hi!” He said, nearly knocking over a carefully displayed unofficial biography of Reagan on his way over. You smiled, straightening your posture as he approached. “I wanted to thank you for the book.”
Your heart thumped. “Oh, you don’t need to thank me,” you insisted. “I just wanted to help.”
He reached into the pocket of his uniform and pulled out two coupons to Scoops Ahoy with a flourish. They advertised free ice cream in the nautical scrawl. “Does this change your mind?” He raised his brows and smiled smugly.
You rolled your eyes and grabbed them, reading the fine print. Valid only at the Starcourt Mall location on weekdays between 8am and 11am. Offer not valid in conjunction with any other deals. Offer excludes banana splits, sundaes, and the U.S.S. Butterscotch.
“Maybe,” you replied. “Is free ice cream your thing or something? I saw you give that group of kids free sundaes earlier.”
He furrowed his brows, considering it, then grinned. “Are you watching me?”
Fuck. You spluttered, shaking your head as you fumbled through a response. “No. They were here first, then talked about going to see you, and then I just…” He laughed and leaned over the desk slightly, as if testing the view.
“Oh, yeah. Perfect view from here.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the heat burning in your cheeks. “So you come here to thank me with shitty coupons, and then you accuse me of spying on you?”
He shook his head as he leaned back. “Hey, it’s not accusing you if it’s true.” He was so smug. “Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair. See you around?” He looked at you expectantly until you nodded, face burning hot. He smiled, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked out casually like he hadn’t just totally caught you creeping on him.
God, you were going to make him pay for that later.
——
Steve paced around his room as he tried to gain the courage to call you. He would have liked to say that he needed to get your number from his Rolodex, but he’d memorized it nearly the moment he put it down on paper.
He was thinking of you, but he was also thinking about the girl from the mall who seemed to keep popping up. There was something about her, the way he was drawn to her, the way she spoke, the way she looked at him. It was all so familiar and easy, like they’d known each other forever.
He didn’t know how to feel about that.
Finally, he settled on his bed, dressed only in a thin white tank top and boxers that were a size too big since he stopped working out as much. With nerves buzzing in his ears, he dialed your number and waited.
And waited. And waited. He swallowed hard, wondering if you’d given him a fake number just to be rid of him. The number went to the answering machine, and his mouth went dry.
“Hi! You’ve reached Y/N Y/L/N. I’m out right now, but leave your name and number at the beep and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” A beep sounded and Steve hung up suddenly. His stomach sank.
He wasn’t supposed to know your real name like that. It felt like some gross intrusion. And yet, he repeated it over and over again in his mind. Why did it seem so familiar?
On his nightstand, the beat up paperback he had borrowed stood out like a sore thumb. Oh. The book, the same book you, Jenny, had told him about. And the girl who worked there… Y/N.
It was too much, far too much to be a coincidence. He grabbed the book and opened it to look at the inside cover, where your name, Jenny’s name was scrawled inside. Because you and Jenny were the same person.
Every single conversation leading up to that point played over in his mind. The messy perm, the shitty job with the ugly polo, the fantasy about being pushed against the shelves and fucked. Oh, God. And you were totally spying on him.
It should’ve been an absolute win for him, but his stomach turned as he glanced over at the phone on the receiver. You were gorgeous and funny and smart and so sexy. Why would you want to be with someone who needed to call a sex hotline?
He could just picture the look on your face when you discovered that the guy who worked in the stupid uniform at Scoops was so pathetic that he needed to call someone to get attention.
He swallowed hard, guilt and doubt settling icy in his stomach. He put the book down, and didn’t call back.
——
Steve was sulking during his shift. Probably biting the heads off of a few too many kids who asked for a few too many samples.
“Jesus, how many times do you need to try cotton candy?” He snapped as he dug out a tiny spoonful of the pink and blue ice cream. The kid furrowed his brows up at him, puzzled by the sudden outburst.
“Uh, can I try Cherries Jubilee next?” He asked hesitantly.
Steve exhaled slowly through his nose. “No, you’re done. Out.”
The kid rolled his eyes, swore under his breath, and stomped out of Scoops Ahoy.
Robin was staring at him funny when he turned around, a mix of curiosity and amusement. “You’re totally PMSing today.”
He couldn’t manage more than a scowl in response. “Shut up.”
Robin laughed and tossed a cherry at him, which he managed to catch before it splattered against the glass of the ice cream case. He hated maraschino cherries— the artificial sweetness and unnatural color. But, hey, he could tie a cherry stem into a knot with his tongue.
He hadn’t called you for three days, which felt like the longest stretch of time in his life. And he hadn’t even seen you around Starcourt, which was both a good thing and absolutely unbearable.
Part of him wanted to just jump on the escalator and see if you were sitting behind the counter at Waldenbooks, but he knew it was better to just have a clean break. Maybe in a few months, you’d forget about that Steve guy who’d called you and he could make his move then.
The shift change hit around lunchtime, and Steve prepared for the influx of people who were getting off work on empty stomachs. As he suspected, the line stretched out the door and he was practically up to his elbows in ice cream, mindlessly scooping flavor combinations that should’ve been illegal. Until—
“Hey, Steve,” you said, standing in front of him in your ugly work polo with messy hair half-fallen out of your ponytail. “Staying busy?”
He stammered nervously and mumbled out an unintelligible response. “Ice cream?” Was all that he could manage to ask, which made him want to throw himself into the fountain right in the middle of the food court.
But you just smiled. “A shake, actually. Chocolate banana if that’s possible.” He nodded and got to work, thankful for the distraction. Your eyes followed his every movement as he made your shake, but he couldn’t let himself look at you.
Because if he did really look at you, all he’d be able to think about were the phone calls you’d had— the calls where he’d heard you cum with breathy gasps and pants and soft whimpers. And— Jesus Christ— he was thinking about it and it made him feel dizzy.
He used a little bit too much whipped cream and put rainbow sprinkles on top for God knows why, but he handed it to you with a weak smile.
“Three bucks, right?” You asked, nodding to the menu.
“Uh, you can just have it,” he said without even thinking. “On the house.”
You furrowed your brows for a moment, but smiled brightly. “Really? Thanks, Steve. I appreciate it.” You took a sip and gave a soft moan at the flavor that made a full-body chill run through him. “See you around?”
“Yeah. See you.” You gave a small wave before you disappeared into the food court. He watched you the whole way, like you were the only person in the room.
Fuck. He was hard. Like, rock hard and the stupid apron on the uniform only made it more obvious. He’d fucking pavloved himself to get turned on just by your voice.
“Robin, I’m taking my fifteen,” he said, darting into the back before she could protest. He stepped inside the walk-in freezer and propped the door with a crate of waffle cones. After about five minutes, he felt like he could actually think again.
“Fuck,” He muttered under his breath. He had to call you again.
You were sincerely considering quitting the hotline. After Steve, just listening to the other guys panting and blowing their loads on the phone was nauseating. They didn’t care to learn more about you, not the way he did. They just wanted to get their rocks off to an anonymous, sexy voice.
Then again, Steve had disappeared too. Maybe giving him your real number had crossed a line. Maybe it freaked him out that you were taking it beyond a transaction. You sighed and wrapped yourself tighter in your house coat. Rhonda always kept the AC on overdrive in the summer, which meant you needed at least two blankets to be comfortable.
When the phone rang, you picked it up without thinking, half expecting it to be Rhonda calling you to check in during her break.
“Hey,” you said absentmindedly, leaning back against your pillows.
“This is, uh— this is the right number, right? It’s Steve.”
Your heart nearly burst out of your chest at the sound of his voice. “Hey, yeah, it’s the right number,” you assured. You wriggled out of your housecoat and tossed it to the side so you could get more comfortable. “How are you? It’s been a few days.”
He sighed. “Yeah, I, uh,” he paused. “I think I psyched myself out of calling you.”
“Oh,” you said softly. “Well, I’m glad you did call. I really missed you.”
“You did?”
You laughed, letting yourself get more comfortable. “Mhmm,” you replied. “I mean, we’ve been talking everyday for a while, you know?”
“I missed you too, couldn’t stop thinking about you, even at work.” You smiled, remembering how absentminded he had seemed when you showed up in the ice cream parlor. And he was thinking about you. Not you, but still you. “I— uh— had to walk into our deep freezer to cool myself off.”
“How long has it been for you?” You asked suddenly. “Like, since you’ve had sex.”
Steve chuckled nervously. “I dunno… two months?” He paused. “Is that lame?”
“Nuh-uh, baby,” you assured. “Think it’s sweet. No wonder you’re all needy all the time. You need a nice, tight, wet pussy to sink into, hm?”
A low moan escaped his lips. “God—“
“Better than your hand, isn’t it?” You teased. “I bet you’re so desperate that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time, even before you called me. Isn’t that right?”
The closest thing you got in response was another pretty moan. “You’re big too, aren’t you?” You mused aloud, not even waiting for a response. “I know you are, you’ve basically told me in not so many words. Most girls can’t handle that, baby. It’s not your fault. That’s okay, we could take it slow, you could get me all nice and stretched for you, take your time like the gentleman you are.”
“Fuck— fuck—“ His words came out choked and desperate. You could almost picture it— the way he’d be fucking up into his hand, needing more and more.
“I bet you always have to take it real slow, huh? Gotta be careful so you don’t hurt someone. But that just means you can feel everything better, doesn’t it? Inch by inch by inch, every flutter and squeeze. And you can see on their faces how good it feels, can’t you? You can watch their eyes roll back and their mouths fall open while they cry out for you. I mean, Jesus, Steve, I bet most girls come before you’re even all the way inside.”
His hand sped up, desperate and needy, just as you’d said. You could hear it with each wet slap of skin against skin. His moans were constant, a stream of yesahgodfuckohshitahyesahfuckfuckfuck— until the prettiest moan escaped his lips, all low and deep, and you knew he’d made a pretty mess of himself.
“Bet that felt really nice,” you said while he panted on the other end of the line.
He made a weak noise, then finally managed a, “Uh-huh. Fuck.”
You laughed softly. “That’s gotta be the fastest I’ve gotten you off,” you said finally. “I like having that much power over you. It turns me on so much.”
He groaned. “Fuck, give me five— no— ten minutes. I can barely breathe right now.”
You grinned, relishing in your ability to torture him a bit after he’d teased you at work. Unknowingly, of course, but still. “I dunno if I can wait that long, Steve… I’m so wet that my thighs are all sticky.”
“God, you’re killing me.”
You couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatics. “Why don’t you lay there and listen to me? Be good and keep your hands off, alright? You already came, so don’t get greedy.”
He made a nearly pained noise. “Fine. Fine.”
A smirk spread across your lips as you let your hand move between your thighs. Really, you weren’t exaggerating that much— you found yourself slick and needy when you finally slid your panties down your thighs. Actually, you thought you’d probably have to be a statue to hear Steve Harrington panting and cumming over the phone and stay unaffected.
You could hear his breath catch with every soft moan and whimper, and maybe you got mean and held the phone near your tummy, so he could hear just how wet and messy you’d gotten as you steadily fucked yourself with your fingers. When you got desperate enough, you held the phone against your ear once more.
“I dunno, Steve… I don’t think my fingers can cut it,” you said, exaggerating the pouty tone of your voice. “I wish you were here to take care of me.”
He groaned, low and muffled. You had a feeling he’d thrown an arm over his face. “You’re so unfair.”
A smile spread across your lips at his words. “No, baby. What’s unfair is that I’m laying here all alone, feeling so empty and needy, and you’re not here to make it all better.” You reached into your nightstand, pulling out the dildo you’d bought for your twentieth birthday. “‘S okay, I can take care of myself just fine. You ever been to a sex shop?”
It got quiet on the line, and you could nearly hear the gears turning.
“N-no.”
You raised a brow. “Really? But you know what they sell, don’t you?” You paused until he hummed a soft uh-huh. “It’s only fair that I get to use a toy to fill myself up since you can’t do it for me, right?”
“Y-yeah, wanna hear you do it.”
You grinned. “Patience, baby. Gotta get it wet first so it glides in nice and easy.”
Blowing a rubber dick wasn’t how you’d envisioned ending your day, but— what can you say?— spontaneity is the spice of life. You made sure he heard every wet pass of it between your lips, every exaggerated gag as you took it into your throat, the messy smack of your lips. It tasted like a tire and dish soap, but the desperate, restrained sounds he was making made it all worth it.
Your eyes were watery when you finally pulled the toy from your mouth, certain you’d adequately worked him up for the time being. Plus, you were worked up just as much, if not more— you wanted to just fuck yourself into oblivion already.
Instinctively, your thighs fell farther apart as you moved the toy between your legs. You let the tip tease your entrance, only a little, before you began to push it inside. A soft moan fell from your lips as you finally got the nice, full feeling you’d been dreaming of.
You laid there for a moment, letting your body adjust to it, reveling in it. With your free hand, you slowly circled your clit until your cunt fluttered around the intrusion.
“Feels so nice,” you sighed, lips brushing against the mouthpiece of the phone. You felt drunk and hazy with desire. “Like I’m so close already that I can taste it.”
“Make yourself come for me,” he practically begged. “Wanna hear it.”
You moaned at his words, but shook your head. “Can’t yet. I wanna make this last.”
Time felt a little hazy as you kept working the toy in and out, slow and deep. Occasionally, you’d brush against your clit just right, or the toy would find a nice spot inside of you, and your entire body would tremble with need.
Steve’s breath came in pants over the phone, but you couldn’t tell if he had broken and actually started to touch himself. You kind of hoped he did, even if you wouldn’t say it.
Eventually, you came without warning— the build-up of it all made it impossible to avoid. Once you started over that edge, you couldn’t crawl back even if you’d wanted to. Moans fell from your lips as you succumbed to your orgasm; every nerve was like a live wire. When it finally came to be too much, you slipped the toy out and relaxed onto your bed with a contented sigh.
“Are you still alive?” You asked, quiet crackling over the phone.
“Uh… yeah,” he replied, a little distracted. “Have you ever come without having to touch yourself?”
You laughed softly. “Once. I read in Cosmo that some girls can get off just from playing with their tits. Took a while, but I eventually got there. Why?”
“I just, uh… listening to you, all the noises and hearing how wet you were… I guess that was all it took.” He sounded so embarrassed, but it was the cutest fucking thing you’d ever heard. You could imagine it so clearly, his cock pulsing against his twitching stomach, cum making puddles around his navel.
“That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard,” you said with a smile. “You’re probably exhausted, huh?”
He laughed a bit. “A little, but I can stay up and talk, if you’re free.”
Ever the gentleman, Steve stayed up another hour to talk about whatever you could think of to keep the conversation running. The new collection at The Gap, whether or not he planned to see Back to the Future, his favorite music got him talking for half an hour at least. Finally, you were yawning and beat.
“Steve, baby, I should go to sleep,” you said, almost apologetically.
“That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You froze, brows furrowing. “What?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeated, sleepily. “At the mall.”
“Um… night,” you said quickly, panicking slightly as you hung up the phone.
Steve had mopped the same spot on the floor five times during his shift, all while sparing fleeting glances towards Waldenbooks, where you were immersed in a magazine or a book. Always doing anything but looking down at him.
Which was good… maybe? He couldn’t quite decide.
He hadn’t been thinking when he said that on the phone. But he was sleepy, and his brain was a little foggy, and then he’d gone and doubled down.
As soon as he hung up the phone, he remembered that he had given his real name, and you knew he worked in food service, and you knew he wore a stupid uniform. That narrowed it down really easily.
So he spent his shift in a constant state of dread and panic, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
By the time the mall was closing, he had occupied himself with wiping down tables. He let Robin head home and pulled out his Walkman to keep him company. Since working at Starcourt, he made a pretty sick collection of tapes that wound up in the lost and found. This one was a metal mix, which typically wasn’t his thing, but was growing on him.
He didn’t realize you were standing over him until you rapped twice on the table, drawing his eyes up, up, up until they were locked with yours. He scrambled to pause the tape and stand up, adjusting his stupid uniform as an embarrassed blush grew on his cheeks.
“Hi,” you greeted. Your Waldenbooks vest hung loosely on your form, right on top of a pink polo.
“Hi,” he echoed. It was quiet for a second, as he tried to think of what to say, and as you scrambled for the words you’d been practicing all day. “I’ve known it was you for a while.” The words escaped him before he could stop himself, and then he just stared at you, completely mortified.
You laughed, covering your face for a moment as heat flooded your cheeks. “You knew? I didn’t even— I mean, I didn’t realize. Because I knew it was you calling. For a while, actually.
He grinned, leaning forward. “So… the guy you said you wanted to… against the shelves…?” When you ducked your head and looked away, he smiled like the cat who got the cream. “No way. You were totally perving on me, even before!”
“You had to walk into a deep freezer to cool off because you were thinking about me, perv.” He laughed, and you wanted to kiss him so badly it freaked you out a little. “So… What do we do now? I mean, now that you know who I am, and I know who you are, and we’re going to keep running into each other.”
Your poor cuticles were going through the wringer— red and stinging where you picked at them due to nerves. There was nothing you wanted more than for him to just sweep you into his arms like some kind of fairytale and promise his undying devotion. Or just say he wanted to date you. Whichever.
“I could take you on a date,” he said sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “I mean, if your type is total pervs who spend most of the week in sailor uniforms.”
Oh, you had plans for that sailor uniform. You stepped forward and planted a kiss on his cheek. “I think you just might be in luck.” He turned his head, just slightly, so he could capture your mouth with his.
The kiss was sweet, at first. Slow brushes of his lips against yours. They tasted sweet, like he’d been wearing lip smackers or something. Or maybe he’d been sneaking samples of the ice cream. He pulled you closer and you gasped, offering him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moaned softly at the feeling of your tongue licking against his.
He picked you up easily, sitting you down on the table he should’ve been cleaning. Your legs wrapped around his waist, your arms around his neck. It was easy to lose yourself in the hungry, desperate way Steve kissed. You could’ve stayed right there in the middle of Scoops making out with him until the mall opened in the morning, and still not have found the motivation to stop.
A bright light startled you back into reality, shining directly in your faces. You and Steve squinted in the general direction, as Starcourt security stomped your way.
“Hey! Get the fuck home,” He shouted, with equal amounts of exasperation and annoyance. He clicked off the flashlight and walked away with a huff and an eye roll, leaving you and Steve alone.
Steve’s cheeks were flushed pink with embarrassment as he stepped back, but he still wore a dopey grin on his lips. You hopped off the table and adjusted your skirt with a light laugh.
“That was nice,” You said as you tucked a loose curl behind your ear. “I should leave you to it, I guess. Before we both end up in mall jail.”
He shook his head quickly. “No! I mean, you could hang out here until I’m done. I just have a few more tables to clean and chairs to stack, if you want to—” He trailed off, looking at you expectantly.
A sly grin spread across your features. “What? Are you trying to go home with me or something?” He stammered nervously, that same, cute blush growing on his cheeks. Before he could say anything, you took a step closer and peered up at him. “Because if you are, I might tell you that my roommate works nights at Hawkins General, and we’d have it conveniently all to ourselves.”
He swallowed, then nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do.”
You sat in the booth nearest to the entrance of the parlor, flipping through a magazine you’d grabbed from work. Occasionally, you’d sneak tiny peeks of Steve bent over a table to wipe it down, uniform stretched tight over his ass, and grin behind the pages.
He got everything locked up in what he claimed was record time, flashing a smile as he closed up shop behind the two of you.
”Do you work tomorrow?” You asked, as casually as possible as the two of you approached your cars in the employee lot.
“Yep. Afternoon shift,” he explained.
“I’ll drive you. We’ll carpool tonight.”
The car ride was relatively tame, a few stolen glances at stoplights at most. When you brought him inside the house, your phone was ringing off the hook. You apologized and ushered him into your room, where, true enough, the spare phone you used for the hotline was ringing nonstop.
“Sorry, let me just…” You grabbed the phone and hung it up once, before taking it off the receiver completely. “There. No interruptions.”
Steve grinned, surveying your room carefully. The set of pom-poms from high school on a shelf, a stack of Cosmopolitan magazines, the chair full of your laundry— fuck, you should’ve definitely taken a moment to speed clean before letting him inside.
“So… what do you say we pick up where we left off?” You stood on your tiptoes and pecked his lips chastely before guiding him towards your bed. As soon as he sat down, you wasted no time in crawling into his lap and kissing him with all of the pent-up frustration of weeks of phone calls.
