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sattlersquarry · 2 days

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the great divide (steve harrington x fem!reader)

Summary: (Post Season 4 AU, the sequel to orange juice) After your miraculous return to the land of the living, you aren't doing well.

Word Count: ~12k

Warnings: 18+ PLEASE!!!! for language, anxiety, depression, and suicidal ideation. The reader has panic attacks and intrusive thoughts about Not Wanting To Be Alive. If that will be triggering for you please don't read this (read my happier bloom series instead). there's also an allusion to a relapse, slut-shaming, and allusions to sex (although there's no smut, it just gets slightly steamy). this fic is angst + hurt/comfort with an optimistic ending. inspired by noah kahan's music (including this amazing demo on instagram).

a/n: please let me know if i missed any warnings. please don't read this if you think it will be too triggering. the last thing i want is to make someone upset! but writing this was cathartic and helped me work through some things, i think. writing is magical!

🫀🫀🫀

THE GREAT DIVIDE

SOMETIME IN 1987

You aren’t sure how long it’s been since you last saw your friends. It feels like a fucking long time.

You woke up on the ground of the Upside Down, covered in dried blood and terrified at the sight of Vecna towering above you.

He brought you back to life. He wanted to send you back home and use you as a soldier and spy, the same thing he did to Will, Billy, Heather, and countless others.

“If you do this,” Vecna had growled, “You can once again see your family. Your friends. Your beloved Steven. Otherwise…you will die here.”

You refused, not interested in being his lackey. He tried to flay you anyway, but he was weak from the hell Nancy, Steve, and Robin rained down on him, allowing you to escape his clutches.

He stalked you for days, finally catching up to you—but you got the upper hand, using Eddie’s spear to stab him. Repeatedly.

Killing Vecna caused the gates he opened to sew themselves back shut before you could get through. You were glad that your friends no longer had to worry about Vecna and his army of monsters pouring through the four gates, but it meant you were trapped on the wrong side of the universe.

Vecna gone meant the Upside Down could revert back to what it was before he arrived. Now, the sky of the Upside Down was a buttery yellow, and it was much warmer. You saw patches of green grass and flowers starting to grow in various spots around town. But it still felt like a nightmare.

You wander the Upside Down each day with a routine: avoid monsters, forage for food and clean water, and visit the gates to see if any of them reopened. Food and water aren’t as hard to find as you feared, since the world isn’t so much of a poison, desolate nightmare anymore. But the gates stay staunchly shut, much to your chagrin.

You miss your life. You miss Steve. You miss his laugh, his smile, his kisses, his touch. You would do ungodly things to see him again.

You hope he’s okay. Any time you want to give up, you remind yourself that if roles were reversed, Steve would keep fighting to come back to you no matter what.

And, to your pleasant surprise, he does just that.

🫀🫀🫀

AUGUST 1987

It’s been three months since you returned to the land of the living. You’re not taking it well.

Surviving the Upside Down meant constantly being in fight-or-flight, scrambling to find food and clean water while avoiding demo-creature attacks. Without Vecna’s evil influence, the animals weren’t so bloodthirsty—but they still needed to eat.

You were able to avoid them, surviving yourself off disgusting canned food from the Upside Down’s version of the Big Buy and whatever houses you ransacked. It wasn’t very appetizing. It made the meal you were serving up today seem like a 5-star, 5-course delight.

It was neither of those things. It was for a church potluck that your mother had a hand in throwing. Lots of casseroles and carbs. She dragged you along to volunteer in hopes to get you out of the house.

Ever since you left the hospital in May, you’d only ever left the house to go to doctor’s appointments, therapy appointments, and Steve’s place. Your parents wanted to encourage more of a well-rounded life and schedule, and although they’d never admit it, you figured they hoped you’d turn back to your normal self. To the person you were before it all happened.

You think she might have died.

As you plate some macaroni and cornbread for your next patron, you sense eyes on you. You glance over and see two women at a table a few feet away. To your chagrin, they’re gossiping about you.

“I mean, it’s appalling,” an old bat named Shirley hisses. “She claims to have lost her memory after the earthquake and gotten lost, but it’s obvious that she just ran away.”

“Probably thought she was grown up, that she knew better than her parents,” Mildred says with a sniff, adjusting her too-big glasses.

“I can’t believe she left poor Steve Harrington high and dry,” Shirley adds.

Your heart clenches at the fact that these women see you as a villain, as an irresponsible idiot who up and left everyone who loved her out of spite. If they knew the truth…if they knew the nightmare you’d survived…

It only gets worse from there.

“You know what Cynthia told me?” Mildred says. “That her cousin’s roommate’s friend’s brother saw Y/N working a street corner in Manassas. It's just shameful.”

Anger burns through you, hot like hellfire. So, what? You’re not just a flake—you’re a slut to this people now, too? What happened to ‘loving thy neighbor’ and ‘forgiveness’ and all that shit?

“Can I get some more of that?” an elderly man says.

It snaps you back to your task at hand: dishing out food to hungry churchgoers.

“Ah, yeah,” you say. You dump macaroni on his Styrofoam plate. “Sorry. Here you go.”

The man smiles and ambles off. You take a deep breath and try your best to tune out the whispers of the chattering hens.

Your mother must notice the scowl on your face. She makes her way to you, practically floating, as graceful as ever. She’s totally in her element. She deserves a daughter who doesn’t clomp and stumble her way through life. Who doesn’t jump at every loud noise and sleep with a hunting knife under her pillow.

“Doing all right?” your mother asks you, giving you that sympathetic look that you think you might despise by now.

You muster up a smile of your own and nod.

Your mother can’t tell its fake and beams.

“See?” she says. “I knew getting you out of the house would turn that frown upside-down!”

She doesn’t know about the Upside Down. She thinks you got injured in the earthquake, stumbled through the Indiana woodlands, and got found by cops two states over. That you couldn’t remember where you came from due to amnesia, that since they pronounced you dead no one assumed you were the missing girl from Hawkins until your memories came back.

You let her comment slide and fake a smile, figuring it’s better to pretend you’re fine than feel it all.

🫀🫀🫀

That night, you chat with Steve on the phone. He’s gone back to college for the fall semester and you miss him terribly.

He promised he’d come back to Hawkins every other weekend. He knows how hard it’s been for you coming back. Or, he says he knows. Sometimes, you get the idea that he doesn’t really understand.

How could he? Every time he tries to get you to open up about what happened and what you went through, you shut down.

However, when he asks how your day was, you decide to be honest.

“It sucked,” you say. You blow out a huff of air. “These old crones were being total bitches at the church potluck. Apparently, the new conspiracy theory is that I was turning tricks in Virginia.”

“Ugh, I’m so sorry Y/N,” Steve says. For some reason, the sympathy in his voice makes you wince.

“But it’s fine,” you say quickly. “I don’t care what they say about me.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“It’s okay if you do, you know,” Steve says, speaking slowly and carefully as if he’s worried about setting you off. (For good reason; you’ve been prone to outbursts of anger lately.)

“I know!” you say, defensiveness seeping into your tone. “But I don’t give a shit. Really.”

“Good,” Steve says. But he sounds unconvinced. “You shouldn’t.”

Another pause. It lasts a little too long for your liking. You clear your throat.

“I should probably shower and head to bed,” you say. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah, totally,” Steve says. You don’t understand why he sounds almost intrigued by the prospect of your boring nighttime routine until he says, “A shower with you sounds like heaven right now…”

Shit. You’re really not in the mood for phone sex. Even if that’s not what Steve is angling for, just slightly flirty banter doesn’t sound fun to you either.

Steve has been a total gentleman ever since you got back. You’ve kissed a little, but anytime he tries to take it further, you stop him. As much as you longed for him in every sense while in the Upside Down, you don’t feel ready to re-engage in those kinds of activities—like you’ve been shot back to the insecure, unconfident person you were before you started dating Steve.

He respects those boundaries and never, ever presses for more. But you worry he’s getting bored and wants to get back into old habits, possibly evidenced by his shower comment.

You’re a coward. You don’t tell him outright that you’re not in the mood, afraid he’ll have an out-of-character reaction and chew you out for being a prude or a tease.

“Huh?” you say. Steve starts to repeat his salacious comment, but you interrupt with: “Bad…connection…can’t…better…”

You hang up the phone and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

🫀🫀🫀

OCTOBER 1987

It’s a Thursday in October, and you’re taking a trip for the first time in a long time.

“You have everything you need?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Toothbrush? Extra socks? Lambchop?”

You huff and roll your eyes, crossing your arms like a petulant teenager.

“Mom! I’m an adult. I do not need a stuffed animal.”

“But you packed her, right?”

You mumble out a “Yes” as she pulls up to the parking lot near Steve’s apartment building.

You applied for spring admission at the University of Indiana. Your lovely boyfriend invited you to stay with him for a few days so he could show you around campus for homecoming weekend.

Tonight is the unofficial campus tour with “Tour Guide Steve.” Tomorrow, you’ll help him and his friends put the finishing touches on a homecoming parade float, and Saturday is the big football game.

Before your disappearance and assumed death, your parents were insanely strict about you staying the night with Steve and wouldn’t have allowed it. Now, they’ve mellowed out—but you hate thinking it’s because of some kind of twisted pity.

Steve must have seen your mom’s minivan pull up from his apartment window, because he jogs over to you before you’ve even grabbed your bag from the trunk.

“Hey, babe!” he says with a beaming grin; the picture of exuberance. You can feel his excitement roll off him in waves. You feel like an asshole for matching his energy. Even though you’re excited for time with Steve, you have a pit in your stomach at the thought of being away from home for so many days.

Of course, if you get accepted to U of I, you’ll be away from home for weeks at a time. You try not to think about that.

Steve hugs you tightly, and you hope he can’t sense your apprehension.

He seems not too, still smiling as he gives your mom a quick hug and then offers to carry your duffel bag for you.

You give your mom a hug goodbye, promising to call if you want to get picked up early.

You and Steve wave as your mom drives away. After dropping your bag off at his apartment, Steve takes you on an abridged campus tour that ends at the dining hall. He wants to introduce you to his friends.

He has friends here. Of course he does, you’re glad he does. No one should feel like they don’t have friends, or like their girlfriend is their only friend. But what does it mean that your boyfriend is your only friend lately?

Nancy’s off at Emerson. As for the Hawkins crew, Jonathan’s busy with family stuff, helping Joyce and Hopper renovate their new house. Eddie’s preoccupied with his band, trying to get Corroded Coffin off the ground after a he-was-accused-of-murder hiatus. And Robin’s a student at Roane County Community College, spending her days with marching band and classes and clubs and work.

They’ve started inviting you to things, and sometimes you go. You usually don’t have much fun, distracted with your own anxieties and unable to think of anything interesting to say.

So, the fact that Steve seems to have moved on from everything so easily and has a pack of friends at college makes you feel pathetic, even though it shouldn’t.

At the dining hall, Steve introduces you to his buddies. When Steve lived on-campus last semester, Gus was his roommate. Now Steve’s moved into his own apartment off-campus, but the boys still hang out often and play together on a club basketball team.

Jessica is Gus’ girlfriend. She has a kind smile and compliments your sweater.

The last friend in their clique is Rochelle. She’s tall and slender, like a supermodel. Apparently, she and Jessica grew up together and are good friends.

Everyone greets you happily when Steve introduces you—except Rochelle, who looks you up and down like she’s inspecting you. It makes you uneasy.

You immediately start to dislike her more when she laughs loudly at Steve’s jokes and squeezes his shoulder flirtatiously.

“You are tew much, Harrington,” Rochelle says, flipping her shiny hair over her shoulder.

It makes you feel tense and jealous and angry and sick all at once.

You’re completely content to listen in silence while the others chat, but then Jessica asks where you go to school.

“Oh, um, here, in the spring,” you say. “Uh, hopefully.”

“That’s awesome!” Gus says. “You get the full Hoosiers homecoming experience a whole semester before having to pay tuition.”

You chuckle and smile. Any good feelings you have about this interaction come crashing down when Rochelle asks, “So, like, if you aren’t a student right now, what do you do?”

“She’s working at Sonic,” Steve says. “Saving up money. Right babe?”

You turn to him, face falling. You’re not working. You tried to apply for a job at Sonic and had a panic attack when you saw the gap in your resume from your 15 months in the Upside Down, so you roller-skated your way home to unemployment.

Did you not tell Steve that? You suppose you “forgot” to tell him about that panic episode.

“Uh, actually no,” you say, furrowing your brow. “Not anymore. I’m just taking a semester off.”

Surprise flashes behind Steve’s eyes, but he recovers quickly. He throws an arm around your shoulders and says, “Right, of course.”

The rest of the conversation is mostly you smiling and nodding along to the funny stories and inside jokes the group shares. When you and Steve get back to his place later that evening, you apologize for not updating him on the Sonic situation sooner.

Steve waves away your apology.

“Don’t even worry about it,” he says.

“But I feel bad,” you say, fidgeting with your fingers while you sit next to him on the couch. “I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

(You didn’t truly forget. You were embarrassed and didn’t want him to know.)

“These things happen,” Steve says. “I totally get it. For a few months after Vecna and…you, my brain was like scrambled eggs. I’d drink myself to a coma every other night. I definitely didn’t have the sharpest mind.”

You appreciate him for understanding. Except you feel shitty because you’re lying to him about forgetting. It’s a vicious cycle.

The two of you put on a movie, and while you’re lying on the couch with him, you start thinking of something you haven’t done in a long, long time.

You lightly trace your hand up and down the arm that’s wrapped around your middle.

“Hey,” you say quietly. “Would you want to…”

You clear your throat.

“What?” Steve asks.

You aren’t sure how to ask for what you want without sounding wholly desperate and/or pathetic and/or like the horniest bastard alive.

“Go to your room?” you say.

“Sure, if you want, we can go to sleep. We have a long day tomorrow.”

You laugh lightly.

“No, I mean. You know.”

You wiggle your eyebrows and Steve’s jaw drops. Mouth agape, like a goldfish, his brains seems to short circuit.

The air is charged with something you haven’t felt in a long time.

“Are you sure?” Steve says, a barely audibly whisper. His hand cups your cheek so delicately, and you feel cherished. Love. Seen.

“I am,” you whisper back, before pulling him closer to you for a kiss.

It’s the kind of kiss you dreamed about while you were trapped in another universe.

It makes you feel electric, the same way your first kiss had. That iconic kiss happened because Steve found out you’d never played spin the bottle. In his kitchen late, late at night, he took an empty soda bottle and spun it on the countertop.

He had maneuvered it just right and stopped it with his hand when the bottle neck pointed right at you, like a compass needle finding truth north.

“Well, what do you know,” Steve had said at the time, with a dopey grin on his face. “It’s you.”

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” you had quipped, “you could’ve just asked.”

And then you two kissed like crazy, amongst other things.

Back in the present, all your hesitancies and qualms about re-engaging in intimacy and sex with Steve are thrown out the window when you feel his lips on yours.

Giddy as if it’s the first time (because, in a way, it kind of is), the two of you break apart and practically race down the hall to his bedroom. Thank goodness for no roommates, because when you’re in there, Steve slams the door and presses you against it to kiss some more, closing the gap between the metaphorical great divide that you’ve placed between you both.

You tug at his shirt, and he pulls it off before the two of you stumble into his bed.

Things heat up, and they’re going great. Steve is kissing and biting your neck, probably leaving a hickey or two, but you don’t mind. His hands are gripping your waist, practically leaving scorch marks in their wake.

You’re loving this. You’re having a great time.

Until you’re not. The trains of thought in your brain all rush from the station at the same time, colliding at a junction on the tracks.

What if you give Steve an infection? Not an STD, but like, an Upside Down sickness. You could be a carrier and not even realize it. Is that a possibility? What did Dr. Owens say last time you saw him?

He advised you not to get pregnant. He said there’s a possibility your future children could have birth defects after your time in the Upside Down. Birth defects! You’re only 21 years old and your body is poisoned. Not enough to harm you in the short term, but the long term effects on you (and your progeny) could be terrible to deal with.

But Steve really wants kids. What if he finds out you can’t give him children and he leaves you? You really, really don’t want him to leave you.

You don’t realize it, but you start breathing a little harder. To Steve, it seems like you’re insanely turned on. Mentally, your brain is on a different plane of existence.

He’s going to leave you because he’s better off without you. He doesn’t realize it yet but one day, one day. He will.

Vecna was right. Vecna said Steve would get tired and bored of you. That’s why the monster tried to recruit you, to flay you. That’s why he pursued you across the Upside Down for days, hunting you like a dog until he cornered you at the quarry.

Steve finally takes notice of your erratic breathing pattern. You’re not reacting how you usually do to his kissing. He ceases the lovefest and leans up on his elbows.

“Y/N? You okay?”

You don’t hear him. You continue to hyperventilate, your eyes screwed tightly shut.

And when you stabbed the beast through the chest with the spear Eddie left behind, you didn’t even feel sorry.

Is that the kind of person you are? A sick, violent freak?

But it was self-defense!

But if you hadn’t tried to draw the demobats away, you wouldn’t have been in that situation. You went against the plan. You caused all the bad things that happened to you.

You’re a bad person. A bad omen. A bad girlfriend. A bad daughter. A—

“Hey, can you hear me? Y/N?”

Steve’s soft, slightly panicked, voice brings you back down to reality.

You nod, eyes still shut.

“Sorry,” you say. “I don’t—I don’t know what happened.”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, still speaking quietly as if he’s afraid to scare you. You don’t feel his hands on you anymore, but you sense he’s still close. “It’s okay. Can you sit up? I think you should drink something.”

You sit up slowly and open your eyes. Steve looks frazzled, but he musters up a smile when he hands you a glass of cold water.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“You don’t have to apologize.”

You don’t respond, just take a sip.

“Can we just go to bed?” you say after a moment, voice cracking.

Steve nods and gives your knee a gentle squeeze.

“Of course. And, hey, listen, we don’t have to have sex anytime soon, okay?”

“But—”

“No, seriously,” Steve says, shaking his head vehemently. “I mean, of course I like having sex with you. Probably too much.”

You snort and shake your head, a small smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“But you know I don’t mind waiting. Right?”

You nod.

“Yeah, I know.”

But as you lie awake, tossing and turning, your brain continues feeding you lie after lie, and you find yourself believing the opposite. Prude, tease. Bad girlfriend. Bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

The next morning, you, Steve, Gus, Jessica, and Rochelle work on a homecoming float for the club basketball team the boys are on.

It’s fun at first. The parking lot is filled with floats for all different student organizations. Someone is playing music a bit too loud, but the energy is electric.

It takes a turn when Steve rushes off with Gus to get more supplies.

While you’re kneeling by the float trying to staple tinsel trim around the edge, you hear Rochelle and Jessica whispering conspiratorially on the other side. They can’t see you due to a large papier mâché basketball blocking you from view.

You're awash with embarrassment, feeling warm head to toe, when you realize they’re talking about you.

“You know what Mollie told me?” Rochelle said. “When she and Steve were hooking up last year, he called her Y/N, like, three times.”

Your heart shrinks. You didn’t know Steve had been involved with anyone while you were gone. In fact, he said the opposite.

“That’s kind of sweet though, when you think about it,” Jessica muses. “But I wonder what caused Steve and Y/N to break up and then get back together. I’ve never dreamed of breaking up with Gus.”

“I heard some other super freaky stuff about her,” Rochelle says. “My sorority sister, Tina, is from Hawkins too. Apparently, Y/N had, like, amnesia or some shit after that earthquake thing. And she was like missing.”

“Damn,” Jessica says. “That’s crazy. How’d she remember stuff and get back home?”

“Who gives a shit?” Rochelle scoffs. “That’s obviously a cover story. Tina said the real story is probably something much simpler. Like she ran away to become a stripper but couldn’t hack it because she doesn’t have a good body. And, well, we’ve seen that firsthand.”

Anger and shame courses through your veins, and you tug on the hem of your sweatshirt. You’re comforted only a miniscule amount when you hear Jessica come to your defense.

“Don’t be such a jerk. And we have no idea what really happened so stop making shit up, mkay?”

“I’m just repeating what I heard. But Tina’s right, her whole deal is so weird. I can’t believe she’s Steve’s girlfriend. He deserves better.”

Those words echo in your head. He deserves better. He deserves better. You’ve been thinking that a lot yourself lately.

You don’t care if Jessica and Rochelle see you when you toss your stapler onto the ground and stomp off.

“Oh, shit,” you hear Jessica say. “Nice going, Roche.”

“It’s not my fault! I didn’t know she was creeping around!”

As you beeline through the throngs of float-makers, you bump into Steve, holding a box of glittery something. He grins at you.

“Hey, where’s the fire?”

When he notices the grim look on your face, he sobers up.

“Whoa, what happened?”

“Who’s Mollie?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Steve pales. He swallows hard, grip on the box loosening. He gingerly sets it on the ground next to him and shrugs.

“No one.”

“Liar.”

Steve glances around before leading you away from the crowd to a secluded spot on the outskirts of the parking lot.

“She really was no one,” Steve repeats. “Just some girl I had a class with. I was lonely and she liked me, so we went out twice.”

“I heard Rochelle say you hooked up with her,” you say. You cross your arms and try to keep angry tears at bay. “You told me you didn’t find anybody else.”

“I didn’t!” Steve says, a little louder. He clears his throat. “I meant that. We almost hooked up, but I couldn’t stop thinking of you.”

You sigh and shake your head. You want to believe him so badly. But the voice in your head that’s been so cruel to you lately isn’t convinced.

“Do you still think about her?”

Steve scrunches up his face, wholly confused at your line of questioning.

“What? No, of course not. Like I said, we hung out twice, had one near-miss, and then never spoke again. Babe, is everything okay?”

He reaches a hand to your arm and you flinch away. Your action makes him frown deeper.

You rub your forehead.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say. “Just tired.”

A beat. You think Steve’s going to accept your answer, until: “Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying!” you say, irritation creeping into your tone. “I’m just tired. Okay, Steve?”

Steve fidgets from foot to foot. He’s starting to look as agitated as you feel. With an annoyingly calm, even voice, he says, “I think you’re not being honest.”

“And I think you should shut up,” you fire back, before you can stop yourself.

Steve’s face contorts into a frown, the line between his brows deepening.

“Whoa, what the hell?” he says. “Why are you being like this?”

“Because I just found out you lied about not being involved with someone while I was gone!”

Steve rubs his face with his hands, as if he’s trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. He takes a deep breath, another one, and then finally speaks.

“Y/N, I thought you were dead,” he says, voice strained. “You can’t seriously be jealous of me spending time with someone else because to my knowledge, I was never going to see you again.”

You know you should apologize for your outburst. Tell him about your insecurities, now dialed up to 1000 thanks to Rochelle’s comments. Rejoin his friends at the float like the normal girlfriend he probably wishes you were.

But instead, you find yourself voicing one of the fears that’s been swirling in your brain since June.

“It would be so much easier for you if that was still the case, right?” you ask, softly.

“Excuse me?” Steve asks.

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask. “Bringing me back?” He doesn’t react, doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. You clear your throat and, louder, add, “Because it would be so much simpler for you to date a girl like Mollie or Rochelle.”

“Jesus, Y/N,” Steve groans. “Don’t bring Rochelle into this.”

“Why not? She’s obviously obsessed with you!”

“Yeah?” Steve scoffs. “Well, I don’t like her. I like you.” He shakes his head, as if he’s short-circuiting, and corrects, “I love you!”

Too late. You already heard the Freudian slip of your worst nightmare. He doesn’t regard you in the same way he did before your so-called death. You’ve changed too much.

You shake your head vehemently.

“No,” you say. “No. You loved the girl I was before it all happened.”

“You’re still the same girl!”

“I’m not!” you shout. You’re so angry, so upset, so emotional, you can’t stop. You’re floating above your body and watching yourself speak when you say, “I’m not. She’s gone, and sometimes I wish you’d never brought me back so I wouldn’t feel like this.”

Steve goes still once more. When he finally replies, his voice is dangerously quiet: “How dare you say that.”

You hadn’t expected that. You’d expected him to swoop in with comforting platitudes. To hug you and promise it would all be okay. To truly hear the words you’re saying—the thoughts you’ve been too afraid to voice in therapy, thoughts you’ve sugarcoated in your mind to lessen that bitter feeling on your tongue when you finally speak them aloud.

“What?” you whisper. Your eyes sting, unshed tears collecting on your lash line.

“How dare you say that,” Steve says, shaking his head. He’s angrier than you’ve ever seen him. He runs a hand through his hair and barks out a laugh so hollow, you can practically hear the echo in his ribcage. “That’s so fucking selfish that you wish you were still down there. I was miserable without you. I didn’t want to go on. I didn’t think I could!”

He's not getting what you’re trying to say. You open your mouth to reply, to apologize, to try and fix things, but Steve continues.

“So for you to be so callous, to think so little of me, to think I’d rather date some vapid airhead just because it would be ‘simpler’? To think I somehow can’t love you anymore because of what you went through? That’s just…bullshit!”

You heave out a sob as tears roll down your cheeks. Steve’s expression morphs into one of guilt. He swallows hard.

“Y/N, I—”

“You don’t get to tell me my feelings are bullshit!” you snap. You sniffle and roughly wipe your tears away, before jabbing a finger into his chest and pressing in. “Ever since I’ve been back, it’s all about how everyone else feels about it. You and my parents are so much happier, and you seem to think I can snap back to how I was before and forget it all happened and be grateful that I survived. Well, I can’t!”

Despite your distance from the parade planning festivities, you see a few curious students glance in your direction. You can’t be bothered to care.

“I don’t know how to go on with life like normal after 15 months in that hell, and no one understands what I’m going through!” you yell. “No one has been through that! And I’m miserable and scared and anxious and I’m lying to my therapist week after week because I can’t even verbalize what I’m thinking without feeling like I’m losing my goddamn mind. So sorry if sometimes I wish all this would go away.”

Steve’s facial expression cracks your heart in seventeen pieces. He looks devastated and confused.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, somewhat cautiously. “You’re right. I’m not handling this well, not seeing it from your point of view. But this is the most you’ve expressed how you’re feeling about it all. For the past few months, I—I don’t know. I thought you were feeling okay.”

You sniffle again and shrug.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N,” Steve says. He clears his throat. “This is good, I think. Well, no, it’s not good that we’re screaming at each other in the quad. But getting our feelings out is—”

“I want to go home,” you say, cutting him off.

Steve closes his eyes, sighs softly, and nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll drive you back to Hawkins tonight.”

“No, I want to go now,” you say, voice cracking as you try not to cry harder. “I want my mom to come get me.”

Hurt flashes on Steve’s features. “Babe, are you sure? I really don’t mind. I want to, actually. The drive will give us more of a chance to talk.”

But you’re too tired and overwhelmed to talk anymore. Steve understands, though his shoulders are slumped as the two of you walk back to his apartment.

He offers to pack your bag while you call your house. Your mom picks up on the second ring.

“Hello, Y/L/N residence.”

“Mom?” you sniff. “Can you come get me?”

“Oh, of course sweetie!” You hear the jingle of car keys. “Wait, are you crying? What’s wrong? Was it another nightmare?”

“I just don’t want to be here anymore.”

“Did you and Steve have a fight?”

“His friends were really mean,” you say quietly, deciding not to disclose that you indeed got in an argument with Steve. “This girl, Rochelle, said one of her friends from Hawkins is telling everyone I was a stripper.”

“Oh, don’t you listen to that.”

You can’t hold back tears as you begin to cry harder.

“How come everyone makes up those dumb rumors?” you say through sobs. “And if people on campus already know them, how much worse will it be if I’m a student here?!”

Your mom soothes you over the phone before promising to get there as quickly as possible. As you hang up the phone, Steve comes in from down the hall, frowning and carrying your now-packed duffel. He doesn’t even try to be subtle about his eavesdropping when he asks, “Why didn’t you tell me Rochelle said that to you?”

You shrug and look down at your feet.

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I keep replaying our conversation in my head,” he says, “and I feel like an ass.”

“You’re not, Steve.”

“No! I am. I absolutely am. You were honest and vulnerable, and I immediately got mad. I’m so, so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say flatly. Admittedly, you’re not sure if you forgive him yet. But you know you didn’t treat him well either, so you say, “I’m sorry too. I was insensitive. I know you had a hard time while I was gone—”

“But it’s nothing compared to what you were dealing with,” Steve says. He steps closer to you and intertwines your hands together. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

“My mom’s already on her way,” you say. “And you should rest up. Tomorrow’s the parade, and the homecoming game.”

