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#steve harrington angst
littlexdeaths · 2 days
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strange love - s.h.
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king steve harrington x loser fem reader
everybody wants to know, if we fucked on the bathroom sink…
18+ ONLY MDNI
warnings: underage drinking (everyone is 18+), mean!dom steve, steve is a major asshole, public sex, light degradation kink, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, steve makes reader cry, some good ole’ angst
a/n: this is a reworking of my first steeb fic i ever wrote on my old account. i hope you enjoy xx. and thank you to @stveharringtn for looking this over and hyping me up. ily cherry 💕
based on strange love by halsey
word count: 2.4k
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You shouldn’t have come to this stupid party.
And you wouldn’t have, if Steve hadn’t practically begged you to make an appearance. It was only going to lead to more heartbreak for you, having to watch him flirt with every girl in the room. The night would end with you going home alone, wondering why you weren’t good enough to be on his arm.
Despite all that you go anyway, your heart severely outweighing the logical side of your brain. You even made sure to wear your best dress, hoping it would capture his attention. But the male didn’t glance your way the entire night, and you felt utterly defeated.
Why you didn’t leave after an hour of being ignored is beyond you, a small part of you still holding out hope. Leaning against a wall in the hallway you watch with disdain as your classmates drunkenly grind on each other. It was one of the last parties of the summer before college classes started, and everyone seemed to be making the most of it.
Everyone except for you.
“This was a stupid idea,” you mumble to yourself, glancing down at your drink with a deep sigh. Swirling the now lukewarm beer around in your cup, no longer interested in people watching. Drunken laughter pulls you from your sulking, watching in utter annoyance as Tommy attempts a keg stand in the middle of the living room.
A large crowd has surrounded him, giving you the perfect opportunity to find Jonathan and leave.
However, feeling a piece of paper being slipped into your hand stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes searching for the source of the note. A familiar flutter starts in your lower belly as you catch sight of him, the male now halfway up the stairs. You quickly unravel the crumpled page to find a few words written in his messy script.
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You immediately crumple the note in your palm, downing the rest of your beer before you make your way up to the second floor. Despite the large and somewhat confusing layout, you navigated the dark halls with ease. As you knew the male's house far too well now, having found yourself in his bed more times than you liked to admit.
This wasn’t supposed to happen like this, it was only meant to be a one time thing. To get back at your cheating asshole of an ex-boyfriend, Troy. After finding him tangled in the sheets with Vicki Carmichael at a party quite similar to this one. All because you weren’t ready to have sex with him. As much as it stung, a bigger part of you was incredibly relieved.
Something never fully cliqued with him, and deep down you didn’t want him to be your first. Troy and Steve were very good friends, and played basketball together. So it seemed fitting to ask Steve to be the one to take your virginity. Telling yourself it would royally piss Troy off, knowing you’d give it up to Steve and not him. But the truth is you’d always secretly had a thing for Steve for years.
That was your real reason, not that you’d ever admit it.
Steve was more than happy to fulfill your wish, not knowing your motive behind it. But what neither of you expected was that he would keep coming back for more. Once he had a taste of you, he couldn’t get enough. You had him wrapped around your finger, without even realizing it. However you both made a promise to keep the whole thing a secret, any plans of revenge now being thrown out the window.
Now that you weren’t dating Troy you had gone back to your quiet loser status, which you much preferred anyway. But Steve couldn’t have that ruining his reputation, so instead of arguing you went along with it. Agreeing to a secret friend with benefits relationship, despite knowing you’d want more. Feelings aside it didn’t stop you from hooking up with him multiple times a week, which brings you back to the present.
Your breathing was labored, partially due to the hand covering your mouth. You could hear the bass of the music from outside the bathroom door, so there was no need to be extra quiet.
But with Steve it was a necessity… especially in such a public place. Where anyone could press their ear to the door and figure out what was happening.
You found yourself bent over the bathroom sink, Steve fucking into you with such a ferocity it made your knees wobble. He had barely let the bathroom door shut before he was on you, tugging your panties down your legs. Tugging his shirt over his head, not bothering to take off his jeans in his impatience to have you.
“God you’re such a little tease you know that? Wearing this fucking dress, getting me all worked up.” He growled in your ear, whimpering against his hand as he pounds into your soaked heat.
The male is gripping your hip so hard you know he’ll leave bruises behind, but the harsh action only turns you on more. Knowing how desperate he was to have you, made you putty in his strong hands. Your own hand drifts between your thighs, finding your bundle of nerves and encircling it with your fingertips.
Glancing into the mirror in front of you, you watch his face as he continues to ram himself inside you. His honey brown hair sticks to his forehead, no longer styled in the perfect swoop he had it in before you entered the bathroom. His dark eyes meet yours in the reflection, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he watches you intensely.
“Hm, look at how pathetic you look honey… letting me use you like a whore.” He grunts, leaning in closer and tugging on your earlobe with his teeth, “But you like that don’t you? You like being my whore?”
You find yourself nodding, unable to speak. Partially due to the hand still covering your mouth, but you knew even if it wasn't there it wouldn’t have made much difference. The male had fucked any logical thoughts from you at that point.
But you can’t deny the way your body reacts to his words, your walls tightening around him at the mere mention of belonging to him… and him alone. Something Steve doesn’t miss either.
“That’s cute baby…” he chuckles, letting his lips graze along the exposed skin of your throat. “Glad she knows exactly who she belongs to.”
Tears of pleasure blur your vision, mascara streaming freely down your cheeks. Your fucked out reflection stares back at you as he continues to pound into you from behind. Hooded eyes drift to gaze at him once more, seeing how his mouth falls open in a moan as you continue to pulse around his cock.
His sun kissed skin was beautifully flushed, his days spent as a lifeguard at Hawkin’s community pool were treating him extremely well. It made you want nothing more than to leave a trail of dark bruises along his freckled neck— effectively marking him as yours.
But you knew that couldn’t happen, he wouldn’t allow it. His reputation as the town’s local biggest player was far more important to him than you could ever be. At least that’s what he wanted you to believe.
You watch in awe as his head tilts back, exposing more of his throat to you. His adam’s apple bobs as he moans, fighting the urge to push him against the wall and taste the sweat that’s coating his skin in a glossy sheen.
Steve just looked so pretty like this, on the edge of release. While you had witnessed it many times now— part of you still was so mesmerized by him.
You can feel your orgasm bubbling up inside you, continuing to rub your clit faster. You cry out against his hand, the whimper of his name now muffled by his palm. Your eyes nearly roll back as your orgasm crashes over you. But Steve doesn’t let up his pace, your knees almost buckling as he fucks into you harder.
“I know you can cum harder than that honey, do. it. again.” He growls lowly in your ear, dropping his hand away from your mouth.
Quickly knocking your own out of the way to continue rubbing your overly sensitive clit. You’d barely come down from your first high before he had you hurtling towards another one, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with acute precision.
Your eyes meet once more in the reflection, a cocky expression crosses over his features as you feel yourself falling over the edge again. Gripping the counter with both hands, biting down harshly on your lower lip to stop the scream that wants to escape your lungs.
In your euphoric state you don’t notice the way Steve’s eyes watch you possessively, pride filling his chest knowing he’s the only man who has ever seen you like this. The only man to ever make you feel this way, and he planned on keeping it that way. Selfish as it was.
The blissed out look on your face is the thing that finally breaks what little composure he had left. The male burying his face in the crook of your neck as he paints your inner walls with his release. Stilling his hips at your deepest point, in an attempt to keep his cum buried inside you.
Steve’s secret way of marking you as his.
As both of you attempt to catch your breath, the sounds of the party carry on as if nothing happened. When Steve finally releases your hips, you grip tighter onto the counter to support yourself. Knowing your knees were far too wobbly to keep you upright. A soft whimper leaves your lips as he slides out of you, suddenly feeling empty. In more ways than one.
The male is quick to tuck himself back into his jeans, roughly pulling your panties up your legs. You can feel his cum beginning to pool in the lacy material, the dirtiness of it makes your body feel hot. You let out a shaky breath, turning to face him as he finishes tucking his polo back into his levi’s.
“Wait a few minutes before you come back downstairs, yeah?” Is all he says before he’s slipping out of the bathroom, running a hand through his tousled locks.
The door closes softly, and that familiar feeling of shame washes over you again. You shouldn’t be surprised by it at this point, as your little hookups always ended the same way.
With Steve thoroughly pleased with himself, and you all alone.
You can’t stop the moisture from flooding your vision, carefully sitting down on the edge of the tub. Gripping the hem of your dress in your fists as you ruin whatever makeup was still left behind. Shoulders shaking as silent sobs rack through your chest.
In that moment you made a promise to yourself, you wouldn’t let any man— especially someone like Steve fucking Harrington make you feel this way again. It wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it.
You continue to let the traitor tears fall for a while before returning to your feet. Glancing back in the mirror you barely recognized yourself, your usual bright eyes were dull, bloodshot and puffy. The little makeup you had done was now smeared across your cheeks. With a frustrated sigh you attempt to collect yourself before returning to the party.
Cleaning the black streaks from your face, adjusting your rumpled dress until you looked somewhat presentable. Taking a deep breath you finally leave the safety of the bathroom, descending the carpeted stairs on shaky legs. No one pays you any mind as you make your way back into the sea of people.
But what you find in the living room feels like a punch straight to the gut.
Steve is on the couch, another girl already straddling his lap with her tongue down his throat. His large hands that were previously gripping onto your hips were now splayed across her bare thighs. Inching higher and higher up as she tangles her fingers in his hair. You can only stand to watch for a moment longer before bolting out of the room and into the kitchen in search of another drink.
Thankfully the room was almost empty, except for a familiar brunette who was sipping on a can of Pepsi. You don’t say anything to him, grabbing an open bottle of vodka off the counter and bringing the rim to your lips. Enjoying the familiar burn as you greedily gulp down the clear liquid at an alarming fast rate.
Jonathan looks at you concerned, immediately rushing to your side in an attempt to grab the bottle from you. You quickly dodge him, shoving him away with a dirty look.
“Jonny stop! I’m having fun, see?” You roll your eyes before dramatically taking another large swig. Your best friend had seen you drink plenty of times before, but never like this. He knew you well enough to know there was clearly something wrong.
Before you can go back in for another drink he grips onto the base of the bottle, wrestling it from you with a grimace. Before slamming it back onto the counter, making you wince slightly at the sound of the impact.
“That’s enough now. I think I should take you home.”
His tone is stern, but laced with worry. You find yourself pouting in response, a small hiccup leaving you as he sighs. The only reason Jonathan was even here in the first place was to be your ride, he hated these parties. And he especially hated Steve Harrington.
But he was your best friend, and he would’ve done anything for you. And right now anything consists of getting you home before you do something stupid, “Fine dad… take me home then.”
Jonathan rolls his eyes at your childish behavior before wrapping his arm around your waist to help guide you through the house to the front door. The vodka you had just chugged was definitely starting to take effect, as you stumbled alongside him. Now suddenly a lot more grateful for his help.
What you don’t notice in your tipsy state was a pair of honey eyes watching you both from across the room, jaw clenched in jealousy as Jonathan helps you out into the warm summer night.
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stveharringtn · 2 days
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Steve angst Steve angst Steve angst!!! Maybe set after the "you're bullshit" and his first instinct is to go to your place and talk about it bc he needs comfort but then he slips ans accidentally says he's not even in love with Nancy but ut seems like it was his best try so far of getting over this person he's desperately in love with (the reader ofc, we're perfect lol) het gows on a rant of how no one will love him bc he's shitty and the reader is dumbfounded bc like wdym shitty, this cutie pie? How dare he speak about himself like that
‘ANGST ANGST ANGST’ we all cheer. i LOVE this idea and will never get tired of it. thank you for requesting! i apologize for it taking so long and i hope i do it justice! w; mentions of st*ncy timeline.
steve sits on the ground with you, back against your bed. his stupid glasses had been thrown onto your bed when he had stepped inside.
one arm rests on his knee, his other resting next to your body.
your head was leaned back against the soft blankets that covered your bed. “you okay?”
he lifts his brows, shrugging. “i’m fine… i just-” he stops, rubbing his lips together.
you frown, hand resting on his as you grip softly. his eyes are quick to look down at your soft hand. “it’s okay to talk about what you’re feeling, steve… i won’t judge you.”
the boy was one to always hold his emotions in - a sign of weakness is what he believed it to be.
“i’m not sad,” your brows pinches together. “i’m not even angry.”
“what? she said she-”
“it’s better if she said it rather than me.” he blurts, lips forming into a straight line.
you blink slowly, tilting your head. “what does… what does that exactly mean?”
“i, uh, this might not sound exactly… right, but i wasn’t exactly in love with nance. yeah, maybe for a small moment i believed i was?” he shakes his head. “i don’t know. it’s confusing. all i know is that i… did it so i could get over someone else, because there is absolutely no way they love me back the same way and-”
“steve, woah. slow down,” you laugh softly, hand sliding up his arm. “breathe. and to think someone wouldn’t love you is silly. anyone who doesn’t love you is a fool.”
“do you love me?”
you short circuit momentarily, staring at the boy who had come to you for comfort.
“i…” you pause. “how?”
“love me… or love me.”
you look away quickly. “i love you.” you nod.
“really?” he breathes out. “i wasted all that time dating someone when i could’ve just asked you?”
you smile softly, peeking up at him. “there’s time to make up for it.”
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maroon-cardigan · 8 hours
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𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑 | part V.
an enemies to lovers prince!steve harrington x princess!fem!reader mini series | a kingdom au
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index | part IV
summary: a promise between you and steve might bring hope and justice for the subjects, but in order to become the rulers you both wish to be, you and the prince must break each other's heart. sacrifices are made, lies are told and a wedding takes place.
word count: 10k
warnings: angst, (so much of it) a few plot twists (oops!). this series and my blog are +18, minors do not interact.
masterlist | ko-fi | playlist
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𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐒
Steve supressed a sigh as he walked through the corridor, preparing himself for another long day of discussing kingdom matters with his father, when someone pulled him from his side.
‘What are you doing?’ He asked as soon as he saw your face, covered by the shadows of the stone wall next to you.
You were wearing your cloak on top of your gown, a light thing that lacked the luxury of your other dresses, the perfumed smell of flowers surrounding him. There was no tiara or jewels on your head, instead, your unembellished brushed hair fell on your shoulders and back.
‘What are you doing today?’ You asked then, eyes curious as they studied the prince’s face. He looked like he had slept a bit better, the circles under his eyes a bit smoother.
‘I…’ He didn’t want to admit he didn’t know. ‘Some fencing training, I guess. Council meeting in two hours, then staying there for as long as I can… Why are you up so early?’
‘Because everyone’s going to start looking for me as soon as they wake up.’ You said with an annoyed tone. ‘We get married tomorrow, remember?’
‘Sadly, I do.’ Your lips lifted subtly in a smile as you rolled your pretty eyes at him.
He let out a low chuckle at it, that turned into a serious semblance when he realised how close you were. His eyes lingered on the curve of your eyebrow and the line that went from your temple to your cheek. He almost lifted his hand to brush his thumb against it when you spoke again.
‘Let’s go to the city.’
‘What?’
You nodded enthusiastically. ‘Let’s go to the city today. Let’s leave now.’
‘Violet, are you out your mind?’ He frowned, fingers finding his freshly brushed hair to turn it into a mess of brown locks. ‘I have responsibilities here.’
‘Your father has responsibilities here.’ You said with that direct, knife-twisting tone of yours. ‘Let’s actually do something useful that doesn’t involve sitting in a room full of councilmen or deciding between a bouquet of lilies or roses.’
Steve knew you had a point, but he still shook his head slightly, letting out a deep sigh. ‘My father expects me to be there.’
‘You’re going to have to stop following your father’s orders eventually.’ Your eyes were piercing as you gave him that unrequited advice that reminded him so much of the stubbornness of your childhood. But he didn’t feel angry at you anymore, not like he did when he was younger. ‘What are you going to do when you actually become a king? Wait for me to order you around?’  
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at your words.
‘You’re so full of yourself, princess.’ He smiled then; brown eyes lighting up as they looked down at you. ‘How are we going to get there without being noticed?’
You smiled victoriously, biting the inside of your cheek because of how excited you suddenly felt. ‘I know exactly how.’
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‘Is this how is going to be for now on?’ Eddie asked, holding your hand as you walked down the little step of the carriage. ‘You two get ideas and I just follow you?’
‘Possibly.’ Said Steve as he walked down right after you.
You turned your head to Eddie and shook your head.
‘Only if they come from me.’
Eddie stole a quick glance at Steve, who rolled his eyes at you for the third time today. He almost smiled at you then, until he started noticing the curious eyes of some subjects who were in the street that morning. You saw the way he lowered his gaze and swallowed hard before you took a deep breath in and stood next to him.
Your touch felt familiar when your hand wrapped around his arm, but he thought he’d never get used to it.
‘Come on.’ Your tone was a command in a way, but a subtle one. He knew what he had gotten into when he decided to skip the meeting and join you in the city today, and now he had to face it.
It’s the princess, you heard them whisper. Most of them looked at you with curiosity, to what you’d answer with polite nods and subtle smiles. There was too much you still needed to learn in terms of manners and traditions. But you were trying.
‘Your kingdom is really beautiful.’ You broke the silence you shared as you started walking along the main street with Eddie a few steps behind you. You admired the cute little half-timbered houses and their windows that the subjects opened for the spring breeze to sneak in.
Steve kept his eyes on you, thinking about how you still thought of it as his kingdom. And he understood why, but something inside him made him wonder if you would ever see it as anything more than that. As your kingdom. And maybe one day, if he was lucky enough, as your home.
He smiled subtly.  ‘I could tell you a bunch of random facts about it, but I wouldn’t want to bore you.’
‘What makes you think I don’t know the random facts already?’ You turned your head to face him, your chin almost touching his shoulder as you smiled with an arched brow. You were unbearably adorable, looking up at him like a mischievous child who knew they’d get caught without any consequences.
The memory of you in his chamber came back to him, how close he had been to kiss you and how quick things had gone downhill after that. He opened his mouth to say something, but the nerves only made him let out a breathy laugh.
His lack of reciprocity turned you shy then, and you turned your eyes in front of you, licking your lips to hide the embarrassment.
You stayed silent, focused on the sound of the city. Steps on cobblestones, the distant noise of horses walking, kids screaming, crying, laughing.
You narrowed your eyes when you noticed the childish noises came from a stone building with big wooden doors. Not just kids, there were adult voices coming out of it too, people chatting, the clacking of metal.
‘Violet.’ Steve called you when you untangled the hand around his arm and grabbed your dress on your fists to climb the steps to the door.
You ignored him, reaching the entrance to have a look at what was inside. At first, no one looked at you while you observed the scene of tables placed along the room and people sitting on them, eating together. A dining hall.
But the eyes slowly started to land on you, kids and adults alike. Curious, intrigued, expectant. Some of them bowed when you finally walked in, but not all of them. Many didn’t.
You weren’t scared, still hearing the noise of Eddie’s familiar armour behind you, but you knew you needed to be careful.
You turned your head back when their eyes landed on something beyond your shoulder.
Steve stood behind you on the entrance, posture tense and eyes expectant as he walked in. Your fingers brushed his, hesitant. And he swallowed hard at the feeling of it while he looked at his people, at his kingdom, at the future. Your future.
‘Prince Steve.’ An old man stood up on the other side of the hall, looking at the young prince with disdain. ‘What can I do for you?’
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Steve nodded at what the old man was saying, a hand on his chin as he listened attentively. His name was Hugh, and he had established the public dining hall for the people of the community who couldn’t afford eating. The dining hall was run by everyone, bringing the freshly ingredients on the evening and the women – mothers, daughters and widows cooked overnight. 
You listened while sitting next to Steve, feeling the way his knee moved repeatedly next to yours, the lightweight fabric of your dress trembling as a result. His hair was a mess after all the times he had ran his fingers through it in the last hour, but you couldn’t keep your eyes on it as you wished, because the atrocities the old man narrated kept you from doing so.
People were suffering. It was more than just starving and struggling, they were leaving. They had no other option after spending so many years under seize and then having soldiers come back to find there was not enough food or water, or enough mothers for all the orphaned kids.
The subjects felt the king had locked himself behind the walls of the castle during the war, and they expected Steve to do the same thing now that he was back. They had a right to be resentful. But now he was here. And he was listening with you by his side. Things could change, he thought. Now he thought they really could.
He was lost in his thoughts when you were back outside again, brown eyes studying the cobblestones while you walked next to him. Your cloak was now falling on your back and not covering your dress anymore. It was still sunny, and you didn’t want to go back to the chaos of planning the ceremony. Specially not after the conversation you had witnessed, now it felt too absurd to spend that much money on a wedding for two people who didn’t even love each other.
Steve saw the way you took your hand to your mouth as you got lost on your thoughts too. You had reached a blind alley where an old, imposing building stood in front of you. You didn’t realise he was staring until you looked at him and your mouth opened partly to ask a question that you forgot as soon as you noticed his brown pupils hiding under heavy eyelids. He seemed so tired. He seemed like he needed to talk.
‘It’s the old church.’ He explained.
You turned your head towards the building, nodding to hide the fact you were suddenly nervous, feeling the back of your neck turn sweaty.
He started climbing the steps and you looked behind your shoulder to ask Eddie for some privacy. But he was already many steps away from you, leaning against a column with his arms crossed.
‘Go.’ He silently mouthed.
Your cheeks flushed as you turned to climb the stairs behind the prince.
Steve was right. The old church was just a building taking space in a city that needed more. More money, more houses, more people. It seemed that it had been looted at some point, either by the crown taking the valuable things back or people stealing them. It didn’t matter. Everything was covered by dust, the only source of light was the sun sneaking through its stained-glass windows, drawing colourful patterns on the floor. The rest of the room was showered in a dull shade of blue.
You sat next to him on the front bench. There were no candles or an altar in front of you, just some grey stone steps that led to an empty wall.
He couldn’t help but take a deep inhale as your flowery perfume surrounded him.
‘That was… very necessary. Thank you.’ His voice echoed through the walls when he spoke.
Your hands laid on your lap as you sat straight. ‘I’m sorry about what he said about your father.’
You knew it hadn’t been easy for him.
Steve shook his head subtly, a bitter smile you now knew so well on his lips. ‘They’re right, and he should listen to them too. They’re his subjects as much as they’re mine. He’s failing them.’
You agreed in silence. Silence that was becoming more and more comfortable with the passing of days.
‘I was thinking about something.’ It was almost a whisper, but you heard him perfectly. Your shoulder was once again brushing his like in the library, close enough you could feel the warmth underneath.
‘Tell me.’
His eyes lifted then. Your tone was firm, as if you were actually interested in what he had to say.
‘We could… uh,’ He cleared his throat before he could sit more comfortably so he could face you, placing his elbow on the back of the bench. ‘We could choose one citizen to represent the subjects in the council. Maybe even one representative per community.’ His hands moved as he explained his idea enthusiastically, one of them running through his locks once again. ‘I– I don’t know if my father would agree. But maybe you could… Maybe you could help me.’
Your eyebrows arched at his words, you were suddenly warm under your lightweight dress, lips cold and hands sweaty. ‘Me?’
‘Yeah. You did all those things back in your kingdom, Violet. You forced them to let you replace your father in the council, you built the school and the temples, and people were grateful to you for it. You– you do things. You make things happen. This kingdom needs that.’
I need that, he thought.
You nodded then; eyes serious studying your hands before you lifted them to look back at him. He knew it, he was certain you were about to make a joke, by the way your eyes cheekily lit up, betraying you before you could even speak.
‘You don’t need to ask me to be stubborn about things. You know that, right?’
And he laughed. A low-pitched chesty noise that made you bite the skin inside your cheek to keep you from smiling.
Silence fell on you two again, and his eyes turned serious as you studied him.
‘I can’t repeat the same mistakes as my father.’ He said, and you could see in his brown exhausted irises that this thought troubled him more than he would admit. His voice turned even lower when he bent slightly towards you. ‘Please, don’t let me repeat the same mistakes.’
You shook your head then. A sad, understanding smile on your lips.
‘We’re rulers, Steve.’ You said, and he admired the confidence you said it with, as if you trusted him. ‘We’ll do whatever it takes. The marriage, the strategies, the sacrifices. Whatever it takes.’
It was a promise.
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Your mother was hysterical. Worse than that, your mother and Steve’s mother were hysterical when you came back to the castle in the afternoon.
‘You were supposed to try you dress on!’ Queen Agnes said before even saying hello to you.
‘And choose the flowers for the bouquet!’ Said Queen Yvette as one of the maids removed your cloak.
You gave Steve a knowing look as his mother’s words echoed what you told him that morning, and he couldn’t help but smile. He was leaning against a column with his arms crossed, observing the Queens’ excitement about the ceremony, too enthusiastic to even get mad at you.
‘The prince was showing me the kingdom.’ You explained simply before placing your hands on your mother’s shoulders. ‘Now I’m here and I’m all yours. Where’s Father?’
‘No.’ she said then, pinching your chin with between her index finger and her thumb. ‘You’re not going to your father now, or we’ll lose more time.’
‘But what about Greg? And Theo?’ You were almost pouting as you teased your mother. Steve thought it was adorable, his eyes taking in the beautiful sight of your hair falling down your back and your eyes sparkling with childish fun.
He almost hoped you could enjoy some of this.
‘Let’s go, let’s go.’ Insisted Queen Yvette as she urged you to follow your mother.
You looked back at him then, bowing clumsily on purpose. ‘My lord.’
He laughed like a child at your foolishness, slightly bending in front of you. ‘M’ lady.’
‘Let’s go, Violet.’ Your mother lightly pushed your back as you lowered your eyes, letting yourself be guided, mentally preparing yourself to be dressed up like a doll.
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You didn’t see him until dinner. King Talbot and Queen Yvette had organised a ball specially for your parents and the members of the court in an attempt to show the kingdom still remained strong after the war.
You had to bite your tongue after what you had witnessed that morning, though. So, you were back at wearing your gowns, lilac fabric entwined with golden threads hugging your body. Steve’s mother had insisted you’d wear her pearl tiara from when she was young, and you accepted without complaining, looking at the way her eyes slightly watered when the maid opened the wooden box that held the piece of jewellery in front of you. Everyone around you was so happy and you thought maybe you’d eventually feel the same. If you tried hard enough.
‘There you are!’ Gregory and Theodore held you in their arms as soon as they saw you speaking to Nancy on the other side of the great hall.
You wished you could almost stay in their arms, feeling that they broke the hug too soon. You listened attentively to their news from home while internally scolding yourself. The war was over, your family was alive. You were getting married.  You should’ve been happy.
You were getting married.
When Steve crossed the big doors of the great hall, wearing his purple vest and lifting his eyebrows as he smiled at his friends from the court, that’s when you knew. It was all too much. The way he seemed to light up the room, making everyone’s body language change with his presence, his charisma, and his stories from the war. Prince Steve. King Steve. For the first time in years, you felt invisible. And that should’ve been a good thing. But as he walked inside, acknowledging people and nodding to some of the guests, you felt as if you had a piece of glass stuck underneath your skin, cutting deeper with every beat of your heart.
You gave your wine glass to a man holding a tray next to you and held your dress on your fists as you started walking in the opposite direction before he even could land his eyes on you.
You were in need of some fresh air, leaning against the mahogany wall of the hallway outside, the ghostly noise of the ball behind the doors breaking the silence.
Your eyes lifted lazily when Eddie walked out of the hall to find you, a glass of wine in his hand and his armour replaced by a formal attire for the occasion.
‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’ You said with a subtle smile. His eyes narrowed for a second as he observed the quiet empty hallway, asking a silent question. ‘I needed to be invisible for a while.’
‘Right.’ He leaned on the wall opposite to you, next to an old portrait you assumed was from one of Steve’s relatives.
The silence was comfortable, only the low human sound of the party and your rhythmic breaths. You could feel him searching for your eyes and the worries behind them. He could imagine all the things that must have been tormenting you.
‘Remind me again how long have I been engaged for?’ You whispered in the dark.
‘Six years.’
Your lips turned into a line as you looked down at your gown for a second, a thoughtful frown adorning your face as your friend tried to read you.
‘Why does it feel like I’ll never get used to it?’ You let out a bitter laugh, trying to keep your eyes from watering. ‘And I get married tomorrow. Isn’t that stupid?’
‘I think you’re allowed to feel lost, Vee.’ He said shrugging. ‘I mean I saw what you two did today at the city. That was great. You can do great things together; you’re already doing them. Isn’t what this whole thing is about?’
You nodded, letting out a sigh as your eyes got lost on the pattern of the rug under your feet.
Maybe love was not something for people like you and Steve. Maybe the closest thing you would ever share was duty. A word you had to learn to understand and live by. And one that would have to be enough for you.
But why did it feel like it wasn’t?
‘You might be right.’ You admitted with a sad smile. ‘But enough about me. How are you finding the castle? Do you hate me for dragging you here?’
Eddie laughed as he took a sip of his wine.
‘I could never hate you. You’re my best friend.’
You smiled widely then, thinking about the curly haired teenager that didn’t judge you the first time you lifted a bow and an arrow. Once upon a time, when life was gentle, and childhood was full of possibilities.
You opened your mouth to say something, but the chatting of the ball eclipsed your voice when the doors opened.
Steve took a glance at you, and then at Eddie, smiling subtly. Your friend straightened his posture then, bowing at you two before heading back to the ball, your eyes never leaving him to avoid looking at the prince in front of you.
His partly illuminated face turned to you. He had shaved, soft skin making him look younger. His hair was brushed for once, brown locks turning reddish under the lights of the great hall sneaking into the hallway. By this time tomorrow, he would be your husband, and the thought was so painfully scary your eyes almost turned glossy again.
‘I was wondering,’ he said then, ‘If could have the next dance?’
You felt the pulse on your ears as he waited, expectant. He could see you hesitate, thinking maybe this had been a stupid idea, having read it all wrong after the friendliness you had shown that morning.
‘I–,’ You swallowed; hands straightening the front of your dress as a nervous response. ‘I thought that was compulsory.’
He shook his head once, a firm gesture as he studied you. ‘It never was.’
You looked at him then, stare shy but certain as you nodded with those deer eyes he had grown to hate more than any other frustrating trait of yours. 
‘You may.’
His hand was warm against yours when he led you to the ballroom. You internally cursed yourself for saying yes, as it had been years since you had been to a ball, let alone dance with a partner. But hadn’t he been on the battlefield for most of that time too? Still, it made you nervous, your hands shaky on your side as you walked in.
One of his hands found your back, gently pushing you towards him while he held your hand in the air with the other one. The gesture was so confident it made you gasp, your mouth partly opened as your eyes found his.
Was there a darkness in them he had never seen?
It took him back to that day in the chambers of your castle when your body was so close to his as he whispered in your ear. Your reaction made him forget himself, not guiding you for the first few seconds of the song, distracted by your lips.
He took the first step towards you, softly guiding you without taking his eyes off yours. Steve repressed his smile the best he could as you two started swinging gracefully around the ballroom. It was almost funny, how you two had managed not to mess up in the first minute of the song, and he could see the warmth in your eyes too, as the violins kept playing in the background. He slowly felt you relax to his touch, elbow falling naturally as the sweet curve that led from your wrist to your thumb fitted in the hollow middle of his palm.
Your other hand adjusted itself on his shoulder, thumb almost touching the space where the fabric of his collar and the skin of his neck met. You had to look away, down to the patterns of his vest as you felt the heat rushing to your cheeks.
His eyes turned soft at the change of your gaze. He searched for answers in them while you both took a step back, then one forward, getting unbearably close. The room turned to nothing, and his eyes could only focus on the way your eyebrows almost met in the middle. There was no childish complicity in them anymore, something else, something serious seemed to be overflowing from them, drowning you.
It was a moment of absolute terror, when you realised how starved you had been your whole life. Never letting anyone, especially not him, see how much you craved tenderness, warmth, proximity. The certainty of someone’s company.
He tilted his head at the way your eyes had suddenly turned glossy, a few strands of hair falling on his forehead.
‘What’s wrong?’ He whispered.
You were shaking your head repeatedly, but subtly enough so no one around you noticed. It turned worse, much worse when his thumb brushed against your cheek, a barely there touch that burned like hot iron against a tongue, a gesture too public and yet as necessary as oxygen as it all fell down on you.
It was a moment of absolute terror, realising you were in love with the person you were supposed to be in love with, and that you had no idea what to do about it.
‘I lost the pace.’ You whispered back. But the song was over then, and you had blinked enough times for your tears to go away.
Your body disentangled from his slowly, looking up at him as you did. Steve’s arms stood in the air a second too long before they rested on his sides, almost as if he hoped you to regret your actions and fill the emptiness again. To come back to where you belonged.
He frowned at the way your smile didn’t reach your eyes as you bowed. ‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘Vee.’
‘Yes?’ Your tone was almost urgent, lightheaded by the way your heart felt too big for your chest, endless beats echoing like the buzz of a bumblebee.
Steve licked his lips, trying to find the words. Words that didn’t seem to come. You had been a ghost in the battlefield. You had been a memory, a possibility, for too long. Now you were here, soft skin as tangible as life and as certain as death. And he didn’t know what to do with you.
He didn’t know.
A second of silence turned into to two, and three, and four. Nothing.
You played with your hands, looking around you before your eyes landed on his again.
‘I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.’ You tried to joke with a fake smile.
He nodded nervously, soft eyes asking you to stay. He hoped you realised he was asking you to stay.
But you bowed and turned around, getting lost in between the multitude as your big proud heart broke inside your chest.
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He looked up at your window as Argyle and Jonathan laughed loudly. Your eyes were curious when they met his, the darkness of the night making it almost impossible to read what was behind his brown stare. Theodore, Gregory and Mike joined the group of drunk men then, your mouth lightly lifting into a sad smile when Jonathan surprised him by wrapping his arm around the prince’s neck and messing up his hair jokingly.
‘Violet.’
You turned around as someone called you.
And when Steve got Jonathan off him and he lifted his eyes again, you were not in the window anymore.
Instead, you sat on a chair in a table where the remains of a card game laid, messy and forgotten as the wine came and went between you and the rest of women giving you company that night. The night before your wedding.
The two queens sat next to each other, laughing, and joking under the effects of the alcohol as you listened to a very drunk Robin talk about new designs. Nancy’s eyes stayed on her with a funny look every time your friend stuttered or laughed at something silly because of how drunk she was.
Other ladies sat in the sofas gossiping, drinking, and eating cake under the dim lights of the candles. You had supressed many sighs in the last hour, begging for them to get drunk to the point they’d leave you to be miserable in peace, but they were ecstatic.
‘Oh, I’m so happy.’ Said Queen Yvette then, grabbing your mother’s wrist fondly. ‘There hasn’t been a wedding in this castle in years.’
You smiled shyly then, the knot on your stomach rising to your chest and the walls of your throat closing. Your eyes stung, your heart beat fast.
‘And look at you!’ Your mother said standing up to cup your cheeks on her hands. ‘Look at her! Isn’t she the prettiest bride?’
You could feel every pair of eyes in the room on you.
‘Mother,’ Your voice became hoarse by the tears you tried to swallow, your hands finding her wrists as she leaned on you fondly.
Queen Yvette stood up then, glass of wine still on her hand, cheeks red by her drunkenness, a hand rubbing on your back with familiarity. ‘Oh, I still remember when you were a little wild thing! So young and so troublesome!’
You let out a breathy laugh in embarrassment.
‘You hated Steve.’ She laughed, ‘Oh, and he was so madly in love with you already. It was adorable.’
‘God, I still remember all the fights.’ Said your mother rolling her eyes. ‘And now look at you, my little queen.’
You nodded then, cheeks hot by what they assumed were the drinks influence and the affection that surrounded you. But your eyes turned blurry at the way the knife twisted inside your chest.
It was almost a relief when Robin took a bucket near the table and threw up in it.
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ She started saying when you and Nancy grabbed her arms.
‘It’s fine.’ You said rubbing her shoulder.
‘Yeah, you’re okay, Robin.’ Said Nancy then, putting a strand of hair behind her ear.
‘Come on. Let’s get you to bed.’ You said then, eyes looking at Nancy hoping she would get the message. You needed a break away from all the attention.
Robin landed softly on her bed, eyes partly closed and mouth mumbling nonsense as Nancy covered her with a blanket and you sat on a chair on the other side of the room.
You let out a sigh, placing you hand on your mouth as you thought.
Nancy left you in peace as her eyes focused on Robin’s profile, standing next to the bed. Your eyes lifted when her hand started to follow the line from Robin’s forehead to her mouth, eyes subtly lifting and the ghost of a smile on her lips. Your gaze turned blurry at the tenderness of the gesture, heart sinking on your chest.
It was as if love had been all around you for so long, and you were completely blind to it, unable to feel it.
‘You’re drunk.’ You whispered then, standing up.
Nancy only lifted her dreamy eyes at you, cheeks rosy when she realised you had been observing her all along.
You walked to Robin’s bed, lifting the covers for Nancy to climb in. She did so softly, followed by your silent orders as if she hadn’t been dreaming about sleeping next to Robin since she was a child who befriended the weird girl from the castle.
You covered their bodies with the blanket then. It was all innocent and tender, as Nancy wrapped her arms behind Robin and placed her chin on her shoulder. Her heavy eyes closed before you blew the candle, leaving you in total darkness.
Now you were alone in the hallway. Finally. Hands behind your back, scratching the stone behind you as you thought about your luck, remembering the day you met the stubborn boy with the brown eyes.
And you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
You almost made your knuckles bleed when you knocked on his door. You didn’t know what time it was, the wind whistling outside and the wolves howling in the distance.
‘Violet.’ He said your name when he found you outside his room, cheeks red and hair partly sweaty. He was holding a jug of wine in his hand, lips tinted by the liquid and eyes serious as he looked back at you.
‘Is this a bad time?’ You asked stealing a glance to his room beyond his shoulder. But he seemed to be alone, no trace of the boys who had been drinking with him earlier.
He let out a breathy laugh and you noticed the way his eyelids were heavy, stumbling subtly as he leaned his back against the threshold.
‘What d’you need, princess?’ He asked, taking a sip straight out of the jug.
You blinked repeatedly at the bluntness of his tone. ‘I– I was hoping we could discuss some things about tomorrow.’
‘What things?’ He was amused at something, but you didn’t know what. Your cheeks were hot, your hands were cold and sweaty. ‘Decorations? Courses? Or maybe you want a new dress. Anything to call this circus off and go back home?’
You opened your mouth to say something, but a silhouette behind him opened the door wider. King Talbot seemed serious when he looked at you, you thought it could only be his disapproval of your presence in Steve’s chambers, but something inside you made you feel this was much bigger than that.
‘Your majesty.’ You bowed then, still confused at the situation and not sure about how to proceed.
‘Please forgive my son, princess.’ He said then. ‘You may come in.’
You frowned your eyebrows then, walking in to find King Paul sitting in front of the fireplace with a cup of wine on his hand.
‘Father?’
‘Sit down, Violet.’ He said, avoiding your eyes. You looked back at Steve, who clumsily shut the door behind him before walking back to his seat.
You were possessed by a familiar feeling. The day of your engagement your body moved without thinking, and now you were sitting down in front of your father, numbness taking over it as you waited to hear what they had to say. There was no sign of Theodore or Gregory, and the two queens remained drunk in the room upstairs, unaware of this meeting.
‘You went to the city today.’ Said King Talbot as he walked around the room with a cup of wine on his hand.
Your eyes landed on Steve for a second before looking back at the King. His eyes were focused on the fireplace, the wine jug long forgotten on a table next to the door.
‘We did, your majesty.’
The King’s ringed hands landed on the back of one of the chairs, standing behind it as he looked at you. ‘With what intention?’
‘I wanted to see the city.’
‘Violet.’ Your father’s voice made you look back at him.
‘It’s the truth.’ Your voice was firm enough, so your father’s eyes moved back to the fire. ‘Your majesty, I don’t understand–’
‘Your imprudence could’ve put you and the prince in great danger. I should be reminding you this is not your kingdom, princess Violet.’
‘It certainly will be tomorrow.’ You said standing up, looking at Steve. ‘What is this really about?’
He sighed then, eyes tired as he brushed his hair with his hand. Steve opened his mouth to speak, but King Talbot spoke first.
‘There’s been an attempted revolt–’
‘It was not a revolt.’ Steve interrupted him before looking at you. ‘Just some subjects trying to speak to a King that doesn’t wish to see them.’
‘Steve–’ The King tried to contradict his son, but Steve wasn’t finished.
‘They were complaining about the taxes, and the… the wedding.’ His eyes focused on the fireplace, unable to meet yours.
You took a deep breath, walking to the table next to the fireplace to pour yourself a drink, but you decided against it at the last second. Steve looked at the way you lent against the table instead, eyes lost on the stoned floor as you thought about what to do.
‘But that’s ridiculous.’ Said your father. ‘We are funding the wedding.’
‘It’s not time for celebrations, my King.’ You replied then, lifting your eyes.
‘The war is over.’ He argued, making you scoff instantly.
‘Not for them, father.’
Your words lingered in the air for a few seconds as you came up with a possible solution. It was a great risk. It was insane. It was never going to work.
‘What if–’ Their eyes lifted to look at you, half of your face lit up by the fireplace. ‘What if I’m already carrying the next heir of the throne? That would justify such a wedding.’
Your father stood up instantly as Steve walked towards you. His hand found your wrist firmly as he shook his head. ‘This is not– No. This would ruin you.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ You said, moving your arm to get rid of his grip, missing his hand, and the softness of the ball hours ago. An absence that burned. ‘This is not my kingdom, Steve.’
His eyes turned softer at your coldness, and the way your words echoed those of King Talbot’s. But he had hurt you first. You had come to his chambers to confess it all. To admit defeat and tell him that you believed you could be truly happy with him. But now you weren’t so sure.
‘I don’t like this.’ Said your father then. ‘It doesn’t make you look good.’
‘Spending this much money on a wedding for two unhappy people doesn’t look good either, father.’
Steve scoffed then, walking away with his hands on his hips. You followed his silhouette with your eyes for a few seconds before looking back at your father. ‘What you don’t like it’s the fact that it doesn’t make you look good.’
King Paul opened his mouth to speak, but King Talbot was quicker at replying.
‘It’s too much of a risk. Not just for you, but for the princesses too.’
‘By the time the princesses get married I hope you know better than to abandon your people, your majesty.’ You said.
The silence was heavy between you and the King as you stood up on the other side of the room, certain that after all, you were risking it all tonight. Just not in the way you expected.
‘You are a guest in my kingdom, princess Violet.’
‘And I am carrying the future ruler of it.’ You lied, feeling the blood boiling under your skin.
The three men looked back at you, two of them thinking they now understood your determination and insistence at justifying the wedding. You avoided Steve’s frown as the silence fell in the room. He couldn’t believe what you were doing, but the words you said in the old church echoed through his mind.
We’re rulers.
We’ll do whatever it takes.
Whatever it takes.
‘There will be a wedding. Just not the wedding that everyone expected. There will be no ball or banquet and the food will be donated to the subjects. If not,’ You swallowed hard as you looked at the eyes of King Talbot. ‘I’ll let everyone know I’m pregnant.’  
You slowly walked towards your father then, your hands finding his ringed fingers when you stood in front of him. You tried hard to blink away the tears on your face, thinking you were destroying all the admiration he had for you, one you had so hardly worked for throughout all these years of sacrifices.
‘I don’t want you to spend any more money on trivialities.’ His eyebrows arched at the seriousness in yours, trying to unpack everything he had learned in a matter of seconds. ‘You’re either helping me to rebuild this city or not helping me at all.’
You could still feel their eyes on you when you bowed before grabbing your dress on your fists to walk back to the hallway. You knew he’d follow you, but you still decided to ignore the sound of his steps on the stone floor as he called your name.
‘Violet–’
‘Leave me alone, Steve.’ Your tone was firm, but he still noticed the way you cleaned the hot tears with the back of your hand. His pulse had turned intolerably fast, fearing the consequences of what you had done.
‘No.’ He grabbed your elbow, making you turn back to him. His fingers wrapped around the skin under your shoulders, so you’d look at him. Your eyes were full of a rage greater than whatever he had seen in your adolescent years. This was something else. Something much darker. ‘Why did you do that!? Are you insane!?’
‘Steve,’ You were almost spitting hate by the way you pronounced his name. ‘Let me go.’
‘Would you listen for a second?’ He shook you slightly then, making your blood boil even more. You never listened, and now he feared for your life. ‘Have you any idea of the things my father could do if we were found out? Do you realise what you’ve done?’
You tried to get rid of his grip, but his hands moved to your waist, pushing you towards him in an attempt to hold on to every inch of your skin.
You lifted your fist to punch his chest, but his fingers found your chin first, making you look back at him whether you liked it or not. ‘Are you listening to me?’
You stopped fighting then, letting out a scoff of disbelief. ‘We wouldn’t be in this position if you stood up to your father. I’m saving your kingdom once again and you’re just calling me insane.’
‘You didn’t even ask me, Violet.’ His hand left your chin then, moving to cup your face instead, trying to find a way to hold you. Hating himself for failing you once again. ‘It was impulsive, and foolish and reckless.’
‘Let me go, Steve.’ You said finally getting rid of his grip. You took a step back to look back at his flushed cheeks and messy hair. ‘You’re drunk.’
‘And you’re impossible.’ He said brushing his hair with his fingers in frustration. ‘There are some things, Violet, that are out of your control. How could you be so foolish?’
You looked to your side then, hand on your mouth and eyes getting blurry the more his words wounded you. He was right, how could you be so foolish to think he loved you back?
You stood in silence then, and he observed you, longing to hold you in his arms again. Knowing that this was all his fault. Almost as if you had read his mind, you spoke again.
‘Don’t blame me for your cowardice.’ Your wounded eyes looked back at him then, the scars from all those years reopening again in front of his eyes. ‘I’ve sacrificed so much, Steve. I’m not sacrificing my morals for you.’
He stood there, looking at you as you took a few steps back before walking back to your room, knowing that only one thing was certain: tomorrow you’d become his wife.
The wind had changed. That’s the first thing Steve noticed that morning, as he let the arrow go gracefully, landing near the blue centre of the bullseye, but not quite in the middle of it.
His hangover had brought him a sleepless night, a frown adorning his face and purple under eyes making him feel at least ten years older than he was the day he was going to get married.
He looked down at the grass as the tip of the bow sunk on the dirt, the early morning wind blowing his hair as the sun started to rise in the distance.
A day ago, he would’ve thought he was still on time to call it off and save you from a life of unhappiness. But now he was certain you were doomed to live a marriage based on bitterness and resentment.
He took his hands to his eyes, hoping that by rubbing them he would get rid of the migraine that was starting to form in there.
Right after you left, he had run back to the room, finding the kings arguing over you.
‘What have you done?’ Said his father as soon as he walked back in. ‘Everything. Paul and I gave you everything and you do this.’