You kissed him for so long you’d have to come up panting for air, before diving right back in. His hands— Jesus, you’d never noticed how big his hands were— were splayed out over your hips at first, but had moved down to grab your ass, encouraging each movement as you rocked against him.
Without breaking the kiss, you shrugged off your work vest, so it fell into a heap over the side of your bed. He pulled back, chest heaving slightly as he caught his breath. His lips were swollen from use and spit-slick. His eyes moved from the vest on the ground, then back to your eyes. A tiny laugh escaped you before you pulled off your top, then your bra.
“This still okay?” You asked, as you stood briefly and tugged down your denim skirt. The sound of your voice felt almost foreign in the quiet room, while he took in the sight of you in nothing but a pair of panties.
“God, more than okay,” he assured, before pulling you onto his lap for another heated kiss. This kiss was needier— you could feel it in the hungry way he licked into your mouth, and the feel of him hard beneath you. Tiny gasps pushed past your lips as you rocked against him just right.
He moved his hands from you only to pull off his work shirt, and the white shirt he wore beneath it. Your hands immediately went to his chest, running through the chest hair he’d hidden beneath the uniform. How the fuck did he manage to walk out of his house without being immediately pounced on by every woman in a five-mile radius?
He placed one final kiss on your lips before pulling back and meeting your gaze. As earnestly as you’d ever, he asked, “Can I go down on you?”
Yes. Fuck, yes. Oh my god, yes. “Sure, if you want to.”
He smiled wide. “Yeah? Just relax for me, alright?” He shifted the two of you, so you were lying on the bed and he was on top of you. He planted a chaste peck on your nose, and you wrinkled it in reaction.
You kissed him one, fleetingly, before letting him kiss down your chest and tummy. He parted your thighs and carefully positioned himself between them. You met his gaze and felt your stomach somersault. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the damp fabric of your panties.,
“Fuck,” he mumbled against you. “You’re soaking for me, huh?” And there was that cocky grin you’d seen at the mall before. You had to lie back and put a hand over your eyes, because if you thought about that fucking smug expression for too long, you’d cum untouched.
He ran his tongue over the fabric of your panties, tasting you through the saturated satin once, twice before he pulled them down your legs. And he fucking moaned like a man starved at the sight of you.
Heat burned in your cheeks as you felt him spreading you open, and at the slick, wet sounds of your own arousal. “You’re so pretty.” And then his tongue was on you, lapping up your juices, savoring all of you.
“O-oh, fuck—“ Your moan came out like a sob as his nose brushed against your clit, making your thighs tremble. He moaned against your cunt, nuzzling deeper like he couldn’t get enough.
In retrospect, he had brought up how much he loved eating pussy a lot on that first call. Your hips bucked slightly, torn between chasing the feeling and overstimulation. His lips would wrap around your clit and suck softly before he would go back to lapping at you, his tongue parting your folds and teasing your entrance.
“St-Steve!” You cried out, fingers tangling in his hair. The slightest tug on his locks made him moan against you, which made your toes curl.
Your moans became pitchy and breathless as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. All of your muscles were wound up tight, itching for release.
All it took was a little bit of eye contact and you were done for. You sobbed out a moan as he lapped up your release— each lap of his tongue sending electricity up your nerves. When he finally relented, you were shaking with aftershocks and giggling.
“Something funny?” He asked with a grin as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
You sighed and spared a glance over at him. “I’ve been dreaming of that happening since our first call.” He grinned as you pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips.
“Did it meet your expectations?” He asked, swallowing nervously as you shifted to accommodate your hand between the two of you. His eyes fluttered shut as your hand slipped beneath his work shorts and boxers to grasp his cock in your hand.
You gave a slow, experimental stroke of your hand and nodded. “Two thumbs up.”
He swallowed hard as you removed your hand to completely undress him, leaving you both completely naked. You spit into your hand and wrapped it back around his length, holding eye contact as you jerked him off.
There was something so surreal about the entire situation— having him beneath you, warm and pulsing and slick in your hand. Each time your thumb brushed along the head of his cock, he cried out with the prettiest moan.
“W-wait—“ he said quickly, a look of panic in his eyes. You stilled your hand as he looked at you, a pretty blush painting his cheeks. “I’m not gonna last.”
You bit your to keep from grinning like an idiot. “That’s okay,” you said with a smile. You reached into your bedside table and retrieved a condom. “Do you want to, uh, go all the way?”
He nodded quickly. “Yes. Yes, please.”
You tore open the packet and rolled the condom on. “How’s that feel? Alright?” He gave a dorky thumbs up, which made you laugh. You leaned down to kiss him once more and wondered if you’d ever get tired of that feeling.
You reached between the two of you and guided his tip through your folds, coating it in your arousal until you grew too needy and lined him up with your entrance. It was a stretch, even though he’d gotten you plenty worked up with his mouth. You sank down slowly, one hand splayed against his chest to keep you steady as you took in inch after inch.
The sounds that escaped him as you lowered yourself onto him were so pornographic you thought he should be the one working the hotline instead. Desperate panting moans slipped past his full lips as his hands clawed at your hips.
“Fuck,” he moaned, eyes half-lidded as he watched you. “That’s it. You can take it.”
The mouth on him. You moaned softly as you finally settled onto his lap and he was fully sheathed within you. You stayed still, letting your body adjust to and relish in how full you felt.
“You look so pretty right now,” he said, reaching up to brush a messy hair from your face. You laughed softly as your cheeks warmed, and a funny fluttering in your chest nearly stole your breath.
“Says you,” was all you could manage to say back. You were hyper-aware of the feeling of him within you, of each flutter of your walls around him.
You gave an experimental roll of your hips and his head fell back, against the pillows, exposing the column of his throat. You relished in the way he looked beneath you— debauched and needy.
It was easy and slow at first. Each time you moved, you would lower yourself back down slowly, letting him savor the feeling of you, warm and wet and needy. He groaned each time you settled back on his lap, eyes hooded with lust as he looked up at you.
You gave a lazy smile as you looked down at him, moaning each time his cock brushed against your sweet spot. “Can I go a little faster?”
He nodded, eager for whatever you could give him. Your nails raked against his chest as you began to ride him in earnest, the back of your thighs slapping against his as you bounced on his cock.
Your head fell back as you rubbed at your clit with your free hand. Soft moans spilled from your lips as you relished in the culmination of all of your fantasies. Because he was there, splayed out beneath you like a fucking pornstar, and you had him all to yourself.
His fingers dug into the plush of your hips as he began meeting your thrusts halfway, fucking into the heaven between your thighs.
Your eyes rolled back as he fucked himself deeper and deeper, stealing your breath with each thrust. “Close,” you practically squeaked out. Red marks stood out against the freckles skin of his chest where you searched desperately for purchase.
Steve’s hair was stuck to his forehead, tacky from exertion. “Need you to cum for me,” he managed between pretty moans. “Wanna feel you cumming around me.”
You whimpered at his words, riding him harder as your orgasm hit like a tidal wave. A fucked-out moan escaped you as you collapsed against his chest, hips weakly stuttering as Steve continued fucking up into you. With your pussy gripping him like a vise, he could only manage a few good thrusts before he came with a groan.
You laid there on top of him as you caught your breath, wearing a stupid, giddy smile as he traced mindless shapes onto your back. His face was buried in your neck, where he left sweet, wet kisses. After a while, you slid off of him and sighed, missing the way it felt when he was still buried inside of you. You did your best to clean yourself off with the towel hanging from your bedpost as Steve tied off the condom and tossed it in the bin.
“We’re not just…” Steve began once you were both comfortable in your bed. He let the words linger for a moment before he shook his head. “Never mind.”
You turned on your side to face him, adjusting your blankets for a bit of modesty. “We’re not just fucking? That’s what you’re asking, right?” He nodded quietly. “It was nice, but no, that’s not all I want.”
He grinned. “Yeah? You wanna be my girlfriend? I totally pulled a cougar.” His stupid grin made you roll your eyes, but you couldn’t keep a matching smile off of yours.
“You’re so annoying,” you said, not giving him a second to react before your lips were on his again. You pulled back and placed a chaste kiss on his lips.
In the morning, you woke up in his arms as sunlight crept through the window. You squinted at the sun, then back at him. “Still want me to drive you to work?”
“No way,” he said, muffled against the column of your throat. Soft kisses peppered against your skin, making you giggle and arch into him. “I’m calling in.”
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#stranger things x reader#stranger things smut#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things fanfic#steve harrington#okayyyy enjoy :)
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JADE I LOVE SINGLE MOM READER AND STEVE! 😭 If requests are open, could we see steve taking the two of them on a date? And lil man wants to hold steves hand but he’s a little shy to ask?
If requests are closed this is just a compliment for you 😘
thank u for requesting <3 mom!reader, 1k
This is far more nerve wracking than previous dates, Steve will admit. He’s never had to buy a girl two bouquets, either. It’s expensive. Probably worth it.
Steve leans against the doorframe, nervous and attempting to look the opposite. His knock was met with a called, “Coming, Steve!” and little else.
He’s wondering if he’s the victim of a mean prank when you finally open the door.
“Hi!” you greet, letting your mini me stumble out of the door before you. “Noah, say hi, baby.”
Noah looks up at Steve, smiles, and carries on down the steps.
“Hey, bud,” he says with a knowing laugh. “Hi, you,” he adds, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek.
“Are those for us? Noah, come back! Come back, Steve has a present for you.”
The flowers he’d bought for Noah are small and maybe ridiculous, he doesn’t know. Noah’s a little boy, and he’s sure some parents might give Steve a funny look for it, but it hadn’t felt weird in the moment. You don't find it weird, clearly —you’re beckoning Noah back to your legs with a smile that practically sparkles, grabbing him up, and showing him the flowers. There’s something startled about you as you point to the smaller bouquet and say, “Oh, babe, look what Steve got for you. Aren’t they pretty? Where are we gonna put them?”
“You guys look nice, huh? That’s a gift for me, so, I figure, flowers,” he says, not awkward but definitely not smooth.
“Thank you, Steve.”
You take Noah’s bouquet and press it into his hands. “Say thank you,” you whisper nicely.
“Thank you,” Noah says.
Steve meets his eyes with a smile gentle as yours. “You’re welcome.”
“Would you wanna hold him?” you ask. “I’ll take the flowers inside. He’ll run down into the street otherwise, and if I take him back in he’ll want me to take off his shoes.”
Steve doesn’t know what he wants. He really likes your son and he doesn’t have any qualms in helping, but he’s terrified of dropping him, or holding him wrong and hurting him, or making him cry being too close. He doesn’t want you to know that he’s scared of anything, so he shuffles your flowers into one arm and opens the other for Noah, who goes willingly. Steve’s surprised at how easily you move him, then again when Noah surrenders his flowers in the name of hugging Steve’s neck.
You laugh. Your smile makes him smile, and with the colours of the flowers glowing under your neck, you’re something from a movie. “Aw, babe, are you giving Steve a hug? You’re so nice! You’re lovely.”
“We’re best friends,” Steve says.
“We’re best friends,” you say. Best friends seems to be mom code for dating. “You’re just buddies. Don’t get it messed up, Harrington, I’m his favourite.”
You head back inside. Steve holds Noah close, realising with some awe that even though Noah’s a toddler, his back is barely bigger than Steve’s arm where it’s resting. He’s not heavy. He barely weighs anything at all when he sits like this with his legs either side of Steve’s ribs.
“Are you ready for our day out?” Steve asks him. “We’re gonna go rollerblading. Did mommy tell you? It’s a toddler disco, and then we’re gonna have pizza. Mom says you love pizza.”
“Yeah, an’ ‘ronis.”
“Yeah?” Steve asks, thrilled to be understood and to understand what he’s saying. “I’m gonna get you a huge pepperoni pizza, extra pepperoni. And mommy said you’re pretty good on your little rollerblades. That’s so cool.”
Noah maybe doesn’t get the last part, but it doesn’t matter. Steve’s tone is making him smile, and he hugs Steve’s neck with a surprising ferociousness.
“What did you say to him?” you ask, stepping back out of the door, closing it behind you. “He’s gone shy.”
“I just told him I was gonna buy him a pizza!” Splteve defends.
“No, it’s a good thing. It just means he’s feeling loved up,” you say, scratching the nape of Noah’s neck.
“Oh. Good. That’s great.”
You nod knowingly. “Pretty great. My two best guys getting along.”
“I’m a best guy?” Steve asks.
You slot yourself into his side with a low lying confidence that has his heart like a hammer in his chest. “Best guy,” you confirm.
You’re unafraid when it comes to him, you have been since you met. You flirt, hug, even kiss without hesitation. And now Noah’s clinging to Steve like he’s known him for months, it’s nice. It’s pretty much everything he’s ever wanted, or the precipice of it, and he’s not going to get ahead of himself but he’s just happy to be liked without any holding back.
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, quietly but not shyly.
You pout obligingly, chin up, eyes shutting in total trust. Steve holds Noah away from you rather than have everybody smash their faces together and ducks down for a quick kiss that turns into two, the second of which is soft, and an attempt to show you what he’s feeling without saying it.
You pull away but bring your hand to his hair, threading your fingertips into the shorter strands by his ear. He’d like to think you’re saying the same thing he was.
“Mommy,” Noah says.
“Yeah, bub?” you ask, distracted where you brush Steve’s hair down.
“Kiss too?”
You lay your gaze on him with mirth. “Yes! Pucker up, Noah. Gonna give you the biggest one, and then we’re gonna have to get in the car before we miss toddler skate. Ready?”
You kiss him and tickle his tummy. Steve bites back a cheesy, awful grin. Two new best friends is a sweet deal.
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington#steve harrington fic#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington drabble#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fanfiction#stranger things
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EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI
Steve Harrington x Reader | Steve is on a mission to get you pregnant, as a thunderstorm rages outside… | Includes breeding kink, unprotected p in v sex (naturally lol) and mentions of drinking wine.
(This fic pairs well with a previous post ⛈️)
You were busy chatting away, all giggly and excited as you told Steve a funny story from work. You didn’t realize his attention had drifted far away from your words by the point his second glass had been emptied. Steve’s dark hazel eyes were focused on your lips, and the blush spreading your cheeks from the wine you were sharing…the pretty sound of your voice as you spoke, the way your animated gestures caused your breasts to jiggle over the top of your dress...
Steve distractedly pulled his fingertip along the edge of his wine glass, his eyes wandering up and down your face and body with a wolfish intensity he made no effort to hide. Steve’s main focus, as always, was on you. And tonight, with the promise of a storm rumbling nearer by the minute, it seemed that Mother Nature herself was beckoning Steve, practically begging him, to ask the question…
“Do you want a baby, (y/n)?” Steve asked. Your eyes widened, a bashful smile heating your cheeks. Steve already knew the answer to his question; you’d both discussed a mutual desire for children quite some time ago. Obviously, the two of you were having sex, and often. But you were still on the pill (when you remembered to take it, at least) and since the subject of actively trying to get pregnant hadn’t been seriously discussed, Steve was still pulling out each time he came.
Maybe it was the alcohol in his system, or the soft, pretty glaze in his eyes it had created, that made Steve’s suggestion especially tempting, exciting, almost dangerous…?
He was serious. And you knew it.
It’s how you ended up in bed less than ten minutes later, a mess of arms and legs tangled together, lips searching, craving one another with an intensity that rivaled the raging storm outside.
Steve had made his mission clear, through a series of slick kisses that tasted like you, climbing up your body from where his face had been nestled between your thighs: he was going to get you pregnant.
Your fingers clutched the edge of the mattress, nails digging crescent shapes into the foam. Steve’s breath was hot against your neck, raising goosebumps along your shoulders, the groans from between his lips thick and labored. The hair spread over Steve’s chest, moist and curled with sweat, rubbed coarsely against your back, stomach muscles taut where his body rounded yours, enveloping you.
Steve took you with both the soft, steady rhythm of making love, and the rough, selfish thrusts of a man wanting only to fuck you. The storm outside boiled over, a burst of white light illuminating the bedroom, the sharp crack of lightning briefly masking your cries of Steve’s name. The sweat on your skin glittered in the sudden light, which flickered like a dying bulb through the bedroom window. Steve dipped his forehead to your shoulder, his tongue pulling a quick stripe across your back, tasting your skin. You shivered at the contact of his warm, wet tongue, your clit throbbing in response to the stimulation.
Thunder rolled close by, vibrating the mattress Steve had you splayed against. His right hand slid beneath you and cupped your breast, groping you gently as his voice panted hot and breathy at your ear. “I’m so fuckin’ close, honey.” The weight of Steve’s balls slapped against your ass, heavy and full. Steve had so much cum to give you, enough to keep you dripping for days.
He exhaled against your shoulder, his voice focused, forehead creased in concentration. “Gonna feed this pussy so good tonight-” Steve murmured, his voice breaking softly. “-fuck a pair of twins inside you before morning…” Lightning erupted nearby, crackling loudly above the room. Steve’s growl of release was drowned out by the sound of the storm, his climax overtaking him as the room around you was splashed in light. Thunder rolled deep and slowly, drawing further and further away. Steve’s groans devolved into a low whimper of relief as his body softly crumpled into you, his wet lips finding yours from behind.
“Think we did it?” he asked, and you giggled a little, rolling onto your back so you were looking up at Steve. He didn’t quite understand, so you explained that it would likely take at least a few months of really trying, timing cycles, charting temperature, etc, before you’d actually get pregnant. “Well,” Steve shrugged, undeterred. “Even if it doesn’t happen tonight-.” He tugged your body into his chest, stroking back your hair with his hand. “-I sure as hell don’t mind practicing…” 💜
#stranger things#stranger things smut#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader#joe keery#steve harrington fanfic#steve stranger things#steve x y/n#steve x reader#steve x you#steve x reader smut#steve x you smut#steve x y/n smut#steve harrington x fem!reader smut#steve harrington x y/n smut#steve harrington x reader smut#steve harrington x you smut#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington oneshot#Steve Harrington fluff#steve fluff#fluffy smut#smut and fluff#soft dom steve harrington#soft dom Steve#boyfriend!steve harrington#husband!steve harrington
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episode three: the case of the missing lifeguard
You glance at your door, worried your mom has heard Steve’s pathetic fall, while he clutches at his knee and groans. Through gasps of pain, he manages to respond, “Give me a second to recover my pride, Y/N.”
“We need more than just a second to recover your pride.” You crawl out of bed and offer the boy your hand. “Get up, dummy.”
He accepts the help and stands, brushing himself off. “Your bed is freakishly high.”
“Have you ever considered that you’re just clumsy?”
“I’m an athlete, angel.”
Summary: dustin blackmails you for $5 and then dubs steve as boyfriend material for you, robin cracks yet another russian code, you all almost waterboard yourselves after sneaking onto the mall's roof, you have a sexy nervous breakdown, and jonathan takes you for a drive in his sick car
Rating: general, some swearing
Warnings: swearing, use of y/n, fem!reader
Words: 7k
Before you swing in: hi my loves !! had a hectic final week of classes but im finally done !! (technically i have one more final but thats a later issue). this chapter is a lot of banter and chaos and theres some sad feelings towards the end that im a bit frightened to see the reactions to so ,,,, enjoy !
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When your alarm goes off for work, Steve accidentally kicks you off of your bed in his panic.
“Fuck!”
Your brain barely has time to process that you’re awake as you begin to fall. “What–”
Steve manages to catch you from face planting just in time, flinging you back onto the bed as he struggles to untangle himself from the blankets. “Fuck! Sorry!”
“What’s going on?” you rub your eyes and realize that the screeching sound next to you is your alarm. Slamming your hand against it, the cloud of sleep starts to lift from your brain and you realize why Steve is a storm of chaos right now. “Oh, fuck.”
The two of you accidentally fell asleep together last night.
He never went home, he never snuck back out your window with a kiss farewell.
Now, as you take in the situation you’re currently in, you can hear your mother making breakfast in the kitchen, blissfully unaware that there’s a boy in her daughter’s room.
“Yeah, fuck!” Steve shakes at his leg, which is somehow twisted within your bedding and prevents him from escaping. “Get me out!”