“I don’t need to go to the game.”

“Steve—”

“I’d rather come back to Hawkins this weekend,” he continues. “Spend more time with you. Talk things through, you know? Maybe I can just ride with you and your mom, and Munson can bring me back Sunday.”

He’s sweet. But you aren’t sure how to tell him that you really, really don’t want to be around him right now. You don’t want to be around anyone, really.

You take a deep breath, gently drop his hands, and say, “I think I need some space.”

You can’t look Steve in the eye, but you hear the pain in his voice when he says, “Oh. Um, okay. Yeah. Of course. Space.”

You two sit in awkward silence while you wait for your mom to arrive. When she gets there, Steve continues to be a gentleman, carrying your bag for you and politely making small talk with your mom. He gives you a hug goodbye, but it doesn’t linger the way his hugs usually do.

As your mom drives away, you watch your boyfriend get smaller and smaller in the side mirror.

Before leaving, you promised him you’d call him that night.

You conveniently “forget” to do that.

He leaves a message at 9:37 p.m., asking you to call him back.

You don’t.

🫀🫀🫀

NOVEMBER 1987

“Hey, babe. It’s Steve. Again. I know we agreed on ‘space’ but I haven’t heard from you in three weeks…I don’t want to rush or smother you, but I’d really like to talk, even if it’s for, like, five minutes. So please call me back. I love you, Y/N.”

“Hey Y/N. Are you doing okay? Robin says she saw you and your mom at the store the other day and you just seemed kind of…out of it. To be honest, I’m worried about you. Listen, even if you don’t…even if we…even if you’ve decided you don’t want to be with me anymore, or something, I still care about you. And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. Please call me. Bye. Love you.”

“Hi Y/N, I’m coming back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving. Can I come by after you and your parents have dinner? I want to check in. On how you’re doing, and on how you’re feeling about ‘us.’ Let me know, okay? Bye, Y/N.”

“Hey. I’m going to swing by your place after I’ve finished Thanksgiving dinner with the Buckleys. Robin told me you’ve been avoiding her too. And Eddie, and Jonathan. I know you’re going through a tough time, but don’t try to do it alone. That’s a lesson I learned the hard way last year. I’ll see you tonight, all right?”

🫀🫀🫀

You’ve spent the past month and a half wallowing. All you really do is sleep, eat, shower, and take short walks around your neighborhood for exercise. Any time Steve calls the house phone, you tell your parents to let it ring and let it go to voicemail.

It’s shitty of you, but you aren’t sure how to dig yourself out of this hole that you’ve found yourself in. You’re still feeling rather undeserving of Steve.

So when he shows up on your doorstep on Thanksgiving, wearing that maroon sweater that you’ve always just adored, the first thing you do is apologize for your radio silence. Then, you offer him pumpkin pie.

“I won’t say no,” he says. “As long as you split it with me.”

While your parents cuddle on the couch and watch It’s A Wonderful Life, you and Steve sit on the kitchen counter and eat slices of pie with whipped cream.

For a few minutes, you exchange small talk and pleasantries. Then, Steve gets down to business.

“How have you been doing, really?” Steve asks.

“Fine. Just tired.”

“Y/N,” Steve says with a sigh. “Please just be honest with me.”

You suck in a breath.

“Okay. You want honesty? I’m having a really hard time.”

“I know,” Steve says gently. “And I want to help. Can you talk to me about what’s going on?”

You consider it. You consider wrenching your heart open for him and admitting all your fears and insecurities. But last time you broached this subject with Steve and tried to be wholly honest about what you were feeling, you didn’t explain it right and he took it the wrong way.

And you also hear what sounds like Rochelle’s voice in your mind: He deserves better. He deserves better.

You save yourself the trouble and say, “I need to get my shit together. And I’m not being a very good girlfriend while I do, so I think we need to break up.”

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel tears coming on. Everything only worsens when you hear Steve whisper, “What?”

He deserves better. He deserves better. He deserves better than you.

“I have to focus on myself right now,” you continue as the tears roll down your cheeks. You stab your pie with your fork and say, “I’m sorry. I love you so much—”

“I love you too, Y/N, so I—”

“—but I need to deal with this on my own. It’s not fair of me to treat you like this.” You clear your throat and add, “You deserve someone who can give you everything you want.”

“You’re what I want,” Steve says. You can’t look at him, but you get the impression that he’s tearing up too. “I mean, if this is really what you want, I’ll respect your decision completely, but I just have to know—is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

You don’t want to do this—

—but he deserves better.

“I’m sorry, but no.”

“You don’t have to do this alone,” Steve says after a beat. “Even if we aren’t together anymore, I’m still here for you. You know that, right?”

You nod, still decimating your pie slice with your fork.

“Okay, good.” He sniffles.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to keep apologizing.”

“Sorry. Ah, I mean—”

Steve chuckles, despite everything. You two share an awkward hug goodbye before he leaves.

You stay in the kitchen and hear him wish your parents “Happy holidays.” As you hear the front door open and shut, as you hear his car turn on and drive away, you try to convince yourself this was the correct choice. That shutting him out means he’ll live a happier life without you.

The pit of emptiness like a chasm in your soul will go away eventually, right?

🫀🫀🫀

FEBRUARY 1988

It’s been 3 months since you broke up with Steve.

You decided to defer your U of I enrollment. Steve, being a good friend, calls a few days before the semester starts asking if you’d like help moving into your dorm, and you break the news to him. He understands but sounds disappointed. It makes you feel terrible.

But this is the right choice. You aren’t ready to be away from home, away from your parents, even if it’s just a couple hours away.

You start taking community college classes to fill your time and get some credits, along with working at Bradley’s Big Buy as a stocker. It’s mindless, monotonous work. It’s kind of perfect.

What isn’t so perfect is your therapist, Elaine. She’s nice enough. But she doesn’t seem to get it. You aren’t able to fully tell her what you went through, considering she knows nothing about the Upside Down, so she can’t really help you.

When you start opening up about the dark thoughts worming their way through your mind, Elaine advocates strongly and staunchly for putting yourself out there and making new friends to fill the void. You’re starting to wonder if you’re wasting your time shelling out $50 a week.

You do think a better social life would be good for you, so you invite Robin, Eddie, and Jonathan to come over to your place for a horror movie marathon. (Nancy would be invited too, if she wasn’t away at school.) You’ve rented a D-level slasher trilogy about a man in a hockey mask attacking pageant queens. It’s small potatoes compared to what you’ve actually been through.

Jonathan agrees, but both Robin and Eddie tell you they can’t make it. Robin because she’s got the flu. Eddie because he has band practice all afternoon and into the night.

It stings like a barb ripping you open when you swing by Melvald’s for cheap movie candy and spot the two of them across the street, laughing as they head into the Hawk with…Steve, who must be home from school for the weekend.

So they do want to have a movie night. Just with Steve and not you. Message received.

You wonder if Steve said something to sour you in their eyes. You thought the breakup was amicable. You know he was upset by it, but he respected your decision. And he doesn’t seem like the type to badmouth an ex, especially after all you’ve been through together.

But anxiety rolls through your nervous system the rest of the day. As you and Jonathan watch the crappy movies, you just feel numb.

“Jee-sus!” Jonathan yelps as the killer’s chainsaw hacks through someone’s limb.

He glances your way, eyebrows raising. “What? That didn’t scare you?”

You shrug. “I’ve seen worse.”

Jonathan’s brow furrows. He leans over and pauses the movie.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? We can watch something else. Or, if you’d rather be alone, I can head out.”

You pick at a loose thread on the pillow in your lap.

“Are Robin and Eddie mad at me?” you whisper.

“What?” Jonathan says with a laugh. “You’re, like, the nicest person in a fifty-mile radius. Why would they be mad at you?”

The old you was nice. The current you is moody. But Jonathan is also pretty moody, so maybe your moodiness is baseline in his eyes.

“They both said they couldn’t come tonight,” you continue, “but then I saw them just an hour ago in downtown Hawkins heading into the Hawk with Steve. Why else would they make up excuses not to come unless they were mad?”

Jonathan takes a long, slow sip of his grape soda and shrugs.

“It’s probably because they don’t want you to think they chose Steve over you in the breakup.”

“But that’s exactly what they did!”

“Maybe not,” Jonathan says. “Maybe they just made the plans with Steve before you invited us over and it’s easier to turn down your invitation than cancel on him.”

That’s a very logical way of looking at it, but it still stings feeling like you’ve lost two friends since you and Steve aren’t together anymore.

You and Jonathan continue watching, but his mom calls halfway through the second movie, forcing him to leave early—something about El using telekinesis to turn her bed into a bunk bed and it backfiring horribly.

You try to push your worries out of your mind, but paranoia takes a hold. As you toss and turn in your bed that night, clutching Lambchop for a semblance of comfort, your brain bullies you.

Robin and Eddie are pissed at you. Probably because you haven’t gone to any Corroded Coffin shows since you’ve been back. You’ve been a little preoccupied.

A little selfish, more like. It doesn’t matter what you’re going through. You should still support your friends.

But why? You don’t like drinking alcohol anymore because you don’t like feeling out of control. And the Hideout is the only place Corroded Coffin plays, and that place reeks of booze and cigarettes and bad decisions.

Maybe that’s why Eddie’s mad. Is Robin mad by proxy? Did Steve shit-talk you to her? How did he describe the events of the breakup?

Were you a bad girlfriend? Are you a bad friend? Bad person?

Yes. You’re a bad person.

🫀🫀🫀

You happen to run into Robin on the community college’s campus the following Monday. You can’t help but ask if she’s feeling better.

Her eyes widen and she plasters on a smile.

“O-oh, yeah!” she says. “I’m feeling loads better. Tons! Tons better.”

“Your sinus infection is gone?” you prompt, knowing full well she told you it was the flu.

“Yep! All gone. My sinuses are as healthy as can be. I feel like I could live to be 100!”

You exchange a few more pleasantries and shuffle off.

🫀🫀🫀

MARCH 1988

There’s a dark cloud hovering over your mind. Most days, you’re lethargic. You go to classes and go to work, and you do start going to the Hideout on Tuesday nights with Jonathan and Robin to watch Eddie play with his band.

But that’s the extent of your social life. You’re feeling lonely and drained.

Things take a turn for the worse in March. It was a cold, cold winter in Hawkins, and spring is shaping up to be warmer but just as gloomy. Really bad thunderstorms shake the windowpanes of your house most days, and the streaks of lightning remind you so much of the grayish-yellow Upside Down sky, it makes you sick.

You can’t help but find yourself thinking you want to disappear to escape it all. Not die, exactly. But fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Maybe when you woke up, things would be better.

You try to explain what you’re feeling to Elaine the Therapist, and she doesn’t understand what you meant in the slightest.

“Have you gotten checked for narcolepsy?” she asks.

You give her a tight smile and say you’ll ask your doctor about it at your next checkup.

A bright spot is when Robin invites you to a party at her apartment. You forgot her and Eddie’s little white lie from a few weeks ago and RSVP yes.

The party is going well. You’re having a nice conversation with Jonathan and Eddie when Steve walks in, and he’s not alone.

Your heart sinks to your feet, through the floor, and all the way to the core of the earth when you see Steve is joined by Rochelle.

You don’t even hear any of the conversations happening around you. You quickly excuse yourself to the kitchen for a glass of water—and because you need to be alone.

You get about 15 seconds of a reprieve before Steve enters.

“Listen, it’s not what you think,” he says quickly.

“Hello to you too, Steve,” you say. You can’t even look him in the eye, choosing instead to study the ice cubes in your glass.

“I’m not here with Rochelle,” Steve continues. He runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, yes, she’s here. And I’m here. And we’re here together. But not together together! God, I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“None at all.”

“She needed a ride to her parents’ house for the weekend,” Steve explains. “She lives just forty-five minutes from here. But I guess they were out of town, and she didn’t have a key, so she’s staying with me. And she didn’t want to spend all day in my house alone, so—”

“She’s here,” you finish for him. You finally look him in the eye and force a smile. “That’s fine, Steve. You can hang out with whoever you want.”

“Trust me,” Steve snorts. “I’d rather not be hanging out with her. I’m just doing her a favor because she’s friends with Jessica and Gus.”

Before you can respond, Rochelle saunters into the kitchen. She smiles like a shark—all gums and teeth.

“Oh, it’s you!” she says. “Y/N! How have you been?”

“Fine,” you say politely. “How about you?”

“Oh, just great. Really great. Sad to not see you around campus, though. I thought you enrolled?”

She has the impressive capability of making everything single sentence sound like an insult.

“I’m going to community college instead,” you explain. “But I really should get back out there.”

You give Steve and Rochelle a wide berth before stepping back into the living room.

The rest of the party goes by fine. Except you can’t quite contain your rage watching Rochelle throw herself at Steve all afternoon.

She sits too close to him. She constantly whispers in his ear and giggles, like they’re sharing inside jokes and secrets. While Robin’s putting on a movie for everyone to watch, you swear you even see Rochelle put her hand on Steve’s thigh.

The only thing that makes you feel better is that Steve blocks every one of these advances. While Eddie regales you all with a Corroded Coffin storytime, you even notice Steve's slotted himself in between Robin and the wall, forcing Rochelle to stand off to the side near a potted plant.

When the party’s over, you wish Robin well and try to slip out unnoticed. Unfortunately, Steve has a terrible habit of noticing everything about you, and he follows you out.

“Hey, wait up!” he calls, jogging behind you as you speed walk to your car to avoid the sprinkling rain.

“Sorry, I have to go,” you say, struggling to unlock your car door.

Before you can get it unlocked and make your escape, Steve places a hand over the driver’s side door handle.

“Hold on,” he says. “Can we go somewhere and talk?”

“Well, I have to get home—”

“This’ll take five minutes,” Steve promises. He traces an X over his heart. “Cross my heart, hope to cry.”

You scrunch your nose in confusion. “It’s ‘die.’”

“Huh?”

“It’s ‘Cross my heart, hope to die. Stick a needle in my eye.’”

Steve’s eyes widen and jaw drops, affronted. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles. “Why would anyone ever want to do that?”

“That’s the point!” you say, and you can’t help but laugh at the appalled look on his face. “You don’t want to do that, so you keep the promise.”

“Ah. Okay, well, I’ll be fast. I just want to see how you’ve been doing these past few months. I—I miss you, you know?”

You swallow hard. The rain’s starting to pick up now. You don’t want to wait too much longer to drive home, or else it’ll be too hard to see. And if you see lightning, you’ll probably have a panic attack behind the wheel, making you a danger to yourself and others.

“I miss you too,” you say. “But I really, really need to get home now.”

You think of leaving it at that, but your heart feels as sad as the look on his face, so you add, “But you can come by my house later tonight and we can talk? Uh, how’s 8 sound?”

Steve’s face brightens. He gives you that smile that always makes your stomach do a backflip.

“I’d like that,” he says.

You smile back and open your car door. Before stepping in, you turn to him and say, “Do not bring Rochelle.”

“Cross my whatever and hope to who-gives-a-shit!” Steve says as he walks backward away from your car. You give him a small wave, which he returns, before getting in the car and driving off.

As you suspected, the drive home is much, much too anxiety-inducing. Thunder seems to shake the whole frame of the car as you drive across town. Rain falls in pails, as if angels are taking buckets and throwing them on your car specifically. Your windshield wipers can barely keep up, and cars are honking and passing you since your fear is causing you to drive about ten under the speed limit.

You try not to let that bother you as your hands grip the wheel for dear life, the muscles from your fingers up to your shoulders impossibly tense. There’s a reason your mom drove you everywhere last summer and fall. Getting back into the habit of operating a motor vehicle isn’t easy, and everything seems to scare you now.

Despite everything, the drive is going fine—until one of the cars passing you cuts a little too close as they swerve back into the right lane. They almost clip your front bumper, which causes you to panic and swerve off the road near the now defunct trailer park.

Your tires squeak on the wet grass and you slam on your breaks, heart pounding. Shuddery breaths draw in, out. In, out. You try and collect yourself and turn your left turn signal on to merge back onto the main road. However, something gray out of the corner of your eye causes you to whip your head in the direction of the trailer park.

This is where you died and were resurrected—well, the version of this in the Upside Down. In Hawkins, the area is cordoned off. No one can live there anymore, thanks to the big cracks in the earth. Once gates, they were now sealed, but they upended some trailers and tore others in two.

You see a flash of movement between two broken trailers. The gates are supposed to be closed, and there aren’t supposed to be Upside Down creatures in Hawkins anymore, but you can’t help but wonder alternatives. You feel compelled to check it out.

You turn off your car’s ignition, grab the flashlight from your glove box, and clamor out, ducking under the “CAUTION” tape and jogging into the park. You squint in the rain, the beam of your flashlight scanning the surrounding area. You step over uneven earth, wondering if you’re wasting your time and should just—

“GRRRRRROWWWLLLL!!!!!”

You whip around and gasp. The gray creature you saw wasn’t a demo-creature, but a mangy, stray dog with muddy fur. It snaps its jaws and you see three little puppies cowering under a bush behind it.

An overprotective mama dog wouldn’t have scared you two years ago. You would’ve known exactly how to handle the situation without freaking out. But now, your fear spikes and you remember the few run-ins with hungry demodogs you had in the Upside Down. The dog is blocking your way back to your car, so you turn on your heel and run in the opposite direction, toward the imposing forest.

You can’t think clearly. Your mind is on fire. All you can think is Danger! Danger! Danger! And it’s keeping you from making any rational decisions.

You swear you hear the dog chasing behind you, snarling and ready to attack. You zig-zag between trees and glance behind to see if you really are being chased.

You lose your footing on slick mud, left ankle twisting painfully as you fall to the ground. Your flashlight skitters out of your grasp and rolls away, blinking out.

Now, you’re stuck in the rain, in the dark, with an injured ankle and no flashlight. Thankfully, the dog wasn’t following. But you feel powerless, hoping you can muster any survival instincts from your time in the Upside Down to make your way back to safety.

🫀🫀🫀

At 7:58 p.m., Steve parks outside your house.

He’s more nervous than he needs to be. He tries to remember that this isn’t a visit to win you back, as much as he wishes it was. No, he’s respecting your decision. But he’s glad he has the chance to just talk to you.

After you dumped him, he spent way too much time overanalyzing that fight you two had in October. It solidified the fact that he was an ass, completely misunderstanding you and getting mad for no good fucking reason.

Admittedly, he was tempted to throw away all his progress and drink away his misery. But he didn’t, channeling that energy toward more productive things. His mind is clearer than it was, and he’s going to make it right this time. Steve wants to check on you, the way his friends checked on him while he was having a tough time. Their support was invaluable.

Steve rings your doorbell, shaking out his umbrella.

The front door swings open. Your father looks expectant, before he frowns.

“Steve, hello,” your father says. “Is Y/N with you?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “Uh, no,” he says. “I’m supposed to meet her here.”

Your father curses and puts his head in his hands.

“Is it her?” your mother says, rushing around the corner with the cordless phone tucked under her shoulder. When she sees Steve, her shoulders slump. She speaks into the phone, “Hopper, she’s still not back.”

“What’s going on?” Steve asks, heart sinking. “Y/N’s missing?”

“She never came back from Robin’s party,” your father says, stepping aside to let Steve in. “You saw her leave, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve says with a nod. His mouth feels very, very dry.

Your mother continues murmuring on the phone with Hopper, and your father continues grilling Steve: “How was she? Did she seem upset?”

“A little nervous, maybe,” Steve says. He swallows hard. “I, uh, I think she was freaked out by the storm.”

You should’ve driven her home, Steve thinks. You idiot. If something happens to her, it’ll be your fault.

“She’s been so quiet lately,” your father says, voice strained. He clears his throat. “And so jumpy. But she said she wanted to start driving again. We thought she was getting better…”

Your father looks like he’s beside himself. Steve is unsure what to say to make things right.

Your mother hangs up the phone and sighs. “Hopper’s going to go look for her,” she says. She chokes out a sob. “Oh, Roger…she’s been so down lately. What if she…”

“Let’s not speculate,” your father says firmly, though he looks anxious about the possibilities.

Your parents decide to drive around looking for you, and Steve joins the search in his own car as well. He can’t sit idly by knowing you’re out there, possibly in distress, possibly in danger.

🫀🫀🫀

While you’re sitting against a tree trunk trying to shield yourself from the rain, there’s a morbid part of you that’s okay with this.

You wanted something bad to happen. You wanted to be in some kind of distress, because you being hurt means people have to care about you. Right? They have to really, truly see that you’ve been struggling but haven’t been able to ask for proper help.

You snap yourself out of that thought process, trying to remind yourself that people do care about you. But it’s hard to feel that way when you’ve put so much distance between yourself and the people you love.

You aren’t sure how long you sit in the rain having a pity party, watching your swollen ankle get bigger and bigger. You need to ice it and elevate it. And anytime longer in this rain, you’ll catch a cold.

So, you crawl on your hands and knees and find as sturdy a branch as you can on the forest floor. You use it as a pseudo walking stick to help you hobble back toward the trailer park. You know the way, thanks to your time traversing the forest daily in the Upside Down.

As you get closer to the break in the trees, you hear people calling for you. You shuffle there faster.

“I’m here!” you yell, stumbling through the tree line. “I’m here!”

It’s Chief Powell and Hopper, and they look relieved to see you. Officer Callahan and an animal control worker are trying to coax the mama dog and her three pups into crates.

“What happened, kid?” Hopper asks, sitting with you in the backseat of Powell’s truck while the other man radios for an ambulance and a tow truck for your car. The usual gruff timbre to Hopper's voice has a softened edge to it today, like he can sense your emotional fragility.

“Some jerk pushed me off the road. And I thought I saw…I—listen, the mud made the dog’s fur look gray, and I thought it was—”

“One of these hellhounds?”

You nod.

“I’m not sure if you realize this,” Hopper says. “But it’s been two years to the day since you…you know.”

You swallow hard.

“I didn’t remember,” you admit. “I mean, I knew the anniversary was coming up soon, I just…”

“We were all worried you…did something,” Hopper continues cautiously.

“I wouldn’t,” you say, much too quickly. “I mean, I feel like shit a lot of the time, but…no. I wouldn’t.”

Hopper nods, eyeing you. He doesn’t quite look convinced.

When the ambulance arrives, he rides with you to the hospital. Then, your parents meet you at the ER, while a doctor looks over your ankle.

It’s sprained, but not broken, thankfully. They send you home with a brace, some crutches, painkillers, and instructions to elevate and ice.

The whole drive home, your parents give you a speech about how much they love you and how they want to know how you’re doing, and that if you ever feel low, to talk to them because they can help. Normally, that kind of thing would annoy you, but after today—the fear of seeing what you thought was a demodog, of being back in the wilderness by yourself, even just for a few hours—you appreciate the gesture.

It's after midnight when you get home, and the rain has finally let up. Your dad helps you up the porch stairs, leaning the side with your bad leg against him the whole way. You almost don’t notice the note tacked to the front door until your mom points it out.

It has your name on it. You open it. Parts of it have been scratched out, but you can still read it all.

Hey, Y/N. I was driving around looking for you when Hopper found me. I’m so glad to hear that you’re going to be okay.

I’ll swing by tomorrow to chat, if you’re still up for it. If not, no worries. I know it’s a tough time. I just want you to know that I miss you I care about you more than you know I’m here.

-Steve

🫀🫀🫀

When Steve comes by the next day, he’s not alone.

You’re surprised to see him and Max Mayfield standing on your porch.

“Uh, hello!” you say. “How are you, Max?”

“Pretty good,” she says, “now that Steve is taking us for ice cream.”

You raise your eyebrows and adjust your stance on your crutches.

“Oh!” you say. You look to Steve. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. Everything about his posture is tense, nervous. You wonder if this is an intervention or something—if you’ll arrive at the ice cream shop and be bombarded by the rest of your friends and a licensed professional promising a “safe space.”

You tell your parents where you’re going, promising a million times that you’ll be careful, and hobble down the porch steps to Steve’s waiting car. He’s a gentleman, one hand hovering behind your back and ready to catch you if you fall.

Max lets you have the passenger seat, likely due to your injury. On the ride over, you consider (politely) asking what she’s doing there, as you expected this conversation would be about the nature of your and Steve’s relationship.

A part of you deep, deep down had hoped he would beg you to take him back. A part of you deeper down felt selfish for that, but it was what you wanted.

You made a huge mistake letting him go.

Steve ends up taking you both to Sonic, pulling into one of the parking spots and pressing the “Order” button. Max leans up from the backseat, sticking her head between the two front seats, and rattles off a complicated order of hot dogs, fries, slushies, and ice cream into the speaker.

“I thought this was just ice cream,” you say with an eyebrow raised.

Max smirks.

“Moneybags Harrington is paying,” she says, patting him on the shoulder.

“I resent that,” Steve grouses. But there’s a sparkle in his eye.

When the food comes, Steve divvies it up amongst the three of you. However, he quickly comes up with a shoddy excuse to step out of the car—something about the fries being a medium instead of a large.

Max climbs over the center console to settle in the driver’s seat.

You aren’t sure what to expect when you’re alone with Max, but it’s definitely not, “Dying and coming back really sucks, doesn’t it?”

Your burger immediately tastes like sandpaper. “Oh, let’s not talk about that,” you say. “Let’s talk about fun things. Have you learned any new skate tricks recently?”

“Don’t deflect,” Max says, waving a french fry at you for emphasis. “Steve said you were having a hard time because no one could relate to you, and I’m probably the only person in the world who can.”

She’s not wrong. After your return to the right side of the universe, you learned that Max woke up from her coma, completely healed, after you killed Vecna and the gates closed. You hadn’t thought about how the two of you had similar, paralleled experiences.

“It does suck,” you say quietly, swirling your spoon around in your ice cream cup. “And I kind of feel like I’m losing my mind.”

“For me, it was a lot of anger,” Max says. She fidgets with her own food as she continues. “I couldn’t understand people’s priorities anymore. Like, what do you mean you’re worried about a chem test, Dustin? A few months ago, the world almost ended!”

“I totally get that,” you say, and your heart already feels lighter. “And my parents don’t understand what really happened, so they just don’t get me at all. Why I get so scared, so angry. So jumpy. It makes me feel like I’m a freak in their eyes.”

“I feel like my mom doesn’t even see me anymore,” Max says. She clears her throat and you catch a glimpse of tears gathering on her lash line before she roughly wipes them away. “Like to her, I’m a ghost.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you say. She scoffs.

“And there’s another annoying thing,” Max says. “The empty platitudes to make us feel better. That shit doesn’t fix anything!”

You’re not offended by her outburst, because you honestly agree. The two of you lament a bit longer, and by the end of the conversation, you’re feeling on top of the world. Sure, nothing is really fixed. But you finally realize that you have a kindred spirit in all this.

You and Max make a plan to do things together more often. You’re seeing her as a de facto little sister already, and you’re hopeful that your planned meetings will be just as beneficial for her as they are for you.

Steve comes back after what seems like a millennium, shooing Max back to the backseat.

“Took you long enough!” she says.

He just smiles.

🫀🫀🫀

JUNE 1988

It’s the first day of summer.

And it’s been a year to the day since you returned.

You expect to feel more anxious than you do. Instead, you feel peaceful.

You’re doing a lot better, genuinely. You found a new therapist (sorry, Elaine) and since it’s someone who worked with Dr. Owens, you’re able to spill all the gory details of your past and your trauma. Healing isn’t easy, but you feel yourself slowly sewing yourself back together again.

You and Max stick to your word and take weekly trips to Sonic. You talk about the heavy stuff, but also the normal life stuff. You sometimes have guests. This past week, Lucas and Mike tagged along, arguing the whole time about what should happen in the Ghostbusters sequel that’s supposed to release next year.

You and Steve…ah, what’s there to say. You want him back, but you imploded the relationship and it feels selfish to waltz up to him and say, “Hey, hot stuff. Wanna get back together?”

However, you’ve officially enrolled for the fall semester at U of I. While he’s home from Hawkins for summer break, under the guise of asking for tips about campus life, you spend a lot of time with him.