Steve could not look back at them, swallowing hard as his eyes got lost on the flames of the fireplace.
‘I’ll send for the doctor to visit her tomorrow.’ Steve’s eyes lifted at his father’s words. ‘We must find out before–’
‘You will certainly not.’ Said King Paul then, before the prince could speak. ‘You won’t put my daughter through any more distress. Specially not now.’
The King frowned at the words of his friend. ‘Do you expect me to believe this without any proof?’
‘Father.’ Steve interjected then. ‘Even if it was a mistake and she turns out not to be pregnant, I’m marrying Violet.’
‘Because you slept with her?’
‘How dare you?’ King Paul stood in front of him then, and Steve had to take a step forwards to keep him from hurting his father. ‘How dare you speak about my daughter that way?’
Steve took a deep, tense breath then, looking back at his father.
‘Because I love her.’
Now, as the dawn painted the mountains in orange shades, he wasn’t so sure that would be enough.
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You couldn’t have breakfast. But Nancy made sure you drank a lot of tea as they dressed you on your white dress. It was exactly what you wanted: fingerless gloves, off the shoulder top, long gown. The numbness growing unmeasurably the more garments were added to your body, a pair of white shoes, a heavy diamond necklace, pearls attached to strands of your hair, a silver headpiece holding your veil.
Nancy’s blue eyes searched for yours as she powdered your face, but you were expressionless, thinking about what you had done, wondering if you’d ever be able to fix it.
If there was something good about this was that the people would finally get what they needed. It was the first step to get the justice you wished to see, and that you knew Steve wished to see too. It was almost funny how somehow a common aim was what had ended up dividing you two more than never before. But if there was something you had learned during the war was that good causes couldn’t always be won through respectable methods.
Gregory walked in then, standing on the threshold of you room while you heard chatter and laugh in the distance. You were playing with a white feather when your eyes found his on the mirror in front of you. He was looking at you with endearing eyes, completely unaware of your unhappiness. Until you lowered your eyes.
‘Can I speak to my sister alone?’ You heard him said.
It was the first time you heard him give an order with such authority. The room became quiet when the maids left along with Nancy and Robin, who took a quick glance at you before closing the door behind them.
You followed his blurry silhouette with your eyes as he kneeled in front of you.
‘What’s wrong?’
You shook your head repeatedly as the tears pooled on your eyes.
‘Everything.’
‘Hey,’ His hand found your shoulder, stroking it softly as your cheeks turned hot by the tears running. ‘You look great, Vee. Everything looks great out there, too. I’m so proud of you. Everyone is. There’s not one single person out there waiting for you that doesn’t love you.’
Your eyebrows lifted at his words, a breathy sob leaving your lips as you looked up at the ceiling to avoid your brother’s eyes. ‘That’s not true.’
There was one.
Gregory frowned, trying to grasp the meaning behind your words. ‘What do you mean?’
You rolled your eyes, grabbing a handkerchief on the vanity and cleaning your cheeks. You’d have to call Nancy once again to retouch your face, and you didn’t know what you were going to tell her. You let out a bitter laugh at the swollen-eyed face in the mirror.
‘Forget it. I’m being absurd.’
‘You’re scared.’ He said, searching for your eyes.
‘I’ll get over it.’ You shrugged bitterly.
‘Vee.’ You finally looked at him, the authority behind his tone left you no choice. ‘I can tell Steve that you’re no ready for this, he–’
‘No!’ You leaned in to grab his hands, warm in comparison of the icy skin under your sleeves. ‘Don’t tell Steve. I don’t want him to see me like this. The last thing I need is to humiliate myself in front of him.’
‘Humiliate…? Violet, he’d stop all of this in a second if you asked him to.’ You studied his eyes as his piercing gaze stayed on yours. You could feel your heart breaking inside your chest when realisation landed on his pupils. ‘Violet.’
‘Stop, Gregory.’ You said standing up, a mess of white fabric walking around the room.
‘You can’t possibly think–’
‘I said stop.’ You said in between sobs.
‘Steve loves you.’
‘I said stop!’ You screamed.
His eyebrows frowned at the aggressiveness of your tone. You were breathing heavily, shoulders rising and falling as you looked back at him through your glassy eyes.
You shook your head again, tears falling down your cheeks. Your voice was a low whisper when you spoke.
‘I’m sorry. I just– I’m terrified. Do you know what it’s like to want to be happy with someone and know that all you can give them is misery?’
‘Vee, that’s not true–’
‘It is true for Steve and me.’ You swallowed, feeling your sorrow being replaced by numbness once again. ‘We never called off the engagement and we won’t stop the wedding,’ You were playing with your hands as a sad smile lifted your lips. ‘Because we know this is what we must do. We’ve always known it.’
‘Vee.’ He couldn’t believe your stubbornness. ‘Come on.’
‘Love is not something for people like us, Gregory.’
You lifted your eyes to look at him, wondering if you should tell him about what had happened last night. The secret that you carried. But the war and the years had distanced you too much from each other, and you had accepted your miserable fate, the one you were responsible for.
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King Paul looked at you through your veil. You were avoiding his eyes as they lingered on the brooch on his vest, with the coat of arms from the archery school. Your lips lifted subtly at the look of it, thinking of the girl you once were.  
Your father stroked your arm, making you look back at him. He hadn’t spoken to you since what happened in Steve’s room the night before. ‘Ready?’
You nodded, turning your body towards the church’s entrance. Your hand wrapped around his arm, and you squeezed once. The silence between you two was heavy and wounding, your heart beating hard against your chest.
‘Father.’ Your voice was soft when you whispered, turning back at him with glossy eyes under your veil. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He didn’t reply, instead he moved forward to leave a soft kiss on your forehead before the doors opened and the trumpets announced your arrival.
Steve’s eyes turned soft at the sight of you. Eyebrows arching for a second before fixing his posture, fighting the overwhelming feeling of his heart beating against his chest. He swallowed hard at your white silhouette, the way your gentle hands got lost under the lace of the gloves, subtly shaking with every step you took towards him.
How many times had he thought of your like this? Too many. But it was killing him to know that you were terrified. That you hated him. He could get on his knees right there and beg you to forgive him. For what had happened the night before, for everything that happened in your kingdom. For leaving you no option than to walk down this aisle.
He swallowed hard again.
You had promised yourself you wouldn’t look at him, but it was as if the room was empty as you walked down the aisle. Your throat closed with fear, and your heart beat so fast you thought you’d faint at any second. Until you stood in front of him.
Steve held your freezing hand when your father let you go, thumb brushing over your knuckles as you took a deep breath, glad that the veil covered your face just enough to hide the tear that rolled down your cheek.
You stood still as the bishop spoke, feeling everyone’s eyes on you but only focused on the rhythmic breaths of the prince next to you. He was looking at you from the corner of his eye, thumb still brushing over yours as the words of the useless sermon echoed through the room.
He held your shaky hand when the bishop announced the vows. Steve took a step towards you then, fingers lifting the lightweight fabric to find your angelical face wet. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, loving him, hating him. Not knowing what to do as he lifted his hands to clean your face with his soft thumbs.
‘I Steve,’ He said, brown eyes focused on the hairs that curled against your temple to avoid your wounded gaze, ‘Take you, Violet, to be my wife. To have and to hold from this day forward;’ He had to stop, taking a deep shaky breath before proceeding. ‘For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.’
His hands left your face to take the ring offered to him, a silvery thing with a sapphire on top that he had chosen thinking about all those jewels you used to wear on your collarbones once upon a time. Your hand was shaky when you offered it, and you observed the way it slid on your finger while a mix of emotions burst on your chest.
‘To love and to cherish. Forever.’ He lifted your ringed hand, brown eyes looking back at you, before he kissed your knuckles with a tenderness that killed you. ‘Or till death do us part.’
You swallowed hard, blinking slowly as he let your hand go. The absence of his warm skin burned you, but not for long, as your fingers shyly brushed his as you started you own oath.
‘I, Violet, t-take you, Steve.’ Your voice was shaky and soft. He tilted his head with arched brows, and you were sure no one had heard you, so you had to start again, shutting your eyes hard by the embarrassment. ‘I, Violet, take you, Steve. To be my husband.’
You lifted his hand then, reaching for the ring and taking the opportunity to lower your eyes, sight blurry as you spoke. ‘To have and to hold from this day forward; for better, for worse.’ You slid the ring through his finger, slowly letting it go once it fit. ‘For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.’
His hand rested on his side now, and you had to take a deep breath before lifting your eyes. His brown irises were expectant, knowing that you’d lie here in front of everyone. Knowing that there was so much he’d never be able to give you.
Hating himself for what he had let you do.
‘To… love.’ You whispered, trying to hold the tears that threatened to fall. His hand found the side of your neck then, thumb brushing your jaw as you looked from his eyes to his lips. Hoping things could be different, saying words than meant nothing compared to what you really wanted to say. ‘And to cherish. Till death do us part.’
‘You may kiss the bride.’
You looked at him expectantly waiting to feel his lips on your mouth. But Steve took a step forwards to place a soft kiss on your forehead, a subtle thing that filled you with bitterness and made you close your eyes, feeling a tear rolling through your cheek while everyone on the audience clapped for the most miserable couple in the kingdom.
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‘I don’t understand.’ Said your agitated mother as you walked inside the room, taking your veil off and dropping it on the floor. Hot tears still rolled through your face as you tried to deal with the hurt and humiliation. ‘Why would Talbot cancel the banquet?’
‘Mother,’ She frowned at your tone as you looked back at her. ‘I wish to be alone.’
‘Violet–’
‘Leave.’
You tried to catch your breath as you saw her wounded eyes look back at you. And Oh, did you hate yourself now. You had managed to disappoint both of your parents and your brother in a matter of hours. Ruining every good thing that had ever happened to you.
You cleaned your nose with the back of your hand, exhausted and defeated as you sat on the floor next to the bed, your untouched, marital bed, hiding your face as you crossed your arms over your knees, white gown taking most of the space and the distant celebration bells echoing all around you. 
Steve heard them too. As soon as the church’s doors closed, he saw you run upstairs and instead of standing where he was, reaching for the ghost of your face, he decided to walk in the opposite direction towards the stables.
‘Steve–’ Queen Agnes put a hand on his chest, confusion overflowing her face as she tried to search for his eyes.
‘Not now, mother.’ He said, removing her caring hand and resuming his walk.
Only King Talbot could assume what was going on inside his son’s head. His son who had caused so much trouble.
‘Steve.’
His father stood in his way then. His brown eyes, so similar to the ones he saw whenever he looked in the mirror. The King’s stare was full of something he never thought he would ever see coming from him: disappointment and distrust. He spoke in between his teeth as he looked down at her son.
‘You might want to go to your subjects if you wish to fulfil your wife’s wishes.’
Steve swallowed hard as he looked back at the king. But he was too angry to follow that command. Too angry with himself, with the world, with you.
So instead, he rode all the way to Lover’s Lake. He would’ve ridden even further away if it wasn’t for the fact he could kill his horse in the process.
All he could do was kick the ground after dismounting, holding his head in his hands, letting out a wounded scream.
He was a coward. He knew he was a coward, but you? You were ruthless and brutally cruel. You had crossed the line and shattered his heart in the process, starved for power when he would’ve renounced to heaven if that meant he’d get to be in hell with you. And now he had to go back to the castle and give you a child to save whatever was left of this marriage that hadn’t even started.
He sniffed as he looked up to the grey sky of spring, sight blurry by the tears he could not hold anymore. And he screamed your name until his voice turned hoarse and the starless night fell.
A new era had started, and you and Steve would rule, but at what cost?
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author's note: hiii babies, i decided to add a note here to avoid any spoilers. i know a lot happened in this chapter but i promise, promise, promise this is the last angsty chapter of this au. there's so much fluff and love in the next one. please also remember all my aus have happy endings, okay??? everything that happens here will make sense at the end. don't hate me pls. ily all and please let me know your thoughts on this one. ♡
part VI: state of grace (april, 5th)
🏷️: @thytorturedpoet @sheisjoeschateau @totally-bogus-timelady @bitterspoons @julielightwood @avie-mo @ellharrington @hollandweather @kitdjarin1 @emptyporsche
I do no consent for people to plagiarise, translate, copy or repost any of my written works anywhere. I do not consent people to use any of my written work for AI purposes.
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str4ngergirlw0rld · 2 days
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Steve rarely opens up to people,tells them how he feels blaming it on the fact that he grew up with parents who were divided, he didn’t want to end up like that , like his dad he would rather die than to end up like him.
Steve royally regrets that , the sharp scent of alcohol is burning his nose, the beeping machinery around him refusing to soothe his anxiety, his palms sweaty against his thighs , steve's breathing is getting heavier and heavier each second, he assumes its cause he’s tired cause he’s lost a lot of blood but that’s not it.
You’d told him you loved him, opened your walls to him , let him in and told him you really cared for him. You told him that he was your person and he said nothing, nothing to let you know that he loved you more than anything else in the world, more than Dustin's funny jokes and more than Robin's relentless teasing. Steve loves you and he couldn’t say it back.
Now you lay still on a cold hospital bed , dim lighting surrounding you ,your room void of gifts , of flowers , nothing except your sister holding your hand , falling asleep on the seat she moved right next to your bed, blood dripping from both of her nostrils searching for you in the void.
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ptichiypepel · 2 days
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Modern!AU, Medical!AU, Hanahaki!AU in which reader throws up lilies and Steve is blissfully unaware. (12,7k)
Warnings: text may have unpleasant descriptions of diseas, talking about death and dying, angst, open final, unrequited love, ooc Nancy
Soundtrack: Dove Cameron - Bloodshot
Notes: Hanahaki Disease is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's ability to feel disappear.
Interferons are a group of signaling proteins made and released by host cells in response to the presence of several viruses. In a typical scenario, a virus-infected cell will release interferons causing nearby cells to heighten their anti-viral defenses.
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Robin says that if you hadn’t been studying books like a swot at the age of eighteen, and hadn’t been obsessed with writing articles for scientific journals, then all this crap wouldn’t happend at all.
Well, the logic here is that you would have then done all sorts of wild things, that all teenagers do, and eventually calmed down. And since all of this did not happen, you are doing this now, at twenty-eight.
You may not agree with her about this, but your mouth is filled with flower petals, so you remain silent.
- You, fool, - the current Robin is not distinguished by empathy at all, because all the empathy that she was so proud of completely disappeared by the end of the internship. Healthy medical cynicism was formed by the third course, when future doctors began to drink regularly once a week. - What are you waiting for? You play with fire, I'm not gonna save your ass when it's too late.
You stretch your lips into a smile and put a cookie in your mouth, immediately coughing and covering your mouth with your hand.
You hoped that at least Robin would have some brain cells today and would bring normal food from home to duty.
You? You live alone and simply hate cooking, but Robin has a wife - and a bunch of other things. Brain, for example. Sometimes you envie her, but not very often.
Your night shifts rarely coincide, but if this happens, you certainly spend them together - fortunately, the surgical and microsurgical buildings are very close. One night in one building, the other in another, although personally Robin prefers hanging out in microsurgery with you. There are less problems here, because patients in the eye department need help at night much less often.
And now you both are sitting in your staff room, drinking tea and eating biscuits, and you start to curse, coughing and running out to return about five minutes later, examining some weird wet rag in your fingers.
When Robin realizes what it is, she feels sick to her stomach. They are already so big...
- They’re not daffodils, I’m betting my ass, - you say calmly and shake a wet flower in front of Robin's face. Well at least you washed it before showing. - These are some shitty rare lilies, I read about them. Pankratium or something like that.
- I hope it's not literally shitty? - Robin's still able to jock about it. Because - what else left?
- No. This one's from the mouth.
You put a flower on the table, and it gradually begins to dry out from the water and take on normal shape - sharp, long white petals gathered into a corolla, a thin and green stem, torn at the base.
And if earlier these were just seeds or individual parts of an inflorescence, now they are whole flowers, perhaps smaller than ordinary ones. But this, of course, is a matter of time.
When you first start coughing and notice some white petals in the sink, you want to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, - and you do.
At first you don't even understand where you could have become infected, but then, after analyzing it, you laugh louder, because only to you could happen such thing.
You know for sure that Billy, who has been in love with you for several years, had an operation - Robin told you about this as soon as she saw a quota for him in her colleague’s plans.
You felt immediate relief, even though you understood all the consequences - but it’s still better, than just dying ingloriously.
At least for ambitious Billy who wouldn't want to die from a disease caused by broken heart. Because Billy was too proud to let people know he has one in the first place.
Another thing is that you didn’t even suspect where a bouquet of flowers in a vase - withered hyacinths - appeared in your office one day from - at first you didn’t even pay attention, and when you did, it was too late.
They began to smell disgustingly sweet, and you went up to the table and for some reason touched them with your finger, immediately withdrawing your hand in disgust. Then you asked the nurse to throw them away, and a couple of weeks later you saw the first petal in the palm of your hand.
It was a funny greeting from Billy, with a deep meaning. And you, who had been in love for a long time and unrequitedly, but not with him, also began to vomit this rubbish and at first you didn't even tell anyone anything.
Either you didn’t take it seriously, or you couldn’t believe that fate had played such a cruel joke on you, but it doesn’t matter anymore - Rob found out about everything already when the petals turned into inflorescences, and your cough began to remind her of the need to do fluorography. That's what medical friends are for, to tell jokes about tuberculosis.
That's when you tell her - and even show, opening your hand with a heap of wet petals. For some reason, you never throw them away right away, carefully washing them of blood and examining them with true scientific interest, as if you were going to write a dissertation.
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You all meet in the first year of university, when you enter the same faculty of medicine and end up in the same group. You, Robin, Steve and Eddie for some time become a curse for the entire class and teachers, although you personally are more for the company than for joy - during these times, you really put an effort into your studies, write vigorously in all scientific journals and speak at every conference.
Everyone else of your friends wasn't bothered with studying, especially Steve who wanted to feel a free college life like they show in the movies. There begin parties in the dorm, absenteeism of classes and inevitable learning before the session - because well, you are doctors, you actually have to know how to treat people.
In the third course the teachers danced when Eddie decides to expel, because he understood that college is not for him and he wants to work as a mechanic in his ankle's garage.
Situation somehow immediately becomes calmer.
The rest of you rent an apartment not far from the university, saying goodbye to the dorm forever, and begin to live together: Steve after a big scandal with his parents funally starts to put an effort to his studies, but you, on the contrary, go crazy. You raise your head from your textbooks, look around and begin to realize how much you have missed.
For example, how incredibly smart and interesting it would be, in your fifth year at university, to fall head over heels for your fellow classmate, with whom you share a tiny two-room apartment and a can of cheap beer. 
"That would be fucking cool" you think and immediately begin to work in this direction, and soon enough you actually find yourself in love with Steve Harrington.
That’s why Robin says that if it weren’t for the textbooks, all this shit could have passed painlessly earlier and not destroy your life, but for you everything turns out differently, and you believe that you has the right for your own path. The path of the ninja. The path of the shinobi. The path of the stupid dumb ass idiot.
You are proud of your path and don't regret anything when boys in the university begin to look at you dreamily, and one of them, Billy, even confesses his love to you and gets sick with this viral crap, which was rare then - a couple of cases per hundred people. 
You fall in love with Steve, and you don't care that someone is vomiting flowers because of your disinterest.
You rightly believe that one cannot force a person to reciprocate feeling for someone to whom they cannot and/or does not want to do so. 
You joyfully rush through the soft clouds of inevitable friendzone, but fortunately, at first you have enough brains to do it in silence. Robin, of course, notices something, but Steve remains blissfully unaware that he has become the object of your sudden and growing love. Steve has other things to do - he finally finds a common language with his parents, also doctors in their thirtieth generation, he comes to his senses and dives headlong into science, discovering some - before unexplored - potential for this.
The three of you still lived together, sharing two rooms, and one day you realize that this is not a joke anymore.
You are madly in love with Steve, and now he’s with textbooks and different girls, you know. With one of them even for a very long time: Steve gets together with Nancy in his fifth year (ironically, at about the same time that you decide to fall in love with him) and remains for a long six years.
And at the moment when you and Robin are sitting in the microsurgery resident's office, working night shift, Steve is also with her - apparently on another vacation in Maldives or something like this. 
One can afford this if one's father is the head physician of one of the large hospitals - although it must be admitted, Steve never sought to enjoy such privileges. 
And his parents did not try to help him even while studying at the university. Later, however, his father did hired him to work, but not for his pretty eyes.
When the time comes to choose a specialization, Steve goes to oncology, Robin goes to surgery, and you - after long thinking decide on ophthalmology.
You confess everything to Steve right at the graduation, when it becomes clear that you will most likely either see each other less often or not see each other at all. At that graduation there was a lot of booze, easily accessible weed, a tiny apartment and a tinier balcony where you couldn’t even stand without touching your neighbor.
You are so drunk that you don't give a damn about anything.
You try to kiss him and he pushes you away. That's it.
You got terribly offended, of course, but you never stop loving him. Robs learns about this not even from you, but from Steve himself who, even when drunk, usually remembers everything down to the smallest detail - she finds out and advises you to stop being a fool. 
Laughter is laughter, but a few more years pass, and you begin to vomit daffodils, and it’s no longer funny.
- They’re not daffodils, you blind bitch, - you get angry and take another cookie. - This is a lily.
- Doesn't matter, - Robin rolls her eyes and tries not to show how much the situation worries her more and more. 
If a couple of years ago she considered your love for Steve to be a whim, now that you have inhaled Billy’s flowers and they have sprouted, it becomes clear that this is serious. The seeds simply wouldn't have sprouted out of whim.
– You need to take all the tests, x-rays and fluoroscopy. We need to do something about this. I don’t want to find a flowerbed instead of you one day.
You lean back in your chair and smile strangely. In the dim light of the nightly light of the resident's room the bruises under the eyes seem clearer, the lines of the cheekbones are sharper, - exactly an expressionist painting, especially since just five minutes ago you was fishing a full-fledged large flower out of your throat.
- You, Robs, should think about death easier with your job, - you say calmly. – In my operating room, you know, I have much less chance of encountering it. I can leave you without an eye, but in your room a person can end up being dead.
For some reason Robin shudders at this cynical calm. No, she really has a much simpler attitude towards death, because without this defensive reaction you won’t survive in this business: if you let all the pain and suffering pass through yourself, you can retire with a certificate from a psychiatric hospital. 
But now when she hears something like that from you - a closest friend, almost a sister even - in relation to your own life, it’s at least uncomfortable.
- Why don't you want to have a surgery? – Robin asks quietly once again, even if she knows what she will get in response. 
This is the game already - she asks this question over and over again, and you answers it every time in different ways.
- I’m just wondering how this will all end, - you chuckle, and Robin thinks that fucking daffodils have already sprouted in your brain. Oh sorry, lilies. - But, seriously, Robs. I just don't want it. So that later i will live like a hollow doll? Have you seen Billy? It's not even life. Besides, I always dreamed of dying beautifully, and could there be anything more beautiful than turning into a huge flowerbed?
This is the first time Robin hears this option. Such expression deserves applause. You should have became an actress. And if at the end of the performance no one gives you flowers, you can cough them up for yourself.
- Go through the examination so that you can at least understand the situation, - Robin makes one last attempt, but you are already looking at your phone and scrolling through the Instagram feed, not paying attention to her. - At least an x-ray.
- Did you masturbate recently? - you asks all of a sudden and Robin's confused.
- No?... - the answer sounds like an question.
- Then go fuck yourself, Robin.
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You wake up not from the alarm clock, but from an itch under your ribs that began to torment you in the evening. Having taken a couple of Suprastin pills, you went to bed and had vivid LSD dreams all night, only to collapse at five in the morning from painful scabies.
Lifting your T-shirt in front of the mirror, your discover a bright scarlet pulsating lump on the side of your stomach, just below your ribs, as if you had been stung by a Chernobyl hornet - it hurts and itches, and you simply hate this feeling.
And here you are thinking you just ate too much sweets the night before. You touch the abscess with the tip of your finger, and it itches even more - and as soon as you decides to scratch the skin with nails, the abscess bursts, flaring up with sharp pain, and pours blood onto your stomach along with disheveled white petals protruding from the wound.
- Fuck! - you yell, barely managing to pull off your white T-shirt and cover the wound with your palm. Blood still flows through your fingers, drops fall on the light carpet and laminate, you, groaning, go into the bathroom. - Fucking shit...
You carefully pull out the flower and throw it into the sink, deciding to deal with it later - right now you want to grab the phone and do something nasty. It’s simply impossible to deny yourself this, so you go to Steve’s Instagram and without greetings, in a very adult way, write to him in direct message a short “fucking son of a bitch.”
Of course, you don't receive an answer right away, but the main thing was to express the emotion: if it weren’t for Steve, you wouldn't be standing now in front of the mirror and wondering whether it was possible to cover the hole in your stomach with a band-aid or something else would come out of it again.
Lily, by the way, is gorgeous and neat - and much more larger than those that usually crawl out of the throat. You look at the bloody flower with morbid interest, wash it under the water and places it in a small vase next to the mirror in the bathroom. You still don't know why you do this, but sometimes you directly fight the desire to collect a bouquet for Steve and send it by mail. For this fucker to inhale and get sick. Although it’s unlikely that Steve is unrequitedly in love with someone.
- Listen, maybe I should write an article on this topic, - you say inspiredly, while Robin sits and fills some documents in her office. Your operating day ended, and you apparently came to eat Robin's lunch. - Everyone is romanticizing this shit. It’s like you’re coughing up petals, flowers appear in your ribs, in your lungs, on your wrists. So pretty and mysterious. But you, as a doctor, understand that seeds are distributed throughout the body, and in the intestines, for example, there is a very favorable environment for their germination.
- Babe, I’m not sure I want to know about this at all.
- But Robin! – you are indignant, rolling around the office on a chair and crossing your arms over your chest. – Little snotty girls dream of such beauty in their wet dreams, but no one tells them they will even shit flowers!
Robin puts down her pen and looks at you - and fights the urge to grab you by the scruff of the neck and drag you to the radiologist, then to the ENT specialist, and then to the psychotherapist. No, most likely, first of all, to the psychotherapist. You smile at all thirty-two, and only Robin could see the yearning frozen in your eyes.
- So you’re shitting daffodils, - she clarifies, just in case, - Like a princess.
- Lilies, - you nod. - Like a princess.
You refuse to take tests, because, according to you, you know perfectly well what is happening and at what stage you are.
For such a long period of time you are holding up amazingly well - at work, despite the fact that there are a lot of doctors around (even if they are all only ophthalmologists), no one suspects you are sick.
No one knows about this except Robin, who swears to be silent, and Eddie, and you threatened to squeeze out his eyes if he says a word. You are happy this way - you don't want an audience and a fuss around your condition.
And everything's fine, really. Sometimes thou the ribs hurt, as with neuralgia, and the eyeballs burst from pressure. Then you simply buy more painkillers, Baralgin in ampoules and vasodilating drops. Nothing to worry about... The end is perfectly clear.
A couple of weeks after that conversation, when Robin once again tries to convince you to take care of yourself, Steve, who has been missing for six months, appears and announces that he wants to gather their entire company and classmates. The assumption about the Maldives turns out to be incorrect, Steve tells Robin that he just returned from a scientific symposium in Germany and wants to share all sorts of news.
You are also invited, despite the fact that your correspondence continues to consist of a lonely “fucking son of a bitch” from which you concludes that Steve has forgotten about all the past awkwardness. Or he pretends to forget.
In the end after that graduation you saw each other enough times, and Steve acted normally. You work in the same hospital after all, so it is necessary to maintain adequate relationships - and apparently Steve succeeded in this better than you. In the end, it’s clear which one of you is calling names in the direct messages.
At first, you don't want to go, and Robin agrees, because this gathering definitely won’t make things better. Then you suddenly change your mind and get dress up for the party, despite the fact that Steve is gathering everyone at his house, which means Nancy will be there too.
- If he loved her, - you say with fake joyfulness, checking yourself in the mirror and straightening your black shirt, (because you can’t wear white, the stupid wound would show through. You cover it with a band-aid, it stings, and flowers still sometimes come out.), - He would have married her long ago. Axiom.
Outside you smoke two cigarettes in a row to calm down yourself, and Robin says it’s harmful in your case to smoke at all, but you burst into laughter, brightly, beautifully. It's funny indeed to advise not to smoke to a person who already has bushes instead of lungs. Or in what form do lilies usually bloom? In the bushes, right?
By the time you arrive, there are already a lot of people in the large, cozy apartment, and Steve meets you at the entrance - with a pack of cigarettes in his hand, because he was also apparently planning to go out to smoke. You meet his eyes, like in a shitty melodrama, and freeze.
And usually people say that the eyes of their beloved are pretty, bottomless, bright and all this shit, but you see them in different way. The position of the eyeball is correct, movements are full, free, eyelids are adjacent, eyelash growth is correct. The lacrimal apparatus is without any features, the conjunctiva is pale pink and clean.
- Hi, - Steve hugs you both and doesn’t notice with what morbid interest you are staring at him. - Come on in, guys, good to see you. Everyone is already here, we were waiting for you. Or you wanna smoke first?
You purses your lips and squeezes past Steve, and only God knows (and Robin, probably) how much effort it takes you not to look at Steve anymore and generally pretend that everything is fine.
Flowers react to their creator: throat tightens, and it becomes more difficult to breathe, head becomes heavy, and a grass taste rises up the throat, as if you were chewing hay half an hour ago, and now it wants back outside.
The company is just right, Nancy is beautiful and smiling, and for you the main goal of the evening become not to behave decently there, but at least not to suffocate, because as soon as Steve appears in sight, your body begins to prepare for mating dances.
- If you go throw up, don’t forget to clean up the flowers - Robin leans towards your ear and tugs on the leather necklace around your neck. - Or maybe don't. Who the hell knows, maybe if Steve will understand everything, you’ll at least talk about this?
An enraged look in response lets Robin know that you are not going to talk with Steve on this topic, although life has other plans this evening: during a general conversation Steve, hugging Nancy sitting next to him says, that he, as a part of a research group, began to develop non-surgical therapy for the flower virus.
Well, who would have thought.
You choke on your drink and look up at Steve for the first time this evening.
- Really? – The voice soaked with defiant causticity when you pretend to grin, while feeling as if you had swallowed a piece of ice. - How is it going?
Steve shines like a fucking garland, hugs his Nancy and really seems to think that he is busy with fucking important and useful work. No, maybe it really is important and useful, but you want to scream.
- We are at the initial stage, - Steve joyfully answers and spreads his hands wide, as if showing how ambitious the researchers’ plans are. It’s not like you, eye-healers, sitting there raking the specks out of people's eyes, or whatever you’re doing there. Oh, yes, you treat cataracts for old ladies. – It is necessary to understand what factors influence the fact that human interferon is not able to resist the virus. Animals do not get sick from it; experiments have shown this more than once. So there's a high chance of identifying antidotal substances sooner or later.
- Wow, cool, - you inertly clap you hands and get up, grabbing a pack of Marlboros. Why doesn’t such an apartment have a balcony, what a joke? - This is a very honorable thing. Keep me updated.
Steve seems to be saying something else, but you are no longer listening to him, going out onto the staircase, and Robin is generally surprised that you didn’t leave earlier. It was clear that your nerves were already on edge, and when the topic of the virus came up, that was it, the last straw and it became obvious that you couldn’t hold on any longer. But no, you even saved your face.
What a brave little girl.
Steve, however, after a minute goes after you, as if sensing something - or finally recognizing a liter of expressed poison in the sarcastic tone. You actually stand on the stairs and smoke, leaning on the railing, and look down at the opening between the floors, as if wondering if you can jump there. The problem is that you will most likely survive. Not an option. And it will be ugly too.
- What’s wrong with you? - Steve doesn’t put on a jacket, he goes out in just a T-shirt, striking a lighter. You hear his voice and grimace. - You sat there all evening like something got your panties in a twist.
You turn around and make an apologetic face innocently, mockingly, although you're shaking either from anger or from resentment (at Steve, at yourself, at the idiotic situation), and you try to hide your trembling hands in your pockets.
- And you're an expert on panties, right? - You hate yourself for this attitude, like a child in the kindergarten, but it’s difficult to control yourself because there is an increasing ache between your ribs, and it hurts so hard that you want to bend in half. You already got used to Ketorol, and the painkillers need to be changed. Fucking flowers, fucking painkillers, fucking Steve.
He opened his mouth to answer, but you finally bent over at the most inopportune moment, because you had been holding back all evening, you even persuaded Robin to give you baralgin in your vein so that there would be a block for at least a few hours - and now the block's over, and after it the attacks are always stronger. You cough exasperatedly, grabbing the railing, covering your mouth with your hand in horror, realizing that you can't stop flowers from coming out now.
Indeed the cough pushes another bloody flower into the palm of your hand, and you recoils from Steve rushing towards you - he turns pale, turns green (and he calls himself a doctor?), seeing the blood on your fingers, looks at you with genuine horror, while you are already quite indifferently walking towards the garbage can and throw away the flower.
You take paper napkins from your pocket and wipe your hands. All this in silence, without a single word, because what's the point of talking now anyway. And it’s unlikely that Steve, who recently started to explore this virus, won’t understand what happend. You don't have to be a researcher to understand what's going on here when a girl in front of you starts to cough a huge flower.
- Y/n, what the fuck is that? - you're amused because you have never heard such a tone from Steve. Scared, worried. - What the fuck is this? What the fuck is happening?
You even look at him with interest, wondering in what other variations you will hear this simple question. Steve's hands are shaking, like a heroin addict suffering from withdrawal symptoms, while he tries to shake one more cigarette out of his pack. Or an explanation of what's going on.
- Who is this, huh? – Steve whispers, while you send the bloody napkins after the flower into the garbage can. - Why don’t you...
− Who? – you don't know whether to laugh or cry, and therefore choose neutral and theatrically press your hands to your chest. Seriously, Steve is dumb even in this situation and can't put two and two together. – Are you serious, Steve? You should drink some glycine. Fish oil, or what other vitamins do we need to keep our head working? You need them, you want to invent a cure from this disease after all, yeah? As you already understood, I’m interested.
(You're not)
- Stop with this shit, - Steve clutches a cigarette in his teeth and, taking a step towards you grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you roughly, in order to somehow bring you to your senses. Although he's the one who needs to put himself together here - he is pale, eyes opened wide, his fingers are trembling, you feel it. - Fucking answer me!
And you are generally so happy all of a sudden that you look at Steve, bowing your head to the side like a bird, and don't feel shy anymore to openly glance over his face - there is slight stubble on his cheeks, his lips are bitten, chapped, his eyebrows are furrowed, eyes angry.
For you Steve is incredibly handsome, and this made it difficult to breathe even without flowers.
- Okay, since you insist so much, I’ll answer all of your questions, - you say and carefully disentangles yourself from his strong grip. - Who is it? You. Am I kidding? No. Has it started a long time ago? Yes. Why don't I have surgery? I don't want to. That's it. Can I go now, I have to get up early for work tomorrow?
Steve becomes numb, unable to utter a word, and you can be proud of yourself because you didn't start to cry and looked decent in this whole unfortunate situation.
- You’re joking, - Steve says helplessly.
You roll your eyes.
- Stop, I told you, I'm serious. And as you can see, all these years i haven’t said anything, and I wouldn’t have said anything further if I hadn’t gotten myself outed like an idiot today. Steve, let's not talk about this, shall we? Please.
You stop acting tough, like you don't care at all - you become serious, a little tired, you ask sincerely, and this completely drives Steve into a dead end. You go back to the flat to pick up your jacket, nod goodbye to all the friends and even Nancy, and then go down the stairs, waving to Steve.
He burns himself with the second cigarette in a row and swears under his breath.
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Steve can't sleep all night, and the next morning he immediately calls Robin, as soon as the acceptable time for this comes - he even doesn’t care that she is at work. He tries to bombard her with questions because he is sure that Robin knows everything - and he's right; he doesn’t hold back, he accuses and freaks out, like, what the hell, but Robs doesn’t appreciate his yelling.
- Don't, Steve - she says sternly, and this tone somehow makes Steve quiet. – I wouldn’t tell you anything, because I don’t have the right to do so. This is not my secret. And you know her as well as I do.  Once she has gotten something into her head, it is impossible to change her mind.  And yes, I’ve been fighting for six months now to get her to do surgery.
- Robin, let’s meet today, yeah? Fuck, I have to know everything, - Steve starts once again, and Robin has to agree. - I can’t do this, I can’t just leave it like that. I do care about her for fuck sake!
He tells Nancy some nonsense to get away from home for the whole day, because his chaotic thoughts are making his head swell. He meets Robin only at lunch, she promised to get out of the hospital, and Steve has a lot of time, which he spends sitting in a cafe and mindlessly studying your profile on Instagram. 
You post beautiful photos and selfies and Steve would never believe that this pretty girl, flawless on every photograph, covers up bruises under her eyes in the morning and picks flowers out of abscesses.
Steve has already written more than one article on this virus and doesn't romanticize it at all, and he can only wonder how do you manage to hide everything from everyone for such a long period of time? 
He opens the recent photo in your profile, you are looking at him, photographed against the background of a plain wall with lilies in hands. And Steve isn't sure you bought these flowers.
Conversation with Robin doesn’t make the situation better.
- Don't blame yourself, - says Robin, - It’s her decision, and it’s not your fault that this happened because of you. She didn’t blame herself at all while Billy walked around half-dead.
- But he had surgery, - Steve says quietly, and Robin nods. - What kind of... What kind of flowers are those anyway?
- Looks like daffodils. I don't know.
- Daffodils, - Steve smiles sadly, awkwardly, and this immediately makes Robin uncomfortable, as if she has inserted into someone else’s life without asking, even thou they both are her best friends. - It fits her.
And just like that, the puzzle comes together: strange behavior and name-calling in the Instagram direct message. This is you, and in general this explains a lot.
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Before the operating day you always go to bed early, because there can be two or ten operations, and even though most of them are trivial and quick, an attempt to screw up can cost someone an eye. On an operating day a clear head and a steady hand are especially needed, and you even allow yourself to take half of phenazepam in the evening in order to sleep better.
The fact that you will have to urgently call to work and ask to be replaced becomes clear in the very first second, when you, waking up in the middle of the night, can't open your eyes - a sharp pain radiates to your head, as if sharp blades had been shoved under the eyelids.
You growl through your teeth and roll out of bed, starting to rummage around in the bedside table - you have a bunch of different eye drops piled up there, and in order to even open your eyes normally and see what happened, you have to pour in a freezer. A quick examination in the mirror shows swollen eyelids, bright red sclera and bloody discharge - your fingers tremble when you pull back the lower eyelid and see several tiny white flowers there.
A perfect small copy. The anger takes over instantly and doesn't let go - you smash a vase in the bathroom and desperately scream.
You drip some useless antiviral to calm your soul, then add Broxinac. 
You even call your colleague and lie about viral conjunctivitis, after that you're running circles around the apartment and kicking chairs and armchairs. This is already a knife in the back. You wasn’t ready for such crap, even if you assumed that these fucking flowers would sooner or later come out of the eyes too.
To be honest you just hoped to die before this happened. You once again go to the bathroom, rake out tiny buds from under the eyelids, drip more anesthesia and go back to bed, turning off the phone. Today is your day off.
"And don’t fucking call me", you write to Steve on Instagram before falling asleep, and it’s not like Steve was gonna call.
When college ends and that graduation takes place, at which you, having interrupted Steve mid-sentence in a conversation on the balcony, lean forward and kiss him, freezing - Steve is so lost. It takes about ten seconds to realize what happened, and for all these ten seconds you study his lips with your own, and only then you recoil, pressing your palms to your chest.
Steve pushes you more out of confusion than out of anger; he doesn’t control his hands at all then - and it’s not like he’s very drunk. It’s you who usually gets wasted from one glass of wine, and Steve is more experienced, and he always remembers everything to the last detail.
You look at him helplessly and run out of the balcony and out of the apartment in general, before Steve can say a word.
Then you both try hard to pretend that nothing happened, and at some point Steve begins to think that it was just your incomprehensible joke. Now, when Steve remembers these white flowers, he belatedly realizes how stupid he was for thinking it was just a jock, he realizes his brain gave him a perfect excuse to not look any deeper into that event and most importantly he realizes you both needed to talk about it right after the kiss happend.
"Good job, Steve", he thinks gloomily and gives himself sarcastic applause. "Talking went well".
There were always a lot of people around Steve, and even if not all of them were friends, there were plenty of acquaintances. And they say, every friend is for something special - there is a friend to play football with them and watch the Champions League, there is a friend to go on a double date with the girls, there is a friend from whom you can copy homework when you didn't have time to do it. And you were a friend for soul, and Steve would be lying if he denied that you were his favorite friend.
You always lived in some kind of 4D world of your own, beautiful as unicorn's snot, complex and unusual, and therefore especially cool - and you were as cool as these unicorn's snot, which once upon a time helped Voldemort get back on his feet. You were helping Steve in the same way and sometimes didn’t even suspect it.
Steve could always come to you, lie down by your side and start whining about how he got rejected by yet another girl; you, without looking up from your textbook, were laughing and saying that the time would come, and some princess would definitely fall in love with him. Steve remembers that conversation now and grins - well, yes, you were right. The princess indeed fell in love with him.
Steve never hid the fact that he adores you from the tips of your fingers to your very fucked up jokes. Steve never had a problem admitting his admiration for anyone, and you were a perfect subject for this - Steve admired almost everything about you. Intelligence, thinking, an understanding of the world, puns that are stupid to the point of genius, the beaded handwriting, calligraphic, doesn't even look like a doctor’s handwriting at all.
Laughter, which Steve could listen to instead of a lullaby, and also bright soft eyes under long and fluffy eyelashes. Steve sincerely admired you and never considered it something more than a friendship. He laughed at your every phrase, waited with his mouth open for your stories and loved spending his free time with you. You were his favorite friend, and when it all ended like that, Steve felt empty.
No, he had already matured, and like a real big boy, he accepted the understanding that sometimes this happens - paths diverge, people come and go, but he didn't think, honestly didn’t think and was not ready, that you would leave his life just like that. You, whom he visited every damn evening before that fucking graduation, and lay next to you, talking non-stop about everything that was in his head and leaning towards the palm that stroked his hair.
You both were twenty-three, everything was so right and natural, and Steve never thought that it could be otherwise. Now you are twenty-eight, and he doesn’t know what he can do to fix anything.
To be honest, he is still ready to be the one to blame for everything, if only you would agree to accept his help.
You, as expected, don't answer his calls, although you appear online in almost all messengers - most likely, you either blocked him or simply ignore him, and Steve, after meeting his father in the main building, goes to microsurgery, deciding to wait until the end of the working day.
There's basically only an hour left, and Steve sits down on a bench along the alley, looking around furtively and lighting a cigarette - actually, he's not allowed to smoke here, but right now it's vital for him.
- Jonathan, hi, man, - he exhales a stream of smoke, waiting for Byers to pick up the phone. - Are you busy? I have to distract you. Tell me, are you working with those patients now? Regarding our research, I mean.
He met Byers back when they found themselves in a target research group for the development of non-surgical therapy, and immediately became friends. And if Steve doesn't deal with patients and operations, studying the theory, then Jonathan works directly with patients - judging by his reports, dozens of people with flowers in their bodies pass through his hands every month.
- Of course, Steve. Just had another surgery today. The woman with metastases. What's the question?
- Tell me, - Steve says slowly, – Are there any official mechanisms that force patients to undergo treatment?
Jonathan is silent for a long time, clearly seriously considering the question.
- No, dude. It’s the same as with any other disease, we can't force anyone to undergo treatment. You haven’t seen anyone with cancer or HIV being forced to do so, right? Many even refuse to do retroviral therapy. It’s the same here, - Byers rustles something in the background. - The only thing is that if it's teenagers, a psychologist can work with them and try to convince them. Why, you got a pubescent girl suffering from unrequited love?
Steve gloomily grimaces.
- A grown ass woman with a medical education.
- Oh, well, - Steve almost can see how Jonathan shrugs in surprise. - It seems like a choice, I'm afraid. The main thing is that if she will suddenly change her mind and want to undergo surgery, it will be very difficult in the last stages. Many doctors don't even agree to do it. But to fully understand the situation, I at least need to see the flowers.
Steve lowers his head, examining the cigarette pressed into the asphalt, and is silent for a long time, closing his eyes. There is very little time left before the end of the working day, and he needs to catch you before you see him and run away again.
- Well, hello, - Steve barely manages to grab you by the elbow as you rush down the alley and pull you towards himself so that you almost fall on top of him. You look angrily from under your brows and dark glasses. - Don't run away. Are you okay?
He notices that the sun is gone, it’s a gloomy autumn outside, it’s cold October, and dark glasses clearly seem unnecessary.
- Never been better, - you spit out and try to free yourself, but if Steve has grabbed onto something like a tick, then he can’t be torn off. - What do you want from me? I need to go home.
- And we’ll go, - Steve agrees and jingles his car keys. - Don’t worry.
Not paying attention to all the bickering, Steve puts you in the car, no longer even asks you to take off your glasses, because he understands that you're hiding something. You spend the entire way home in silence, and you generally turn away and look out the window, just not to look at him, who, on the contrary, does nothing but stare. You even snap and ask him to stop looking. It’s good that your eyes have gotten better today, although in between patients you ran to the toilet a couple of times to cry with flowers - you swore and watched as they, so tiny that they could be washed straight into the sink, stuck to the ceramics.
Steve follows you into the apartment without an invitation, although you silently try to push him out - in melodramas the characters make eye contact and freeze, but in reality you almost get into a fight just in case. Steve, having gotten angry, simply shoves you into the hallway and slams the door behind you both.
- Calm down, - he advises almost threateningly and points towards the bathroom. - Otherwise I’ll have to put you in the cold shower. Maybe you can at least make me some tea, idiot?
You look at him like a wolf and silently go to the kitchen, hit the button on the kettle, slam the cabinet doors, taking out tea and snacks. You loudly slam the refrigerator door, move chairs as if they were made of stone, put cups on the table, trying, as it feels, to break them. Steve trains breathing techniques and enters the kitchen already calm, catching you by the hand and forcing you to stop.
- Thank you, - he says softly, nodding at the cups with hot tea. It’s already October outside, it’s cold, and his fingers are numb. - Y/n, stop and listen to me. No, I said, listen, don’t try to interrupt me.
You immediately feel as if you are a teenage girl and you stand in front of the boy you like, looking at him with wide eyes, unable to say a word - only you are now standing in front of Steve, who has sat down on a chair and is holding your hands in his, not allowing you to escape. 
- I have a good friend who deals with these issues, - Steve begins and hurries to continue, because you are obviously starting to go furious. - Please, let’s just at least consider this option.