“Shit!” You quickly untwist the bedding and free him, but as he rolls off your bed, he misjudges the height and fails to catch himself. He lands with a horrifyingly loud thud, and you throw a pillow at him. “Will you shut up?”
You glance at your door, worried your mom has heard Steve’s pathetic fall, while he clutches at his knee and groans. Through gasps of pain, he manages to respond, “Give me a second to recover my pride, Y/N.”
“We need more than just a second to recover your pride.” You crawl out of bed and offer the boy your hand. “Get up, dummy.”
He accepts the help and stands, brushing himself off. “Your bed is freakishly high.”
“Have you ever considered that you’re just clumsy?”
“I’m an athlete, angel.”
You place your hands on his chest and gently shove him towards your window. “Well, if you’re such an athlete, then it should be no problem for you to hop through this window and get to work, Harrington.”
“At least pretend you’re sad to see me leave–”
Someone knocks on your door. “Y/N? You awake yet?”
Hearing Dustin’s voice, you and Steve exchange a horrified look before you’re shoving even harder at his chest to get him out of your room. “Go!”
Steve stumbles over his feet and makes as much sound as humanly possible. He knocks into your desk and sends a stack of comics falling and he almost slips on them, only narrowly catching himself. Frustrated and bewildered that he keeps falling, he exclaims, “Why does this keep happening?”
The knocking on your door stops. A beat of silence passes before Dustin hesitantly calls through the door, “... did I just hear Steve?”
“No!” You almost throw Steve out your window with the force you shove him, which he curses at and gives you a dirty look, though you ignore him. He’s the one who got you into this fantastically horrible mess in the first place. “I–uh. I stubbed my toe!”
You anxiously wait for Dustin’s response, mentally running through all possible explanations in your head, but after a few minutes pass and you don’t hear anything; you exhale with relief. Seemingly sensing that you’re in the clear, Steve breathes out as well. “That was close.”
“Ew!” Your brother’s screech could rival the Demodogs with how loud and terrifying it is.
Gulping, Steve looks at you and laughs nervously. “Whoops?”
You glare at him. “Get out.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He kisses your forehead and does as he’s told, crawling through your window. Thankfully he lands gracefully this time, and as he begins running towards his car parked down the street, he calls over his shoulder, “See you after your shift!”
Despite your annoyance, you can’t help but laugh as you watch him run away. It’s reminiscent of the boyish charm you saw a few years ago, back when you had almost hit his car with your bike and he had pretended not to know your name in order to get you to laugh.
Your reminiscing is cut short by Dustin’s obnoxious groaning. “Oh, god. Why did it get quiet in there? Get off my sister!”
You march over towards your door and fling it open. Your brother stands there, a horrified look on his face, and you glance behind him to make sure your mom is still in the kitchen. When the coast is clear, you sneer at him, “Nothing happened!”
“I’m fourteen, not an idiot.”
“We didn’t do anything.” When Dustin snorts at you, disbelieving, you want to strangle the kid. You’re mortified and cannot fucking believe that your little brother thinks anything else happened between you and Steve. “I swear.”
“See, I’d believe you, but mom…” He shrugs with a smug look on his horrid face. “I don’t know, Y/N.”
You drop your head and sigh, knowing where this is going. “How much money do you want?”
“$5, please. I prefer exact change, too.” He extends his arm out and opens his hand, silently demanding the money.
“You’re horrible, you know that?” You go into your dresser and pull out a five dollar bill before handing it to him.
Clutching the cash, Dustin smirks. “You raised me well.”
“Get out of my room.”
Hearing the anger in your voice, your brother knows he has about five more seconds before you start throwing things at him. “Yes, ma’am.”
–
Work is slow, as usual, and when it’s time to pick up Alex from the pool, you wish Mrs. Waters a good day and get into your mom’s car that you borrowed today. With fewer shifts at the bookshop, Alex has started working at the pool to make extra money; on days when he’s there before a shift at Bookstrordinary, it’s your job to drive him to work.
It’s pouring as you drive to the pool, setting an eerie tone on the first day of July. The summer’s heat causes the thunder to shake your car, and your knuckles are white from how tightly you hold onto the steering wheel.
When you pull up and see Alex hunched over and drenched from the rain, you laugh at him. “Well, looks like someone’s shift ended at the right time,” you say as he quickly jumps into your car.
Alex doesn’t return your good mood. “Not funny, Y/N.”
Sensing that there’s something more to his foul mood than just being rained on, you look over at him in concern as you begin to drive. “Is everything alright over there?”
“Billy and Heather never showed up for work, so we were short handed fending off dumb kids who wanted to swim with lightning.” Alex wrings out his t-shirt and shakes his hair to dispel excess water, and you cringe as some of the water droplets land on you. “Telling a bunch of scary twelve year olds that they can’t swim… I thought I would die.”
The genuine terror in his voice is amusing, though his words unnerve you. It’s not like Billy to just not show up for work. He’s a lot of things, mainly a dickhead, but the few times you’ve driven the party to the pool, he’s always been there working; he’s dedicated to discipline. Hell, you’ve been to Max’s house, you know her family isn’t the wealthiest.
Billy can’t afford to skip work.
“They just… never showed up?”
“Nope,” Alex curls into him in a feeble attempt to warm himself up. “We all think they ditched to hookup.”
You think about how rough Billy had looked yesterday, with fresh blood still dripping from him and the feverish chills he seemed to have. Something hadn’t been right, and a knot forms in your stomach. You highly doubt he had ditched work to go hookup with Heather, not if he’s still in the state that he was in yesterday.
Regardless of what he’s done to you, you hope he’s okay.
Something about this feels wrong.
“Yeah, probably.” Your voice is weak as you respond to your coworker, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on your now solemn mood.
The rest of the car ride is spent with Alex gossiping about where Billy and Heather could be, so it’s a relief when you finally arrive at Bookstrordinary and he leaves your car. You sit in the parking lot for a few minutes, your stomach twists and the knots multiply. The rain patters softly against the windshield in an almost rhythmic pattern as you try to calm yourself down with deep breaths.
The only sound in the car is your own breathing accompanied by the raindrops.
–
It’s Dustin’s idea to spend the day looking for evil Russians.
Steve isn’t sure where he got the binoculars, but at this point he’s learned that it’s best to not question the kid. Makes things easier.
Which leads to now: the two of them hunched behind fake plants at Starcourt sharing binoculars as they look for people who could fit the “evil Russian” description, all while ignoring the fact that Dustin caught Steve in your room.
“I don’t know what an evil Russian looks like.” Steve is holding the binoculars up to his eyes as he scans the food court area. He has no clue what he’s looking for and he swears that Dustin is purposely staring him down to try and get him to confess about this morning.
“Tall, blond, not smiling.” The kid responds, knowing that Steve is trying to distract him with stupid questions. He’s squirming under Dustin’s gaze, which he gets a sick joy out of. Between the $5 you coughed up and Steve’s obvious distress, it’s a pretty good day for Dustin Henderson. “Anyways, look for earpieces, camo, duffel bags, that sort of thing.”
Steve continues to look through the binoculars, relieved that Dustin seems to be playing along and hasn’t hounded him about this morning. “Right, okay. Duffle bags.”
As Steve busies himself with the search, Dustin waits a few seconds to lull him into a false sense of security. He’s been waiting all day to do this. Clearing his throat, he prepares for the attack. “Hey, uh, Steve?”
“Yeah, little Henderson?”
“While you look for evil Russians, keep an eye out for idiots who traumatize their friends by sleeping with their sisters.”
Steve yanks the binoculars away from his face as if they’ve burned him. His eyes are wide and panicked as he turns to Dustin with a horrified look on his face. “That is not what happened!”
“Tell that to the traumatized kid.” The younger teen waves a hand over himself to emphasize his point. “You owe me like, at least five years of therapy.”
“I didn’t sleep with Y/N, dude! That’s–that’s gross–”
“Are you calling my sister gross?” Dustin crosses his arms now, daring Steve to go on.
He groans and rubs his face. “That’s not what I meant, alright? I just… She’s your sister and–and we aren’t even together–”
“That’s a good point, actually.” Dustin snatches the binoculars out of Steve’s hand and starts to look for any signs of Russians. “Why aren’t you with my sister?”
Steve stares at him, dumbfounded. “You’re sending totally mixed signals, dude. Do you want me dating Y/N or not?”
“It’s not preferable, especially when I catch you sneaking out of her window like some skeezy douchebag–”
“How many times do I have to tell you nothing happened–”
“But, besides that,” Dustin shrugs, narrowing his eyes when he sees a possible blond teen who could fit the evil Russian description. “You’re not so bad, even though you’re a massive tool for not asking out the perfect girl right in front of you.”
Steve rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, entirely over this conversation. “You sound like Robin.”
The blond teen Dustin had been eying sits down and starts eating a hot dog, so he concludes that he isn’t Russian if he has an affinity for American food. “And Robin would be correct. Just ask Y/N out, she’s been waiting for like, at least a year now.”
“It’s not that easy.” Steve slumps over and bangs his head against the plant display they’re leaning against. “I have no idea how to ask her to be my girlfriend.”
“What, do you need my blessing or some shit?” Dustin removes the binoculars from his face and looks at the older teen, making sure to catch his eye. Then, in a horrible British accent, he says, “I give thy my blessing.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Steve deadpans, shoving the kid’s face away from his, uncomfortable with the eye contact. “But your blessing isn’t the problem. Y/N is just–she’s different and has been through a fuck ton of shit that I can’t even comprehend, and I’m just supposed to believe she wants to be with me?”
“Yeah?” Dustin cocks his head at Steve, not all understanding why he’s so confused about this. “You literally slept in her bed last night, man.”
Steve releases a quick breath and scratches his nose. He feels like an idiot and just really wishes you were here right now. “I… Well, yeah. Then there’s that.”
“It astounds me that you were once known as King Steve with a million girls drooling over him.” Dustin mumbles, baffled by the other’s patheticness, before going back to looking for Russians.
“Let’s remember that it was my advice that got you that girlfriend of yours, alright? Girls love me, that’s never been the issue, ” Steve flicks the kid’s nose, a habit he’s picked up from you. “So cool it with the arrogance, dipshit.”
“Steve, do I need to remind you that it’s not okay to call my brother a dipshit?”
Your sudden appearance causes Steve to clutch his chest and scream. He spins around and gasps, terrified of how much you may have heard from his conversation with Dustin. “Y/N! Y-you’re here!”
“I am…” You frown, unsure why he looks so scared; normally he’s excited when you surprise him at work.
“Uh,” Steve clears his throat and straightens his shirt out, trying to come off as collected rather than five seconds away from losing his shit. “I, uh. How much did you hear, ya know. Standing there?”
“Not much…?” Truthfully you’d been lost in thought, still worrying about Billy as you had approached the two teens hiding behind the fake plants. “All I heard was you calling my brother a dipshit.”
Steve deflates, and his reaction only confuses you further. Clearing his throat once more, he nods. “Oh. Yeah.”
You look over at Dustin, hoping for some type of clue as to what the fuck is wrong with Steve right now. “Did I miss something?”
“He was giving me horrible dating advice. Can we get back to looking for evil Russians?”
“Dating advice, huh?” You raise your eyebrows at Steve, who blushes furiously, and you giggle at his misery before turning back to Dustin. You eye the binoculars in his hand and point a finger at them. “And you can’t seriously think you’ll find evil Russians this way, right?”
“You got any better ideas, Y/N?” Your brother snarks as he brings the binoculars back up to his eyes.
You nudge him with your shoulder. “No, but I’m positive I can think of something less childish than whatever this is.”
“Just help us look for someone tall and blond with duffel bags.” Steve sighs.
“Oh, because duffel bags are so scary and Russian.” You roll your eyes at the boys, ashamed of their antics. Their logic is flawed and biased with so many gaping holes, it’s almost comical, but it’s enough to distract you from your anxiety from earlier. “Guys, why can’t we just go back to Scoops and figure out another way–”
“Target acquired.” Dustin suddenly interrupts you.
You share a look with Steve, who leans closer to the kid. “Where?”
“Ten o’clock. Sam Goody’s.”
Steve snatches the binoculars from Dustin’s hands and takes a look for himself, which you scoff at. They’re being ridiculous right now. However, when the older teen exhales in disbelief and announces the person has a duffel bag, your curiosity gets the better of you.
“Hand it over, pretty boy.” Before he can argue, you’ve snatched the binoculars from Steve and bring them up to your own eyes. It takes a few moments for you to find what the boys had been looking at, but when you finally spot the tall, blond man dressed in all black with sunglasses and a duffel bag, you can’t help but admit that he looks suspicious. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
Steve and Dustin turn to each other and say in unison. “Evil Russian.”
The three of you chase after the guy, weaving between the crowd of people at the mall as you trail him. You and Dustin side step a woman with her kid as Steve speeds ahead of you guys. Struggling to keep up, your brother berates Steve to slow down.
“We’re losin’ him.” He responds, only speeding up even more.
“You’re getting too close.” Dustin warns, and you almost trip over your shoelaces in your haste. He’s right, Steve is getting too close to the guy, and it’s making you nervous.
You quicken your footsteps and tug at his uniform. “Steve, we need to be careful–”
Suddenly the Russian looking guy stops in his tracks and slowly begins to turn around. You all scramble and try to appear casual; Dustin runs to the phone and pretends to make a call while Steve pulls you to the corner and places his hands on your waist to pull you close.
“Pretend we’re a couple!” He whispers, throwing your hands over his shoulders.
“This is wholly unnecessary,” you mumble, face burning at the close proximity. His fingers burn your sides, it’s been too long since he’s held you like this.
Steve chuckles at you and pulls you in closer, enjoying the moment far more than you think is needed. “Gotta admit, this is pretty romantic.”
You roll your eyes. “Totally. Super hot hunting down evil Russian spies with you, Steve.”
“Stop sucking face, the guy is getting away!” Dustin yanks at you and tears you from Steve’s grasp, disturbed and annoyed that it only took three seconds before you distracted the teen.
Soon you’re all following the blond guy again, and when he starts to slow down, the three of you hide behind a column and poke your heads out. Watching, you see the guy enter into the Jazzercise studio and pull a speaker from his duffel bag.
“Oh, this is much better than him being a Russian spy.” You snort, entirely amused by how this has all unfolded. The guy unzips his hoodie and reveals an incredibly muscular physique, and you can’t help but bite your lip. “His arms… Oh my.”
Steve sees you eyeing the guy and scrowls. “His arms aren’t that nice. “ He starts pulling you away now, sending death glares at the now confirmed zumba instructor, obviously jealous. You laugh, knowing your comment would annoy him.
“I don’t know, honey. His arms were huge.”
“Please,” Steve rolls his eyes, unamused. “They looked like twigs to me.”
“You and I both know you’re lying.”
Steve groans and kisses your hand as he tugs you towards Scoops Ahoy. “You’re killing me here, angel.”
“It’s what I do best.”
While you and Steve argue, Dustin gags at you both and sighs in disappointment. He listens to you two argue the whole way back to the ice cream shop, and he’s never wanted to bang his head against a wall more. Here Steve is, claiming he can’t ask you out, yet he’s pathetically moping about you finding some random guy’s arms hot.
Dustin thinks the poor guy is doomed.
When you arrive at Scoops, you break away from Steve’s whining and greet Robin. “Dude, you won’t believe the hot zumba instructor we followed–”
The girl rushes past you, not at all acknowledging your presence, as she exits the shop. You stop walking and share a confused look with Dustin and Steve as you all watch Robin run outside and jump on top of one of the benches.
“What the hell?” You follow after her, concerned by her franticness.
Robin is mumbling under her breath when you catch up, repeating the first sentence of the Russian code you deciphered over and over again as she spins and looks around the mall. “A trip to China sounds nice.”
“Hey, is everything okay?”
“A trip to China…” She ignores you as her eyes scan around the area once more. She looks as if she’s searching for something, repeating the phrase to herself.
You look around as well, not fully understanding what she’s doing, but it’s clear she’s at least looking for something to match the sentence. In the center of the food court, all you see are chain restaurants and vendors. Frustrated, you sigh. “Robin, I’m not sure what we’re looking for.”
“There!” She points at a restaurant called the Imperial Panda. “A trip to China!”
Bits of the code start to piece together in your head. If the message corresponds to stores in the mall… Unsure if you’re understanding Robin correctly, you hesitantly point towards the local shoe store up above. “If you tread lightly?”
“Yes! God, I knew you were the smart one in that weird trio!” Robin nods eagerly and tries to recall the rest. “When–when blue and yellow meet in the west. What could that mean?”
You both spin around, trying to find anything that could align with the line. As you’re studying a poster sign, Robin snaps her fingers and nods her head towards the giant clock that hangs below a bay window. Its hands are blue and yellow. “Think this could be it?”
“Robin Buckley, you’re a genius!” You throw your arms around her, in disbelief that she was able to figure the bizarre Russian code out all on her own.
Robin is stiff in your arms for a moment, having not expected the praise, before she slowly melts into the embrace. She coughs slightly, her voice a pitch higher than usual. “It was easy enough to figure out.”
“Robin, Y/N,” Steve and Dustin now join. “What are you two doing?”
“She cracked it!” You pull away from Robin but keep an arm thrown over her shoulder.
Steve frowns. “Cracked what?”
Robin gently shoves your arm off and jumps down the bench she had been on. Stepping towards the boys, she leans in close, a glint in her eye. “I cracked the code.”
–
“Is this even legal?” You shout over the thunder, shivering as the rain from the storm soaks through your clothes and into your bones as you sit with Steve and the others on the mall’s rooftop to spy on Russians.
You’re not at all sure how you ended up in this situation.
When Robin had cracked the code, you figured that the four of you would ask the other mall employees about their delivery shifts. Maybe hide out in Steve’s car and watch for deliveries during the day, eliminate other variables.
What you didn’t think the four of you would do, however, is sneak onto the roof of the mall in the pouring rain for an impromptu stakeout.
Thunder rumbles above you as lightning strikes, causing you to jump further into Steve’s side. He wraps an arm around you and rubs soothing circles to try and comfort you, knowing that this entire situation is your nightmare.
Seeing your fear, Robin tries to reassure you. “We’re fine, Y/N.” Then she turns to Dustin, who is holding his stupid binoculars up as he surveys the group of delivery men below you. “Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes.”
Your brother takes a moment to look around before he spots something. “They’re with that whistling guy, ten o'clock.”
You look down and watch the guy cart a series of boxes into the shipment alleyway. “It’s just a bunch of boxes, guys.”
“Sure, but what do you think’s in there?” Steve questions, absentmindedly drawing you closer for warmth when he feels you shiver again. He loaned you his raincoat, but clearly it doesn’t seem to be helping much with how much he can feel you shiver. A twinge of guilt sears through him for putting you through this in the first place.
“Guns, bombs?” Dustin guesses.
Robin throws in her own suggestions. “Chemical weapons?”
“How about delicious noodles and sensible shoes? Why haven’t we considered those as options?” Your teeth are chattering now as more rain slams against you.
“Shut up, Y/N.” Dustin raises his binoculars up again. “Whatever it is, they’re armed to the teeth.”
“Armed?” You exclaim as more thunder clashes. Your switchblade warms in your pocket ominously; you didn’t sign up for men wielding fucking weapons.
“Great.” Steve wipes water out of his face, feeling just as overwhelmed and defeated as you. “That’s great.”
The metal doors in the alleyway start to open, and faintly you can see the outline of more boxes within the storage room, it looks almost like a vault, though it’s hard to tell. Next to you, Robin squints as well. “What’s in there?”
“It’s just more boxes.” Dustin has to raise his voice in order to be heard over the rain.
Steve reaches for the binoculars. “Let me beck it out.”
However, he only ends up in an intense game of tug-of-war with Dustin as they start to fight over the binoculars. They grapple over it, argue about who needs it more, before the rain causes the thing they’re fighting over to slip out of their hands and bang harshly against the guardrail.
The noise rings out through the night and catches the men’s attention from below. Gasping, you yank everyone down before they can see you. Instinctively your hand reaches for Steve’s while Robin reaches for your other hand. With your backs to the ground, the four of you pant as the adrenaline of almost being caught courses through you.
Steve looks over at you to make sure you’re okay, and his eyes land on Robin’s fingers intertwined through yours. He frowns a bit, finding the physical affection from her odd, but sends her teasing wink.
When Robin sees his wink, she only clenches her jaw and turns away before releasing your hand.