You also spend time in the library, doing some studying to catch up before you start your classes in the fall. Your high school graduation was a lifetime ago. Literally.

Steve, Robin, and Jonathan join you for those summertime study sessions, although Jonathan and Robin usually bicker over the music theory books and Steve doesn’t get much done except for doodling in his notebook. But sometimes you catch him staring at you, and then his cheeks flush pink in that adorable way that makes you want to do something stupid, like beg him to take you back.

If only you knew if he really felt the same…

…which you find out he does, during the summer solstice.

You’re at the county fair with your friends, but they’ve all run off to watch the fireworks, so it’s just you and Steve at a picnic table downing sodas and cotton candy.

Your fingers wrap around the cool glass of a now-empty Coke bottle, and you place it on the tabletop. You attempt to look nonchalant as you spin it slowly.

Once it’s picked up momentum, you let it go, watching it spin a few more times before stopping it with your hand when the bottle neck points at Steve.

“It’s you,” you whisper, attempting to recreate that magical first kiss moment from years and years ago. You clear your throat at Steve’s dumbfounded expression. “Ah, sorry. You don’t have to kiss me. I was just…”

To your pleasant surprise, Steve’s face splits into a grin. “Well, gee, Y/N,” he says. “If you wanted to kiss me that bad, you could’ve just said so.”

A million canaries titter a love song in your heart as he leans forward.

The two of you kiss, for the first time in a long time.

The great divide in your soul is starting to seal. And everything feels right.

THE END

🫀🫀🫀

a/n please lmk what you thought 🩵

tags; @aloneinthehellfire @starry-eyed-steve @hollandweather @wisdomssdaughterr @huffledor-able541 @springautumn

@sunshinesteviee @curiositydooropened @crappymixtape

#st fic: oj #st fic: tgd #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

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moonstruckme · 1 day

Note

hi mae!!

would you be interested in writing something with steve (or any of the boys you write for) learning asl for their hard of hearing partner?

if not i totally understand!! luv ya 🩷🩷

Hi sweetheart, thanks for requesting!

Steve Harrington x hearing imparied!reader ♡ 558 words

“This is embarrassing,” Robin signs.

“It is not.” You grin, rolling your eyes at her. “It’s sweet. He’s trying.”

“SLOWER,” Steve finger spells, every letter emphatic.

“Sorry,” you say aloud, laughing. “We were just—”

“Just talking about how embarrassing this is for you,” Robin says.

“No,” you look at Steve, but he’s only rolling his eyes, “we weren’t.”

“I’ll bet she was,” he says into your ear, draping an arm across your shoulders. The three of you are taking up the entire sidewalk, not that anyone’s downtown to mind. One of the perks of Steve working the night shift at Family Video is that now he actually wakes up before noon to do things with you before work, and during summer in Hawkins you won’t find many people out in the mornings. It feels like you’ve got the town to yourselves. “Some of us weren’t in the special classes in high school, though.”

“Hey, if you thought it was more worth your time to practice your keg stands,” Robin skips ahead of you, turning around and spreading her hands helplessly, “that was your prerogative. I’m just saying that if anyone is Y/N’s soulmate, it’s looking like it’s me.”

You see the look in Steve’s eyes and know what he’s about to do a second before he signs, “Shut up,” with enough gusto to make Robin’s high school ASL teacher proud. You’d taught him that one last week, and it’s been his favorite sign ever since. His most practiced by far.

Robin only sticks out her tongue. You smile as Steve tugs you closer against his side, his skin and the material of his shirt sun-warmed against your arm. You love how badly he wants to do this for you. Every night for the past couple of weeks, you’ve been teaching him, and though Steve gets frustrated easily, he’s determined. The other day, you’d caught him signing “cereal” absentmindedly to himself while looking through the pantry.

You know he’s learning because he’s a sweetheart and wants to make things easier for you, but Robin swears he just feels left out of the club.

“Okay, I’ve got a question.” Steve retracts his arm and turns to you, walking sideways. His face goes serious as he concentrates. “Do. You. Want. To.” He signs every word, so intentional. Bless him, he’s trying so hard. “Go. Get…” He finishes the last sign, and you and Robin both burst out laughing.

His face falls. “What?” he asks aloud.

“Steve,” you say around a giggle, “where did you learn that?”

Steve looks lost for approximately one more second, and then his eyes narrow on Robin.

“You can’t blame me for taking the easy shot,” she says. There are tears in her eyes. “You’re just too gullible.”

“What did I say?” he asks, and you lean up to whisper in his ear. “Oh my god.” He rolls his eyes at Robin. “What are you, twelve? I was trying to ask if you wanted pizza, you pervs.”

“Maybe just take lessons from me from now on.” You take his hand, intertwining your fingers. Steve huffs and tugs you closer.

“Wait,” he says, “so, does this—” he signs with his free hand “—not mean ice cream?”

“Oh, honey.” You try to look sorry for your boyfriend, but it’s hard when you’re grinning so big. “No, it doesn’t.”

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 days

Text

Teach Me

Steve x bi!fem!reader

Word count: 10,887

Summary: Steve teaches you about dating and in return, you teach him how to really please a woman in the bedroom.

CW: reader has a rough home life, mention of abuse, Eddie and reader are friends with benefits

Part One: The Agreement

Steve had always considered himself a romantic. Seeing his parents together really made him believe in love. The way they would hold hands in the car or at the table when they went out to eat. He loved romance movies and the warm and fuzzy feeling they gave him, hoping that he would find his own love.

He had thought he had it with Nancy, but that obviously didn’t work out. He could still remember their exact conversation before they ended things. She had called him “bullshit” then moved on to Jonathan pretty quickly after that. He didn’t know why he had been thinking about it so many years later. He was over her. At least, that was what he was telling himself.

He knew that the woman for him was out there even if he had to look hard. If he was honest, he had wanted to start something with you. He had been infatuated with you since Eddie had introduced you to the group all those months ago, but he didn’t think he was your type.

“Earth to Steve,” Robin waved her hand in front of his face as they stood in front of the diner that had finally replaced Benny’s.

“Sorry, what?” He turned to her, giving her his full attention again.

“I was asking what you were going to get this time.” The two of them had been plenty of times since the place had opened and were trying to eat everything on the menu. “Thinking about y/n, hm?”

The pair stepped inside and Steve was mesmerized by the bright colors and decor just like always. The whole place had the theme of a classic fifties diner and the floor was a black and white checkered pattern that was so clean that he swore he could see his reflection in it. There were red stools at the bar that seemed to be popular among customers and plenty of empty vinyl booths that were the same color. Waiters and waitresses whizzed by him on roller skates, all either holding trays of food or notepads to scribble down orders.

“No, I was-“

He cut himself off when he noticed you by the jukebox, sitting on the counter and doodling in the notepad you were supposed to be using for orders. He couldn’t help but stare like he did any time he saw you. You had been the only reason why Steve had even agreed to come. He’d go anywhere you were. He had a crush on you ever since you had been introduced to the group and everyone knew because of how obvious he was about it. Everyone but you, of course.

“Uh huh, sure. C’mon,” Robin pulled Steve over to the table where the hostess was leading them to but his eyes were still glued to you.

He was so engrossed in looking for something from the menu that he’d want to order that he didn’t even see you stroll up to the table. Robin had called his name multiple times and when that didn’t work, she kicked his shin under the table.

“Ow, what the hell,” he snapped his head to the girl across from him who nodded her head towards you. Your pretty eyes locked on him and his mouth went dry.

“Hi,” you chuckled at his reaction and he didn’t even care that you were laughing at him, he just liked hearing the sound. “I’m y/n and I’ll be your server today.” You didn’t like the idea of introducing yourself to people you already knew, but you couldn’t risk your manager writing you up again.

“What can I get you started with to drink,” you asked in the tone of voice you used with customers and Steve thought it was weird to see you so bubbly. In the many times they had eaten there, this had only been the second time they had been seated in your section.

“We’re ready to order if that’s okay,” he replied.

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Of course.”

Steve wasn’t your type. He was the kind of guy you’d bring home to your mother and you were more into guys you had to sneak through your window because your parents didn’t approve of them. But that still didn’t stop you from flirting with him or giving him nicknames that you were sure would make him blush.

“I’ll uh-“ he cut himself off. “I’ll have the bacon cheeseburger.”

“That’s a great choice,” you nodded as he handed you his menu. “And for you,” you turned to Robin

“I’ll have the same. And a chocolate shake,” she gave the boy a knowing look, a joke just between the two of them.

“I’ll have that right out for you.” You turned to head to kitchen and Steve didn’t miss that you weren’t wearing skates like the other servers. He watched you until you disappeared behind the door then turned back to Robin who was writing in a small notebook. He grabbed it from her and wished he hadn’t when he saw what was on the page. There was a line down the middle with the words “you rule” on the left and “you suck” on the right. He pushed it back towards her, his mood turning sour.

“You made a portable version?” He hated that stupid game, especially because it was at his expense. He knew he wasn’t doing too hot as far as dating went, he didn’t need to see the proof on paper.

“I sure did.” Robin pulled the notebook back and Steve watched what was she was doing, knowing what column she was adding to but wanted to see for himself.

“Are you putting a tally under the ‘you suck’ column,” he asked in offense. That had to be a new record of how quick she was to do it.

“Yep,” she nodded as she closed the book and put it back in her purse. “I’m saving time. Even though I already gave you one when you first flirted with her.”

“I haven’t even asked her out yet so how do you know that I suck?” He couldn’t believe it. Was that really what it was coming to? Had King Steve finally lost his crown?

“Did you see the way she laughed at you? Sorry, but you can’t come back from that. She totally went back there to tell all the people in the kitchen and they’re all for sure laughing at you right now.”

“You’re mean,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And you’re a dingus. You know, now that I think about it, I actually think you might be able to turn it around. With my help at least. You’re kinda hopeless at this point.” He wanted to correct her, but he knew she was right.

“Gee, thanks, Rob,” he rolled his eyes. “Y/n would never laugh at me.”

“Maybe not to your face. Look, I can hype you up.” Steve knew she could, but was afraid that she would somehow end up revealing something embarrassing about him. She tended to babble so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, especially considering that she had already told you that most of Steve’s friend group was a bunch of teenagers out of context. How could she tell you the real reason when they were all bonded together by trauma from getting sucked into an alternate dimension multiple times? Who was going to believe that?

“I don’t think that’s going to work. Like you said, I’m hopeless.” Robin couldn’t believe that he was already giving up. He was the kind to at least try before he threw in the towel.

“Look, just leave it to me to save your ass once again.”

You exited the kitchen with a tray that carried the pair’s order and headed their way. Steve knew that it wasn’t exactly impressive for a server to be able to carry a tray with one hand, but damn was he mesmerized by the way you did it. The way you were able to dodge everyone in your way without spilling a single drop of Robin’s shake.

You headed their way with a bright smile and Steve was going to tell himself that it was for him specifically and totally not because it was your job to be nice to them.

You set the tray down on the table and Steve couldn’t help but focus on your close proximity. Your uniform was unzipped just enough to where he could see your cleavage and because he was a gentleman, he was trying his best to keep his eyes on your face.

“Here are your burgers,” you set the plates in front of them and grabbed Robin’s shake then set it next to her plate. “And your shake. Can I get you anything else?”

“Actually,” Robin turned her attention to you. “Can we get some ketchup?” You stepped over to the empty table beside them and grabbed the bottle before setting it in the middle of their plates.

“Will that be all?” You actually didn’t mind that Robin kept asking for things. It kept you busy in the lull before the dinner rush.

“I would also like a straw.” Steve knew what Robin was doing and he hated her for it. Could she be anymore obvious?

“Here you go,” you reached into the pocket on your apron and pulled out a straw before handing it to her. As you were doing so, you felt a hand squeeze your shoulder. You turned to your left to see a ringed hand that was attached to the familiar metal head. He was looking at you with a sweet smile and Steve didn’t miss the undeniable connection between the two of you.

Maybe it was because you hadn’t found someone who wasn’t a complete asshole, but you were beginning to think love was a scam. Because who in their right mind would willingly get into a relationship completely unaware if it would last or not? To you, the only way to avoid any type of heartbreak was to be single. You could definitely have your fun, but as soon as feelings were involved, you’d shut down the whole operation and move on to the next person.

That was why your whole thing with Eddie worked. It was a relationship without all the “feelings” bullshit. You could hangout with him outside of the bedroom and would actually enjoy yourself. You’d watch a movie together and he wouldn’t expect you to cuddle with him. Or he’d come over to hookup and bring some weed free of charge just because and not expect anything in return. You had an unexplainable bond and after all the shit you went through, you definitely deserved to have him in your life.

“Hey, l/n,” he greeted with his signature smile. “Miss me?” His hand squeezed your shoulder before letting go. He stood beside you and Steve didn’t miss the way you looked at each other. That wasn’t the way friends looked at each other, was it?

“Hey, Eds,” you smiled back. “Your table’s all ready if you wanna take a seat. I’ll be with you in a minute.”

“You take your time, sweetheart. I don’t mind waiting,” he winked before heading over to his usual table and Steve couldn’t have been more grateful for him leaving. He was jealous of what you had with Eddie even if you weren’t actually dating.

“Is there anything else I can get you guys?” You asked making sure they didn’t need another thing before you headed over to take care of Eddie.

“I think that’s it,” Robin nodded, taking a sip from her milkshake. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you nodded back. “If you need anything else, let me know,” you smiled brightly then headed over to Eddie’s table.

He was looking over the menu even though you both knew exactly what he wanted; a plain cheeseburger and a Coke. He set the menu back on the table and looked up at you with him pretty brown eyes. He gave you his signature smile and you knew exactly why people were interested in him. He always knew exactly what to say to get into people’s pants and you admired him for that. After all, everything you knew about sex was because of him.

You scribbled down Eddie’s order then headed to the kitchen to drop off the slip. You stood at the window and watched Steve from afar, hoping that he wasn’t looking at you. He was definitely the prettiest guy you had ever seen, but you’d never admit that to anyone.

You weren’t usually attracted to guys like Steve so you didn’t know what made him different. Maybe because he was nice to you unlike the other guys in town who weren’t into your style or your personality. You were too aggressive in their eyes. You had too much sexual experience. They all wanted someone sweet and innocent, two things you definitely weren’t. You didn’t care, though. You didn’t care what anyone thought about you. That wasn’t any of your business.

Once Eddie’s order was ready, you grabbed it and headed to his table, setting it down in front of him and didn’t miss how he looked at your cleavage so quickly that you might have not seen it if you hadn’t been looking directly at him. You didn’t mind, though. At least you were getting attention.

“Thanks, doll,” Eddie smiled and you beamed at the nickname. Out of all the ones he had given you, that one was definitely your favorite.

“Anything else?”

“Nope,” he shook his head. “So what’s going on with you and Harrington?”

“Nothing,” you shook your head. “Why, you jealous, Munson?” Eddie scoffed at that. What you two had was strictly casual. He couldn’t have been attracted to you romantically if he tried.

“Not even close. I’m just looking out for you.”

“You don’t need to. I can take care of myself.” Eddie knew that, but he still felt the need to protect you. He wanted to make sure that you were taken care of since you didn’t seem to have anyone looking out for you.

“You should totally go out with him.” You let out a laugh at that. Eddie had been trying to set you up with Steve for months to no avail. You could see right through it and weren’t going to fall for his bullshit.

“I’m not looking for anything, remember?” That was partially true. As much as you didn’t like the idea of being tied down, you had to admit that going to bed to the same person every night sounded really nice.

“But Steve’s cool. Well, sometimes.“

“Why do I need a boyfriend when I have you?”

“Because I can’t be your only friend, l/n. You need friends that you don’t have sex with.” You knew he was right, but you liked the idea of hanging out with just Eddie. He was the only person that truly understood you. And bringing more people into your life just made it easier for them to leave. And you weren’t going to get hurt, not this time.

“Fine, whatever.” You turned on your heel to head for the bathroom, Eddie’s words ringing in the back of your head. Maybe he was right for once. You did need more friends. You always saw Steve and Robin laughing about things together and you wanted to be part of their jokes. You just wanted to be part of something for once. You were tired of being alone.

You exited the stall and washed your hands before heading back to check on your tables. On the way out of the little hallway, you ran into a hard chest. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Steve. You’d recognize that terrible shirt and the ugly color combo of stripes that adorned it anywhere.

You looked up at him and his lips parted like he was going to say something, but he stayed silent. He just closed his mouth, his eyes widening as he did so. You could tell that you made him nervous and that was funny to you. There was nothing for him to be nervous about when it came to you. You had heard all about King Steve and his reputation with women so you were honestly surprised that you had intimidated him. You actually kind of liked it if you were being honest.

“Just couldn’t get enough of me, huh,” you joked.

“No!” His eyes got even wider and you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at how flustered he was. “I was just-“ he pointed to the men’s bathroom door.

“Relax, pretty boy,” you teased with a pat to his cheek. “I’m only joking.” You turned on your heel then headed back to the kitchen, not able to see Steve watching you walk away. After you were out of his sight, he entered the restroom.

You went back to check on your tables and approached Robin, who was finishing up her milkshake. You had thought about what Eddie had said about you needing new friends and decided to do something that was out of character.

“Do you have plans next Saturday?” You felt nervous asking that despite how long you had known Robin, but you had never hung out with her outside of the group, at least not like that. But you liked the idea of having a friend that was girl. You had never had one of those before.

“Except work, no. Why?” You didn’t want to answer her. There was something so vulnerable about asking someone to hang out and you hated being vulnerable. “Do you want to have a sleepover?” Her eyebrows furrowed at your question and you immediately wanted to take it back. It was unlike you to want to hang out with anyone outside of the group.

“A sleepover?” Robin could tell by your tone that it wasn’t going to be that kind of sleepover, so she agreed. She knew that you were bisexual, but you weren’t each other’s type. She liked girls who were more feminine and you were into girls who looked like you.

She also thought it would be a good idea to have a friend that was a girl. She needed more feminine energy in her life.

“Sure,” she nodded. “Sounds like fun.” You pulled your notepad out of your pocket and were actually kind of excited for the whole thing.

“What are we talking about,” Steve asked as he sat back in his side of the booth.

“I’m sleeping over at y/n’s on Saturday,” Robin told him and she could see his face falter.

“I thought we were going to finally watch that new horror movie on Saturday.” Robin had completely forgotten about that and now you felt bad that you were stealing her away from Steve.

“I totally forgot about that.” Steve looked over at you and even though you were trying really hard to hide it, he could see that you were disappointed and he didn’t want to be the reason for it.

“(Y/n), you like horror movies, right,” Robin asked, watching Steve out of the corner of her eye to see what his reaction would be to her next question.

“Love ‘em,” you answered and Steve couldn’t believe what Robin was doing. He thought he at least had some more time to prepare before she started her moves in setting the two of you up. And she wasn’t even being subtle about it. Robin was about as subtle as gun.

“You should watch the movie with us.” The old you would have come up with any excuse to say no, but this was the new you. And the new you made friends. And maybe if it went well, you could make it a regular thing.

“I’d love to.” This was going to be the year you finally did things that scared you. And that included getting close to people who weren’t Eddie.

“We’ll watch it at Steve’s since he’s got that giant TV.” Of course she was suggesting his house. Girls were always amazed about where he lived and Robin knew that. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“Sounds good to me.” Steve couldn’t believe you had actually agreed. You had always denied their invitations to hang out with you and he’d be stupid to ask why you had changed your so suddenly. Whatever the reason, he was going to be grateful.

Eddie had watched the entire interaction play out and couldn’t help but be proud of you. He knew that you had been wanting to get close to Robin and Steve but had been too scared to make a move.

You brought Eddie his check and didn’t miss the smirk he had on his face. And this time he was looking at your face and not your breasts so clearly he had been up to something.

“Ugh,” you groaned. “What?”

“I saw you over there. You did so good, doll. I’m so proud. It’s my baby’s first non-sexual hangout,” he teased, grabbing your face and planting a messy-albeit gentle-kiss to it. You pushed him away in disgust.

“Ew. I hate when you get like this,” you rubbed your cheek with your hand, trying to get rid of the spit. Eddie just grinned at you.

“You didn’t hate it last night.” He winked and you felt yourself blush.

“Because that was in your bed, not in public. And you were more rough with it. You know I hate soft touches.” Eddie knew that fact all too well, all too familiar with hearing the words “harder” and “faster” coming from you in the bedroom.

“Oh, I know, sweetheart.“

“Whats going on? You’re being weird, even for you.” You gave him a glare but that only made him smile wider.

“I’m not weird, I’m just a proud daddy.” Hearing that word outside of dirty talk made your skin crawl.

“Gross,” you grimaced. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” he corrected.

“Sure, whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “Now pay your bill and get out.” Eddie always ended up lingering after he had already paid, wanting to spend more time there. It definitely beat staying in the trailer by himself while Wayne was at work. But you had to kick him out because your manager hated loitering.

“I love it when you’re bossy.” He left some cash on the table, making sure to give you a hefty tip and stood from the table.

Steve watched your interaction with Eddie and wanted to know if you were dating or not, but couldn’t get himself to ask. He didn’t want that information out in the open, unbeknownst to him that everyone was very well aware of his little crush on you. He wasn’t very good at hiding his jealousy and Eddie had even kicked his touches up a notch to get Steve to say something about how he felt about you, but he never did.

Robin and Steve finished their meals and you dropped off their check. You watched them walk out the door and turned to the table to some cash sitting under Robin’s empty cup so it wouldn’t blow away under the fans that had been running because of how hot it had been outside.

You headed over to their table and noticed that Steve had left a twenty dollar bill which meant that more than half had been for you. You wondered what it was like to be able to tip more than your meal had cost and not be struggling financially. You didn’t know what that was like because your family didn’t have the kind of money to even eat where you worked.

You headed outside for your smoke break as Steve’s red BMW pulled out of his parking space. You watched him pass by as you pulled your carton of cigarettes out of your apron pocket. The taste of the tobacco sounded so inviting and you just needed it to help with the chronic stress that sat on your shoulders every single day.

You went through your cluttered apron pockets to find your lighter only to grasp at crumpled receipts and empty straw wrappers. You had always put it in your apron before your shifts for that exact situation so you had wondered where it went. You tried to picture the last place you had it and suddenly remembered that you had left it at Eddie’s when you had smoked a joint together the night before.

As if he knew you were thinking about him, Eddie exited the diner, holding out a lighter to you. You took it from him and lit up, taking a long drag before blowing the smoke away from him so it wouldn’t get all in his face. You looked down the lighter and noticed your initials that you had engraved into the intricate design to signify it was yours.

“Thanks.” You fiddled with the thing in your hands, never able to stand still for so long. Whether it was the anxiety or the stress, you didn’t know.

“Sure,” he nodded. “That one’s yours anyway. You left it at my place last night and I figured I should give it back.” Eddie grabbed the cigarette from you, putting it between his own lips before taking a drag and handing it back to you.

“Well, thanks.” You wondered just how many lighters you had lost over the last few years after sleeping with someone only to never return to their place ever again. The only thing you had missed was your leather jacket that you had left at Billy Hargrove’s. You had politely asked for it back, but he only agreed to return it if you slept with him again and there was no way in hell that was going to happen. After he had made fun of Eddie? Fat chance. He could have the jacket for all you cared.

“Sure. I’ll see you tonight?” You didn’t know why he was asking. Of course you were going to see him. You were in his bedroom practically every night.

“Yeah,” you nodded, taking another drag before holding out the cigarette to him. He took it from you, his fingers brushing yours as he did so. This was so familiar to you, standing outside your place of work sharing a cigarette with your best friend. It seemed like it happened at least once every single one of your shifts. Most of the time neither of you uttered a single word, the only thing that could be heard was birds chirping or the sound of car doors slamming as people headed towards the restaurant. It was nice, one of your favorite things about working.

Eddie handed your cigarette back and fished around in his pocket for his keys. He pulled out his own cigarette carton, a couple guitar picks, and a few wadded up gum wrappers before finding what he was looking for. You wondered when he last washed his jeans, then remembered that you were the last one to do so when you took your stuff to the laundromat which had been a couple of weeks ago. You made a mental note to go back sometime in the week and take Eddie’s gross pants with you.

“See you tonight. Four, right?” That was always your plan when you were picking up extra shifts. Eddie would watch Callie while you were gone and then you’d go over to his after your shift while Wayne was still at work and you’d spend the night together, getting tangled up in Eddie’s sheets with a few smoke breaks in between. It was a perfect night in your opinion. You were able to get away from home for the night and you could forget about your shitty living situation at least for a little while. Until you began to worry about leaving your little sister alone with your parents.

Eddie was always able to help you when you started to panic. He’d take your hands in his and make you take some deep breaths to help you calm down. He’d then take you over to your own trailer to see Callie to make sure she was okay. She was always in your shared room, fast asleep in the bed that you were forced to share because your parents couldn’t afford another one.

Your parents were always fighting and it made Callie cry hearing them, so you’d do whatever what you could to distract her. Whether it was letting her listen to your walkman to block out the screams or just straight up taking her to Eddie’s, you’d find a way to shield her. No kid should have to be subjected to that or be on the receiving end of it like you had been a few times. That was why you always deemed any room that wasn’t yours off limits during those moments.

You wanted better for Callie. She was just a kid and didn’t deserve to live like that. You hated that she was growing up with the very same childhood you had experienced. You had hoped that your parents would have gotten their shit together before having another kid, but Callie had just been a product of them having makeup sex in the back of their shared beat up car.

Callie was way too young to be subjected to your parents’ toxic behavior. You, however had been used to it. Them hitting or yelling at you was something you just expected whenever you were home at the same time as them. They still hadn’t laid a finger on Callie out of anger and you vowed that if they ever had, you’d pack up all your stuff and go live with Eddie and Wayne. Wayne knew all about your living situation and had suggested you come live with him as soon as he found out about how your parents had been treating you and your sister, but you were just trying to hold out until you could get enough money to get the two of you the hell out of there.

———

You and Callie entered the trailer after you had picked her up from school and you let out a sigh of relief when you saw that your parents’ car wasn’t in its usual spot. You didn’t have it in you to deal with them. You were just so tired. You were scheduled for a shift at Family Video in an hour which only gave you enough time to make sure that Callie did her homework. Eddie would take care of the rest.

You showered and got dressed while Callie did her homework. That was the only way you were able to do anything for yourself. You had to do it while she was occupied, never truly getting an actual moment to yourself. She’d come into the bathroom while you were in the shower and ask you where you had put her favorite pencil. You hated that you got annoyed with her every now and then, but sometimes you wished you could have just five minutes of uninterrupted silence.

You came out of your room to find Callie eating the TV dinner you had fixed for her and Eddie was sitting next to her. They were both talking about the cartoon she had put on. It was one of the things they bonded over. Eddie really was just a kid at heart so it made sense why they got along so well. He didn’t have any siblings so Callie was the closest he was going to get. She had him wrapped around her little finger and she quickly found that he’d do anything she asked. Whether it was letting her braid his hair or have a tea party with him, it didn’t matter.

You loved watching their interactions. The way Eddie was so sweet to her, but talking to her in the tone that he used with everyone else. You wished that the people in town could see the way Eddie treated her so they’d stop insisting that he was an evil cult leader.

He had insisted on watching your sister even though you had assured him that you didn’t need his help. He noticed that you were always doing that; insisting that you didn’t need assistance when you were actually desperate for it. To you, asking for help meant that you were weak. You had gotten through your hardest times by yourself, so why would you admit that you needed help with the little things like finding a sitter for your sister?

“Alright,” you spoke up, standing at the back of the couch. “I’m leaving for work, so Eddie’s in charge.” Callie turned to face you, a pout on her face. As much as she loved spending time with Eddie, she always missed you when you were gone. You were her best friend. The one person who she was convinced could protect her from everything. Your parents screaming at each other, a bad dream, and the monsters that very much not under your bed. You both knew that they didn’t exist. She was just always looking for an excuse to cuddle closer to you, feeling the safest being wrapped in your arms.

Callie didn’t care if you didn’t give birth to her. In her eyes, you were her mother. You had gotten up in the night to feed her or change her diaper and you rocked her back to sleep when she stopped crying. You were there when she took her first steps, holding onto fingers until she was able to move by herself. You held her while she cried when kids were mean to her at school, telling her that they were losers and were just bored with their lives. You helped her ride your old bike without training wheels, cheering her on as she circled the little spot in front of your trailer. You had been there for every important moment in her life while she had just been an afterthought to your parents. Just another reason why they didn’t have any money and were stuck in that stupid trailer.