- Jesus, leave me alone, for God’s sake, -  you pull your hands away, but Steve catches them again, looking into your face - you are still so pretty. No, much more pretty than you were five years ago, your age incredibly suits you. Although Steve's not sure what is age and what is disease. - Shove your pity up your ass, Steve. I don't need it. And if you feel guilty, I will write in my will that you have nothing to do with it. I’ll write - "if you thought I was in love with Steve Harrington and it's all his fault, then no, I wasn't and it's not." Are you happy now?
Steve looks at you skeptically, and it is very clear what he thinks about this. You feel almost unbearable urge to slap him.
- You know what? Yeah, - Steve agrees unexpectedly easily. - This will be quite enough. The most important thing is that no one, God forbid, thinks that you were in love with me, otherwise everyone will think it's my fault you died. Be sure to write it, I beg you. I guess I can go now. I'm very glad you understood me.
And he gets up just like that, smiling and waving, only bowing is missing, and before you have time to react to his little show, Steve grabs you by the shoulders and shakes you like a kitten - he looks so angry, as if he could gnaw your throat with his teeth and not even choke. You involuntarily calm down and look helplessly, begin to cough meaningfully, because your breathing is short again, and your ribs begin to ache.
- Stop this fucked up shit, for fuck's sake, - Steve hisses, spitting out the words in your face in such way that you really want to run your palm over your skin and take them off. - Stop thinking I don’t give a fuck about you, that I don’t give a fuck about what's happening to you. Although I understand that it's so convenient. And so pleasant, right, fucking drama queen? Let me at least do something for you.
You smile, gesturing for Steve to move away, turn away and cough, bending over the sink - you immediately wash everything off, wipe your lips and drink a glass of water in one gulp to soothe your itchy throat. You wipe your hands for a long time, then look up at Steve - you finally took off your glasses, and he sees that your eyes were bloodshot and eyelids were swollen.
- What do you want? Or rather, what can you do?
- Something, - Steve answers and suddenly pulls you to him, hugs you, buries his nose in your hair, taking advantage of his height, and closes his eyes; you fall completely silent, feeling Steve pressing you tightly to himself, not giving you a single chance to escape. - Just at least don’t tell me to go away. I don’t care what you think about pity and about the fact that I feel guilty. I just miss you.
And you understand what Steve is talking about - you miss him, too, since the time that you didn't communicate normally, since the time Steve pushed you away on the balcony after a kiss, since the time you became strangers.
While Steve hugs you tightly and doesn’t let you go, the flowers don’t tear your chest from the inside so much.
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Robin unironically loves to come to microsurgery in her free time and sit in the corner of the examination room, watching you work.
In addition to the fact that patients of all ages - young and old (mostly male) sincerely consider you the most wonderful doctor in the world, you really do your job perfectly - despite the fact that you spent the last years of the university under the banner of a love-struck brain. Yes, even though you occupied both hemispheres of your brain with your love for Steve at that time, you, out of habit, didn't stop being a swot. It's just that Steve suddenly became one too.
Until the fourth year, to be honest, the words “symposium” and “Steve Harrington” simply couldn't be imagined in one sentence. Robin has suspicions that you played a significant role in Steve’s changes - you two literally spent all the time together at that time.
Robin squeezes past a line of patients jostling with plump cards with medical histories, and sits down on a tiny chair in the corner - you, standing in the pose of a thinker next to another granny, don’t even notice her.
- Sweetie, I can’t see the last line very well...
- Missis... - you look at the patient card, habitually adjusting the glasses on your nose. - Johnson, please! I've never seen the last line in my life. And I’m not even eighty-three yers old. Don't anger God!
- Doctor, I don’t sleep well at night, - complains another woman.
- I can offer you to work one shift at the hospital with me, - you write down the assignment on the card and hand it to her. - Go to the treatment room.
You are tired of explaining that in microsurgery you don't treat insomnia at all.
− Drip three times a day by the hour according to this scheme. What? What if you mess up the order? Well, I don't know. Perhaps then this will be the last time we see each other. Or rather the last time you see me.
- Yes, two weeks of injections! Yes, imagine, they are also made into the eyes. How? With a needle, obviously, what's so shocking?
- Yes, it might hurt. What did you want to hear from me? That it doesn't hurt? So that you will get disappointed in me later?
Robin, honestly, wouldn’t want to get to you for treatment, but loves to observe how you treat others - the sympathy and compassion in you is at the level zero, of course, and this attitude has the right to exist, because otherwise you will lose your mind.
Robin waits for the end of the reception time, doesn't refuse herself the pleasure of sitting in the procedure, while you make all the injections - confident and accurately, the hand won't flinch, even if the World War lll starts right now.
Robin gets chills when she watches all this: she's a surgeon, saw a lot of messed up things in her life, but eye operations - thank you, but no, thank you. Robin is capable of everything except contemplation of the process of ophthalmic operations.
The working hours end, and you both return to the examination room, because you complain about the bright light, and in there it is always dim. Today you came to work early, caught the boy from the diagnostics and asked to do an optical tomography for you - you had to pay for the his silence, and not only with a charming smile.
As you expected, the flower shoots caused retinal detachment.
You sit on a chair against the wall, lowering your shoulders, and throw back your head, resting the back of it against the wall - your throat moves heavily and unevenly under your skin. Now, in the dim light of the observation room, Robin sees how much you have changed in recent months.
The skin seems to have thinned, become completely grey, the veins are translucent, and they are so dark. The eyelashes cast almost sepulchral shadows on the cheekbones, and the sleeve of the pullover under the robe rode up, revealing a tightly bandaged wrist. Robin reaches out and takes it, examining - even through the dense layers of fabric the relief of the growing stems is visible.
- Rob, - you suddenly begin to speak, and Robin involuntarily leans forward to not lose a single quiet word. Probably, for once, you stop performing comedy on your improvised stage in a one-person theater.
- You love too, I know. You love Vicky. But I also know that this is a different love.
You don’t pull out your hand - the sprouts that are growing under the skin are tightly bandaged, and Robin isn't able to touch them. The more layers, the safer.
- I have different kind of love for him. You know, when I got a job here, one of the first patients I came across was a difficult one, a young girl. I didn’t cure her, it was a difficult case, but the situation somehow got better, under control. And she’s been coming to me to check her eyes for three years now — every single week. She's scared and at the slightest thing she comes straight to me for check up.
You smile, chuckle, and close your eyes.
- I’m not angry with her - it’s hard not to be afraid when you already have only one eye left. And then recently she started coming every other day, we treated her allergies. And she, apparently, is worried that she’s bothering me, and she apologized for this yesterday, and then she says so, fake cheerfully, “Doctor, I’m your cross, accept me as it is.”
Robin feels like she's about to cry. Every person has their own drama.
- And I accept it, - you say and smile - your throat, scratched from the inside, aches, and the words sound barely audible. - Just like I accept this love for Steve. I often get angry about this, I often think it would be better if I had never fallen in love, I often straight up hate him because I'm already so tired of being sick. I mean, I’m just really fucking tired of it, no bullshit. But I love this love because it makes me me.
You rub your tired, reddened eyes, reach for the shelf with medicines to drop more ophthalmoferon.
- I never thought I was capable of this. To feel like this, to love like this. That's what it's like. That's what Taylor Swift sang about. That's why they lost their minds and fought the wars.
What Taylor Swift sings about love is the last thing Robin thinks about when her friend is choking on the lilies.
- The good thing about the situation is that it gives you a choice, - you say, putting your hand on Robin’s shoulder, squeezing your fingers, encouraging. You support her as if it shouldn’t be the other way around. - And I chose. Chose to be myself.
And you don’t look unhappy at all now, except that same yearning is frozen in your eyes, but you have gotten used to that too. It is there fused with the iris with adhesions and vessels, it has made its way under the edges of the retina with green stems.
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- Steve, I understand that you’re nervous, but that won’t make me shit you a magical pill, - Jonathan is obviously annoyed, and Steve can hear it even over the phone. - Your screams don’t help much with our work, you know. You are a member of the group just like me, and you know no more no less, than me.
Steve sighs heavily and looks out of the window to check the road - you have a day off today, but you don't answer his calls, and this makes him nervous.
Nancy, of course, grimaced when Steve, instead of spending the day with her, got into the car and rushed to "some friend".
Her wording made Steve so pissed that he chose not to continue the conversation.
- Fuck, I’m sorry, dude, - he said reluctantly. - It’s just that I’m here with my family for a couple of months anyway, I won’t be able fly to Germany now, so I feel like I’m missing out on everything.
And it seems that the last thing he means by saying this is working on therapy.
- There are no other options now, - Jonathan repeats for the hundredth time, and Steve stops the car at your house. - Either surgery, or you know. No one has yet come up with a better interferon than reciprocity.
"And sometimes it seems there will be no other cure at all" - the words hang unspoken in the air.
You open the door after Steve ringed the bell three times, disheveled, sleepy and desperately yawning - and stare at pissed Steve as he squeezes into the apartment.
- I'm not even gonna ask what the fuck, y/n.
- I was sleeping, - you answer, and then your face lights up with understaning. - What, did you think I died? In your dreams!
Steve barely restrains himself from shaking you angerly by the shoulders, but to see you smiling like this means to forgive everything in the world, including Steve's fucked-up nerves. Since that evening, you see each other, if not every day, then often enough for Steve to understand what is happening to you, and even though his observations don’t exactly please him, the relationship between you becomes almost the same as before.
During these long and short meetings, you stubbornly don't say anything about your condition, although Steve has enough experience to understand for himself how serious everything is - you ignore all questions. And even now, having scared the crap out of Steve, you quite calmly go to prepare breakfast. Steve, sitting on a chair, watches you incessantly, and you eventually can't stand it.
- What, are you eating yourself alive now?
- I am, - agrees Steve, shrugging his shoulders, - Are you?
- I’m not, - you answer and, turning around, suddenly extend your hand to Steve, and when he takes it, you come closer and look seriously, as if cutting him open with your eyes. - Steve, no one is to blame for this. Everything is fair. I didn't want to fall in love with you, but i did it anyway. And you didn’t want to hurt me, but you did it anyway. It’s not your fault that I fell in love with you, and it’s not my fault that I don’t want to turn into a plant after the operation.
Fuck, what a pun.
- I regret I didn’t have enough brain to talk to you back then, - Steve freezes when you very carefully touch his eyelids, slightly faded light eyelashes, and the thin skin under his eyes with your fingertips. - Maybe something would have turned out differently.
- No, - you simply answer. - It wouldn’t have. I'm a fatalist, Steve. It is what it is. There is a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them. By the way, your eyelid is inflamed, might be the stye.
Steve is completely lost for a second, and then he laughs loudly, honestly, throwing his head back - as only he can; and you smile too, even if you don’t understand what he finds so funny.
- You’re still the same, - he says, laughing. - The most unexpected person on Earth.
Steve is fooling around as if you both are twenty-two again, you are not throwing up huge lilies, and you two are just skipping physical education to prepare for microbiology. No one kissed anyone, no one pushed anyone away, no one abandoned anyone; no one loved anyone...
Steve interferes you with doing breakfast, steals muffins from the refrigerator and smears himself with them, stuffing his mouth full and constantly getting in your way - you curse, drop the spatula, kick him out of the kitchen, to which you receive only laughter in response. And you can't help but smile, forgetting about everything that ultimately brought you two closer again. It’s just that Steve is here now, and you feel a little bit better.
Steve looks at you, catches every smile and every gesture - and thinks that since then, his feels towards you hasn't changed at all. This is the same honest admiration for you - from your smile to your fingertips - absolutely everything you say and do;
- I missed you so fucking much, - he whispers and doesn’t even understand why he’s pulling you closer to him, but he doesn’t even think about holding back. - Shhh, don’t twitch, I’m just sniffing the hair. It smells nice.
Yeah, like fucking lilies.
You let yourself go, allowing yourself to forget about everything - and reach out to Steve, without resisting your desires, emotions, your cross; the flowers inside open up, rustling with huge white petals, filling your chest - it feels like flower smell comes from your lips instead of breathing. And for once it doesn't hurt.
You talk about everything and nothing again, like before, drink tea and you, sitting on the window sill of the balcony, press your shoulder close to Steve, not because it’s cold, but because you want to.
Steve laughs at every joke you say, typically a doctor's ones. You laugh because he does, rest your forehead on his shoulder, and your shoulders shake with laughter.
Steve hugs them with one hand, squeezes his fingers on your waist.
- We can have sex, if you want? - Steve either goes all in or is a complete idiot.
You feel so good right now that you don’t even think about these words and motives, and there’s a smile in your eyes when you playfully bite your lip - you have nothing to lose. A biblical garden blooms inside you, and your mouth in the morning is not filled with oral sex, but with huge snow-white buds.
- Not now, - you laugh, throwing back your head and exposing your neck, and it should be kissed all over, bitten, licked along every veins, and Steve thinks he’s going crazy. - It will be the most fucked up moment in my life if flowers will come out of my pussy.
It’s like Steve is twenty-two again, and he is crazy about you – from your fingertips to the stupidest of jokes.
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When Steve has to fly away for two weeks, his insides clench with irrational panic, and he calms himself only by thinking that they have a trial radiotherapy test scheduled. He first demands, then asks and - in the end - begs you not to ignore his calls and messages, and in the end simply asks Robin to be in touch with him.
She is still trying to resist that it's your right not to answer if you don't want to, but Steve starts yelling. And when Steve yells, any arguments stop working.
However, you answer him every day, and Steve holds his breath every time he sends a message.
"How are you?"
In each such question there is more honesty than in the mile-long messages that Nancy demands from him. Steve grinds his teeth, aggressively typing answers for her, while he checks his WhatsApp every minute and doesn’t see himself from the outside when he gets another selfie from you from work - your crooked grin against the backdrop of some bloody post-operative rags. His face cracks with a smile so much that Jonathan pushes him on the shoulder - put yourself together, dude.
Only now, having found you in his life again, Steve realizes how much he missed you. And he can't believe that all this is happening to you two, this whole stupid fairy tale; and if you hadn’t covered your mouth with your palms in an attempt to hold back the flowers bursting out, risking suffocation, Steve would have laughed.
He would have laughed that this is not about you, that it’s not happening to both of you, that you’re kidding, there are no fucking daffodils.
- Lilies! - you bark into the phone when Steve, having mixed up time zones, calls you in the middle of the night. - Is it really that hard to remember?
As long as you answer him, everything is fine, and Steve tries not to think that one day you may not answer not because you try to piss him off by ignoring him.
After one of the working days, you come to Robin’s department and say you took a sick leave - and conceal the fact that you had an attack today right during the patient check up, and you barely managed to give an injection with trembling fingers, almost piercing the patient’s cornea. Robin understands everything without words, because you continually scratch your itchy wrists and wheeze with a hoarse throat. You can't put patients at risk.
But you take pen and paper and write your love story in the article “Pathological changes in the retina of the eye in the extreme stages of the flower virus.” And every now and then you begin to take an article to Robin for editing, because you are also a graphomaniac - if inspiration suddenly comes, you write non-stop, but are too lazy to re-read it.
You again plunge into science headlong, describing yourself from the reflection in the mirror and white sheets of paper with the results of ultrasound, biomicroscopy and optical tomography - there tiny green stems make their way through the tissue. You smile, looking at the studies, trying to understand the techniques of possible operations that you, of course, won't make on yourself. This takes up almost all of your free time, and you come to Robin with a heap of papers and a burning gaze, as if you weren't the one getting paler every day - and sleeping less and less, because you were choking with an annoying cough.
- Y/n, - Steve calls again in the middle of the night, but you are not sleeping. You smile, watching Steve almost poke his nose on the screen, trying to take a closer look at you. - Y/n, radiotherapy gives the first results on infected cells.
You don’t even listen to him - yes, of course, all of this is very important, but not for a person who already has more flowers in her body than blood, who almost has flowers instead of blood flowing through her veins. It's autumn outside, cold November, and you think this is the most suitable month to turn into a biblical garden in your bed.
- Steve, - you whisper, interrupting, don’t listen to Steve’s explanation. - Steve, will you come back soon?
He falls silent, looking at the screen strangely - as if he wants to reach out, to touch, but the fucking technology will not let do that soon, if ever. Steve would give any money in the world right now just to teleport to your room in one second. He chuckles silently, thinking what a fool he was for wasting so much time.
Although how would he have understood anything, if you hadn’t been taken away from him now, torn from his hands?
- Soon, - he answers quietly. - I'll be back soon.
- I'll be waiting.
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Steve fights with Nancy, when in the heat of the moment she shouts something about you and "his stupid friends" - Steve is shaking with anger, and it’s easier to just hastily grab his jacket and get out. He just had arrived and there was already a scandal - and especially on the topic of you, the mention of which makes Steve see red.
Steve doesn’t understand what is happening to him, but desperately doesn’t want to admit it's all because of guilt. Steve can't get enough of you, he wants to eat you, drink you, consume you until he faints, everything’s not enough for him, what has a fucking guilt to do with it?
It was always like this with you.
You are his favorite friend, and your condition is now more important than Nancy's tantrums.
On the threshold Steve silently grabs you in his arms, hugging you tightly, almost until your ribs crack – you wheeze and utter a strangled "Steve, let me go, I'm gonna throw up flowers on you”, flutters weakly and bury your nose into his neck, tickling it with light breath.
- Throw up, - Steve agrees, finally smiling as only he can: wide, infectious, sincere - this smile warms you to the point of burns. - From head to toe, I don't care.
Steve feels such relief seeing you again, even if he feels with his hands almost every protruding bone of your body - now, it seems, you can be broken with any careless gesture. Steve doesn’t explain anything, silently hands you a huge bouquet of multi-colored socks and sits down on an ottoman in the hallway, showing anticipation with all his appearance.
- Sorry, I decided not to buy flowers, you already have plenty of 'em. Now get dressed. Let's go for a walk.
Steve watches you pull on a huge sweater, pants torn at the knees, and spend a long time spinning in front of the mirror. Then you hide in the bathroom, swallow some pills and come out, almost up to your ears in a scarf. Steve distantly thinks that you are still somehow incredibly pretty - even with those dark shadows under your eyes.
Steve puts you in the car in the front seat, chats incessantly, doesn't explain where you are going - he only stops by for coffee for you two.
Steve himself doesn’t know where he’s going, just wants to get some distraction, out of town, to breathe in the fresh evening air, because you keep opening the window to take a deep breath. You are suffocating, even if you try not to show it, and your eyes itch, they itch so much, you want to take them out and insert new ones.
- I have a guitar there, in the trunk, - Steve says suddenly, when you drive a couple of miles from the city. - Come on. Like at the university?
- You still remember how to play? - you snort, looking at him funny.
- Muscle memory.
And Steve really still knows how to play. You leave the highway along the edge of some field that goes down to a small river. Steve takes out a guitar and a blanket for you from the trunk, and both of you sit down on a fallen tree.
Steve plays a very simple melody, and you finish your coffee and wrap yourself in a blanket like a caterpillar - just about to turn into a butterfly. You can finally breathe easier: either with help of the evening air away from the city, or with Steve very close to you, shoulder to shoulder.
At the university you all loved to spend the evenings before exams like this - with a guitar and cider; that time there were no white doctor's coats, operating gloves, fucking flowers and broken hearts. Robin is smart, Robin is a surgeon, she says there are no broken hearts, there can be all sorts of pathologies, defects and insufficiencies, but not cracks, and you must understand this - you are also a doctor after all.
- I’m an eye doctor, this is different, - you say out loud to your thoughts - completely by accident. - Microsurgeon. Which means I might have broken heart.
Steve looks up at you, never ceasing to pluck the strings with his fingers.
- Robin says so, - you explain. - Like, you can’t have a broken heart, it’s all nonsense, you are a doctor! And I assert there can’t be hearts in the eyes, because it’s fucking impossible. In the eyes only the sclera, cornea, iris and pupil are visible - and the limbus, if you look closely. But a broken heart is different.
Steve’s fingers, trembling, break from the string, and the sound turns out so thin, hysterical, it freezes in the air, like unspoken words. You argue as if not noticing him, as if you're generally alone in the world - a lone actress on stage, the amphitheater is empty. You say something, but Steve doesn’t hear you, all the sounds are in the background around him, ordinary and insignificant - the only important thing is that Steve focuses his gaze on you, on your slightly chapped lips, saying something and for the first time formalizes your thoughts into desire.
Steve reaches out to you over the guitar, his fingers slip again almost to the scratches, and he catches your lips with his own - an awkward, desperate kiss, as if miles separate you, and not just one old guitar. Your lips are dry, and your eyes are wide open - the guitar cracks somewhere under your elbow, the old wood breaks, and you both somehow awkwardly fall on top of it and each other.
And then Steve kisses you more slowly, more consciously, holding your chin with his fingers - it seems to you that every second stretches into eternity, and in each of these eternities you are ready to die, turning into a blooming garden.
Or into a flowerbed.
- Too bad the guitar got broken, - Steve's quiet voice is heard near your ear, and a smile can be discerned in this voice. - But that’s not the most important thing, is it?
You close your heavy eyelids, squeeze his fingers in yours, and this gesture contains everything: longing, stupid one-sided love, gratitude, reluctance to let go and reluctance to leave - for the first time ever and only for a second.
You will never regret your choice, because you chose to be yourself.
- The most important thing is that, - you whisper barely audible.
we are free.
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You love November, because in this month everything around freezes - the world itself, sounds disappear, as if in a vacuum, and everything around dies in order to be born again. No, it’s not like you believe in reincarnation and life after death, you are a doctor after all and this has long left an indelible imprint on your understanding of reality. But a broken heart won’t heal itself, and there can’t be hearts in the eyes, because that’s fucking impossible.
A broken heart is something else.
- Robin, we live in a world where people throw up flowers out of love, what realism are you talking about! - you shout, flapping your arms like wings, and this movement causes leaves to fall from a yellow oak branch. You shouldn't have gone out for lunch.
Every morning you wake up from lack of oxygen, hanging over the edge of the bed and coughing up huge white lilies. The irises against the background of bloodshot eyes seem a thousand times brighter and crazier, and tears no longer moisturize - they, too, now always contain tiny petals and seeds.
It’s November outside, every breath feels like a cut of the knife, and a better interferon than love has not yet been invented. And it would at least be fine - if any love.
And your love stands opposite you, wrapped in a stupid puffy jacket, and strokes your sunken cheeks, with his palms.
- Y/n, how are you?
- Bad, - you answer for the first time in all this time, and your lips barely obey. You cling to Steve’s hands with your fingers, stiff from the cold, hide your palms in his pockets and sighs quietly, holding back annoying cough.
– Did you see the crow? - you suddenly say, looking somewhere over his shoulder. – Crows are amazing. If I were a crow, I would also find some cool lighting fixtures on nine-story buildings and sit there like they do.
Steve thinks that in your head there is not just different world, but several universes exist and collide with each other, exploding and mixing, in order to eventually come up with bullshit about the crow.
Steve doesn't think when he pulls you towards him and kisses you, feeling the flowery taste of small smooth petals on his tongue as he catches them with his lips.
- Steve, - you whisper hoarsely, but no longer push him away. - Flowers.
Steve so doesn’t care that he just smiles strangely and strokes the thin skin under the lower eyelids, where the shadows are so big and dark that they like the night can cover entire cities.
- Y/n, - he says, and it’s already the end of November. - Just wait for me, okay?
And you will wait.
At least as long as you can.
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upsidedownmvnson · 7 months
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tell me you love me | steve harrington
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warnings: fluff (warning lol) friends to lovers, idiots to lovers,
a/n: i actually really loved this <3 i hope you do too
tell me you love me vol 2
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Steve Harrington had already tried twice in his life to confess his love for you.
The first time, you two were in the tenth grade and you had just accepted stupid Jack Warren's invitation to prom, so Steve didn't bother. That was back when he was settling into popularity anyway, so he got over it pretty quickly. He was dating Cathy Bartlett the next week.
The second time, Robin had made him pinky promise not to date you. She had held him down, sat on his back and twisted his arm until he pinky swore that he wouldn't do anything to destroy the delicate ecosystem of the friend group. There was already one awkward ex-situation in there.
But Robin was right, you were not like the girls he normally dated. If things went wrong he wouldn't be able to just sweep it under the rug, it could have painful ramifications for all his friends. Although... he didn't actually think it would go that bad. Steve would find his mind wandering on the idea often. He pictured the two of you in the kitchen, side by side cooking dinner and talking about your day. When he thought of you, it felt like home. It felt like somewhere he could build a house and live forever.
If he could only get the words out, he'd realize how quickly you'd accept him. He'd realize he wasn't the only one of you that was stupid in love.
You had been in love with Steve since you could remember. But never once thought he'd shared your interest, not with all the girls around him all the time. The way he shines in their attention and basks in their praise, it's enough to make you sure he's happy with how it is. Or he probably wouldn't have told you all about his date with Debbie Dabbenthorn, right?
Tonight, you, Nancy and Robin were at a party. Something Steve desperately tried to make not happen. But he was working, so there was no one to stop you girls from coaxing each other into drink after drink, which you always did. The three of you always drank too much, and Steve always got stuck trying to coral you and Robin into his car.
At the party, Nancy was handing you another red cup filled to the brim, sloshing over the side and coating your fingers. You hadn't noticed.
"I love when we ditch the boys," Nancy said, smiling as she sipped out of her own solo cup. "It's so fun!"
"Same," Robin said, slinging her arm around Nancy's shoulers, making the two of them sway and laugh. They caught their balance and cheered drinks. "Hey, help me find the bathroom!"
It wasn't hard to find, but it was hard for all three of you to get there without knocking into each other, but it didn't matter. The three of you giggled the whole way, laughing too hard over barely anything. Enjoying the simple joy of being with your friends on a party.
The line for the bathroom was short, only a few people deep. Nancy was grilling Robin on her love life while Robin evaded every question with a vague answer, soon, she turned it onto you, focusing Nancy on the other singler girl in the group.
"Do you not think anyone is cute at least?" Nancy said, not quite believing you when you say you didn't have a crush on anyone at the moment. You shrugged, trying to avoid admitting that it was her ex boyfriend that really turned your head. Robin chuckled, and slid into the bathroom.
You started sipping your drink when Nancy asked, "Not even Steve?" and you nearly choked, but you coughed once and composed yourself. You stared at her, confused as to why she would bring him up.
"You don't have to say anything," she said, and you looked into your cup, noting that you'd need a replacement after this trip. "But it would be okay with me."
Robin opened the bathroom door again, reassembling the trio be throwing her arms around both of your shoulders. "New drinks!" she cheered, steering you all in the direction of the kitchen.
"Drink up," Nancy giggled, "and then let's dance!"
So that's what you did, you guys drank and danced and had a great time. Until Jonathan came to pick up Nancy. That's when you saw that it was after nine, so Steve should've been on the way to come collect you and Robin from your drunken outing. You told Robin again how nice it was for Steve to come get you.
"But c'mon, you love him right?" Robin asked, laughing at your shock.
"I do not love him," you argued, but you did. Robin shrugged, but didn't look convinced. "He just is beautiful, that's all."
"Nah," she said, brushing off the idea with a wave of her hand. "You just love him."
"Do not," you mumbled. But Robin already leaned the other way when Vicki walked up to talk to her. You leaned further into the couch, the ugly thing was very comfortable. Steve should be there any minute.
"Hey," Robin whispered, "Vicki invited me to go with her friends to the lake... Are you gunna be okay here? You're not too drunk are you? Because if you think you can't stay awake, I'll stay of course..."
"Robin, go! I'll be fine for like two minutes..." you slurred, you were pretty drunk but Steve really was going to be there any second.
"Okay!" she didn't have to be told twice before she was scrambling after Vicki in her love-drunk haze. Or maybe just regular drunk, but Robin was feeling giddy anyway.
Steve was running behind because he lost the address that Robin had given him. She'd just ripped off a corner of a piece of paper, and Steve had lost it at some point in his shift. When he finally found the place he was thirty minutes behind.
When he got inside you were curled up on the couch alone, snoozing while some couple made out next to you in the spot Robin had vacated. He smiled when he saw you, and took a knee next to you, trying to wake you up nicely. He stroked your cheek, and tucked some hair behind ear, making you stir softly in your slumber.
"Time to get up," Steve said, "Where's Robin?"
"Went with Vicki," you whispered, rubbing your eyes, smudging whatever makeup wasn't already ruined from the dancing.
"Well, how mean of her to leave you here all alone," he said, running his thumb along your cheek again. "Can't trust you guys alone now though, she did leave you to fall asleep at a house party. That's like really bad, I'm mad at her."
You made a soft noise in response, his stern voice was, not so stern. He smiled at you, and you couldn't help but notice how beautiful he was. Leaning close to you, rubbing your cheek, hair falling perfectly on his forehead and you just wanted to reach up and brush it away like he did. But your hands were wedged under your head, and you were afraid that if you stirred even an inch, he would leave, and this moment would be over.
"Guess you'll just have to make sure you come with us next time," you whispered, eyes bloodshot and glossy from all the alcohol. He thought you were the most beautiful girl in the room. The party was still raging around him, and he easily could've found a place within the girls, but he was content in this moment with you. Your eyes started feeling heavy, and you couldn't stop them from constantly fluttering shut.
“C'mon let me help you up babe,” Steve said, aiding your drunk figure. The nickname made your stomach flip. You were dead weight, giggling as he took care of you and grabbed your things and still found the patience to be kind to you, musing like he was interested in all your drunk babble.
“You're just so pretty, Stevie, it's stupid,” you cooed, finding a place beside him with his arms around you for balance as he lead you, slowly, to his car.
"D-Don't say that stuff," Steve said, voice cracking at the beginning. You were drunk, and it was dark, but you still noticed the blush on Steve's cheeks, and you smiled.
He opened the door for you, and you commented, "so romantic," while holding your hand over your heart, and Steve's heart raced. He went around the trunk of his car to get another second of fresh air, if you saw him in the light you were sure to see the heat he felt in his neck and cheeks. You were flirting with him, and he couldn't contain his excitement every time you complimented him, looking up at him with those beautiful eyes.
The entire trip was like that. From the moment he was in the car you were just a loose cannon of compliments and praises. This combination of him sober and you drunk has never happened while alone before. Were you this flirty with him when he was drunk too?
The answer was yes. The real reason Nancy knew you really wanted Steve was because whenever you two are drunk and together you look like you're in love... because you are. Holding hands, head on shoulder, legs across laps, big bright smiles that made everyone think you were truly, madly, deeply in love. Everything that's just a little too friendly, but never crossing that silly little line that kept you both under the umbrella of just friends.
You were a delight in his passenger seat. He only wished you spoke like this when you were sober, because then maybe he'd know for sure you love him too.
"Hey Steve?" you asked, voice coming out as almost a purr in your sleepy state. Steve's heart melted. "Can I hold your hand?"
"Yeah," he answered, clearing his throat and moving his hand over to your lap, intertwining your fingers. Your hands were cold to the touch, but all you felt was the comforting warmth of him. You were both smiling, goofy grins to match the butterflies in your stomach. "You can hold my hand whenever you like."
You made another happy hum, but said nothing else. The ride was short. No words exchanged, just the quiet songs on the radio, turned low to let you drift off in the passenger seat.
When you got to his house, he parked the car, looking at you. He didn't want to wake you. And he didn't want to let go of your hand. Maybe he should just stay in the car all night.
Of course he didn't do that. Steve weaseled his way out of your grip, not bothering to hide how pleased he was that you whined at the loss of his touch. he helped you out of the car, encouraging you to climb on his back for "an express ride to the VIP bathroom," and he delivered, carrying you, all dead weight and giggling, to the bathroom where he left you to clean up. You put on the clothes he delivered, Plaid pajama pants and a big grey shirt. Well, you put the shirt on, the pajama pants were thrown into the tub, because you couldn't be forced to wear pants.
"Steeeeeve," you slurred, leaving the bathroom, giggling and bumping into the doorframe.
Steve was standing in the doorway to his room, wearing only blue plaid pj pants. His torso on glorious display, while he stood frozen at the sight of you. You stretched your arms over your head, and the shirt rose, exposing your panties to him. He nearly choked looking at you.
"Can I sleep in your room?" you asked, smiling at the effect you had on him. "Look how cute I am," you said, turning around and lifting the shirt while bending over slightly, giving him a perfect view of your ass, with the panties laying deliciously over your cheeks.
"Jesus," he muttered, unable to look away but trying to force himself to. He shouldn't be sneaking a peak while you were this drunk, but in his defence you were the one showing him. "Come to bed, just put your shirt down."
"It's your shirt," you teased, obeying him anyway. You danced behind him into the room, and crawled into bed. It smelled so good, it smelled like him. You could've stayed by Steve's side under these blankets forever.
You lay facing Steve, in his overly big, overly comfortable bed, too tired and drunk to keep your eyes open, but you still try. Steve smiles at your determination to stay awake, he watches your eyes blink quickly, trying to shake the sleep away.
You want to reach over and intertwine your hands, you don’t. He wants to reach out and brush the hair off your forehead and behind your ear, he doesn’t.
“Are we in love, Steve?”
The sharpness of your question cuts him, wounding him in a way he didn’t know was possible. He wanted to speak, but there were no words. No charismatic come back, and no way to avoid the lingering question in the air. Steve holds his tears back. He really did love you.
When your eyes peak open, he’s nodding. His eyes filled with tears that he refuses to let you see, but you see. "Yeah, I think so."
“Why is it so sad?”
“Because we're best friends," he said, "and I can't lose you."
"Tell me you love me," you whispered, silly mood replaced with a tight feeling in your throat, like you were going to cry. But you held it back.
"I love you," he whispered.
"I love you too."
He wanted to cry. He wanted to kiss you. But instead, he just sighed, and found your hand under the sheets, and held it tightly. He was frozen. This was his dream come true, so why did it feel like a nightmare? Like you were right there, but he couldn't have you. Like he was doomed to stay in love with you, and never actually get to be with you.
“I will still love you in the morning whether I say it or not, Stevie.” Your eyes finally started winning the battle, and they stayed closed more than they stayed open, too heavy too fight.
"I know babe," he said, watching as you breathing changed and your eyes didn't open again. "I will too."
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andvys · 8 months
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I knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss
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Warnings: major angst, breakups, heartbreak, allusions to cheating, self doubt, mean!Steve, King!Steve, hurt/comfort, love triangle, mentions of an ED, past trauma. Eddie x reader ending.
Parings: Steve Harrington x fem!cheerleader!reader | Eddie Munson x fem!reader | Steve Harrington x Nancy Wheeler
Summary: Steve was slipping through your fingers and you desperately held onto him not realizing that his heart wasn’t yours anymore. Dealing with the aftermath of your breakup turns out to be harder than you thought. Steve’s presence still lingers and while he keeps a hold of your heart, someone else sneaks their way into it too.
prologue | part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven | part twelve | part thirteen | part fourteen | part fifteen | part sixteen | part seventeen | part eighteen | part nineteen | part twenty | part twenty one | part twenty two | part twenty three | part twenty four | part twenty five | part twenty six | part twenty seven | part twenty eight | part twenty nine | part thirty | epilogue
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random headcanons about Steve
random headcanons about Eddie
headcanons about Cheer (reader)
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munsonsreputation · 1 month
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I SHOULD HATE YOU
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steve harrington x fem!reader
word count: [22.3k]
warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, enemies to lovers, reader and steve use foul language towards each other (bitch, asshole, ect). blood (one of them gets hurt...but not bcs of each other), eventual smut (oral: both m and f receiving, fingering, piv, multiple o's,) minors gtfo before i superkick you!!!
summary: You and Steve Harrington hate each other’s guts…or at least you should, that is until a camp outing reveals everything that you both have been trying to hide.
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You desperately wanted to see what everyone else saw in Steve Harrington that you didn’t. All those words of how he changed so much and had this entire redemption arc when he decided to finally stop giving shit about stupid high school social orders and commit his life to be the esteemed and reliable babysitter.
Hell, even Robin Buckley, the one girl who really couldn’t stand him a few years ago, was now his best friend, and Nancy Wheeler, his ex-girlfriend, could actually stand to be in his presence without wanting to cringe and vomit because she actually dated him. 
You just couldn’t see it in him no matter how hard you tried, not even the kids could convince you that Steve wasn’t all that bad anymore. If anything they gushed about how much they admired him. How he was the cool older brother figure that they all wanted and had wrapped around their fingers ready at their beck and call.
Everyone loved Steve, but to you it was just bullshit.
“Why the sad face, doll?”
Steve pouted feignedly, causing you to roll your eyes, slapping the flies away from your skin as you watched him pitch his stupid tent.
“I’m not sad. I’m more so annoyed.” You grunted out with a glare. 
“I told you to bring bug spray.” He reminded shaking his head, clearly amused seeing you get angry at the innocent flies.
“I did, but it doesn’t fucking work and for your information, I’m annoyed because you’re here.” You said through gritted teeth, slapping your neck as another one landed but flew away before you could kill it.
Steve snapped the poles into place, engrossed with his task.
“Well if it makes you feel any better,” he chimed in, standing with a straight smirk across his face, “I’m not particularly happy with your presence either seeing as though you’re not doing shit besides standing there being a bitch.”
Your eyes widened, arms crossing over your chest as you stared at him in disbelief. But by this point it shouldn’t have been so surprising granted that you and Steve never stopped bickering, even when you both should have known to ignore each other. 
“Oh, go fuck yourself, Harrington!” You shouted, turning on your heel and flipping him the bird as you walked away.
“Tell that to my right hand, sweet cheeks!” He called out with a whistle, reveling in the art of getting under your skin.
Nance and Jonathan exchanged amused glances, painfully familiar with how much you and Steve despised each other yet somehow got here alive without slitting each other's throats. But that didn’t seem like it was going to be lasting long seeing as though this was now the beginning to a very long night.
You plopped down onto the foldable chair, still wearing a scowl that didn’t seem to want to cease even with the distance you created between you and him.
“We barely got here and you’re already at each other's throats.”
Nancy shook her head not understanding why you both couldn’t be adults about this whole thing.
“He started it!” You insisted, pointing your finger in his direction.
Jonathan couldn’t help but jump in with a chuckle, feeling as if this was payback for all those times he and his brother Will gave his mom a hard time. Seriously, dealing with you both was identical to watching two toddlers tattle tale on each other for every little thing before toys and fists were thrown. 
“So now you’re playing the blame game?” He suspected.
You clicked your tongue, sitting up straighter, shoulders pulled back as you crossed your legs and placed your hands on top of your knees, ready to mock Steve and his privileged life that he just had to leave behind for the day. 
“Why couldn’t he just have stayed home in his stupid mansion, driving around in his stupid Beemer, where he could be stupid all by himself and leave us out of his stupid stupidity.” 
You seriously looked like you could end him with your bare hands — and if they didn’t know better they’d let you have a go at it just to see how far you would get. Surely Steve would put up a good fight too, probably make it quick and easy so he didn’t have to hear your voice anymore, but you would definitely be taking your time with him. 
“He’s the only one who’s ever been camping and if something happens then he’ll know what to do.”
Nancy attempted to reason with you, hoping you could see it through just this once, for just a couple hours.
You shrugged your shoulders, watching him in your peripheral vision.
“Whatever, as long as he stays away from me then I can make it through the next 24 hours.” You waved off. 
But Jonathan lugged up a box, plopping it before your feet with a loud clatter coming from inside of it, staring at you with a smile. 
“If you want to make it to at least tonight, I’d suggest you start getting to work.”
Cursing under your breath, you were beginning to rethink your choices of saying ‘yes’ to trip when you had not one outdoorsy bone in your body and surely no bone, not even a cell that could stand Steve Harrington.
But getting it pitched up yourself wasn’t all that bad considering the fact that the instructions were self explanatory and had images to make it easy to follow. It was that nagging, infuriating voice that belonged to Steve that was getting on your last nerve. Like a mosquito in your ear, he kept buzzing and buzzing and—
“Try again, you’re holding the pole backwards, smarty pants!” He called out, smirking to himself when you tried to ignore him by shutting him out and doing it at your own pace.
But ignoring him only fueled his determination to keep going, poking and prodding at your patience that was withering away by the second. Every snarky smartass remark was like nails on a chalkboard, causing your eye to twitch, teeth to grind, and self-restraint to grow weaker. 
“Your tent is gonna fly away in the middle of the night if you don’t make use of those stakes!”
“You shoulda listened to me, I told you that pole was in the wrong slot!”
“How about you put a little elbow grease into it and stop trying to put it together like you’re the goddamn princess of the camp ground!”
Your blood was damn nearly boiling, knuckles going white as you shoved the stupid pole into the other side, trying to get the frame to stay together. But your anger and rushing only made it worse, the wobbling frame threatening to give out on itself if you tried to force it in anymore than you already had. His whiny voice and every taunt that came with it just made you want to take the pole and use it for something else — silencing him.
Nancy and Robin had scolded Steve multiple times, knowing that your fuse with him was ridiculously short. Eddie and Jonathan, well-acquainted with your dynamic, kept their distance, observing from the sidelines not wanting to be caught in the impending storm between you two.
Eddie watched you carefully,  your jaw clenching, air pushing out of your nostrils and he was sure that if it was humanly possible there would be a hot steam coming from the top of your head. 
“Knock it off, man, she’s getting pissed.” He warned his friend, taking a swig of his beer, while he darted between you both.
Steve however, wasn’t threatened in the slightest, continuing to provoke you with another snide comment. 
“She won’t be pissed for long if a bear comes and mauls her in the middle of the night because she doesn’t know how to pitch a damn—”
That was the last straw.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” You screamed, ripping off the pole and storming towards Steve not caring how insane you looked.
Eddie quickly got on his feet, dropping his beverage and intervening just in time. 
“Not so fast!” He lifted you off the ground holding you back as Jonathan managed to wrangle the pole out of your hands.
Steve was having a fit of laughter, hunching over himself and grabbing at his midsection.
“You’re so easy to piss off.” He cackled, shaking his head at you and giving himself an imaginary point for already getting under your skin in the first hour of being there.
“You’re such an asshole!” You fumed, continuing to struggle in Eddie's grasp.
He kept his hold tight knowing if there was any room left for you to get away, it would most likely end with warfare. And while he and your friends never liked to come in between your tumultuous relationship, they knew letting you both rip each other apart wouldn't do anyone good – even if it gave them some peace.  
Nancy had had enough — the trip was supposed to be peaceful, getting to be one with nature and finally getting away from the kids for once, but of course, that wouldn’t happen seeing as though you and Steve acted like children possessed.
“Enough!” She shouted, bringing temporary silence as you both could feel the seriousness in her voice.
“You’re right, Steve is an asshole and because he feels so sorry, what he’s gonna do is finish pitching up your tent while we go to the lake to cool off. Got it?”
She turned towards him, her eyes widening, signaling Steve to comply for the sake of peace just this once.
But instead, he protested, standing up defiantly, “Hell no! I wouldn’t even pitch her tent if—”
“I’m not asking you, I’m telling you.” Nancy interrupted, not leaving any room for negotiation because at this point it was futile.
Robin gestured to the partially completed frame with a small shrug.
“It’s the least you can do, half of it is already done.” She said, hoping to lighten his mood about it. 
Reluctantly Steve huffed, glaring as he made his way over to you, faces only inches apart as everyone began to sigh, seeing as though you’d both be starting again. Eddie gripped you tight, not even giving you any wiggle room to try anything.
“You’re lucky Robin’s staying in your tent because if she wasn’t, I wouldn’t even think about finishing it.” Steve rasped begrudgingly smirking because you were a prisoner in shackles.
But you jutted your neck forward as if you were about to headbutt him which caused him to flinch back, holding his arm out front of his body. That alone made you cackle, just a taste of what you could have done to get him to shut up.
“Get to work, boy scout.” You sneered. 
Throwing Eddie’s arms off your midsection, you brushed right past him going towards your bag to get out a bikini to change into while the rest of them whispered their scoldings, particularly punctuating the importance of Steve not messing with you anymore because they couldn’t stand it.
Jonathan nudged Steve’s shoulder, a pleading expression on his face.
“Would it kill you to not be such a dickhead to her for one whole day?”
Steve dramatically gasped, wrapping his arms around his own neck pretending to suffocate, “Y-yes… I-I can’t breathe, no oxygen!”
His best friend rolled her eyes, unimpressed with his childish behavior “You’re such a dweeb, I swear.” she said, smacking the top of his head as she walked past him and followed you to the bathrooms.
“You heard her, get to work.”
Nance snapped her fingers, pointing sharply at the tent hoping that for once he’d listen.
Jonathan and Eddie decided to serve as watch guards knowing that if no one was here to watch him and make sure he did what he was told, he would probably let you sleep with a half assed tent while Robin stayed with him and Eddie. 
Maybe all you needed was to get as far away as possible from him… for as long as you could.
Stepping into the lake, the water felt nice against your skin, cooling down the sizzling blood still rushing in your veins and easing your body to a state of relaxation. If you closed your eyes hard enough and let the sun bask down on your face, you could pretend as if he wasn’t just a few feet away from you, grumbling like a whiny child forced into time out to write a hundred sentences.
You honestly should’ve known better than to agree to come along the trip knowing Steve was going to infect it with his existence, but your friends had convinced you otherwise, selling it as an opportunity to get out of Hawkins for a weekend and just enjoy each other’s company.
If you had known that Steve was going to be even more of a pain in the ass than usual, you would have never even thought about getting into Eddie van and driving all the way here with no other means to leave.
“I just don’t understand how he’s nice to everyone but you.” Robin pondered aloud, trying to understand the mystery between your relationship.
“It’s because he wants me dead, Robin, simple as that.” You deadpanned, seeing no other explanation to it other than pure hatred.
“Don’t be ridiculous, he doesn’t want you dead.” Nancy laughed, brushing off your comment knowing that Steve didn’t hate you that much.
“Oh my bad, I meant that he wants me to suffer a long excruciating death by letting his ego take up all the space in the room.”
Your voice leaked of sarcasm, eliciting laughs from the girls who found humor in what you saw as the truth.
Robin and Nancy knew there was no way the both of you could really hate each other as much as you both liked to think you did. If you really did hate each other for real, then you wouldn’t even dare to tolerate each other's presence but you both did — and while sure most times it was for the sake of your friends, by now one of you should’ve been fed up enough to leave.
Their laughter faded, Robin staring at you with a mischievous smirk as you waded in the water, enjoying the temporary peace. Perhaps she could be out of line with the thoughts brewing up in her head, but it was just a theory — a possible reasoning for you and Steve’s differences.
“Did you ever stop and think that maybe you two might get along better if you liked each other in a different way?” She wiggled her brows before biting her lip. 
And like that, the peace was gone.
“Absolutely fucking not!” You shouted, rejecting it with clear disgust as you began splashing her in retaliation.
She giggled some more, trying to shield herself from the large splashes as Nancy swam off to the side, happy that at least you were having some fun now, even if the conversation still revolved around Steve. Robin swam through the splashes, wrapping her hands around yours to make them stop before you both began laughing, letting her hug you as an apology for her words.
“You’re so lucky I love you.” You grumbled, leaning closer to her to rest your cheek against her shoulder.