–
“Well, I think we found your Russians.” Robin says as you all re-enter the mall.
“That was too close.” You mutter, wringing out your soaked t-shirt as your hair drips onto the floor. While the others seem to have already forgotten how the men with giant guns almost found you on the roof, you haven’t. It’s been on your mind the last ten minutes; it’s all you can fucking think about.
You’re in too deep again. You can feel it.
Dustin passes you and now walks in step with Robin. “What’s our plan now?”
“Well, strange child, I think it’s obvious that we gotta break into the vault.”
“I’m sorry?” You step in between them now, not at all liking what you’re hearing. “No one is breaking into anything. Do you have any idea how dangerous and stupid that is?”
“C’mon, Y/N, loosen up a little!” Dustin whines, wanting you to just be on his side for once.
“Loosen up? Guys, this is serious.” You look around at the others, lacing your voice with urgence. “We could be dealing with a national crisis, this isn’t just some stupid spy mission. We aren’t at all qualified to handle this.”
“I mean, aren’t we?” Steve hesitantly speaks up. When your angry eyes meet his, he flinches slightly. “Y/N, I know you’re scared, but–”
“I’m not scared.”
“We’ve been through… a lot,” his eyes flick over towards Robin, knowing she’s listening and that he can’t reveal too much. “All we’re doing is breaking into a vault. I mean, c’mon. We can do that, easily.”
Dustin nods eagerly at Steve’s words and Robin hums in approval. The three of them seem to almost form a unit against you, which makes you draw into yourself. Suddenly you feel like the odd man out, with no one on your side. Feeling panicked and defensive, your anger rises. “We shouldn’t have to break into anything! We can call Hopper, tell him what’s happening and at least have someone else on our side in case something happens.”
“Oh, like Hopper would believe us.” Dustin scoffs at you as if you’re some idiot, which doesn’t help the insecurity you feel.
“I know he’d listen to me.” You still regret having not called Hopper two years ago when you had found El in the woods. Had you told him about her sooner, about everything sooner, you know that you would’ve saved your brother and everyone else the heartache they endured because of you.
You can’t make the same mistake again. You refuse to.
Robin tries to appease you. “Look, we can just take a peek inside the vault, maybe dig through a box or two, then we can rat the Russians out to the cops! I promise, we won’t be doing anything dangerous.”
“We don’t know that.”
Your words ring throughout the empty hallway the four of you stand in. An echo follows them, as if taunting you of your fears and worries, and no one says anything else. You all stand there, frozen, with Robin, Steve, and Dustin facing you. As if there’s a line now dividing them from you.
Steve’s heart pounds in his chest as your eyes land on him, silently pleading with him to say something, anything. “Y/N…”
But he can’t. Even though he heard the rising anxiety in your voice, even though he knows the weight behind the words you’ve yelled, Steve can’t meet your eye.
He knows that you carry so much guilt within you, and he wishes he could offer you more. He’s torn between wanting to defend you and ease the fear that you’ve confessed to him before, how you feel this overwhelming need to protect the ones you love, but he also wants to follow through with the Russians. To see where it takes him, if he can redeem himself.
You stand before the three others, chest rising and falling rapidly, wondering if you’ve gone too far this time.
Dustin is the one who steps forward first. He stares at you for a moment, his eyes sad, knowing that there’s more to your reluctance than just the possible danger. He understands how hard you fight to keep him safe, and how much harder you blame yourself when something goes wrong. With a sigh, your brother grabs your hand and starts to pull you away from the others.
“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Dustin says to Steve and Robin. Then, with an uncharacteristically gentle voice, he says to you, “let’s go home.”
You’re too tired to argue and you’re afraid you’ll start crying if you try to say anything else, so you follow after your brother and leave Steve and Robin alone in the hall.
–
At home, you lay in bed trying to ignore the twisting feeling in your stomach that you’ve let everyone down. That you’ve let Steve down. You’ve never really argued with him before, at least not like this. You’re not even sure if you can call what happened earlier an argument, and the thought makes you groan and shove your face into your pillows.
You’re exhausted.
As your thoughts spiral, your phone rings.
“Hello?”
“Hey, bug.”
Jonathan’s voice settles over you in slow, soothing waves. You close your eyes, having not known how much you needed him until now. “Hi, bee.”
“You sound tired.” He notes with slight worry, always able to read you.
You sigh. “It’s… been a long day.”
He hums over the phone, and the sound is familiar and lovely, though just as tired. “You too, huh?”
“I take it you’re not doing too well, either?”
“No,” he sighs, a slight gruffness to it. “Meet me in your driveway in ten minutes?”
“Deal.”
He hangs up and you crawl out of bed, despite your aching bones protesting. You throw on a hoodie knowing to ward off July’s brisk night air and lazily lace up your sneakers. Slowly, so as to not make any loud noise, you open your door and poke your head out.
The house is quiet. Your mom and Dustin must be asleep in their rooms, so you softly close your door and make your way outside.
It doesn’t take long before Jonathan’s car pulls into your driveway. He has his headlights off, long familiar with the routine of picking you up late at night for drives around town. The two of you used to do it every night the summer he first got his license.
You get into the car and the heat kisses your cheeks. Jonathan greets you with a tired smile as you put your seatbelt on, and when you nod your head at him, he starts the car and drives.
Neither of you say anything for a while as Jonathan drives the route you always take together. He has an old mix tape playing and you hum along, familiar with the songs. It’s peaceful, your fears from earlier have now faded; for now, it’s just you and Jonathan as you drive around Hawkins.
“I’m sorry for being M.I.A recently.” He finally says after a while. You sit up a bit, knowing he’s ready now to talk about what’s brought him here tonight. The two of you never just drive around anymore for the fun of it, you know he’s here because there’s something bothering him. “Nancy has been… worrying me.”
You lean closer to Jonathan, now concerned. “Is everything okay between you two?”
“Honestly?” He breathes in shakily. “I–I don’t know.”
“Talk to me, bee.” You grab his hand that rests on the stick shift.
And he does. He explains about a woman named Mrs. Driscoll who called the Hawkins Post and how Nancy had decided to check out the story without telling their boss, roping Jonathan into it. He explains the rat they saw at the woman’s house, how it had looked sick, maybe infected with rabies, and how he had taken pictures of it to show their boss.
When Nancy showed the men at the newspaper what they found, they had all laughed and belittled her.
As Jonathan tells the story, he shakes his head in anger. “They were horrible to her, bug.”
You sigh, feeling awful for Nancy as well. “She’s smarter than all those men combined. She deserves better.”
“She does,” Jonathan shakes his head again. “But Tom, our boss, ordered her to drop the story. But Nancy…”
“Refuses to back down?” You guess, knowing how stubborn and passionate the girl is.
Jonathan swallows. “Yeah.”
“What happened tonight, Jonathan?” You sense there’s something he isn’t telling you, that there’s more to this than just men being shitty to Nancy at work.
“Nance, she–uh. She wouldn’t back down, even after I told her I was scared we’d get fired if we kept investigating Mrs. Driscoll, but she–she needed to prove she was right and I just–I can never tell her no. She’s relentless, ambitious, it’s what I love about her, but… Y/N, we found Mrs. Driscoll eating fertilizer after breaking into her house.”
“Oh my god,” you gasp and drop Jonathan’s hand. “Is she okay? What happened?”
“I don’t know.” Jonathan clenches his jaw. “We called for help and they took her to the hospital. When I dropped Nancy off at home, she… She wants to go visit the woman in the hospital.”
You’re silent for a moment, now understanding why Jonathan seems so shaken up. “Nancy still wants her story.”
“She does.”
“And you think she’s going too far.”
“I do.”
You sigh. “Jonathan…”
“I don’t know what to do, Y/N!” He raises his voice now, his anger surfacing. “I mean, we could get fired and she doesn’t seem to care! When Tom finds out that we’re the ones who put Mrs. Driscoll in the hospital… I–I can’t lose this job, bug. I can’t. Especially not because of some douchebags my girlfriend wants to prove wrong.”
As Jonathan unravels, your heart aches for both him and Nancy. It’s a tough situation, you understand both sides, and you can’t imagine having to go through any of it.
Sighing, you grab his hand again and try to find the right words. “You have every right to feel scared, bee. I completely understand, this job means so much more to you than just some summer activity like it does for Nancy, but…” You bite your lip, worried you’ll say the wrong thing. “I also think Nancy’s ambition is admirable. From the stories she’s told me, those men are fucking vile and treat her like shit. I think you should try being more supportive of her.”
“How am I supposed to be supportive if I lose my job?”
You sigh again. “By holding her hand and recognizing that while it’s hard being poor in this world, it’s also hard being a woman. Both of you have a reason to be upset, and while I’m not saying it’s fair of Nancy to disregard your financial situation, I think you both need to sit down and talk about this without the other getting defensive.”
Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Neither one of us gets defensive.”
“You two are the most defensive and prideful people I’ve ever met, it’s a miracle you haven’t fought until now.”
He laughs at this, knowing you’re right. “Maybe another conversation wouldn’t hurt… I just, what’s going to happen tomorrow?”
You shrug. “I can’t tell you that, but I can tell you that you’ll need Nancy just as much as she’ll need you, okay?”
“It frustrates me how you always manage to say the right thing.”
“You’ve known me for years now, it’s your fault for not getting used to it.”
Jonathan laughs again and his shoulders relax, his anger and fear now dissipating. While he’s still unsure what tomorrow will bring, he knows that at least he’ll have you. Then the two of you drive past Steve’s house and Jonathan remembers how tired you sounded earlier on the phone.
“So, we gonna talk about why you had such a long day today?” Though it’s phrased as a question, you know that Jonathan understands if you don’t want to answer.
However, your own fears weigh heavily on your mind and you indulge him, because you always do. “Dustin intercepted a Russian code a few days ago and roped Steve, Robin, and I into helping him decipher it.”
“A Russian code?”
“Yeah. Not sure if I can explain it any better than that, honestly.”
Jonathan raises his eyebrows at you. “Is it anything dangerous?”
“I don’t know,” you groan, dropping your head into your knees. “That’s the million dollar question right now. Dustin and everyone else wants to keep investigating this, they want to break into a goddamn vault, and I just… I have a bad feeling about this, bee.”
“What does Steve think about all of this?” His voice is light, but his hands tighten ever so slightly on the steering wheel. You see this and look away, knowing he won’t like what you’re about to say.
“He’s why I sounded so tired earlier,” you confess, eyes closed. “He wouldn’t listen to me tonight, and I just–”
You stop mid sentence, your words catching in your throat. Jonathan looks over at you with concern and makes a quick decision to pull to the side of the road and park. “Hey, bug. Look at me.” Swallowing back tears, you do as you’re told. When your eyes meet his, Jonathan brings your hand to his lips. “Talk to me.”
“I’m terrified he’ll be another ‘almost.”
Jonathan’s lips ghost over your hands and you feel his breath stutter slightly at your words. He knows the pain that comes with “almost”, he knows he’s the reason why the word stings your tongue as you say it out loud. “He’s not another ‘almost’, Y/N.”
“I don’t know anymore.” Tears start to fall down your face and you’re mortified. You hate the words coming out of your mouth, they feel like a betrayal to Steve and the promise you made him, and you hate that you’re saying all this to Jonathan. “He–he seems interested, sometimes, but it’s July now and–and he hasn’t… He couldn’t even look me in the eye tonight, Jonathan.”
Jonathan doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything.
You’re crying in his passenger seat over a boy you love, a boy who isn’t him, and all Jonathan can do is hold your hands as you cry.
“I’m sorry, bug.” He apologizes for more than just your upset over Steve. Jonathan apologizes for it all, for the years between you two, for the almosts and what if’s and missed chances.
“Yeah. I am, too.” You wipe your eyes, embarrassed now. “Can you, uh, take me home, please?”
Jonathan nods and wordlessly starts the car again.
It feels like last year, back to being unsure about love and relationships and being exhausted by it all, and you can’t help but laugh at the irony of it. The small laugh turns into a louder one, then into full body hysterics, and Jonathan worries for a second that you’ve lost your mind. “Y/N, you’re scaring me a little.”
You clutch at your stomach and laugh even harder. “S-sorry, I just–oh my god. I can’t believe I–I’m here again.”
“I’m lost.”
“Just drive, bee.” You try to calm yourself down, though giggles still rise through your chest. You think you’re delirious, honestly.
Yet some things never change, and it feels good to be in Jonathan’s car and breathless from laughter, even if your heart aches as you do so.
-
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#steve harrington x henderson!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things rewrite#slowburn#angst#nya#m's writing#tw jon is in this chapter#looking at u val smh#also steve is an idiot in this chapter#as usual
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Do You Think I'm a Nasty Girl
Hi! So this is my attempt at getting back into the groove of writing again, and what better way than with a lovers to enemies to lovers again fic?
On a summer night in '84, while your parents are away, you decide to test out their new hot tub and wind up getting an unexpected visit from your annoyingly hot neighbor.
After setting up your radio with your favorite mix tape, you slip out of a dainty, pink kimono, revealing a low-cut black bathing suit. It's cut high, on the sides, showing off more skin than you would ever dare to at the local pool. It was your latest scandalous mall purchase, and you knew your parents would freak if they saw you wearing it. Luckily, you had the house and hot tub to yourself for the weekend and could wear or do whatever you wanted.
You press play, on the tape deck, before easing into the warm water. You wince a little, and check the temperature gage, on the side, worrying you had it set too high. It was previously set at 104 degrees and you immediately lower it to 100. You then sit on the edge of the tub, waiting for the water to cool slightly. Turning your head, your eyes scan the empty backyard as an odd feeling comes over you, making you wonder if you're truly alone.
Shaking your head, you tell yourself to stop being so paranoid before lowering yourself into the water.
The whirring of the jets almost drowns out your music, so you scramble over to the side and lean over to adjust the volume.
Laura Branigan's Self Control fills the night air as you settle back into your spot, nestling your head against the plush headrest behind you. A sigh of relaxation then leaves your lips as you close your eyes, enjoying the warmth of the swirling water.
You drift into a sort of meditative state, as all the sounds around you fade into a low hum. You're so completely absorbed in your own world that you're oblivious to the sound of someone entering your backyard.
The usually distinct creaking of the wooden gate doesn't reach your ears, as it's slowly opened then quickly shut.
Careful footfalls on the manicured grass also go unnoticed as the visitor walks up to the back patio. They stand, in front of you, smirk on their lips as they admire the serene state you're in. They debate whether or not they should disturb you but ultimately decide to make their presence known.
"And here I thought you were having a party and didn't invite me..." they say, causing your eyes to instantly open.
"What the fuck, Harrington?" You ask, with a glare, trying to keep your composure, as your heart feels like it's going to pound right out of your chest. "How'd you get back here?"
"The gate was unlocked," he casually replies, gesturing to it with his thumb. "And like I said, I thought there was a party, given the music and all."
Rolling your eyes, you sit up slightly and lean over to turn down the music.
"Sorry to disappoint you, but it's just me," you remark, glancing up at him.
"Who said I was disappointed?" He smiles, his eyes meeting yours before traveling lower to your partially obscured cleavage.
"This song's a bit scandalous for you, don't you think?" He then asks, with one hand resting on his hip, while the other points to your radio.
You haven't been paying attention to the song that's playing, and when you realize it's Nasty Girl by Vanity 6, you sigh dramatically.
"Are you, of all people, offended by it?" You challenge, getting up to move closer to him.
He scoffs. "Of course not, but I didn't think you listened to stuff like this."
"Why? Because it's too risqué? Too obscene?"
You lean over the edge of the tub while he opens his mouth ready to respond. The sight of your glistening body causes him to freeze up.
"Kinda, yeah..." he mumbles, while you lean back into the water.
"I guess there's a lot you still don't know about me," you say with a smile.
He licks his lips before taking a step closer. "Why don't we fix that? Can I join you, or is this just a party for one?"
Deciding to up the brattiness, you roll your eyes and sigh.
"I guess you can, as long as you keep your opinions on my taste in music to yourself."
A grin spreads across his lips. "I can do that."
He then kicks off his Nikes before pulling his white t-shirt over his head. You watch a little too intently as he peels off his tight Levi's, leaving a pair of tiny green shorts underneath.
He sits on the edge of the tub before swinging his legs around and lowering himself into the water.
"Ooh, this is nice," he breathes, as he sits across from you. "I wish my parents would get one of these."
"You should tell Daddy you want one. I know the girls would love it," you snark as he shakes his head.
"Is that all you think of me?" He asks, defeatedly.
"You've never given me the opportunity to have a different perception of you," you explain, averting your eyes from his.
He sighs. "I know, but I'm not that guy anymore. At least, I'm trying not to be."
"And you expect me to just take that at face value?" You counter, unable to keep the hostility out of your voice.
"I guess not..." he begins, as he shifts in his seat.
Your eyes widen as he moves to sit next to you. He's suddenly so close, with his thigh pressing against yours as he reaches up to cup your cheek.
His gaze cuts through the steamy air as he leans in, so close the tip of his nose grazes yours as he finally continues, "I'll have to prove it to you, then."
You're struggling to speak, let alone breathe, as it's all too much. His thumb gently caresses your skin as he waits for some sarcastic retort that never comes.
Your mind's then flooded with memories of the first time he held you like this, the first time you felt his breath on your skin, of so many firsts, its overwhelming.
You manage to whisper his name, causing him to whisper yours in return.
"You can pretend to hate me all you want, but I know you missed this," he breathes, as he ghosts his lips over yours.
You resist the urge to lift your arms out of the water and wrap them around him.
"You're already off to a rough start, Harrington," you reply, relishing in his annoyance at your continued use of his last name.
"But am I wrong? Don't you miss me at least a little bit?" He asks, brushing his lips against yours, teasingly.
You sigh as you feel yourself weakening for him all over again. You wish more than anything that you could hate him, but no matter how much you want to, you just... can't. It's what lured you into his bed, his backseat, anywhere he could get his hands on you.
He made you feel so pretty and wanted and possibly loved... until someone else caught his eye. He'd then treat you as an afterthought, especially at school, practically staring you down as you walked by, with his arm around another girl.
That's the closest you got to hating him, and for the rest of the school year, you believed you did. You tried everything you could to make yourself forget the smug allure of Steve Harrington.
And it worked, until tonight.
Your hand grips the slippery bench underneath you, as he nuzzles his nose against yours, content with teasing you all night, if he has to, just to finally hear what he wants.
"Yes," you quietly reply, your voice barely audible over the sound of water swirling around your bodies. "I missed you."
He pulls away, only to look into your eyes, and smiles.
"I missed you, too, honey."
You immediately bristle at his pet name, as all your hurt feelings come rushing back.
"Don't..." you warn, raising your hand and pressing it against his chest, stopping him as he goes to lean in again. "Don't say it if you don't mean it."
"I do, though," he quickly defends, placing his hand over yours. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you and how I'm so stupid to have lost what we had."
"Really?" You ask, allowing yourself to gaze into his eyes.
"Yeah," he nods. "You're the last person I ever wanted to hurt and I'm sorry for being such a dumbass."
His apology makes you crack a smile and he thinks you've never looked prettier.
"It was always you," he breathily continues as you cradle his face. "I'm just sorry it took me so long to realize it."
"I just... don't want you to ever hate me..." he quietly admits, as you slowly pull him towards you.
"I could never hate you," you softly reassure, right before your lips touch.
"Promise?" He whispers, almost muffled, against your lips.
"I promise."
You each then melt into an overdue kiss. His perfect nose presses against your cheek while your fingers curl in the ends of his damp hair.
"Fuck, honey, I've missed you so much," he breathes, between kisses.
You sigh his name, needing to feel more of him. You break the kiss, leaving him dazed and panting, while you carefully maneuver yourself onto his lap. Your knees press against the hard plastic of the bench underneath him, but you don't mind how it feels when Steve's hands are immediately on your hips, helping to guide your movements.
You lean in to kiss him again, and he's already moaning into your mouth with every grind of your hips. You smile, against his cheek, as you press kisses across it, kissing your way to his jawline.
You feel his wet fingertips glide up your back before his nails dig into your skin when he feels you lightly nibble on his neck.
"Did you miss this too, Stevie?" You coo, glancing up at him.
He nods before his eyes roll back from another grind of your hips.