She gave you a long hug and you pressed a kiss to her forehead and told her to behave before you went out the front door to your car. You took a deep breath and turned on the ignition before heading out of the trailer park.

Working at Family Video was definitely your favorite out of your three jobs. The diner involved a lot of running around and working at the car repair shop was just answering phones and scheduling appointments since you didn’t have any actual experience fixing up cars. That one was very monotonous and boring doing the exact same thing every time. You liked Family Video because it was the perfect amount of work and you got along with the people you worked with. In your eyes, it was a win-win.

You put in the cassette tape that was a mix of your favorite metal songs you had made and turned the volume dial all the way up, singing along to the song. In your mind, if you had the music on really loud, it could drown out all of your thoughts so you had no choice but to get out of your head. Your brain was always working overtime with all of things you had to do. There was always another thing to add to your to do list or something else to worry about, so you tried your best to turn it off when you could.

You pulled into the parking lot and parked a little bit away from the building since Keith had gotten onto you multiple times for parking right up front. Despite not wanting to walk the few extra steps, you were too tired to argue with him. You grabbed your vest and headed into the building, finding Steve already at the counter, typing something into the computer. He turned to you when he heard the bell chime and gave you a small smile before turning back to his task.

You headed to the back room and clocked in before putting on the dreaded green vest. You wished Keith could have at least gotten vests that were a neutral color so it’d be easier to match to your outfits. Nothing went with green. You threw your purse into your locker and let out a sigh before going out onto the floor. The place was empty which was arguably worse than it being packed. If it was crowded, at least you would have something to do other than put videos away.

Steve was no longer at the counter, now putting returns back on the shelves. You rounded the counter and noticed his cart right by the romcom section. You pulled some tapes from the cart and began putting them away in their designated aisle, deciding that you were going to help him even though he always insisted that he didn’t need it. He knew of your other jobs and wanted this one to be a breeze for you. He thought you worked too hard.

Steve could hear shuffling and turned to his cart to see that some of the tapes were missing. He then looked over the aisles and saw you in the sci-fi section. You were reorganizing the tapes in alphabetical order. He noticed you doing that every time you had a shift together and wondered why it mattered to you so much when people were just going to mess it up again.

He watched you for a few more seconds then turned back to his own task. He spent too much time looking at you and really needed to cut it out. But you were just so pretty. He wanted to look at you any chance he got. He wanted to hold you from behind and rest his chin on your shoulder as he pressed kisses your cheek just to hear your pretty laugh. He wanted to hold your hand whenever he could, feeling your soft skin against his. He wanted to kiss you. Goddamn did he want to kiss you. He wanted to know what your pretty lips tasted like. They were like two little pillows and he needed to know if they were as soft as they looked. He knew he was pathetic pining for you like that, but he didn’t care.

You were so mysterious and he wanted to know more about you. What you liked and what you didn’t. He wanted to know every single thing about you, hearing you go on and on for hours. He knew he wouldn’t get bored because everything about you was fascinating in his eyes. You could read out the diner menu to him and he would listen, hanging onto every word. He was in deep and he didn’t even care. He didn’t care if you didn’t if you didn’t feel the same way, he’d still eat up every interaction, every flirty word that would fall from your pretty lips.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you spoke up as you approached his cart once again. It was the only thing separating you two and he thought you were too far away. You grabbed onto the top of the cart and leaned forward, getting a little too close to him for his liking. He tried to keep his cool, but you smelled so good. If he had it his way, he’d have pulled you to him and buried his face into his neck to get a better whiff.

“Not much to say,” he shrugged and turned back to the shelf to hide the blush that was creeping up on his cheeks.

“You never shut up when you’re with Robin, but you’re quiet as a mouse when you’re around me.” He wanted to tell you that it was because you intimidated him and that he was afraid that he was going to say something stupid. He wanted to, but he didn’t. He just kept quiet and tried to not think about how beautiful you were.

“Just don’t have a lot to say,” he shrugged, putting some more tapes on the shelf in front of him. That was a lie. Steve had so much to say to you, but he didn’t think that any of it was appropriate.

He wanted to tell you just how pretty he thought you were while he thrusted into you. He wanted to feel your soft body against his. He wanted to hear you moan his name over and over again while he made sweet love to you.

He was always going on dates and sleeping with women, but it never really progressed after that. He’d promise to call them then throw their numbers away only to feel guilty in the end. He hated the cycle, but he was only doing what he thought he had to.

He was only trying to get over you and he thought the only way to do that was to get under someone else. But that never worked. You were the only girl he wanted and he couldn’t have you because you were taken. It was torture watching you with Eddie. The way you touched each other in such a flirty manner, whispering things into the other’s ear.

Steve wanted to be that with you. He wanted you two to have your own inside jokes. He wanted to have his arm around your waist and press tender kisses to your temple whenever he wanted. But he couldn’t. And it was killing him. He didn’t want to ruin your friendship, if you could’ve even called it that.

“Oh,” you nodded in understanding, even though he couldn’t see you. “I get it.” You pulled away from the cart, crossing your arms over your chest. “You don’t like me.”

You loved to mess with Steve more than you liked flirting with him. He fell for it every time, completely believing your words. You thought it was hilarious considering the fact that you hadn’t even been trying.

“No!” He turned around in panic, needing to assure you that it wasn’t true. He liked you, probably loved you even. “I like you.”

“You do?” You bat your eyelashes innocently and Steve stepped closer, trying not to fall for your tricks.

“Yeah. I mean, we’re friends, right?” The word was hard to get out. He hated using it when it came to you. It burned his throat the way bile did when it climbed its way up into his mouth. It tasted horrible and bitter like burnt toast.

The word caught you off guard. Eddie was the only one you had given that title to. And here Steve was using the word so casually, like it was part of his everyday vocabulary.

“Of course we’re friends, Steve.” Technically speaking, you were friends, but the two of you didn’t really hangout outside of the group like you did with Eddie.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to hang out with Steve, it was that you couldn’t. You were unsure of where things would go with the two of you. Anytime you were alone, you felt the tension and you were afraid of the things the two of you would get up to. Hanging out always led to sex and sex always led to the “what are we?” talk and you couldn’t do that again. It was always so awkward letting people down.

“Good,” he nodded. “Good.” He rolled the cart to another aisle and you followed him. You watched him put more tapes away, admiring the way his jeans hugged his hips and the way his shirt was tight against his biceps. You could see why women liked him even if you weren’t interested. He was pretty and got along with everyone. What was there to not like?

“Yeah,” you nodded. “So what did you get up to last night?” You leaned onto the cart as Steve crouched to put some videos away on the lowest shelf.

“Oh, you know. The usual,” he shrugged, trying to move quickly because being in that position was painful.

“Which is?” You leaned closer, trying to read the look on his face. He stood up quickly, his legs not being able to take the pain anymore.

“Had a girl over.” He didn’t want to say more than that. He figured that you knew what had happened without him having to spell it out for you.

“Oh?” He didn’t have to say anything else, but you wondered how much he would tell you.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

“How was it?” Bad. It was bad. So much so that he couldn’t even think about it without feeling embarrassed.

“Fine.” He was lying. He couldn’t tell you the truth. The truth being that he had tried to make out with the girl only to see your face and your pretty eyes boring into his. It happened every time and it was infuriating.

“Fine?” That was never the word you wanted to hear about a date. That was always meant that it went wrong but the person didn’t want to come out and say it.

“We just didn’t have that spark, you know?” You didn’t know what he meant by that so you wanted him to explain.

“Spark?” Your eyebrows furrowed and Steve liked that he was going to be able to explain something to you and not the other way around for once.

“You know, the spark.” You had no idea what he was talking about, but knew that it was some sort of thing that was only exclusive to Steve. He was too much of a romantic sometimes.

“No.” You didn’t seem to care but Steve was still going to tell you anyway.

“It’s when you get that feeling. You just know they’re the one.” His brown eyes softened as he looked at you and all you could do was let out a laugh. It all just seemed so silly.

“How do you know?” This was the real question. How did you know when you were in love with someone?

“It’s in your gut. It’s something that you just know.” Steve had never gotten that feeling, but knew it existed and he was just waiting for it to come around.

“Huh,” you pondered. “Sounds fake.” Love was just a bunch of bullshit to you. At least romantically. You loved Callie and you loved Eddie, but that was about it.

“You’re just too cynical to ever love anyone but yourself.” Both of you knew he wasn’t trying to offend you. He was just telling the truth.

“I love Callie,” you countered and Steve only shook his head. That didn’t count in his opinion.

“You’re supposed to love your sister.” You supposed that was true, but still felt like you were right.

“I also love Eddie.” He didn’t like hearing that, but he knew what you meant.

“It’s the same thing. He’s your best friend. You’re supposed to love him. I’m talking about romance.” You hated talking about that, even with Steve. Especially with Steve. Out of the four of you, Steve definitely seemed to be the one who always wanted to talk about love and it made you uncomfortable.

“Gross,” you grimace and Steve thought it was cute seeing your features scrunched up like that.

“It’s not gross, it’s beautiful,” he corrected, giving your shoulder a nudge. You just stepped away to keep space between your bodies.

“How can you think that when you’ve never been in love?” Steve had been in love. Only once and not for very long, but it still counted.

“I was in love with Nancy.” Right, Nancy. You don’t know her as well as you knew Robin, but just from the few interactions you had with her, she seemed nice enough.

“I mean besides Nancy. That was years ago and I haven’t heard you utter another girl’s name since I’ve known you.” He could think of multiple girls off of the top of his head that he had talked about. Well, with Robin. He felt weird talking about his dates with you.

“You’ve only known me for like six months.” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the shelf behind him. Steve didn’t think you had known him long enough to critique him.

“Yeah, and that’s been six months of jack shit, Harrington. If you want love so badly then you have to go on more than one date with a girl.” He never thought that you of all people would have given him actually good relationship advice. For someone who had never been in one, you really seemed to know what you were talking about.

“Maybe I will,” he shrugged. You both knew that he wouldn’t. He was just going to continue the cycle until he found someone.

“The girl for you is out there, Steve. You just have to look hard enough.” He was looking and the only woman that he wanted was right in front of him. He felt pathetic. He would never get you so he didn’t know why he even bothered.

“Like where? Because she’s definitely not in Hawkins. I think I’ve been out with every woman who’s interested in men in our age group.” He hadn’t been out with you, though. And he never would because you definitely weren’t interested. He thought it was better if you were just friends anyway. He liked what you two had and didn’t want to ruin it.

“Well,” you let out a sigh. “I guess you’re just destined to be alone.”

Steve wondered what made you so against love at such a young age. Usually the people who were that cynical were at least fifty years older than you. He figured it had something to do with your home life that you only mentioned a few times. You were very secretive.

Steve wasn’t going to listen to you. Love was out there and he was going to find it even if it wasn’t with you. Just because he hadn’t found someone yet didn’t mean that he was going to throw in the towel. He was going to at least give it another try before he fully gave up.

“No,” he pointed at you. “I am not stooping to your sad, cynical level.” He moved from the shelf and rounded the corner with a stack of videos and you followed him, the cart completely abandoned.

“Oh, c’mon, Steve.”

“I think maybe if you put yourself out there, you’d actually find that dating is fun,” he smiled and you gagged at his words. Pretty much anything sounded more appealing to you than that.

“You know what’s even more fun than dating,” you asked, your face lighting up and Steve was interested in what you had to say.

“What?”

“Hearing my parents yelling at each other while I hold my sister who’s sobbing. That’s more fun than dating.” He supposed he walked right into that one. He had never seen you talk nicely about anything except your sister and Eddie, but he was determined to find out what else you liked. He knew there had to be some sort of happiness deep down inside you.

“C’mon, y/n, you’re a pretty girl. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” That was a nice compliment, but it sounded generic, like it was something he’d say to just anyone. There was nothing that made it personal.

“Right, and I would be lucky just to get through this shift without you trying to convince me to put myself out there.” You took some of Steve’s tapes and put them away, wanting the conversation to be over. He only followed you, leaning against the shelf you were working on. He stared down at you, his eyebrows pinched together.

“Can you be serious for one second?”

“I am being serious, Steve,” you turned to face him. “You’re the one who’s being ridiculous.”

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“You call that help?” You let out a laugh. You didn’t think him pointing out your flaws was considered helpful. “If you really want to help me, then why don’t you actually help me?” You leaned onto the shelf as well, setting your arm onto the top of it to hold yourself up.

“How?” His eyebrows furrowed and you thought for a moment. The first thing that came to mind was actually ridiculous.

“I don’t know, go on a date with me or something.” Steve’s eyes widened at that, his mouth falling open slightly. He never thought he’d see the day. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe Hell had frozen over.

“What,” he scoffed. He didn’t believe you in the slightest. You had to be joking because there was no way you’d ever want to go on a date, especially not with him.

“It’ll be like practice.” Steve was quick to step forward and press his hand to your forehead. Your eyebrows furrowed at his actions, trying to figure out what he was up to.

“What are you doing,” you let out a laugh, pushing his hand away, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were sick,” he let out a sigh of relief as he pulled his hand away. “Because that would be the only reason why you’d ever go out with me.”

“Oh stop. You’re the only one who would actually be helpful.” He hated that you were right. He was the only one who’d be up for the task and do it right. “You’re King Steve, aren’t you? You clearly know what you’re doing since you always have a date.”

“Why not Eddie or Robin?” It wasn’t that Steve didn’t want to help you, but he didn’t think he could because then he’d want more and he knew that wasn’t going to happen.

“Eddie would just laugh the whole time and Robin would overthink everything.” Steve knew both of them well enough to know that what you had said was accurate. Eddie was too close to you to take going on a date with you seriously and Robin would take everything too seriously to the point that it would drive you crazy. Steve was your only option.

Steve supposed it wouldn’t be so bad. He’d get to go on a date with you and hadn’t that been what he had wanted all along? Who cared if it wasn’t real? At that point, Steve was just going to take what he could get.

It didn’t have to mean anything. It was just to help you out so you knew what a date was like without the nerves of being around a stranger. He’d just give you pointers. Tell you how to win people over enough to get their number and how to get to a second date after the first.

“Okay,” he nodded. “Let’s go out.” Your eyes widened at his agreement. You figured that he would have said no because it was weird or because he had better things to do.

“Oh-I was joking.” He thought it was odd to hear you stutter. You had always said things so matter-of-factly with your head held high. He could tell how nervous you were then.

“I wasn’t. So let’s go out.”

“Steve.”

“Yes?” A smirk played on his pink lips and now you could see why he always got whatever he wanted. Just one flash of that damn smile and women would give him whatever he asked. Well, it wasn’t going to work on you. You were better than them.

“Why are you agreeing?” He was doing a favor, getting absolutely nothing out of it, so what was his deal?

“Why are you asking?” He wanted to know why you were grilling him when the whole thing was your idea. Joke or not, Steve didn’t think that it was half bad. Maybe it could actually work.

“Because it’s a weird request.” Steve had done weirder things like fighting with multiple monsters from alternate dimensions, so going on a fake date with you would have been one of the less weird things he had done.

“It’s not the weirdest thing I’ve done. And I want to help you, y/n.” He would do anything for you, but he wasn’t going to tell you that. You weren’t quite at that point in your friendship.

“Well, great,” you smiled. “When did you want to start?”

Steve thought for a second even though he knew for a fact that his schedule was wide open. It always was. If he wasn’t at work or on a date or with Robin, he was at home by himself watching movies he’d seen a thousand times or laying in his bed staring at the ceiling, feeling sorry for himself even though he knew there were people out there with worse problems.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re the one with the busy schedule so you tell me when you’re free.” It was nice that he was being so accommodating.

“Literally never. See, this is why I don’t date.” He could see you panicking and wanted to do whatever he could to help you calm you down.

“How about this weekend,” he suggested and realized that it was already Thursday.

“Isn’t that a bit early?” Maybe it was but he didn’t care.

“Not necessarily,” he shrugged again. He didn’t think it was. He was just eager to get started. He was really looking forward to going out with you.

“What are we going to do?” That was a good question and he figured he’d let you decide.

“What do you want to do?” He saw that nervous look and he was concerned that you were going to panic again.

“I don’t know.” Your life was full of making choices. Deciding what to buy at the grocery store. What to make for dinner. What you were going to wear every day. For once you didn’t want the decision to be up to you.

“Well, what do you like to do in your free time?” Steve just wanted to make the decision easier for you. In his head, it didn’t seem like a big deal, but he didn’t know what your life was like besides that you had a sister and that your parents fought.

“I don’t know. I don’t really have free time.” Of course you didn’t. He had heard you talk about your two other jobs and practically raising your littler sister. That was a lot for anyone to have on their plates, especially for someone as young as you.

“Right,” he nodded. He hated that you didn’t even have enough free time to even figure out what you enjoyed. It broke his heart.

“You pick. I promise I’ll like whatever you choose.” That seemed like a huge promise to Steve. He didn’t think you liked anything.

“Are you sure?” He titled his head to the side and you almost thought it was cute. Almost.

“Yes, please. Just pick.” Steve actually liked the idea of choosing for once. It seemed like he was told what to do all the time so having his own decision to make made him feel good.

“We can just hang at my house then. It’s private and it’s somewhere you can leave if you feel uncomfortable.” That sounded like a good idea to you. You didn’t like the idea of having Steve pay for your dinner. You could pay for yourself just fine.

“That works for me,” you nodded.

“I can make you dinner and we can just talk. It’ll be low stakes.” Oh god, now he really was going to spend money on you. Maybe you could let it slide just this once.

“You don’t have to do this,” you handed Steve another video to put on the shelf.

Of course Steve didn’t have to, but he wanted to. He just wanted to help you out. He didn’t care if he got anything in return. He would just be content spending time with you.

“I know I don’t,” he nodded, taking the tape from you. “But I want to.”

“What should I wear?” He didn’t like where his mind went with that question. He could imagine you in a pretty dress that would be thrown onto the floor of his bedroom while you placed yourself on top of him.

“Whatever you want. You could wear sweats for all I care.”

That made you feel better since you didn’t really have any nice clothes. The only “nice” outfits you owned were the two dresses that your mother had bought you. One was for funerals and the other for weddings and you didn’t think that either of those were appropriate. Maybe you’d ask Robin if you could borrow something.

“So I could wear my pajamas,” you joked and clearly Steve didn’t get it.

“Sure,” he nodded “Whatever you want. I could wear mine too if that would make you feel better.”

“We’re not wearing pajamas, Stevie,” you shook your head with a laugh.

“I know,” he laughed as well. “You’re overthinking it.” That much was true. You were overthinking everything these days and Steve could tell. “Seriously, wear whatever you want.”

“Okay.”

The topic was dropped and the two of you made awkward small talk the rest of the night in between customers. Despite not having not talked about your “date” for hours, it was the only thing on your mind. It had made you nervous and you wanted to just tell Steve to forget it, but you couldn’t. He just seemed so insistent on helping you and you weren’t going to take that opportunity away from him.

You had never thought of Steve as intimidating, but now you couldn’t help but feel nervous around him. You were going to see a side to him that you had never seen before and that scared you. What if it had made your friendship weird? What if the date sucked and he never wanted to speak to you again?

You went to Eddie’s after work and told him everything. Of course, he thought it was the funniest thing and couldn’t stop laughing. The idea of you and Steve going out tickled him. You didn’t even have anything in common. You liked all things scary while Steve jumped when a customer came into Family Video unannounced.

However, opposites did attract and Eddie knew just how much Steve liked you even though you couldn’t see it because you had been too focused on your own life. He thought Steve would be good for you. That he would balance you out.

“You gonna wear something hot?” Eddie asked, leaning back on his bed, putting his arms behind his head.

“I don’t have anything hot, Eddie,” you laid down next to him. “And this is just a practice date. It doesn’t mean anything.” Maybe it didn’t mean anything to you, but Eddie knew it meant the world to Steve even if the boy wouldn’t admit it.

“Right. You know, I’m kinda offended you didn’t ask me.” He turned over to face you, propping his head up with one of his hands.

“We both know why I didn’t ask you,” you raised an eyebrow. “We’re too close and you’d just laugh the whole time.” Eddie let out a laugh at that. You were absolutely right.

“Cmon, let me wine and dine you, baby,” he reached for your hand and you pulled it away.

“Fat chance, Munson,” you cackled. “We’re just not compatible.” Eddie knew that much, but when you were fucking, it was as if your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces.

“Maybe not romantically. But physically, we’re so made for each other.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“Honey, I’m always right.” He grabbed your hands and pulled you on top of him. He flipped the two of you over, pressing his body to yours, sliding his legs between yours.

“Now give me some sugar.”

“Oh, you actually want to kiss me first? Is it a special occasion?” You teased.

“No, just need to taste your lips.” You pressed your lips to his roughly, tangling your hands into his hair. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, letting it swirl around yours before pulling away.

“No,” you whined. “I need you. Need your cock.”

“Sweetheart, you worked twelve hours today. I know you don’t have it in you.” Eddie was more than eager to fuck you, but he could see how tired you were and wasn’t going to through with it if you weren’t conscious enough to be enthusiastic about it.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “But you owe me.”

“I’ll give you two rounds tomorrow with no smoke breaks,” he pressed another kiss to your lips then pulled you into his arms.

“Deal,” you smiled, closing your eyes, feeling yourself drift off to sleep. Eddie pressed a kiss to your forehead, letting out a chuckle.

“What?” You pulled back to glare at him only making him laugh more.

“Still can’t believe you’re going out with Harrington,” he shook his head.

“Eddie, please just shut the fuck up and go to sleep,” you demanded and he was quick to close his eyes.

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded, resting his chin on top of your head. “Goodnight, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Eds.” You snuggled into his chest and the two of you drifted off to sleep.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut

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munsonluhvr · 5 hours

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blurb idea! friends to lovers!steve harrington finding out you make flower crowns when you babysit the kids, and him wanting one but also being macho still

FLOWER PRINCE

a/n: daww, this is such a cute idea. hope u enjoy <3

The warm breeze tickles your skin, the sun shining brightly down on the park that you sit at with Mike, Will, and Eleven. Off in the distance, Dustin and Lucas hang off the monkey-bars, screaming every so often. Beside you, your boyfriend Steve Harrington watches from the bench of the picnic table as you sit on the grass weaving the stems of flowers and strands of grass together intricately.

"What are you doing, y/n?" Steve asks, bending forward to look at your project in your hands. He glances over at Mike, Will, and Eleven who are scattered around the grass, plucking their own flowers.

"Making a flower crown," you say simply, glancing up at Steve. You hold your craft up to his eye sight. "I taught the kids how to make them and it's kind of our thing that we do every time we come to the park."

Eleven, who finishes her flower crown quickly, places hers on head, smiling with satisfaction. Will continues to work on his but Mike shakes his head as he weaves the stem of a flower together with grass strands. "This is such a girly thing to do."

Will shrugs. "I don't know, it's kind of fun."

You hum, smiling at Eleven and her crown. "You can go play with Dustin and Lucas, Mike. We won't be offended."

Mike looks from you to Eleven, his eyes lingering on her for a second, then looks back to his flower crown. "No, I'm good."

You turn your attention back to Steve. "Why don't you make one?" You lean against his legs, gesturing towards the ground. "Plenty of flowers for you to make one."

Steve shakes his head. "I don't know, what if someone from school comes by and sees. Mike is right, it's kind of... girly."

You roll your eyes; boys and their dedication to their masculinity. You decide then that the crown you're making is for Steve. Your nearly done, adding one last flower. You stand up from your seat on the grass, standing in front of him. Reaching out towards Steve, you place your little creation on the top of his head. "There," you say, pleased with your handy work. "Now you have your King Steve title back."

Steve smiles, realizing that you're giving him your crown to him. "I never lost it."

You laugh, moving to sit on his lap. His arms wrap around you, cradling you against him. You place a soft kiss on his cheek, then moving to lean against his upper body. "I don't know, Steve. You're baby sitting the kids with me while wearing a flower crown. I'd say you're a softie now."

#stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine

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sleepyangelkami · 9 hours

Text

BLOODY NOSE (S.H)

a/n: i promise perverted (c.g) iii is in the making guys! i'm just really not in the mood to finish it just yet. you guys will have it as soon as it's done!

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: your clumsy self was used to running into things and hurting yourself, so much so that you practically couldn't even feel the pain anymore. however, a little blood was enough to scare you. thankfully, steve is there to clean your bloody mess up.

warnings: blood, kinda gorey, clumsy!reader, ditzy!reader, crybaby!reader (the reader's a lot of things, okay??), worrying, anxiety, mention of knife?, attentive!steve, pre-established relationship, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 💙

words: 1,648

clumsy was your middle name, at least it should be.

you can't recall the last time you'd gone a full week without falling over and skidding your knee or banging your head into the pole you were walking towards. something about hurting yourself came so easy to you. perhaps it was because you were a buzzing ball of energy and no cones would stand in your way.

and steve harrington couldn't have you any other way.

allthough, he'd love if you'd actually look where you were going, he didn't really mind shutting the cupboards after you to make sure you didn't hit your head or switch off the gas when you were finished baking so you didn't light the house on fire, or even snatching your arm and forcing you to one side of the street so you didn't walk straight into the pole right in front of you.

however, sometimes he truly did wish you wouldn't be so clumsy.

as cute as it was, he couldn't deny that he was a worrier. a worrier until his last breath. your every move had him on his tip toes, making him turn grey in his prime and forcing the wrinkled lines on his forehead.

there was no denying that steve was sort of alike a mother to everyone he let into his life. a father? no, no. a mother. which was sort of odd, seeing as he was also your boyfriend.

often times you were strolling into family video with another bruise or scratch. you didn't mind though, because there was no blood. truthfully, steve was always much more worried than you were, trying to hold your leg still as he patched a plaster on it.

you were always swinging your dangling legs across those tables.

as time progressed, so did your relationship.

steve supposed that he never stopped being worried, he just began being prepared. plasters in his pockets, always watching you with a close eye.

until he wasn't.

it was late in the afternoon, a chopping knife in your hand. you were cutting up some fruits, wooden chopping board soaked in many different colours due to the juices that fell from them. steve knew how you loved your snacks in the evening, especially fruit, you had this awful craving for them. perhaps it was due to the dehydration you had when you constantly forgot to drink water. usually, steve had to follow you around with a water bottle.

usually, this was steve's task.

he didn't often leave you alone with a knife. actually, come to think about it he never left you alone with a knife. he knew that the outcome would not be as blissful as one would imagine.

even now, after you'd begged to cut up your own fruit. you'd told him that you were a lady, not a toddler. he had to agree. and as nervous as he was, he sat by the counter. his eyes were strained on your hands, chopping up the fruit.

the knife slid from each piece of fruit, you grasping the little chunks and tossing them in a bowl. "you want any?" you questioned, back sort of turned to him as you sliced the pear.

"no, honey, i'm okay―" smiling at you before realising he was smiling at you meaning your face was turned away from the fruit. "eyes on the fruit, sweetheart." though there was obvious worry laced in his tone, his own throat clenching at the mere thought of you practically slicing your hand off.

honestly? it wasn't too far fetched with what you'd done in the past.

steve watched as you dropped the knife a little too carelessly onto the chopping board before sweeping the bowl into your hands. he'd breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful the worrying and bubbling anxiety of you slicing a limb off was over.

unfortunately, that feeling of relief? yeah, it didn't last too long.

"See that wasn't so hard―" before he could so much as utter out a word of caution, much too wrapped up in the whole knife business, the open cabinet drawer was hitting you right in the face, a loud "ow!" falling from your lips.

"shit." instantly standing from his seat, making his way over towards you.

holding your hand up to your face, you uttered the muffled words. "'m okay, i jus―" turning to place the bowl of fruit onto the counter before "ow!" slapping your face against the same cabinet drawer.