“Opposites attract, you know.” She continued to tease and you poked at her side, glaring half jokingly.
“Not him and I.” You declared sternly, gaze moving back up to the shore where the men still gathered near your tent.
It was nice not having to watch you stick your nose up and complain about the flies as if it was the end of the world. Without you in his ear and sights, he could finally enjoy just a smidge of the day, even if it was pitching his mortal enemy’s tent. If he didn’t think about it too much, he’d forget that it would be keeping you safe and you’d wake up the next morning, living another day to make his life miserable.
Tugging the tarp into place, he zipped it up and down making sure it slid smoothly before dusting off his hands and taking a step back to examine your his work. He tilted his head, shrugging his shoulders not in the mood to fix the lousy frame.
“Besides the crooked roof, it’s not that bad.” He announced, more so glad that his punishment was over.
Jonathan grinned, patting him on the back with a hopeful look as if this was the turning point.
“Well you should tell her she didn’t do a bad job then! Say something nice to her for once.”
Steive chortled looking over to him in disbelief before wagging his finger mockingly.
“Over my dead body.”
Jonathan sighed, sliding away from him and going to grab another beer for himself. Slowly but surely he was giving up on the idea of trying to get you and Steve to get along for the weekend. At this point, he and Nance’s plan was failing terribly, seeing as though neither of you said one good thing to each other all day and it probably would never happen.
Eddie rolled his eyes, resting his back against the tree as he watched you and the girls spinning in the water enjoying yourselves.
“Why can’t you both just put your differences aside and get along?” He wondered, seeing as though you were both capable of being happy, just why not with each other.
Steve darted his eyes up to his obviously, “She’s had it out for me since day one. Never liked me and never even tried to.”
Walking over to your bags, he picked them up along with Robin’s placing them in the tent, but he more so threw yours in, not giving a damn if the tent shook with it.
Eddie sighed, going over to fix it nicely into a corner when Steve turned away.
“To be fair, you haven’t tried to like her either so the odds were never going to be in your favor to begin with.” Jonathan pointed out truthfully.
How were the both of you ever going to get along if you held so much against each other without trying to see it through?
“You sure you don’t have a thing for her deep down? They always say that people who hate each other really just have to settle their differences in bed so they can see eye to eye.” Eddie snickered, patting his back stiffly. 
The thought alone made Steve sick. Kissing you? Hugging you? Actually enjoying your existence? That sounded like a nightmare from hell if he’d ever dreamt one. Eddie and Jonathan found it a bit comical, even taking notice of their friends silence, his mind thinking up all the dirty and—
A hard smack landed on Eddie’s arm.
“I don’t know where the hell you heard that from, but I wouldn’t even sleep with her if we were the last two people on Earth.” Steve sneered, nose sticking up with disgust.
Edide rubbed at the skin, he and Jonathan watched as Steve walked away, tugging his shirt off and beginning to make his way into the lake without another word. They knew it was inevitable, the hatred that was brewing in his bones for you, was just a ploy for something else — something you and him didn’t see quite but everyone else did.
“Twenty they finally kiss?” Jonathan challenged, turning to him with an open hand.
Eddie cackled, smirking smugly.
“Twenty-five they end up hooking up tonight,” he added to the wager and to the lines that you and him would cross.
“Deal.”
You rolled your eyes, detaching yourself from Robin catching the sight of Steve inching his way into the lake. Soon after Jonathan and Eddie followed suit, running in like chickens with their heads cut off and splashing all of you with their boy-ness.
It frustrated you more than the way it should have made you angry — the way all your friends could seamlessly get along with him as if he wasn't the worst person you ever met. He even embraced Jonathan in a bromance hug as if at one point in their lives they didn’t despise each other for the girl they both liked.
It was so… confusing?
You let them bask in the presence of Steve, knowing that while you didn’t enjoy time with him, you would never try to rob the rest of your friends from it. Instead you went off on your own, going in just a bit deeper for some privacy as they lingered a few feet behind you.
“Don’t go too far out!” Nancy called out to you knowing you weren’t the best swimmer.
“I know, mom!” You singsonged, looking up at the sky and taking it all in — random cloud shapes and the birds that flocked above.
The camp ground was two hours out from Hawkins, tucked away in a nicer part of town, of course, Steve was the one who suggested the place. Nevertheless it was actually breathtaking, a nice contrast to the small town that you all came from which didn’t have a lake that compared to this, just good ole’ Lover’s Lake and Sattler Quarry.
This would probably be your first and last time camping, so you were trying to make the most of it, not letting the little scuffle totally ruin your experience. You had wished you brought your polaroid along, wanting to snap photos of the view to remember it by but in hindsight it was better to live in the moment.
“Let’s play sharks and minnows!” Robin announced cheerfully, wanting to seize the moment and do something fun she remembered from childhood.
You didn’t pay them any mind, your silence serving as an answer that you’d be sitting that game out and enjoying watching them instead.
Steve cupped his hands around his mouth, shouting loudly, “I call shark!”
They erupted in shrieks, splashing their way farthest from Steve, getting a head start since he was a skilled swimmer. 
Eddie, who was a distance away yelled out, “Ready, set, go!”
Steve didn’t even bother mapping out everyone else, they weren’t his prey, you were.
“Better get moving, princess!”
Steve wore an irritatingly smug look, catching your eyes before he dove under the water and made his way towards you.
Your eyes widened, flaring your arms back as you attempted to doggy paddle away from him but it was obvious that he had the upper hand with his skill set. The tips of your toes started to slip from the ground, water pushed up to your collarbones as you still tried to get away from him without drowning.
It was futile trying to lose him, you didn’t even dare to inch further back knowing by then the water would submerge you fully. Instead you opted to sweep the water against him the closer he got to you, though he was unaffected by it still swimming with ease.
“Steve, stop! Go away!” You shouted, kicking your legs trying to get him back.
“Gotcha!” He grinned, popping his head out of the water to stand up straight and wrap his arms around your midsection
You pushed at his chest, trying to get away. “You dickwad! I wasn’t even playing!”
“Too bad!” He stuck his tongue out at you, gripping your skin just a tad tighter and hoisting your legs around his hips.
“Steve put me down, I swear to fucking…oh my god!” You exclaimed, quickly moving your arms around his neck when you felt the woosh of water against your back when he moved you both deeper into the water.
You watched your friends over his shoulder become smaller and smaller, until they were little specks on the shore waving with shit eating grins on their faces knowing that Steve wouldn’t actually do anything to hurt you.
Despite how disgusted you were being so close to him, you had no choice but to hang on for dear life. Steve gave you a bit of height with you over his hips, and had it not been for that, you’d be drowning by now.
“S-Steve, please I can’t swim!” You begged, eyes finally daring to meet him and for once you weren’t looking at him with such disgust but with desperation.
His face contorted with surprise, eyebrows raised and mouth held wide open before tugging up into a lopsided smirk.
“Never thought I’d ever hear that word come out of your mouth… let me hear it one more time?”
His grip barely went slack as you whimpered, using your legs to jerk him back to you before you slapped his chest, fingers gripping his biceps under the water and letting your nails dig painfully into his skin.
“Get me back to the shallow! Right now!” You growled, watching as he winced a bit hissing in a sharp breath feeling the sting.
Seriously, if you were a better swimmer, you’d be out of his grasp by now and holding his head underwater until he floated like dead weight. He had the advantage over you, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least put up a fight.
“What’s the magic word?” He teased, exhaling as your nails eased out of his skin yet somehow you still held on to him not wanting to take a risk no matter how revolting he was.
“I. hate. you!” You screamed, starting to thrash around in his arms hoping that your struggle would annoy him so much that he’d bring you back to the shallow just so he wouldn’t have to deal with you.
But instead, he loosened his grip again, using it against you because just as he suspected, you seized your movements immediately, looped your hands around his neck, clinging to him like a koala.
“Still waiting on that magic word.” He singsoned, not being too cruel this time around, wrapping his arms securely around your frame, not actually thinking he’d ever let you go.
You hoped your friends couldn’t read your lips from there or else you wouldn’t hear the end of it.
“Please.” You gave in, whispering it against his neck.
The hair on the back of his neck stood tall, shivers creeping up his spine feeling a twinge of sympathy for you, but not too much to spare, when you cursed his name right after the fact. Satisfied, he spun around, guiding the two of you back to the bank where you were more comfortable.
Letting out a breath of relief, you relaxed your arms and slightly loosened your legs from around his waist, a little surprised at yourself for being able to stand his skin sticking to yours for so long. This was the most contact you and Steve had ever endured with each other. All of the previous encounters consisted of you smacking him and him chasing you with something gross like a dead roach.
“You didn’t think I’d actually let you drown, did you?” Steve asked, looking down at you.
You rolled your eyes, staring up at him past your lashes. “I don’t know, you’re quite the asshole so I thought so.”
He ran his tongue over the inside of his cheek, tsking disapprovingly.
“Such a shame you think so lowly of me,” he said acting hurt as rolled your eyes yet again, “here’s payback for earlier.”
His arms abruptly left your body, letting you actually slip out of his hold watching as you went down with a screech that quickly died. You shut your eyes tightly, arms pushing yourself up to the surface where you coughed roughly, his stupid laughter filling your ears when you came to.
“I still hate you!”
You huffed, splashing him once more before trudging towards your friends who watched with glee, thankful for the five minutes of free entertainment that didn’t involve them.
Steve stood where he was, arms crossed, face dripping with lake water, but still wearing a wide smile, more than happy with his little stunt and the fact that he got your blood pressure rising. Something about riling you up, filled him up with a sort of satisfaction, yet he wouldn’t ever admit that you were the only person who could get under his skin the same way he did you.
Surprisingly enough, he stayed away from you during the rest of the time in the lake. Instead, he bothered Eddie and Robin with his stupid ideas to race across the lake and find the biggest pebble to see who could skip it the farthest.
Thankfully for you, you got the bathe in the sunlight, enjoying conversation with Jonathan and Nancy who at first bothered you about the whole you in his arms thing, but eventually gave up when you gave them the death stare. You obviously were holding back something considering you never missed a beat to berate Steve, but this time around, you didn’t even want to get into it — they wondered why?
As the sun slowly began to tumble, casting oranges and pinks in the sky, you felt your fingertips becoming overly pruney, cueing your desire to get out and get freshened up for the evening.
“I’m gonna go wash up.” You announced raising a hand over your forehead to block the light as you stared out at them in the water.
“We’ll be out in a bit!” Robin called through her laughter, continuing her fun in chasing Eddie and Jonathan around in the water with a stick she had found.
You carefully tiptoed through the rocks, making your way up to the camp ground. The tent wasn’t half bad, and to your surprise Steve had actually followed through on his task of finishing it. You’d guess that if he wasn’t so intimidated by Nancy and her threats, he wouldn’t even think about doing it, nevertheless at least now you could say Steve did something useful for you for once, even if it was against his will.
Your bag was already conveniently placed in your tent, so you grabbed your toiletries, a clean towel, and your change of clothes before you walked over to the communal bathrooms where the showers were also located. Thankfully it was just you and your friends on the grounds, so it was fairly clean and had more privacy than usual which was always nice.
You pulled the curtains to one of the stalls back, assessing the area before putting your things down on the shelf and hanging your towel on the railing, stepping in and pulling the curtains closed. Stripping off your swimwear, you wringed out the excess water and hung them on the adjacent wall letting them air dry for the time being.
Cranking the lever, the shower head spritzed alive, letting semi-warm water sprinkle across your skin, rinsing you free of the lake water. You hummed to yourself, raking your fingers through the knots and tangles of your hair, doing your best to get them out before rubbing the skin over your neck and chest.
“You really should have picked the stall away from the sunlight.”
Steve’s voice echoed, halting his footsteps in the doorway as he stared at the figure behind the curtain, the only other person in here was you and he could definitely tell by your pedicured toes peeking under the gap of the shower.
Clenching your jaw, your hands stopped its movements over your body, turning your head over your shoulder as you were met with Steve’s shadow staring right on the other side. If you squinted hard enough you could make out the smirking features on his face, but to your obvious surprise all you could do was shriek.
“Oh my god!” You shielded yourself with your arms as if that would help, seeing as though the curtain alone wasn’t doing its job of saving you your dignity.
He held his hands up, gesturing his arm up and down at the curtain.
“Relax, I can only see your shadow because of the sun.” He explained nonchalantly, walking into the stall beside yours and switching the water on.
You swallowed, still not trusting him completely as you stepped forward, peeling back the curtain a bit to see if anyone else was coming that way.
“Are the rest of them coming? I need to save myself the embarrassment and move to another stall if they are.” You asked rapidly, really hoping that neither of your friends or any visitors would be greeted with your naked silhouette the second they stepped in there.
“They’re playing chicken in the lake so no, they won’t be coming any time soon.” He responded, sounding actually sincere for once, because while he enjoyed messing with you, he still respected your privacy enough to know setting you up like that wasn’t cool.
See… there were boundaries between your hatred, probably ones so low the bar was on the floor...but they were boundaries.
“Thank god.” You sighed, tugging the portion of the curtain closed and walking back into the stream of the water, squeezing some shampoo into your hands as you began lathering it through your scalp.
“By the way, are your tits pierced or were you just excited to see me?”
Your eyes widened, a gasp leaving your mouth while your fingers stopped. His incessant laughter bounced off the walls and rang in your ears like the worst kind of pain, wishing you had taken your chances earlier and at least tried to drown him.
“You’re such a pig!” You said, banging your hands on his side of the wall until his laughter died down scoffing.
He grunted, tapping your wall back harder. “Learn how to take a joke and stop getting your panties in a twist.”
“What’s a joke is that rumor about you being so largely endowed.” You began pretending to gag.
“I heard Stacy Burnham asked you if it was even in and when you said yes she was so disappointed.” You sassed sharply, hoping it would embarrass him enough to shut up.
“I didn’t even hook up with Stacy Burnham!” He retorted ridiculously, knowing that rumor was so absurd and untrue.
You rolled your eyes and wished he could see you, “Not surprised, it probably didn’t feel like much for you either when you’re packing less than three inches.”
Steve scoffed loudly, knowing that was definitely not true and it wasn’t just his ego talking. 
“Oh trust me, you wouldn’t even be able to take half of what I’m packing.”
“A half inch? Yeah, cause I’d be too busy crying with disappointment.” You faked sobbed, flipping him off though he couldn’t even see you. 
He didn’t have a comeback, clearly not in the mood to argue about what he was packing because truly you’d only believe him if you saw it for yourself. And trust him, he’d burn himself alive before ever thinking about seeing you naked or letting you see him naked.
That was just totally out of the question… and like he told Eddie, it would never happen even if you both were the last people on Earth.
“Let me borrow some soap.” Steve muttered knocking on your wall, hand dangling above your stall waiting for you to pass it over.
“No.” You chuckled, smacking his hand before you grabbed your body wash and rubbed it against your palms to create bubbles.
“Why not?” He coaxed, not putting his hand back down into his stall as you sighed and went on about washing your body.
“You tried to kill me earlier and let me drown.” You reminded him.
“And what would you call that little stunt back there when you tried to stab me to death?” He retorted.
You were quiet, rolling your eyes knowing that he wouldn’t let this go any time soon, so in order to save both of your energies, you simply picked up the bottle of shampoo, thrusting it up into his hand as he chuckled to himself and grabbed it.
“See! Sharing is caring, now, if you need to borrow some brains you know where to find me.”
“Shut the fuck up.” You snapped, trying to enjoy the rest of your shower despite knowing that the only thing that separated you both was a wall.
You showered in complete silence, only Steve knocking on your wall to give you back the products, fingers tapping against his palm to silently ask you for the next. After a few minutes you had finished, finally shutting the water off as you dried down.
You slipped your legs through a fresh pair of underwear, letting it snap against your skin as you worked the fitted cami over your torso and then slipped on the shorts that you rolled over your hips to stop them from falling.
Whipping the curtain back, you didn’t wait for Steve to finish, simply leaving him as you went back towards the tents to hang your still wet swimsuit over a tree branch and stuffing your things back into your bag.
After a few minutes he came out, walking over with his towel around his neck, sporting a loose t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. 
“Well you’re definitely getting eaten alive by mosquitoes tonight.” He shook his head at your rookie mistake, laughing along with it. 
You looked down at yourself, much of your skin left exposed for the same flies that badgered you earlier to feast upon.
“Give me a break, I didn’t know there would be so many flies.”
He walked over to his stuff, plucking out the aerosol can and tossing it over to you, “Here.” 
You caught it, looking over the bottle label as he spoke, “It’s the only brand of bug spray that actually works.” 
“Thanks.” You mumbled, twisting the bottle open and misting it over your arms and legs, letting the product coat every inch with a light sheen.
You tossed it back, working it into your skin as Steve took his turn to spray it on his exposed arms and neck knowing from experience that waking up to a hundred fly bites was the most uncomfortable itchy pain to be in.
“How were the showers?” Eddie huffed, water dripped off his body as he made his way up to you both, the rest of them following behind.
“Fine, just don’t pick the stall directly at the entrance. Wouldn’t want anyone getting an eye full.”
Steve smirked as you turned beet red, tucking your face into your chest and walking to your bag to pretend to search for something.
Nancy wrapped her arms around herself, biting back the cool air that was coming in from the day winding down.
“Why don’t you guys get started on the fire so that way we can have dinner soon.”
Sunset was just nearly finishing up, only about a half hour of sunlight left before darkness would set in. Steve knew from experience that keeping the fire overnight would be the best bet at having means to some light and warmth.
He nodded, looking around for the items to get it going, “Yeah, sure, where’s the charcoal?”
“Charcoal?” Jonthan asked, confused, scratching the temple of his head, not remembering seeing it when you were all loading Eddie’s van that morning.
Steve nodded his head obviously, looking around at the group. “For the fire? I told you guys to pick it up.”
You sighed, standing up to face them with your hands on your hips. “Don’t tell me you guys forgot it.” 
“Are we doomed if we say we did?” Eddie spoke, a guilty inflection in his voice, because he was totally in charge of that but it had slipped his mind.
Steve shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just means that now we have to find some sticks and leaves. Do it the old fashioned way.”
Robin the ever so considerate one, starting snapping her fingers, pointing between you and Steve biting back her sneaky smile.
“So stop standing around and start searching! We don’t want to lose daylight before then.”
Taking a deep breath in you held back your comments of how you didn’t want to go anywhere alone with Steve since he obviously had a death wish for you. However it was obvious that this was going to be a group effort, and if you wanted to make it out of here alive, you would just have to suck it up and follow Steve’s lead.
He stared down at your bare feet, pointing at your tent.
“Put some shoes on and let’s go.” He said, before the others smiled contently, running off to the showers and leaving you both alone again.
“This is the last time I’m ever camping.” You grumbled sliding on a fresh pair of socks and slipping your shoes on, bending to tie them up.
Steve tapped his foot against the grass, shaking his head at you and your ability to nit-pick every little thing.
“You know, it would be more enjoyable if you’d stop making every minor inconvenience a big deal.”
You finished off the ties with a tug, walking over to him and glaring at his hypocrisy with an instance you were all too familiar with.
“Are you really one to be talking Mr. I got mad at Dustin Henderson for using up all my hairspray even when my date flaked on me?”
He hated that you remembered that even when it had been months ago since it happened. Neither you nor Dustin let him live it down because it was the first time he let a girl get in between his extraordinary ability to be the charming babysitter he made himself out to be. Dustin, so annoyed with his attitude, didn’t ask Steve for any rides to the arcade nor did he visit him at Scoops for a whole two weeks.
Instead, you took on the babysitting role, driving him to the arcade, dropping him off to school, and even picking the kid up at Star Court when all his friends caught a ride with Steve to be dropped off back at their place. Steve thought Dustin was being ridiculous about the whole thing until you pulled up in your car, wearing the biggest smile as you rolled down your window and sent him a cold smirk.
“Not such a great babysitter anymore, huh?” You laughed, watching as his face fell and Dustin got into the passenger of your car, waving goodbye to his friends while you sped off.
Safe to say, Steve apologized to the kid, terribly sorry and embarrassed by his behavior and even throwing in a bottle of hairspray and a free banana split every time he came into Scoops as an apology gift.
The two of you followed the trail a few feet out from the campground, trucking through an uneven rocky path and outgrown bushes. He was clearly more familiar with the area given his experience, knowing exactly where to go, taking a shortcut that passed cut through the bumpy trail and led you to a small area of dirt and trees.
“We’re looking for sticks about this size, but really any twig or stick will do.” He spoke, reaching down to pick up a large stick and show it to you.
You looked around, eyes peeled out for the sticks that were scattered in the area.
“And what about leaves?” you asked.
“Those too, but they’ve gotta be dry, almost crumbly.” He specified, walking off to start the collection process.
“Got it.”
You and Steve worked the best when there was no talking involved, perhaps that's why your friends always suggested going out to see a movie at the theaters instead of at each other's homes where you both would clearly not give a damn about causing a disturbance. But despite that, right then you both were going a whole ten minutes without insulting one another or making threats to see the other dead.
When you picked up the wrong stick of a leaf that wasn’t crumbly enough, he just grunted, shaking his head until you dropped it and found another that would suffice. That system was working well so far, so maybe that was the key: limited talking.
“Go drop that pile off and come back for more, we’re gonna need a whole bunch to last until morning.” Steve instructed, noticing that you had already gathered quite a bit in your arms.
You peered into his arms, his pile about the same size as yours, maybe a little smaller.
“Want me to take some of yours?” You suggested, wanting to save you both a few more trips up there.
He nodded, carefully stacking them on top of what you already had, steadying the pile and removing the bigger ones to ensure it didn’t tumble over while you were walking down. When you got all that you could carry, Steve gave you a cautious look.
“Be careful and walk slowly, the path gets rocky when you get closer to the camp. If you fall, just scream and I’ll hear you.” He was so serious about it, like a true camp counselor, or as you liked to call him...
“Heard you loud and clear, boy scout.” You hummed, turning around and making your way carefully down the trail.
For once you actually listened to what he said, taking your time and not rushing your way down knowing it wouldn’t do you or him any good if you ended up taking a spill and losing all the fire starter then scratching yourself up in the process. You remembered the shortcut he took, a right turn that he conveniently marked with a X in the dirt. Just a little more walking before the campsite came back into view and still no signs of your friends being done yet.
You dumped the sticks and leaves near the outside of the fire pit that was in the center of the camp. Dusting your hands off and taking a deep breath, you looked back up the hilly trail where Steve was somewhere up there waiting for you to come back.
“C’mon, princess.” You muttered to yourself, feet taking you back there with fast steps trying to beat the sunlight.
Clearly the outdoors just wasn’t your thing, easily becoming winded despite the fact that the trail wasn’t that steep. But you were trying to cut yourself some slack because for a rookie, you kinda got the hang of keeping your balance and not getting lost through the unknown woods.
“H-how many more piles do we need? I can’t do this five more times.” You huffed, hands on your hips as you caught your breath watching Steve dump a few more sticks in a pile on the ground.
He peered over at you, wiping the sweat that beaded on his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Probably one more, will do.” He answered, strolling further up, just to grab a bit more in case.
You honestly didn’t know how a small town city boy like him was so good at things like this — usually he was only good at picking up girls and making a doofus out of himself when he didn’t know how to talk about anything else beside him. 
Maybe it was those annual Harrington trips he took when he was a little boy or maybe he really was secretly a boy scout and been hiding it all along, either way, thank god it was him doing most of the dirty work and not you.
“Should I bring these down or do you want me to wait?” You shouted loud enough for him to hear glancing over at the piles he made while you picked a few more sticks up.
“You can— fuck!” He winced, clutching his palm in his other hand, starting to feel a sharp pain shoot in around the area. 
Hastily you dropped the sticks, abandoning the pile and racing to where he was while trying not to fall so that you could see what exactly was going on. There was a pained look on his face, teeth biting into his bottom lip as he turned away and tried to shake it off. But alas you reached for his wrist, bringing his hand towards you to access.
“Shit, you’re bleeding.” You whispered, bringing the injured hand closer to see if the gash was deep or not, but you couldn’t quite tell with the small pooling of blood in the way.
Steve jutted his chin downwards, showing you the jagged stone responsible.
“I didn’t see it when I went for the stick.” He explained. 
You nodded, releasing his wrist gently. “C’mon, we need to get it cleaned and bandaged before it gets infected.”
“I gotta grab the—”
“No!” You yelped, pulling him up by the collar of his shirt when he attempted to bend down for more sticks despite his injury.
He stopped, visibly stunned at your sudden attentiveness that was usually never present when it came to him.
“I’ll carry those, but you don’t pick up or hold anything else. If a splinter gets in there I’ll be the one needing to dig it out and it'll only hurt more.” You said sternly, shaking your head at him like he should have known better. 
“I thought you liked seeing me in pain.” Steve smirked somehow still able to be a little shit even with a fucked up hand. 
“I do,” You tilted your head, but sighed, “But I really don’t need the one person who actually knows what they’re doing to be the first one dead.”
“Fine by me.” Steve shrugged, forced to watch you pick up all the sticks and leaves by yourself, he followed behind you as you occasionally looked behind your shoulder to see if he was okay.
When you both finally made it back to the tents, you dropped the pile, pointing at the foldable chairs a few feet from the pit.
“Go over there.” You instructed, brushing past him with vigor as you went to your tent to retrieve the first aid kit you packed for emergencies like this, though you were really hoping you didn’t have to use it.
You flipped the case open, taking a look at all the materials it contained while you walked over to him, kneeling in front of him and deciding what you were going to do. Grabbing an alcohol wipe, you disinfected your hands before you tapped his knee.
“Show me.” You demanded, holding your hand out, until he reluctantly placed it in yours giving you a closer look at the gash.
The blood had stopped so you knew it wasn’t that deep of a cut that would require stitches or staples, but it most definitely needed to be wrapped up to prevent an infection and trip to the emergency room.
You reached into the kit for a fresh alcohol pad, ripping it open with your teeth as you steadied his hand in yours.
“Just get it over with already.” He muttered, head turning away anticipating the sting that was going to be worse than your nails digging into him.
“Don’t be a wimp.” You joked, swiping it gently over the area to get it clear from the drying blood and any outside contaminants. He didn’t pull back, only sucking in a deep breath from the mild burn but after a few seconds the worst part was done.
“See, not so bad, right, big boy?” You laughed, patting his knee again before throwing aside the bloodied napkin as he swallowed thickly, waiting for your next steps.
He watched you carefully, grabbing some sort of ointment, squeezing a small dollop onto your finger before you dabbed it over the cut making sure to coat it evenly. Then you placed two pieces of gauze over the top to keep it extra clean and enclosed. 
You repositioned his arm, letting his elbow rest upright on his knee.
“I’m gonna tape you up now, so try not to get it wet, but if you do I can always rewrap it.” You told him, getting the tape ready.
Steve was surprised by your skill, expertly maneuvering the tape through his fingers, across his palm and over his wrist, repeating it a few times to ensure that the gauze wouldn’t budge and would keep the cut sealed tight.
“Where’d you learn how to do this?” He asked curiously, watching as you smoothed out the creases as you went.
You shrugged, doing one last wrap around for good measure, “I had a phase where I thought I wanted to be a nurse.” You grinned, teeth wrapping around the excess tape to rip it off before you flattened the remainder over his wrist.
He nodded slowly, stammering out,“T-thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” You brushed it off, cleaning up the bloody wipes and putting the first aid kit back in your bag after disinfecting your hands once more. 
The sun was nearly covered by the clouds, painting the sky a darker orange shade as nightfall threatened to spill over soon. At this point, the fire needed to be started, now — no more distractions and no more arguing.
“So?” You shot Steve a look, then back down at the fire pit, “Wanna tell me what I need to do to get this thing started or what?”
Steve was more than capable of getting it done himself with one good hand, but seeing as though you were pretty stern in his efforts to not carry a single stick, not even a paper light leaf, he knew this would be no different. Instead he moved to stay beside you, acting as supervisor just so he could make sure you were doing the right thing.
“You’re gonna wanna start by making a bed with the leaves.” He instructed, watching as you dropped down on your hands and knees to get low enough into the pit as you threw them in, trying your best to make it as leveled as possible.
“It looks good,” He praised, giving you a tight smile when you looked up at him waiting for the next steps.
“You want to do it the old fashioned way or do you want to use Eddie’s lighter?” He chuckled, knowing he’d pick the easy way just like you were going to.
“Fuck that, I’m not a cave woman, where the hell is the lighter?” You strided towards his and Eddie’s tent, rummaging through the metal heads duffle bag until you felt the familiar body of the lighter.
You went back into place, flicked it on and looked at Steve cautiously until he nodded, granting you permission to set the bed of leaves on fire. Blindlessly you passed the lighter up to him, watching as the flames slowly engulfed the leaves and began to crackle.
“Now start adding a few sticks. We’re gonna need to add more throughout the night to feed the fire.” He said watching as you carefully threw some in, doing your best to cover the bed beneath it until only a little of the fire was exposed.
“Alright, that’s good enough.” He bent down patting your shoulder and feeling the warmth of the fire starting to get hotter.
“Well that wasn’t so hard.” You grinned to yourself dusting off your hands and knees, happy with your outdoor accomplishments thus far.
“Technically the lighter made the fire.” He shot back, flicking it between you both as you rolled your eyes and blew the flame out.
“Oh shut it.” You muttered, going to busy yourself with something else while Steve put the lighter back where it came from.
You propped open the rest of the chairs, randomly placing them around everyones tents and two extra ones right in front of the fire pit. Steve was watching the fire, making sure it didn’t get too big or burned too slowly — so far the bed of leaves you built were holding up and it didn’t seem like it’d be going out until morning tomorrow.
After a few minutes the voices of your friends came tumbling out of the bathrooms, seeing them all dressed in their PJ’s that somehow showed they were more prepared than you. All of them decked out in long sleeves, hoodies, and sweatpants — god, you wished you got the memo.
“Damn this is cool! I’ve only ever seen a campfire in movies!” Eddie enthusiastically ran closer, peering into the bright orange pit.
You looked over at all of them, dramatically holding your arms wide open.
“Were you guys having a foursome or something?! Steve and I did all the work and he even got banged up in the process.” You said, walking over to him to lift and show them his injured hand.
Robin gasped, running up to his side to check up on him, obviously worried for her best friend, “What the heck happened.”
Steve shrugged looking over at you with a somewhat grateful look, “Grazed a sharp rock, but it’s fine. She wrapped it up and we’re all good to go now.”
“Well shit, sorry we took so long,” Jonathan apologized half-heartedly, while his mind was celebrating that you both actually seemed to work well together when it was needed. 
“Eddie and Robin thought they saw a spider in the showers so we all had to take turns using one stall.” Nancy rolled her eyes, giving you an apologetic look, the both of you knowing Robin and Eddie were a tad bit dramatic at times.
“It’s fine, but you can make it up to us by cooking.” You grinned, you and Steve giving each other a sly look before you pointed at the icebox of food waiting to be cooked.
So you and Steve finally got to kick back… in silence of course.
You both sat in the foldable chairs, watching as the four worked diligently over the fire — Nancy holding skewers of hot dogs over the flame, Robin prodding at the potatoes wrapped in foil with a pair of tongs, Jonathan toasting the hot dog buns one by one, and Eddie feeding the fire with a few more smaller sticks.
He peered over at your silent figure, watching the way you zoned off into your own world, somehow right beside him yet a world away. You were probably thinking about something else, either all the remarks you wanted to snap his way yet were held back or maybe you were making a list of new ones to call him tomorrow. 
But he cleared his throat, attempting to get you back here with him, “Do you uhh, want a drink?” Steve asked, breaking the silence.
You blinked, turning to watch him flip open the cooler to grab himself a beer while he looked back at you waiting for your request. 
“Water, please.” You said, watching as he dug his non injured hand into the ice box to pull you out an ice cold water bottle, shutting the box closed.
“Thank you.” You said softly twisting it open to take a sip.
While doing so, you furrowed your brows, noticing the way that Steve struggled with the twist off since he was using his non-dominant hand. He almost went to put the bottle in his mouth to use his pearly whites as an opener before you quickly capped off your drink and stepped in.
“Give it here.” You said, taking the glass from his hand, and tucking the lid under your shirt to stop it from pinching your skin as you effortlessly twisted it open.
“Thank you.” Steve nodded with a small smile, taking it from you as you shook your head with a grin and went back to watching your friends.
Steve couldn’t wrap his head around how you could be so selfless but at the same time so selfish. You’d do anything your friends asked of you at the drop of a hat, maybe even without them asking to begin with — you’d just jump in and do it. But when it came to him, half the time you didn’t give a damn, ignoring every warning or piece of unwarranted advice he’d thrown your way.
It was utterly confusing, considering that you were the most selfless person to him today than you’d ever been before. You could’ve left him to deal with the cut by himself seeing as though he still had one good hand left, and honestly you could’ve left him to do the stick and leaf collecting all by himself… but you didn’t.
On a regular day if he even dared to ask for your help, the answer would be “no,” with no explanation other than the fact that you just didn’t want to have anything to do with him. So it struck a chord in his mind, wondering why now? It couldn’t just be because you both were in the middle of nowhere, he knew that much. 
Why all of a sudden was there this shift, the one where you helped him without receiving anything back?
“How is the food coming along?” You whistled towards your friends.
Nancy smiled widely, holding one of the skewers up, “It’s almost done! Maybe two more minutes!”
Robin pouted, snapping the metal tongs to get your attention, “The potatoes need a bit more time, they’re still hard as rocks.” she huffed, resting her chin on her knees.
“Did you poke them with holes?” You wondered as she frowned and shook her head.
“Was I supposed to? I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” She apologized ridiculously for something that wasn’t a big deal.
You shook your head shooting her a reassuring smile.
“S’okay! They’re gonna cook through, but sometimes poking holes just speeds it up a bit… It's okay! If anything, we can have them for breakfast.”
“Okie dokie!” She smiled, happy that she didn’t entirely sit there for nothing. 
He hated himself for watching you so carefully, taking notice of the bright smile you flashed against the moonlight and how your voice was so syrupy sweet. He never took notice of it before, but you had a radiance about you, something that everyone seemed to catch except him.
Maybe it was because half the time you were shooting daggers through him and screaming your lungs off, but now, for the first time, he felt like he was seeing a different side of you — the one he tried to fight off knowing for so long.
“Are you okay?” You furrowed your brows, waving your hand in front of Steve’s face.
He shook his head, snapping out of it and nodding awkwardly, “Y-yeah, I’m fine… you?”
“I’m okay.” You told him,  turning your attention back to your friends. 
Maybe it was your tiredness that was preventing you from being the bitch that you usually were to him or maybe you felt a little bad for him because of his injuries, but whatever it was filled the air with some sort of calmness that usually wasn’t around when he was in your vicinity.
Really, on most days, if you’d caught Steve staring at you, which most times he wasn’t unless it was full of revulsion, you would have snapped and told him to take a lap, but it was almost as if you could feel what his eyes were doing.
His gaze drinking you in slowly like the beer in his hands and trying to understand your craft. He didn’t stare through you, nor at you, but to you… trying to get under your skin in a way he hadn’t done before.
It felt…weird, so awkwardly weird. On a regular day the both of you could barely go two minutes without cursing each other out the second either of you spoke a word to each other. Now all of a sudden you both had your P’s and Q’s ready for each other along with genuine concerns about the other’s wellbeing?
God, you both couldn’t wait for it to go back to normal.
“Food’s ready!” Eddie called out, slicing through the unspoken tension.
You and Steve stood up, heading towards the food knowing you were both dying to have something in your systems after a long day. Beating him to it, you plated him a hot dog swiftly moving on as if the little gesture meant nothing.
“Condiments?” You asked, picking up the ketchup bottle, giving it a good shake before squeezing a dollop on your plate.
“Huh?” He asked confused, too wound up about your niceness.
“Do you want any condiments on your hot dog?” You clarified once more, raising your brow up at him.
He needed to stop reading into things so much.
“Oh, y-yeah” He nodded, watching as you squeezed some for him, “and mustard please,” he said, and you nodded, reaching for the yellow bottle and doing the same before you capped it off and left him in the dust when you went to sit with the girls.
Eddie snuck up from behind him, just nearly whispering into his ear lowly, “Aren’t you two being friendly for once?”
He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows when Steve looked back at him a bit startled. He rolled his eyes, walking over to the chairs near their tent and plopping down.
“She’s pitying me because of my hand.”
“Or she just genuinely wants to help you out?” Jonathan chimed in taking a seat beside him.
Steve shook his head, picking up his food, “I doubt that. She’s probably gonna use this against me for the rest of eternity.” He replied before taking a bite.
“I don’t think so man, I think she actually cares, and I think you like that she cares.” Eddie waved his finger in the air before poking at his cheek.
Steve snapped his teeth, pretending to bite the finger that Eddie quickly pulled away. Jonathan laughed at the banter because of course Eddie had to be the one to stir the pot when things were staring to cool and settle.
“She doesn’t give a damn about me….”
Steve started, trailing his eyes to where you were, watching you share whispers to the girls before you met his eyes for a split second.
“She still hates my guts.” He said as you snapped your eyes back to Nancy and Robin.
“Did we miss something while you guys were gone?” Nancy raised her brows, glancing back at Steve and the boys who were engrossed in their own conversations whilst they ate.
You shook your head towards her, swallowing your food before speaking.
“Nope, why do you say that?” You buzzed, wondering why all of a sudden she thought something had happened.
Robin chimed in swiftly, nudging your arm with a weak punch, shooting you a more than obvious look.
“Cause you guys haven’t tried to kill each other for the past hour and a half and you actually could stand to sit beside him without arguing.”
You tilted your head at her incredulously.
“I thought you guys wanted us to get along?”
“Oh, we do…” Nancy nodded enthusiastically, “we’re just wondering what made it happen considering you both tried to kill each other a few hours ago.”
Letting out a deep breath, you tried to give your best irritated look under your tiredness.
“We’re just tired that’s all. We’ve run out of insults and to be quite honest, I need to recharge my battery with some sleep before attempting to murder him tomorrow. Before you know it we’ll be at each other’s throats again.” You explained hoping they would drop it.
But of course they didn’t.
“Would it kill you to, I don’t know, be a little more positive on the outlook of you and Steve’s relationship.” Robin beamed hopefully.
You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you glanced over at Steve’s figure.
“He still hates me,” you said, meeting his orbs split, “I know it,” you muttered, tearing your eyes away.
Neither Nancy, nor Eddie, or Jonathan, and Robin didn’t believe a goddamn word that came out of your mouths when it came to each other. Clearly things were starting to unfold and whatever it was that happened when they weren’t around to see it was obviously just the catalyst.
So many things that went unspoken for way too long were lingering in the air and they all knew you needed the space to confront it.After a while of eating, Nancy dramatically yawned, gesturing her boyfriend over to her with wide eyes silently telling him to go along with what she was doing, without you or Steve taking notice.
“We’re gonna head to bed now.” She announced, tiredly clinging to her boyfriend's side.
Jonathan nodded, wrapping his arms over her shoulders.
“Yeah, we’ll see you guys in the morning.” He said, the two of them beginning to get into their tents while calling out their goodnights to you all.
“Wake us up if you need anything.” You called out as they both hummed and zipped up their tarp for the night.
You were going to turn in too, really you were more than tired, just needing a good night's rest so that you’d be ready to go in the morning. Throwing out your plate, you walked over to your tent to grab your toothbrush and other nighttime necessities.
“I’m gonna go brush my teeth.” You said, walking towards the bathrooms.
“Wait up,” Steve called out, grabbing his own brush and jogging towards where you waited so you guys could go together.
Robin tilted her head towards your tent, as Eddie nodded, swiftly grabbing his lighter and pre rolls from his duffle bag and joining Robin inside the structure. That honestly wasn’t a part of the plan, seeing as though he was going to keep the blunt to himself, but now it was just convenient and would make the perfect excuse.
Steve didn’t bother to settle to the empty sink beside yours, instead he switched the water on letting you run your brush under the faucet first before he did his. You squeezed a strip of toothpaste over your bristles before doing the same to his guessing he forgot to pack his own which he totally did.
The both of you stood in front of the mirror, brushing in silence with the water trickling weakly. Your eyes drifted from his face to his hand that rested at his side stiffly. You knew it was probably still a little sore, but by tomorrow morning the pain should subside enough for him to move it a little more freely. 
“Do you want me to rewrap your hand?” You offered, mouth still full of toothpaste as you spoke mumbly. 
He met your eyes in the mirror, lifting his hand towards you, trusting your opinion rather than his own. 
“What do you think?”
You stopped your brushing for just a second, leaving the brush between your cheek and teeth as you picked up his hand and gave it a good look to see if there was any oozing blood or loose tape — which there was neither.
Putting his arm down gently, you shook your head. “Looks fine, I’ll just clean it and change the gauze in the morning.”
“Okay.” He mumbled, smiling softly.
Steve let you rinse first, leaning up against the wall as he watched you spit out the residue and wipe your mouth clean. You stepped away, letting him have his go while you reached into your small toiletry bag, placing your brush back inside and twisting open your lip balm to smooth over your lips.
“Want some?” You raised your brow, seeing him watch you while he swigged some water in his mouth.
He spat, turning off the water and looking at the tube, “Birthday cake?” He questioned the flavor on the label.
“Tastes like vanilla and strawberries.” You said as he shrugged, puckering his lips towards you as you applied a thin layer before capping it off and throwing it back into your bag.
He smacked his lips together, a bit of his tongue coming out to lick at it, “I can’t taste it?”
“You’re not actually supposed to eat it, Steve.” You chided, shaking your head as you both walked to the tents.
“Then why would they advertise it as birthday cake if I can’t taste the cake?” He retorted, still trying to lick at his slimy lips to taste it.
You didn’t want to get into with him over some stupid lip balm flavor so instead you held back, listening to his lips smacking, persistent on getting to try the artificial taste while you tried not to laugh. As you got closer to the tents, a different smell lingered in the air along with the smokey aroma of the fire.
“Do you smell that?” You sniffed the air, turning to Steve seeing him do the same.
He sniffled in a few times, deciphering the smell and after a few seconds, he knew exactly what it was, an unmistakable likeness to the back of Eddie’s van.
“It’s weed.”
You looked around, realizing the absence of Eddie and Robin who were just sitting near the campfire before you went to the bathroom. Now, you noticed your tent that was half unzipped was completely sealed and if you listened close enough you could hear the whispers being spoken from inside.
You stomped over to them, unzipping the tarp, pulling it roughly.
“Are you guys insane?” You hissed, tossing in your toiletry bag while staring at them in annoyance.
“Insanely hiiiigh.” Robin hiccuped with a giggle joined by Eddie’s snorts while he took another hit.
Steve peered in from behind you, his expression stern. 
“You’re not even supposed to bring that stuff onto the camp ground, you’re gonna get us kicked out, dumbass.” Steve scolded, ripping the joint from Eddie and putting it out against the ground.
“Hey! That was a special strain!” Eddie argued, attempting to reach for it but Steve pulled it behind his back, not letting up.
“I don’t care.” You said dryly, “you need to get out and go to your tent so I can sleep.”
You attempted to pull him out by the arm but he didn’t budge as easily as you thought he would.
“No, wait! Ten more minutes!” Robin whined, smacking your arm away from her friend, “You guys are letting all the good stuff out!” 
Zipping up the tent, you and Steve backed away defeatedly. You ran your hands through your hair, closing your eyes briefly trying not to let their little antics tick you off despite your exhaustion. 
“Ten minutes and I’m counting!” You warned, thumping the top of the tent before you flopped down onto the chairs hoping time would fly faster.
Steve looked at you apologetically, holding back his joking comment about how it didn’t matter that he built your tent, seeing as though you were locked out, but he didn’t want to make you more irritated than you already were… surprising right?
“Night?” He said, shooting you a remorseful smile when he stopped in front of your chair. 
“Goodnight, Steve.” You yawned, waving him off as you hugged yourself to bear the cold clad in nothing but your tank and shorts.
He nodded walking to his tent a few feet away, toeing off his shoes before giving you one last look until he zipped his tent closed. He reached for the small flashlight he packed, putting it on its lowest setting so that Eddie could see when he came in. Giving his pillow a pat, he laid back pulling his blanket over himself and attempting to close his eyes and rest.
Sleep should have come easy seeing as though he had been up since seven in the morning, yet he still couldn’t fall into slumber no matter how hard he tried. He knew it wasn’t the fact that he wasn’t in his bedroom because he’d been camping times before and sleep naturally came easy but tonight it just wasn’t budging.
He shifted uncomfortably, aware of the passing minutes that stretched beyond ten, and Eddie still hadn't joined him. He was totally sure he didn’t even hear you give them another warning from the outside, meaning that you were definitely asleep on that chair.
Sitting up to peek through the small gap he left open, there you were — head tilted back, eyes closed, arms hugging your body, seemingly oblivious to the bitter cold that was going to leave you with hypothermia. If he was really feeling like being an asshole to you, he would’ve left you out there to suffer the consequences of your actions, but he couldn’t.
Quietly stepping outside, Steve approached, bending down to gently nudge you awake.
“Psttt, wake up," he whispered, cautious not to disturb Nancy and Jonathan nearby who were dead asleep by now.
You responded with a sleepy mumble, lips curling up as you somehow shifted deeper into the chair that was not designed to sleep in like that no matter how tired someone could be.
He tried again, this time more rigid in his efforts by grabbing your hand and squeezing it, “Wake up.”
Feeling his toasty hand in yours, you groggily opened your eyes, dazed orbs looking into his.
“What?” You grumbled, eyes opening to be met with Steve’s filled with confusion.
Without much explaining, he squeezed your hand again, pulling you up, “You’re crashing in my tent tonight.” 
You had no choice but to let him pull you along, stumbling behind him as sleep still clouded your senses. 
“Why?” You groaned, rubbing at your eyes while he guided you to his tent where he widened the tarp, gesturing for you to enter.
“Because that special strain Eddie was talking about was for sleep. Neither of them are gonna budge till morning.” He informed you, resting a gentle hand on the small of your back to keep you up right as you lazily toed your shoes off.
“Well fuck me.” You muttered under your breath crouching when you stepped into the small space.
He snorted behind you, “In your dreams.” He said before zipping it up.
“Shut up,” you groaned, crawling towards the empty space beside him.
Now it was starting to feel like things were going back to normal.
You settled into what would have been Eddie’s side, a half fluffed pillow under your head and nothing else. Though their overall set up was way more comfortable than what you and Robin had going on in yours. Steve had layered a sleeping mat beneath the comforter, making the surface a little more plush that way no rocks or gravel could be felt under the tarp — plus it added an extra layer of warmth, something you desperately needed right now.
Laying on your back, you left a good distance between you both, wrapping your arms around yourself once again hoping that now you’d be able to sleep comfortably even if it was beside Steve. Closing your eyes, you focused on breathing trying to not think so hard about the shivers in your bones knowing you wouldn’t be able to feel them once you fell asleep.