"No one else ever really took the time to find out what you liked, did they? So many selfish lovers... though I thought that's what you wanted?" You ask, your voice sickeningly sweet.
He groans when he feels your lips at his ear.
"Someone as selfish as you," you whisper, before softly biting his earlobe.
You feel him shudder underneath you, so painfully hard and desperate for either some friction or release.
"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" He then shakily asks, as you pull away to look into his eyes.
You shift slightly, freeing up both hands so you can place them on each side of his pretty face. You lean in again, lips just close enough to tease when you reply, "Nope."
"I'm sorry, honey, alright? I'll apologize all night if I have to..." he rasps, sounding as if he's on the verge of tears.
"I just might make you," you smile, enjoying your newfound power over Steve Harrington.
"Let me make it up to you," he pleads, lowering his hands back down to your hips. "I'll spend the night with you... the whole weekend if that's what it takes for you to forgive me."
"You really care about me that much?" You ask, combing your fingers through his hair.
He nods. "Let's go inside and I'll show you just how much."
You're both then scrambling into your house. Little droplets of water fall from your bodies as you hurry up the stairs. The towels around your shoulders doing little to prevent water from dripping everywhere.
The house is also quite chilly, as you had the A/C cranked up all day, so you're shivering as you enter your bedroom. You stand next to your bed, clutching your towel around you, while Steve stands in front of you. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you to him.
"Oh no, honey, are you cold?" He asks, cupping your cheek, with his other hand.
You nod, timidly, your earlier attitude seemingly nonexistent.
"I'll have to warm you up then," he replies, before pressing his lips to yours.
He pushes your towel from your shoulders, and it joins his on the floor. You whimper into the kiss when you feel his large palm flat against your back before his hand ventures lower. He gives your ass a good squeeze, earning another whimper from you.
You then feel him grinning as his hands continue to roam your body.
"You're so fuckin' sexy in this, it's driving me crazy," he breathes, after temporarily breaking the kiss. "I kinda want you to leave it on while I fuck you..."
You sigh his name before pulling him into another kiss. It's messy and desperate as you lay back on your bed, with him on top of you.
He nestles himself perfectly between your legs, and now it's his turn to tease you. He grinds himself against you, the thin material you're both wearing making it more tortuous until you feel him move the crotch of your bathing suit to the side.
You're already squirming under him as you raise your hips, chasing the movement of his fingers.
He's smiling again, unable to hide how smug he feels as he just glides his fingers over you.
"Not so tough now, are you?" He purrs, against your cheek, while your hands are already twisting in his hair.
You try to speak, but he stops you.
"Its okay. I deserved it, and like I said, I'm gonna spend all night making it up to you."
He presses a couple wet kisses to your cheek, before slipping two of his long fingers inside you. You're already moaning at the stretch and the way he's suckling on your neck.
"Shit, honey, you're tighter than I remember..." he pants, sounding as ragged as you feel. "Guess no one else fucked you like I did, huh?"
You shake your head. "N-No, just you, Steve..." Your voice trails off into a series of moans as he adds another finger.
"Didn't think so," he says, glancing up at you.
"Look at me, honey," he softly commands, and once you open your eyes you see how he's gazing at you with complete adoration.
"So fuckin' pretty," he breathes, before crashing his lips to yours.
Your nails claw at his biceps as he mouths at your jaw. He buries his face in your neck, then flicks his tongue over a newly formed hickie. He plans to leave several more all over your body, wanting to cover you in little reminders that you're his girl again, and always will be.
You moan his name, your hand gripping his wrist when you feel the familiar waves of pleasure building.
"This is all for you, honey, remember?" He reminds, breathless. "I have to earn your forgiveness, even if it takes all night..."
You throw your head back, against your pretty, pink pillow as the most intense orgasm you've ever had washes over you.
Steve's lips are at your ear, talking you through it, praising you for how good you are for him.
His words have you biting your lip and squirming all over again. You gaze at him dreamily as he places his fingers between his lips. A soft moan escapes him as he tastes you.
"Just as sweet as I remember," he grins, before you grab his smug face and pull him in for a kiss.
You're moaning for him all over again when you taste yourself on his tongue.
"So, how am I doing so far? Want me to still spend the night?" He quietly asks, still breathless.
"What do you think, Harrington?" You snarkily reply, running your fingers through his tousled hair, before pulling slightly.
With a groan, he kisses you again, knowing you're both in for a long night.
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This might be bad but could you write a Steve Harrington story where he left the reader for nancy after they were secretly dating bc she’s plus sized. Then once he cleans up his act he writes her a letter. I was thinking it could be based on closure by Taylor Swift! Thank you !
Closure
This isn't bad ! I can totally do that. I listened to the song for the first time today so I hope you like this! Also, This is going to be a two part piece. I wanted to give some background context so that's what this first part is about. I'll be working on part 2 soon. I hope you don't mind.
Pairing: Steve Harrington x plus size!reader
Warnings: I'm not a basketball player nor have I ever been a manager. Honestly I've never really been to a basketball game so I'm not sure if this is all super accurate. Pls let me know. Cursing, Use of Y/N, use of the word girl, some self doubt.
Series Summary: You never knew Steve could be so shallow. When he leaves you to date Nancy Wheeler, you're left with a pain you thought he'd never leave cause you. Maybe you should've stayed friends.
*Not Proof Read* Stranger Things Masterlist
Pt. 2
*****
Teenage love. Powerful. Fast. Fun. Potent.
The first boy I fell in love with was Steve Harrington. How couldn't I have? His perfect hair. Beautiful eyes. His flirty smile.
Every girl liked Steve at one point or another.
Steve and I grew up together in Hawkins. We never had the same classes together, but boy, I knew of Steve. We finally officially met in high school when I became the manager for the Hawkins High Basketball team.
Freshman Year - 1981
" Alright guys, huddle up. " Coach Ryan shouts to the sweaty boys drilling around the gym. " This is our manager. You will treat them with respect, you hear? I want none of that bullshit that went on last year. You got that Seniors? " Coach Ryan sends a pointed look at the upperclassmen. " If I hear of anyone disrespecting our manager, you'll be running on bleachers for the next month. I'm serious. "
What an introduction.
I shift slightly, a little uncomfortable with the gazes of the boys. I send a small smile to the team, trying to calm myself. " Hey, guys. Let me know if you need anything. " I scan the group in front of me. My eyes land on a familiar face on the back row. His friendly smile sends a wave of butterflies fluttering throughout my body. My eyes linger on him for a few seconds before I force myself to look away.
The last thing I need is for him to realize I like him. How awkward.
The coach makes a few more announcements before he dismisses the boys to the locker rooms.
" I needs you to gather up the balls and take them back to the equipment room. " Coach Ryan nods in the direction of the small closet on the other side of the room.
" Sure thing! Anything else? " I ask, reaching down to pick up one of the stray balls.
" Not that I can think of. I'll be in my office if you need me. " Coach Ryan nods a goodbye before heading towards the boys locker room where his office is located.
I look around the gym. Abandoned basketballs lay scattered around the gym. This is going to take a minute.
I pull the metal ball holder behind me as I begin picking everything up.
" Here ya go. " A voice startles me from behind.
I turn to see Steve holding two basketballs under his arms. He sends me a small smile.
" Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. " He sets the basketballs on the top rack.
I smile back at him. " It's all good. I scare easily. "
Steve jogs over to one of the balls a few feet away from us, swiftly picking it up.
" Oh, you don't need to do that. I've got it. It's my job anyway. "
Steve shakes his head, a looks piece of hair falling in front of his face. " I don't mind. It's kinda fucked up you have to clean up our mess. "
I shrug. " I mean, I signed up to do it. "
Steve nods. " Why did you sign up to be a manager? "
" Honestly, to get out of class. " I feel heat begin to spread over my face at the sound of Steve's laugh. " I hate biology. "
" Whaddya mean? Mr. Jackson's a world-class comedian. You're telling me you don't like his cell jokes? " Steve grins.
I cringe, memories of Mr. Jackson's awkward dad jokes and the silence following filling my mind. " I could do without. "
" You know, I don't think we've actually ever talked before. " Steve points out while heading towards another ball. Instead of returning it to the cart, he dribbles it towards the hoop closest to us. He shoots it into the hoop, the ball making a loud sound as it returns to the ground.
" Well, we've never had a class together. " I shrug, taking the ball from him as he hands it over to me.
" What a shame. "
Does Steve like talking to me?
" I mean, that doesn't mean we can't start now. We're gonna be stuck together for the next few months. "
Steve picks up the last basketball. " True. I gotta go get changed before my mom gets here. It's been nice. See ya tomorrow? " His eyes steadily hold my gaze.
I nod. " For sure. "
Steve's smile widens slightly. " Later, Y/N. "
" Bye Steve. " My throat feels tight from excitement. I can't believe that just happened. Steve knows I exist. He knows I exist! And he actually likes talking to me! This...this is fucking great.
Sophomore Year - 1982
" Hurry the fuck up, Y/N. " Steve groans, his sweaty forehead pressed against his forearm. He lazily leans against the now empty bleachers, his eyes following me as I finish writing down the total of money the team made off of concessions.
" I told you that you didn't have to wait for me. I have shit to finish up here. " I nod towards the clip board in front of me.
" I'd be a shitty friend if I left you here. What if you get...kidnapped or some shit. I'd be first on the suspect list. "
Friend. I'm only his friend. Gosh, I need to get over this stupid crush. I mean, it's been over a year since we met and he hasn't said anything about liking me. Why would he like me now? He's into girls like Chrissy. Why else would he flirt with girls like her and not with me? If he liked me he'd tell me. Right?
I roll my eyes, trying to shake off my thoughts and focus of the impatient boy in front of me. " Great to see you care about me so much. Definitely isn't because of your reputation. "
Steve lets out a small laugh. " You know I'm fucking with you, right? "
" I know. Look, I'm almost done. Grab your duffle from the locker, will you? By the time you get back I'll have everything finished. Plus it'll give me a break from your whiny ass. " I joke.
" Ouch. And here I thought you loved me. " Steve holds a hand up to his heart, humor clearly in his tone.
For a moment my heart begins to race. Love. He knows? He doesn't know. Shut the fuck up and be normal. He's a friend. Just a friend.
" What made you believe that? Tommy's obviously my number 1. "
I'm not the biggest fan of Tommy. He's hot a cold. Somedays he's decent, other days he's a complete shit head. He's changed a lot since middle school.
For a moment something flashes over Steve's expression. Surprise maybe? Annoyance? As quickly as it comes it's gone. His playful expression returns. " I'll be sure to let him know that. "
" Don't you fucking dare! " My head snaps towards him. " I'll kill you, Harrington. I'm not even joking. He'll never let me live that shit down, even if it's a lie. And Carol will beat the shit out of me. "
Steve raises an eyebrow in amusement. He leans back against the bleachers, crossing his arms. " Don't worry, I'll sell tickets for the show. I'll even cheer you on. "
I roll my eyes. " Of course you would. "
" I'm gonna go grab my stuff before the janitors lock the locker rooms up for the night. " Steve laughs, pushing himself up. " Hurry the fuck up before I leave you here. "
" You wouldn't dare. "
" Watch me. " With that, he strolls towards the direction of the locker rooms. His strides ooze with confidence, a kind only Steve can emit.
Steve truly is one of a kind.
Junior Year - 1983
" Are you going to prom? " Steve asks out of the blue. He doesn't bother looking up from his text book.
I swallow harshly, heat climbing up my cheeks. I hate when people ask me this. " Nah. Prom's overrated. "
Steve's eyebrow quirks up. " So you're a dance hater? "
I shrug. " I just don't see what the big deal is. Blowing a ton of cash for one night? I'd rather buy new records. " I debate whether or not to tell him the next part. " Plus no one's asked me. " They never do. Why would they when they could ask someone like Carol or Chrissy?
Steve finally looks up at me, his gaze finally meeting mine. Shock is evident in his expression. " Really? You haven't been asked? "
I shake my head, heat crawling up my face again. " Why would I? In case you haven't noticed, I don't really have a ton of guy friends. And my friend pool isn't the largest. "
Steve sends me a sympathetic smile.
Instead of comforting me, it annoys me. He doesn't understand. He's had girls asking him out and asking him to dances from the moment he was allowed to go to dances.
" Anyone would be lucky to take you. You're a great person, Y/N. "
I roll my eyes, laughing slightly. " Yeah. Lucky. "
Steve's eyebrows furrow. " Why are you laughing? I'm serious. You're like the coolest person I know. "
" Then you have a very unique perspective of the word cool. " I glance up at the clock on the wall behind him. " Shit, I told my mom I'd run to the store and pick up some potatoes for dinner. I'm gonna be late. I gotta go. " I rush to gather my notebooks off of the library table.
" Do you want me to take you? " Steve asks, getting up after me.
I shake my head. " It's fine. It's just down the street. You keep studying. Lord knows you need to. Gotta pass that calc test in Jones' class tomorrow. " Truthfully, I just want to get out of this conversation and I'm worried that if Steve gives me a ride it'll just reignite the topic.
" Are you sure? I really don't mind taking you. I can always study at home. "
" I'm fine Steve. Plus, if you try to 'Study' at home, you're not going to get anything done. I know you. "
Steve rolls his eyes. " I love your confidence in me. With your reassuring words I can do anything. "
I let out a small laugh. " Shut up. "
Steve grins.
Fuck he's perfect.
I need to get out of here.
" I'll see ya later Steve. " I wave at him, pulling my bookbag over my shoulder.
" Later, Y/N. Walk safe. Call me in an hour or two so I know you weren't kidnapped or forced to join a circus. " Steve's joking but a part of his expression seems serious. Like he's actually worried about me.
I let out a sigh. " I'll be fine but I'll call you. "
I wish I was the type of person boys would ask out. The type that don't have to do anything for people to crush on them.
But I'm not.
++++++
" Y/N, Steve's here! " My mothers voice calls up to me.
What? Why's Steve here?
Confused, I head downstairs. As soon as I reach the bottom my eyes widen. Steve's still in the doorway, a small box in his hands. His hair is styled perfectly, like always. He's dressed in a fancy suit, something I've only seen him do for fall sport award nights or very special occasions.
" What the...? " I finally get to the bottom of the stairs. " Steve? What's going on? "
" You're going to Prom with me. " Steve holds out the box, his comment more of a statement then a question.
" I don't have an outfit! " I protest, confusion still fogging my mind.
" Just put on whatever you have. Come on, Y/N. It's prom. You need to experience it at least once. Why not with me? "
I feel my stomach begin to churn. Steve's taking me to prom? What fucking dream have I been blessed with?
I chew on my bottom lip. " I'll be back. " I turn to run back up the stairs.
I can't believe I'm going to prom with Steve.
I do my best to get dressed quickly. I manage to find a semi appropriate outfit for the dance and we head out.
" Dinner first. The dance is at 9. " Steve pulls into a familiar diner. It's the diner the whole team eats at after winning a game.
" Oh, you forgot to put on your corsage. " Steve opens the small box, gently taking out a beautiful corsage.
" Oh Steve, you really didn't have to do that. " I stare down at the beautiful flowers. " This is too much. "
Steve shakes his head. " I want you to have a prom to remember. You deserve it. "
I send him a smile. " Thank you. You...you're really the best. "
His smile widens, sending butterflies through my body. He gently puts the corsage onto my wrist. His fingers are cool. They leave tingly sensations on the skin he touches.
For a moment it's silent. I try to find a way to calm my nerves.
He's your friend. Just a friend.
" Actually, Y/N. I also wanted to talk to you about something. " Steve breaks the comfortable silence.
" Yeah? Go for it. " I take a sip of my water, my eyes staying on him.
For the first time he looks nervous. Like he has so much to say but he doesn't know how to.
" Are you okay? " I ask, slightly concerned. He's always so confident. He knows who he is and he's proud of it. It's something I've always admired.
Steve nods, pulling his eyes away from his water cup. " I'm just going to say it. Fuck. " He runs a hand through his hair.
My heart begins to pound faster. What's going on?
" Fuck, I hope this doesn't make things weird. That's the last thing I want. Look, I really like having you as a friend... " He starts.
What the fuck is he going to say? Now I'm nervous. Does he have another girlfriend? Someone who doesn't like him being friends with me?
"-But...fuck, look I like you. " He blurts out, a small blush crawling up his cheeks. " I've liked you for years and I really want to be more than friends. And...I don't know if this makes it weird. If you don't like me, I completely understand. We can just pretend this shit didn't happen and go to prom and never talk about it again. I really don't want to make you uncomfortable-" Steve rambles.
" Steve. " I try to interrupt.
" It's just been something I've struggled with for years and fuck, I don't want to keep it from you. Not when we could potentially be something more. I mean - "
" Steve. " I try a little more forcefully.
Steve's clearly stuck in his head because he doesn't seem to hear me.
"-I just don't want to have any regrets. Especially about you-"
" Fucking hell. Steve Harrington, I need you to shut the fuck up for a second. " I say louder, attracting the attention from an older couple nearby. " Sorry. "
Steve looks at me with wide eyes, clearly not expecting my reaction.
" Let me talk. Please. " I look into his eyes, excitement bubbling in my chest. " I like you to. Fuck, I never thought this would happen. "
Steve breaks into a wide grin. His shoulders relax and he seems less tense. " You do? "
I laugh slightly. " I mean, yeah. You're funny, you're talented, you're nice. You're the whole package. Steve, you're one of the kindest people I know. It's hard not to like you. "
" Oh my...thank god. I was so nervous you weren't going to feel the same. " Steve leans back into the booth seat he's in across from me.
" Me too. "
Today really has to be a dream.
" So...do you want to be my partner? " Steve asks, his gaze holding mine.
I smile. " I'd love to. "
Senior Year - 1984
" I'll see you after class? " Steve grins at me. He pushes away from the lockers he was leaning on.
" Of course. I'll meet you at your car. "
I watch as Steve walks away. He's immediately swallowed up by the crowd.
Thing's have been pretty good. Ever since we started going steady, things have been really nice. Of course, some people in the school don't really approve. It's hard to ignore sometimes but we try. Not everyone agrees that Steve should date someone like me.
It hurts.
But what's important is that we're still together. Despite the shit people say, we're trying.
Sometimes I can see it gets to Steve. He's lost a bit of respect. It's so fucking stupid. I don't understand why people think it's so important for him to date a certain type of person.
Sometimes I feel guilty for us dating. Sometimes his teammates can be dicks. They don't see what he sees in me.
It doesn't matter. As long as we're both happy, that's what's important.
++++++
" Look, we need to talk. "
Those are the first words I hear when I get into Steve's car. His jaw is tight. He avoids looking at me.
" Oh, yeah. What's up? " I ask, confused about what's going on. " Are you alright? You look tense. Did something happen in fifth period? "
" We need to break up. " Steve blurts out. He still avoids my gaze.
My eyes widen. " What? What's going on? Steve, look at me? "
" I'm done, Y/N. I need out of this relationship. "
What the fuck happened? We were fine literally an hour ago. What the fuck is going on?
" Why? Steve, what the fuck are you talking about? "
I feel my heart begin to break at his words.
Steve shakes his head. " I just-look, you're a nice girl, Y/N. But...I can't date you anymore. " His voice waivers slightly.
" Steve, what did I do? " My voice crackles. I feel tears prick at the back of my eyes. " What the fuck happened? "
" We don't look good together, Y/N. "
His excuse is fucking stupid.
" Since when have you cared about what other people think? Why now? "
Steve swallows harshly. " It's different now...I...you...we can't do this. You hear what they say about us, Y/N, don't you? What they say about you? "
Anger begins to bubble inside of me. This is what it's about. " It's me. You're embarrassed of me. " I'm silent for a second, trying not to let the tears come out. " Fuck you, Steve. "
Finally Steve looks up at me, hurt flashing over his face.
" You're an asshole, you know that? Since when have you given a fuck about someone elses' opinion? You're really doing this because of what other people have said? You're just like fucking Tommy, you know that? Like all of the other shallow assholes going to our school. " I open my door. " I hope you're happy. You'll finally get your spot as King of Hawkins back. I wish I'd never met you, Steve. "
" Y/N-" Steve begins, his arm reaching towards me. " I'm sorry- "
" Fuck you. " I slam his door, rushing away from his car. I hear a snicker as I walk past a few of the cars. Tommy and Carol whisper to each other, their harsh gazes glaring holes into my frame.