"jesus christ." panic evident in his voice. "just―just don't move, okay?" perhaps that was the best idea, seeing as you moving would possibly result in loosing some form of a limb.

truthfully, it didn't hurt that much.

there was a stinging pain in your nose but you'd felt that familliar feeling many times before. it was almost as if your body had grown numb to the pain. perhaps that was why it was so easy to keep repeating the same mistakes, your body simply didn't care enough to stop.

you said ow due to the pressure though also because you deemed it was sort of necessary. you hit something, you shout "ow" right?

you felt him before you could hear him. "you okay? c'mere, baby, show me a look." the bowl of fruit was discarded on the counter top while one of hands moved to shove the cupboard press closed so you were in a safe proximity, tossing the end of the knife over and tipping it into the sink, out of reach.

finally, his hands came down to your own wrists, gently maneuvering them away from your face so he could take a look at your nose. "'m okay." you quickly quipped, knowing you'd endured much worse than a little bang against some wood. "really, it doesn't hurt that bad." did it even hurt at all? perhaps the feeling of hurt hadn't truly settled in.

steve didn't listen, tipping your head back by his finger against your chin. "doesn't hurt that bad?" you nodded though your head stung a little just by doing so. "yeah, well you're bleeding."

he should have known not to utter those words.

almost instantly, he turned to grab some of the kitchen paper that had been placed on the table, using the roll to grab a couple sheets, knowing you were too far from the bathroom.

bleeding?

the word kept repeating in your head and suddenly you felt dizzy. perhaps it was the hit of the cabinet drawer against your head or maybe it was the way you pushed your hand up to your nose, gazing down at the red crimson that painted your delicate skin.

why did your nose suddenly hurt so bad?

perhaps it was the anxiety building up in your cluttered chest. whatever it was, you could feel stinging in your eyes now, not from any physical pain but instead the pretty silhouette of tears that danced in your waterline, all glossy.

steve took notice of your glassy eyes before you could utter a word. "hey, hey, wh's wrong? does it hurt?" you nodded your head in agreement, despite the dizziness, despite the fact that you didn't know if it was all that entirely true.

he placed the kitchen paper against your nose ever so gently, featherlight. "i didn't... i didn't mean to." your voice came out breathless, sort of wobbly as if you really were going to cry.

steve felt his heart ache a little at that. "no, no, i know you didn't, hey." his large hand moved it's way towards your waist, soothing the skin gently. however, he was suddenly aware of your glance cast down on your hand, covered in a little of the blood from your nose. "hey, c'mon, pretty girl, 's just a little blood, no biggie, okay?"

once again, you nodded as a response, sniffing slightly.

"stupid." you mumbled through the tissue held against your nose, stumping the bleeding. it caused the word to come out muffled, practically unheard.

"you're not stupid." he gushed. "it was an accident, it happens."

however this time, you shook your head. "no, not me." his brows pinched together a little, taking the napkin from your nose, dried blood at the base of your nose. "the stupid cabinet door." grouching like a child.

he couldn't help but grin at you, wiping the dried blood from the bottom of your nose. "yeah, stupid cabinet door." he agreed, thankful your fear of blood didn't last too long.

you see, if it was any other situation, you probably would have cried.

but when steve stood so close to you, the scent of him enveloping you, arms practically encaging you. there was something about it that made the world stop, that made you realise a little blood wasn't all that bad. hey, you got attention from the world's best boyfriend, right?

surely, that had to count for something.

half an hour passed, you laid on the couch with a pack of frozen peas against your already bruising nose while leaning against steve's arm. he used his other one to hold a fork, feeding you the chopped up fruit. "better?" he mumbled, unable to catch your eye when you were so engrossed in the tv in front of you.

practically dazed by the animation, you managed to nod your head. "better." mumbling back, barely uttering the whole word.

steve couldn't help but roll his eyes upon realising how much special treatment he was giving you. truthfully, he was thankful you were okay but there was only one thing on his mind. "never lettin' you cut fruit again." murmuring practically to himself.

however, you heard. you snapped your head up, dodging the strawberry with a shocked look on your face. "what why?" he stared at you with a little shock. "i didn't even get cut!"

he rolled his eyes, shoving the strawberry through your lips. "just eat your fruit."

main masterlist/steve's masterlist

a/n: short, sweet, i'm gonna fall asleep.

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taintedcigs · 5 months

Text

˚ 　　　 . ✧ 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐄

vol 1; made to break your heart — king!steve harrington x fgirl!reader

summary: in which you see your ex making out with someone else leaving you with no choice but to fall right into the lap of his enemy, steve harrington. (wc: 5.2k+)

warnings: smut smut smut, minors DNI, or*l sx (receiving and giving oop), some good ol’ bj, drinking, drgs, weed basically, no use of ‘y/n’, degrading, praises, LOTS OF PRAISES, they are both switches but idk if that counts??, nicknames! reader is kinda heartless basically a maneater, steve is an arrogant bastard, and hes got a big BIG di–heart. some lil’ eddie mention that u might miss if u blink!

authors note: i am kinda thinking a pt.2 of this IM open to all ideas, but i kinda am thinking of making it like a mini-series? and maybe introduce eddie in the second part, and then make part 3 steddie? mmmhmm? what do we think? my asks r open for all and any ideass anyways not proofread bc of my lazy ass. ignore any mistakes.

please like + reblog + interact to support me ! thank u ily

read vol 2 here

Booming music filled your ears, sweaty bodies swaying away from you but you couldn't care less.

Whispers from your back, collected gasps, and all you could do was watch.

Fingertips clutched on your dress in fury, gaze unable to tear away from the scene playing out right in front of your eyes.

Tina’s lips were locked onto Billy’s, you thought it was pretty soon to be swapping salivas considering it had been barely two days since he broke up with you.

The red cup in your hand was almost smushed from the hardened impact of your fists, with a quick go, you downed it, ignoring Tommy and Carol’s cackles as they watched you.

With a roll of your eyes, you were quick to turn away from them, ignoring your friends calling out for your name—you didn’t need this, you didn’t need to be pampered. You just needed a generous amount of drinks, and maybe someone to keep yourself busy with.

Tina and her lame-ass party could go fuck themselves.

Billy was an asshole, no real surprise there. And you didn’t care, because the relationship had run its course, again. Tough shit. You were used to it. Another break up with him.

You didn’t care about it, the only thing you cared about was him crossing the line, making out with another girl in front of everyone.

Each break, the two of you fucked whoever you wanted to fuck, just to end up together again, drunkenly. But this time he made it everyone’s problem, and you couldn’t let him get away with that.

The whispers, and the collective giggles every time you passed by were making your blood boil.

You couldn’t let that dipshit ruin your reputation, you weren’t going to pathetically pine over someone who could barely make you cum. And you weren’t going to let any of those gossiping assholes think otherwise.

You stumble onto the porch with a string of curses leaving your pouty lips, quick to fish out a joint courtesy to that Munson kid, always providing you with the best weed, either free or cheap, depending on how much you adjusted your skirt or batted your lashes at him.

Maybe, you should pay him a visit. For fucks sake, you’ve seen him play, and he could roll a joint blindfolded, he knew how to put those fingers to use.

You could just imagine the scorching look on Billy’s face, his velvety lips scrunched together, a sickening feeling sinking into his stomach, knowing that you fucked Eddie Munson, the guy he always went to get his weed from.

The idea of it brings a delicious smirk to your lips. But it wouldn’t be enough, no. You needed something more, something bigger.

“Need a lighter, honey?” A coarse, smooth tone has your head cocking, the joint sitting on your lips rising with the impact.

Steve fucking Harrington.

Falling right into your lap.

Billy would’ve flipped the fuck out if he knew. He always warned you about him, telling you that Harrington was off limits, no matter what. Well, until now.

Your gaze locks with his, dangerous, filthy, and exactly where you want him. Before you can drag out the joint to answer him, he acts quicker, brushing his fingertips on your chin, almost tugging you closer to him, he licks his lips, wetting them with a chuckle.

With a gentle flicker of his lighter, the tip of the joint smolders, casting a warm glow to your face that accentuates the smirk curved on your lips.

Your dress rides up your thighs when you straighten up, taking an inhale from the joint, you blow the smoke in his face without a care. He eyes each of your movements, the stupid grin sitting on his lips growing wider the more his eyes move up and down your body. You almost want to chuckle at how easy this is.

But you also know Steve’s type, you have to make them chase you a little bit, give them a little thrill, before you finally give in. And you had already been doing that, for the longest time.

Always teasing him, but never giving in. Your hands always brushed past his bicep just enough to let him know you were interested, eyelashes always fluttered at him, teeth biting on your bottom lip as you checked him out.

The little game had been fun, but you never plucked up the courage to fully give in to him, Billy would’ve lost his shit. Besides, you knew his type, and you didn’t want to be one of his other trophies. And you didn’t have to be, you just had to use him to get yourself off, and piss Billy off. The second you walked into a room with him, you knew the party would be buzzing with the gossip.

You had the perfect excuse, the perfect excuse to finally divulge your fantasies, all the cheerleaders always blabbered about him, calling him an ass, but an ass who knew how to properly use his fingers and that dangerous mouth.

Exactly what you fucking need.

You had been pent up enough for the months you were with Billy.

This would be a little reward.

“All alone?” He was smug, he absolutely knew about the break-up and possibly saw Tina and Billy’s show, so he knew this was the perfect opportunity to have you in his palm. In a fucked up way, that made you want him more, the unspoken game grew more intense with that gaze of his, he had the same idea you did. The fucker was smooth.

You nod curtly, not wanting to just fall into his lap. No matter how good he looked in those Levi’s jeans that cupped his ass perfectly. Why was he so fucking interesting to you? Arms all toned, face adorned with tiny moles, he almost seemed mystical.

And oh god, his hair. That soft, perfectly layered chestnut brown locks, so effortlessly cool that you just wanted to run your hair through it, tugging at it the more his lips sucked on your clit.

God, the thought had your thighs pressing together uncomfortably.

“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be all alone at a party,” he pouted mockingly. “Where’s that boy toy of yours?” He tutted, hand dangerously planted on your back, ghosting over your hips.

That elicited a giggle out of you, “Didn’t you hear all the rumors, pretty boy?” You leaned further, hand extending to offer him a huff. His attention was somewhere else though, eyes widening the more he admired you in that dress, showing off your curves in all the right way, tits almost busting out of your chest.

God, he had been waiting for this moment, an opportunity to have you, the second he fucking met you. But Billy got to you first.

“We broke up.” That brought his attention back to you, a smirk played on his lips when he leaned into your hand, lips wrapping around the tip of the joint, he sucked on it but his dark amber eyes remained on you.

With an inhale, “Good.” He mumbled, “knew that dipshit couldn’t handle someone like you.”

“You need someone better take care of you…” he hummed, nose dipping closer to your features, “someone who knows how to handle all of this.” His hands were placed on your waist, traveling all over your body.

Your breath was quick to get caught in your throat, a whine leaving your lips with how forward he was being.

And shit, you understood the appeal, you always did, but this time, you were sure your hunger for him grew faster than you intended to. You were in his palm, and you were more than okay with it.

“Yeah?” You teased with a giggle, head falling on his shoulder, brain getting fuzzier.

“I can make you forget him.” He’s bold, and it has your thighs rubbing together.

“By the time I’m done with you, you won’t even remember his name, or how to walk.” He’s so close to your ear, breath fanning against your breath as you almost shudder, but you play it off.

“You’re all talk, Harrington.” You licked your glossy lips, head slightly tilted to the side, teasing him just enough.

“Oh, sweetheart, I know you’ve heard the rumors, and I know you want this as much as you do.” The cocky bastard licks his lips, and you want nothing more than to bite them.

“Oh, yeah?”

“The way you press your thighs together, that little whine you just did when I barely touched you… Tells me all I need to fuckin’ know.” He whispers, and you almost whine out when a sloppy kiss is planted on your neck, harsh and needy.

“You’ll be screamin’ and beggin’ for me, angel.”

Your brows raise in interest. “That a promise?”

“Uh-huh.” He gives you a boyish grin.

“You’re on, King Steve.”

It didn’t take the two of you long enough to find an empty bedroom, lips, and teeth clashing as soon as the door closed.

The wandering eyes of the party had followed you up until that point, so you knew as soon as the two of you left the room with your sexed-up looks, everyone would know.

And you would finally have a sweet release after months of Billy’s selfishness.

A win-win.

You let his curious hands wander around your body, quick to almost rip off your dress, he wants to savor this moment, wants the image of your body engraved in his mind, stuck into the back of it just so he can fish it out whenever he can.

But he’s impatient, he’s waited for this. Wanted you longer than ever, and finally, you’re putty at his hands, ready to take whatever he’s going to give—or at least that’s what he thinks— And he’s feeling greedy. His mouth is pressed onto yours, sucking on your tongue before he lowers you down on the bed, you giggle softly when you sink into it, and Steve has never felt like this before, the hunger in his eyes ignites a spark of pleasure within you, quick to dampen your thighs with need.

A shocked gasp escapes your lips once he unhooks your bra with his left hand. Oh, he’s good. “Pretty baby,” he murmurs before his mouth is latched onto your nipples. “Perfect fuckin’ tits,” He groans into your chest, hand toying with your lace panties, shaky breaths escape his lips as he earns more whines from you.

You look ethereal, with your mouth hung open, teeth biting on your glossed-up lips, head thrown back. Just like he knew you’d be.

The more he circles around your panties the more you feel that pent-up desire burning inside of you, all those orgasmless months with Billy, and Steve was going to elicit more with just a flick of his fingers than you ever had through the entire relationship.

Maybe that’s why he always called you a bitch.

“Steve,” your whines come out pathetically as he looks up at you, layered hair already disheveled and that goddamn smirk sitting on his pretty lips.

“Already beggin’, honey?” He mocks with a grin, tugging on your nipple, all teeth and no mercy. His tongue is making its way further down, soft, wet strokes tickle your body.

“Fuck off,” You spit at him, barely, words dying down your throat when he’s quick to rip away your lacy panties. His light honey eyes are so much darker now, head thrown back when he visually drinks in your glistening pussy.

You look so fucking perfect, thighs spread apart, him between them, mouth hung open and ready to take all of him. He makes a mental image of it, burning it to the back of his mind.

“C’mon sweetheart, let King Steve know what you want, what you really need.” His voice is smooth and coarse, fingertips circling around your clit harder the more you whine for him.

“Do you need my fingers, baby? My mouth?” You moan at that, audibly. It has him chuckling darkly once he realizes how depraved you really are, one touch from him and you’re already soaking his fingers, whining like a pretty little slut.

If he knew how much you’d be such a good girl for him, he would’ve done this much sooner. Would’ve ruined your pretty little pussy for anyone else, Billy would’ve had no chance over him.

“Has that asshole not been makin’ you cum?” It was more of a rhetorical question, but the way you shook your head with a pout, had him melting. He really had you and didn’t know how to take good care of you? What a fucking loser.

“Holy fuckin’ shit… not even with his mouth?” His eyes widened, he really didn’t think Billy would be that bad, everything was working to his advantage.

“He- uh- he never…” You stammered, getting uncharacteristically embarrassed because it was, truly embarrassing. All those months with him, and half the time you faked it. Selfish prick.

“Never? Oh, baby…” He coos with a dangerous smirk, lip all pouty and mocking, “No wonder you were so desperate for me. You really needed this, huh?” He almost gave a chuckle, caressing your pussy with his middle finger, getting you all ready.

“Jerk-” You want to curse out his cockiness, tell him you don’t need him. Keep him grounded, but the whines he’s pulling out of you are enough to make him grin like a Cheshire cat.

Your breath gets shakier when his finger easies into your walls. “Sshh, relax, baby.” He coos.

“I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good, doll.” His fingers are slickly working their way in and out of you, filthy sounds mingling with your moans as his nose brushes over your clit, causing your hips to start rocking up to him.

“Had this pretty little thing, and didn’t even know how to take care of it, hmm? What a waste,” He hummed sweetly, index finger thrusting in and out of your sloppy walls.

“If I had known you’d be this fuckin’ soaked, I would’ve done this much sooner,” he taunts, fingers curling inside of you, enjoying the way you gasp out and buck your hips for more.

He dives in, pressing the flat of his tongue against your swollen lips, enjoying, fully tasting you. With a satisfied hum, he brings his eyes to meet yours, all fucked out, “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, had this sweet pussy but never even tasted it… What a fuckin’ dumbass… I’ll give you what you deserve, baby…”

He’s going to explode soon, if he doesn’t make you cum and then fuck you senseless. He can feel his balls draw up more and more, each time you whine, each time you plead for his name as a whisper.

He flicks the tip meticulously, giving you attention everywhere and anywhere, just like he knew you’d like it. “You know, I usually would never do this on a first date,” He mocks, grinning all mouthy and you attempt to dive his mouth further into you, to shut his arrogant ass up, and that fucker resists, “But god, you’re an exception… just begging to be fucked, you deserve this honey, can’t be selfish with you.”

His licks are heavenly, sucking on your clit like a man possessed, and his name falls from your lips in such a filthy way that you don’t even care how pathetic you look anymore. You accept it, you let him take full control, trashing beneath him.

“You like that, angel?” His words are muffled into your cunt, the pad of his thumb still circling around your entrance while he sucks on your clit. Your head sinks further into the softness of the bed, eyes squeezed shut, breaking apart with just his tongue. He moans into your soppy walls, sending a shock wave of pleasure to ripple through you.

He doesn’t even need your words, the visual of you squirming underneath him is enough to have him all bricked up, you taste like the sweetest sin. Velvety walls so tight that it has him bucking his hips into the bed, desperate for some friction, he needs you. And he’s sure he never wanted someone this badly before.

“So fuckin’ special, aren’t you? Such a desperate baby…” You can feel his bulge against your thigh, sitting prettily and throbbing against his boxers. You always heard how big he was, but fuck, you finally get to feel it, and it’s glorious.

And he twitched in his boxers just from eating you out? God, he was fucking perfect.

He dips his head just enough to muffle out a few more words, “I wanna taste you fully, angel. Want you to soak my tongue.” He dives in before you can reply, eliciting dirtier moans from you, alternating between his fingers and his tongue.

He doesn’t care about anything else but you, he wants you panting for him, cumming all over his tongue while you scream his name.

Your thighs start to shake once he pushes two fingers inside of you, gentle but rough enough to have you squirming and bucking your hips more into him, you’re at his mercy, and he loves how tight you are. Just the thought of your tight cunt milking his cock dry has his eyes rolling.

“S-steve,” you breathe out roughly, enjoying how his tongue is licking up that sweet spot. “I know baby,” he taunts all cockily, admiring the way your thighs shake with need. You’re going to cum soon and that prick can feel it.

“N-need to cum, please,” your pleading is unintentional, you just need a desperate release, and he’s so fucking good.

“Cum for me, angel, be a good girl for me, yeah?” Your eyes squeeze shut at the praise, and he takes note of that, admiring the way you tighten around his tongue and fingers at the praise.

His fingers are quick, making you scream out his name louder and louder. “That’s it pretty girl… cum for me.” Arrogant fuck, you wish to say, but the way he laps up your juices has you whining like a little slut. And his smirk grows wider, a wet patch forming on his boxers with how hard he’s straining them, pathetically needing to be inside of you.

You tremble, trash, squirm beneath him, his touches and stripes of licks finally enough to have your stomach twisting, with final screams of “Steve!” and “F-fuck!” the coil inside of you snaps, orgasm overtaking you with such force that your eyes are glued shut.

A gush of sweetness trickles along Steve’s tastebuds, you taste so fucking good that it drives him even crazier, lapping up at your juices and not stopping until he’s sure you’ve collapsed under him.

He’s grinning like crazy, lips all glossy with your juices, and he looks so fucking pretty like this. It makes you want to return the favor.

So badly. And the need to know if the title Big Daddy Steve really suits him or not stirs your stomach, your core pooling with need. If it’s true, your mouth waters with the desire to have him, he looks delicious, and you know he’ll look much more yummy while he’s fucking your mouth, pretty praises leaving his pale rosy lips.

The avoidant part of you screams at you to not do this, but your core is begging for more.

Maybe, just maybe, you could return the favor but still toy with him, take control, and mess with his mind.

Enough to have him begging, pleading for more from you.

As if he can hear your dilemma, he drags you back in, wrapping his fist around your hair as he pulls you toward him and draws your bottom lip into his mouth, all teeth, sucking with an exaggerated hum, “Do you like the way you taste on my tongue?” He mutters against your ear, licking a stripe of your neck.

Jesus, fuck. Now, you had to return the favor.

“Tastes so sweet,” you giggle, you are going to suck him off, but you are going to lead the way now. A smirk gleams on your lips. Teasingly, your hands trace the edge of his boxers, enough to earn a rude whine from him as you squeeze him through the harsh fabric.

You’re quick to yank his shirt off of him without a warning, and he’s quick to flaunt his well-muscled, heaving chest.

Asshole.

With a strong flip, you manage to straddle him, taking him by surprise while you grin at him, and to say Steve is intrigued would be an understatement, his cock twitches at your brow raise. “What are you doing, baby?” He still manages to be so cool that your thighs ache.

“Returning the favor,” you shrug with a smirk, eliciting low grumbles from him when you lower yourself on his chest, leaving sloppy kisses, mouth tracing a trail that leads to his delicious v-line.

You lift the elastic away from his waist, freeing his throbbing tip, the red tip slaps against his abdomen, and your brows pinch together in astonishment admiring it.

Jesus fucking Christ, he was not all talk.

King Steve, indeed.

You had to hand it down to those gossipy cheerleaders, they had described him to a t, perfect girth, slightly bent to the left, and big, really fucking big, you probably needed to use your hands along with your glossed lips to take all of him in.

He chuckled at your expression, basking in the glory of your widened eyes, “Like what you see, angel?” Another taunt, but you ignore it with a smirk this time. Pooling saliva in your mouth, you spit on the angry tip, Steve hisses at the impact and watches with a low grumble once you wrap your palm around his shaft.

He reveled in how perfectly your soft manicured fingers looked around his delicate bubblegum pink tip, attending to his every need.

Your warm fingers are working their way around his cock, coating his length with your spit as you tugged at it gently, causing his eyes to nearly roll back in his head.

He tries his best to swallow his groans, but his hips desperately jerk up at your hand, desperately fucking it, rendering you speechless.

“You like that, baby?” Your tone was teasing, and if he didn’t feel like he was about to explode he would’ve gripped your hair and fucked your mouth with such roughness that all that you would be thinking about would be his huge cock, punishing you for being such a tease, but he was the one wrapped around your finger now, literally.

“S’big, Stevie,” you coyly batted your lashes at him, and a shuddered breath left your parted lips as you looked up at him between his thighs.

He almost wept at the sight, shit shit shit, you were all of his dreams wrapped into one, and he could barely speak. Your palm easily glided down his length, saliva working as a lubricant as you teased him further.

Your other palm was quick to cup his balls, massaging them and giving them a gentle tug, while your other hand still glided down his length, enjoying the way he struggled not to let out loud groans in your hold.

Without any other word, your head tilted down, quick to mouth the tip of his intense tip, it was almost hot to touch, waiting to be attended to, so needy. Just like him.

You swipe his tip, collecting his pearl of pre-cum gently. “Jesus f-fuck!” Pathetic coarse whines leave his parted lips, he lets you take control, eyes clenched tightly.

You give his tip more kitten licks, trying to get your throat ready for his lengthy cock. “Just like that, honey,” He praises with his head thrown back, he avoids looking into your eyes, knowing that the fucked out look on your face as your pouty lips wrapped around his cock would be enough to have him spill down your throat in seconds.

And it would be a bit embarrassing for Steve, to lose his reputation to you in a matter of seconds.

“More…” He demands, but you ignore it while you continue your teasing sweet flicks on his tip, feeling him twitch around your tongue. “Pretty girl,” He whines and jolts his pelvis for more, desperate and needy. Just where you want him.

“Mhmm?” You whine with your mouth full, it sends a rush of pleasure through him, “Suck it, baby,” he whines again, this time pained with need. Your greedy eyes smile up at him and he’s sure you have done something to him.

Because he never wanted to cum this bad before. He wants to wipe that smirk off your face while you gag on his cum, struggling to swallow all of it as it spills down your cheeks, glistening your breasts, ruining that gloss forever, and instead, you walk around with his semen all over your face and lips.

It pulls a twisted groan out of him, you make him feel so perverted and he can’t fucking help himself. You finally accept his pleas, and with one glorious tug, you finally wrap your lips around his cock, fully, getting teary-eyed each time you try to take more of his flesh.

Steve can’t help himself, his head is dipped down, and he immediately feels his balls ache at the visual of you, crystal tears staining your cheeks, and even then, that lewd look did not leave your eyes.

“F-fucking slut, just like that,” His groans are uncontrollable, hips bucking further into your mouth. You don’t let him yank you by your hair, just yet. You let your mouth adjust to him, sucking him deep and tight.

“Such a good girl, suckin’ my cock with all she has, mmpf.” His praise has your core clenching, damn him.

He admires your pouty lips fully wrapped around his flesh, sucking and hollowing your cheeks as you wail for him, “Shit, shit, baby, l-look so pretty with my cock down your throat, mmhmm…” He coos, words incoherent.

“Will look even prettier with my cum shooting down that throat, isn’t that right, angel?” You hummed in agreement, looking up at him with your dark, hooded gaze, an unintentional grin playing on your lips.

He mumbled a string of curses, praising you, worshipping you. You continued your stroke on his base harshly, working the head with your tongue, a new angle that had him go absolutely insane.

“Mmmhmm, need your cum, Stevie.” You mumbled, momentarily letting your hand do all the work before you dove back in, taking his stiff cock deep in your throat, he had been struggling before, but your words were his last straw.

Because it was exactly what he fucking wanted, owning your mouth, and fucking it with ease.

His palm turned into a fist the second he held your hair, yanking it down as he pushed you further down on his cock, enjoying the way it hit the back of your throat, you gagged around it, all teary and Steve’s head fell back in pure ecstasy. “Y-yes, yes, fuck!”

“Gonna cum, baby, mmmpf, god-” He panted, his cock twitching more and more you sucked on him.

“Gonna fuckin’ s-shit-” He shuddered, thighs shaking while your throat continued to squeeze the tip of his cock, and once you gave his balls some more attention, he knew he was a goner.

“Fuckin’ give i-it to you,” He barely let out when his eyes glued shut together, almost rolling to the back of his head when you gagged around his cock, with a glorious groan of “Fuuuuuck!” Steve came in your mouth, hips still bucking into your throat as a spurt of his warm load spilled down your throat, coating it nicely.

You only let go of his softened cock with a ‘pop!’ sound once you made sure you sucked him dry, swallowing all of it while Steve watched you with such a dazzled look that it almost made you want to do more with him. But, no. This had been enough.

You enjoyed his salty taste in your mouth and the way his fingers and mouth worked inside of you. And that was enough for you. For now.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He grumbled a chuckle that had you grinning and winking at him. God, men really were easy. One blowjob and Steve was already looking at you like you were the most precious thing in his life.

You had to go easy on him, tell him that you weren’t going to let him fuck you.

Because you got what you wanted, an orgasm, and the reputation of fucking “King Steve”, everyone would be gossiping about the two of you by now, it was a matter of time before that douchebag found out.

He tried to pull you in for a kiss, but you were quick to dodge it, getting up from the softness of the bed with a groan while Steve curiously eyed you.

His brows were quick to pinch together, watching the way you easily slipped your tight dress on your body while you admired yourself in the mirror. Rubbing your lips together to fix your gloss, fingertips cleaning over the smeared mascara running down your cheeks.

“W-what are you doing?” He inquired, his face quick to fall down.

You shrugged nonchalantly, “I want to go dance,” brows then raised in excitement “Ooohh! Maybe I could get some more weed, have you seen Munson around?” You questioned, that lustful look still dancing in your eyes.

“Uhhh…” he stammered, still confused on what the fuck just happened. “Y-yeah I think-”

“Thank fuckin’ god!” You hummed with a giggle, rushing over to his side, sloppily planting a kiss on his cheek, all shiny and smeared with his juices.

You were halfway through the door when Steve’s protests stopped you. “Wait, wait, wait!” He straightened up, softened cock and all, his glistening chest was begging to be touched, but as you decided, not today.

“What the fuck? I thought-”

“What?” You asked cluelessly, brows raised.

“We were just getting started, angel,” He tried, but his voice wasn’t as arrogant or confident as it was before, and it took you so much to not let your lips twitch into a smirk.