“I can hear your teeth clattering.” Steve sighed, casting a glance towards you where you laid beside him, starting to rub your hands up and down your arms in an attempt to generate warmth.
“I obviously wasn’t prepared for this, and my blanket is in my tent.” You muttered, eyes still closed and tucking your knees into yourself to find some semblance of comfort.
He made a thoughtful noise, lifting up his blanket and turning his body towards you. You could feel the space tighten, the fuzzy material of his blanket skimming your bare skin.
“Get under here.” He whispered, nodding his head when you finally opened your eyes looking at him with uncertainty and confusion.
You didn’t know what to make of it, if this was some kind of cruel joke he was playing on you, where he was actually going to hog it for himself and let you spend the rest of the night with your teeth clattering. 
But deep down he wasn’t all that bad, sure he poked fun at you and made your blood boil like no other, but when it came down to morals, he had some saved for you… at least for now it seemed like. 
Steve raised his brow at your hesitance, lifting the blanket up higher.
“What’re you waiting for? Do you want to freeze to death because by all means let me know.” He challenged pretending as if he wouldn’t care. 
You swallowed thickly, turning your back towards him as you cautiously scooted under the blanket, feeling its comforting weight draped over your body. His fingers funneled you over more of the material, letting you have most of it as you quietly thanked him, tucking the throw under your neck where your fingers held it tight.
This was totally out of character coming from Steve knowing it would’ve hurt his ego a lot less if he’d just given you the blanket for yourself and spent the night with no covering. But for some reason you couldn’t place the gesture, not knowing why he would go out of his way for you or if this was some ulterior motive to hold against you in the future.
“I thought you wouldn’t mind me dead.” You said, trying to find a way to ease the awkwardness that you felt in your mind when he was just inches behind you. 
“I don’t,” he laughed, his breath grazing the back of your neck. “But I don’t want to haul your frozen body in the back of Eddie’s van.” He added with a playful glint.
There was your old Steve, back.
“C-can we just go to bed?” You stuttered, clearing your throat as you rested your head deeper into the pillow just wanting to dream off somewhere, anywhere but right there in reality. 
“Sure.” He agreed, shifting slightly before settling down and closing his eyes.
Silence enveloped you both, just the sounds of crickets from the outside and gentle crackling of the fire that burned slow in the air.
Part of you wished he maybe would have left you out there to fend for yourself or maybe just threw his blanket over you for good measure, but somehow, being in here with him, tucked away from the rest of the world made you feel even more awake than before. It was obvious, neither of you were going to be falling asleep so easily, the tension so thick you could barely breathe through it.
Steve at least tried to fall asleep, focusing on something to dream about but you were overwhelming his senses making his nerves go into overdrive. Sure he already reeked of all of your products that he had borrowed in the shower, but now it was a combination of their scents attached to your skin and hair that was filling his nostrils. It didn’t help that you unconsciously let out those soft noises, as your body shook, not fully taking in the warmth just yet.
Shifting slightly, your back unintentionally met his forearms that rested behind you. His eyes snapped open, feeling the coolness against his skin, shifting up slightly just enough to see your face.
“How are you still freezing?” Steve yelped, pulling his arm back from your frosty skin. 
You sighed heavily, repositioning your body to face him with a grunt, throwing all caution to the wind and not caring about how intimate this was. Both of you had already crossed so many lines that defined your hate fueled relationship… one more thing couldn’t hurt.
“I’m a-always cold.” You whispered, jaw wobbling through the shivers taking deep breaths to try to relax yourself. 
Steve raised his eyebrows and stared at you worriedly, “So you dying is just inevitable tonight, that’s what you’re saying?”
It came out a bit too sarcastic than he meant it to be since he was just genuinely curious to know if you were going to make it out alive tonight or if you needed to get into Eddie’s van and crank up the heater. 
You rolled your eyes, whispering in frustration.
“I can’t help it alright! Had I been in my tent, I’d be fine!”
Steve brushed your irritation off, instead moving his arms under the blanket, hovering his hands over your waist.
“Well you’re not, so I’m gonna swallow my pride and do something about it alright?” He said slowly letting his hands slide over your cold skin, watching as your face twisted with confusion. 
“What are you… oh god.” You groaned realizing exactly where this was going – a mirror to earlier in the lake, but this time you weren’t so disgusted. 
He was practically a human furnace, pulling you closer into him barely leaving inches while the warmth from his body cascaded onto yours. You tried not to tense or move abruptly, aware that his bad hand was weakly grasping your back and the last thing you wanted was to make it worse.
Instead you froze, breathing stopped for a second as you searched his face trying to see how he was feeling about this whole thing. He didn’t look displeased or annoyed that he was doing this for you, instead he was calm, cool, and collected as if he wasn’t holding the girl who tried to stab him a few hours ago.
“Do you have a better idea?” Steve suggested, looking down at you awaiting to see your next moves: either telling him to fuck off or staying silent for the rest of the night.
To his surprise, you eased into his hold, hooking your own arms under his and closing the rest of the space between you. Your chest was pressed up against his, one of your legs fastened over his hip, while the other knocked against his thigh. It was a definite contrast to the hours earlier where he practically lugged you through the lake, if only you knew things would be so different now.
“We are not to speak about this after tonight. Not even a peep.” You warned, squirming impossibly closer to him before shooting him a  serious look.
He nodded, eyes shutting tightly like he was trying to dream it away.
“I’m erasing this from my memory as we speak.”
“Goodnight.” You whispered, closing your eyes, hoping that would be the end of it.
“Night.” He muttered back.
Third times a charm… or maybe not.
In this position you could feel everything and there was no way to escape it.
His warm breath fanning over your face, his chest rising and falling against yours, the soft thumpthump of his heart echoing beneath your ear, and the hair on his arms delicately brushing against your exposed skin — everything was him wrapped up in your arms. Literally.
Steve could feel it, the way you tried to control your breathing by taking a breath in when he breathed out. But you were trying too hard to time it perfectly, overthinking and making sure he didn’t notice when it’s all he could really do, your back heaving against his hands was all it took for him to speak up.
“Relax,” Steve murmured gingerly digging his fingertips into your skin with his eyes still closed
“H-huh?” You opened your eyes watching his serene features that showed he wasn’t as edgy as you.
“I can feel you…” He started, voice low and silky as he spoke, “you’re nervous.”
You shook your head as if he could see you, swallowing the lump in your throat.
“I…I’m not nervous, it’s just—this is different, we don’t do this.” You explained only partially truthfully considering you were more than just nervous.
“It’s just for tonight.” He said trying to iron out your worries the best that he could.
“No, I know, it’s just that—”
“I can feel your eyes on me, you know?”
Steve chuckled, peeking one of his eyes open, catching you in the act of trying to pinch them closed before he noticed.
You crumbled, letting out a weak laugh as you just opened them, finding him doing the same. The two of you staring at each other, the only sliver of light from the small beam in the corner of the tent, accompanied with the moonlight seeping weakly past the tarp.
Steve lifted his head just a bit, gesturing back to his bag just a few feet away from where you both were in the middle of the area. 
“Do you just want to take the blanket? I have a hoodie I can use in my—” His arms ever so slightly loosed and you stopped him.
Your fingertips squeezed tenderly into back, your leg pushing down on his hip to stop him from moving any further.
“No, its fine, this is fine. I don’t mind sharing.”
“You sure?” He laughed quietly, resting his head back down on the pillow.
“Cause you don’t have to pretend you want to share? We hate each other so I’m very familiar with our dislike when we’re forced to be around one another.” He reminded you, his tone light hearted not exuding any malice this time around.
You swallowed, nodding your head reassuringly as you let up your tense hold on him.
“I know…I-I still hate you, but I can deal with this for one night.”
“And you’re okay with this? Us… cuddling?” He asked, just wanting to be extra sure because cuddling didn’t have to be a part of it if you didn’t want it. 
“Positive.” You hummed, giving him one last look before you fluttered your eyes closed.
“Okay… good, good.” He hushed, nodding more so to himself content that you seemed to relax a bit more.
He should’ve closed eyes and went off to sleep, but now it seemed like all he wanted to do was watch you. Make sure that you were comfortable enough in his arms and warm enough to brave the night until morning and then you’d never have to be this close to him again.
He never took his eyes off your face, taking all of you in at once — long lashes kissing the skin under your eyes, cheek cozily pressed into the fluff of the pillow, lips relaxing in a straight smile and under his touch your breathing was stable, synchronized with his. He couldn’t believe he was holding you right now, getting the chance to see you like this — it was his biggest privilege.
You could feel his eyes, he obviously sucked at taking his own advice and he was clearly proving your point that he was a hypocrite… but you already knew that. 
You knew a lot of things about Steve, mostly all of the bad and annoying parts about him, but you also knew the good parts. The ones you blocked off and stored way back in your head because you never wanted to associate them with him. 
The fact that he wasn’t all that bad under those preppy button ups and head of hair.
He loved your friends, just as much as you did, treated them with kindness and savored every moment he spent with them. He knew how to take care of six rascals all by himself while also being the one they ran to when it came to all their teenage problems. He never showed up empty handed to any hangouts, always doing his best to bring anything whether it was a plain bag of chips or the camping equipment he had hidden in his garage.
Steve knew how to push your buttons, and perhaps that was the very thing that frustrated you the most — the realization that he had an undeniable effect on you. And at the same time, it was the very thing you were terrified of knowing — that if things would have been different, maybe the irritation you both had felt for each other could have just been affection from the get go.
The thick and imposing walls of animosity you’d built up for each other, was just a defensive mechanism. A weak hollow barrier that tried to disguise what you really felt, something so strong that only now broke through the bounds and unleashed a flood of emotions.
What was one more line crossed, when you both already jumped bridges?
“Steve?” You called out to him, hoping he wasn’t pretending to be asleep.
“Yeah?” His reply came swiftly, and his eyes flickered to watch your lips form the next set of words.
“You still hate me right?” You suspected, running your tongue over the bottom of your lip as you waited.
He nodded his head obviously though you couldn’t see him.
“Y-yeah. Why?” He furrowed his brows puzzled by the sudden question.
“What do you hate about me?” You pressed on.
A deep breath fanned across your face, followed by the tsking of his tongue, “I don’t think we should—”
“Tell me, Steve… please?” Your hands pressed firmly against his back, a silent plea echoing through the touch, not because you wanted to hear the words coming from him, but because you needed them.
He swallowed thickly, watching as you waited with your brows raised up yet eyes still closed. He didn’t understand why you wanted this from him all of the sudden. Why now when all his mind could do was fill up with the parts of you that he wanted to forget? The parts of you he silently spent hyperfixating on because you thought more about the people around you rather than yourself and he wished he could be half the person you were.
He liked to joke that you were his competition, his rival of sorts, but in actuality, he could never measure up to your level of compassion and he was more than fine with that. Settling for watching on the sidelines with a convincing snarkiness on his face, while on the inside his bones weakened and his brain went haywire wondering how you could ever exist in the same lifetime as him.
There was nothing he truly hated about you, he didn’t think there ever could be.
Mindlessly his fingers moved along your back, rubbing small circles and sweeping across your soft skin before he cleared his throat from the roughness and finally spoke into the millimeters between you.
“I umm, I hate the way you never forget about something I did.” He started, mind wandering to the afternoon where you reminded him of such instances with Dustin. 
“Hmmm.” You hummed, nodding your head along and relaxing your features now that he was working with you.
“I hate the way you always remind me to slow down when I’m driving around with the kids.” He admitted, guiltily confessing to his occasional speeding when they were running late and so was he.
You grunted, snickering weakly, “I need them all in one piece.” 
He agreed, a faint smile tugging at his lips, acknowledging your concern.
His fingers stalled against your back, taking a sharp breath in, letting the words rest on the tip of his tongue whilst he gave himself a moment. A moment to take you in, to see you as such, to give himself a little longer with the mystery hanging in the air wondering if you could feel what he felt and understand what he was about to say.
“And I hate the way you look at everyone except me.” He said it so quietly that if you weren’t listening close enough you would have missed it.
But how could you ever let something like that float away so easily?
You flickered your eyes open, looking up at him past your lashes, staring into his orbs for all he was worth. Like he was the only thing to ever exist before your eyes and all you wanted to do was memorize him. 
“Like what?” You whispered, never breaking eye contact.
“Like this…” He proclaimed, pulling his injured hand away from your back and bringing it forward to cradle your face ever so gently.
His thumb traced your cheek, your breath catching in your throat, letting him gaze at you in a way he never had before. It was concerning how quickly you established that from this moment on, Steve was the only person who would ever have the privilege of seeing like this. Stripped down in the confines of a stupid tent, that somehow felt like its own little oasis away from the rest of the scary world right outside.
It was just you and him and your own world.
“You look at everyone with these eyes, so eager and happy.” He said, trailing down to the corner of your lips, brushing his thumb across delicate skin.
“You smile at them like they’re everything to you.” he said, nearly letting his hand slip away as if he was unworthy of such a feeling.
But before he could, you brought your hands up, wrapping gently around his wrists to keep him there like your life depended on it. Wanting nothing more than to show him that he could — he was willing and able, and had all the permission from you to stay here, as long as you could get him to.
“I hate that you don’t look at me like that.” He swallowed, shaking his head more so himself, because all he ever wanted was this and for so long he pushed it away.
“I am right now.” You finally spoke, almost breathlessly, trying to reassure his anxieties about the past, the same ones you were feeling. 
“Hate that it took this long.” He confessed with a weak laugh.
You smiled half apologetically. “Me too.”
It was all the confirmation you both needed.
No more lines.
No more bridges burnt.
Nothing keeping you both from the truth.
He had bit the bullet and you had jumped into the deep end and there was no going back from here. Time wasn’t stopping for either of you despite the intensity of the moment. There was clearly a beginning, you and him having a rough one, but that didn’t mean that your ending had to be so treacherous. 
The gentle gesture of him pushing the strands of hair that fell over your face, sent shivers down your spine, a sort of electric touch that should have had you running away but all you felt was the need for more. He didn’t miss the way your eyes shot down to his lips, staring at them wondering his next moves before you met his again. 
“I’m gonna kiss you now, if that’s okay.” He whispered the words ever so quietly, leaving them to linger in the space as a delicate invitation hoping it was one you’d accept. 
“More than okay.” You nodded, closing your eyes, feeling his face inch closer to yours.
The first touch of his lips upon yours felt like sparks flying, holy ground beneath you both as you took your time, exploring everything in between — what you imagined it would be like and the unexpected that had you both going down the twists and turns just trying to familiarize yourself with each other.  
His lips moved against yours unhurried, gentle but deliberate, not daring to miss even an inch of you. You felt as if he was taking your breath away, leaving you to succumb to a sort of poise that usually never came this easily. With every press and swipe across your lips, you were jumping and falling into somewhere you never wanted to leave. 
You nearly wanted to cry when he pulled away, leaving you only to catch your breath, his chest moving up and down deeply, while you were ready to go again and again and–
“W-was that okay?” He asked, fighting the urge to kiss you again and make you go dizzy. 
You smiled like an idiot, lips blushing with a pink as bright as your cheeks.
“Perfect. Can we do it again.”
“Yeah.” He beamed, moving to hover up on his elbows with his face above yours, giving you the access to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him into you. 
The second kiss was filled with hunger, the both of you trying to make up for the lost time you had spent at each other's throats when you could've been glued to each other's mouths. But you were positive you would both be able to make up for it eventually, and tonight felt like it was going to be the first of many. 
His teeth barely grazed over your bottom lip, prompting a moan to rip through your throat before you pulled away breathlessly. 
“I—I want you.” You spoke, voice full teetering between desperation and confidence. 
Steve wasn’t expecting it at all despite the circumstances that just took place with the kiss. He’d be fine if all you wanted to do was spend the rest of the night making out like depraved teenagers or if you wanted to cuddle until you fell asleep. 
He swallowed, looking into your eyes searching for any hesitancy on your features but you were positive that there wasn’t anything you wanted more than Steve.
“Are you sure?” He implored, desperately wanting to hear the words fall from your lips. 
“With everything inside of me.” You nodded with a smile bringing your lips back to his once more, not being able to help yourself. 
You could feel his grin against yours, a self indulgent one that still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that he was kissing you with every fiber of his being hoping that with each press and slide it would compensate for how much of an asshole he’d been to you. 
He moved his lips, creating a trail of kisses over your jaw and down your neck, gently sucking the skin to pepper you in love bites. 
“P-please, Steve,” You moaned, moving your head to give him more access to the sweet spot on your neck, “Need more.” 
He licked over the hickey, pressing a quick kiss to the developing bruise before he unwrapped your arms from his neck, placing them on your sides. Nudging your shoulder a bit, you laid fully on your back while he moved onto his knees, staring at you with a look so promising and true.  
“You don’t have to beg, at least not for tonight. I swear.”
His fingers smoothed over your sides feeling the warmth coming to you quicker now. 
“I want you…so so bad.” You pouted, reaching for his hands to intertwine in yours. 
“You have me.”
He brought yours up, placing a chaste kiss on the back of your hand before he let go and hovered above the waistband of your shorts.
“Can I?”
You nodded, lifting your hips slightly as he glided them off your legs, stripping away one layer of clothing yet revealing another — a black, lacy, number that definitely wasn’t planned for tonight, but he wasn’t complaining, in fact he found it a little humorous taking into the account the occasion. 
“You packed a thong for camping?”
Steve snorted lightly, kissing the inside of your thigh as you blushed, tucking your cheek into your shoulder.
“I…I was rushing and packed it accidentally.” You told him, silently thanking the universe and your horrible planning that somehow got this perfectly. 
“Lucky me.” He rasped, toying with the lace around your hip bone, peppering kisses across your thighs, not making any move to strip you free of them yet as he wanted to worship all of you first. 
You sat up slightly, running your hand over his covered shoulder blade.
“C-could you take your shirt off?”
 “Course I can.” He nodded quickly, sitting up just enough to work his arms through the shirt.
The garment was quickly pulled off his body, thrown off the side wherever he had flung your shorts. 
“I can take mine off, too—” You started, moving up a bit more as you pulled at the bottom of your cami but before you could get any farther, he stopped you, squeezing your wrist gently.
“Only if you want to, s’okay if you don’t.” He assured you, wanting to know this was all about you being comfortable.
You smiled warmly and shook your head at his politeness, still trying to take all of him in, not just for the body before you, but for how attentive he had been towards you. 
“No, I do… I just—just wanted to feel more of you, that’s why I asked.” You explained with a light laugh. 
“You’re cute.” He chuckled, rubbing his hands up and down your thighs as you pulled the material over your head discarding it.
Absentmindedly your arms wrapped around yourself, bashfully trying to hide away as if that would make Steve forget that you were topless in front of him. Finally he got to see what the slivers of skin that was hidden away beneath clothing or in this case, made an appearance just hours ago.
“Don’t hide. You’re so beautiful.” Steve spoke softly, reassuring you of whatever nervousness you were feeling, slowly lowering your arms down letting him see you completely. 
You could see and hear it in the way his breath hitched in his throat, eyes stuck on your chest before a smirk played on his features and he finally trailed them back up to your eyes. 
“So you’re always excited to see me, then?” He teased, reaching up to run his hands along your ribcage, feeling your laughter rumble beneath his skin.
“Shut up.” You chided, pushing playfully at his shoulder. 
“You got just the thing for me to do just that.” He tilted his head down and you nodded, giving him the green light to do what he pleased.
His lips wrapped around your sensitive skin, peak hardening in this mouth while the other was met with the flick and roll of his fingers. You were sure by the end of it, your chest would be littered with love bites of all shapes and sizes. Steve made the extra effort to glide across your chest, showing both breasts the attention they so rightfully deserved with his mark left behind. 
“Mmm, S-steve.” You moaned, arching up into him and nails grazing at the nape of his neck. 
“Gotta make up for lost time.” He mumbled against your, sucking another hickey but this time right above your sternum, completing the other half to make a lopsided heart that you’d see in the morning. 
“I want more.” You begged, finally getting the courage to pull him away, eyes peering down at him. 
He smacked his lips, nodding as he leaned up and pecked your lips, murmuring against them.
“I got you, princess.”
His kisses trailed down your body, taking his sweet time leaving your skin with a plethora of hickies, some small and subtle, and others that would settle darker by morning. Something about it, the possessiveness of it all added to the longing, knowing he was marking you as his — and he was the only person you wanted to belong to right now… forever even. 
Placing a final kiss above the waistband of your intimates, he looked up at you, toying with the fabric. 
“Let me get these off you, yeah?”
You hummed, letting your feet sit flat on the comforter, slightly lifting your hips up to help him. His fingers slipped under the lace, tugging them away from your core and off your legs, putting them off to the side. 
“So fucking pretty.” He murmured, gently pulling your knees wider apart enough for him to slot himself between them and lay on his stomach. 
His eyes were fixated on your core, taking you in with such hunger but at the same time awe, as if he was admiring the most beautiful work of art just before he would dig his claws into it. No ones had ever looked at you like that, taking their time and drinking you in, it almost made you want to shoo him away with all the attention he was giving you. 
“Steveeee.” You whined, laughing behind your hands that covered your face. 
“Why’re you hiding?” He puffed out a short laugh, splaying his hands over your stomach rubbing gently. 
You pulled fingers apart, staring at him timidly. “I—I don’t know, I just never thought that we’d… you know.”
Stop pretending like we hated each other and confessed our feeling then deciding to fuck in a dingy tent in the middle of nowhere? Yeah he totally knew what you meant. 
“I know what you mean,” He placed a reassuring kiss on the inside of your knee.
“We can stop whenever you want okay? No questions asked, you say the word and I’ll stop and we’ll put our clothes back on and—”
“I don’t want to stop. Promise, just a little nervous.” You assured him, sitting up slightly to bring your hand to his cheek, thumbing the freckles peppering his skin. 
“Don’t be, I’m gonna make you feel so good. I promise.” He smiled, leaning into your touch and kissing the pulse point on your wrist. 
Steve nodded, silently telling you to lie back and let him fulfill his promise which you were sure he was going to over deliver on. And god were you right. 
His tongue swiped between your folds, shuddering beneath him you couldn’t help pinch your eyes closed trying to bottle up the feeling and keep it in your memory forever. 
“F-fuck,” You moaned, relished in the feeling of each pass and kiss, “Feels so good, Steve.”
His thumb swiped over your clit, breath fanning over your skin as he watched your back arch with a smirk on his face.
“Told you so, princess.”
He dove back in, tongue flicking over your sensitive button while he worked two fingers into you slowly. The stretch of his thick digits and the mixture of his warm tongue sent your hands flying, in search of something to grab and immediately you went for Steve’s hand. 
Somehow through the pleasure you didn’t feel the tape on his hand, that is until you squeezed and felt the layer blocking the contact of skin on his. The tape slightly crumpled in your hold causing your eyes to fly open, staring down at him. 
“S-shit, I’m so sorry!” You whispered, quickly letting go of his hand nearly backing away from Steve thinking that you hurt him.
His fingers abruptly left your core, quickly slinging his arm over your hips stopping you from moving away from him. The bad hand immediately reached out for yours, intertwining your fingers together despite your uncertainty that didn’t want to immediately hook between his. 
“S’okay, I’m okay, promise.” He assured you, kissing your mound before shooting you a wink as he squeezed yours.
“You can grab my hand, squeeze as tight as you want. The nurse who wrapped it up did a hell of a job, thing isn’t gonna hurt me.”
It made you giggle, kissing his knuckles, murmuring against them,  “Hmm, still, I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, lips brushing against your center as he got back to work.
“Shhh it’s okay.”
Steve was always more of a giver, something he usually bragged about and you thought was absolute bullshit, but now you understood seeing as though he was definitely giving you something to come back for, in more ways than one. 
His tongue dipped lower, dragged up from your aching hole to your sensitive clit.
“You like that?” his voice vibrated across your sensitive skin, sending your body into squirms. 
“Yes…p-please, right there,” You moaned, gripping his hand tightly as he repeated the action. “Just like that, baby.”
“Say it again.” He demanded though it more so came out as a desperate plea. 
“Baby?” 
He let out a groan, nipping at the inside of your thigh, “I love hearing it from you…c’mon, let me get you there, baby.”
It was the end of the beginning from then on out with one goal in his head. Feasting on you like you were his last meal trying to savor your sweetness and all at once engrain the image of your blissful face in his mind and those addicting moans that dared to get louder with every second that passed. 
“I’m so close.” You whispered, trying to keep your voice down,  “I—I, Steve, baby, please.” 
Your thighs began shaking around his head, stomach heaving in deeper and twisting tightly, teeth digging into your lip trying to muffle the sounds of pleasure that wanted to escape, and your hand clutching onto his for dear life – the only thing grounding you while his mouth sent you into ecstasy. 
“Cum for me.” He vibrated against you, lips wrapped around your bud as he sucked and watched you explode. 
“Baby, f-fuck.” You gasped, looking down to meet his eyes before it was too much for you to handle. 
Euphoria washed over you, similarly to the colors of the sunset. Bright oranges and pinks flashed across your vision, painting your skin with the feverish warmth before it fizzled out into darkness, specks of white making their appearance as your body buzzed.
Steve didn’t pull away until you stopped moving your hips into and away from him, trying to chase and escape the pleasure all at once until you came down. Even then he didn’t dare to leave you just yet, taking his time to wait until you came down from your high. He pressed gentle kisses over your inner thighs, making his way up to your midsection, resting his chin there, your chest moving beneath him as you caught your breath. 
“Hey pretty.” He murmured, your eyes peeking open to see him — lips and chin coated with a sheen of you in the best way possible. 
You swallowed, giving his hand three squeezes and you cleared your throat from the hoarseness, “H-hi Stevie.”
Stevie. It was a stupid nickname you used against him all the time because he hated it, but right now it seemed to have the same effect on him as you calling him baby just a little while ago. 
Using his elbows as leverage, he scooted up to you chuckling as you pulled him down bringing his lips to yours as you tasted your essences on him. Your legs hiked up around his hips, bringing his clothed crotch down to your core, just a piece of fabric separating you both, but even then the tent in his pants wasn’t hard to pick up on. 
“Lay down for me, please.” You mumbled against his lips, poorly attempting to roll him on his back despite his sheer strength. 
He pulled away only slightly, furrowing his brows at you. “Baby, baby, we don’t have to if you—”
“I want to, so bad,” You pressed your hips up into him, inducing a moan to rip from his mouth, though still he didn’t roll over just yet. 
You frowned, loosening your legs, hoping you didn’t cross the line,  “Do you not want to?”
Quickly he shook his head, moving to hold your face in his hands. “I do, sweetheart, you don’t know how badly I want to have you. But I kinda feel horrible here,” He grimaced, face twisting with embarrassment. 
“W-was hoping to have our first time together in a bed, preferably mine but yours could work too, but–”
“Wait!” You cut him off with surprise, lips curling up.
“You thought about this?” You suspected with a grin, teasing him with a poke on the cheek.
He tried to play it off with an unconvincing scoff that didn’t cover the croak in his voice, “M-maybe?” 
You beamed, running your thumb along his bottom lip, batting your eyes up at him. “Well if you’re okay with it, we can totally use your bed the next time, and the next, and then the—”
“Of course.” He agreed quickly, making you laugh as you pushed his chest away
“Lay down for me, baby.”
He did as you said, taking your spot as you sat up on your knees pulling at the waistband of his sweats, working them off his ankles. His cock sprung up, the tip blushing with a bright read, aching and throbbing to be inside of you. 
“Commando? And you want to call me naughty?” You teased, licking the palm of your hand and wrapping it around his length, pumping slowly. 
He let out a shaky laugh, cursing at himself, “Kinda was regretting it earlier.” 
“Why’s that?” You began shifting to lay flat on your stomach. 
“Was worried you’d notice.” He mumbled. 
His hands reach out to run up and down your back, soothing your skin desperately wanting to touch you despite the closeness already. 
“Notice what?” You hummed gazing up at him. 
“How hard I got when y-you wrapped me up.” He admitted, shuddering when you licked a stripe from the base to his glistening tip. 
“Me serving you do it for you?” You half-joked, pepping kisses back down. 
“Fuck no, that wasn’t it…” He shook his head, sitting up slightly to watch you. 
“You just—f-fuck, you knew what you were doing and you took control and you…you fucking called me big boy and t-the way you bit the tape off.”
Clearly you wounded him up so much, something you never thought was capable, but alas the hate you both supposedly shared for each other had no bounds when it came to this sort of tension. 
“Make a mess for me big boy, and I’ll clean it up, yeah?” You winked, finally giving him what he wanted, wrapping your mouth around him. 
“S-shit, baby.” He hissed moving your hair towards one side to see you clearly. 
“Making me feel so good, princess.” His hips resisted the want to thrust up into your mouth, controlling himself knowing that good things always took time and you were already making him feel great. 
“So big.” You murmured, messily kissing the tip of his cock, giggling at the way his hips stuttered up knocking closer to your lips. 
“Just right for you though right? Only yours baby.” He groaned, throwing his head back onto the pillows. 
“Mhmm,” you hummed, wrapping your lips around the tip, sending vibrations up his sensitive length.
“Pretty too.” You whispered, pulling away teasingly. 
He let out a hoarse laugh, shaking his head ridiculously. “Can’t be when I’ve got the prettiest sight right here.”
The compliment went straight to your core, the need to make him feel good was the motivation in your movements. Your wrist moved over the part that you couldn’t quite fit in your mouth. 
“That's it baby, taking me so well,” He praised lowly trying to keep his voice quiet enough for just you to hear. 
His fingers threaded through the roots of your hair, neither pulling or pushing, just holding you there and letting you go at your own pace. 
“Shit, babe, y’gotta stop.” He hissed, tugging you off his length as you moaned, pouting up at him.
“Want to taste you…please Stevie?” You begged, mouth trailing down to his heavy sack, taking one of them in your mouth, before popping off only to mumble against them, “Let me taste you, please baby.” 
How was he going to deny you, then?
“F-fucking shit, yeah, okay doll, I’ll give it to you.” He moaned, nodding more so at himself, trying to starve off the orgasm as long as he could knowing he was going to burst any second now. 
You grinned, releasing his balls with a pop, quickly taking him into your mouth again. 
“I’m c-cumming, fuck—” 
He let the rest die in his throat, knowing that if he went any longer he’d wake up your friends and cause an even bigger mess that he nor you wanted to clean up right now. 
“How was that?” You grinned, swiping your thumbs over the inner corners of your mouth, sucking off the remnants of him. 
The act alone made his cock twitch, somehow springing back up ready for you. 
“C’mere, you minx.” He whispered with a smirk, threading his hands towards the back of your head to gently tug you up to his face. 
“Hmmm, Steve.” You giggled, letting it get cut short with his lips pressing deeply onto yours.
“You’re making it very hard for me to hate you.” He accused, pulling away from you with a playful smirk. 
“You or your dick?” You wiggled your brows, eyes lowering between the both of you where his hardness rested against his thigh. 
“I’m kidding… about the me hating you thing, not you making me hard.” He clarified, holding your chin between his forefingers. 
It was clear that the both of you couldn’t really hate each other. 
“You wanna be on top? I think it’ll be easier for you to control it at your pace.” He suggested, giving your hips a squeeze before letting his hands roam across your bottom. 
“Okay.” You whispered, forehead resting against his as he snuck a hand between you both, pumping his length one, two, three times before slowly lowering yourself on him. 
Taking in a deep breath, your eyes pinched closed, a gasp leaving your mouth feeling his breach your walls. 
“S’okay, baby, take your time.” He murmured, kissing the tip of your noses while his hands rubbed comforting circles over your hip. 
“Y-you’re so deep already.” You whined, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, overwhelmed by the stretch. 
His bottom lip jutted out, pouting at you with his eyes so soft, though his mouth spoke a tune so condescending and downright filthy.
“Aww baby, I know, but you’re taking it so well right?” He went a step further, resting his palm over your cheek, prompting you to look him in the eyes as you nodded quickly, wanting nothing more than to feel all of him.
Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling it away from your cheek, “Touch me, please? I-I just need a little—” 
He understood immediately, dropping the cocky facade for just a moment to make you feel the most comfortable knowing the first time was always the most intense. 
“Shhh, I got you, I’m right here.” He swiped his tongue over two digits, working them between your bodies until he found your clit, rubbing gentle circles over the bud, just enough to help distract you from the initial stretch. 
“O-oh, fuck, Steve.” You keened, focusing on the pleasure and stretch jumbled all in one. 
“That’s a good girl.” He praised lowly. 
You tightened around his girth, eyes shutting blissfully at the overwhelming feeling and the praise that spilled past his lips. He noticed it right away, chuckling more so at himself because all of the times he had called you pet names for fun, perhaps you liked it more than you let on. 
“You like being called a good girl?” He challenged, his free hand tightening around your hips to stop you from rocking against him. 
You whined through a nod, opening your eyes and pleading for him to let you keep up the movements. 
“Words.” He urged, still not giving into you until he heard what he needed to hear. 
You swallowed thickly, lips parting as you whispered softly. “Y–yeah, like when you call me that.” 
He smirked, leaning up just enough to peck your lips, mumbling against them as his arm loosened from your hips and he settled comfortably on his back. Slowly but surely your hips proceeded where they left off, moving experimentally taking the time to adjust to his sheer size. 
“Atta girl, gotta tell me what you like so I can make you feel good baby.” 
“L-like it when you talk to me.” 
“You do?’ 
You hummed quickly, nodding your head, “So much.” 
Growing needier you lifted your hips up slightly before fucking yourself back down onto him. Your lips parted with a pleasurable moan while he growled, throwing his head back against the pillows. 
“Oh, there you go sweet girl. Fuck, already taking me so good.” He said, digging his fingertips into your hip bone. 
“F-full, m’so full of you.” You sighed, slowly repeating your movements trying to make it last as long as you could. 
“But you love it right?” He murmured, words soothing and arousing at the same time. 
You nodded admittingly, “Please don’t stop…S-steve please,” 
The shake of your thighs and the uneven grinding told him all he needed to know, and he was more than happy to let you sit back and give you your second fix of the night. 
He pressed himself off his back, arms wrapping around your body and hugging you close. Your limbs enveloping his neck while you rested your forehead against his, breathy moans leaving your lips as the new position pushed him deeper within you if that was even possible. 
Steve’s lips brushed yours, an oath tumbling past them, “I won’t baby, promise. Just wanna make you feel good okay? Be a good girl.” 
It was all you needed to hear before the waves of pleasure came crashing down with no breaks. You were practically putty in his hands, your hips moving against him the way he wanted you to. He set the pace and found the rhythm that had you nearly slumping against him. 
“So fucking tight, your pussy’s squeezing me baby,” He muttered, lifting your hips higher as his own thrusted deeper from below.
“Making me feel so good, princess. Does it feel good for you too? Just what you need right?” 
If you weren’t so blissed out with pleasure, perhaps you would have the ability to actually give him the words he wanted to hear, but you felt an entire universe away, so caught up in Steve and everything he was making you feel. His words were only taking you higher, adding to pleasure and bringing you closer to the end. 
You managed to take a sharp breath in, jaw shaking as your teary eyes blinked at him, “J-just need you now…only want you.” 
He moaned darkly, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he tried to starve off his own orgasm that was teetering the edge. The only thing keeping him from letting go was making sure that you got there first, just so he could watch you unravel and hear the sweet sounds that could never be erased from his memory. 
“C’mere, sweetheart,” 
His thrusts slowed just enough for one of his hands to snake up towards the back of your neck, pulling you in for a kiss before guiding your head into the juncture of his neck. 
“It’ll go deeper this way,” He murmured, placing a quick peck to your cheek before continuing the onslaught of ecstasy. 
“Oh God…Steve….” You whimpered, nails digging into his skin. 
“You’re mine now.” He said through gritted teeth, fingertips practically bruising your back, “no one’s gonna get you like this except me, got that?” 
All you could do was nod against him, humming out an agreement as you tried to keep your voice down, finally aware that your friends would be able to hear you both if you didn’t try to get a semblance of control. 
“Fuck, shit babe, so perfect, just taking all of me inside you huh? You’re the only one who ever made me feel this— shit, so good.” 
He was just making it harder for you to keep quiet at that point. 
“O–only want you…I–I only want you like this.” You murmured, pulling your face away from his neck just enough for his eyes to catch yours. 
Steve couldn’t help himself, thrusting up into you with a slow yet deep vigor, bringing his lips to yours and stealing your breath away. He never quite imagined that this was the way you both would be confessing your feelings and begging to finally be each others’ but he wasn’t complaining — he just wanted to seal the deal and show you how real it was to him. 
“Cum for me, baby. Be a good girl and do it for me…just me.” He mumbled against you, feeling the tightening around his shaft, the convulsing of your walls signaling your release. 
“F-fuck! Oh my god, Steve.” 
Your body shook, eyes shutting tightly as your hips rutted against his stilled ones letting you ride out your orgasm as he held your tight and shushed your moans soothingly. 
You slowly opened your eyes, staring at him dazingly, “Wanna feel you cum, give it to me, please.” 
He nodded, letting your face untuck itself from his neck and instead grabbing his cheeks to keep his eyes on yours. Eyes silently begging for his release while your lips parted with shallow moans still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm followed by a small ripple of pleasure that came again. 
His thrusts became frantic, nose flaring with a deep breath taken, pushing his hips as far as they could go forcing you to collapse against him as he filled you.
“That’s it, baby…hmm, so deep.” You smiled lazily into his chest, nails raking down gently across his shoulders and down his arms as he came down. 
His heartbeat rang through your ears along with the uneven breathing the both of you were sharing, letting the 
“Well,” He huffed, staring down at you, smoothing your tousled hair down, “That’s one way to warm up.” 
You rolled your eyes playfully, smacking his cheek with a soft pat, “Hypothermia wasn’t gonna kill me. You almost did.” 
“Did I really fuck you that good?” He smirked smugly. 
“Don’t make me start hating you, again.” You threatened with a yawn, eyes fluttering shut and relaxing into him. 
“Kidding babe,” He said, kissing the top of your head before patting the small of your back, “Let me get some clothes on you.” 
He pulled out of you, quietly apologizing for the emptiness before cleaning you and himself up. His t-shirt covered your body and he managed to slip your underwear back over your legs. Steve settled for his sweatpants, no shirt, just letting the blanket and your body heat keep him warm throughout the night. 
“We’ll talk about this more…in the morning? O–or when we get back home?” You proposed sleepily, snuggling deeper into his body, weakly throwing one of your legs over his hips. 
His big hands came down under the blanket, caressing your skin with soft passes as he hummed pulling you closer, “Yeah baby, we’ll talk about it, then.” 
There you and Steve Harrington were, spending your first night together but not as mortal enemies — you guys had practically fucked the hatred out of each other, but really... it never existed in the first place. 
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BONUS SCENE: 
You did a one over at the trunk of the van, mentally ticking off every item and looking back at the campsite to make sure you all didn’t leave anything behind. Steve was busy checking the tires making sure they all had enough air for the drive back that way there would be no issues. You shut the trunk closed, making your way over to the passenger door that was kicked open with Eddie smoking a cigarette. 
“You’re in my seat.” You cross your arms over your chest, foot tapping against the asphalt as Eddie stared at you confused.  
“You’re mistaken…this is my seat.” He retorted with a chuckle, gesturing to himself before blowing out a puff of smoke into the air.
“Not anymore.” 
“It’s literally my van.” 
You rolled your eyes, lamely gesturing back to the site where the tents were once set up, “And you literally kicked me out of my tent to almost freeze to death, therefore you owe me. Now get out of my seat.” 
“I’m not moving.” He said, standing his ground. 
“Move.” You commanded, reaching to tug him by the arm though he didn’t budge. 
“Nope.” 
“Fine,” You huffed, dropping his arm before calling out, “Steve!” 
He came around the front of the van, dusting his hands off and jutting his chin towards the both of you.
“What’s going on?”
You pouted deeply, eyes sulking towards your friend who tsked and rolled his eyes at your feigned innocence. “Eddie won’t let me sit in the passenger seat.” 
“My van, my rules.” Eddie smirked, tapping the hood of the car. 
Steve stared at you both, shaking his head in amusement before turning to his friend, “Dude, c’mon, just let her sit up front this once.” 
Eddie’s face twisted in betrayal, obviously Steve was already wrapped around your pinky and he just couldn’t believe he was this easy. “You’re shitting me right? I thought I was your right hand man Harrington?” 
You snorted, eyes glancing up at Steve with a blush coating your cheeks, “Oh trust me he doesn’t need a right hand anything when he has me—” 
Eddie faked a gag, finally relenting and stepping out of the seat. He stubbed out his cigarette on the gravel and waved his hands in surrender. 
“Take it for all I care! Just keep your goddamn hands to yourself, and I mean it Steve, both hands on the wheel!” He shouted, whipping the back door open and cramming himself between the rest of your friends who laughed at him for thinking that Steve was going to save his ass. 
“You must be proud of yourself, huh?” Steve chuckled, giving you a hand as you stepped up the siding and slid into the seat comfortably. 
“Very.” You responded, bending out an inch to peck his lips not caring that your friends saw the act.
Steve smiled against your lips, hands coming to rest over your waist, practically lurching himself across your body as you whispered quietly for only him to hear. 
“Now come on… you promised we would use your bed the next right, remember.” 
His eyes widened, cheeks turning red as he swallowed and finally pulled himself away from you, “Oh I remember.” He smiled, tapping your knee before he shut your door, “Buckle up, princess.”
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💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌
a/n: so this is my very first enemies to lover fics...(at least i think it is????), this was actutally supposed to be very short and brief, almost a one shot/blurb kinda thing but it turned into a feature length fic...is anyone surprised hahaha. anyways, i hope you guys like this!!! i don't usually write smut because I feel like i suck at writing it and describing it but i hope i was able to do this fic justice -- let me know what you guys think and thank you so much for sticking around &lt;;3
taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @the-alchemys @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3
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underoossss · 9 months
Text
Head over Heels - S.H
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masterlist
pairing: steve harrington x grumpy!f!reader
summary: Steve falls for Robin’s grumpy friend, and he falls hard.
warnings: family problems mention, trust issues, angst, hurt/comfort, no spoilers, (there’s fluff I promise!!!)
grumpy x sunshine trope
an: I know this is the first Steve fic I’ve posted IN FOREVER and I’m sorry! my writer’s block, personal problems, work and health, have all contributed to how long it took me to finish this. But I promise to make it worth your while, this is the same length as babe baby beautiful and I hope it makes you happy. I dedicate this to all my grumpy beloveds out there, who, like me. don’t relate 100% to the sunshine tropes bc sometimes life just freaking sucks. I poured my heart out with this one so, I hope this comforts you and that you like it! Please let me know. 💘
——-
The September breeze pushes Steve’s hair back as he makes his way to the Hawkin’s start-of-autumn fair, a new thing the town is trying out to make the citizens feel more upbeat after all the incidents they’ve experienced. His friends trail after him, Mike and Lucas arguing over something he doesn’t understand, Max listening to Dusting complain about some prank the soccer team played on the Hellfire Club and Robin walking by his side. Everyone shouts food orders over their shoulder, running towards the picnic tables in search for an empty one, and leaving Steve and Robin alone.
His friend is rambling by his side, and Steve nods along to what she’s telling him. She has a new friend this year, met her at homeroom when she was introduced as a new student. A senior like Robin, she got along with her just fine. I talk a lot and she doesn’t, it’s a good fit, I think she really needed a friend that day, Robin says, and now she’s friends with all of us. Steve hums in understanding, switching schools in senior year sounds awful, and he wonders why you chose to do that. He wouldn’t, unless it was for something serious.
“Anyway here she comes!” Robin says excitedly, waving you over. “I can’t believe she actually came, she’s not comfortable with strangers and she doesn’t know you. I thought she’d sit this one out.”
Steve follows Robin’s line of sight and spots you walking towards them in the distance. Baby blue sweater, light washed jeans and black high-top converse, make you stand out from the orange foliage around you. Your face is serious as you get closer, only breaking into a small smile when you wave at Robin and accept her hug. When you step back your face morphs back to neutrality, a slight furrow to your brow as you hide your hands in your back pockets.
Robin says your name and motions towards Steve. “This is Steve, the friend I told you about.” She explains, “He’s our chauffeur, monster-fighter and designated babysitter.”
Steve furrows his brows and looks sideways at Robin before he looks at you and grins. “Hi, nice to meet you.” He offers his hand and you give it one quick shake before pulling back and looking away. Steve wasn’t expecting that reaction, but he guesses what Robin said is true, you don’t like strangers.
“We’re going to get Apple fritters! They have massive ones here and they serve them with big scoops of ice cream.” Robin tells you, glancing down the line as it moves. There are only three people left to order, so the three of you step into line. “Let me check if they’re still doing the ice cream on top.”
With that, Steve is left to wait next to you until Robin is back. You shift from one leg to another, almost nervously and Steve glances at you. Your eyes meet his and then look away, not scared or nervous, just looking away like you can’t be bothered to make conversation with him. Is he intimidating? Steve asks himself or are you just a massive buzzkill that can’t even comment on the weather.
Steve tries again, scratching his cheek. “So, uh, you’re in senior year like Robin?”
You nod, looking down at your feet before looking at him. “Yeah, we have a lot of classes together. I know the guys over there as well.” Your hand lifts to point at Eddie, who’s just arrived at the table, and the kids talking around him.
Huh, so you do speak, Steve notes, but only when prompted. “Cool.” He nods, looking at your face and noticing the way you look away immediately. “So why did you move to Hawkins all of a sudden? I mean senior year, that’s gotta be rough.”
You press your lips together, looking uncomfortable by the question. Steve has the faint idea that he asked the wrong thing. “I should go say hi to everyone.” You say after an awkward cough. “If there’s ice cream can you tell Robin I’m good with cookie dough?”
Steve wordlessly takes the 5 bucks you hand him and sees you rush away from him. In the distance he can see everyone’s faces light up when they spot you, beckoning you over with excited waves, and your reluctant barely there smile as you greet them and sit down. Steve doesn’t get it; he is half mortified and half confused when Robin comes back. How is it that everyone is your friend when you’re so closed off and Steve doesn’t want to say it but… grumpy.
“Are you sure your friend wants to be here?” Steve asks Robin, looking over at you again. You’re sitting with your elbows leaning on the table, listening to everyone talk around you, neutral expression on your face. Bored, even.
“Of course, she does.” Robin is quick to say. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, she doesn’t look too thrilled to be talking to you.” Steve shrugs.
“You clearly don’t know her.” Robin shakes her head. “What did you do?”
“I only asked her about her move to Hawkins.” Steve holds his hands up defensively, then adds. “She said she likes cookie dough ice cream.”  
They pause their conversation to order the fritters and pay, then continue talking while they wait.
“Okay, you shouldn’t have asked that. First of all.” Robin rolls her eyes, “Second of all, she’s friends with all of us.”
Steve huffs in disbelief. “Oh so she likes you? That’s her I like you face.”