Steve's always had a bit of a reputation for being a dick to certain people. He's had a bit of a bullying streak. I thought that shit was over. I thought he'd grown out of it, I mean he was never mean to me.
I was wrong.
+++++++
Two days later he started dating Nancy Wheeler and I quit being a manager for the basketball team.
Fuck you Steve Harrington.
#fanfic#fanfiction#x reader#x you#x female reader#stranger things x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x plus size reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things x plus size reader#x plus size reader#plussize!reader#plus size reader#chubby reader#x chubby reader#fem reader#female reader#reader x character
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Imagine being Dustin's older sibling, and you lost virginity to Eddie, but then months or so later, you casually hook up with Steve. A few months after season 4 (everyone lives), Robin's big fat mouth lets it slip to Dustin. He spends so many times complaining about it, you get a shirt made that says: I fucked my brother's dungeon master and his babysitter.
"God, it sounds like you fucked them at the same time!" Dustin complained. "Meet new people!"
"That's a good idea!" You'd say.
"Oh, thank god!"
You dial up Eddie's number.
"Okay, proposition for you, I'm going to call Steve and see if he's on board - "
"No! No! Meet new people, goddamn it!"
The rest of it is up for grabs. It just popped into my head. 😂
#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things s4#joseph quinn#eddie stranger things#eddie munson lives#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#steddie x reader#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson x reader#dustin henderson#henderfam#stranger things x reader#henderson sibling#stranger things fanfiction writing prompt#or#stranger things microfic#rueleigh's thoughts
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here to request the date with dad steve and reader teacher of his second grade daughter. I just feel like it would be so so cute and fluffy
thank you!!!💋🤍
ahhh babe!! i’m so sorry this took forever to get out. but i love this request - thank you for sending !! i hope you enjoy & i do it justice!
w; this is short - i’m sorry !!
so the mothers were right - steve harrington was handsome and a gentleman.
which is rare to find in a man. but luckily the night had went off without a hiccup in anything.
the restaurant that steve had taken you too was nothing short of fancy - dim lighting with candle light, a rose in the middle of the table, and a live pianist.
it was your idea to take a small walk. but his idea to hold your hand and guide you through the night.
you had learned he drives slow. you weren’t for sure he always drove that way, or had just gotten used to driving slow after having a daughter.
glancing over towards your house, you smile to yourself. “thank you for tonight,” you then turn your head to look at him. “it’s..been a while since i’ve been out on a date.”
he smiles a bit. “let me walk you to your door.” without waiting for you to deny, he steps outside and smoothly walks around the car and opens the door, bowing slightly with a playful look on his face. “madame.”
you laugh, slipping out of the car, curtsying. his face lights up. “sir.” you bow your head before walking up the small pathway to your house.
he stands by the fence, watching as you dig in your purse for keys. unlocking your door, you glance back at him over your shoulder.
you debate your next move in your head, but you decide it’s not all bad when you make your way down the steps and towards the gentleman who stands next to his car.
pressing your lips to his cheek, you pull away and allow your noses to brush once. “thanks again…call me when you get home?”
his lips are parted, eyes blinking but he clears his throat and nods quickly. “yeah…yeah, of-of course.”
you smile and pull away from him once again, walking back towards your front door. stepping in, you turn and wave.
he waves back, watching as you shut the door and lock it.
he smiles to himself, pumping his fist in the air.
a mark to; you rule.
#cherry writes ✿#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fluff#joe keery x reader
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Chapter Two: The Ticket and Your Shitty Car
Pairing: Professor! Steve Harrington x Best Friends Dad! Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Lots of angst (sorry folks), mentions of anxiety and bullying, cigarette smoking, Eddie and Steve being sexy, kissing 👀, Reader is in their mid 20s and Steve and Eddie are in their early to mid 40s. Lemme know if i've missed anything.
**THERE WILL BE LOTS SMUT 18+ CONTENT EVENTUALLY SO MINORS THIS IS NOT A SPACE FOR YOU, MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED,IF YOU DONT HAVE AN AGE IN YOUR BIO I WILL LIKELY ASSUME YOU'RE A MINOR AND PROBABLY BLOCK. DM/ASK FOR ANY QUESTIONS**
Summary: After a few weeks of getting closer to Eddie and Steve feelings bubble to the surface
Authors Note: I'm so excited for this chapter and the rest of the series i've been having so much fun writing this! I've never written angst before so i'm interested in the response it'll get! And I pinky promise ya'll are getting smut in the next chapter 😈 7k words
**Chapter One**
A couple days had gone by since your first interactions with the two men that have been plaguing both your waking thoughts and your dreams. You’ve woken up more than once this week from your body buzzing and your panties soaked through. Lips on skin, rough hands on your hips, deep voices whispering in your ear. Groaning yourself fully awake and grabbing your vibrator to finish the job, that isn’t nearly as good as whatever was happening in your dreams.
Because of these dreams it made it impossible to look at Steve during class, only looking when you absolutely had to. Avoiding Mr. Munson was a bit easier, he either wasn’t home much when you were with Violet, or he was in the garage. You convinced yourself that you would just eventually get over your little crushes, and if you just avoided them long enough then things would go back to normal, and you’d have your sanity back.
But things didn’t quite work out that way. After you had gotten your ticket on the first day, you decided you would just pay it off yourself, to avoid another possibly embarrassing interaction with Steve. You had your parking pass now so you wouldn’t get another ticket. But you had a busy week with assignments and kept forgetting to take care of it. By the end of the week, you had completely forgotten about it, until Fridays sociology class. It was a normal class; Steve was talking about the theoretical approach to sociology. At the end of class, you were supposed to hand in your paper on Social Darwinism, you had spent many late nights making sure that this paper specifically was perfect. The problem was that when you were meant to hand it in at the end of class, you couldn’t find it, and you were starting to panic. Almost all the other students had left or were in the process of handing in their papers and you were left anxiously digging through your bookbag.
“Oh, how the tables turn, need some help there?”
You freeze, looking up from the familiar black converse that you could see next to your bookbag. Your anxious eyes are met with playful honey brown ones, that make you relax slightly.
“Sorry no I’m good I know it’s in here somewhere,” you reply a little anxious. You didn’t want your professor to think that this was any reflection of you as a student or your work ethic.
Steve watches you dig through your bag for another few seconds when you finally find it, in a folder you don’t remember putting it in. When you get the folder out of your bookbag, the ticket sitting at the bottom of your bag falls out onto the floor right at Steves feet. You’re too busy to notice, trying to make sure all of the pages of your paper are in order, and you have all your sources. When you finally look up from the papers in front of you, you see Steve holding the ticket that you got on the first day of school.
You panic and look up and into his eyes, he doesn’t look mad, but he looks confused. “I thought I told you I’d fix this for you if you ever got a ticket. Why didn’t you tell me?” he said.
“I- I didn’t want to bother with you something so silly, I was going to pay it, but with a bunch of papers due, I just forgot I’m sorry,” you blurt out.
Steve raises his hand to silence your apologies casually, and you’re ready for him to yell at you or at the very least be disappointed in you.
Shit, why did you not just pay it the day you got it?
“It’s not your fault honey, there’s no need for you to apologize, okay?” he says warmly. Your shoulders relax a bit more, his voice giving you reassurance.
“I swear I really did mean to pay it, I just didn’t want to bother you,” you confess.
Steves eyes soften. “Y/N you are never a bother, plus it's my fault for being the worst teacher in history and not giving you a parking pass.” He jokes.
“Steve you’re one of my favorite teachers, nowhere near my list of worst teachers.” You reveal.
He smiles widely and raises his eyebrow; you swear you can feel your insides thaw. With the playful look on his face, he almost seems younger, you could only imagine how attractive he was when he was younger, even just a glimpse is enough to make your stomach do flips.
“Oh so there IS list? Well, I demand to know where I am on your favorite teachers list, maybe it’ll give me motivation to try harder in class.” He winks at you in retort. You swear you could cum in your pants right now, how dare he be so beautiful and perfect, and funny.
You think hard for a second, you can’t put him first you think his ego probably couldn’t handle it, also it would just bring you more embarrassment. But he very easily is your favorite teacher, he makes jokes during class, makes sure his lectures are easy to understand and enjoyable, and seems to genuinely care about all his students, it’s very hard to rank any teacher above him.
“I hope your ego can handle it Steve, but you’re second.” you gush.
“You wound me, SECOND? That’s basically failure I demand to know who could possibly rank higher than me?” he jokingly stands up straighter, adjusts his tie, and holds his hand to his heart.
Damn, you hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“Uh, Professor Buckley, my Gender Studies Professor, I love her class,” you confess.
Steves eyes couldn’t roll farther back into his head even if he tried, you almost worried that they’d get stuck.
“You’re telling me, my best friend has already won you over? I’ve sat in on some of her classes and there is no way that Robin is funnier than I am!” he exclaimed as he puts his hands on his hips.
“You know Professor Buckley.. er Robin? Also, you definitely top her in the funny department, how did I know you wouldn’t be satisfied with second.” you retort easily. You could get used to this, the casual flirting, smiling with your professor, it felt easier than breathing. Once you got over the fact that he was one of the most handsome men that you’ve ever seen in your whole life.
“Know her? She’s been my best friend since high school, and a major pain in my ass. Second place is basically losing, everyone knows that babe.” The pet name slipped off his tongue so effortlessly.
Your eyes must have gone wide because Steve looks slightly embarrassed and rubs the back of his neck.
Babe babe babe babe babe babe babe HE CALLED YOU BABE
“Well then I guess you gotta step it up Professor.” you reply, trying to ease the tension in the room.
He smiles at you gratefully, “yeah I guess so,” he chuckles.
“Anyways I don’t want to keep you again for the second time this week, I’ll see you in class on Monday Steve.” you say as you go to stand up and walk past him. You’re about halfway to the door before you hear him call out.
“Hey, wait up, uh why don’t you come with me to my office so I can get that parking ticket taken care of for you,” he explains.
“You sure? I don’t want to make you late for your next class.”
“I’m the one who got you into this mess, please let me help you fix it?” he asks gently.
“Lead the way professor,”you answer playfully.
He smiles that flashy Steve Harrington smile and shows you the way towards his office.
“It’s just down this hallway,” he shares.
Then you feel him put his hand at the small of your back guiding you into a room on the righthand side, his touch lights your body on fire. It takes everything in you not to lean into his touch. You can smell his cologne, now that you’re so close to him. It’s a fairly clean scent with hints of musk and spice at the end, a more modern scent then you expected from a man his age. It only makes you want him more, to lean in closer and smell his scent mixed with the cologne.
You’re snapped out of your daze when Steve picks up the phone receiver and punches in a phone number. His fingers almost covered the buttons on the phone, and it made your legs squeeze together, thinking back to the multiple dreams you had about those specific fingers all over you. Steve looks up at you smiling lightly, surely just trying to fill the silence that filled the room. You hoped he hadn’t magically learned how to read minds in the short walk from his classroom to his office or you’d be toast.
His office wasn’t anything glamorous, it was an average size, with a nice desk and comfy looking chair, and big window with a view that overlooked the campus. The only thing making it uniquely his are the loads of pictures of him and Professor Buckley, and a few other guys and girls that looked around his age or maybe a bit younger. Documenting various birthdays, weddings, and get togethers.
While Steve is on the phone you take a moment to look at them, you see a picture of Steve being Professor Buckleys best man in her wedding to a pretty woman with dark brown hair and blue eyes. They all looked so happy, it made you smile, it looked like a really special day. Also noting that there are no wedding photos of him or pictures of him with a girlfriend, making your heart internally soar.
When you finally tear your eyes away from the photos, you hear the end of a conversation Steve is having with someone on the phone.
“Thanks again Reg, I promise it won’t happen again. Yeah, you too, take care. Say hi to the wife and kids for me," he said.
He puts down the receiver and looks at where you’re standing, and gestures to the photo you’re looking at.
“Yeah, Robins wedding! It was a really great day,” he reminisces. He goes onto explain that Robin ended up marrying his ex from High School, Nancy Wheeler. You smile and nod along to the anecdotes he talks about that day, trying to absorb everything he tells you about his life like a sponge.
“And by the end of the night Lucas and Max lead everyone in a impromptu sing-a-long to Never Ending Story, It was hilarious,” He says. You could combust, you can see just how clearly he loves his friends and how much they mean to him. He shakes his head and smiles wide at the memory, his smile being infectious, you smile back at him.
“Sounds like really good time Steve,” you reply.
“Yeah, it was, it really was.” he shares, he seems a little lost in thought for a moment before smiling up at you. “Sorry I don’t mean to bore you with my stories of the old days, I don’t get to gush about the people I love very often, so its nice to have someone listen," He confessed.
Your heart melts, he’s such a sweetheart. “No no please, I enjoy hearing them, makes you more a person than just my teacher. Plus, maybe at some point you’ll slip up and tell me something embarrassing about yourself. Then you’re done for Harrington,” you jab.
He raises his eyebrows at you and looks impressed. “That’ll never happen, I’ve never done anything embarrassing in my life ever,” he states sarcastically.
“Well, I’ll just have to ask Professor Buckley, my favorite teacher, about it won’t I?” you interject.
His face goes from his handsome boyish grin to fake terror in a split second, “I will give you whatever grade you want in my class if you don’t do that, she’d go on for hours, might even keep you after class just to rub it in my face.”
You could tell that there was some truth to his words, and you know your gender studies professor well enough to know that she really would just rip him a new one. You giggle back at him, unable to keep it in.
“She really would tear you to shreds, wouldn’t she?” you cackle. His face softens, “Yes she’s evil, just awaiting my downfall I swear!” he smiles softly at you.
You both look at each other a bit longer before Steve clears his throat. “Anyways um, I talked to the guy in campus security and you’re good to go, you don’t have to pay the ticket,” He spoke.
You had honestly completely forgotten that was the reason you were even in his office; his demeanor makes you feel at home in your own skin and were just happy to not have anxious thoughts rolling around inside of your head.
“Oh, right yeah, thank you so much, you really didn’t need to go through all this trouble for me,” you said.
“No trouble at all, really. I should probably get going though, my next class starts soon.” he explained looking at the very expensive looking watch on his wrist.
You try your best not to show your disappointment, wishing to stay in this little bubble with him a bit longer.
“Of course, yeah. Thank you again Steve,” you respond.
He leads you back out the door with his hand on your back again, maybe this time a bit firmer than the last, and you weren’t complaining. You both wave your goodbyes for the weekend before you head out to the parking lot, and he heads towards his next class.
You were relieved to be going home, this first week of school has tested you mentally and emotionally and you were ready for a little break. You hop in your car, and twist your key in the ignition, but to your surprise, instead of your car roaring to life like it usually does. It just stalled, unable to start. You try the ignition a few more times before you rest your head on your steering wheel.
Just your fucking luck
You take your phone out of your jean pocket and call Violet to see if she knows any good mechanics in the area. But you only get her voicemail. “Come on Vi,”you mutter to yourself, trying her cell again and again. Only to get her voicemail each and every time. You couldn’t very well leave your car in the parking lot overnight, then you’d surely get another ticket. But what other option did you have?
You make the decision to call Violet’s home phone, thinking maybe she’s too engrossed in a TV show or something to see her phone going off. It rings a few times before someone picks up.
“Munson residence.” a deep familiar voice answers the phone.
Shit
“Hi Mr. Munson, is Vi there?” you reply.
“Nah she left about an hour or two ago to head to work, everything okay?” he asks a slight concern in his voice.
“Oh uh yeah, my- my car just isn’t starting and I don’t know any mechanics in the area who could come and take a look at it,” you respond anxiously
You hear what you assume is him blowing out some smoke from his mouth, you shake your head trying to stay on track.
“Any mechanic out here is gonna charge you an arm an a leg to come look at your car right before the weekend, let me come and take a look at it myself,” he suggests.
Your body runs cold, you couldn’t deal with another interaction with BOTH of them in the same day again, you’d burst into flames.
“Oh gods no that’s really okay Mr. Munson. I’ll just leave my car here overnight its no big deal, I’ll just walk home its not that far,” You babble anxiously.
You hear him scoff on the other end of the phone, “What do you mean walk home? Where are you Y/N?” his tone getting a bit more serious than the lighthearted goofy tone you usually get from him.
“I’m at school, it’s fine really, my apartment isn’t that far from-,” you squeak.
“Let me just grab my tools and I’ll meet you in the parking lot, which building are you in front of?” he interjects, you can hear some rustling on the other end of the phone.
“I-,“ you think about arguing with him but you know that in the end Mr. Munson is a stubborn man and you will lose. “I’m in front of the Humanities and Social Sciences building, its right by-,“ you confess.
He chuckles “Oh yeah I know the one, be there in a sec, hang tight.” he says before hanging up the phone.
You bring your phone down onto your lap in defeat. You hide in your car until you see his car pull up, you don’t need anyone seeing you, especially a certain sociology professor. His big black truck pulls into the space next to you, and you get out of your car to greet him.
“Hey thanks for coming all the way out here, I hope I didn’t take you away from anything or anyone,” you look up at him innocently. He stands about a foot away from you, but even then, you could see just how much taller he is than you. He could probably use you as an arm rest.
He gives you an easy-going smile, “No problem at all sweetheart, I’m happy to help!” You give him the keys and he goes to try and start the car and it stalls again and he clicks his tongue.
Your mind going back to the dreams you’ve had of his tongue on you, on your skin. You shiver at the thought, and you squeeze your arms around you willing yourself not to fall apart.
Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice, too preoccupied with opening the hood and looking inside. He takes off his leather jacket and lays it on top of the hood and rolls up his sleeves. He fiddles around inside of the hood for a few seconds before popping his head around the corner.
“Looks like your spark plug is shot, I have an extra on me in case of emergencies, it’s your lucky day pretty lady,” He announces cheerily.
Pretty lady
“Oh, thank you Mr. Munson, you’re a life saver!” you beam.
He looks at you again one more time, studying you for the second time this week, he looks like he’s contemplating something in his head. His eyes are like lasers on your skin, heating you up from the inside.
“It’s Eddie, you can call me Eddie honey, you’ve known me long enough.” he says as he smiles at you, the edges of his eyes crinkling.
You can’t help but smile back, “Okay, thanks, E-eddie,” you stammer out. His name feeling so odd on your tongue, he’s your best friend’s dad, would Violet think its weird that you call him by his first name now?
He smiles contently like he made the right decision and goes back to working on your car. You lean against his car just watching him work, seeing how his hands knowingly move on all the parts of your car that you don’t even know the names of, only being able to identify the windshield wiper fluid cap and oil fill cap. You look at his now uncovered arms that you didn’t see the last time you got a good look at him, you could see right near his left wrist Violets name tattooed in beautiful cursive, and D20 right above his left elbow. You see how veiny his hands and arms are, probably due to years of playing the guitar and working on various motorcycles and cars.
“So, what are you going to school for?” he says, looking at you through the corner of his eye while he works.
“Psychology mostly,” you reply easily.
“What do you want to do with it? Your degree?” he responds.
“I’d love to work with kids, I felt like no one ever listened to me as a kid, so I’d love to be able to be a safe space for kids to express themselves.” You shared, this was something you’ve been passionate for a while, wanting to work with kids. Giving them something that you never got when you were a kid, a place where they felt understood even if they didn’t feel like that at home.
He looks up at you from his work with an impressed look on his face, “That’s really fucking cool Y/N, I wish stuff like that had been around when I was a kid. Woulda made Middle School and High School a lot more bearable for me, trust me.”
Your heartbreaks at his confession, you figured that he probably wasn’t always the suave sexy metal head that he is now, and he probably got teased a lot when he was a kid. It reminded you of your own experiences in school, teased and never really fitting in anywhere. Violet went through something similar except it never really seemed to bother her, she was always the type of kid that always knew who she was and didn’t let anyone get in her way. You always admired that about her.
“Honestly me too,” you confess.
Eddie raises an eyebrow at you, “No way, You and Vi had loads of friends in Middle School,” he says.
“Yeah, in Middle School sure, but high school was brutal without her there, kids are mean.” You say sadly, rubbing your boot into the asphalt trying to wash away depressing memories of eating in the bathroom and crying yourself to sleep at night.
Eddie scrunches his eyebrows together and nods knowingly, sharing that feeling. “Yeah, teenagers are fucking assholes.”