One orgasm and he was already broken? Steve was fun to play with it.

Your giggle at him would’ve felt mocking if you didn’t do it so prettily, Steve just watched in awe.

The poor boy.

“You didn’t think it would be that easy, would you?” You tilted your head with a pout. Oh, you were good, he had to give you that.

Because once he literally got a taste of you, he wasn’t going to stop.

His lips kissed his teeth, it was surely hypocritical of him to think this was unfair since that’s what he always did to other girls.

“But–”

“See you around, pretty boy,” you cooed, throwing a wink toward his way, and shutting the door with that. Leaving Steve all alone.

He had never felt this way before. The way his cock twitched just the thought of you again had his mind flooding, you used him, gave him the best fucking head of his life, and then left.

Maybe this game would’ve pissed him off if someone else did it to him, if it was any other girl he would’ve lost interest, thinking she was trying too fucking hard, but it was you.

And all it did was drive Steve crazier, and make the chase all the more fun, and Steve was nothing, if not persuasive.

#steve harrington x reader #king!steve x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #king!steve harrington

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lovebugism · 2 months

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can i request angst☹️☹️shy!reader barely ever talking and being soo hyperaware of everything and steve slowly breaks her out of her shell? then she overhears him saying she talks too much and she just feels bad and reverts into herself

Angst w happy endingn if possible please ily!!🫶🏼

ty for requesting!! — steve tells you he likes when you talk a lot (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 1k)

Your smile is wide and unknowing. Steve thinks there’s something extra special about it because you don’t even realize it’s there. “—And since Eddie was working the register, he let me take one of the new tapes for free. You know, to try it or whatever, and he was all like, ‘flattery works with me,’ and I was like, Steve would keel over if he was here right now.”

A giggle spills from your mouth when your rambling ceases, lips curling and eyes crinkling.

Steve blinks at you with his own absentminded beam, too busy thinking about how pretty you are to react properly to your story.

Your smile sobers slightly. “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures with the shake of his neatly styled head, rogue strands of chestnut hair draping his forehead. He shrugs and leans his elbows over the Family Video counter you stand across. “You’re just… You’re talking a lot. ’S nice.”

Your face heats. Your chest burns with a similar fire. Your eyes widen ‘cause you didn’t realize that you hadn’t shut up until now. “Oh… Sorry—”

“No, it’s good!” he tells you, laughing. “It’s a compliment.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah! I mean, I used to have to bribe you to get you to talk about your day. Remember that?”

Benny’s Burgers was your very best friend at the start of your relationship. Steve would always buy your dinner — not in exchange for you to talk exactly, but in the hopes that the additional time spent with you would help you open up. It did. Most of the time, anyway.

Your nose scrunches. “I thought you took me out because you liked me?”

“I took you out ‘cause I liked you and because the sugar rush from the milkshakes made you talk more.”

You nod once. “Right.”

The conversation ebbs. The store gets eerily silent without your voices to fill it. Steve, undeterred by the lapse in dialogue, flashes you a lopsided smile. “Wanna show me the tapes you bought?”

“Yeah,” you murmur and push off the counter.

Steve watches you over his shoulder while you saunter down the hallway where your bag is kept. The breakroom door squeals open and shut again. A voice sounds suddenly from beside him. “Nice job, dingus,” Robin chides, gritty and montoned.

His head snaps to the other side, brows twisted with confusion. “What?”

“You hurt her feelings,” she answers like it’s obvious, dropping a stack of VHS tapes on the counter with a heavy thud.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You said she was talking a lot.”

“I said that I liked it!”

Robin rolls her ocean-blue eyes, huffing ‘cause he’s too oblivious to get the point. “Yeah, but if I said, Wow, you have a ton of gel in your hair— but it’s styled really nice today, it’d give you a whole complex. Wouldn’t it?”

The make-believe compliment is dreadfully backhanded. Steve’s face floods with a gentle horror, the realization of a fallacy he hadn’t realized he’d made. “Shit…”

“Exactly,” Robin deadpans. “Now go take care of your girlfriend, dingus.”

He finds you in the breakroom, idling in place. You’ve got the cassettes in your hands, and you fidget with them between anxious fingers — like you were planning to come out sometime, but not quite yet.

You tense when the door creaks open, relaxing again when Steve enters.

“Whatcha doing?” he wonders with a crooked, pink smile.

“Getting the tapes,” you answer in a mousy voice, waving the pieces of plastic in your hand.

The door clicks shut behind him. He inches towards you, fond and terribly soft with it. “I missed you,” he confesses in a faint murmur. His wide palms settle on your sides. You warm instantly under his touch.

“I was gone for two seconds,” you respond with a quiet laugh.

“Yeah. And I felt like I was dying.”

You meet his pout with a small smile, blinking up at him with sparkling doe eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I just love being around you, alright? Sue me,” he argues, squeezing softly at your hips. With a quieter smile, he confesses, “And when I said you were talking a lot— I didn’t mean anything by it, you know?”

You’d disappeared back here because you thought it was something silly to be so upset over. He’d told you it was a compliment, but it didn’t really feel like one. Your brain refused to be anything other than hurt by his well-intentioned remarks. The ache in your chest became unignorable, and you shrunk inside yourself accordingly.

“I know,” you murmur.

“I love hearing you talk,” he tells you, shy smirk widening to a lopsided beam. “It’s my favorite thing in the whole world, actually.”

Your lips purse to the side. Your anxious hands fidget with the plastic cassettes in your palms, aching to hold him. It takes you a moment or more to find the courage to speak. “I’m just… I’m normally super aware of… when I’m talking too much, you know? I was just… Excited, I guess.”

“You were. And it was really fuckin’ cute.” A laugh sputters from his lips. He wears all the love he has for you in the deep honey of his eyes, rich and swimming with warmth. “I love seeing you happy.”

“Well, you make me happy…” you whisper, gaze averted. “So, it fits…”

“Yeah, it does,” he murmurs in response, ducking down to kiss you. It’s chaste and terribly fleeting — lips locking together one moment and then smacking in protest when they separate the next.

It takes your eyes a second too long to flutter open again after he’s pulled back from you. You find Steve already grinning as he nods to the tapes in your hands. “Wanna pop those into the radio? So we can listen to ‘em while I work?”

Your brows pinch with a distant worry. “Won’t Keith get mad?”

“Probably,” Steve answers with an uncaring shrug. “You don’t have to worry about him, alright? I’ll take care of you.”

You melt.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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superblysubpar · 1 month

Text

Sincerely, Yours:

bestfriend!steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a movie night, a confession, an offer, your Calvin's bunched up on the floor of your best friend's BMW...and other places | 18+ Only, NSFW | main menu

the song: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Minds - all of steve's music

6.6k words

warnings: "inexperienced" reader - in the form of never really making out/receiving none/not great foreplay - masturbating for comfort/ease before sex, SMUT (public - in the back of Steve's car - "caught" by Hopper when you're done, oral, fingering, steve cums in his levi's cause I'm a sucker for doing this to him, what can I say?)

A/N: Once upon a time, I asked for requests, and I failed to fulfill many of them (you may have heard this story before), but this one sat in the drafts for many many months, and then I really chickened out posting it for a long time. Everyone say thanks to @palmtreesx3 - I owe her and the request for the prompt "we're not really just best friends, are we?"(which isn't even used in this, but you get the picture) and The Breakfast Club for this fic 💛

He didn’t hear it at first, over the last remaining popping kernels.

“What?” He called around a mouthful of the snack he was already dipping into before it was finished.

In the other room, your attention was strictly on Judd Nelson, but you tried again, with no real power or meaning behind the words.

“Want me to pause it?”

“No,” he shook his head and rolled his eyes to no one but himself in the kitchen, “Don’t think you need to pause the movie I’ve seen three times…this week.”

“I’d love one, thanks!”

Steve snorted at your response that made no sense, it becoming apparent you weren’t listening to him at all. He should have known this was his fate after the way you acted when it was showing at The Hawk. You saw it with him, then Robin, then Nancy, and Steve put his foot down when you tried to drag him down there for a fourth time.

Now here he was, dumping the popcorn into a large bowl and watching it again. He didn’t even know what number of views he was on with you, which had him worried about your sanity, ‘cause you had to be watching it without him too.

Steve snagged two cans of Coke out of the fridge, assuming that’s what you’d love one of, and kicked the door closed with his heel.

He cradled the popcorn bowl against his side and held each of the cans with one hand and spread fingers, socked feet slipping on the hardwoods when he rounded the corner and saw you again.

Despite becoming incredibly bored by the movie, he did love watching you watch it, because somehow, it’s as if you’re watching it for the first time every time.

Your white tube socks were stark against the dark wood of the coffee table, bunching around your ankles that led him to the exposed skin of your calves. Which led to the way your blue skirt fanned over your thighs all nice, then the Queen shirt he got you for your birthday tucked into it, your thumb between your teeth with your eyebrows bunched together.

His best friend was really fucking pretty.

He almost said it out loud, which had him flopping onto the couch a little quickly, a little too heavy with his fall. Careless in his aim of the cushion and causing popcorn to spill from the bowl into your lap as his shoulder jostled yours.

Before he could even say sorry, you were grabbing the popcorn from your lap like it was the bowl, blissfully unaware it wasn’t, all the while making heart eyes at dreamy Bender.

“Thanks,” your appreciation came out heavy around the buttery and salty handful of the snack, the Coke you’d love sitting on the coffee table, already forgotten.

Steve hummed, his amused lips twitched in a losing fight against a smile at your captivated stare fixated on the screen. He suppressed an eye roll at the scene about to happen, as he swiped condensation off the cool metal of the can with his thumb.

He popped the drink open with a loud hiss, slurping his first sip - a habit you’d normally swat at his chest for - but you were too busy focusing on the words about to leave Judd’s mouth.

“Have you ever kissed a boy on the mouth?”

They sort of just tumbled out of Steve too, while his eyes glanced over the popcorn bowl, searching for a perfectly buttery piece. Which is why he didn’t see that he, your best friend, quoting the scene that has dialogue that got you all hot and bothered more than others, had your entire body freezing.

Steve tossed the acquired piece into the air, catching it in his mouth before he turned to face your profile. He found you with widened eyes, chest rising and falling a little too quickly, and he grinned.

“Have you ever been felt up…over the bra…under the blouse…your shoes off, hoping to god your parents don’t walk in?”

He’s simply delighted when he quotes the scene again and your body shifts, toes curling as you arched your neck away from. You kept your eyes on the screen, not giving him the satisfaction of eye contact because of what he was slowly, finally, realizing.

You were totally turned on and he couldn’t wait to tease you about it forever.

Steve leaned in closer, whispering along with the movie, “Over the panties…no bra…blouse unbuttoned…Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat past eleven on a school night?”

He’s gearing up, about to tease you, make some dumb boy comment about being hot for the school freak, when your quiet, barely a breath response had him pausing.

“No.”

Did you just say that out loud?!

Your head turned to find Steve blinking at you, creases in his forehead deepening beneath the stray locks of hair that fell forward.

Looks like you did.

“Ste-”

“What? What do you mean no?”

Your eyes closed when you both spoke at the same time, avoiding his curious stare. Hands roamed to your cheeks to hide your face as your head fell towards your knees.

As you shook your head no, your response gets muffled into your skirt. “I meant no.”

Steve’s hand nudged at your shoulder, prodding for clarity and for you to sit up. He failed to sound casual when his question came out incredulously.

“No, you’ve never kissed a guy?”

Your hands still covered your face as you fell back against the couch with a groan, “No, I..I have. I just…”

Steve pulled at your hands, his heart racing like it was overtime. All these years, he thought you’d been with all these other guys, his quiet jealousy seething under the surface of his tinged green from envy skin.

A breath, well, more of a huff really, slipped past your lips as your gaze dropped to the hands holding yours in your lap. “I’ve never really made out with anyone? Just like…a quick kiss or two. I don’t even know, can you even count it as kissing? Over before it starts kind of thing…”

The ramble trailed off, the room silent save for the movie still playing and the giant, loud, big, fat, zero response from Steve. You counted the threads in the carpet, the pieces of popcorn in the bowl as your skin grew hotter and hotter from the reveal he’s left just hanging there until he finally sputtered out a sorry excuse for one.

“Are you shitting me? We’re like…old.”

It doesn’t come out how he meant it to at all, he’s just shocked. He’s wincing almost immediately as the words reach his ears and brain, he knows how it sounded. He wishes he could take it back when your head whips up, hurt eyes meeting his as you ripped your hands away from him.

“Yeah, Steve,” you scoffed, jaw pulsing as your voice dripped with sarcasm that tried to cover the embarrassment, “I’m shitting you. Thought it’d be real funny to trick you into thinking your best friend is a loser who’s barely been kissed even though she’s so old.”

Pieces of popcorn fell from your lap as you stood, not letting yourself wonder where they came from as you stomped around the coffee table and towards his entryway.

“No, honey, wait-” he stumbled after you, spilling Coke down the front of his shirt as he did, “Shit.”

He patted at his chest like it’d do anything, shirt damp and sticking to his skin as he rounded the corner and found you lacing up your converse and shaking your head.

“It’s fine, Steve. I’m fine. I just don’t feel like talking about it. I’m gonna go home. Don’t worry about it. Girl stuff.”

“No, please, I didn’t mean-”

His words stopped just as abruptly as your body, when the front door swung open to reveal an out of nowhere downpour.

Your head fell as you started to ask, and he was already one step ahead of you.

“Can you please-”

“I’ll grab my keys.”

He was tripping up his stairs by the time he finished saying it. When he returned, it was in a clean shirt, jumping from the second to last step as he swirled the keys around his pointer finger.

The light blue fabric of his new shirt pulled at his shoulders that hunched when your glare remained unwavering despite the apologetic puppy dog eyes he had going for him.

You understood Steve didn’t mean for the comment to start the hole he was digging, and you knew you weren’t being fair for being so upset. It’s not like it was his fault, it was just your own insecurities manifesting in an anger towards him.

The nagging feeling of being some sort of freak who’d never made out while even the little twerps who clung to Steve were, while your best friend was Steve Harrington, former king of Hawkins High only grew stronger. The thought of Steve thinking you were some sort of weirdo for being old and never making out had something in your gut churning, had a familiar sting behind your eyes forming that you tried your best to ignore.

When Steve opened his mouth, about to try to make it all better again, you simply turned on your heel and stalked out into the rain. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at the way you stomped through it, pretending to not be drowned.

He quickly rushed behind you and got to the door first and swung it open, to which you rolled your eyes at, but slid in and got comfortable while he closed it for you nonetheless.

Unsure why he went and changed as he raced around the hood and shot into the driver’s seat, totally soaked through to his skin now. He cranked the heat before swiping fingers over his eyes, a large hand ran through his hair and pushed it back only for it to fall into his eyes again. Steve reached over with wet and shaking fingers at the same time you held yours up, both of you pausing and glancing at the other’s hands.

Steve was about to cup your fingers between his and blow warm breath onto them, just like he always did, but you ripped your hands down to your lap, and curled your body against the door, like you needed to be as far from him as you could be.

Your damp forehead touched the cool glass of the window as he sighed, “Please don’t-”

“Just take me home, please?”

The tone in which the words were said has something in his chest breaking. Like you were really fucking sad, embarassed, it was a real plea to just take you home and leave you alone.

So he wasn’t gonna do that, ‘cause he never was a great listener, so why start now?

He pretends though, he backs out of the driveway and heads in the direction of your apartment. He lets the radio fill the space and he turns the heat down when the air inside the car is heavier and warm despite your cold shoulder. The orange glow of the street lights slanted inside the car in a soothing rhythm as his wheels spun over the pavement until he was coming to the last four way stop before your apartment.

It unfolds just as he had planned, when he’s still stopped at the deserted intersection, as your breath fogged up the glass when you asked, “Harrington, you planning on leaving the intersection anytime soon?”

His bottom lip wobbled as his teeth continued to press into it, thick fingers rubbing at a scruff dotted jaw as he thought out loud in an attempt to sway you.

“Well, you see, I could go straight and take you home-” he started.

“Right. Let’s do that.” You waved your hand towards the direction of the apartment that held the ice cream you were desperate to eat and wallow with while watching Pretty In Pink.

“Or,” Steve interrupted right back, tapping on the steering wheel with his finger as he did, “I could go to the right. Pull into the diner. Buy you a milkshake and say sorry?”

The thing was, he was gonna go to the right regardless of your answer. He knew once you pulled into the parking lot there was no way you’d not at least go in and get fries and a shake, if not a whole burger. You’d done this dance before, him putting his foot in his mouth was not a new occurrence.

Your lips twitched, but your arms stayed crossed as he hummed and whispered, “Tough choice…tough choice…”

Shoulders fell in defeat, but your mouth stayed downturned in a forced frown as you grumbled, “And fries.”

Steve smiled, turned on his blinker and nodded. He cleared his throat.

“And fries. Definitely.”

“And none of that you order yourself a vanilla shake and I order strawberry and you drink half of mine because it’s better and eat all the fries shit.”

“Of course,” Steve scoffed, “I would never do that.”

Steve slipped his straw into your shake, pulling the glass across the sticky tabletop as you did the same with his. He tried not to smirk around the straw when you did, dipping a fry in his vanilla he ordered for a reason despite the strawberry being better.

“Do you think Claire is a prude for never doing anything?”

He shook his head no almost immediately, swiping at stray ice cream from the corner of his mouth with his tongue.

You fiddled with the straw wrapped between your fingers and narrowed your eyes at him.

“Would your answer be the same if, say, Eddie was sitting here asking you? Not me, your best friend, who you have sudden pity for?”

He blinked at you and sighed, “I don’t have pity for you.”

“Your mouth and your eyes are telling two different stories Harrington,” you waved a fry at him as you spoke, gesturing to his face with it.

Your gaze stayed on the fry you were ripping in half, focused on watching it sink into the sweet vanilla as he dared to say, “I just don’t get it.”

“What, that I haven’t done that and I’m so old,” you tried to tease, to move past it.

But the way you were licking salt off your finger had him wondering if he swiped his own through the salt on the tray and pushed the pad against your lips if they would part like they were now, if he could taste it on your lips if he just leaned forward and-

“No, ‘cause you’re so fucking pretty.”

He definitely said it out loud that time.

You blinked at him, cheeks suddenly too warm for the cold and damp Spring that had been surrounding you all day.

“Ste-”

“And so smart,” he licked his lips, leaning forward, unable to stop now that it was out, “And funny. And…and sweet, you’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I know, I just don’t understand how guys aren’t falling over themselves, unable to do anything but make out with you, or more or-”

“I never said I didn’t do more,” you whispered, ignoring all of his compliments that made your chest feel all tight and sticky and choosing to argue with him instead because that was easier.

“But you said…if you haven’t made out with anyone…”

Your body slipped lower against the squeaky seat, embarrassed as you shrugged and Steve felt too hot in the tiny little booth, thinking about all those guys’ hands on you again, and then what you said, what it meant, really clicked.

“Hold on…how…how’d…you didn’t, build up to it?” He asked softly, eyes bouncing over your face with worry.

“Steve,” you grabbed for the other shake, and sat up straighter, “We don’t need to talk about this. It’s not import-”

“It’s so important,” he grabbed your hand and squeezed your fingers lightly, “Half the fun is all the build up to it. And,” he swallowed, forehead creasing with deeper worry, “And then it, it doesn’t hurt. ‘Cause tell me if I’m wrong, but if they weren’t making out with you, were they doing anything to make sure you felt good?”

You squirmed in your seat, fingers pushing up against his mindlessly, aimlessly, as you shrugged again. “It’s only hurt a few times. I learned that if I…um, If I got myself ready beforehand, that I was, uh, more comfortable.”

Steve’s fingers let go of yours with the excuse of grabbing a fry, because he was trying not to be a gross guy, but all he could think about was you in your bedroom, with your fingers between your thighs now. Did you play music? What song? Did you have underwear on? What color? With a shirt that your nipples were visibly hard through as you touched yourself and maybe it was his shirt or maybe you said his name or-

“Right,” Steve nodded, “Um, right. And that’s great, lots of people do that for a date, so like if you need or want to beforehand that’s not…that’s great. It just shouldn’t be the only thing, you know? They should be putting in the work, they should be wanting to. And dates! They should watch a movie with you, and dinner and drive around and then kiss so much you feel dizzy and then if you want, more.”

He finished his rambling speech and you smiled softly, unsure of what to say, because you knew he wasn’t wrong, it’s just that they had.

“They did,” you sighed, “Well, not Paul.”

Steve scowled at the table, “Yeah, well, I’m sure you weren’t missing much. Who wants to yell out Paul?”

“Oh,” you laughed, “And Steve is so much better?”

He looked up at you, your smile sweet and kind and your eyes a little sad, but trying not to be and he wanted to say yes. He wanted to tell you that if it was those lips and that voice saying it, it was better, because how could it not be? Like his name only had the best letters, like it belonged to the best guy in the world, one that belonged to you and no one else.

But you were swiping at ice cream on your lips and sighing, saying something that made his chest ache instead.

“They were nice dates. And it’s not like the sex was bad. But,” you looked out the window, eyes tracking the droplets of rain twinged neon from the light hanging above you both, “The kissing till I’m dizzy sounds nice. Is it…is it fun?”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered, admiring the way the red and blue lit up your profile before you turned to face him.

And then he was saying something before he really thought it through, because god you weren’t just fucking pretty, you were the most beautiful person he’d ever met and no way in hell was he letting anyone treat you the way you’d been ever again. So this was his chance, and he was taking the leap.

“I could…” he blew out a breath and smiled. He sat up straighter, and he searched for some sort of lingering king steve confidence he could latch onto without all the douche as he asked, “I could show you?”

To both of your surprise, you’d said yes, and he paid and you were in the car, driving, and parked somewhere in what felt like seconds. Now your best friend sat across from you, both of you facing the center console, but not daring to do more.

The rain beat against the roof of the maroon car, each drop a punctuated tick of a nonexistent clock - a meter for how much time was passing without movement, without words. Just both of your breathing filled the space. First exhaling, then desperately inhaling for more air as your chests rose and fell ragged. And then, like in some unspoken agreement only best friends can have, you both started to lean forward cause you just knew.

Your heart’s thrum threatened to drown out the rain, building and building, screaming to break out of your chest, pounding in your ears while your cheeks grew warm and your stomach dipped as Steve’s tongue slipped out quickly and wetted his lips.

But then he leaned and his eyes started to close and you giggled, fingers slipping over your lips as his eyelids shot open.

“Sorry,” you gasped and shook your head and your hands out as you tried to be serious, “Your ‘I’m about to kiss you’ face is real cute, Harrington.”

Tried being the definitive word.

“Cute?” He groaned, smiling, “Not sexy?”

You leaned in, faster this time, a smile matching his as you shrugged, “It’s nice. Never thought I’d be on the opposite side of it, is all.”

It’s easy to tilt your head and welcome the hand that reached up to cradle your jaw as he softly promised, “Your ‘I’m about to be kissed face’ is really cute too.”

The pad of his thumb brushed over the apple of your cheek in the tenderest touch you’d ever felt, before his fingers curled under your jaw and tilted you gently, slowly, up so his lips were right over yours.

It felt like he was handling you like the most precious and fragile thing, like a prized possession that he’d only ever hold with care and never let another soul touch.

His breath fanned over yours, warm and sweet smelling, vanilla and cherry just out of reach for you to taste as you dared to quip back again. “Alright, I’m gonna have to cross reference these lines with other girls you’ve promised to make dizzy, Harrington, cause if that’s the first time you’ve used that, I’m afraid it’s far too smooth…”

Steve’s heart felt like it was trying to claw out of his chest as you laughed, smiling at him when he responded, “And, I think that’s enough out of you.”

Which you couldn’t help but reply back to with, “Yeah? Have some fancy trick to get me to stop talking?”

He laughed, low, muffled and deep in his chest. “A few.”

A sharp inhale slipped past your lips when his nose bumps yours, not realizing how close he’d gotten while you joked back and forth nervously. There wasn’t a protocol on how to let your best show you a proper make out, on how to just dive in and start, you just knew you wanted to.

Steve’s swallow bobbed his adams apple as the leather beneath you creaked from shifting weight, needing to get closer. And as you did, his eyes found yours, mossy and dark in the low light, the browns and golds washed away in the rain. Their gaze flitted down to your lips, back up to fluttering eyelashes, and then his own eyelids were closing.

All it took was another breath in, an exhale out, and his lips were on yours. A simple, slow press, holding your top lip between the both of his. Strawberry and vanilla teasing you, and soon he was moving, now bottom lip between his and you got it. Your mouths parted together, lips slotting in a rhythm that came naturally, that clicked.

Something in your stomach fizzled and crackled like the sparklers you lit every year in his driveway on the fourth as the sigh from his nose hit your cheek. Body warm and sticky in a way that was usually reserved for Summer when his fingers skated over your jaw, up and around your ear, until they were cradling the back of your neck and pulling you closer. His mouth moved with yours in a way that could only be described as frantically graceful - needing more, hurried, hungry, but with the promise and precision of someone who knew what he was doing. It had your stomach dipping, like a freefall, like the greatest and scariest thing you’d ever felt.

If he’d have opened his eyes, he’d have found you with your hands suspended between your bodies though. Fingers not quite brave enough to reach up and get lost in his hair, but not content to just sit in your lap and do nothing either.

And if you'd opened your eyes, you’d have found his other hand gripping the center console like he was hanging on for dear life. ‘Cause holy shit was he trying to go slow, but kissing you was like chasing the last few minutes of sunlight in July - sweet and fleeting and magic - something you needed to make last, to soak up every last drop of until you couldn’t any more, not by choice, but because the sun has to set and he has to breathe.

In a shared gasp for air, you parted, but his lips were back on yours immediately, making your stomach swoop even more, like an entire family of butterflies had decided - hey, we live here now and we’re gonna make a ruckus so get used to it.

You didn’t mind.

Steve’s fingers found yours and without breaking his rhythm, he tugged, guiding them to his shoulders that were practically on your side of the console now, which wasn’t doing something great to his already somersaulting stomach.

He slowed down as your fingers brushed over and back on the collar of his shirt and his hands cradled both of your cheeks, pulling you off of his lips regretfully. You were both breathing like you’d run a marathon, his forehead pressed to yours as he gasped out, “Dizzy yet?”

“No,” you lied.

He grinned, tip of his nose tracing the bridge of yours as he admitted, “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you like that.”

You couldn’t even respond, couldn’t tell him you wanted that too, couldn’t tell him that it was something you only dared let a daydream or two convince you it could happen before you were shutting it down, cause he was still talking.

“And now that I have,” he swallowed, his thumbs glided down opposite sides of your neck as he shook his head, “I’m never stopping.”

Then he was kissing you again, and if you thought he was frantic before…

You had this feeling that even if those other guys had made out with you, kissing them wasn’t and never would be the same as kissing Steve Harrington.

Soon one of your feet was on the seat, the other bracing yourself in the footwell. He had a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and yours were finally starting to dare to journey past their spot on his shoulders and then your skirt was caught on the gearshift and he was stopping you again.

“Honey, what are you doing?”

“So was that ‘never stopping’ just a nice sentiment or are you planning to back it up with action?” You huffed, distracted by pink lips that twisted into a crooked smile as he looked at your pretzeled body.

Your shoulders fell as you nodded your head towards his side of the car and admitted, “I just want to be closer.”

“Oh, right.” Steve swallowed, and you wondered if it’d be weird if you kissed every freckle and mole you could find on his throat. Something told you he wouldn’t mind when he asked, a little more eager than you’d heard tonight, “Backseat?”

And you clambered out of the car, the slowing rain soothing to heated and flushed skin under the mussed clothes, and then you were both meeting in the backseat, but the nerves returned. The way you both glanced at the space between you and were immediately and acutely aware of the lack of anything between you except doubt and fear. Was this a mistake? What about your friendship?

Steve looked at the space, at you, and then held up his finger in the symbol for one sec as he said, “Hold on,” and half climbed back into the front seat. His torso draped over the console as he loudly opened the glovebox and rummaged around inside, before he was fiddling with the radio, and falling back into the seat.

His cheeks pink, but his smile wide as he looked at you again. “Hey! I’m so glad we could do this tonight. You look beautiful. Ready to watch your favorite movie?”

“Wh-what?” You laughed, totally and utterly confused.