“She adores us, you… not really but that’s cause she doesn’t know you.” Robin nods with certainty, then worries her bottom lip. “The move question is just tricky for her.”
Steve moves to say something when their order is called, and she go back to the booth to take the trays laid out in front of them. There are eight apple fritters with ice cream they have to juggle back to the table but manage to fit in their hands and arms.
“Look Steve.” Robin says seriously, lowering her voice after a sigh.” She slows her pace, so they take longer to get back to the table. “She has been through a rough time; I won’t tell you what because it took her a long time to trust me enough to open up.”
“Okay…” Steve nods, going over her words and feeling a soft pang of guilt. He wouldn’t have judged you so harshly if he knew you were struggling with something. He wouldn’t have asked you about you changing towns. “You could’ve told me that before I messed up earlier. Before I was bitchy too.”
“You’re always bitchy.” Robin huffs, then hums when she looks at you sitting in the distance. “She’s wonderful Steve, in her own way, so don’t judge her by the way she presents herself. When she trusts you, you’ll see what I‘m talking about.” She gives him a pointed look.  
Robin’s words echo in his head as they reach the picnic table and hand over the food to their friends. Steve places yours in front of you with a nod to which you say thank you. Now that he knows a little more about you, Steve guesses you were both left with a bad first impression. They aren’t his forte, and it’s not his fault you weren’t the same person with him as you are with Robin. You don’t know each other, of course it was going to be awkward. Steve sees what Robin means as everyone chats and eats; he sees it in the way your eyes soften, and lips smile slightly when Max begins to tell you something. He sees it in the way you lean closer to the redhead and whisper something that has her laughing soon after; you smile as well before turning your attention back to the group. Dustin and Eddie are planning some sort of revenge on the jocks from the soccer team who messed up something in their Hellfire Room.
Steve tries to focus on what they’re saying but he’s too busy looking at you, trying to figure you out. What happened? What’s the thing that you told Robin that made you keep the gentleness you showed to Max tucked away? You feel him looking at you and meet his eyes, it’s a distrustful glance from the way you narrow your eyes at him. Okay, Steve probably stared at you too long. He looks away and hears you sigh before you do too, tuning back into the conversation between the Hellfire club sitting at the other end of the picnic table.
“That’s a horrible plan.” You say plainly, making Max snort and Eddie pause the conversation. The metalhead rolls his eyes –no annoyance, no malice in sight. Steve supposes Eddie knows you like Robin does.
“Why is that, buttercup?” Eddie asks.
“They’ll know it was you, and they’ll beat you up, Munson.” You tell him seriously with an eye roll of your own –Steve doesn’t need to know you to catch the concern in your tone. “Put some laxatives in their protein powders instead.”
Steve lets out a bark of laughter that startles the table; that would be a good prank if he’s being honest. Everyone turns to look at him, including you and Steve clears his throat. “It’s a good idea.” He mumbles rubbing his chin, then meets your eyes briefly to find something like amusement in them.
“No, no, no.” Dustin shakes his head. “It is an objectively good plan, there’s no way they’ll know it’s us.”
“Yeah, we’ll wait for them to leave and then sneak into the locker room.” Eddie adds. “We’ll seal their lockers shut, they can’t change into their gear the next day and their coach yells their ears off.”
“The perfect plan.” Dustin says proudly and looks around the take to see who agrees.
“You sure they won’t be able to trace the prank back to you? See it as immediate revenge for what they did?” Max asks nodding towards you, “She’s right.”
“We’re absolutely sure.” Eddie confirms with a nod, clapping his hands in front of him.
“Can I read the eulogy at your funeral then?” You ask Eddie and Dustin with fake enthusiasm. “I call dibs.”
Steve chuckles and next to him, Robin fakes discontent as she rolls her eyes. “Damn, I wanted to do it.”
You send a smile her way before you clear your throat. “Eddie and Dustin died as they lived.” Your words are solemn as you speak. “With bad plans and too much confidence that they’ll work.”
“They always work.” Eddie says, chuckling at your words with everyone else. You simply raise one eyebrow at him, which Steve must admit is hot, and Eddie shakes his head. “I guess they sort of work.”
“So, laxatives?” Dustin asks Eddie after a minute, a defeated hunch to his shoulders.
“Laxatives.” Eddie and the rest of Hellfire repeats before the table bursts into laughter– including Steve.
His eyes don’t leave you though. You’re not laughing like everyone else but there’s a small smile on your face. It is reserved but softens your face in the loveliest way. It shows him you are enjoying their company despite the otherwise inexpressive look on your face. Steve begins to wonder then… if he wins your trust, the one you have with Robin and Max, will you smile at him the same way you do with them? Bright and beautiful enough to blind him? He guesses it would be worth a shot, getting to know you more, because if he’s being honest, he’s intrigued.
--------
The next time Steve sees you it’s at a party. It’s mid-October and the cold weather turns it up a notch with the cold bite to the air. He wouldn’t have gone to the party in the first place, if he’s being honest, but Robin forced him to go. Everyone will be there she’d said but Steve didn’t know who everyone would be. Only when he arrived at Kevin Rotner’s house did he begin to recognize some familiar faces. Nancy, Johnathan, and Eddie arrive at the same time he does and the five of them walk up the driveway and the small path leading to the front porch. There’s loud chatter inside and a boombox playing to the loudest volume in the dinning room. There are people sitting in the staircase laughing at a joke and more loud conversation coming from the backyard. He navigates the house with his friends until Robin spots you in the kitchen, and Steve doesn’t know why he’s so nervous when he sees you. You greet Robin with a hug and shrug when she tells you something, he can hear. Your face is pretty and serious as you look over Robin’s shoulder, spotting everyone else coming to say hi. Steve sees you take a deep breath before you greet everyone — almost as if you’re preparing yourself for small talk and hugs. He greets you last, more open and approachable than last time, and he’s surprised when you wave. “Hi, Steve.”
Something inside Steve jumps, but he thinks it’s only his own surprise. He’s about to say something, when Robin and Nancy take your hand and drag you away with the promise of some new gossip, they have to tell you.
Steve talks to a few people here and there; mostly the ones he’s kept in touch with after high school. Other than that, he doesn’t know anyone else; he doesn’t know if it’s cause he’s grown up but he’s not really having fun. There are people jumping into the pool despite the weather while those who mind the cold have gathered inside the house. Steve’s mostly avoiding the crowds, where the air is too hot despite winter being near, while keeping an eye out for his friends. Nancy and Jonathan are talking to some people he doesn’t know in the kitchen, Robin is trying not to combust while she talks to her crush —her lab partner in biology— and Eddie is walking around the entire party with his lunchbox.
When Steve sees you again, you are people watching in the living room, eyes trained on a few people in the middle of the room. He moves to stand next to you, and you shift your gaze towards him but say nothing; Steve thinks it means it’s okay if you stand here. Your foot taps to the music –Tears for Fears’ Head Over Heels –and your head moves almost imperceptibly to the music. The two of you are quiet for a while, and it’s not awkward like Steve expected it to be, not after the way he messed up at the fair. He’s pleasantly surprised, and relaxes a bit more next to you, slouching slightly against the wall. One of your arms is crossed over your chest while your other elbow rests on it, a red cup in your hand. The music continues to play and your eyes are still trained on the people talking in the living room, they’re some old Hawkins High students Steve kind of recognizes. There’s Angela and Karen, Bradley and Peter and some other people he doesn’t know the names of. Steve leans his weigh on his right leg, which brings him closer to you.
You don’t move away, simply pass him your red cup. Steve moves to shake his head no and say he’s driving, but you speak up before he does. “It’s only soda.” You say and nod at the cup that Steve takes the cup from you shortly after.
“What’re you watching?” Steve asks.
“The only interesting thing that’s going to happen in this party I think.” You look at him finally and lean closer, Steve isn’t sure you’re aware of it. “I think there’s going to be a fight.”
Your eyes hold amusement in them, like you’re excited for what’s about to happen. The tiniest movement of your mouth has Steve glancing down, you’re grinning, barely; he thinks it’s cute.
Steve’s eyebrows raise, interest spiked, and is about to say something when you turn your head again. Bradley is saying something to Angela, his voice loud and slurred but incomprehensible over the music, and not a second later an equally intoxicated Peter swings a punch at him. Another girl, who Steve doesn’t know, confronts Angela they start arguing with Karen joining the fight. Bradley and Peter fall to the ground, wrestling each other while others try to break the fight.
“Wait isn’t she?” Steve’s mind catches up the everything that happened puts two and two together. He’s pretty Angela is dating Bradley, not Peter.
“Yup.” You say with a shrug, tilting your head. “It was all a matter of time before it happened.” It’s all you say, then chuckle. Steve does too, he can’t help himself at the sound of your own laughter, until the two of you are giggling at the fight in front of you.
The music changes then, to something more upbeat, and Steve’s mind can only think about asking you to dance. Would you say yes? Probably not. Before he can ask you though, you step away from the wall. More people have gathered in the living room to watch the fight, and you decide to make your way to the front door. Do crowds bother you? Steve wonders.
“Wait.” Steve goes after you and closes the door behind him. “Where are you going?”
“Home.” Your back is turned to him. The cream-coloured sweater you wear over your lilac skirt and your black boots look lovely on you, and so does your hair. Steve doesn’t know why but he thinks it frames your face perfectly. There’s also a hint of remaining lip-gloss on your lips that shines with the streetlamp’s light… and Steve, well Steve thinks You’re so pretty.
“It’s cold, don’t tell me you’re going to walk.” Steve speaks again, shaking away his previous thoughts.
You shrug, “I usually do, it’s not too far.”
Steve doesn’t know where you live but he knows Rotner lives far away from almost everyone in Hawkins. Your house is probably far away. “I’ll drive you.”  Steve offers, but you sigh and look away.
“Go back to the party Steve, you can drive Robin home.” You say simply. “I’ll see you around.”
“No, she can go with Nancy.” He follows you until he’s walking next to you. “It’s not safe for you to walk home, come on.”
You sigh again and look up at the sky, annoyed. If you’re annoyed, then he’s too, because you’re making a dumb decision for the sake of being stubborn. And you probably don’t know that he’s stubborn too, so you might have to argue all night about whether this decision is right or not. Why is it so hard for you to accept a ride home? You offered him soda and were talking to him just now; it was nice. More than nice.
“I won't stop asking.” Steve says, crossing his arms and stepping in front of you.
Your eyes meet his in an intense half-glare, and Steve can’t help but think how nice your eyeliner looks on you. It does something to him he hasn’t felt in a while. He feels like he can’t breathe while heat creeps up the back of his neck —it’s October, he shouldn’t feel hot at all. A moment later you roll your eyes, though backing down first, and giving Steve some time to breathe as you turn around.
“Alright.”
Steve can’t help smiling in triumph, knowing he just won, and follows you as you walk towards his car further down the road. Amusement paints his eyes as he looks at you; your lips are pursed, and a huff escapes you.
 “You’re pouting” Steve says, looking at your lips and the annoyed look on your face. It makes him smile. You’re pouting.
“I’m not” You look sideways at him.  
“Oh, you are.”
“Shut up, Harrington.” You say and he laughs, opening the passenger’s door for you.
-------
From then on Steve does his best to increase his charm and be a gentleman. He offers you his help as well as rides home whenever he can, especially when you’re alone. The last thing he wants is for you to think that he’s only being nice when your common friends are around. Steve sees you more often now, not as much as he’d like, he must admit, but enough to know more about you. What you’re okay with sharing, more like.  
As he suspected from the party, you don’t like crowds (they make you nervous), and when Steve asked why you’d changed the topic. You work at the Deli on Main Street, have a younger brother named Chris, and you love coffee. He always sees you drinking one in the morning when he gives both you and Robin a ride to school, and whenever he stops by at the deli for lunch during your shift. Most important of all, Steve is starting to see what Robin meant when she said not to judge a book based on its cover. Because, despite your grumpy exterior, there’s a whole personality hidden underneath.
Steve can tell. There are hints and pieces; from the way you dress, to the music you like, and comic books you read and often exchange with Max. When he takes the time to look, he sees the gentleness with which you do things, and the care with which you treat your friends. He also sees your distrust for what it is: fear. You’re afraid, to let new people in, to get hurt, and Steve doesn’t know why.  
He wishes there was something he could do to fix it, to make you see the glass half full instead of half empty, or to change your sporadic pessimism.  But then he figures, he would be changing you, and that’s not something he wants. If he’s being honest, your friend group (Steve isn’t sure if he’s your friend, officially at least) needed someone with an objective outlook on life to set their heads straight. And if he’s honest with himself, he likes all the things that make you you. He likes your confidence when you don’t care what people think about you. He likes it when you fight with Robin over who chooses the music, despite it being his car. And he's pretty much obsessed with your face; the hard set of your jaw when you get impatient, the brow you silently arch that makes him feel things he shouldn’t, and the silent way you listen to conversation, only speaking up when you think it’s necessary. Steve is more than a bit obsessed.
He had been wrong that first day. He didn’t know you and wrongly assumed you weren’t happy to be there with them, when you actually were. He reflects upon it now that he knows your facial expressions; your eyebrows had been relaxed, and your eyes didn’t have a hard edge to them. You had been at ease, only closing yourself off when Steve tried to dig into your move to Hawkins. He really started off with the wrong foot, but it all takes a turn on a Friday night.
You visit FV for a tape mid-afternoon, surprising Steve at work. The weather is more than chilly outside, and Steve notices right away how you have no jacket on, only a dark red sweater. He’d been doing some paperwork behind the counter when the bell over the door for his attention. It rewarded him with the sight of you walking in, looking around before your eyes settle on him.
“Hey, Steve.” You say voice light as you approach him and lean your elbows on the counter. “Do you have karate kid available? My brother is begging us to watch it again tomorrow.”
Steve doesn’t know why but he struggles to speak for a moment —it probably has to do with the fact that you look very pretty, and two, this interaction is so different from your first one he shortcircuits. After a long pause you raise a questioning eyebrow, “You okay?”
Steve clears his throat. “Yeah. Um, we have it, let me go get it.”
“Thank you.” You nod as he dashes away from the counter.
“Did you walk here?” Steve asks once he’s cleared his head and reaches the action movie aisle. He sees you shrug over the stands.
“I usually do, I don’t mind it.” You explain simply.
“You’re not wearing a jacket though.” Steve grabs Karate Kid and goes back to the counter. Why are you always out in the cold without a jacket? It’s a miracle you haven’t fallen sick, he thinks.
“I left school in a rush, I was gonna be late for work.” You shrug again, eyes visibly lighting up when you spot the movie. “Thank God. Chris would have been insufferable if someone beat me to it.”
Steve crouches down behind the counter and retrieves his own jacket —a grey bomber— before placing it on the counter in front of you. “Here.”
“Steve,” You tell him seriously, rolling your eyes. “I’m not taking your jacket.”
“Why not? You’re the one walking out in the cold, I only have to walk towards my car.” He dismisses your refusal with a wave of his hand.
“Hey!” Robin says, calling your name as she emerges from the back room. “Perfect timing, I was going to call you.”
“Here to rent karate kid.” You tell her, a small smile on your face.
“And choosing hypothermia over my jacket.”  Steve chimes in, sliding his jacket pointedly towards you.
“It’s not that cold Steve.” You roll your eyes at him again, “But I know you’ll annoy me until I say yes.”
Steve gives you a triumphant smile and you shake your head, Steve would even say it’s shyly, before you take the jacket and shrug it on. “The movie? Please.”
Robin speaks up while Steve rings you up. “We’re gonna hang out at Nancy’s tonight. The kids will be there too, you should come.”
Steve risks a glance at you, in his jacket; a huge mistake. He seriously underestimated his reaction to seeing you in his clothes, because it is downright adorable and something he was unprepared for. The sleeves go past your hands and the whole thing is oversized on you, his shoulders being broader than yours and his torso longer. Steve bites back a smile —he hopes you never give it back to him; this is a sight he’d love to see more often.  He turns back to the computer to hide his grin from you and silently hopes you’ll say yes.
“Will there be other people?” You ask Robin, and Steve is quick to shake his head no and reassure you. Too quick.
“Just the usual gang.” Steve tells you, clearing his throat to hide his eagerness. “No one else.”
“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Robin insists with a smile, then moves her gaze towards Steve, who tries to ignore the way she raises a knowing eyebrow at him. He’s gonna have an earful once you leave, he can bet on it.  
“Okay, I’ll be there.” You nod, then exchange some cash for the movie Steve hands to you. “Thank you, Steve.”
Steve leans his forearms on the counter, trying to give you his most charming smile to see if he’ll get one of those you give Robin in return. “We’ll pick you up after work.” Steve says and you look into his eyes for a long second before nodding.
“Sure.” You shrug, eyes shifting away from his. “I’ll see you guys later.”
------
At Nancy’s, chaos ensues. The kids argue over what board-game to play while Eddie and Robin argue over what record to play next. Steve is listening to Nancy and Jonathan talk about a volunteering drive she’s organizing and from where he stands, he can see you leaning against the wall next to Robin. Your face is neutral as you listen to the record that’s currently playing, tuning out Eddie’s argument for the most part until you speak up.
“Or you can let me choose?” You ask calmly, glancing at them briefly before going back to looking down at your feet.
“No!” Both Eddie and Robin say at the same time, and Steve notices the corner of your mouth twitch upwards.
“You chose this one, buttercup.” Eddie says with a sigh. “You’re only gonna choose one to annoy us.”
This earns Eddie an eye roll. “How exactly do you know that?” You ask. “It could’ve been a great pick, now you’ll never know Munson.”
Steve tries to tune back into Nancy’s explanation when Max pushes the board game she wanted to play away with a huff. It clatters to the ground as she stands from her place in front of the coffee table. You spot her and call her name only a moment later.  
“Hey Max, I got the new Wonder Woman!” You say after a moment when the read-head stops glaring daggers at the boys. 
Her eyes light up, a dramatic change from the look in her eyes moments ago. “Really? Can I see it?”
“‘Course, I brought it for you.” You roll your eyes, this time full of fondness, and nod towards the kitchen. “It’s in my bag.”
 Steve can’t follow your conversation because the doorbell rings, signalling the pizza Nancy ordered arrived. The weather feels much colder than earlier as he opens the door and steps outside, he pays for the pizza, tips the delivery guy and goes back inside. Arms full of pizza boxes, he walks back to the dining table, shooting a pointed look at Dustin and Mike. “Zip it or you don’t get a single slice.”
The high schoolers move more discarded boardgames away from the table in a heartbeat, scrambling to undo their mess and opening the pizza boxes in a hurry. Steve spots you still standing in the kitchen talking to Max as everyone helps themselves to pizza and decides to let you both know the food is ready.
“So, you skate too?” Max is asking you excitedly, leaning her hip against the kitchen counter.
You chuckle — it hits Steve in the chest and Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. “I do,” You grin, “I mean I used to when I lived in Indianapolis, but I haven’t since I moved here.”
“We can go to the skate-park tomorrow.” Max proposes raising her eyebrows, “If you want.”
You nod, “Sure. I’ll look for my skateboard tonight, let’s hope I still remember how to use it.”
“Pizza’s here.” Steve says, interrupting and smiling at you both. When your eyes meet his, your lips move to smile but in a matter of seconds you stop yourself.
It makes Steve furrow his brows and walk over to you as Max leaves to grab a slice. “You okay?” Steve asks, and your eyes meet his again briefly before they dart away as you sidestep him.
You make your way to the front door in a rush, this time though you do grab your jacket—his jacket— on the way. Just like he did the night of the party, Steve follows you, worried and confused at your reaction. Robin glances at him from the dining table, an unspoken question in her eyes but Steve can only shrug. He is certain he didn’t do anything wrong just now, but somehow, he messed up because you just fled from him.
“Stop.” Steve says after calling your name. “What happened?”
“Nothing, I just need some air. You should go back inside Steve.” Your back is to him, shoulders tense and close to your ears defensively.
“No,” He shakes his head. His lips go down into a frown briefly as he looks at your back. He voices the question he always asks himself when you shut him down. “Did I do something?”
“No.” You say when you turn, eyebrows meeting in the middle as you glare at him but Steve sees the way you struggle to hold it in place. After a second it falls, and your face just crumples to exhausted look. “I want to be alone.” You whisper.
 “You think a glare and a pout are intimidating enough to drive me away?” Steve shakes his head.
“I don’t pout.” You say, lips pursed and jaw tense. Pouting.
“You do and it’s not working.”  
You change tactics then, raising an eyebrow and staring him down like the night at the party but Steve shakes his head. “That’s not working either.”
“Why are you insisting so much on this!” You finally ask, raising your voice and crossing your arms in front of you. Your jaw clenches as you look away and Steve sees your eyes squeeze shut.
He runs a hand down his face and breathes out. “Whether you like it or not there are people who want to get to know you.”
“What, like you?” Your eyes cut a suspicious look Steve’s way and he can see your walls come back up right in front of him. A tear falls down your cheek and you’re quick to wipe it away, harshly. “Why?”
Steve throws his hands up in the air, exasperated but not raising his voice, “To be your friend! Just like Robin and Eddie are your friends.” His shoulders move up and down, trying to cover up how much he likes you and looks forward to your company. “Why are you so distrustful, is it something I did?”
“It’s not about you, Steve.” Your eyebrows meet in the middle again, and you look away from him, directing your gaze to the snow-covered lawn. “If… If it bothers you so much, why do you even want to be my friend? Because you’re wrong Steve. No one else does, and I’m more than fine with that.”
Steve shakes his head, knowing you’re lying to him and trying to convince yourself. His voice softens. “Because despite it, I like you, I think you’re… cool.”
“Cool?” The way you raise your eyebrows makes Steve chuckle.
Funny, caring, fucking beautiful, Steve wants to say but he just nods his head at your question.
“Yeah, and you’re interesting, and I… want to be your friend.” Steve’s hands settle on his hips as he shifts his weigh to one leg, looking down to the ground. Glancing at you briefly, he drops his voice to whisper your name. “Don’t leave. I’m not lying… that’s what worries you right?”
Steve assumes that’s where your distrust comes from; you told him it wasn’t something he did, then it must be that you’re scared to trust him. He’s known there are many feelings behind your hard exterior, one of them being fear. Steve doesn’t want you to fear him, and he wonders who broke your trust in the past. Silence settles between the two of you; you seem to be going over his words and Steve is giving you the time to do so. He’d wait an hour if necessary and reassure you a thousand times if it would mean you believe him. Steve panics when he sees you swallow hard and shift your eyes at the sky, the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry.
But you don’t cry. Instead, you take a deep breath and look into his eyes. There’s a vulnerability there that awakens an urge in Steve to hug you. “You promise?” Your voice is a whisper, but he hears you clear as day. You’ve never spoken so softly before, and Steve wishes it could have happened under other circumstances.
Steve looks into your eyes and nods with sincerity, hoping you can see he’s being completely honest with you. “Yes.”
“I do like you, Steve. You just scare me.” You look down at the ground for a moment and nod to yourself as Steve’s eyebrows shoot hop in surprise. A moment later, your eyes drift back to Steve and there are emotions dancing around in them he’s never seen before. “I’m sorry.”
Steve nods and something inside him tightens when you offer a small smile. It’s like something shifts between the two of you despite neither of you moving. In a matter of seconds, everything feels easy, natural, like the brief moment your shared at the party in October. Steve realizes it’s because you’ve let your guard down; you stand differently in front of him, more comfortable, less apprehensive. You scare me. “You wanna tell me why?”
You press your lips together and shake your head. “Another time, maybe?”
Steve tries to hold back a smile, but he can’t, it takes over his entire face. When he sees you shiver, he offers his hand. “Let’s go back inside, or I can drive you home if you want to leave.”
“I can stay a bit longer.” You say when you grab his hand –an electric shock goes up his arm. “I really want some pizza. But if they play Monopoly I’m definitely leaving.”
Steve’s laughter follows you as he leads the two of you back to the house.
--
The coffee cup Steve places in front of you at work the next Monday lands with a soft thud on the counter. It’s black coffee with some milk and sugar; the way Steve’s learned you take it every day. The sound and his presence make you look up at him over the top of your book, a doubtful eyebrow raised and a serious look on your face. Fuck your pretty, Steve thinks. Your eyes shift from the coffee to his face a couple of times before you close your book.
“What’s this?” You ask, leaning back on your seat and tilting your head.
Steve leans his elbows on the counter in front of you and tilts his head right back. “Considering you drink around 5 of these a day, one would think you’ll know what it is.”
“Ah, that’s where you’re mistaken. I actually drink 10.” You deadpan, looking at him with fake disappointment. “I thought you knew me, now that we’re friends and all.”
Steve laughs, looks down and shakes his head. When he looks at you again, there’s a half smile on your face. “Come on.” He says. “Let’s go grab some food.”
“I literally work at a deli, Steve.” You tell Steve seriously, motioning to your surroundings. “We’re surrounded by food.”
Steve copies what you just said with a roll of his eyes and smiles again. “I mean something else, babe. Come on.”
With a sigh you stand up from your seat and round the counter, leaving your apron behind. “You’re lucky I get a break in a couple of minutes.” You tell Steve before yelling over your shoulder. “Hank I’ll be back!”
Steve’s eyes light up and he considers his visit a triumph. He’s becoming surer and surer his feelings for you go beyond friendship and fondness and lean more towards: I want to hold your hand all the time, and cuddle you while we watch movies then forget about the movie and get lost on you. He wants to put his arm around your shoulder freely, have you lean your weigh against him and steal a kiss, probably more than one. No. It won’t ever happen so Steve shouldn’t even be thinking about it. He opens the passenger’s door to his car for you and smiles when you get in, your coffee in your hand.
It becomes a routine of sorts, either you visit him at Family Video bringing sandwiches for him and Robin or he picks you up, a coffee waiting for you in his car and drives you wherever feels right that day to eat your lunch. You talk about your day, or whatever gossip you heard that day. One day you even confessed to be scared about graduation.
“Everyone is so excited to finish school, and here I am so terrified about the future I haven’t opened any of my college application letters.” You muttered, picking at a loose thread on your sweater.
“Why are you scared?” Steve asked you and you swallow hard.
You turned your body on your seat, facing him as you shrugged. “I feel lost, I don’t know what I should major in. I also don’t know where I’d like to go, and I can't even research these colleges without panic settling on my chest.” Your eyebrows furrowed and your jaw got tense and Steve knew that meant you felt angry and this time it was at yourself.
Steve took your hand without a second thought, but you let him. “You know, you don’t have to figure it all out right now.”
“It feels like it.” You whispered looking at him, frustration and embarrassment shining in your eyes.  “Everyone else has it figured out.”
Steve shook his head; you shouldn’t feel embarrassed with him. “If there’s something I’ve learned about you, is that you don’t care about what other people are doing. What do you want?”
“I ask myself that question every day.” You mirrored his head shake and looked away. “Let’s talk about something else. Please?”
Steve was happy to change the subject, anything to cheer you up. By the time you go back to the Deli to continue your shift, he realized it was the first personal thing you’ve told him. Ever. It made him happier than he cared to admit.
-----
Two months after your talk in Nancy’s driveway, you invite Robin, Nancy, Eddie, Jonathan and Steve to your house. It’s the first time you’ve let anyone other than Robin into your home, this time for movie night. Your father and brother went back to Indianapolis to pick up other stuff from your old house, you said, it’s perfect timing. Steve and Robin arrive together, and shortly afterwards Eddie’s knocking on the door.
 Your house is cozy and simply decorated with a forest green comfy looking couch, a dark brown coffee table and a TV in the living room and all the basic stuff in both the dining room and kitchen.  There’s a record playing somewhere, and Steve can’t help the smile that comes to his face when he sees the way you’re mouthing the words as you move back and for the between the kitchen and living room bringing snacks, drinks and pizza for everyone. You’re wearing a cream-coloured sweater he recognizes from the party back in October and something funny happens in his stomach when he realizes just how far your friendship’s evolved since then.
“Babe come on take a break, we can help.” Steve stops you from going back to the kitchen with a hand on your shoulder and a fond look on his face.
You open your mouth to say something when Eddie and Robin appear on either side of you, presenting the movies they –surprisingly– were in charge to pick. “The best horror movies.” They say in unison.
Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as you take the three VHS tapes from them. “Oh. Um, great! Thank you.” Your reaction hides behind the grin you shoot both, who nod and disappear to the kitchen.
“You’re pouting.” Steve says stepping closer to you again in the living room; your eyes that were fixed on the VHS tapes drift upwards to meet his own. Steve smiles.
“I’m not pouting.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes, lips settling back into a pout as you scan the titles of the movies once more. “These are just scary.”
“You’re still pouting.” Steve whispers, like it’s a secret. His eyes drift down to your lips, a mistake that has him swallowing hard, before the doorbell rings, signalling Johnathan and Nancy arrived. He’s quick to turn and go let them in. It’s a perfectly timed distraction. He shouldn’t think about kissing you, because despite no matter how badly he wants to, you’d never let it happen, or feel the same way he does to let it happen.  “Just saying!”
Once the first movie plays, Eddie and Robin settle on one end of the couch, while Nancy and Johnathan sit on the floor in front of them. Steve shoots Robin a I know what you’re doing look before sitting next to her and feeling the couch dip under your weigh when you settle on the empty seat next to him. A sweet floral scent he now recognizes as your shampoo or your perfume reaches him and Steve actively decides to focus on the movie, not the way he wants to pull you over his lap and breathe you in. Eddie and Robin laugh every now and then and the four of you turn to look at them, there’s nothing funny about the movie. You begin covering your face with the bucket of popcorn as the movie progresses, your face grimacing as the suspenseful music picks up.
Steve leans closer to you, his voice a whisper as he speaks. “It’s just special effects don’t worry about it.” You turn to look at him, worried puppy dog eyes gazing into him and dammit you make it so hard to keep his distance. “Trust me.” Steve winks, lightening the mood only to jump and scream when he turns to the movie once more and a jump scare comes on.
It seems like the perfect medicine for your fear. For you forget about it and lean your head back laughing, a full-on belly laugh, that’s so contagious and beautiful Steve laughs with you. Nancy and Robin share a knowing look he doesn’t notice before they shush the two of you, shoving at his elbow and your knee. You cover your mouth with your hand and your shoulders shake as you lean your head on Steve’s shoulder, turning your body towards his; Steve’s never been so happy to be scared in his life.
Everyone leaves after 3 movies. Robin gets a ride with Eddie, and Nancy leaves with Jonathan as well. Steve though, stays behind insisting on helping you clean up, but it’s a weak excuse to check on you before he leaves. He noticed you getting nervous, fidgeting with your hands anxiously when everyone started to leave. The films were long done, so Steve knows something else is worrying you and it doesn’t sit well in his heart to leave you like this. Which is why he is currently picking up trash in the living room while you do the same in the kitchen.
You’re finishing placing the dirty dishes in the sink when Steve enters the room. He noticed right away the way your shoulders hunch and you take a deep breath. “Steve…”
“You okay?” Steve closes the trash bag and moves to the sink. His eyes roam your face as he looks sideways at you and washes his hands.
“I um… I wanted to apologize to you.” You tell him quietly, passing him a kitchen towel before moving away from the sink. “For how closed-off I was when you met me.”
After drying his hands quickly, Steve turns and leans on the edge of the sink. “It’s okay, it’s not easy to trust new people right away.” He reassures you –it’s something he understands now; he understands you.
You sit on the counter opposite to him and stare at the floor for a bit, polka dot sock clad feet dangling in the air. “It’s more than that. I’m just scared of getting close to people since…”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Steve shakes his head, keeping his eyes on your face.
“I trust you, Steve.”
Those four words make Steve’s chest flutter –relief, happiness, nerves– but he pushes the feeling to the back of his mind and patiently waits for you to continue. Your lips are pursed as you stare at the floor, gathering your thoughts.
“My mom…” You swallow, getting chocked up with those to words but soldiering on. With a shake of your head, you look up to the ceiling and will your tears away. “My mom left my dad, brother and I last April. She’d been cheating on dad for years… and that’s not even the worst part.”
You wipe your eyes quickly, lips pulled downwards into a deep frown when you pause again –an upside-down U Steve wishes he could smooth out with his thumb. But he stays where he stands and lets you continue.
“The other man was married too” Your eyes find Steve’s and where there’s usually a spark –like that night at the party– there’s only sadness directed at the memory. “He’s the father of a popular kid at my old high school, so you can guess what happened when everyone found out.”
Steve’s mouths opens again and this time a soft no escapes him.
You press your lips together and nod, “So not only did the news wreck our home… they made life at school unbearable for my brother and I. People who I thought were my friends just threw me away as if I was trash for something I didn’t do. Something I had no fault in.”
“Is that why you moved here?” Steve asks softly, walking closer to you. The answer to the question he asked many months ago, right in front of him and it doesn’t make him feel any satisfaction. No, it hurts him to know this. Moving away from everything you’ve known and starting over again during senior year sounds brutal.
“Yes.” You whisper and close your eyes briefly; more tears fall down your cheeks and Steve’s heart aches. Teary eyes move away from his and fix themselves on the kitchen window instead, your lips are pressed so hard against each other they’re losing colour. “She packed her bags right after school the day we found out. We saw her leave with that man, no other explanation, not even a goodbye or a note. Everyone except my dad and my brother decided to leave me that day.”
A sob escapes you then, finally breaking free and shaking your whole body; another one replaces it once it stops. Your hands move from the counter to your face, covering it as cries continue to escape you in succession. Steve wastes no time and walks to stand in front of you; he hates seeing you in so much pain. God, it must have hurt so much, just being left behind like that. His hands move to your hips and gently urge you to hop off the counter before he wraps you up in his arms. His shoulders shake with the force of your sobs as you cling to him.
“Stevie.” Your hands are bunched up in the back of his polo, holding onto him like a lifeline.
Steve can’t even relish the sound of your calling him Stevie so softly. He swallows hard as he witnesses the pain, you have felt inside of you for so long. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers.
“She left us, Steve. She just disappeared and left us grieving her despite her being alive.” You say between your tears, they soak the right side of his shirt, but Steve couldn’t care less, his arms just tighten around your waist. “She’d been pushing us away for years, treating us like garbage and now I can see it’s because we weren’t good enough for her anymore. She didn’t love any of us anymore. We… we didn’t make her happy.”
Your voice sounds hoarse from crying, and your hands tighten behind Steve’s back. When you bury your face in his chest, Steve hunches his shoulders and forms a cocoon to protect you from the past. His protective nature takes over as he holds you flush against him; his hand moves up and down your back firmly –you need to know he’s there, that he’s got you. Steve puts his cheek over your head and whispers his next words. “I’ve got you; you can cry as much as you need to, I’m not going anywhere.”
It takes a few minutes, but your sobs soon transform into soft sniffles even as you press yourself closer to him. Steve doesn’t want to upset you anymore, but he’s itching to comfort you and let you know what he wishes someone had told him years ago. “I know my own shit experience with my parents isn’t the same as what you went through.” He starts, taking a small step back so he can look at you.
His fingers take a gentle hold of your face until puffy and teary eyes meet his; Steve wipes away some stray tears. “But what your mom did to you doesn’t say anything about you alright? You’re more than good enough for anyone. If she didn’t see that, then she made the worst mistake of her life.”
You close your eyes at his words and look away, but Steve shakes his head and urges you to face him again with a whisper of your name. “You don’t have to prove your worth to anyone because your mother left. All of us see it, and we’re so lucky to have you here.”
Steve’s thumb catches more tears as your lips begins to tremble again. “I’m so fucking lucky that you trust me, and I understand why you didn’t at first, okay? I understand you.”
Your hands on his waist tighten again as your forehead drops to his right shoulder. “I didn’t used to be like this… I’m sorry that this is the me that you met.”
Steve shakes his head, sure that you feel it when he does, and pulls you flush to his chest again. Is this how you’ve felt since last summer? He wonders. Like this version of yourself is wrong or unlikable.
Sure, you’re not a smiley person, but that makes your rare smiles even more special –and they drive Steve crazy. You see the glass half-empty most times to protect yourself if things do indeed go to shit, but you also recognize genuine goodness. You don’t hesitate to encourage or celebrate everyone else’s happiness; he’s seen it firsthand, with the kids, with Robin and even himself. Steve doesn’t think he could ever get tired of your dark humour or that pretty pout that settles on your lips when you get annoyed, not to mention that making you laugh is his favorite thing in the world. Steve understands your anxiety and panic at your college decision, you don’t want another change; you don’t want to choose something you don’t like and face another disappointment again. Most of all, Steve finally understands your hesitance and the root of your gruff exterior, and he wouldn’t change a thing about it. He’s stupid in love with you; your grumpy and soft looks; your frowns and your smiles; your heart; and that tender way you’re holding onto him right now.
Steve places a kiss to the side of your head to keep himself from saying all of this out loud –it’s not the right time, not yet. Instead, he whispers above your ear, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”
For a moment, stillness surrounds the two of you in the kitchen and there’s no other sound but your quiet sniffles against Steve’s shirt again. Steve doesn’t mind, he’s happy to hold you for as long as you need, which ends up being five more minutes. You take a step back and look at him with those pretty eyes of yours; they’re teary and red-rimmed but lovely all the same.
“Thank you, Steve.” You whisper, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips until your gaze drops to his shirt and embarrassment shines in your eyes. “Sorry I cried all over you.”
“I don’t mind.” Steve shrugs and looks at you softly, hands still on your waist. “I think I know what we should do.”
You look at him curiously. “About what?”
“To cheer you up.”
The head shake you give him is immediate, just as he imagined. “I don’t–”
“You deserve a happy life.” Steve states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and sends a wink your way hoping to amuse you. “And I think, ice cream is a good way to start. I should know, I worked at an ice cream shop remember.”
He leaves your side and walks over to the freezer to grab the ice cream he saw earlier that night when he got up mid-movie to get more ice. It’s cookie dough ice cream, which he knows to be your favourite –he’s known since that first night he met you. Knowing he’s completely serious now, your eyes stare into his eyes for a moment before you turn and grab two spoons from a kitchen drawer.
“I guess we’re having ice cream then. Considering you’re an expert.” You say with an eye roll Steve can only describe as fond when you approach him again. A moment later, you sit on the counter and Steve follows suit, sitting next to you. “Spoon?”
“Thank you.” Steve says and takes it from you after opening the ice cream tub. He offers the tub to you first, letting you scoop some ice cream with your spoon which you pop in your mouth. Your arms brush from how close you’re sitting, and Steve has to lean forward to look at you, but he doesn’t mind. He’s happy with the proximity.
A sigh escapes you and you close your eyes as you savour the ice cream. Steve feels heat creep up the back of his neck at the sound, but he shakes the feeling off; you’re only eating ice cream, to make you feel better. “You were right Harrington, this is like medicine.”
“Told you, I’m an expert.” Steve chuckles and eats his own spoonful, the creamy ice cream melting in his tongue before he laughs as you search for the cookie dough in the tub. “This is going to be just plain vanilla ice cream if you keep doing that.”
“Finders keepers.” You tell him with a shrug as you bring the cookie dough to your mouth. “It’s arguably the best part of this ice cream.”
“You’re supposed to eat the ice cream with it!” Steve argues, holding the tub away from your reach. “I want cookie dough too you know.”
You roll your eyes at him, but there’s a soft look on your face as you look at him and nod. The two of you go back to eating ice cream in silence until Steve speaks up again. There are so many things he wants to know about you still –he thinks he’ll always want to know more. “What’s something you miss from living in Indianapolis?”
You pause mid-scoop and concentrate for a few moments going over his question. A moment later a tiny smile makes its way to your lips. “There used to be a wonderful campsite my dad used to take my brother and I; we’d camp for three days and do all sort of activities.”
Steve smiles. “Like what?”
“Dad and Chris love fishing, so we’d do that. There was also hiking, swimming, s’mores. Oh! We’d all tell each other stories sitting next to the fire. They were all completely made up of course, and I think the more ridiculous they were, the more fun we had.”
Your eyes wander around the kitchen, like you’re back in the forest with your family and not next to Steve anymore. Light dances in your eyes and Steve can almost picture the three of you laughing around the fire as the catch of the day roasts on a grill nearby. He knows better than to ask about your mother, he’s got a pretty good idea what the answer would be. Besides, you’ve cried enough already, so much that Steve’s own heart feels bruised from seeing you in pain.
“You haven’t camped here in Hawkins?” Steve asks after a minute, voice quiet to avoid disturbing your memory.
You shake your head and sigh, the mirage in front of you disappearing as your eyes drift back to Steve’s. “Dad’s not the same person he was during those camping trips… he hasn’t scouted a good place for us to go. I don’t think he even wants to go camping anymore.”
Steve puts the ice cream tub on the counter and takes your hand instead. “Maybe we could go camping someday, invite everyone, have fun…”
Your head moves to rest on his shoulder, the dizzying smell of your shampoo and perfume reaching Steve’s nose at the proximity. He leans his cheek on top of your head and feels the faint nod you give him. “Maybe.”
A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, your hand still in Steve’s grasp. Until he gives it a squeeze that makes you jump, as if you forgot you were holding hands in the first place. Steve chuckles. “What?”
Your head leaves his shoulder in an instant and for a second Steve is sure you’re going to hide behind your walls again, like you did so many months ago. His fear though, is replaced with concern when you hop off the counter and check the time with a frown.
“Babe come on, what’s going on?” He hops off the counter and stands in front of you. His eyes search yours until finally your gaze meets his, your embarrassment clear in them.
“I just hate being home alone at night. It makes me anxious.” Your hands fidget in front of you, as if you’re waiting for Steve to laugh at you. Oh, so that’s why you were nervous earlier. “I can’t sleep. At all.”
He looks down at his watch and sees that it’s midnight already. “I don’t mind staying over.” Bringing his eyes back to yours, he speaks up again. “Would that make you feel better?”
You close your eyes and let out a shaky exhale before you nod. “A lot better.” When your eyes open again, they’re full of gratefulness and surprise, as if Steve wouldn’t do anything for you.
 A smile grows on Steve’s face, and he takes your hand before you can thank him, threading your fingers together as he speaks. “Come on, you’re probably tired.”
Steve, however, is everything but tired. His heart is racing at the thought of spending the night here with you. You’ve never spent so much time together in a day, he’s never seen your bedroom, and there’s something about this impromptu sleepover that makes heat creep up the back of his neck. No. He’s here to give you emotional support; you were so anxious earlier and there’s nothing he wants more than to see you happy and comfortable. If staying here, despite it sending his feelings into a frenzy, is the key for you to rest then so be it. He can stay for one night.
You don’t let go of his hand as you lead him upstairs, passing various pictures of you and your family that hang from the wall opposite the handrail. There are three bedrooms upstairs and yours is the last one down the hall, its view towards the backyard. You open the door a moment later and let go of his hand as you step inside. Now that he’s here, Steve remembers neither of you made sure the doors were locked downstairs. He should do that.
“I’m going to take a shower.” You tell him as you walk towards your dresser.
Steve nods and swallows hard, using the excuse of your safety to be downstairs while that happens. “We forgot to lock everything downstairs. I’ll go do that.”
“Oh, right.” You press your palm to your forehead; Steve can see you reprimand yourself. “Thank you, Steve.”
“No problem.” Steve is quick to shake his head as he takes a step back from the room. “I’ll be right back.”
Once Steve is back downstairs, he makes sure to check the windows and lock the front door. He fiddles with the light switches for a while before he finds the right ones and turns the lights off. The whole process takes him less than five minutes, and the shower is still running when he’s back in your room. With a deep breath he finally looks around, gazing through a metaphorical window into your world, which he surprisingly already knew a lot of. The pastel walls make him smile, and he walks along the furthermost wall where various posters have been hung –all bands and singers Robin and you have played in his car. There’s a small vanity by the closet next to the bathroom, full of tiny bottles and a couple of lip-gloss tubes. Steve also spots a purple bottle of perfume on top, and a grin makes its way to his face –that’s the one that drives him crazy, he’s sure of it. He’s about to move closer and look at the pictures you’ve pasted in the vanity’s mirror, but he’s startled to a stop when you speak.
“I left a shirt for you to sleep in, if you want it.” You say and Steve turns around.
His heart summersaults when he sees you, fresh dewy face, hair out of your face, an oversized grey t-shirt with a pink Queen logo on the front and pink cotton sleeping pants. The overhead light of the bathroom makes a small rectangle in the carpeted floor, and some steam from your shower still circles around behind you. It takes all Steve’s self-control to stay where he is and not walk up to you and pull you into his arms; no tears between you this time, just Steve holding you the way he wishes he could all the time. He looks at the t-shirt you left on your bed to distract himself and laughs when he notices the colour.
“How’d you guess I love pink?” Steve asks you, glancing your way as he walks towards the bed and holds up the t-shirt. It’s very oversized like yours, and it has a black and fuchsia print of Blondie’s lead singer on it.
“Dunno, just thought it would suit you.” you chuckle, and Steve sees you hold back a smile as you point towards the bathroom. “There’s a spare toothbrush on the sink.”
Steve nods and hurries to the bathroom, lest you notice him blushing. He finds the toothbrush instantly and proceeds to brush his teeth, and though he doesn’t know why, Steve feels extremely happy to know both of you use the same toothpaste. He glances around and looks at all the details that are entirely yours around the room. There are some facial creams on a shelf next to the mirror, a vanilla scented hand soap on the sink, and a look towards the shower shows him two purple and pink shampoo and conditioner bottles –the ones that make your hair smell like flowers. Steve rinses his mouth, then takes off his sweater and jeans before he puts on the pink t-shirt you gave him and, like a freak, smells it to find that somehow your scent still lingers in the soft cotton.
If he was panicking before, he’s panicking even more now. He’s obsessed with you, he realizes, stupidly head over the heels and all of this is making it worse; lying on a bed next to you will make it so much worse. He’s got to pull himself together. He’s doing this because of fear of being home alone, that’s all. He can sleep alongside you for a night without making a fool of himself –or worse, accidentally confess his feelings. So, pushing all bed related thoughts to the back of his mind, he walks out of the bathroom to find you already under your duvet in bed.
 Not letting himself think too much about it, Steve turns off the lamp on your nightstand and slips under the duvet too. He keeps his body still, tense more accurately, as he lies next to you. That is until you turn to face him, and he immediately does too, like a magnet naturally attracted to you.
“Do you ever fear that you’ll wake up one day and everyone you know will be gone?” you whisper in the dark; your voice is almost silent, but Steve hears you loud and clear with how close he is to you. The minty smell of your toothpaste mingles with his own breath. Is this how things are going to be between you now, deep conversations and secrets you only trust to each other? He really hopes so.
Steve shakes his head, trying to make out your face in the dark as his heart constricts in his chest. “No,” he says just as quietly, “But sometimes I’m afraid that something terrible will happen and I won’t be able to help.”