You nod knowingly, as Eddie steps around the front of your car to get into the driver’s seat, scootching closing to you, grabbing the side of your waist as he passes you. You take a shallow breath, and your mouth runs dry. His hand felt so perfect on your waist, like it belonged there… and then your mind wanders to Steve, his touch felt the same way.
Eddie got into the front seat and turned your key in the ignition, and sure enough your car roared to life.
“Huzzahh!” Eddie cheered, getting out of the driver’s seat and bowing to you. A smile plastered across his face in triumph.
“There ya go honey good as new, although you should stop by the house sometime, so I can put a new battery in your car, it looks like it’s about to take a shit on you, and I want you to be safe during the Winter.” He says casually wiping the oil and grease off his fingers with the rag in his tool kit.
He wants you to be safe
“That would be great, thank you again, honestly I don’t know what I would have done without you. What do I owe you Eddie?” you ask. Surely, he’d want some compensation for driving all the way out here on a Friday, probably ruining his plans to come help his daughters best friend with her car.
“On the house, and don’t fight me on this I’m not accepting any money from you.” He says slightly stern but in a way that makes you smile lightly.
“I’ll figure out a way to make it up to you or something, do you like cookies? I’ll bake you some cookies for all your help,” you insist.
“IF you happen to make double chocolate chip cookies and bring them over to the house, for Violet of course, I wouldn’t say no to one or two,” he says slyly.
“I’ll bring them over this weekend.” you say determined to not be in debt to him.
He packs his tools back into the trunk of his truck and shrugs his leather jacket back on, “I’ll hold you to that sweetheart.” he winks at you before getting back into his truck and waving to you as he drives off the lot.
You get back into your newly fixed car and drive home to your apartment, first thing on the agenda, a very cold shower.
The next few weeks had been an absolute whirlwind of epic proportions. Steve came back with your grades for your latest paper, and when yours got passed to you, at the top of your paper, “SEE ME AFTER CLASS” was written in blue pen. After class he explained that he was “very impressed” with your work and effort you spent on your paper and asked you to be his TA and help him a couple of days a week. Help him with grading papers, answering any questions your classmates had on assignments or class subjects, and help with lectures for upcoming classes. You couldn’t have said yes faster, not only did you have a huge massive crush on him. But you genuinely enjoyed his class and were excited to prove yourself. On those days you spent most of the time after your classes, spent huddled in his office with him grading papers or talking about different upcoming subjects you were going to learn in class. It was becoming one of your favorite parts of your day, you always left his office in the best mood. Plus, the flirting and your attraction to him only grew during this time, you noticed he started going more and more out of his way to touch you, or holding eye contact with you longer than was probably appropriate. You welcomed it, Steve made you feel like you were on cloud nine, some nights the two of you were left in his office until after dark, after all the work was done, just flirting and talking about life. Eating shitty takeout food that he’d grab from the cafeteria or the two of you would order in.
He always treated you with respect letting you talk about your feelings or whatever was on your mind, you eventually opening up to him about why you wanted to go into psychology, and he opened up to you about how he hadn’t always been the way he is now, and how there are parts of his past he’s ashamed of. The two of you bonded over your lack of family you had in your life, you told him about your parents basically ditching you after graduation and he told you about how his parents cut him off when he told them what decided what he wanted to do with his life and hadn’t heard much from him since. He reassured you that the only family that actually mattered was your chosen family and the people who love you that you let into your little corner of the world. You talked about your views on the world and your dreams. You liked that about him, that he listened to you and how modest and genuine he is, you assumed at first glance that someone with good looks like him and his upbringing he’d have an large ego. Which wasn’t entirely wrong, but not in a bad way. You’d come to really like Steve Harrington, he had an ego the size of a lake but a heart to match.
Which made it even more confusing on the days that you didn’t spend in his office. See you had saved up enough money for school and your expenses for the first couple of weeks, but that money only stretched so far. So, you looked for a job, and you became desperate. Being in a college town, good jobs that weren’t already taken by other college students were far and few between and being a TA wasn’t enough. So, one night after school when you were at Violets, Eddie overheard you talking about your dilemma, and offered you a job working for him. Eddie worked as a record producer and worked closely with a few music managers who were looking for social media manager. Which you happily accepted, there were no set hours and you could do a majority of your work in your pjs at home unless you needed to get Eddies opinion on something then you’d spend time out in the garage with him while he gave you advice or things the label is looking for in terms of the clients image or engagement numbers you needed to hit.
Sometimes you’d even make up excuses just to go over and spend time with him in the garage. He was patient with you while you slowly opened up to him about things that had happened over the past few years that you never wanted to worry Violet with, cheating boyfriends, bad friends, financial problems, and he took it all with stride, listening to and giving advice where he could. He’d spend time reminiscing about the “glory days” when his band, Corroded Coffin, used to play gigs every weekend at the hideout, a small bar on the outside of town. Or when he was in high school, he ran a club in school called the Hellfire Club where all his friends would play DnD, he even showed you that he got Hell Fire tattooed across his knuckles. You’d spend hours over there just tucked away in Eddies little corner of the house, sometimes he’d play songs for you on his guitar, or when he found out you had never played DnD he spent a few nights teaching you all the basics in case you ever wanted to play. You liked the way you felt when you were around Eddie, in a similar way that Steve did, Eddie quieted your thoughts of self-doubt and anxiety that usually swirled around in your head. You really liked Eddie, and it made your feelings even more confused because you felt guilty keeping all of this from Violet. You didn’t know how she would react to you having a crush on her dad, and you never wanted to put your friendship with her in danger. She was basically the only family you had, and you intended to keep it that way, even if it meant keeping your crush on her father a secret.
It all came to a head about a month later. You were staying late in Steve’s office grading papers while he was reading over some scientific studies that he was going to go over in class that following week. You were reading over a specific paper, a girl who sat behind you in class, who giggled at Steve during the first day of class. She had a lot of typos in her paper, and you had a hard time following her methods and asked for Steves opinion. He got up from his desk and went over to the other side of his desk where you were sitting, hovering over you so his face was close to yours. You loved when he did this, being able to see the honey bits in his eyes or the way his eyebrows scrunch together when he was thinking really hard, or how he ran his tongue along his lips to wet them.
For some reason the air in the room seems extra electrified, the tension being so thick, you could cut it with a knife. Your breath hitched as he got extra close to read a specific part in the paper, you could smell his cologne so clearly it was intoxicating. Steve turned to you to tell you what points to dock from her paper, but you didn’t hear a single word he was saying, it was all drowned out by the lust you felt for him. You think he could sense it too, his eyes kept flickering between your eyes and your lips.
Oh gods was this really happening?
You could see his face getting closer and closer to yours, you closed your eyes, bracing for impact. Your heart was beating faster than you ever thought humanly possible. And then, he kissed you. More intensely than you’d ever been kissed before, he started out soft, testing the waters. Slowly brushing his lips against yours, working up intensity until his tongue prodded your lips asking for an invitation in. The invitation happily accepted by you, you welcomed him in with your lips and sighed into the kiss, allowing your hand to grasp at the hairs at the nape of his neck. He held onto the side of your face like if he let go, you’d vanish. You kissed like this for a minute or two, lips melding together and tongues intertwining. He tasted like his spearmint gum that he chews sometimes, and his lips were softer than you ever thought humanly possible.
But as quickly as it started, it stopped. Steve de-tangled himself from your grip and stood back.
“Fuck, holy shit, I- Y/N I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have done that. I’m your teacher for Christ’s sake… FUCK!” he shouted.
You jump at the volume of his voice, you were not used to this Steve, or the tone he was using. He paced around the room for a few minutes, and you looked at your shoes embarrassed. Embarrassed because you weren’t sorry it happened. You had been dreaming for weeks about what his lips would feel like or what he'd taste like.
“I’m not Steve, you don’t need to be sorry because.. because I wanted it to happen, I’ll only be your student for a few more months and then after that we can do whatever we want,” you blurt out in desperation. Allowing the thoughts and dreams that hide in your head to spill out of your mouth. Steve sighs and sits back down in his chair, taking his glasses off his face and pinching the bridge of his nose with his middle finger and thumb.
“I- I think you should just go Y/N, I need to figure out what to do. This shouldn’t have happened and I’m sorry it did,” he murmurs.
His words act like daggers in your heart, stealing all the breath from your lungs. All the worst-case scenarios that played out in your head when you felt insecure, now playing out right in front of you. You were angry, you know he feels the same way but he’s too much of a coward to do anything about it.
“Fuck you Steve, fuck you!” you bite out through your teeth, not allowing the tears to flow from your eyes, just yet. He just rejected you, the last thing you wanted was for him to see you cry. You pack up all the things that had been splayed-out all over Steve’s desk, shoving them into your bookbag, and storming out of the room.
Before you’re even out of the building the tears start streaming down your face, you choke back sobs as you get into your car. You bury your head in your hands, your shoulders shaking from how hard you were crying. You can’t go home, you thought. Not to an empty apartment where it’s even more apparent just how alone you are.
You put the key into the ignition and go to the only other place in town that you can think of going to, Violet’s house. You prayed to any god that could hear you, that Violet was home, but Eddie was not. You did not want him to see you like this, especially over a guy. He’d heard all the pathetic stories of love that hadn’t worked out you didn’t need to add another to the list.
Somehow luck was on your side with this, Eddie’s car was not in the driveway, only Violets. You get out of the car, not even bothering to lock it and run up to the door and let yourself inside with the key Violet had given you after your first week in Hawkins. Tears still streaming down your face, you take in your new surroundings; Violet was sitting on the couch watching some dumb rom com and eating popcorn. She looks startled by the sudden intrusion and the state you were in. Your mascara all smudged, and you had tears streaming down your face.
“Y/N? What happened?” she coos. She gets off the couch and walks over to you, her face softens when she gets closer to you, her face now shrouded in worry. She pulls you fiercely into a hug and just lets you cry on her shoulder. Eventually she brings you over to the couch and she gets you to tell her the events that have unfolded. She listened intently while you told her about your professor and how you felt about him, and then about how he rejected you after a mind-blowing kiss. She held your hand the entire time, rubbing soothing circles into your hand.
Just as you had finished telling her what happened you heard the familiar jingle of the doorknob and the heavy boots that followed. You couldn’t look at him right now, not when you looked like this.
“Hey, hey party people, I didn’t know you were coming over tonight I shoulda got more beer from the store!” Eddie sang. The closer Eddie got to you he realized something was off and stopped in his tracks.
“Now’s not a good time dad,” Violet said, still focusing her attention on you.
“What happened? Y/N are you okay? Are you hurt? Did something happen with your car?” his questions flying by you a million miles a minute. Too exhausted to say anything you let Violet speak for you.
“She kissed a guy at school, and he rejected her,” Violet says as softly as she can.
“Y/N kissed a guy at school?” he said, you could hear an edge in his voice that made you flinch slightly.
“Yes, dad god did you have to repeat it? She’s been through enough tonight. Come Y/N lets go upstairs.” She says clearly annoyed with her dad’s lack of empathy.
You couldn’t bear to look at Eddie, so you allow Violet to usher you upstairs into her room. You two cuddle up in her bed, she lets you borrow some clothes to spend the night in and gives you a makeup wipe to wash the mascara and mostly cried off eyeliner off your face. You felt so taken care of by her, you remember you used to do this for her in Middle School when boys would be shitheads to her, it took a lot to break Violet, but boys are the worst.
At some point Violet fell asleep when you guys were listening to a true crime podcast, you felt your tummy grumble and slowly slipped out of her room to find a snack in the kitchen. You were so worked up after the incident with Steve you had forgotten to eat something more than a few handfuls of popcorn. Downstairs was more quiet than usual, you couldn’t hear soft metal music coming from the garage or Eddies light humming. You assumed maybe he had gone out for the night.
Until he scared the shit out of you sitting at the kitchen table, silently. He looked upset, nursing a glass of amber liquid in his hand.
“Holy fuck you scared me, warn a woman, jeez!” you say, sounding a little more like your normal self when your alone with him. Usually, Eddie would retort with a smart-ass remark, but instead you got silence and a slight sad smile on his face. You sense he’s not in the mood, so you move farther into the kitchen to grab yourself an iced tea from the fridge and make yourself a sandwich.
It was usually never this awkward between the two of you, it broke your heart a bit. You just lost Steve and now it felt like you were losing Eddie too.
“Did he kiss you or did you kiss him?” he asked quietly.
You jumped a little not expecting him to speak. Trying to word things very carefully so there was no confusion.
“He kissed me and then I kissed him back, and then he broke off the kiss and told me to leave.” You sigh sadly and take a big gulp of your iced tea.
“Idiot.” he muttered under his breath.
You thought that’s what you heard but you didn’t know for certain.
“What?” you question.
“I said he’s an idiot.” he said a bit louder for you to hear clearly.
That made your aching heart flutter inside your chest. Men are impossible to read.
“Oh.” you murmur, not really sure what to say.
“He’s an idiot because I’d never let a girl like you go,” he says calmly.
You heart could beat outside of your chest right now, his words set your skin on fire. But you were simultaneously hit with overwhelming guilt. Violet. Your best friend. The one sleeping soundly upstairs who would never do anything to hurt you.
“Yeah, but there’s a lot more at stake here,” You say trying to tread lightly.
He abruptly pushes out of his chair and heads to the garage door. “Yeah I know.” he says, sounding a mix between disappointed and angry.
You could feel a new rush of tears welling in your eyes, not only did you lose Steve today, but you were going to lose Eddie too. Two out of your three safe spaces, gone in one day. You felt so small, like you were free falling and you couldn’t grab anything to save yourself.
“What do you want from me Eddie?” you say defeated, barely above a whisper.
Eddie stops at your words, opening up the door to the garage, so close to freedom. His eyes now soft, seeing the state of you. “Nothing sweetheart, I want nothing from you.”
You just nod at his words, slouching your shoulders trying to protect your broken heart. Willing yourself to accept the fact that you lost both of them today, and there’s nothing that you can do to change it. You look at the floor, watching your tears slowly cloud your vision. You just hoped he left the room before you start actually crying.
Then you hear the garage door shut and feel the last of your heart shatter with it. You look up to confirm what your heart already knew, that Eddie was gone.
But where a closed door should be, showed the outline of Eddie standing in front of a closed door. You tried to blink away the tears, to try and figure out if you were seeing things correctly. The look on Eddies face was between a mixture of pain and confliction, his fists squeezed at his sides.
“Fuck it.” is the last thing you hear him say before he takes long strides over to you in the kitchen. Now right in front of you he cradles your face in his hands and kisses you firmly. You wrap your arms around his neck, forcing him to stay. His calloused hands wiping away your tears. You moan into his touch, opening your mouth and allowing his tongue to dance with yours. He kisses you with such passion, showing you with actions he what couldn’t say with his words. You push him impossibly closer to you, willing the two of you to meld into one if that what it took, not letting him have the chance to leave you. He takes that as an invitation to lift you up and put you on the ledge of the kitchen counter. Your legs caging him in on either side of his body.
“Please don’t go.” you mutter wetly between kisses. Eddie moves from your mouth and leaves kisses from the edges of your wet eyes to a part on your neck that made your skin irrupt in goosebumps.
“Never baby, m not goin anywhere I promise.” he reassures nuzzling his nose against a sweet spot on your neck. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Feeling a little better than you did a minute ago. Kissing Eddie made every other rational thought cease to exist in your brain. Just you, and Eddie, your bodies moving in tandem with each other. Harmony.
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hoping everything bends
Divorce Lawyer!Steve x Reader (based off this request)
You didn't plan on meeting him that day. It was an accident really. A mistake that should've had you fleeing from the door, but the second you laid your eyes on him, you knew this was an opportunity you couldn't pass up. (2.9k+ words)
cw: 18+, mdni, smut, p in v, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, cream pie, rough sex, older!Steve, mean!Steve (in the best way possible), age gap (mid-twenties reader),
soon to be one of my favorite fics that i've started, thank you to the original anon who requested it! title is based off of cable management by violets crush, i've taken some inspiration from the lyrics for the pov for reader. so check it out <3
You didn't plan on meeting him that day. It was an accident really. Rushing into the office, you tripped over the high Louboutin's on your feet, stumbling over nothing as you reached down to adjust them. You repeatedly pressed the open door button on the elevator, cursing as it took its sweet time opening. You were running about fifteen minutes behind, waking up from a drunken slumber about 45 minutes ago, New York City traffic betraying you as always.
A receptionist looked up at you through her small frames, grimacing slightly--something you had assumed was to be a smile.
Giving her your last name, you patted your ring finger against the gloss of your lips.
"Twelve o'clock?" She confirmed, typing away at the monstrous computer in front of her. You nodded, straightening up as she pointed you in the right direction.
"Left or right?"
"Right!"
Rapping your knuckles against the tall wooden door, your skirt suddenly felt too short, too unprofessional to meet with this lawyer. He was an old family friend apparently, someone who had helped your dad with his 5th or 6th divorce, you couldn't remember at this point. He was spoken highly of, someone who handled business straight to the point--assisted your family name in getting everything they wanted.
A soft call beckoned you in, the door opening under your grasp to reveal floor to ceiling windows, highlighting the city that stood in front of you. The room was empty, save for a few pieces of furniture, metallic against the stark white of the room.
A man stood with his back to you, leaning against one of the windows as he peered out, a black coffee in his grip. He spoke on a phone in his other hand, frustration dripping in his voice as he discussed terms with them.
"Have a seat, I'll be right with you."
You tip toed as best as you could to the desk, finding a seat in one of the chairs. The desk was organized--meticulously so, a single pencil laid next to a ballpoint pen, aligned with a black leather bound planner. A computer was pushed in the far corner of the desk, neat and organized as the rest of the items, a single keyboard placed in front of you. There were smaller items in the opposite corner, a small lamp, fake plant, framed picture of what appeared to be a group of people.
You ran a finger along the length of the desk, testing your theory if there were to be a speck of dust found anywhere. There wasn't.
"Sorry about that," the man hummed, sliding out his chair to take a seat. Glancing up at him, a small gasp escaped your lips.
"Oh, you're cute," you whispered, smiling to yourself as you took him in. His hair was pushed back out of his face, styled so his gray speckled hair poked out from his hairline, framing his face perfectly. Thin wire glasses adorned his face, resting on the tip of his nose bridge, a pair of plump pink lips beneath them.
A blush crossed his features briefly before he cleared his throat, raising his eyebrows at you.
"And you smell like alcohol," he shot back, dragging his eyes over your frame. Winking at him, you pulled up the hem of your top, brushing your fingers over your exposed breast bone.
"Long divorce, long night."
"Ah," there was a slight smirk on his lips, a glint in his eyes that you decided would be dangerous for you. You could deal with that later though. "Last name? I don't remember having a twelve, but I may have overlooked it."
He opened the planner in front of him, scanning the pages for your name as it fell from your mouth. Frowning slightly, he hummed, leaning over to type something in his computer.
Just as he opened his mouth to say something, the door flung open, an even older man appearing in the frame. He didn't even look at you, rolling his eyes as he leaned against the metal, fingers gripping his nose bridge, eyes squeezed shut.
"Remind me why I do family favors, again?" His voice was gruff, irritation lacing his tone. "Second time, we've tried to reschedule, and this chick won't show up."
The man in front of you cleared his throat, glancing at you as he began to put two and two together.
He cut the man off from the speech that began to pour out of his mouth, "Uh.. Harrison?"
The older guy stopped, eyes finding you for the first time. His eyes widened as he straightened up, adjusting the tie that sat around his neck.
"I'm in the middle of something here."
"Right, sorry, Harrington," he fled just as quickly as he arrived, the door shutting behind him. Reality hit you as it made a soft thud that echoed in the otherwise quiet room, you sinking into the chair a little.
"I take it you're supposed to be his twelve," that smirk only deepened as he looked at you, a sheepish look crossing your features. Smiling innocently in return, you sucked at your teeth, running it along them.
"I won't tell if you won't."
Shaking his head at you, he leaned back in his chair, spreading his legs wide as he pulled at his jacket lapels, huffing with the movement. Your eyes trailed down his form, lingering at the fabric where it bunched around his abdomen, dipping down into his groin.