He tugged on your fingers, and pulled you to the middle, until you were slouched next to each other, shoulders touching as he shushed and said, “The Breakfast Club is starting.”

And the music playing over the radio,Simple Minds, a cassette he must have put in, had your chest swelling with something that was sure to burst and explode and kill you, because the boy was actually pretending you were on a couch, on a date, in a living room, watching a movie - it was perfectly Steve and you, and the best first date you’d ever been on.

His left hand picked up yours, resting it on your thigh and played with your fingers. The pads of his traced up and down and over your hand as he stared at the windshield, his temple resting against yours. The music played, and his fingertips swooped between the curves of each finger aimlessly, the sides of his fingers running down yours and back up making it really hard to concentrate on the non-existent flick.

When you finally relaxed into his side, when you flipped your hand over so he could draw little loop de loops on your palm, he quietly asked, “Who’s your favorite?”

“Brian,” said without hesitation.

Steve groaned, in pain, “Ugh, you would like him the best.”

You laughed, turning to look up at him a bit from where your head had fallen to his shoulder, “Don’t knock him Steve,” you spoke softly, fondly, “You’re a lot more of a dork like him than you think.”

Steve made a pft noise, fingers now interlaced with yours as he turned his head, the tip of his nose touching yours as he looked down at you with the sort of look the guys give the girls in the movies, one that should be illegal from the way it had that family of butterflies shouting about their presence again and fluttering around.

“Hey Steve?”

“Hmm?” He hummed, eyelashes fluttering as he sighed when your thumb brushed over his knuckles.

“This is a really great…first date?” You asked, hopeful that it wasn’t just an offer, that you weren’t some game, that the guy next to you was just as crazy about you as you were him.

“Yeah?” He smiled, proud, and then bragged, “Wait till the second one.”

It was your turn to hum, to look into his eyes and get a little lost as his mouth parted and you both scooted closer, waiting, as he squeezed your fingers wrapped around his.

“You’re making the ‘I’m about to kiss you face’ again, Steve,” you whispered, lips brushing his as you did.

“Right,” he whispered back, bottom lip catching yours as he suggested, “Which means you should probably stop talking again.”

This kiss wasn’t as easy and smooth, made difficult by grins of fools who were totally in love but wouldn’t admit it just yet, but how could you both not be after years together?

But you smoothed it out quickly, and soon he was swiping his tongue over your bottom lip as his hand gripped at your waist a little tightly. He traced over your top lip as your entire body turned towards his, like a plant in search of sunlight, his body on yours fundamental to your survival.

He gasped as you straddled him, your mouth swallowing the sound as his hands roamed up your sides, taking the hem of your shirt with it so his fingers could scrape at the skin just under your ribs before they dared to drift along the band of your bra.

You let out a sound that he’d never forget as long as he lived when you finally lowered yourself, skirt fanning over your laps so the sinful way he pressed up against your pristine soaked Calvin’s was slightly hidden. The unclip of your bra and the removal and toss over the seat was fluid, and you couldn’t think about it because the way his hand on your chest felt, the thumb over a pebbled nipple was something you’d only let yourself think about in moments of need before a date that wasn’t him.

Steve was wrong, the build up was more than half the fun.

The way his hands buzzed against your spine like the air after fireworks, the way his tongue brushed yours, the way he couldn’t help but guide your hips to rock against him. Denim hitting cotton in the exact right spot so the nerves underneath it got the friction they were aching for, while your mind ran away from you, thoughts about how this was just getting started. How there was more.

His lips left yours and his smile pressed to your jaw when the action got a soft whimper to fall from you. He tutted into your neck, lips grazing over an erratic pulse as he whispered, “Can I touch you?”

“Is that,” your breath hitched around the words as his tongue licked a thick stripe over your neck that extended, “Is that a part of making me dizzy or the more, when I’m sufficiently so?”

“You’re not yet?” His teeth scraped at where his tongue had just been. “I like when you say words like sufficiently, ‘s’hot.”

You laughed as his lips kissed the same spot, and then he was sucking, skin beneath his tongue warm and sending a message to your brain that you liked that a lot.

“Yeah,” you hiccuped, eyelids fluttering in their view of the car’s roof as you arched and his hands gripped your hips, “Yeah, touch me.”

He didn’t have to be told twice, arm around your waist holding you steady while the other traveled under the hem of your skirt. His mouth moved to below your ear and as his fingers glided up your thigh. He sucked and kissed, and sent that message to your brain again, having you say his name and god’s in the same desperate sentence.

Steve wasn’t gonna last much longer.

Especially when his fingers met the wet cotton and you moaned, so much filthier than he’d have thought possible. Especially when he circled over your clit through the fabric and you rolled your hips with the movement, far dirtier than he thought you were capable of.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaked.” He mouthed at the collar of your rucked up shirt, looking down at the way your hips rolled over his but he couldn’t quite see what was underneath.

You hid in the crook of his neck, hot, and you didn’t know if it was because the windows were fogged and Steve was so fucking good at this or because you were embarassed by how turned on you were from his next words.

“Please, I gotta,” he slipped a finger under the fabric and you shuddered as it ran down your slick and back up, “I gotta taste you. I need to put my mouth on you. Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

You were on your back, Calvin’s in a ball on the front seat, with Steve crouched between your thighs not even a minute later.

Thick fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt from his spot, blown out pupils taking over his stare up at you. One of your converse pushed to the other side of the car against the door as your fingers curled around the base of the sweating window above you.

Steve kissed your knee, and made his way higher between your legs slowly, until he was flipping your skirt up and swallowing as he stared at the space like it was a fucking artwork.

You giggled, nervously under the intense awestruck stare, squeezing your eyes shut as he strained to get out, “Fuck, honey, you’re trying to kill me.”

He was mesmerized, the way you clenched around nothing, his thumbs spreading you so he could see just how wet you were for him.

He was really not gonna last much longer. Straining in his jeans painfully like a teenager.

And that was before you whimpered, before you said:

“Steve, please.”

“Only,” he swallowed, leaning down so his breath hit your cunt in a way that had your hips wiggling, and him closing his eyes, “Only cause you asked so nicely.”

His thumbs held you open, massaging the sides as his tongue licked once, slow and broad, following the path of his nose up to your clit. He did it again, and again, and again. Until his fingers were slipping inside of you, pumping in and out of walls that held him tightly and his mouth sucked at your clit. Then you tugged, forcefully at the curls at the back of his head and practically screamed his name. Like it was full of only the best letters. Like it was yours.

Your stomach burned, the butterflies angry and in your chest now too, on fire, but happy about it. Steve’s fingers inside of you and mouth on your clit better than any orgasm you’d ever had, and you couldn’t help it when you came without warning, toes curling inside of your converse that kicked at the door and his thigh, while your fingers slipped on the window and your chest ached for a breath as it yelled his name in a way that the whole world would have to know how you felt when they heard it.

He didn’t pull away until you were gasping and your thighs were shaking and your fingers loosened in his hair. His cheek pressed to your thigh as he stared up at you and gasped out a proud, smug, “I’d like to see Bender of Brian do that.”

You laughed, tired, but happy, and he crawled up your body, kissing any part of it he could find while he ignored the uncomfortable wet patch in the front of his Levi’s.

Except you noticed and raised your eyebrows at it, a little smug yourself as you said, “Bet Claire couldn’t do that.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but then you were both flinching as a loud smack of something hit the back window. He glanced up and cursed under his breath, rolling down the window slightly as he called out from on top of you, “Hey, Hop.”

There was a loud, deep, sigh from outside as you both sat up with apologetic faces and Steve rolled down the window further.

Hopper’s cigarette smoke wafted in as he looked at the pair of you with a touch of surprise when he saw it was you next to Steve in the fogged up beemer. He shook his head, frown under the mustache forced. “It’s past eleven. On a weeknight. Have some decency and do this at home in front of a movie like normal people next time, yeah?”

You both nodded, your teeth pulling at your lip in a terrible attempt at not smiling.

He walked away, and you and Steve slapped hands over each other’s laughs and snorts, but you still managed to catch the quiet, “Bout damn time.”

And when Steve dropped you off at home, with a kiss to seal it all and a promise of a real date tomorrow that he’d pick you up for, you shoved the bunched up Calvin’s in his front pocket with your own promise, whispering in his ear the words “Sincerely, yours” before you left him with his mouth open on the front steps, watching you walk away.

#superbly subpars writing #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington smut #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic

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aphrogeneias · 8 months

Text

more than seven minutes — one-shot

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after you spend nearly a week completely avoiding your best friend, he takes matters into his own hands. and if that means locking you into a room with him until he makes you talk, then so be it.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: smut (+18), fluff, friends to lovers, forced proximity, love confessions, mentions of a sex dream, dry humping, oral sex (f receiving), hand job, dirty talk

author's note: another reupload! this is the only steve fic i've ever written, or rather, the only one i started and finished. not sure if i really write steve that well, but i tried <3 this has a part two and will be uploaded soon too.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Don't you trust us?"

From your left, Robin's faux exasperated tone had you throwing her a mean side-eye. Her girlfriend, Vickie, on your right, giggled, "I don't think she does, Rob."

It wasn't that you didn't trust them. On a normal day, you would trust those two with your life, but given the circumstance you recently put yourself into, you couldn't help but be suspicious.

They'd found you hiding — or trying to, at least — at the back porch during another one of Tina's house parties, which were getting more and more boring to you, but you needed an escape, and cheap beer with some questionable company would have to do it.

You were sitting with another one of your friends when Robin and Vickie, appearing seemingly out of nowhere — confusing you immensely because they'd be two people you wouldn't expect to find at Tina's on a Friday night — took your plastic cup from your hand and pulled you by the arms to follow them.

Dragging you along, each one linked to your arms from both sides, passing in between the crowd of bodies gathered in the living room, occasionally having to push a drunk jock out of the way, and guiding you up the stairs, into the upstairs hallway. They moved fast, the people around you passing by like a sea of blurred faces.

You were thrust forward when you reached one of the doors, and were pushed inside by Robin, who flashed you an apologetic smile, shrugging, "I'm sorry!"

"Robin!" Yelling over the loud music that bled through the walls, you could hear giggling from the outside, as well as the sound of a key being turned in doorknob. Your heart raced as you slowly realized what was happening, "Vickie! What the fuck?"

You knew who was behind you without even having to turn around.

Taking in your surroundings, you could tell it was a guest room, untouched by the madness going on downstairs and in the hallway. Sitting on the neatly made bed, above the soft pastel bedding, Steve Harrington looked like a kicked puppy, brown eyes following your every move from where you stood, still at the bedroom door, unsure of what to do.

He was the first to break the silence, "So… now I have to resort to kidnapping you in order to have a conversation with my best friend?"

Leaning back into the cold wooden surface of the door, you tried to sound as unbothered as possible, knowing very well you were about to crack. "I wouldn't call that much of a kidnapping. Your henchwomen are a little too clumsy for that."

When Steve didn't answer you, merely raising an eyebrow, unamused, you tried again. "So, uh… what is this, exactly? Seven minutes in heaven? You know this isn't seventh grade anymore, right?"

"No, if it was seventh grade you would still be talking to me and not acting all weird for a whole damn week and not telling me why!"

"I'm not acting weird…"

"Bullshit! You are avoiding me like the plague and I need to know why."

You weren't avoiding Steve.

At least, that's what you had told him the first time he confronted you about it, almost a week ago. He had showed up at your house, unannounced as always, with a new film he knew you'd love and a bag of popcorn and candy, walking in as if it was own place — and it was, in a way, more of a home than his own has ever been. You made up an excuse about how you were sick and didn't want to get him sick as well, ushering him out of the house with an apology and the promise of a raincheck on your movie night.

After that, he'd been calling you, asking what was wrong and why were you avoiding him, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him the truth. You'd told him it was nothing, you were sick that day, then you were busy, and then… you were running out of excuses.

The truth was that you couldn't look your best friend in the eyes anymore.

Sighing, you looked down at your feet, shuffling in place, "It's nothing, Steve. I'm just confused about… something, but I promise it has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong, it's just, just a thing that happened." You stuttered.

There was a shift in the air, the tension dropping in the atmosphere as Steve's expression lightened, suddenly focusing entirely on you. He rose from his place on the bed and walked over to you, his body crowding your personal space.

"Hey…" You felt a hand gently hold your chin, forcing you to look at him, warm brown eyes searching for yours. "I'm not mad at you, okay? I'm just worried. We used to tell each other everything and now you're acting like this and I don't know what to think."

Overwhelmed by Steve's closeness, his smell and the heat of his body invading your senses, and his hand moving to cradle your cheek, distracting you from gathering your thoughts, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. "If I tell you, do you promise you'll stay not mad at me?"

"I don't think I could ever be mad at you, Y/N."

With a deep breath, you walked away from him. The nearness, the feeling of his hand on your skin brought you vivid memories of the exact reason you were pushing him away.

"Ihadasexdreamaboutyou."

"A what?"

"A sex dream! I had a sex dream about you and I'm embarassed enough as it is, okay? I know it's weird, but we can't really help what we dream of, you know? It's like our brains produce images using the faces of people we know but it doesn't necessarily mean anything…"

"I get it! I get it, you don't need to explain yourself, I promise." Steve interrupts your rambling, you're still avoiding making eye contact with him, but you notice a light shade of pink take over his face. Silence fell over the room, both of you still trying to come to terms with what you'd just confessed.

"What was your dream like?"

He was closer now, you realized. There was something different in his eyes, a look you'd never seen before — far more intense, pupils blown wide. An electric current grows between you, like a live wire, ready to explode. It didn't help you stop thinking about the Steve in your dream, looking up at you with those same eyes, hands hungrily exploring your naked body.

It was all you could think about in the past few days — and then, there he was, warm and real, right in front of you, your Steve.

"Steve…"

"Please? I'm curious. It can't be that bad."

Turning around, you stared at the wall instead of having to look at him, feeling flustered all over. "I don't remember a lot of the details, but, uh… I think we were on my couch and we were… I was riding you, I think." Letting out a nervous laugh, you gathered the courage to turn again, pretending to not be affected, "Crazy, right?"

"Not that crazy. Coming from you, I was expecting something a little more shocking."

You laughed earnestly then, feeling some of the tension leave your body. "Yeah. Screw you, Harrington."

Steve started taking a few tentative steps forward, and instinctively, you took some backwards, until your back hit the wall behind you. Leaning in, those same dark, hungry eyes lowered to your lips, and down to your cleavage — you felt vulnerable under his gaze, but not uncomfortable. It felt right, even though it made your skin prickle. "Can I ask you one more question?"

"Yeah." You breathed out.

One of his hands trailed along your waist, keeping you still as the other rested beside your head, on the wall. This was a line you'd definitely never crossed, even with Steve being as affectionate as he was, always keeping at least one hand on you. Not even in the many times you'd shared a bed and woke up tangled in each other. This was different, heavy with anticipation.

"Did you… touch yourself… thinking about this dream of yours?"

It felt like your head was spinning. Despite yourself, you drew in a sharp inhale, "Do you really need to know that?"

"Only if you want to tell me." His voice was gentle, much more restrained than the wild look in his eyes, barely keeping himself together. "But something tells me you do."

Steve wasn't blind to the effect he had on you, especially up close, where he could feel your heavy breathing, watching the way your body responded to his. Throwing every caution you had out of the metaphoric window, you finally looked him in the eyes, bringing him closer, and resting your hands on his broad shoulders.

"What if I told you that I did? What if I told you that I had my fingers inside of me thinking about how good it would feel if I was bouncing on your cock instead? How would it feel to have you run your hands all over me while I do it? Is that what you want to hear?"

Like the cat who got the cream — or the guy who got his best friend to confess how badly she wants to fuck him — he smirked, now holding you with both hands around your waist.

"Any chance you want to make that dream come true, baby?"

"If King Steve is offering, who am I to refuse?"

"Shut up."

Snaking a hand up your back, raising a chill up your spine, and holding the back of your neck, his mouth descended on yours with a deep kiss. It started clumsy, all teeth and uncoordinated hands, two friends who dared cross a line they'd never return from. Steve took control, then, leading you towards the bed, and laying you on top of it, his hands never leaving your body as he climbed on top of you.

"You should have told me about this earlier. Could've helped you out, you know." He said, in between kisses, descending his mouth to your jaw, and down to your neck, his tongue eliciting tiny gasps from your gaping lips, "You were driving me insane."

His hands travelled under your shirt, after yanking it from under your skirt, finding your covered breasts. Too eager to feel you, he felt you up over your bra, squeezing and caressing his thumb over your nipples. Between Steve's hands and his kisses, you were left breathless under him, seeking whatever release you could get, grinding your hips against his thigh, which was resting between yours. You could feel your cotton panties cling to your wet folds, slick with desire.

"I think you're the one driving me insane here." You whined, biting his lower lip and dragging it just slightly. Steve's eyes darkened above you, and you felt his hands lower, slowly, to the hem of your already bunched up skirt. You watched as he sat up on his knees and removed his polo shirt, revealing his broad chest, and feeling the sudden urge to run your hands over the tuft hair and the smattering of freckles covering it.

"Consider it payback, baby."

They stopped at the waistband of your underwear, and stilled, as he asked, brown eyes as gentle as ever, almost whispering, "This okay?"

"Yeah. Please."

Lowering his head, he left kisses over your thighs as he brought the fabric down your legs and off your body, his hot mouth leaving a trail of small teeth marks and spit that warmed you to your core. There was an underlying devotion in Steve's touch, a reverence he always treated you with — like you were something precious, something worthy of praise. It set you alight under his expert fingers, running over the soft skin of your parted thighs.

Wasting no more time, Steve licked a long stripe over your weeping slit, flattening his tongue. You dropped your head to the pillow beneath you, not being able to stop the moan that rose on your throat. One of your hands reached to grab his hair as he alternated between flicking his tongue over your clit and sucking on it, groaning into your pussy like he was enjoying it just as much as you were. His strong hands grabbed your thighs and pulled you further into him, burying himself into you, his nose touching your clit as he delved his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it.

A litany of moans filled the room, along with the filthy, sloppy sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy. You felt delirious, skin burning and grinding yourself shamelessly into his mouth, meeting his movements.

"Isn't that better, honey?" He teased, bringing a finger down to your entrance and into you, stroking your walls in a torturingly slow pace, making you pout as you kept moving your hips, "Better than fucking yourself with your tiny, little fingers? You could have had this instead of hiding from me."

Mumbling something incoherent, you could barely keep your thoughts together as you felt him add a second finger into you, pumping them faster this time.

"Louder. Let me hear you."

"So much better. You feel so good, Stevie, so fucking good. Please don't stop."

At that point, you didn't care how whiny you sounded. Steve didn't seem to care either, shifting between your legs to wrap his lips around your clit again, matching his languid thrusts as he curled his fingers inside of you, building up the tension in your core, your pleas of "faster, please!" rising from your lips.

He obliged, looking at you with hooded eyes. You meet his gaze as you cry out, feeling your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing into you slowly, and then all at once. He keeps his fingers moving as you ride it out, breathing heavily, and running your hand over his messed up hair, much gentler this time.

"C'mere, baby." You called, voice a little weak from exhaustion. Steve leaned over and you met him halfway, supporting your upper body into your elbows, and kissed him. Deep and slow, savoring the taste of his tongue, still stained with your juices, making you dizzy with uncontained lust, and, quite frankly, an overwhelming feeling of possessiveness, as if you had just marked him as yours.

After spending years watching him pine over Nancy Wheeler, and throw himself into date after meaningless date, it felt only fair.

Not you'd ever admit this to him out loud.

Distracting him with your kisses, you manage to take control, flipping him over, and mounting him, straddling his hips. Steve doesn't stop missing you, however, bringing his hands to rest over your hips and guide you to grind your exposed pussy over the tent on his jeans. You could almost feel him pulsing under you, bringing a new jolt of pleasure through your body, making you run your nails over his chest.

Quickly undoing his belt, and his zipper, you bring his pants down, just enough to free him from his boxers, feeling his length warm and heavy in your hand. He pants under you, his eyes rolling back as you tease him with your fingers, lightly, before running your thumb over the delicious vein on the underside of him, all the way to his already weeping head.

Before you could do much else, you heard a hard knock on the door, followed by barely hushed giggles.

"Are you still alive in there? Do we need to call the police?"

"Go away, Buckley! Jesus."

Steve groaned at Robin's interruption, running his hands over his face, flushed with frustration. You release him from your hold, chuckling a little at his outburst. Leaving a kiss to his nose, driving his attention back to you, you ask "Your house isn't too far from here, right?"

"Yeah. Your point being…"

"I think we should take this party somewhere a little less crowded."

Humming deep inside his chest, Steve leans up, pecking you on the lips, "Now you're speaking my language."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 month

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [2.1K]

Jealousy, reassurance and Steve. Prompts: “why didn’t you tell me where you were?” And “I’m not being overdramatic.” Was this supposed to be a 500 word prompt? Yes, we don’t talk about it.

You hated it, you hated it, you hated it.

It was a gross feeling, an awful sensation that felt thick like tar, clinging to your chest, enough of it to make you ache and feel heavy. It crawled up your throat, making you feel too hot and by the time you’d spotted your boyfriend in the food court, standing talking to a pretty blonde girl, the lunch you’d brought him had went cold in your hand.

Anxiety? Perhaps not. Jealousy? You hated that that emotion seemed to sit better on your tongue, bitterly so.

And when Steve waited for you in his car later, the engine running and the heating on full so it was warm enough for you, jealousy still clung to you in an ugly way.

“Hey, babe,” Steve greeted as you slumped into the passenger seat. He was reading the back of a new cassette tape, absent minded as he scratched off the price sticker and leaned over to give you a kiss. He didn’t seem to notice - or mind - that you turned and gave him your cheek. “How was work?”

You hummed, non committal and fussed with your bag, pushing it down into the footwell. “Was fine,” you mumbled. “Yours?”

You wondered if this was when Steve admitted to rendezvousing with a girl in secret, if he’d try to deny it. The logical part of your brain told you that there was absolutely nothing secret about meeting someone in the middle of the busy food court on a Saturday afternoon, but the jealous bubble that had grown inside of you was having none of it. It grew and grew, a blue-green ball that took up all the cracks and crevices between your ribs until it felt like you’d burst from the pressure.

Steve was backing out of the parking space, his arm thrown around your headrest and he nodded, eyes on the rear window. “Yeah, yeah, it was alright. Got busy after lunch so it wasn’t too slow, y’know?”

“Right.” You nodded, suddenly finding breathing a weary task. Your throat was tight, your eyes hot. Lunch. “I, uh— I came to visit you on mine. My lunch.”

Steve blinked, chancing a quick glance at you now he was on the straight road back to Hawkins. He blinked in surprise. “You did? I hate that I missed you, babe, m’sorry.” His hand found your knee and squeezed. “I must’ve been in the back or something.”

You didn’t say anything. Not for a few minutes. Because Steve was your first real relationship you didn’t know the rules and you didn’t know what to say and you’d never, ever experienced the kind of fizzing, hot dread that was clawing at your throat—

“Did you go out at lunch?”

Steve turned to look at you once more, a fleeting glance with knitted brows and a small, if not unsure, smile on his face. You were being weird. Your voice was quieter than normal, soft and formal all at once and you hadn’t put your hand over his as it sat on your knee still.

“Yeah,” he told you, wondering why you asked. “I forgot mine at home, ran to the food court and grabbed some fries.” His thumb rubbed over you. “Must’ve been when I missed you, huh?”

“Mmm,” you hummed again, head ducked, fingers tangled in your lap. Steve was frowning. “Did you go back to the store? After?”

“What?” It was becoming harder to concentrate on the road. The street lights flickered to life as the evening set in and the orange-white glow of them made the wet in your eyes shine. Steve was alarmed, wondering why on earth you looked like you were close to tears. “Baby— after I got my fries? I mean, yeah?”

Steve would’ve almost missed the way your bottom lip trembled if he hadn’t slowed for the stop sign. “Honey? What? What’s going on?”

You broke then, watery eyes and lip tucked between your teeth as you tried not to let out the audible sob that was stuck in your throat. It was a silly thing, to feel such intense emotions, especially over a scenario you knew little about, but that heavy feeling had clawed at your chest all day and you felt smaller than you ever had, too hot and itchy to be in your own skin and something - somehow - had to get out—

“Baby,” Steve was more than alarmed now, wide eyed as he pulled over to the side of the road, the wheel turning dramatically in his hands as he killed the engine and unbuckled his belt. “Baby, what is it, huh? C’mon, talk to me—“

He was leaning over the console to you, brown eyes shining with concern as one big hand chased your wet cheek, pushing at you softly until you lifted your chin for him. Steve made a soft noise at the sight of you, glassy eyed and huffing as you tried to tamper down your shaky breaths.

“What’s wrong?”

“Why didn’t you tell me where you were?” It wasn’t what you had planned to say, but it was the only thing that made it past your lips in the moment.

The boy’s face crumbled in confusion, brows creased. “At lunch? I did…what?”

You sniffed, immediately feeling silly but you were too far gone, too deep in. You swiped hastily as your cheeks, too meanly for Steve’s liking and he chased your fingers with much kinder ones.

“You said you went back to the store,” your breath hitched, a shuddering thing as you pulled in a gasp of air. God, this was so silly, this was so stupid. Your body burned. “After your lunch— you said you went back.”

Steve looked at you a little plainly, the little gears that most men had in their heads whirring into overdrive. He looked confused, grasping at your words and trying to decipher what they meant. “Yeah?” He tried weakly.

“But I saw you,” another hiccup, another fresh tear that you managed to catch before Steve did and the boy frowned deeper when you pulled your face away from his touch. “I saw you in the food court, you were talking to a girl.”

You were very aware of how childish the sentence was as it left your lips. But you were tired, defeated. You’d held onto the jealousy and fear and anxiety all day and now that it was out, you were exhausted, shoulders slumping and mouth twisted into a pout that Steve really wanted to be able to kiss away.

But recognition settled over him at your words and his lips fell into a small ‘o’ of understanding. He tried not to smile, he really did, knowing how much it would upset you further, so he pressed his lips together and nodded before speaking.

“You saw me with Tammy Thomson.” It wasn’t a question.

You sniffed and shrugged, suddenly playing indifference now you knew the blondes name.

“Baby,” Steve tried again, bringing his hand back up to sweep along your jaw, his thumb pushing gently against your cheek. It was a fond touch, dripping in affection and you so wanted to lean into it. “She was an old school friend.”

You scoffed. You might have not went to Hawkins High like Steve had, but you’d had enough conversations with Robin and Eddie to know the list of people that had crushed hard on Steve. Tammy Thomson’s name had come up on serval occasions.

“You weren’t going to tell me you ran into her?” You mumbled, staring at your skirt.

Steve floundered for a second, lips moving without sound as he tried to find the right words before settling on the honest to gods truth. “I actually kinda forgot.” He shrugged, apologetic. “I wasn’t thinking about it. It, uh, it wasn’t an important part of my day, y’know?”

Embarrassment washed over you in a hot, sticky curtain, leaving you just as teary as before. You hated what you were insinuating with your words, what you were accidentally accusing Steve of. He wasn’t trying to hide anything from you, despite what your brain had told you all day. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“God— urgh,” your eyes watered again but you squeezed the heel of each palm to them before the tears could fall. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “I, I’m sorry. Can you take me home? Please.”

The car drop sat at the side of the road, the inside cooler now the engine wasn’t running and you hated the idea of someone you knew driving by and seeing your tear stricken face - or worse, thinking that at this was the spot you’d chosen to make out with your boyfriend.

Although, you’d much prefer that right now.

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s voice was achingly soft and closer than before as he moved in. His hands found your wrists and gently pulled them away from your face, easing the pressure you’d put on your poor, swollen eyes. “C’mon now, talk to me? Please?”

You blinked as the world and the boy came back into view, lip still trembling and you felt too soft, too delicate, way too vulnerable. Steve’s gaze was just as gentle though, kinder than you thought you deserved.

“I shouldn’t have—“

Accused? Spied? You weren’t sure what you were going to say but Steve interrupted you regardless. “Wanna know what I was thinking about?” His thumbs stroked over the soft skin on the inside of your wrists as he held them between you both. He didn’t wait for an answer. “You.”