Steve closes his eyes and exhales through his nose as he voices one of his fears for the first time. He’s sure that everything that happened in the Upside Down that they managed to fix was thanks to the brains in his friend group. Steve is all physical strength, which has proved useful in the past, but against monsters or whatever the hell could come next, he’s not sure it will be enough. The thought of being useless like that and everyone suffering because of it terrifies him. Even more now that you’re a part of said friend group. He’s sure of one thing though, he’d protect you and all his friends no matter what.
Your hand slowly moves to his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Knowing you, Steve, I’m a thousand percent sure you’d find a way to help. Your stubbornness can be a good thing.”
A breathy chuckle leaves him as your words punch the air out of him. He’s silent for a moment, scrambling for something reassuring to say back. Words aren’t his forte, not unless he’s flirting. He’d rather pull you close to him and comfort you that way, the way he did in the kitchen. “You know… if we were to disappear for whatever reason, you can bet I’d fight my way to you. You won’t be alone.”
Steve sees you nod your head in the dark, his only sign that you haven’t fallen asleep yet. Your hand goes back to your side, in front of his before you stifle a yawn. Assuming your eyes are tired from all their crying, Steve moves his hand to cup your cheek gently.
“Go to sleep, you need to rest.” He whispers; he wants to give you more comfort, pull you close and rub your back until you fall asleep. He doesn’t because he can’t, that would make things weird.
“Thank you for staying with me.” You whisper back.
Remaining silent to avoid saying something that’d give away just how deep his feelings for you run, or the fact that the opportunity to be lying here next to you is something he should be thankful for, he only rubs his thumb softly on your cheek once more before letting go. With another yawn you turn around, your back facing Steve as you whisper goodnight.
Steve doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but he knows he sleeps more peacefully than he has in a while. Not that he doesn’t sleep well often, but most days his dreamless sleep is a result of the exhaustion of the day and not peacefulness. Last night though, there were no nightmares, no tossing and turning, just a distant dream of a campfire in the woods, fireflies, and a silhouette standing peacefully by the water. At some point, early in the morning, he finds himself waking to the light sneaking into the room from a small gap in the tulle curtains. His eyes that were too sleepy to open, blink awake at the awareness that you’re in his arms. Lovely floral scent and cozy softness pressed to him.
It seems that during the night, you’d shifted to your side and burrowed yourself on his chest, an arm around his waist and leg thrown over his hip. His left arm is around you, settled between your shoulder blades, holding you to him. He lifts it and checks his watch, barely 6am but Steve knows he should go. The last thing he wants is your father getting back home and finding him in your bed. Steve doesn’t know him and that’s not the first impression he’s looking for. Besides, there’s a pressing problem in his briefs, that has appeared from being tangled up with you, that he needs to hide in his jeans before you notice. Shifting his hips way from you he looks down at your sleeping face, brushing hair away from your face before he whispers your name.
“Hmm,” You frown, eyes still closed. “What?”
“You’re a cuddler,” Steve says as he smiles; it’s something that should surprise him, but it doesn’t. Not at all.
“I’m not.” You mumble and, contradicting yourself, press closer to him.   
“Yes, you are.” He chuckles, shifting his hips backwards again. “I have to go.”
You frown but move away from him, turning and facing away. “Why?”
Steve slips from bed and puts his jeans back on, adjust himself, before pulling his sweater over his head and on top of the pink t-shirt. Call him a lovestruck fool, but he’s not giving it back. “I don’t know when your dad’s gonna be back, I don’t want him to find a boy he doesn’t know in your bed.”
You chuckle, then yawn as you shift and sit up in bed. Steve stares at you longer than he should. His eyes take in your messy hair and your still puffy eyes from all your crying the night before. He smiles widely.
“I have drool on my face, don’t I?” You sigh, moving the back of your hand to the corner of your mouth.
Steve laughs and shakes his head. “No, you don’t; you look pretty that’s all.”
His words reward him with an eyeroll and a headshake before you stand up. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
You remain silent as the two of you walk side by side all the way down to the front door. Steve takes his car keys, and you move to open the door, but pause after a moment. Steve’s eyes look into yours as he wonders if there’s something wrong but when your eyes shift up to him, a small smile settles on your lips. Next thing Steve knows, your arms go around him in a hug.
He can’t help but sigh at the feeling and leaning his cheek on top of your head. “You okay?”
You nod and look up at him. “Thank you, Steve.” You say, stepping on the tip of your toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek.
“Don’t thank me.” Steve smiles, letting his arms fall to his sides as his heart skips several beats. “Wanna get a coffee later?”
Is he bribing you with caffeine just to see you again? Of course, he is. Steve is charming, and he has a lot of work to do if he wants to make a move soon.
“Only if I get to pay.” You raise an eyebrow but smile nonetheless, that rare big smile he loves.
Steve huffs and opens the door. “Sure, babe.” He says though he knows you don’t believe him.
He walks to his car when you nod –heart pounding– and smiles as he drives away. Your figure on the rear-view mirror watches him leave until he turns at the end of the driveway. Steve leans his elbow on the door, his hand settling over his mouth as he thinks about the events of last night and this morning. Hope fills his chest, and Steve feels like this is the beginning of something really good for both of you.
 ---
There’s a small shift in your dynamic after that late night conversation in your kitchen. It’s like almost as if it brought you both closer: like a barrier breaking between you and Steve. Steve knows he should take it slow, that he should better conceal his feelings to avoid scaring you off. But another part of Steve wants to throw caution to the wind because there’s been a change in you too. I trust you, Steve, you’d said, and it shows. In the way you sit closer to him, how you give away more pieces of your past and yourself when you talk. There’s less apprehension and more curiosity from both of you and Steve can’t help but fall and fall and fall. He only hopes it doesn’t end up with him crashing down painfully.
The two of you make a new habit of visiting a small the café on the weekends; you sitting sideways on the couch and Steve talking nonsense to make you laugh. It starts the day after the sleepover, and the two of you use it as time to catch up on the events of the week. It delights him; every Saturday, he wants nothing more than to lean close and kiss your smile, the one he never thought he’d be at the receiving end of. You have bad days too, days in which Steve knows you’ve been crying, days where all you want to do is sit in silence with him. Steve doesn’t mind, at all, in fact he loves all your mood equally and now that he knows the backstory of what you went through, he offers you the quiet reassurance of his presence next to you, so you know you’re not alone.
Weeks pass like this, until winter leaves and spring comes. Overnight, the breeze has no bite to it anymore, the flowers bloom again and you begin to wear the prettiest floral dresses that give Steve a whole new reason to be obsessed with you.
“You two are adorable; when are you going to tell her, dingus?”
Steve and Robin had stopped by the Deli to get something to eat during their lunch break while you were on your lunch break too. The three of you had spent the 30 minutes talking between bites of your own sandwiches until the moment Steve had to drive away and you had to go back to your shift. He hears Robins words but his eyes follow your retreating figure until you’re out of sight –his mind is begging him to find you and steal a kiss just so he doesn’t go crazy. Robin snaps her fingers in front of his face and laughs when Steve startles. He rolls his eyes and gets in the car while Robin asks him the same question again.
Steve rolls his eyes again, “Tell her what?”
“That you’re obsessed with her dummy!” Robin hits his arm, Steve sends her an annoyed look, “You love her come on, you have to tell her.”
“No, I can’t.” He’s been thinking about it more often now. Keeping it to himself has been almost impossible lately and he knows he should do it before he breaks.
“Yes, you can, and you have to.” Robin asserts, setting her converse on the dashboard. “She clearly feels the same way.”
“She doesn’t.” Steve’s answer is instant as he focuses on the road and getting back to FV, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard they turn white. It’s a half-lie, and they both know it.
“She does and you know it.” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Robin shake her head.  “The way she looks at you Steve… it’s unbearable to watch, coming from her.”
Steve knows it, he’s seen that change. He’s felt the pitter patter of his heart, the way his hands shake when you look at him like that, like he’s all you want. But Steve is a coward in denial, he doesn’t want to assume wrong and send you running away from him. But if Robin’s seen it… “You really think so?” He says as he parks his car and Robin nods enthusiastically.
“Duh!”
He nods to himself, “Okay... I can tell her tonight. We are hanging out at my place anyway.”
“I’ll make myself scarce, just say the word and I’ll disappear.” When Steve nods Robin cheers, opening the passenger door and stepping outside. “Don’t mess it up, Steve.”
“I’ll try.” Steve grips the steering wheel, trying to calm himself down.
Steve doesn’t get a chance to though, for that afternoon with greying clouds in the sky you show up at Family Video as soon as your shift at the Deli ends. Steve is about to go to the back and finish some inventory he has procrastinated all week when he sees you pacing in front of his car, arms crossed over your chest. His heart soars, then fills with dread –somethings wrong. He knows it right away which is why he rounds the counter and rushes outside in a heartbeat.
“Babe, what’re you doing here?” Steve says as soon as he opens the door. “It’s gonna rain come on, let’s go inside.”
But you shake your head and look at him with a look he can’t name. It’s a sad look, and it makes Steve panic; he panics even more when he sees your eyes are teary and red-rimmed. “Did something happen? At work or at home?”
“I love you.” You say, at the same time thunder cracks in the distance. Your trembling lips press together when Steve’s move to smile, and your headshake makes Steve pause. “But I don’t think we should see each other again.”
“What?” Steve’s question is a whisper, almost lost to another booming thunder. “Why would you say that? Did I do something?”
“No, Steve.” You sigh, voice shaky, looking everywhere but his eyes. Steve knows this tell though; you don’t want to be caught in a lie. “We just don’t fit–”
“No.” He says simply, shaking his head as he interrupts you. This is that night in the Wheeler’s driveway all over again, you trying to shut everyone out. His hands still shake slightly though, at your confession, your words afterwards, at the idea of losing you.
“Steve it won’t work.” You tell him, it cracks halfway with feeling, and you swallow hard before repeating yourself. “It would never work.”
“Yes it will, it’s us.” Steve tells you, shaking his head. He remembers how far you’ve come, how close the two of you have gotten. He should’ve have known it would scare you, after what happened with your family. “Of course it will! It has worked for months.”
“It won’t! It won’t work regardless of our feelings. Because I’m me! And you’re you –you’ll get sick of me and then leave. And it’ll hurt more than anything I’ve ever experienced.” You tell him, shaking your head and looking at him with reddening eyes. Both your arms are crossed over your chest, as if you’re physically protecting your heart from feeling what if feels for him. I love you, you said. Around you, the sky begins to open, bathing both of you with big droplets of water. “I told you before, you scare me because I’ve never felt this way before.”
Steve tries to take a step closer, but you take a step back; it makes him groan in frustration. “You can’t make that decision for me! How can you think I’d just leave you?”
“Because the person who I thought never would, LEFT.” You yell, eyes brimming with tears that roll down your cheeks. They mix with the raindrops that fall on both of you and Steve’s heart aches.
“Then she didn’t love you enough, not the way you deserve.” Steve places his hands on his hips, looking at the wet concrete underneath his shoes. His eyebrows meet in the middle as he swallows hard. He can’t put into words how angry it makes him that someone hurt you so much, that you’re scared of being happy again. “I thought you trusted me.”
“I do.” You tell him, hands falling to your sides. Your voice is so quiet that the rain falling around you almost drowns it out. “You know I do.”
“Then let me love you!” You’re stunned into silence by Steve’s words, confessed loudly in an outburst as he brings his hands to his hair. He meets your eyes and feels his own tear up; he really doesn’t want to lose you. “Let me prove to you that I love you like crazy, baby. Because I do, you have no idea how much.”
Your eyes squeeze shut and Steve knows you can see all of his feelings reflected on his face. “I don’t want to be heartbroken again Steve! Can’t you see you’re sunshine, and I–”
“Don’t say that.” He whispers and steps closer to you, holding both of your hands. The way you cling to them sparks a fire in his heart, keeps his hope alive. “I told you I wouldn’t change a thing about you, that I’d fight my way to you.”
You try to let go of him, but Steve only pulls you closer even as you look away from him, lip trembling. “You know my issues, especially after what happened last year.”
“I do know them, and I’m telling you now that I don’t plan on ever letting you go. This isn’t just a fling, and you know it.” His hands go to your face, holding it gently and looking into your eyes. Those beautiful eyes he’s seen tear up, the ones that crinkle in the corners when you laugh and turn steely when you’re mad. He wants to look at them forever.
You close them, bracing yourself, as the sky continues to fall all around you. Big drops of water hitting your skin and soaking your clothes every second that passes. “Even if I have bad days, or get exasperated with you, or I’m a grump?”
Steve smiles and shakes his head. If only you knew. “I love it when you’re a grump, I want to kiss your pout so badly every time.”
“I don’t pout,” You roll your eyes, but Steve can see you’re trying to hide your fear. He’s learned every little detail about you to memory, this is you trying to build a wall. Well then, Steve knows how to break them down.
“I promise,” Steve says, like he did that November night you fought outside in the cold. His nose brushes against yours as tenderly as he can, rainwater sliding down between your faces –his breath catches on his throat. “I love everything about you, everything baby, trust me. It’s you and me, that won’t change.”
You nod, trust shining in your eyes as a teary smile makes its way to your face when you let it free. It knocks the air out of Steve’s lungs. “Stevie, I love you.”
 He leans his forehead against yours, happy beyond words and because he’s not good with them he says, “I really want to kiss you.”
“Then kiss me,” You urge him.
Steve leans down, holding your face in his hands and lingering close as he braces himself for this; this moment he’s wished for so many times. He smiles, and thinks finally, before leaning in and kissing you. A noise dies in the back of his throat, his chest feels full of helium and his mind reels at the everything he’s feeling. It’s even better than he dreamed it would be. Your lips soft against his, your hands in his hair, the sigh that escapes you when one of his arms wraps around your waist and presses you flush against him. His skin is buzzing, his fingertips are tingling. So he kisses you until you’re both dizzy, brushing his tongue against yours, matching your intensity head-on. Everything is intoxicating, the sweet scent of your perfume, the softness under his hands, the way your face feels like it’s on fire as his hand remains cupping your cheek. Steve is so in love he could faint, so he breathes you in as he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck and just below your ear until the two of you pull back. Soaked in rain, without a care in the world.
“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?” You ask him softly, stepping impossibly closer to him.
Steve smiles proudly, heart soaring. “Yes it does, I’m yours.”
“I want to kiss you again.” You confess after a minute, blinking away that raindrops that have gathered in your eyelashes and smiling at him. “But I’m cold.”
 Steve laughs when you frown and pulls you closer to him. “Yeah, we should probably get out of the rain.”
----
thank you for reading! reblogs are really appreciated and so is any feedback 💖
(I also wrote this tiny insight to grumpy reader’s feelings here )
3K notes · View notes
munsonson · 1 year
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𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏『••✎••』
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘴 𝘶𝘱 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳. 𝘜𝘯𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘮, 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘢𝘴.
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): 𝘌𝘥𝘥𝘪𝘦 𝘔𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘰𝘯/𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘚𝘵𝘦𝘷𝘦 𝘏𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘵𝘰𝘯/𝘍𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): 𝘈𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘗𝘳𝘰𝘧𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4
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This shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. 
Things could’ve ended far worse than they actually did. Hell, most of the couples in their school tended to make breakups as dramatic as possible, normally painting one half of the relationship as some kind if irredeemable monster, if not to paint them as this sympathetic martyr, than just to save face that it actually hurt. 
In her case, Eddie Munson told her they just weren’t a good match and he wanted to be friends again instead. That was as healthy as they could possibly get. And in the best case scenario, too, she’d still be able to have him be a part of her life. She didn’t think she could stand the thought of seeing him in the halls and not being able to acknowledge him. 
She’d fallen hard and fast for Eddie, embarrassingly so. 
Given the heavy duty of designated driver for the little hooligans she’d somehow decided to adopt with Steve Harrington, she’d gotten accustomed to waiting in the high school parking lot, her nose pressed into the creases of her current novel while she waited for them to finish their important campaigns, all procured from the brilliant mind of Eddie Munson. 
She’d known him before then, too, but only in passing. He’d often make a big spectacle of himself in the cafeteria just to bug the other students, and he held the record as super senior. But she’d never even talked to him until she saw him walk the boys out after a seemingly successful campaign, his arms wrapped tightly around Dustin and Lucas’ shoulders as he praised them.
He’d acknowledged her when he got to her car. 
“My fair maiden,” he’d said, “I apologize for the delay.”
She’d blubbered out some kind of half-hearted response, good enough to make him laugh, and that made her heart go a million miles a minute. 
It didn’t take long before she’d gotten the courage to ask him out, even if it was just for coffee. He was surprised, but he agreed. 
It had been nice, he even drove her home after. She probably should’ve seen the signs then because he didn’t suggest a second meet up, she had instead. And he’d agreed.
It was about a month before they made themselves official, in Hawkins High language, practically married. But it really just meant she got to hold his hand between classes and get quick kisses goodbye when it was time to separate, somehow always on her cheek than her lips. 
She’d thought their dates were fun; it was a lot of pressure since he always left it up to her, never having any other idea than lounging about her home and just watching TV. But she was the one who thought of renting movies for horror marathons, figuring it was up his alley. She thought of bowling and drive-in theaters and picnicking near the quarry for its desolate atmosphere, another thing she figured was right up his alley. 
But things came to an underwhelming end when Eddie approached her at her locker on some random Thursday to tell her things just weren’t working out and he wanted to stay as friends. Despite how much even that had hurt, she agreed. She didn’t want to make him do anything he regretted. 
She could still be friends with him, happily so. That meant she could still sit with him at lunch, hear his outlandish tales, and be able to admire him from afar, even if she was no longer able to touch him and hold his hand. 
“Be honest,” she’d heard Gareth say as she approached with her tray, “what really happened? You know, most guys woulda killed to be able to take her out, the fact she stuck around for months is surprising enough.”
Eddie shrugs, chewing absentmindedly on a pretzel he’d brought. She would pack him lunches when they were together since he always forgot and resorted to eating prepackaged things instead. Since they broke up, it seemed like old habits really did die hard. 
“To tell you the truth,” he starts rather dramatically, “no substance. Pretty face, nice voice, real sweet, but God, boring as all hell.” He runs a hand down his face. The other boys seemed surprised. Dustin and Mike share a look, but say nothing, clearly waiting to hear more. Because there was no way it could be just that. There had to be more. They knew her better than anyone, had been through so much with her. What could be the real reason Eddie broke things off?
“And?” Dustin coaxes.
“And what?”
“Dude, seriously?” Mike scoffs. “She wasn’t interesting enough for you?”
Eddie shakes his head. “Look, she’s a great gal. And I know you guys are super close, which is awesome, but we just weren’t the best match. And I felt like shit that she was putting in all of the effort when I wasn’t interested. Now she’s free to...I dunno...find someone boring, too.” He sniggers, elbowing Jeff beside him trying to get him to laugh, too, but he could see how upset Dustin and Mike were. 
Luckily, for her sake, they didn’t notice her standing there, having overheard everything. Spinning right back around, she’d ditched her tray onto one of the trash bins before leaving the cafeteria completely before there was a chance anyone could see her tears. 
God, it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, she thinks again. He was more than welcome to have his own opinion, but why did it have to be something like that? 
He was right, she wasn’t exactly Chrissy Cunningham or Heather Holloway, being this huge spectacle that made every new day more exciting than the last. All things considered, sometimes too much excitement frightened her. Having risked her life at least once a year for nearly four years now made her yearn for the more simple things. It was stupid of her to think Eddie would want the same. Eddie Munson, who liked to make scenes in the cafeteria and rock out in a bar with his band. He didn’t crave the simplicity of life like she did.
She didn’t go back into that cafeteria for the remaining of the lunch period. In fact, she’d decided to skip the rest of the day completely, knowing she shared three periods with Eddie and right now she really didn’t want to see him. She just wanted to get away, leave herself to her own thoughts to try to calm down. 
Well, that really only lasted for ten minutes because she found herself pulling into the small parking lot into Family Video. She spots Steve’s car at the far end and knows he’s inside. It was childish of her to go running and crying to Steve Harrington, who she knew would take her side and say all the cruel things about Eddie that she couldn’t bring herself to because she really just needed someone on her side right now. Aside from Dustin and Mike, of course. She wouldn’t forget how they jumped to her defense. 
The little bell rings at the top of the door as she walks in, startling Steve into consciousness, who seemed to be snoozing on the edge of the counter, drool pooled across his forearm. He wipes feverishly at his face and blinks unfocused in her direction, trying to situate himself quickly into his customer service face.
“Welcome to Fam-Jesus, you scared me,” he cuts himself off when he at last realizes it’s her. Confused, he turns to glance at the clock hung up on the wall. “Don’t tell me school’s out already? You beat Robin here.”
“No, I’m playing hooky,” she shakes her head, unsteadily moving towards the counter. 
“What? You? I’m sorry, am I still dreaming?” Steve asks dramatically. “Since when do you, of all people, ever skip class? I’d sooner believe Nancy doing it than you.”
“Just...needed a break s’all,” she says with a shrug, looking around. “Keith not here?”
“Nah, he’s off today. Something about a new graphic novel he’s been dying to get. Says he’d have to wait overnight just to get one of the first editions. I don’t know, I don’t really listen to him unless he’s handing over my check,” Steve said. She leans up against the counter, trying to act casual. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t things be okay?”
“Well, for one, having to clarify that things are supposed to be okay when asked if everything’s okay is a pretty big indicator that things aren’t, in fact, okay.” Steve says with a laugh. “So everything’s not okay, then?”
“Everything’s okay,” she lies. “I just...can I ask you something?”
“Yeah?”
She isn’t sure how to come out and say it without sounding stupid. Better, she can’t figure out a way to come out and say it without sounding completely pathetic. But this was Steve, he was the king of asking her embarrassing things. He even called her once at three in the morning to ask how long you were supposed to leave cookies in the oven for. The follow up question was how to get the burnt smell out before his mom came home. 
“Am I boring?”
Steve tilts his head. “Huh?”
“Am I boring, Steve? Am I boring?”
“No? Who gave you that idea?” Steve snorts, like he thinks it was a foolish thing to ask. “Whoever it is clearly hasn’t seen you handle a crowbar.” He was referencing when she’d nabbed a crowbar from the junkyard lot to fend off the demodogs with him, all to protect the little ones in the bus. She doesn’t want to remember that right now, not when it makes her feel cold inside. 
“Nobody, I just...I dunno, I just think that maybe I’m not as exciting as, like...you o-or Rob or Nancy or, hell, even Jonathan.” 
“Nonsense, you’re a badass! True story, you know I wouldn’t say that about just any...” Steve trails off, finally really looking at her. “Hey...hey, why are you really askin’ me that? Something happen? Someone say something to you?”
“No, Steve, I was just asking.”
“You’re lying,” he accuses. “Who was it, was it Byers? Nancy? Not Robin...”
“No! No, Steve, they didn’t say anything, please just drop it. I shouldn’t have asked.”
Steve’s face eventually relaxes, having realized he knew exactly who she was talking about.
“Munson.”
She shakes her head. “Stop it, Steve.”
“What did he say? I thought he just wanted to be friends, where’s all this coming from?” he asked. There were too many questions being thrown at her. She doesn’t want to cry, especially not in front of him, but as soon as she feels her cheek dampen that was it. Soon she was burying her face in her hands and trying to stop the little whimpers from coming out.
She doesn’t notice Steve leap easily over the counter. He pulls her close, shushing her quietly. 
“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you upset,” he says. She sniffles, wrapping her arms around him. He’s petting her hair, kissing the crown of her head, trying his damndest to get her to calm down and talk to him. He was the perfect person to come to, she now realizes. Her subconscious knew Steve was the answer.
When she finally stopped crying, he at last let her go, giving her some space.
She rubs the tears from her eyes and wipes the tears on her jeans.
“Want me to kill him?” he asks jokingly. She laughs. He smiles again. “What happened? Can you tell me now?”
She told him what Eddie had said, the real reason he’d broken up with her and how she ran from the cafeteria and came here. Steve was reasonably upset, but he didn’t want to make it all about pounding Eddie into a pulp, he knew she needed her friend right now and he was prepared to be just that.
“Hey, screw him,” Steve scoffs, throwing an arm over her shoulders and pulling her back into his chest. “You’re far from boring, believe me, and honestly if you ask me you could do so much better than Eddie Munson. The guy picks his nose. I saw him once. It was gnarly.”
She’s laughing again, playfully hitting him. 
“Thank you, Steve,” she says, “I’m sorry to dump all this on you, I just needed someone to talk to, you know?” 
“Well, you came to the right guy. I can’t tell you it gets much better from public humiliation, but I can tell you that you find much better shit to focus on. Like this obviously stellar job. Robin. My new stereo I saved up for. And...well, you.” He playfully flicks her nose. She wrinkles her nose and swats his hand away. “Eddie doesn’t know what he’s talkin’ about. But I know he’s gonna kick himself in the ass when he realizes he lost a girl like you.”
“Yeah, you’re just saying that ‘cause you’re my friend.” 
“Not true, I also wanna bug you for your famous cookies.” Steve winks.
“I can bring them to you tonight, then.” she said, patting his arm. “I should get going. Um...you clearly are very busy and I don’t wanna keep you from doing your job.”
“I know, such a bad influence. The gateway rebellion was skipping class. Now it’s job defiance,” Steve chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, um...if you want, when you come by tonight, maybe you could stick around? Was gonna rifle through the back, borrow some flicks to waste my evening away. Free to join me if you want? Robin flaked out on me, says she’s doing some band practice with Vicky. Didn’t ask for details.”
She thinks about it and smiles. “Sounds like fun. Girls’ night.”
“Invitation rescinded!” Steve shouts, turning away. 
“No, I’m kidding, I’m kidding, stop!” she protests, giggling. “I’ll bring cookies and pizza, Steve. I’ll be there.”
“Alright, then,” Steve said. “Um...hey, don’t worry about Eddie, alright? He’s just being a dick. And honestly, apart from his relationship with the rugrats, he’s still gonna be a dick. He missed out on a girl like you. Clearly he’s a martian.”
“Doesn’t mean much when I’m from Hawkins. But thank you, Steve. I’ll see you tonight,” she says, squeezing his hand and finally leaving the store back to her car. She left feeling much lighter than she had going in. He was right. Forget Eddie. If he thought she was so boring he clearly didn’t need her around him. She had other friends, friends like Steve.
Smiling to herself, she climbs into the driver’s seat and turns the key into the ignition, hearing the engine roar to life.
Things would be just fine. 
7K notes · View notes
loveshotzz · 1 month
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I guess it’s never really over
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mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers
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summary: Convinced by your best friend to return to Hawkins for the summer, nothing is like how you left it five years ago, including the boy you’ve done nothing but try and forget.
warnings: 18+ for smut, each chapter will have their own warnings, exes to lovers, drinking, smoking, angst/hurt, comfort, late/80’s early 90’s, no upside down, Robin is your best friend and Steve’s too 🙄, also featuring mechanic!eddie.
📻 series playlist
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Late arrivals and big asks
I might kill my ex, not the best idea
This has got to be the longest crush ever
Honey, on your knees when you look at me (coming soon 🌻)
Kissin’ and I hope they caught us
You could do damage
Slow dance these summer nights, our disco ball is my kitchen light
Just because it’s over doesn’t mean it’s really over
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1K notes · View notes
appocalipse · 2 months
Text
MAKE IT EASY : ̗̀➛ STEVE HARRINGTON
・❥・part 1・part 2 ❥・3.8k words
Summary: steve asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for a family dinner. the problem is: after all is said and done, he gives you the cold shoulder. have you done something wrong?
requested by my beloved @stevebabey 🥺
a/n: this was supposed to be a drabble, and now, oh well...I had to split it into two parts. here we go.
・❥・
It was the epitome of a terrible idea.
And it had started that day. 
The very moment Steve walked into the diner your family owned, you knew something was wrong. Not that it was uncommon for Steve to visit you at work — not at all. In fact, it was almost a weekly occurrence, the highlight of it, in fact, for you; the odd part was that Steve never showed up alone, without at least a few of the kids. On that Wednesday night, he was not only alone but also strangely nervous.
You rarely saw Steve get nervous. His confidence was as much a part of him as his signature perfect hair. But tonight, his hands fidgeted with the edge of his jacket, eyes darting around the diner as if searching for an escape route. He looked like he was trying to convince himself to leave.
Weird.
"Steve," you greeted him with a warm smile, hoping to ease his obvious tension a little bit as he approached the counter. "You look like you've seen a Demogorgon."
It was supposed to be a joke. You only felt comfortable saying that now because — luckily — things had been quiet at Hawkins. It had been a long time since you and your friends had to deal with one. But something about Steve's demeanor really made you wonder if there was more to this visit than just a friendly catch-up.
He tried for a convincing chuckle, but it came out tinged with a hint of sadness instead. "I wish," he said, and then quickly shook his head, "Actually no, of course not. I kinda…There's something I wanted to-"
You furrowed your brows, concern knitting your features together. At this point, Steve's tension seemed to be rubbing off on you.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine, just…can we talk?"
"Of course."
He glanced around the diner, gaze briefly flitting over the empty tables and the neon glow of the jukebox. "Not here," he murmured, voice barely audible above the din of conversation and clinking dishes. It was a busy night, despite being Wednesday. "Can you, like, take a break?"
For Steve, of course you could.
Curiosity mingled with concern, and you followed his lead, stepping out into the cool night air. The streets were bathed in the soft glow of streetlights, casting elongated shadows that danced upon the pavement. You leaned against the side of the building, your eyes fixed on Steve, awaiting an explanation for his beyond unusual behavior.
He raked his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit that seemed magnified in this moment. "Look," he began, his voice tinged with a vulnerability you hadn't heard before, "I need a favor- a big one."
Oh, Jesus. "Steve," you placed a hand over your chest, breathing a sigh of relief. "For a moment there I thought you were going to say something terrible. A favor? C'mon, sure. What do you want me to do?"
Steve's eyes met yours, his gaze earnest and…vulnerable?
"I... I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend... Just for one night!" he quickly added, like he was afraid you might misinterpret his request, say no even before he could finish… but no, of course you wouldn't. Far from it. 
Who wouldn't want to date Steve Harrington?
"But why would you-"
"My parents," Steve interjected, tone deeply tinged with unease, "they're in town."
"Oh." Steve rarely ever spoke about his parents, and their mere presence seemed to have stirred a sense of apprehension within him. "Are they still... difficult?" 
You knew you were touching scars, deep scars. You made sure to be gentle.
Steve sighed, gaze fixed on the ground. 
"Yeah, you could say that," a hint of frustration colored his voice, as if he were carrying on his shoulders the weight of every little judgemental glare they had ever sent his way. "Nothing I do is ever enough for them. They've always been focused on money and success. To them, that's the measure of worth. And because I don't fit their mold of the perfect, ambitious son, they treat me like…well, you know how they treat me."
Indeed, you knew.
Steve looked like he didn't know you were unable to say no to him.
And that's how you put yourself into one hell of a mess.
+
It's Saturday night and you're standing in front of the mirror, desperately trying to zip up your stupid dress. Why anyone would put a zipper in the back of a dress, in the most difficult possible place for a person to reach on their own, is something you are unable to fathom.
But then again, maybe you're the stupid one in this story, you think bitterly, since it was you who chose the dress with the zipper in the back in the first place.   
Why are you trying so hard, though?
"I'm not," you tell yourself out loud, stubbornly.
There is a big pile of discarded clothes on your bed that says otherwise.  
With a feeling akin to fear bubbling in your stomach, you glance at the clock. It's almost seven. For fuck's sake. 
You're late. 
Steve will arrive soon, and you are apparently unable to close the damn zipper of your own dress, no matter in which awkward positions you try twisting yourself into…you just can't reach it.
The doorbell rings.
The world is truly a dark place, isn't it?      
You freeze. It can only be Steve. Shit, shit, shit! For a moment, you consider the idea of simply not opening the door, turning off the lights and pretending you never agreed to take part in this madness that is dining with the Harringtons.
HA! As if you'd really be able to turn your back on Steve. 
You take a deep breath, accepting the battle you just lost, and decide that your only and best option is to simply open the door and ask Steve for help — mortified or not. With no choice but to leave the dress with the zipper still open and your back somewhat exposed, you quickly walk to the door to open it.
"Sorry, I'm late," you say, a little out of breath. "I had a little problem with the dress and I... flowers?"   
Flowers, for sure. Steve holds a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He looks at you for a moment, then his eyes run over the partly open dress and your exposed skin for a couple of seconds too long to be accidental. You swallow thickly.
"Yeah I..." he shakes his head, a little uncomfortable standing there, and then his eyes meet yours. "The flowers are for you. Do you want me to...?" he mimics the motion of closing a zipper.
You feel your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but there is no choice but to accept. You look at him, a mix of gratitude and nervousness in your eyes.  
"Yeah, that would be great," you reply, stumbling over the words. 
If he notices, he doesn't say anything.  
Steve comes closer and hands you the bouquet, your fingers briefly touching his. You catch a whiff of his cologne — citrusy fruit and wood notes — as you turn around, brushing your hair away from your neck.    
For a moment, Steve does nothing, and you wonder if he is just figuring out the best way to close the zipper…or something else entirely. 
His touch ghosts down your bare back before his hand finally, finally finds the zipper. Slowly, he pulls it up, inch by inch, and you hold your breath for a moment, lost in a feeling your best friend is definitely not supposed to evoke in you. You feel the dress tighten, fabric adjusting to your body, his fingers inevitably brushing your skin and sending unexpected tingles up your spine. You try to ignore the trail of electricity left by the tip of his fingers as you turn to face him, eyes finding his.
"There you go", he murmurs, taking his hands off you and taking a small step back. "You look very... girlfriend."  
You laugh.   
"Thank you", you say softly, your heart beating faster. "You also look very boyfriend."
A small smile plays on Steve's lips, a flush creeping up his cheeks. Or maybe it's just the cold night breeze coming through the open door...   
Steve's gaze drifts to your lips and lingers there for way too long to be accidental. He is so close that he starts crushing the bouquet between the two of you…
Something clicks inside of you. Common sense, perhaps.
"Thank you... for the flowers."
The spell breaks; he moves away so fast that you almost drop the flowers on the floor.   
"Yeah, uh, no problem," he says quickly, regaining his composure. "Ready to go?"
Disappointment stabs at you, but you try to hide it. Maybe you imagined too much, read signs where there were none.  
"Sure. I'll just put the flowers in a vase."
It's an excuse to catch your breath. You walk to the kitchen, put water in the first clean container you find and put the flowers in it. Deep breaths, deep breaths.
Your heart is racing and yet nothing has happened. It's just dinner, you tell yourself, I've had dinner with Steve and the others before. It's just dinner.   
So why did you try so hard to look beautiful? insists the other voice in your mind. You decide it's best not to answer.
"You okay?"  
Steve is at the kitchen door, all concern and soft brown eyes.  You must have taken too long.
"Yes, I'm fine," you reply, forcing a smile to calm your own anxiety. "I was just taking care of the flowers. Ready to go?"
Steve nods. A gentleman, he opens the car door for you to get in. It's a short drive to the Harrington house, and you take the opportunity to try to calm your nerves. Looking out the window, you watch the city lights blinking as you approach your destination.
You look at him. You have the impression that Steve is driving slightly slower than necessary.
"Can I ask you something?" you say, unsure.
Steve briefly glances at you before returning his attention to the road, looking so stiff you're under the impression he might break his back at any moment.
"Sure, what's up?"
"Why did you ask me to pretend to be your girlfriend? I mean, I understand the part about your parents…but why didn't you bring someone you're actually dating or something?"
There's a brief moment of silence before Steve responds, his voice a bit softer.
"Actually, I'm not really dating anyone at the moment," he admits. "And when my parents mentioned the dinner, I kind of panicked. I didn't want to show up alone and face more questions about my life, you know?"
"I know," you respond, understandingly. "And why did you choose me specifically?"
He looks away for a moment before answering.
"Because you're perfect," he says, finally looking back at you. Then quickly, as if he only just realized the words slipped out on their own, he adds, nervously staring back at the road, "I mean, my parents, they... you're perfect for them. They're going to love you."
You feel a mix of surprise, satisfaction, and confusion with Steve's response. You try not to read any deeper meaning behind the words, telling yourself not to notice how he quickly tries to disguise them.
"I see," you reply, although you don't really understand anything. Steve seems to say one thing when he means another. "Well, I hope I can do well. I mean, I'm not very convincing when I lie."
Steve smiles briefly and nods.
"I'm sure you'll be great. Just... be yourself."
You appreciate Steve's vote of confidence and focus on staying calm as the car approaches the Harringtons' house. Although there's still a lingering questioning in your mind about Steve's earlier response, you decide to set it aside for now and focus on the immediate task.
Steve parks the car, and you both step out together. Nervousness returns as you approach the front door. You exchange a quick glance with Steve, seeking mutual encouragement.
As you walk toward the house's entrance, Steve's hand finds yours. He gently squeezes it, and you're not sure if he's trying to convey or seek comfort himself. You don't mind anyway.
The door opens, revealing Steve's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Harrington. As you prepare to enter their house, they cast evaluative glances your way, as you had expected. Mrs. Harrington's smile seems a bit forced, while Mr. Harrington maintains a serious expression you can't even begin to try to read.
It's not like you expected anything different.
"Mom," says Steve in lieu of a greeting. "Dad."
"Steve, you finally made it," says Mrs. Harrington, her tone somehow a mix of relief and disapproval. "And this must be your... girlfriend."
Steve maintains his composure as he introduces you, although you can sense a slight tension in his shoulders. It's only when he says your last name that Steve's parents' gazes turn into something completely different, almost a scientific interest.
Hawkins is a small place. Your parents' business is respected enough in town.
All eyes turn to you, and you try not to show the insecurity you feel inside. Mr. Harrington studies you for a moment, his penetrating gaze seeming to assess your suitability for his son.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Harrington," he finally says, extending an unusually large hand for a formal greeting.
You shake his hand firmly, trying to convey a confidence you're not quite sure you feel. "The pleasure is mine, Mr. Harrington. Thank you for the invitation."
Mrs. Harrington still seems a bit unsettled but composes herself as she invites you inside. You're making your way toward the dining room when you feel Steve's hand intertwine with yours again, and when your gaze meets his, he's smiling.
Thank you, he mouths.
You smile back.
During dinner, you make an effort to be as pleasant and interesting as you can possibly be in the eyes of Steve's parents, responding politely and trying to find points of common interest. In turn, Steve makes an effort to showcase his worth, defending his accomplishments, however small and sharing his plans for the future, painting an image of maturity that, you can tell by the look in his parents' eyes, they were not expecting.
Throughout the evening, you realize that although Steve's parents are demanding and neglectful in many aspects, they also seem to have their own insecurities and concerns. They want the best for Steve, even if their way of expressing it is at least…unusual.
As the night progresses, you find yourself navigating this strange family dynamic better and better, to the point where Steve's parents' attention is fully on you, and it doesn't even feel that uncomfortable anymore. You even laugh at one point.
By the end of the dinner, as you two prepare to leave, you notice a very similar expression of relief on the faces of Steve's parents. They seem to have found some kind of approval in the way you both behaved together during the evening.
As you say goodbye, Mr. Harrington extends his hand again, but this time, his handshake is warmer, less formal, and Mrs. Harrington's smile almost seems genuine. Almost.
"It was a pleasure having you here," she says. "You should bring her more often, Steve."
You and Steve exchange a look of surprise. Had you somehow managed to create a connection with his parents?
As you walk away from the Harringtons' house, Steve's hand finds yours for the third time that night, and an optimistic part of you registers the fact that there's no one else here to see. He gently squeezes it, his brown eyes filled with gratitude when they meet yours.
"You were amazing," he says, genuinely smiling.
In the car, during the ride back, you both talk animatedly about the night and his parents' reactions. The tension from dinner seems to have diminished, leaving you both more relaxed and confident.
When you arrive in front of your house, Steve turns off the car and gets out to accompany you to the front door, even after you— out of politeness, mind you — said it's really not necessary. 
"You know, I didn't expect everything to go so well tonight," says Steve, with a playful smile. "I can't believe I'm saying this about a dinner with my parents, but thanks to you, it was even fun."
You laugh. "I kinda had fun too. I think we did better than we thought possible."
"You're amazing," he says again, and this time his voice carries a softer, more intimate tone. His eyes meet yours, shining, and you see admiration there…maybe, you dare to think, something even deeper.
The silence grows tense. Your heart races. There's something special happening between you, you know there is; this goes beyond mere friendship or pretending to be a couple for one night…doesn't it?
Are you imagining this?
"Steve..."
You can't finish before he's leaning in slowly, and you're almost certain his eyes are fixed on your lips. For a feverish moment, you think Steve is going to kiss you.
He tilts his head last second. You feel the softness of his lips brushing against your cheek a moment later, a light and brief kiss, mouth almost uncertain against your warm skin….and then it's over.
Steve pulls back slowly. 
"Goodnight," he says, eyes soft, smile softer. "Thank you…for today."
"You're welcome."
It's only when you enter the house that the dress dilemma comes to mind. 
Well…shit.
The zipper at the back is still unreachable for you, and you can't undo it yourself unless you use scissors — which, considering the price you paid for it, you really don't want to do.
With few options and too much embarrassment, you decide to call Steve back while you still can.
"Steve?" you practically shout, your embarrassment immediately doubling. He's about to open the door of his trusted BMW when he turns to you, confused and unfairly handsome under the street light.
Suddenly using the scissors on the dress doesn't seem like such a bad idea anymore.
Well, too late.
"Could you, you know... " you ask, gesturing to the back of your dress, "help me with the zipper?"
His initial surprise quickly gives way to a nervous smile.
"Sure. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn't help?"
"I'm sure that's one of the many job duties."
"Definitely. And I strive to be a top-notch fake boyfriend."
He steps in. With the door closed behind the two of you, the atmosphere takes on a sense of intimacy and anticipation.
"I really can't reach the zipper," you feel the need to explain, even more flustered by his silence.
"No problem," Steve says with that gentle tone that makes your heart do funny things inside your chest. "Turn around."
You turn so that he can reach the dress' zipper, and now you're facing the large oval mirror in the hallway, with Steve standing right behind you.
He reaches out gently, his fingers lightly brushing the back of your dress.
Breathe in. 
The temperature around you seems to rise a few degrees.
Breath out. 
You feel the gentle pressure of his fingers as he starts to slide the zipper down. He touches your skin and you tell yourself that this is inevitable, that he didn't mean to…but he lingers. Lingers just enough for you to tense up and let out a breathless sigh you certainly didn't intend to.
"Are you okay?" Steve asks, his voice soft, filled with concern. You know he's looking at you through the mirror and that's precisely why you keep your gaze on the floor. "Are my fingers cold?"
"No, your fingers..." your voice sounds hoarse. You clear your throat. "...it's fine, I'm okay."
I'm great. I'm more than okay. Nothing out of the ordinary happening here.
However, when the zipper seems to momentarily get stuck — because of course  it had to — the two of you exchange equally panicked looks through the mirror, though perhaps for different reasons. An uncomfortable silence fills the air as Steve tries to fix the issue.
"I'm... it's just... sorry, it seems to be stuck."
There's a moment of awkward silence as he tries to figure out a way to open the zipper. You can feel the tension in the air as he struggles to handle the situation.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" you joke, desperately trying to ease the tension.
Steve lets out a low laugh, his warm breath gently caressing your neck.
"Absolutely," he replies, his voice slightly husky. Then, probably without so much as noticing, he adds, "I've taken off many dresses before."
Oh.
"Steve-"
Steve doesn't give up. With skilled fingers, he adjusts the position of the zipper and makes another attempt. It moves.
"We're almost there," he murmurs softly, his voice close to your ear.
Finally, with a smooth motion, the zipper gives way, sliding all the way down. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, and you turn around to face Steve, finding his eyes filled with excitement.
"I did it!"
His enthusiastic smile soon gives way to something else as he realizes how close — and technically partly undressed — you are.
And close you are, so very close. Close enough that you and Steve are somehow breathing the same air now.
Close enough, you realize, that a slight tilt of the head and...you'd be kissing.
Kissing.
Did he notice that too?
You hold your dress up over your chest to make sure it doesn't fall because, well…no matter how distracted you are, it's not enough that you'd risk a wardrobe malfunction that'll leave you standing there naked in front of Steve Harrington.
"...thanks," you manage a whisper, lips a hair's breadth away from his. You do know that Steve has no reason not to go now that dinner is over and everything went (surprisingly) well, but a part of you wonders if maybe…
Steve's hands hover around your waist as if unsure of what to do next. 
So close...
You hold still.
In that breathless silence, you're under the impression that Steve leans closer, even if just the slightest bit, maybe without even noticing. 
"Steve…" you slowly tilt your head to the side.
Steve's heart is pounding in his chest as he feels the warmth of your breath against his lips. Stop, he thinks. His eyes flutter closed, and Steve can't help but lean in just a little bit more. 
He raises his arm as if to touch you, wanting to touch you, to hold your face, to bring you closer…but he stops with one of his hands hovering near your cheek.
He pulls away with a gasp, his hands flying up to his face in shock. "I should-" he stammers. "I need to go."
Bam.
Door closed.
And just like that, he's out of the house before you can even open your eyes properly.
He just…pulled away. 
What the hell was that?
2K notes · View notes
strangerstilinski · 6 months
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𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙝𝙤𝙬, 𝙬𝙚'𝙧𝙚 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚
summary; it’s been a long couple of months, and after a particularly rough night, your ex boyfriend finds his way straight back to you.
warnings; no use of y/n, post s4, exes-to-lovers, description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, emotional sex, unprotected vaginal sex, a lil bit of cockwarming
word count; ~5k
a/n; i meant for this to be a quick little hurt/comfort thing but then my mind kind of ran wild and it turned into.. this. but i think i really like how it turned out sooo, y'know.. leave a comment/tag/reblog if you enjoy!
𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝟏𝟖+
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You're not entirely certain who you were expecting to find on the other side of your door at two in the morning, and maybe you should've given the possibilities a bit more thought before unlocking the door and swinging it open wide, effectively exposing yourself to whatever may be waiting on the other side — but you don't. And it's with a sleep-slowed brain, a baggy tshirt resting high on your naked thighs, and bare feet that drag lazy across cold floorboards, that you find yourself staring at your ex boyfriend.
Steve Harrington.
He's standing in front of you looking a little nervous, a little lost, and a whole lot like he's just come from some sort of brawl. The sudden brightness of the hallway lights outside of your apartment makes your eyes ache and you're squinting, one hand coming up to block a bit of the light just as your heart drops as you take him in.
His hair is a little longer than when you last saw him, impossible for him to keep from flopping down over his forehead while the ends curl at the nape of his neck, light shining down on the strands and streaking golden through the locks that you'd run your hands through once upon a time. But you're hardly able to process or file away those small changes when your gaze begins frantically to absorb the more important and wildly more alarming details in his appearance.