"I'm going to be honest, kid, I don't know if I have room for another client right now," he began, speaking with his hands. He didn't notice your curious gaze, his own eyes focusing on his desk as he gave you the run down. "What do you have to be? 30? 31? Harrison, there, he's the best money could buy in this industry right now, with the most time. Used to young clients too. You're better off with him."
Pulling your eyes away from him, you shrugged, crossing your legs. Your skirt pushed up a little bit, exposing more of your thigh than would be considered appropriate for the setting. You pretended not to notice him look at you as you leaned over the desk, elbows perched on the cool wood.
"''M 25," You gave him the same smirk back, watching the way he briefly looked away, muttering 'Jesus Christ' under his breath at your age. "And I have all the money in the world to want you."
His eyebrows raised at your suggestive tone, clicking his teeth together as he thought of what to say next. You beat him to it.
"I think you'd be pretty good for me," your voice was low as your leaned over the desk, your chest beginning to spill from your strapless top that hugged your body. His gaze was unfaltering, focused on your face as you began to tease him.
"I doubt that's hardly appropriate or professional."
He stood up from the desk, adjusting his jacket once more before holding a flat hand out, gesturing towards the door.
"Ma'am?"
Your face fell as the rejection hit you, your mouth falling open in surprise. You weren't used to this, instead having men fall at your feet before and during your marriage even, used to throwing out the tens, hundred even of suitors that you plague you during the weeks.
Standing up, you leaned a hand against his desk, the other resting on your hip. "Sir."
He let out a deep sigh before running a hand over his perfectly styled hair. Knowing you weren't going to move, he crossed his hands over his chest.
"You're stubborn, aren't you?" His voice was firm as he rounded the desk to your side, landing feet away from you. From this proximity, you could smell the musk from his cologne, filling your nostrils with a slightly sweet scent. It only turned you on more.
"Don't you have to in this industry to get what you want?"
A genuine smile cracked through, warmth from his eyes showing as he (finally) dragged his eyes over your figure.
"Smart girl."
Those words did wonders for you, warmness pooling between your thighs as you took a step towards him. He backed away slightly, maintaining his professional composure.
"Harrington-"
"Steve."
Your smile deepened, your teeth digging into your bottom lip. "Steve. I don't see a wedding ring, so what's the problem?"
"Ironic, isn't it?" He didn't back away from you as you cornered him, placing a hand on his chest as he leaned against his desk, one of his hands grazing your thigh. He looked down at you, his eyes slightly hooded as you tilted your head up at him.
"Is it my age? Is that scaring you?"
Steve remained silent, darting his tongue out to lick at his lips. You could see the hesitation on his face, your question answering himself.
You trailed your hand up his chest, dancing your fingers along his neck, up to the nape of his hairline. "Well, I can promise you, I know what I'm doing."
A small nod left him, his head leaning down slightly to breathe you in, his lips parting. You craned your neck up to brush your mouth against his own.
"I could even teach you a few things."
A moan escaped you as he crashed his lips into yours, all professionalism leaving through the window. His hands found your waist, gripping the skin there as he spun the two of you around, lifting you up so you sat at the desk.
Your legs immediately came up to wrap around his hips, your hand pulling him further into you. He tasted like mint, his tongue finding its way between your parted lips, making claim there.
You leaned back against the desk, laying flat against it as he pushed you down, leaning over your body as his hands roamed free, grabbing at every exposed part of skin you had to offer. The largeness of them had you gasping into his mouth, eyes rolling back behind closed eye lids as you imagined them elsewhere, dipping inside of you.
Pulling away, he pressed kisses to your jawline, the scruff on his face leaving redness as he sucked in a few marks, nipping at the skin as he led himself lower.
"Steve," you moaned, gripping at his hair. He leaned back, his hands disappearing underneath your skirt as he pushed up the material.
"Don't touch the hair," he quickly said, pressing a kiss at your chest before sinking to his knees. You rolled your eyes at him, spreading your legs anyways as he slid down your panties, throwing them to the side. "I'm at work."
You could barely spit out a response before his mouth made contact with your wet cunt, licking you open immediately. A strangled moan was choked out, your hands shooting out to grab onto anything you could find. The organized items you recognized from before fell onto the floor, loud clatters filling the room.
His tongue left you briefly, Steve shushing you as he hitched your knee over his shoulder. Returning his mouth to you, your back arched, the wetness between your legs increasing.
You didn't know if it was him or you that had you dripping, your core tightening as he worked his magic, tongue flicking in and out of you, one of his fingers nurturing your clit under its touch.
"Steve, Steve," his name fell out of your mouth in a mantra, your eyes squeezed shut. Reaching behind you, you curled your hand over the edge of his desk beside your head, pushing your hips into his face even further.
He moaned at the push against his face, shoving his face in even deeper. His mouth alternated between licking at you, diving his tongue in and out of your wet hole and leaning up to suck at your clit, working fast as you fell apart around him.
"I'm gonna-"
It was fast, over just as quickly as it happened, your legs tightening around his head as you came, orgasm coursing through the length of your spine. Your eyes opened, staring up at the high ceiling as he tongue fucked you through it, running his thumb over your clit.
"Such a good girl." His words were addicting, praises that had you wanting to continue. You knew it was bad, just how good this felt, but you didn't care, it had been so long since you had a decent lay, this attention feeling like heaven.
Whining, the over stimulation felt like a strange vice, something you knew you shouldn't have, but so pleasurable at the same time. Steve removed himself from between your legs, leaning up to return his mouth to yours. You tasted yourself on his lips, the area around his mouth dripping wet with your release.
His hands were pulling at his belt, pushing at his boxers, releasing himself in a swift motion. Your lips were pushed together so sloppily, loud smacks filled the air as he ran the head of his cock through your folds once, twice, three times before sliding in.
Snaking your legs around his hips, you pulled him deeper, the stretch burning so right.
"Slow do-oh fuck--please, slow down," he muttered, resting his forehead against yours. One of his hands rested on the desk beside your head, the other trailing down the length of your leg. Stopping at your heel, he freed your foot from the constraint of the Louboutin, it already hanging half way off.
Tossing it away from the two of you, he pulled your leg up higher on his hip. You cursed at him, two thousand dollars being carelessly thrown to the other side of the desk.
"I'll buy you a new pair, relax," he said, pressing one more kiss to you before rearing his hips back. You expected him to slam into you, only for him to carefully ease his way back in, rolling his hips in a way that had you shaking already.
You moaned, dragging your nails up under his shirt. The crisp material bunched up under your hands, pulling half way up his back.
Your words came out stuttered, groans falling from your lips as you struggled, "Perfect, this se-season, ah, right there, is to die f-for. Fuck, Steve."
"Shut up," he rolled his eyes, as he sat up, hand beside your head leaving the desk to press against your mouth. He muffled your moans, thrusting into you repeatedly as he picked up his pace. The desk was shaking under the movement of your two bodies, his computer threatening to topple over.
The ruddy head of his cock pressed against your walls, hitting that sweet spot over and over. You could barely hold back your screams of excitement, grateful for the large hand that muffled them from fully coming out. They would have sure been heard from miles away, urging concern from his colleagues who shared the floor. Hell, maybe even a few floors down.
Steve was getting close, his head falling back in pleasure as he repeatedly bottomed out, pushing in deeper each time compared to the last. You pulsed around him, dripping as he drew you closer to your second orgasm.
His hips stuttered a few times before he came, filling your cunt deep as he pushed in one last time to the hilt. That final push was all it took for you to be sent over the edge, pulsing around his twitching cock as it was nestled deep inside you.
His hand left your mouth, running over the side of your cheek as you leaned into it, spent from the high. He tested himself once more, once small push of his hips inside again before you whined, reaching down to press your fingertips against his stomach. He got the hint, pulling out of you with a squelch that filled the air, white ribbons of cum spilling out of you.
He grabbed your hand in his, pressing a small kiss to the back of it as you reached down with the other, feeling the mess he left behind.
"Good girl."
Groaning, you shook your finger at him in a warning, sitting up on your elbows. "Don't start that again, please."
Your legs fell from around his hips as he took a step back, adjusting himself back into his pants. He took a look around the room, as if someone would be watching, his hand brushing down his face.
"Same time tomorrow?" You asked, pulling down your skirt as you stood up on one heel, the other on the desk chair pushed opposite of you two. You turned on the desk, leaning over to grab it as you pushed your ass in his direction, teasing him one final time.
As you turned around and sat up, you noticed the vacant look behind his eyes as his eyes lingered on you, pants being left unbuckled, his belt hanging loosely from the loops. "I actually have a twelve tomorrow."
You shook your head at him, walking over to him as you grabbed the discarded pair of panties that were draped over one of the open drawers. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you smirked up at him, "Better start making some arrangements then."
The look on his face returned to what it was during the heat of the moment, a dark stare with his mouth parted open in want. You leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek, a smear of the remnants of your gloss left on the skin.
Tucking your underwear into the waistband of his pants, you took a step back from him, pulling your skirt down even more.
"Hold onto those for me, yeah?"
Another mutter of 'Jesus Christ' was heard as you walked over the door, swinging it open to reveal the long hallway you came from. You were giddy as you smiled to yourself, the fun of this separation finally coming to fruition.
masterlist. inbox and requests are open! <3
a/n: long awaited I know! but here it is! I hope you loved it anon, I love you. I decided to put this as as stand alone instead of in the request because I wasn't sure how long it was going to be.
#requests#my writing#Steve Harrington x reader#Steve Harrington x you#Steve Harrington smut#smut#older!steve harrington#lawyer!Steve harrington#I love this fic verse
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dating steve harrington ⚘
#fizz moodboards!#steve harrington#stranger things#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem#steve harrington x fem reader#stranger things steve#steve the hair harrington#x black fem reader#x black reader
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omg I just saw your post about Steve where you asked which Steve we wanted. I'm missing KBD Steve so bad rn. Anything like a family movie night would really just heal my soul rn! (love your writings so much btw)
ty for requesting <3 mom!reader, 1k
“Did you play guitar?”
Steve slinks further down into the corner of the couch, Avery too big but exactly where she’s meant to be in his lap. She’s affectionate from years of the world's most ridiculous parents, he assumes, so he could have Avery sit beside him rather than on top of him, but why bother? She’s gentle about how she sits despite her long limbs, swinging one arm behind his neck as she gets comfortable against his chest.
“Did I what?” Steve asks.
“Play guitar?” She points at the TV. “Uncle Eddie plays guitar.”
“I can play a little bit, nothing like Uncle Eddie,” he says. “Just enough to serenade mom. I’d sing her all her favourites.”
“So you had a guitar? Where did it go?”
“I don’t know, babe. Maybe in the attic? There’s not room for all our stuff sometimes, so me and mom box it up and put it up there.” He looks at her knowingly. “Why, do you wanna try?”
“Can I?” she asks.
“Not tonight, but tomorrow? Is that okay? I’ll have to get the ladder from the garage, and we’re gonna watch a movie soon.”
Avery’s pretty easy, as kids go. When Steve says tomorrow she doesn’t whine. In fact, she gives him a grateful, shining smile, the arm that’s laid across the front of him curling tighter as she presses her face into his neck. “Thanks, daddy.”
He thinks that it’s because he’d guessed what she wanted. But that’s his job, to understand her and make her happy. “You’re welcome.” Then, because he loves her and he’s feeling quite loved up by her hugging and the feeling of her hair under his chin, he drops his voice into some rare parentese for her, “I bet you’ll be great at it. It takes some patience, but you have so much of it, and then you can play anything.”
She giggles. “Like the song from The Neverending Story?”
Steve’s heard enough of that song to last him a lifetime. “What about that song you and mom like? Have you seen her?” He’s tempted to sing it, and he figures it won’t hurt under his breath, “So fine and pretty, fooled me with her style and ease–”
Dove interrupts with a laugh as she tries to join in. The words escape her, but her passion makes up for it. She climbs up from her seat across the couch, sending the jellybeans she’d been holding in the lap of her nightgown careening across the living room floor.
“Dove!” Avery says.
“It’s okay, I’ll get them,” you say, standing just in front of the doorway with a towel around your shoulders.
Steve hadn’t known you were there, you were gone so long for your shower he honestly forgot what you were doing. He groans as Dove drops her face into his jaw, what a disaster, but she doesn’t cry so he brushes it off while you clean up.
“Dove’s gonna help,” Steve insists. “Aren’t you, babe? Ow. You’re gonna help mom pick up your jellybeans. Ow, baby, don’t step on me.”
“No,” Dove says with a giggle. “Sing again, daddy.”
Beth jumps in behind you in fresh pyjamas, her hair damp and water wetting the neck of her t-shirt. That’s why you’d taken so long —your shower had been commandeered. It’s nice to see you both in some comfy pyjamas, better to see his lovely Beth feeling better. She’d been sick for so long it was starting to make him depressed; seeing her invigorated after a good shower and chasing down jellybeans with a mischievous smile makes his night. “I got them!” she says. “I got them, mom. There’s like, seven.”
You hold out your hand. “Thank you. I think you got all of them.”
Steve misses the rest of your conversation, a chubby palm smushed to his nose that he attempts to throw off. Avery giggles at his misfortune as Dove says, “Sing! Sing!”
“I can’t sing, I can’t breathe,” he says.
Dove pulls her hand back. She’s as close to rolling her eyes as she can get. “Sing.”
“Now I can’t, Dove, you’re making me shy.”
“Dad!”
“You sing,” he suggests, leaning back, shielding Avery from her younger sister’s volatility with his arms.
“We’re gonna sing so much.” You beam as you unveil the VHS tape for tonight’s movie. In time, your three girls gasp aloud. “Daddy’s favourite movie, the Little Mermaid!”
“It’s not my favourite movie. That movie is my enemy. It makes all my babies cry.” Even Dove ends up in tears, though she usually cries when Ariel’s upset, rather than during Part of That World like her sisters do.
“It makes you cry,” Beth says.
“Beth, do we have a problem?” he asks. “Are you trying to get into a fight with me?”
Beth grins and runs across the rug to climb up on the couch where Steve’s being submerged. She sits down by Doves’s feet, wrapping her arms around Dove’s little tummy, squishing herself to Steve’s side. “No, dad. I love you.”
“I don’t believe you. I think you know you’ll lose if we wrestle.”
You snort. Steve steals a glance at you between all the little arms, your hip pressed to the TV stand, your lip between your teeth as you click the wrong button. It’s not like you’re stupid, just the TV is old, and half the buttons don’t do what it is they say they do anymore. Your nose wrinkles and you backtrack, and Steve wishes he was standing right there to smooth it over with his thumb. After a few seconds of searching (and harassment on his end, Dove’s fingers dangerously close to his ear) you click the right thing and the tape that the girls were watching before dinner pops out.
You smile to yourself at a job well done. Steve smiles at you, though you don’t see him doing it.
“Your moms kinda pretty, huh?” he asks Avery.
“Not kinda, super.”
“How’s the baby?” you ask.
Steve gives the baby monitor on the table by the couch a tap with his finger to make sure it’s still on. Feedback whines. “She’s hasn’t made a peep since your shower, honey.”
“Maybe I’ll go see if she’s okay before the movie comes on. Miss the previews.”
He can’t wait for you to sit down. “Okie dokie. Give her a kiss for me.”
You raise your hand in scout’s honour. As you’re walking up the stairs, Avery shifts in Steve’s lap and asks, “You smile at mom all the time, does it make your cheeks hurt?”
He sews a hand behind Beth’s back. “Nope. I have strong cheek muscles.”
#kisses before dinner universe#stranger things x reader#stranger things fic#stranger things#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x fem!reader#dad!steve harrington#dad!steve harrington x reader#dad!steve harrington x mom!reader#steve harrington x afab!reader#afab!reader#mom!reader#steve harrington fanfiction#steve harrington fandom#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington fic#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fanfiction#steve harrington fluff
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Summary: You’re Steve Harrington’s high school sweetheart, the two of you met junior year when he bumped into you junior year in the hallway and made you drop your books and he’s not only been apologizing to you for it but also obsessed with you ever since. This is a series all about how the two of you handle your relationship because even dating Steve Harrington comes with its ups and downs.♥️
Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader
CW: Language
A/N: I wanted to write a new Boyfriend Steve series but I still have my original one but sadly won’t be updating that one anymore, this is also gonna be fluffy with some angsty bits tossed in for the ✨drama✨
Tag List: Open
Instagrams: Coming Soon
Conversations: Coming Soon
Everything Else: Here
*this is a texting series but you’ll find everything in the correct order below*
Part 1: Zombies
Part 2: Code Green
#steve harrington fanfic#steve harrington#steve harrington au#steve harrington series#Steve Harrington social media au#boyfriend!steve harrington#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n fluff#Steve Harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x fem!reader fluff#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things au#stranger things social media au#stranger things series#my little fluffy haired baby#texting Steve Harrington
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Part 1
You sat across from Steve, leg shaking as he stared at you. His face showing every inch of remorse it could possibly muster. Your eyes scanned down back to the table. It’d been two weeks since you two have seen each other. Since the incident.
“Robin tells me you’ve been talking to her.” He says, finally breaking the silence.
“Yeah—“ You toy with the hem of your shirt. “I have.”
He simply nods.
“I hate this, I hate you not telling me what’s wrong. I hate not being able to talk to you everyday.” He says, his hands on the table. You finally look into his eyes and you can see. He means every word.
His eyes look like a puppy would’ve been punished for barking too loud. You wanted to kiss his eyelids until his eyes shifted to a happier expression. But instead you stay glued to your seat, staring at him.
“I heard you guys talking. How they think you’ll be better off with Nancy.”
His eyes close and he shakes his head.
“But I didn’t say anything—
“Exactly! You didn’t say anything. You didn’t tell them you were with me.” You practically scream.
“I don’t have to, it’s already obvious—
“So! You should be able to scream it from the rooftops. I-I love you Steve. I have so much love for you, it hurts. You didn’t even defend me in that moment. How am I supposed to know that—
“ I love you! I love you, isn’t that obvious?! And there you go again, running away from me! How was that supposed to make me feel?!” He places his hand on his nose quickly. “I told them to shut up! I don’t think you heard that. But I did. I told them that whatever it was that I had with Nancy. Its over. Will always be over because I’m in love with you!”
Silence overtakes the table. You are left stunned. You stare down at the burger in front of you. Finally acknowledging its existence. He had ordered it for you; before you walked in. Because he knew you liked them.
“I’m—“ Tear fall from your eyes. “Sorry..”
You feel him sit right next to you, his hands immediately wiping away your tears.
“You’re the one I want. You’re the one I love.” He whispers, you finally make eye contact with him. There’s so much love in his eyes. Finally, you push your head closer to his. Mouths finding one another’s. Hands exploring the others body.
You pull away first, shy from the public display of affection. He only grins, his eyes never leaving yours. Your head fits in the shape of his shoulder.
“Come on, let’s go somewhere. Just you and me.”
Taglist
I really hope this lived to your expectations.
@cupid-club @marvelcasey05 @hazydespair @molotovgirl45
#stranger things#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x you#stranger things x reader
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Steve promised you he would only drink a beer , “one beer and thats that” he’d told you , he’d lied to you.
You both drank 5 fruity drinks , enough to have both of you stumbling out of hoppers truck screaming goodnight at him, him shushing you guys. Peeling off into the darkness leaving you and your boyfriend giggling at his dramatics antics.
Your key keeps slipping , you’re desperately trying to get the key in so you can lay down and sleep , too tired for anything else.
“baby hurry uppp i wanna fuck you so bad , i could feel you dripping through your skirt on my lap during spin the bottleeeee” steve slurs , you abandon the key leaving it hanging on the door to face steve “uh thats not true stevie , i am as dry as the dirt right now” you defend “really baby? me kissing eddie didn’t make you wet , when his tongue went into my mouth i didn’t feel you pulse on my thigh” he whispers “n-no steve stop , you know what that shit does to me and he touched my waist baby shouldn’t you be mad at him , he was touching your girlfriend” you whine “baby why would i be mad he had his tongue down my throat, the three of us liked it , why do you think he grabbed you? and after when he walked away he was rock hard baby, he had to cover his lap so chrissy didn’t see” he whines back “ugh okay i am wet but so what it was hot baby now lets go fuck” you tell him “okay but not before we call eddie”
#eddie munson#steddie x reader blurb#steddie#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington fic#steve harrington smut#steve x reader smut#steve x reader#steve harrington x reader
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