You could’ve cried again if Steve had let you, but he seemed to sense the stuttering of your chest and he smiled, a little teasing, a lot loving. “You, fries - of course, how much I hate my boss, where I wanted to take you out for dinner tomorrow, how I heard about this new movie I thought you’d like.”

Adoration filled the cavernous space your jealousy had once been.

“I think about you a lot,” Steve told you, grimacing playfully like it was something shameful and secretive. It made you smile, head falling forward to rest against your joined hands. “It’s sick, actually, right?”

You nodded, face still hidden and joining in on the joke because you didn’t know what else to do or say. Not in the car at least. Maybe, you thought, when you got back home you’d invite the boy in and cover him in kisses. Apologetic ones, loving ones, doting ones, from head to toe if you had to.

“You okay?” He asked, more serious now. “Can you look at me?”

How could say no?

You lifted your head and Steve tutted, lips pressed thin as he took in your puffy eyes and tear streaked cheeks. He used your hands in his to wipe away the damp tracks, so much softer than you’d done before, making you treat yourself with so much more care and kindness.

He raised his brows, waiting on an answer.

“I’m okay,” your voice was raspy from emotion and you coughed, embarrassed. “Steve, I’m sorry.”

Steve shook his head shrugging. “It’s okay. Just— just talk to me next time, yeah? Don’f tiptoe around what’s making you sad, babe. I wanna be able to fix it for you.”

You nodded, still aching with all the emotion, both good and bad. The self conscious side of you couldn’t help but ask, “do you think I was being overdramatic?”

Steve’s lip quirked up, something he managed to tame quickly. He frowned, leaning in to press a kiss at your hot cheek. “You?” He murmured into your skin, nose pressed to the soft skin by your mouth. “Overdramatic? My crybaby? Since when?”

There was laughter laced in his words, a light teasing you’d taken months to get used to but you recognised it for what it was. Fondness, familiarity, a way to break the heavy tension and make you smile.

So you did, lips lifting and brows crinkling all at the same time. “I’m not being overdramatic!” You watched Steve grin as he started the car again, looking both ways before pulling back into the lane. “I thought— I thought you were—”

“What?” Steve glanced at you, grinning. He caught your hand and lifted it to his lips, stamping a kiss on the back of it and held it on your lap, not letting go. “You thought I was gonna get my fries and runaway with Tammy Thomson? Never to return?”

You didn’t say anything, you just say back in the chair and tried not to pout, because, yeah, that’s exactly what you thought. You just hated how stupid it sounded coming from someone’s mouth and not your own head.

“And leave you?” Steve tutted, head shaking as he kept up the playful tone. There was a lot of love on his eyes when he looked over at you. “Baby, c’mon now.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot

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munsonsmixtapes · 2 days

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Teach Me

Part One

Part Two: Lesson One

Steve x bi!fem!reader

word count: 6,091

CW: mention of reader and Steve’s rough home lives

summary: you and Steve go on your “first date” and you both definitely don’t want it to be real

You stood in your closet, looking for something to wear on your date with Steve. Eddie had insisted on helping you which actually meant lying on your bed, reading one of your fashion magazines. He occasionally gave his input, barely even giving you a second glance, favoring the magazine over your outfit crisis.

You were nervous even though you didn’t want to admit it. Thinking about going on a date with Steve made you feel ill. Even though he had told you that it was low stakes, you still felt like there was a lot of riding on it. It was your first date and it had to be perfect.

“Do you think I’m a summer or an autumn?” Eddie asked as he flipped through the pages of the magazine. You turned around to face him, still in your underwear, putting your hands on your hips.

“Neither, you’re a winter,” you replied. “Now either you help me or go home.”

“Jesus, l/n, it’s just Harrington.” Eddie rose from the bed, throwing the magazine to the side. He went to stand in front of you, resting his hands on your shoulders. “You really need to relax.”

“We both know that I’m unable to do that.”

“Let’s take some deep breaths, alright?” He took a deep breath in and you mimicked him.

“Now let it out.” You breathed out slowly and Eddie smiled, satisfied with the results. You did feel a bit better, but not much.

“Okay,” he clapped his hands together then turned to your closet. “Let me see what we’ve got going on.” He went through the rack that your clothes were on, shaking his head at each item. He got close to the end and pulled out a dark blue dress that you had completely forgotten that you had. Leave it to Eddie to find the exact right outfit for you. He always seemed to have the magic touch.

“Where the fuck did that come from?” You gasped, taking the thing from him.

“I think Robin got it for you for your birthday or something.”

“That’s right,” you nodded at the memory, suddenly remembering pulling it out of the pink gift bag it had been in only to throw it in your closet, deciding that you had nowhere to wear it.

You threw the dress on and stepped back so Eddie could see you. He gave a nod of approval as you pulled the bottom down so it would cover more of your legs.

You had never done this before. You hadn’t hung out with anyone outside of a sexual encounter. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to, but more like no one had invited you to do so when you were a child. So when people actually expressed interest in you emotionally, you didn’t think it was genuine.

You weren’t popular as a kid. An outcast because your parents didn’t have much money. So while the other girls in your grade were over at Cindy Gardener’s house, you were home by yourself while your parents were at work. You had seen the invitations go out and were excited to actually go somewhere besides your home, only to find that you were the only girl in the class who hadn’t received an envelope.

They all thought you were too poor because you lived in the trailer park. They all laughed at you for bringing your lunch in a paper bag as opposed to the metal lunch boxes that displayed the cartoon characters of the shows you all watched.

They laughed at your cheap clothes and how unbrushed your hair was. Your parents were never around so you were forced to do your own hair and get yourself dressed in the only clothes they could afford.

Perhaps that was why you were so afraid to get close to people. Because you were always the butt of everyone’s joke so you thought that anyone trying to get close to you was just their way of making fun of you. Eddie was the only one you could trust since he had actually shown you how much he had cared for you.

“Damn,” Eddie let out a whistle as his eyes trailed down your body. “I hope Harrington knows how to fight.” You let out a laugh at that.

“Oh, shut up.” You smacked him on the shoulder and he just laughed.

“Seriously, sweetheart. You look fucking amazing.” It wasn’t unusual for Eddie to compliment you, but the way he was looking at you made you think that he wanted to take the dress off and have his way with you.

“Stop,” you whined and he just smiled. Even after all these years, you were still unsure of how to take a compliment.

“Don’t believe me? See for yourself, babe,” he rested his hands on your shoulders and pushed you over to your full length mirror. You looked at your reflection and had to admit that you did look hot. The dress clung to your body in all the right places and it showed just the right amount of cleavage. You were going to have to thank Robin the next time you saw her.

“I look-“ you cut yourself off, trying to find the right words.

“Hot,” Eddie finished. “Fucking hot.”

“Thanks, Eds.”

“You deserve this, y/n.” His hands moved down to your forearms, giving them a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“I know,” you nodded.

“You deserve someone who’s nice to you,” he gave your shoulders a shake so the words would actually sink in this time.

“I know, Eddie.” He had said those exact words to you so many times but you somehow believed it that time.

“Good,” he nodded. “And if he hurts you, you just let me know and I’ll kick his ass.” You laughed again, imagining Eddie kicking anyone’s ass.

“Noted.”

“Alright, now get out of here. I’ve got Callie, okay? Let me know if I need to stay the night,” he winked and you pretended to throw up.

He had insisted on watching her for the night, assuring you that she would get fed dinner and go to bed a decent hour. You both knew that the promise of a normal bedtime was a load of shit. Callie had Eddie wrapped around her little finger and he would have let her stay up all night if she had asked.

“This isn’t a real date.”

“But it could be.”

“Thanks, Eddie,” you pulled him into a hug before pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Of course. Now go get him,” he handed you your purse then gave your ass a light tap. You threw on your shoes and headed out the door to your car.

You pulled up to the address that Steve had given to you over the phone and could see why he had suggested that you have your date there. It was one of the nicest houses you had ever seen and you wondered what Steve’s parents had done for a living.

You reluctantly got out of the car and headed to the door. You knocked a few times and it took no time for it to swing open, Steve on the other side. His mouth dropped open, but his lips quickly turned up into a wide smile.

“Wow, you-“ he cut himself off, clearing his throat. “You look amazing.” You eyed his outfit which consisted of a red button up shirt that was tucked into a pair of black slacks.

“Thanks,” you smiled. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Harrington.”

He let you inside and you looked around and wondered what it would have been like to live in a place that big. You could have fit your entire trailer inside it.

The house was quiet as opposed to yours. It was nice to be somewhere you could actually think. Somewhere you didn’t have to tiptoe around just to get from place to place because you were afraid of being pulled into an argument to take sides.

Steve couldn’t believe it. The hottest girl in Hawkins was going to spend her Saturday night with him when she could have been doing literally anything else. He was going to take that as a compliment, the whole thing giving his ego a much needed boost.

You had wanted to leave as soon as Steve let you in, but you felt bad thinking about disappointing him. He had spent so much time making you dinner so you weren’t going to ruin his night by going home. Besides, Eddie was your babysitter for the night and who were you to not take advantage of that?

“Can I get you a drink? I’ve got soda and some beer in the fridge.” You almost asked for a beer so help settle your nerves but decided against it. You don’t know Steve well enough to drink around him, afraid that you’d reveal your secrets after too many drinks. You didn’t need to embarrass yourself around him.

“Sure, I’ll take a soda.” Steve led you into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator that didn’t seem to be as stocked as you thought it would have been. All that had been in there was a pizza, some vegetables in the crisper, a six pack of beer and two six packs of grape and orange sodas.

“Orange or grape?” Neither flavor sounded appealing to you but you felt rude for suddenly deciding you didn’t want a drink.

“Grape.” He pulled one of the sodas from the plastic holding them together and held it out to you. You took it, your fingers brushing as you did so. Just from the short touch, you could tell that his hands were soft and warm.

You opened the can and took a sip while Steve led you to the kitchen table. It was set with two glass plates with a cloth napkin aside each one with the silverware on each side of the plate.

There was also a candle in the middle of the table that was lit. It was a simple setup, but you liked that Steve had done it all for you. Even though everything was fake, you still appreciated the effort he had put in for you.

“So, I’ve split the whole thing up into multiple parts and tonight, we’re focusing on conversation.”

He held out your chair for you and took a seat while he moved to the counter to grab two bowls. One was filled with spaghetti and the other was filled with a salad. He set them on the table then sat down across from you.

“Conversation?” You tilted your head to the side and Steve thought it was adorable.

He handed over a pair of tongs and you served yourself. You hadn’t had a home cooked meal ever. All of your meals consisted of either toast or tv dinners since you didn’t really have the extra money or time to make them from scratch.

“Yep,” he nodded. “Just talking. That’s arguably the most important part.”

“Right,” you nodded. You supposed he was right. The conversation did seem to be a big part of every date you’d seen at the diner or on TV. But you sucked a small talk. Hated it, even. Most of it just ended up being people having a conversation that seemed forced that nobody participating actually gave a fuck about what was being said.

You took a bite of the spaghetti and couldn’t help but think that it was the best thing you had ever eaten. Not that you had much to compare it to. You held back a moan how good it was, trying your best to eat in silence.

You could see that Steve was looking at you and you turned to him, giving him a smile which he returned. You liked that someone was being nice to you just because they wanted to and not for anything in return.

You turned away, not wanting him to see the pink tint on your cheeks. You couldn’t let him know what you were thinking about. You had to keep your cool and seem nonchalant.

“This is really good.”

“Thank you. It’s uh, it’s my mom’s recipe.” Steve couldn’t remember the last time he had spaghetti since his mother didn’t seem to want to cook for him anymore. Now his meals consisted of pizza or food from the diner.

“That’s nice. You’ll have to thank her for me.” He’d thank her…if she was ever around. She was usually out doing god knows what. It wasn’t like Steve cared anyway. As long as she wasn’t home, he was happy. That way he wouldn’t have to listen to her or his father tell him that he was wasting his life away working at Family Video when he could be working with them. That was the thing. Steve didn’t want to work with them. He was perfectly fine where he was in his life and he wasn’t going to let anyone, not even his parents, take that away from him.

“Thanks,” you nodded. “So, uh, how do we do this?” What-oh right, this wasn’t a real date. He was just helping you and had completely forgotten until you had brought it up.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, shuffling in his seat. “I know it sounds like common sense, but just be yourself. Don’t overcomplicate it.”

“Right,” you nodded, taking a sip from your soda. “What do I do if it sucks?” That was the main question that had been on your mind the entire night.

“Well, first of all, I should let you know that most of them are going to suck.” That was not what you had wanted to hear. That was actually a deterrent to wanting to date anyone. “But you just roll with it,” he shrugged. “It’s just one night and you’ll get through it.”

“Most of them are going to suck?” Your eyebrows furrowed and Steve could see the gears turning in your head. This was the one night where he didn’t want you to worry.

“Yep,” he took a sip from his can. “But only like half of the time.”

“Oh,” you nodded, becoming even more confused as to why Steve had gone on so many dates if they were as bad as he was letting on.

“And now you’re scared, aren’t you?” He let out a chuckle and went to reach for your hand, but pulled it away once he realized what he was doing. Little did he know that you had actually wanted him to touch you. You were itching to hold his hand seeing it resting on the table.

“What?” You scoffed. “No.” Yes, yes you were. Terrified, actually.

“You don’t have to be. Sometimes dates are just bad. It’s how it is.”

“But you’ve been on what, a thousand dates? It always seems so easy for you, bad or not.” It wasn’t easy now. He was sweating bullets because he was so nervous. He decided that if you asked, he would lie and say he was just warm. He’d have been so embarrassed if you found out that you were making him nervous.

“Not always,” he leaned closer to you, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Sure.”

“I’m always nervous.” You didn’t think that “Steve” and “nervous” belonged in the same sentence. He was always so cool and confident. Except when he was around you, of course.

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.” You pushed your food around your plate before taking another bite.

“I’m being honest, I swear,” he put his hands up in defense.

“Fine,” you grumbled. “I guess I believe you.”

He chuckled at that and the both of you went back to eating in silence, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of your forks clinking against your plates.

You looked up at him as you ate and gave him a warm smile when his eyes locked on yours. He smiled back, the light from the kitchen making his eyes look like honey. You had always thought they were pretty, but seeing them in the light really solidified it for you. They were even prettier than Eddie’s, which you didn’t think was possible.

Your eyes roamed over his features and stopped once they got to his moles. Those were probably your favorite features of his. You always liked those kinds of things on people, liking that it made them unique. Your cheeks got hot as you found yourself wanting to press a kiss to each one, telling him how pretty you thought they were.

You had never thought about Steve in that manner. He had been deemed off limits, but seeing him sitting there, looking so fucking pretty, your mind was wondering what exactly it would have been like to sleep with him. If he would’ve been gentle or if he would have fucked you so roughly that you wouldn’t have been able to walk afterwards.

“Do you want to do a practice run?” He asked, wiping his face with his napkin. You desperately needed a distraction from your thoughts.

“Uh, sure,” you nodded, unsure of what he could have possibly wanted to know about you. You thought you were pretty boring in comparison to his other dates.

“I’m just gonna ask you some basic questions. Pretend like I know nothing about you, alright?”

“So, do you have any siblings?” That question seemed easy enough. Maybe it wouldn’t have been as difficult as you thought.

“I have a little sister named Callie.”

“That’s cool,” he nodded “How old is she?”

“Seven. What about you? Any siblings.” You already knew that Steve didn’t have any, but you just wanted to commit to your role.

“Nope,” he shook his head. “Only child, unfortunately.”

“Do you ever get lonely?” You knew the question seemed invasive, but it was falling from your lips before you could stop it.

“Sometimes, yeah,” he admitted. “But I have friends to help with that.” You knew he mostly meant Robin. The two of them seemed to be very close. Like platonic soulmates.

“Right,” you nodded. “What are your parents like?”

“Oh, um.” Well, that wasn’t the right question. You had barely even had a conversation and you had already fucked it up.

“Sorry,” you winced. “Was that too personal?”

“No, no,” he assured you. “I just-they’re never around.”

“Well, that’s something we have in common. Mine are never around either.”

You and Steve seemed to have more in common than you had originally thought. Being from opposite sides of town and his family having more money than you’d ever see in your life, you didn’t think that you’d have anything to bond over. His family always seemed so perfect when you had heard people talk about them, but clearly that had all been an act.

Steve appreciated that you felt like you could be honest with him, especially about something so personal. He didn’t think he’d ever find out anything about you since you seemed to be so private. Clearly you had a lot of trauma so he didn’t blame you at all for keeping your life a secret.

Steve however, had been an open book. You could have asked him anything and he would have told you. That is, except his crush on you. That he kept a secret to prevent himself from being humiliated. As far as he was concerned, he would take that shit to the grave.

“Are you and Callie close?” He wanted to avoid talking any more about your parents and settled for a safe topic.

“Very,” you nodded and Steve just smiled. He liked seeing your face light up when you talked about your sister.

“I can tell you really love her.” You loved Callie more than anyone in the world and you didn’t think that would ever change.

“I really do. She’s my best friend.” And you were hers. She has told you so every night in a sleepy whisper. It warmed your heart every time to hear the words coming from her little voice.

“Is she anything like you?” Callie was just like you as far as personality went. You had raised her to take no shit from anyone and that the only opinion about her that mattered was her own.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Harrington?” You quirked an eyebrow.

“I mean, is she as feisty as you?” She definitely was. Maybe even more so.

“Once you get to know her, but at first, she’s usually super shy.” Her shyness typically seemed like a test to see if she could trust people and then when she decided that they were good enough, she’d show her true self.

“Well, I’d love to meet her.” You knew that the two of them would get along very well.

“And she’d love to meet you.” Steve would have probably ended up more wrapped around her finger than Eddie was. You could see him coloring with her on the floor of the trailer, showing him her different techniques. You could see them watching her favorite movie together on the couch, him laughing when she would quote the lines word for word. You could even see getting close to him effortlessly, whispering stuff into his ear that would be their little secret.

Steve liked hearing those words. That your sister would have liked him. He liked kids, loved them even. Especially since most of the people he usually hung out with had once been kids that he was just trying to take care of. To protect.

“So you’re saying I’m worthy of meeting your family?” He winked and you let out a nervous laugh. As long as you had anything to say about it, Steve would have never met your parents. They were just two fucked up people who refused to make any changes in their life just because they had cost a little more than they were willing to spend. You knew that they had some money hiding somewhere. Money that they had claimed had been for your college tuition that you had seen a single dime of. Money you had tried to claim to actually use for college but they suddenly acted like they had no idea what you were talking about.

“Just my sister,” you responded. “My parents don’t exactly make a good impression.” You could still remember when they met Eddie. How judgemental they had been. How they claimed that he wasn’t good enough to hang out with you. What did they know? It wasn’t like they actually knew you well enough to make that decision.

“Mine don’t either,” he shook his head. “For once, my parents came home while I had a date over and my mother was recommending places where she could get the gap in her front teeth fixed.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yes,” Steve nodded vigorously. “I thought it was really cute and had even told her as much but she left before I could reassure her.”

“Steve, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. So sometimes, it might not even be your fault if the date is bad,” he let out a chuckle, but you could see in his face that he didn’t actually think it was funny.

You felt bad for the guy. You knew he was just looking for “the one” but it never seemed to work out. You wondered if he thought he was destined to be lonely just like you were. If he ever blamed himself for things when they went wrong even when they weren’t his fault.

You wondered how he was still able to put himself out there despite all of his failed dates. Where he got his confidence from and how he didn’t just cancel all the time because he was afraid of things going south. That was what you would have done. And maybe that was the real difference between you and Steve. He did things despite being afraid while you stood by and watched because you’d rather keep your dignity intact than ever risk embarrassing yourself.

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Hey, relax. You’re doing really well,” he assured you and you hoped that he was telling the truth and not just trying to spare your feelings.

“I am?” Steve had never seen you so unsure before. You usually took things for what they were, not even sparing a second to ask questions. He was beginning to think that maybe that was all just an act and that the woman sitting in front of him was the “real” you. Not the version of yourself you had to put on everyday just to seem normal.

“Yeah,” he replied, taking another bite of his spaghetti. “You’re a natural.”

“So are you.”

“Well I should be with how much practice I’ve had.” You both laughed at that and continued to eat and make small talk until your plates were empty. You knew the night was drawing to a close and you didn’t want it to end. It was as if you were Cinderella and as soon as the clock struck twelve, you’d no longer be in the little fantasy Steve had made up for you. You’d have to remove your dress and go back to your real life where there seemed to be no happily afters.

The night hadn’t even been over yet and Steve was already looking forward to the next lesson. He wanted to see more of you like this, you’re true self. He liked that you didn’t seem to have your guard up. You seemed less tense and the tension between your eyebrows seemed to disappear. Your shoulders hadn’t been up to your ears, in fact, they had been pushed back as you sat across from him.

You were so fucking beautiful and seeing you sitting there in your gorgeous dress was damn near torture. The blue looked so nice against your skin and it was killing him that he couldn’t see how you felt against his hands. That he couldn’t press his lips to yours, the pretty red color smearing against his own and across his cheeks in how messy the kiss got. He wanted to see lipstick stains all along his body, but he couldn’t get himself to make a move. This was all fake, after all. As if you’d actually go on a real date with Steve Harrington.

Steve led you to the front door and it felt disorienting for him to not take you up to his room. You knew that his other dates ended that way, but this was different. He was just helping you out. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

So why did you want him to take you by the hand and lead you to his bedroom? Why did you want to feel his soft hands against your thighs, sliding up your dress? Why did you want to know exactly what his lips felt like? If they were as soft as they looked. If he was as good of a kisser the girls in town said he was.

You felt yourself getting wet just thinking about it and for once, you weren’t going to do anything about it. At least not with Steve. You couldn’t risk ruining your friendship because you couldn’t keep your hormones in check. You’d never forgive yourself if you pushed him away because you couldn’t control yourself.

“This was really nice,” you told him as you both stood at the door, neither of you making a move to open it.

“See, I told you there was nothing to worry about,” he nudged your shoulder.

“I know. I was just worrying for nothing.” Steve watched you rifle through your purse, clearly looking for something.

You pulled out a small black tube and moved over to the mirror that was by the door. You opened the thing and Steve could see a little bit of red peeking out from the top, realizing that it was lipstick. He stood behind you, watching you twist it up so you had more access to the product. You opened your mouth slightly and applied the color to your lips slowly. Steve watched you in amazement. It was as if you had hypnotized the man. He was standing there, unmoving, his mouth slightly agape.

You weren’t even doing it on purpose. This was a move you had perfected to get people into bed and it had a hundred percent success rate. This time, you just wanted to touch up the color since most of it had rubbed off while you were eating. Why you were doing it when you were about to leave, you didn’t know. Maybe you were trying to give Steve one last chance to make a move.

His hand rested on your shoulder and you had to look down so he couldn’t see your triumphant smile in the reflection. You guessed Steve wasn’t as strong as he looked. You looked at him as his other hand moved to your face. His thumb rubbed at the corner of your bottom lip where the color had bled onto your skin only for it to smudge.

“Whoops,” he chuckled, looking down at his now stained thumb. “I didn’t mean to smudge it.”

“It’s okay.” I wanted you to smudge it, was what you wanted to say. But you didn’t. “It doesn’t take much to do that.”

“Right,” he chuckled again. You didn’t miss how his gaze hadn’t left your lips. He had wanted it as much as you did. So the trick worked. Steve wasn’t immune like you thought he had been.

And just when you had him right where you wanted him, he opened the door for you. Despite your confusion, you stepped through it, Steve closing it behind him so the two of you were standing on the front step. There was so little space that you were practically chest to chest.

He slowly leaned towards you, trying to gauge your reaction for any signs that you didn’t want him to continue. You wanted it. You wanted it so bad, but you couldn’t let him do it. You just knew that if you kissed him, you wouldn’t want to stop. And you couldn’t have that. You were in control. You called the shots. And you weren’t going to get Steve fucking Harrington have that effect on you.

Just as his lips were about to meet yours, you turned your face so they landed on your cheek instead. He quickly pulled away and you slowly turned your head to look at him. His eyes widened and his lips parted, like he couldn’t believe what he had done. He looked like he was about to speak and you just couldn’t listen to what he had to say.

“Goodnight, Steve. Thanks again for tonight.”

You rushed down the steps as he called your name and almost tripped on the concrete of his driveway because of how fast your were moving. You pulled your keys out of your purse and couldn’t seem to unlock your car quick enough. You opened the door and made the mistake of looking at Steve one last time. He was still standing there, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he watched you get into the car.

You slammed the door shut and practically floored it all the back to your trailer. You were never going to be able to look Steve in the eye again. You were going to have to quit Family Video. You were going to have to stop hanging out with Robin.

You had wanted to kiss Steve so you had no idea why you had turned your head at the last second. And now you had hurt him just because you had been afraid of what it could have led to if you had given in. You had gotten scared because you hadn’t been in control of your feelings for once.

You pulled up to your trailer and raced inside, closing the door, leaning against it. Eddie was on the couch alone which led you to believe that he had actually made her go to bed at a decent time, which was rare. He turned to you and his eyebrows furrowed at your distressed state.

“What happened?” He clicked off the TV and gave you his full attention, hoping that he wasn’t actually going to have to kick Steve’s ass. If that man has laid a non-consensual finger on you, he’d be fucking dead.

“He tried to kiss me, Eddie.”

“I’ll kill him,” he stood up from the couch, cracking his knuckles.

“No,” you moved towards him. “I wanted him too.”

“Oh,” he scoffed, sitting back down on the couch. “Then what’s the big deal?”

“This big deal is that he tried to kiss me, Eddie.” You sat down next to him, burying your face into your hands.

“Damn, one date and you’re already falling for him?” He laughed. “He’s good.”

“This is serious.”

“Is it, though?” He stood up from the couch and headed over to the fridge and pulled out the box of wine. He figured you were going to need some.

“Yes.” You turned to look at him as he rifled through the cabinets for two wine glasses.

“Because it kind of seems like you just don’t want to fall for him.” You hated that he was always able to read you like a book. He was the one person who could see right through you.

“I don’t,” you crossed your arms over your chest and he whipped around to look at you. You had finally admitted it after months of denying feelings for Steve.

“Ah-ha!” He pointed at you. “So you admit it.”

“I admit nothing.” You wouldn’t have been caught dead admitting that you liked anyone in a romantic sense. That was for losers and you were most definitely not a loser.

“That’s because you’re a coward.” He handed you a glass of wine and you took a few sips before setting it down on the coffee table.

Maybe you were a coward, but you were going to wear that label proudly if it meant you didn’t have to admit that you were crushing on Steve. There was no way you’d ever tell anyone that. Not even yourself. To you, love was still bullshit. You’d seen your parents, you’d seen your grandparents. Apparently happily ever after just didn’t exist in your family and that was just how it was.

Eddie had seen every single one of your hookups fail except for him. He wondered what would have happened if he had feelings for you. If you would have kicked him to the curb if he had told how he felt. If that was the only reason you kept him around.

“Well, if the shoe fits,” you leaned back against the couch, propping your feet up onto the coffee table.

“You made a deal with him, y/n. You can’t just avoid him because you’re afraid.”

“Of course I can.” You took another sip of your wine, not liking how little effect it was having on you. You were usually buzzed by that point.

“Then that means you’re no better than me,” he tsked, shaking his head.

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed. “You’re the biggest coward of them all, Eddie.” If you looked up the definition in the dictionary, his name would be right there.

“Sure, but I’d never deny my feelings because I was afraid of being vulnerable. Oh, that’s right, you don’t have feelings.”

“Damn straight.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, babe,” he gave your knee a pat. “Well, you have fun being in denial, I’m gonna go to bed.”

“So we’re not hooking up tonight?” You asked as you watched him stand from the couch and made his way over to the door.

“As if I’d fuck a taken woman,” he gasped, putting his hand up to his chest. “Even I’m better than that, y/n.”

“Eddie,” you groaned, trying to get to him but he closed the door before you could catch him.

You leaned against it, running your hands through your hair. Your life had somehow gotten worse after letting Steve in. You went on a really nice date with him and ended up hurting his feelings because you wouldn’t kiss him. Now you couldn’t stand to look at him again and your best friend was laughing at you while you were in pain. There was no way it could have possibly have gotten any fucking worse.

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