The light wash of his jeans is covered in splotches of denim slightly darker than the rest where something's been spilled down his leg, streaks of dirt rubbed into the knees like he'd fallen down, and blood — there are crimson drops of it splattered along the fabric at his thigh, likely his, likely from the split lip he's sporting, or perhaps from his bruising nose.. When those red smears crusted beneath his nostrils had been fresh and wet and had clearly dripped down past his chin and onto the collar of his shirt, which also seems to be stained in an array of red-splotched fabric.
“Fuck. Steve, what-” Your voice shakes through the sleepy rasp in your throat, blood roaring in your ears at the familiarity of it all — the scene in front of you sending that achingly familiar trickle of fear and worry and panic all racing down your spine.
“I- Hey, sweetheart.” His own voice cracks a little like his throat's been scraped raw from shouting. He's got his hands tucked away in his back pockets like he might be able to make himself small enough that you won't start yelling, his eyes sad and a little pleading as he gives you a weak smile. He lets out a small hiss of a wince when the motion pulls at the slow drying scab on his lower lip.
“Stevie..” The nickname slips out before you can swallow it down.
You think that you might be in shock, if the adrenaline shooting through your veins is anything to go by. It's making it a little difficult to think clearly as you stumble through the doorway, hands coming into contact with his chest as you brace yourself. Your thumbs find those drops of blood that are still drying into the fabric of his shirt, shaking fingers dragging over the freckles on the side of his throat on their way to his jaw.
You have to fight the instinct to linger on those faded scars encircling his neck, have to fight to push back the memories of the night that things between you had finally fallen apart — when all of Steve's half-truths and secrets and outright lies had finally pushed you to your breaking point. The night of the earthquake. When he'd shown up on your doorstep in the early hours of the morning, just like this, looking like he'd been to hell and back, in search of comfort and someone to patch him up but apparently not looking to give out any explanations for the state he'd come to you in. Not for the marks on his neck, and certainly not for the horrifying chunks of flesh that had been torn from his stomach and sides.
The fear you'd felt that night coils in your gut again. It's the very same fear that you'd endured eight months before the end, when Steve had gone awol for forty-eight hours only to find you the evening of the mall fire. That time, his left eye had been nearly swollen shut, body littered in bruises in varying shades of black and purple. You'd sat with him in the bathtub with your limbs carefully wrapped around him for hours, until the water had gone ice cold, and even after that he'd been glued to your side until morning. You'd both burrowed beneath a pile of blankets despite the summer heat, legs tangled and sweaty bodies clinging to one another. Even though you couldn't begin to understand how the fire could have been the cause of his turmoil, of his injuries, you'd still held him tight, one hand tangled in his damp hair at all times while he'd clutched onto you like you were his lifeline. The hours it had taken for the tremble in his hands to fade had nearly broken your heart.
It's all a little too much, the position that you've suddenly been thrust back into.
“Wh-? What the hell happened?” You question hoarsely.
Why you bother to ask now, you're not entirely sure. You're certainly not expecting him to give you any answers, but as your thumb pushes gently into the swelling softness of his busted lip, the fingers of your opposite hand brushing the hair back from his blood-spattered forehead, Steve sighs.
“It's not.. I was at the bar. Got into a fight.” He admits with another wince as your thumb skates up the bridge of his nose.
“Got into a fight or started a fight?” You ask quietly, eyes flicking slow between his; they're tired and bloodshot, his lashes clumped together like maybe he'd been crying, caramel swirling in the pretty brown depths that you'd been steadfastly avoiding thinking about these last few months.
A huff crackles as he tries to push a sigh from his blood-clogged nose, his hands finally leaving his pockets to hang awkwardly at his sides while he gives a small shrug, “..’was stupid.” He says in lue of a direct answer.
“I'm sure it was,” You grumble under your breath, swallowing your instincts and forcing yourself to take a small step back, your hands falling away so you can hug your arms across your own chest with a sigh, “What're you doing here, Steve?”
“I didn't know where to.. I..” The words don't seem to come and he falters, shrinking in on himself further, “I don't know.” He admits after a moment.
Your eyes close as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you, “I can't-”
“Please,” Steve nearly whispers the word and when you meet his eyes again, his gaze is a little watery, “I know you don't want to see me. I know you're still mad. And.. You have every right to be, okay? But-”
“But what?” You plead weakly, fingers digging a little meanly into your own arms.
“I just..” He struggles for a moment, hands raking through his hair and ruffling it into further disarray, “I just needed.. I..”
The fissure in your heart cracks wide, the slow healing wound tearing open to expose this gaping thing that feels a little like it might be enough to shatter your soul. Even while the more sensible parts of your brain scream at you to shut the door in his face, you find yourself taking his hand in yours, swollen and blood crusted knuckles under your thumb as you pull him into the dark apartment and close the door behind you.
You push him to sit down on the couch, a wordless order for him to stay put implied in the sidelong glance that you shoot him before turning away to move down the hall and grab your first aid kit and a wet cloth from the bathroom. When you return, Steve hasn't moved an inch, just as miserable and small-looking as you'd left him a few moments before. He's got his fingers tucked into the crook of space behind his knees, the tall streetlight across the road allowing stripes of light to cut across his hunched form, late night shadows eating up everything else.
The coffee table is nudged closer to the sofa with your foot as you sit down in front of him, your bare knees brushing filthy denim when you scoot to the edge of the table and bring the cloth up to his blood-spattered cheek. You're gentle with it, wiping at same spots a few times with the lightest pressure you can manage as the mess proceeds to smear, red-tinged streaks of water against his skin lessening with each careful swipe. Once his face is clean, you move on to the knuckles of his right hand, pulling it from where he has it tucked beneath his thigh to softly wash away the crusted blood from his split and bruising skin.
You work silently for a few minutes. The soiled cloth is dropped against the coffee table with a wet slap and you immediately turn to find the alcohol and cotton balls in the messy basket you keep stored beneath your bathroom sink.
You've just begun to open the package of cotton when Steve says your name, nothing more than a hoarse whisper to break the heavy silence.
When you meet his eyes, the desperation you find there has you faltering for a moment. The warmth that seeps into your skin from each point of contact between you suddenly seems so much stronger. Heat and nerves creep up the back of your neck as you blink at him in question.
The backs of his damp knuckles drag up over your calf before pushing into the smooth skin on the outside of your thigh, his thumb pinching lightly at the doughy flesh there, “I.. Can you..” His hand unfurls and he lets his palm settle against you, his fingertips high enough to slip beneath the hem of your oversized shirt and brush the crook where your thigh meets your hip, “I just.. want..”
He seems incapable of finishing his thoughts, but he doesn't really need to because you know. With the way his free hand comes up to push a lock of hair behind your ear, thumb tracing the line of your jaw to your chin before catching against your lower lip in that all too familiar way, you know what it is that he's asking for.
“Steve..” Your accompanying sigh comes out a little shaky as you exhale it over the pad of his finger, your lashes fluttering as something stirs in your gut in response to his soft touch, “I don't think that's a good-”
“Please.” He whispers again — and, how could you possibly deny him when he sounds so pitiful that it wrenches at your broken heart? While his brows are drawing together like he's already bracing himself for your rejection even as his eyes remain soft and pleading?
And when the hand on your thigh pushes up to slide over the bare skin at the base of your spine, when he applies the barest pressure to urge you toward him, when the fingers on your face slip behind your neck — you're climbing into his lap with little encouragement. Your shins push into the couch cushions on either side of his thighs, hands finding the hem of his ruined shirt and guiding it up over his head in an easy movement that has his hair flopping down over his forehead again.
When your gaze drops, you allow yourself all of ten seconds to trail your fingers over the rough scars across his abdomen. The skin is a little puckered and pink, mottled in a way that it probably wouldn't be if he'd found himself at the hospital that night in late March instead of on your doorstep, but they've healed. It's a far cry from the jagged wounds that you'd tried to clean with blood-stained hands, through quiet sobs and glassy eyes. They'd been so deep, as if something had tried to carve out little bits and pieces of him over and over, like something had torn into him, like something had feasted on his flesh then and left behind nothing but the evidence of small, frighteningly sharp teeth.
Your choked questions ring in your ears even now, the way you'd begged for him to tell you what was going on, who kept hurting him like this — but as easily as your own voice echos in your memories, so does Steve's. You can still hear his agonized groans and cries of pain as you'd tended to his injuries, can still remember the sound of his desperate pleas for you to drop it, to just accept that he couldn't explain-
And you'd asked him then, if it was that he couldn't or that he wouldn't. The resulting silence from him had been answer enough.
Now, Steve seems to know exactly where your mind has gone and he covers your hands with his own, pressing your palms flat against the lingering marks on his skin.
“They're healed.” You state quietly through the emotion clogging your throat. The obviousness of the statement rings stupidly in your ears but you're not sure what else to say in the heavy silence.
“Yeah,” Steve agrees, voice hoarse, “I had a pretty good nurse.. Cleaned me up real nice so that I didn't, I dunno, die from an infection or somethin'.”
A laugh pushes up from your throat that borders on a sob, “She sounds cool.” You manage, your thumbnail scraping lightly into the healed patch of skin under your hand.
“Oh, yeah, the coolest.” Steve tells you with the barest hint of a smile pulling at the unbruised side of his mouth. “You okay?” He asks quietly after another moment of silence.
“Yeah. Yeah, 'm fine.” You tell him with a shake of your head.
“Sweetheart..” Steve starts slowly, “I want.. Shit, I- I want you so bad right now, but if you don't want this-” When his hands move to the hem of your sleep shirt, his eyes meet yours in silent question, and your head is nodding a little wildly in approval before you can begin to think too hard about it.
His hands nearly burn with every brush against your bare skin as you strip one another down to nothing, his touch leaving behind invisible streaks of something heavy and terrifyingly melancholy, something that you're sure will linger painfully in your chest long after he's gone and left you with a broken heart and an ever growing list of unanswered questions.
“I still have to clean your cuts.” You tell him quietly.
Steve's eyes only rake over your naked body for a moment before his gaze settles back on yours, “Okay.”
You settle over his lap again and wet a cotton ball with alcohol, “It's gonna hurt.” You warn in a whisper.
“I know.” Steve returns just as softly.
Bracing one hand on the side of his neck, you dab featherlight over his split lip. Steve's jaw clenches at the sting as it seeps into the cut and you murmur a soft apology while you continue to clean the area with careful fingers.
Steve's hands settle on your hips and his eyes flick between yours as he waits for you to meet his gaze. When you look up from his swollen lower lip, he gulps, adam's apple bobbing in his throat.
“Is this okay?” He asks, fingers digging into your flesh a little as he pulls your hips until your groins align nicely.
“Yeah.” You murmur, dabbing at the cut on his lip again just so that you have an excuse to look away from his eyes.
Your heartbeat ricochets against your ribs sharply as Steve guides you to grind slow over his lap, the warmth of him wedged between your spread folds. The way he manhandles you isn't rushed, the movement not nearly as desperate as you'd been expecting from his plea for intimacy. It's slow and quiet and filled with a weight that you wouldn't quite be able to explain if you tried.
It doesn't take long for his cock fatten up and grow stiff underneath you, his length and the patch of hair surrounding it both streaked with slick where your wet cunt has been dragging back and forth. You're both breathing a little heavy as you finish cleaning the cuts on his lip and the bridge of his nose, your faces close though neither one of you make any move to close the distance.
Steve curls an arm around the back of your thigh as he reaches around to guide himself toward your entrance. A breathy sound falls from your lips when you roll your hips back and feel his tip catch, just barely pushing in. He's as thick and warm and perfect as he's always been, and that hunger to have all of him spreads down the back of your tongue like warm honey, but the moment you spread your thighs a little farther to take more, Steve is stopping you.
“Wait, wait, wait. You.. Are you sure you're okay with this?” He asks suddenly. His fingers are digging into your hips, holding you in place to keep you from sinking farther down onto him as he awaits your response.
“Wh-?” Your jaw trembles with something like petulance, a little desperate yourself now that you can feel the fat head of his cock inside you, stretching you wide despite barely breaching your entrance, “You said that you-”
“I do. Fuck, I do, I just want to make sure you're sure.” He says it so soft, so earnest, and his concern has you feeling something resembling whiplash. The two of you haven't spoken in months, but he'd shown up at your front door in the middle of the night and practically begged for you; for your presence and your care and your body.
You want to feel angry with him. For looking out for your well-being now, for being Steve, for bringing up so many feelings that you'd tried so hard to bury, but he's looking up at you with imploring eyes — a gaze that says if you climbed off of his lap now, he wouldn't be upset with you, if anything, he'd be upset with himself and..
It has you reeling a little bit, that blooming affection crawling like rapidly expanding ivy inside your chest.
You brush that stubborn chunk of hair back and off of his forehead again, your fingers combing through to the back of his head until they can toy with the bits curling at the nape of his neck. Your mouth finds its way to the space between his brows, a shaky exhale masked by the kiss you press to his skin before dropping your foreheads together.
“I am. I'm sure.” You promise in a whisper.
When you sink down, both of you groan in synchrony, breathy and guttural. The stretch hurts more than you were expecting, but it's been months since you've done this, so you suppose that the sting from him filling you up is warranted. Your hips settle against his and his arms curl around your back to hold you in place, to hold you close. His chest is flush to yours, scattered hairs on his pecs pressed to your breasts, the tip of your nose still barely avoiding brushing against the bruised bridge of his own.
The sensation of being so full leaves you feeling a little overwhelmed, the intimacy of the moment suddenly too heavy. His breath mingling with your own and his soft hair tangled up around your fingers brings pinpricks of heat to your eyes that you stubbornly attempt to blink back.
“Hey.. Hey, honey,” Steve murmurs softly, one hand coming up to swipe a thumb along your watery lashline, “What's wrong? You okay? You hurting?”
Another strangled sounding scoff of a laugh tumbles from your lips, a weak sniffle as your fingers find their way to those smooth, faded lines along the front of his throat again, “I should be asking you that. You're the one who's had the shit beaten out of him tonight.”
“I'm fine. Two weeks n' I'll be good as new,” Steve assures you with carefully crafted nonchalance, his tear-stained thumb dragging back and forth along the apple of your cheek, “Now what's goin' on in that beautiful head of yours, huh?”
“I just..” You huff out a sigh, rolling your hips experimentally to test the ache between your thighs, “I missed you. Fuck, I- I miss you so much, Steve.”
A few tears do manage to break through then, something about the way the patchy light coming in through the windows casts a glow over his battered face, the browns in his eyes shining golden in the dark.
“Me too, I miss you too,” He rasps desperately, “Shit, honey. If you think I don't miss you every goddamn second- You're everything. You're my everything.”
He's holding your face in both hands now, palms cradling your jaw so gently, arms trembling like he's trying to fight the urge to hold onto you tighter. His restraint and his words twist sharply in your gut, something akin to dread weaving its way inside of you.
“I'm scared,” You admit, voice quiet and buried beneath tears, “I'm so scared-”
“Scared?” Steve repeats, concern flashing in his eyes, “What're you afraid of?”
“Losing you.” You gasp.
“Sweetheart-”
Your chest is heaving a little with the labored breaths beginning to tumble past your lips, “I'm gonna lose you all over again, because I can't.. It- It is terrifying. To see you hurt and bleeding and not know why. To worry that the next time might be even worse than the last and have you keep skirting around the truth or outright lying-”
“Hey, hey. Honey, hey,” Steve gives your cheeks a soft shake under his hands and your gaze falls back to his, “I'm sorry-”
“Jesus christ.” You bemoan quietly as another tear falls, halfheartedly pushing at his arms to dislodge his hands.
“No, no, I mean it,” Steve pleads softly, “I'm so sorry I kept you in the dark, I just- Shit, it's so complicated, I-”
“Asshole.” The interruption comes out a grumble under your breath, and you're gearing up to climb off of his lap entirely when his weak chuckle meets your ears.
“I am,” He nods, brushing your hair back from your tear streaked face, “I'm an asshole and I'm sorry. I- I'll tell you everything, alright? I will. I will.”
“Promise?” You hate yourself for how small you sound, how unsure and broken.
“I promise.”
You crane your neck and tilt your head to brush your lips featherlight over his, carefully avoiding putting any pressure on the mess of purple and black and red along the bridge of his nose, your thumbs gravitating yet again to drag over those smooth, barely visible scars around his neck.
“Does your mouth hurt too much, or can I-?” You ask quietly, eyes flicking between his.
“'course you can,” His hand pushes into your hair behind your ear, cupping your head to guide you forward carefully, “C'mere.”
Your mouths come together with all of the gentleness you can manage and you leave one soft peck, then two, then three. You begin to work your hips over his all the while, and neither of you can hold back a keening noise of pleasure at the slow drag of his cock inside your warm walls.
You ease back from his mouth to drag the pads of your index and middle finger lightly over the bruises coloring his skin.
“Did.. Did you really get into a bar fight?” You can't help but ask, even as you're lifting up and dropping back down hard enough to have you both letting out a breathy whimper.
“Yeah,” Steve nods, his fingers trailing along your ribs and stomach like he's trying to re-familiarize himself with every inch of your skin, “I.. It's possible I have some unresolved anger or something from- After everything that happened. Sometimes it kinda takes over, like tonight, and then I pick a fight I know I can't win, but.. 'm not lying to you anymore. I mean that.”
You nod and his arms curl around your back to pull you impossibly closer. Trapped in his embrace, you can't do much more than grind on him with slow swivels of your hips, the head of his cock rubbing at that spot on your inner wall that has your brows pulling together in pleasure.
He's so close like this. His chest hair drags against your bare breasts and your tummies are pressed together and the sweat on his forehead mingles with your own. You feel warm — in the physical sense, yes, but also in your stomach, in your bones, in your heart.
“I love you.” Steve says with emotion, like he's feels that warmth too.
Your eyes prickle a little traitorously, fingers toying with the soft ends of his hair, “I love you,” You manage in a choked gasp, “I love you.”
“Ho- Shit..” Steve groans, chin tipping up toward the ceiling for a moment as he throws his head back, “You feel so fuckin' good, honey.”
“Y'r cock feels good,” You pant in response, “So good. So big. I- Fuck.”
“So tight,” He mutters, sitting up a little straighter to meet every roll of your hips, “So perfect. 's like you were fucking made for me, you know that? Take me so well. You were made for this, for me-”
The way that your clit is rubbing against the thatch of hair on his pelvis has you a little dumb already, and his lust-fueled rambling only intensifies your budding orgasm, both of your thighs slick with how fucking good it feels to have him inside of you again. You nod in agreement to his words and manage to give a small whimper, but it seems that he's not done yet.
“-Missed this so much. Missed you, missed this.. Fuck. Honey, I love you. I love you. I-”
“Steve,” You whine, “Love you too.”
His tanned cheeks have gone a little pink beneath the dusting of bruises on his face, breathy groans fanning out past his busted lip. The pretty little noises of pleasure that he can't seem to hold back have you reeling, your gut twisting with heat at the sight of him, the sound of him.
“So goddamn wet for me, honey,” Steve grumbles, his voice catching in a way that has your cunt clenching down on him, “Listen to her. You hear that?”
You do. There's a lewd squelch emitting from the place where you're joined, the sound filling the otherwise quiet apartment every time that your hips roll at just the right angle. It happens again just then, his cock stretching your hole wide enough for the drag of slick and air to create a mildly embarrassing noise that has Steve giving another needy groan, his hips bucking up into yours.
“God, fuck, please tell me you're getting close,” He nearly whimpers, lifting up off of the couch to drive up into you again, “Please, I'm getting so close, babe. Need you to come.”
Euphoria licks up your spine in a white-hot flame, your weight bearing down that much harder to apply more pressure on your puffy clit. Sweat trickles down your spine, disappearing beneath Steve's forearms where they're looped tight around you.
“Mhm,” You hum, the sound catching in the back of your throat, “M'gonna come, Stevie. Y'r gonna make me come.”
Your hips roll a little faster and Steve continues to buck up into you, his cock pressing so, so nicely against the spot that has your brain whiting out a bit at the edges.
“Come on, sweet girl. Come for me,” Steve moans, warm breath fanning out over your lips, “Please, honey. Please come on my cock. Shit, I need it. Need you t' come, please.”
“I am, I am, I am,” You babble desperately, “M'gonna, fuck, fuck, 'm-”
The knot of pleasure in your gut twists sharply and you cry out, face burying in his neck with a whiny gasp as your orgasm crashes over you. Your cunt tightens and trembles around him and a deliciously choked sounding moan tears past Steve's lips as he finally lets his own release wash over him.
The warmth of his come coating your insides has you fluttering around him further, your hands grappling restlessly for any part of him to hold on to, his hair, the back of his neck, his shoulders, his biceps. Breathy little whines and gasps and groans tumble from both of you as you ride it out, the trembling tenseness in your muscles releasing all at once as you go limp in his arms.
It takes a minute, but you eventually come back to yourself a little, peppering a delicate kiss to that infuriating strip of scar tissue along his throat before you're pushing up with weak limbs to look at the man underneath you.
“Hey.” It comes out in a murmur, a breathless little thing that leaves you feeling kind of silly, but your brain hasn't yet recovered enough to work at its full-capacity.
Steve only grins, his lips curling to reveal perfect teeth, a pretty smile pulling at his busted and bruising lips. His eyes twinkle in the patchy darkness of your living room, a pretty mosaic of brown and gold and speckles of green catching in the light and forcing your heart rate to tick up in adoration.
“Hey, honey.” He returns sweetly, one arm uplooping from around your spine so he can reach up to push the sweaty flyaways back from your face.
You can't help but shift over him, sore legs flexing where they're spread over his hairy thighs, a trickle of warmth leaking out from where you're still joined and dripping down into the thick hair at the base of his cock. It feels dirty and intimate in the best way — his come mingled with your own, your fingers in his sweat-dampened hair, his wide palms rubbing softly from your hips to your spine and then back again.
“I kinda want to stay like this forever.”
Your whispered admission has his eyes crinkling softly and he drops his forehead to your chest, his breath fanning out over your breasts as he lets out a breathy chuckle.
“You won't hear any complaints from me.” Steve mumbles into your skin.
You never want to leave this moment. Your nose pushes into his hair and you pull in the familiar melding of scents, of expensive shampoo and hairspray and an underlying smell that's just Steve. You want to stay right here, in this perfectly imperfect bubble, but you feel Steve wince when he burrows his face into your chest just a little too hard and the serenity cracks.
“Steve?” You murmur softly, fingertips scraping gently against his scalp despite the nerves in your stomach.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
You steel yourself with a deep breath, “You know I'd do anything to protect you, right? You.. You know that I'll do anything for you.. Know that.. That you can trust me?” It comes out in a rush, and your nerves increase tenfold when Steve pulls back to look at you, “..Right?”
“Honey,” The endearment comes out laced with something sweet and sticky that makes it sound an awful lot like an apology, “Of course I do.”
His eyes are so soft as they flick between your own, his hands smoothing up the length of your spine in a soothing drag of skin on skin. One hand leaves his hair only so that you can trace your thumb over those two wide freckles on the apple of his cheek, a self-deprecating sort of smile pulling at your lips.
“And.. And you're gonna tell me what's been going on with you?” You nearly whisper.
His mouth finds yours to press a featherlight kiss to your lips, “Yeah, honey. No more secrets. No more lies.”
“Promise?” You ask again, lips pulling into a smile where they're still brushing his own. Your faces are so close it's hard to focus on the way his eyes shine with adoration when he looks up at you, the bruises on the bridge of his nose blurring in the darkness.
“Promise.”
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maroon-cardigan · 4 months
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THE LUCKY ONES | steve harrington x fem!reader
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summary: every december you try to forget what happened in christmas 1976, when your parents didn’t show up to pick you up from boarding school and you had to spend the holidays at the harrington’s. steve and you were too young back then to understand the curse that ran through your veins, but eight years later, temptation knocks on your door, and you find yourself fucking the one guy you would’ve never fucked.
oldmoney!steve x oldmoney!reader | enemies with benefits | no use of y/n | no mentions of specific race, hair type of body type.
word count: 23.5k
warnings: this one shot and my blog are +18, minors do not interact. NSFW. christmas angsty smut, basically. mentions of alcoholism & miscarriage, reader and steve got family issues but there’s no violence. hate fucking, kinda mean!steve but also mean!reader (i love a balanced dynamic). public sex. fingering, finger licking, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving). use of good girl, spoiled brat, etc. but no degradation.
author’s note: hello ♡ this one shot is my favourite thing i’ve written for this blog so far, and I’m so proud of it !!! this is shamelessly inspired on gossip girl & sooo lana del rey coded. please forgive my basic understanding of american geography. this is a repost, because i had some problems with the tags, so i tagged everyone who interacted with the first post at the end.
masterlist
[dividers by @benkeibear & @cafekitsune]
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THE LUCKY ONES ♡
People did this kind of thing when they were drunk. Or high. Or worse, people did this kind of thing when they were needy. Not you, though. Never you.
That’s what you thought after the first time you had sex with Steve, wondering what had taken you to fuck the one guy you’d never fuck. Because you couldn’t stand Steve Harrington, and he couldn’t stand you. Yet it seemed like that mutual aversion was what kept you two orbiting around each other after all these years, until the inevitable collision happened.
There was a time where things were different, though. When you were a kid, you almost became Steve Harrington’s friend. You would even dare to say, he was your friend once, the year you had the loneliest Christmas of your life.
DECEMBER 1976.
You had been looking at your shoes for the last couple of hours. Shiny little loafers that your mom got you on your last trip to New York. The Sales Assistant that helped you had smiled at you as you put them on.
‘Every girl, no matter how young or old, deserves some Prada.’ She said.
You smiled back while standing up on your little feet. You walked a straight line, feeling the eyes of your mother on you before you looked back and made an exaggerated pose, making her laugh.
‘I’ll take those as well.’ She said to the girl behind the counter.
On the way out she let you carry the bag with the shoebox inside. She lent you her sunglasses, shiny and black sitting on the top of your little head between your pigtails. In the taxi, you fell asleep on top of her fluffy red coat that smelled like her. It was a good trip.
That’s how you knew something was wrong. Your parents would never forget you at school, specially not on Christmas Eve. The housemistress had helped you pack the day before knowing that your mom would pick you up in the morning. But it was almost noon, and you were still at the dinner hall, sitting all alone waiting for her.
You looked up at the lovely lights of the chandelier above you, short legs hanging from the bench you were sitting on and sight blurry as you convinced yourself that they had abandoned you, and now you’d be spending Christmas with the kids whose parents were too busy working to care about them. That wasn’t you. That had never been you.
The clicking of a pair of heels caught your attention then. A tall, lovely woman of feathered hair wearing a red suit smiled at you. She was beautiful. She was kind. She made you feel safe.
‘Hello, Mrs. Harrington.’ You said standing up. You weren’t going to cry in front of your parents’ friend, that would’ve been impolite.
‘There you are, sweet thing.’ She said opening her arms when she stood in front of you. You took a few hesitant steps towards her before she embraced you in a hug. Blinking many times and impressed at her warmth, you inhaled her sweet perfume.
Only then you saw him next to her. A little polo under a sweater, hands in his pockets, black hair almost reaching his shoulders. You couldn’t help but blush.
‘Your parents asked me to come pick you up.’ She said breaking the hug. Her warm eyes looked back at you as she stood, leaning to be at the same eye level as you. Her fingers brushed your bangs, removing the hair off your face. ‘You’re spending Christmas with us.’
You knew something was wrong, but you thought it wouldn’t be polite to ask Mrs. Harrington what it was. You walked in your little loafers looking around the Harrington’s house, observing the green and red decorations.
The mansion filled you with a strange sense of sadness, the living room you stood in too similar to the one you wished you were in. You missed home, the voices of the staff saying hello miss whenever you walked in, everyone ready to hug you. There was nothing like that here.
‘I don’t have any dolls.’ You heard him say behind you. You turned around to find Steve with a basket full of toys. ‘But I’ve got dinosaurs.’
You looked at the basket before looking back at him, and he almost got scared at the line that adorned your lips. Steve thought sometimes being with you was like being with the adults. He had hoped that the toys might change your mood.
‘I like dinosaurs.’ You said quietly, sitting on the rug as he imitated you.
‘…Haven’t really spoken to her since then.’ You heard someone murmur.
Steve was making explosion noises next to you, two toys on each hand as he played, and you tried to hear what Mrs. Harrington was saying. From where you were, you could only see her heels, legs crossed as the back of the armchair she was sitting on faced you, and the telephone cord being wrapped and unwrapped by her manicured hand.
‘No. Of course not. She deserves a lovely Christmas.’ She said. ‘Only ten years old, can you imagine? She’s just a baby.’
You frowned at the words of Steve’s mother; certain that she was talking about you.
‘Are you ok–’ You put a hand on his mouth, placing your index finger over yours. Steve simply nodded, the contact of your hand on his skin making his cheeks hot.
Mrs. Harrington sighed.
‘I don’t know. I think he made the decision. And good for him, but he didn’t tell her anything. He just left her a note saying he was leaving her to go to rehab. She’s dealing with the press now.’
You stood up then, walking to the other side of the armchair to face her. Mrs. Harrington jumped at the sight of your little frame; eyes too young to be hiding such darkness behind them.
‘Oh, sweetie!’ She said. ‘K-Karen, I’ll call you later, okay? Or I’ll see you tomorrow either way. Y-Yes. Yes, see you later.’
She hung the phone and gave you a reassuring smile, but you could see the way her shoulders moved up and down as she breathed, nervous by the sudden interruption.
‘Are my parents getting a divorce?’ You said.
She had to blink a couple of times before standing up, swallowing hard and rubbing her hands against her lap as she stood in front of you.
‘Stevie.’ She put her hands on your shoulders to walk you back to where Steve was playing. Her skin was freezing. ‘Can you prepare a bath for our little guest? Just how I taught you, please. I’m sure she’s had a long day, haven’t you, sweetie?’
You looked up at her behind you. Calm smile, beautiful face and sweet perfume. You couldn’t help but notice what a tense woman Mrs. Harrington was.
You were leaning against the frame of the bathroom’s door as Steve emptied a bottle of a pink liquid in the bathtub.
‘This is my favorite one.’ He said. ‘It’s got stars in it.’
That interested you, lifting your head subtly to look at the shiny bubbles growing at the bottom of the tub, little glittery stars mixing with the water.
‘That’s cool.’
Steve’s eyes lit up at your comment, smiling at you. You had forgotten how cute he was, looking at the way he had to roll the bottom of his jeans because they were too big for him.
You closed the lid of the toilet to sit on top of it, looking at the way the iridescent bubbles started to rise, and the water turned pink. You could feel his eyes on you as you placed your chin on your hands, just like you would if a teacher asked you a question you didn’t know the answer for. You were thinking about your mom, wanting to hear her voice and wondering if Mrs. Harrington would let you call her.
Steve remembered something then. He walked out of the toilet, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a few minutes while the sound of the water running filled the silence.
‘I got you these.’
He walked inside the toilet again, a pink towel on one hand and a teddy bear on the other. You smiled, realising how bad you missed your own toys back at home, wondering if they’d miss you too.
You grabbed the teddy bear first, a patchwork pink thing you hugged hard against your ribs. Steve observed you, leaving the towel on the little step next to the bathtub, black strands of hair falling on his forehead. You thought he looked like one of those boys on the covers of your mom’s music records.
‘Why do you have girl stuff?’ You asked then.
Steve shrugged. ‘It was for my sisters. Mom says she lost them, but I’m not really sure how you can lose a kid.’ There was a silence between you two as you both frowned. ‘No one uses them.’
‘Maybe my parents lost me and that’s why I’m here. With you.’ You said.
‘Maybe.’
When the water almost reached the top of the bathtub and the pink bubbles were like a giant mountain of foam, Steve closed the tap. You waited until you heard the noise of his steps walking down the stairs to lock the door, take your clothes off and get inside.
You hugged your knees inside the pink pool of bubbles, pulse slowing down and muscles relaxing. And for the first time in that strange day, you felt really safe. Cared for. Important.
You walked out wearing your pink pyjamas, it wasn’t until you put them on that you remembered that tomorrow was Christmas day. The hallway was silent in a scary way, long and big in a house you didn’t know very well.
‘Steve?’ You whispered. But there was no answer. No sound.
Except for one subtle thing.
The room was dark when you stood outside of it. The texture of the carpet warm under your bare feet as you pushed the door slightly.
She was on the other side.
Mrs. Harrington still looked beautiful with her mascara running down her cheeks, and her eyes lost on the flames of the fireplace. She took the bottle to her lips, eyes closed, and shoulders relaxed as she swallowed. You knew what the liquid in it smelled like, because you had smelled it on your dad’s breath too many times before.
You didn’t remember who took you to bed, but you slept next to Steve that night. What you did remember were his rocket pyjamas, and the way he moved next to you all night because he was too excited about the presents under the tree.
You remembered how he said your name when he woke you up the next day and the excitement on your chest as he did, heart beating fast against your ribs. He didn’t have any siblings, neither did you. This was the closest thing to it that you both had ever experienced.
You remembered how every present you had asked Santa for was under the tree. And you remembered Mrs. Harrington’s eyes on you as you opened them while her husband sat next to her. Mascara in place and feathered hair framing her beautiful face. She was smiling.
A car came to pick you up on the day after Christmas. Steve would never forget the relief in your face when his mom announced you were going home from the living room, and the disappointment he felt. He didn’t forget your little hand waving at him from the backseat of the black vehicle as the snow fell outside the house. Or your pretty smile as you wore the outfit his mom had picked for you that morning. He would never forget the way her eyes lit up as she brushed your hair in front of her vanity mirror while he sat down on his parents’ bed. She looked happy.
You had made their Christmas better. And Steve knew then what he had to do to keep his mom as happy as she was when you were here.
He had to ask for a sister.
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You could’ve been friends after that, right? Maybe. Or maybe not.
You were taken back to an empty house. In the next weeks you spent all day surrounded by the staff that took care of the house. By the time you understood what was happening you had to pack your things and go back to school.
Your dad had gone to rehab while your mother had to handle it all by herself: the press trying to destroy him, and the multi-millionaire business generations of your family had worked on. The investors. Your grandmother blaming it all on her. She did it all looking as glamourous as always, and you didn’t know this by the letters she sent you, but by the pictures of her you saw on the newspapers and magazines while she travelled, and you stayed at school. Alone. All of that just so she would divorce him right after he went out.
You grew up in a public mess. But you weren’t the only one. Stevie turned into Steve, a boy who ignored you on the first week of January 1977. He came back with an arrogant frown on his face and a loneliness in his eyes that you had only seen on grownups.
Sometimes you spotted him in between the mess of uniforms in the campus, but you were growing up now, and girls like you didn’t beg anyone to be friends with them. So, you forgot him. And in your absence Steve turned into King Steve, son of Roger and Martha Harrington, descendant of a long line of successful and renowned corporate lawyers in the country. Known by his popularity, his wild parties and his inability to keep his dick in his pants.
So, people changed. Sometimes for the worse, like Steve. Sometimes for the better, like your dad.
That didn’t mean you were exempt from catastrophe. Sometimes people screwed up. You, more than anyone, knew that when temptation knocked on the door, you and Steve were prone to welcome it. It ran in your blood anyways.
It all started the last Friday of November.
26 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
Parent conferences never made you nervous. Not because of your grades, but because it was more about the parents than the kids. You knew your mother would have a little chat with your teacher, go to the dinner hall to have a couple of drinks with some of your friends’ mothers and later in the evening knock on your door to ask you if you wanted to spend the weekend at hers. Easy.
That’s why you froze on the spot when you walked inside the classroom to find your dad sitting on one of the desks, talking to Robin Buckley’s mom. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw you standing with your lips opened in surprise. Something hit you on the shoulder, making you blink many times before you saw Steve Harrington’s silhouette walk past you, not even looking behind after hitting you.
You took a deep breath before making you way to the desk he sat on.
‘Dad.’ You tried to sound happy, hands playing with the sleeves of your uniform’s sweater as you stood in front of him. He smiled back at you. ‘What are you doing here?’
The way your question made his eyes drop broke your heart.
‘Your mom called me from Paris. Her flight’s delayed.’ He took a deep breath as he studied you with his eyes. ‘She doesn’t know I’m here. Told me to send her assistant.’
You bit your lip hiding your smile. ‘Carmen.’
He rolled his eyes at the sound of her name. ‘Can you fucking believe that?’
You laughed loudly, sitting next to him on the desk. Only then you realised there was a bouquet of roses on the sit behind you. ‘Are those for me?’
‘Of course, flower.’ He said smiling.
You couldn’t help but smile widely, wrapping an arm around his and placing your head on his shoulder.
It was good for both of you. You stayed quiet the whole meeting, sitting on the seat next to his as your teacher talked to him. You placed your chin on your hand when his eyebrows lifted at the sight of your grades from the first semester, trying to hide your smile.
On the way to the dinner hall, he asked you a few questions about how things were going. You hadn’t seen him in about a month, before he flew to Hong Kong for business, so there was not a lot to talk about except Thanksgiving and what books you were currently reading. You missed him a lot.
It didn’t surprise you that people observed you when you walked inside the hall. Whispers behind fizzy glasses and looks of pity while you kept chatting with your dad. Outside the borders of the elite, he was on the front of every single business magazine, but here he seemed to always be regarded as the man who abandoned his family on Christmas day. Not like that mattered when they needed favours from him, though. But you had to learn diplomacy the hard way, by getting along with everyone but friendly with almost no one.
Everyone except one person.
Steve sat quietly on a chair on the other side of the room, while his dad stood up next to him. He was scolding him, you imagined, by the way he sat with his arms crossed on his chest, nodding slightly every now and then as his father spoke. The sleeves of his uniform’s sweater were rolled up on his elbows and his brown gaze lost on the wooden floor.
Mr. Harrington’s eyes lit up as soon as your dad nodded at him, the atmosphere changing instantly at the sight of you two. You smiled too, but the gesture fell from your face when you saw the crystal glass with the brown liquid on his hand. You took a deep breath as you followed your dad, hands on your lap as you ached to squeeze his arm and ask him to leave early.
‘So good to see you here.’ Said Mr. Harrington patting your dad’s shoulder. ‘Though I’m sure there’s nothing you should worry about with this one. I’ve heard she’s doing great.’
You smiled politely, ignoring the way Steve rolled his eyes at his father’s flattery. He looked at you from where he was then, eyes lingering on the way you scratched the back of your knee sock with your shoe in nervousness, the hem of your uniform skirt lifting a little bit with the movement.
‘She is, actually. I’m very proud.’
The words made him look up at you then, your face going from tense to soft at your father’s words. Shy smile adorning your face, a subtle thing none of them noticed. He almost said something sarcastic, but his father was quicker at replying.
‘Maybe you could help Steve the next semester?’ He joked. ‘He could do with a good influence.’
You were about to answer something harmless, when Steve let out a scoff, a bitter laugh that made you look back at him. He lifted his eyebrows then, inviting you to say something, when Mr. Wheeler joined in, a glass of whiskey on his hand too, greeting your dad with a pat on his back.
Your father smiled at him, and the three of them started talking while you slowly became invisible. You walked back, flattening your skirt before sitting down next to Steve, ignoring him in silence as you witnessed the conversation in front of you, feeling the anxiety rising on your chest.
You heard words about business, finance, and stocks, but your eyes just lingered on the liquor glasses and how empty they became with the passing of minutes. You observed your dad’s attentive nods and wondered what he was thinking about, if he could smell the alcohol from where he was. He was throwing his head back while laughing, he was making jokes. He seemed happy.
That couldn’t be good.
‘You sure got that good girl act together, don’t you?’
You turned your face to Steve momentarily, distracted by the way your dad’s voice had turned louder. ‘What?’
He studied your face before looking away, licking his lips.
‘I said your daddy comes here and suddenly you’re playing the part of the perfect daughter. Good influence my ass.’  
You frowned at his words, eyeing him with disdain before looking back at your dad.
‘Well, I’m sorry I’m not like you, Harrington. Publicly fucking around with everyone. I bet your dad must be very proud of your voyeuristic tendencies.’
‘You’re one to talk, pool girl.’ He said under his breath.
You scoffed, shaking your head. Your eyes were still fixed on the conversation in front of you, the way your dad seemed to fit in perfectly in the cheerful environment, talking with his hands and laughing loudly with Mr. Harrington and Mr. Wheeler. Your stomach twisted, the discussion with Steve making you even more irritated.
‘I have no idea what Jason told you, but sucking dick is hardly a crime when you compare it to being found out in the school’s rooftop. Do you think I don’t notice the way you’re avoiding Mr. Wheeler’s eyes right now?’
‘Nancy was my girlfriend.’ He said feeling the heat rising to his cheeks. Something about the way your eyes refused to meet his made him even more annoyed, he wasn’t used to be ignored.
You were still looking at your dad when you leaned into your side, whispering the words that you knew would shut him up.
‘Yeah. Until she got bored of you.’
It all happened so fast. You saw the way the waitress approached them, holding the tray so Mr. Wheeler and Mr. Harrington would leave their empty glasses on them, a set of three refilled ones waiting for the gentlemen’s hands to grab them.
You saw it before it happened because you knew him. Because you had witnessed this same scene many times before. When your dad’s fingers brushed the glass of whiskey, you felt Steve’s irritated sigh stroking your cheek. You lifted your eyes then, meeting his brown stare full of hatred, cheeks flushed by your provoking words. And you had no other option than to lean in.
It was a silly thing, really. Lips crashing on his in front of everyone in the dinner hall for just a few seconds. You heard the gasps, the whispers, and your name falling from your dad’s mouth, making you break the kiss.
Steve’s eyes still lingered on your face though, cheeks and neck getting even hotter by the unexpected kiss, tasting your strawberry gloss and missing the feeling of your mouth against his. His eyes followed you, confused and lost as you stood up, your dad’s hand wrapping on your shoulder while you tried to hide your smile.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said to you. He wasn’t mad, not really, silly giggles leaving his mouth as you let out a snorty laugh while you left the dinner hall together.
You knew that on Monday morning you’d be called into the principal’s office by your improper behavior. You knew by then your mother would be back in the country and you’d had to find an excuse to explain why you kissed Steve in front of everyone. But none of that mattered, really. Your dad was sober and amused at your mischievousness. He’d ask you to spend the weekend at his after not seeing him for a month. He’d take you to play golf and have milkshakes. He’d watch The Apartment with you for the thousandth time.
Fuck Steve.
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25 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
Disaster knocked on the door at the Harringtons’ annual charity party. Steve saw you walking through the doors of his parents’ mansion with your hand wrapped around your dad’s arm. You were wearing a velvet red dress, and a matching bow on your hair. A little present wrapped just for him on the first day of December.
He still wondered what it all had meant, why you kissed him in the middle of one of your stupid arguments. What had been different that time. He had spent all Saturday morning wondering if he should call you, but he thought that was ridiculous. You had kissed him, and he was honest when he said he really hated that good girl act you played in front of everyone’s parents.
You didn’t notice his eyes on you as a waiter offered you a couple of glasses of champagne and you politely declined with a smile, squeezing your dad’s arm. The Hargroves greeted you two then, and you unfolded your arms from your father’s, interlacing your hands on your back.
Steve knew you didn’t drink, an implicit promise you and your dad made to each other, and he had kept even after all these years. He understood that. But everything else seemed unnecessary. The grades, the manners, the networking abilities his dad’s interns could only dream of having. It wasn’t real. Nothing about you was real.
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes as he saw you laugh at something Billy Hargrove said. You looked around the crowded room then, a few couples dancing in the middle of it to the jazz music playing in the background. Your gaze found his from where you were, eyebrows arching and eyes turning soft. Steve frowned at your reaction before he realised that what you were actually looking at was behind him.
He looked behind his shoulder to find his mom laughing loudly next to Joyce Byers, a glass of whiskey on her hand. The image filled him with a strange feeling. A knife twisting on his stomach.
‘Steve! How are you?’ The voice of your father made him turn his face back.
‘I’m doing good, sir.’ He smiled at him, avoiding addressing you directly. ‘How are you?’
You were standing a few steps behind them, eyes stealing glances at his mother whenever she laughed, biting your lip, and feeling your shoulders tense. The truth was you would always care about Mrs. Harrington. You had never told anyone what you saw that Christmas Eve in that dark room. Not your parents. None of your friends. And definitely not Steve.
‘Are you okay, honey?’ You lifted your eyes to find Mr. Harrington in front of you. Steve and your father were looking at you, expecting a response to a question you hadn’t heard.
‘I’m sorry.’ You said blinking, heat rushing to your cheeks. ‘I’m good. How are you, Mr. Harrington? I love the decorations this year.’
Steve fought the need to roll his eyes at you.
‘Thank you, dear.’ He smiled then, putting his hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘I’m good. Was hoping Steve could take you to the dancefloor so I can steal your father for a couple of minutes. I’ve got an important conversation and a new mini golf set in my studio.’
Steve held his breath. Ever since you had kissed him his dad was convincedhe had to shoot his shot. She’s a nice girl, Steve, he said. He knew you were not. He observed the way you smiled politely, arms still behind your back while you licked your lips.
‘Actually, my heels are new, and I don’t really feel like getting stepped on, but if you must steal my dad, please do so. He hasn’t won a mini golf match in a while and I’m sure he could do with the ego boost.’
Only your dad and Mr. Harrington laughed loudly at your cheekiness.
‘Your daughter would be a good lawyer, you know that?’ Said Steve’s dad as he put a hand on your dad’s shoulder and guided him on the direction of his studio.
You bit the inner skin of your cheek. It hadn’t been that funny, but you were bored and wouldn’t miss an opportunity to provoke Steve. Your eyes followed the silhouettes of the two men for a few seconds, wondering if your dad would be tempted tonight like he was on Friday.
‘I can’t believe you.’
His voice made you look back at him. You eyed him in his black suit, hair on its place for once, his cedarwood perfume invading your lungs even if you didn’t want it to.
‘What?’
His eyes looked up and down at you while he put his hands on his pockets, making you feel suddenly self-conscious.
‘Nothing. It’s just fun seeing you pretend you’re not as fake as everyone in this room.’
You took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Fake how, Steve?’
He licked his lips then, taking a step towards you as he spoke. From this distance you could see the way his brown piercing eyes craved to provoke you, a single strand of hair falling in the middle of his forehead.
‘Laughing at Hargrove’s jokes knowing your daddy wants a deal to acquire thirty percent of his father’s company. Wearin’ a Karen Wheeler dress so she agrees to design the costumes of your mom’s next movie. Teasing my dad to get him to accept the business offer your dad must be talking about right now.’ He made a pause then, warm breath sending shivers through your body. ‘You think I don’t notice?’
You took your time then. He stood still when your hand found his tie, getting closer so your mouth could whisper to his ear.
‘So, you pay attention to what I do. Sounds like a fixable problem between your dick and your hand, Harrington.’
You moved to take a step back, but Steve put a firm hand on your waist, taking the hand resting on his chest in his and before you could blink, you two were swinging to the Billie Holiday song playing in the background.
‘You sure as hell know how to use that pretty mouth, don’t you?’ His voice had turned lower then. His words were full of arrogance, but his thumb brushed softly against the uncovered skin of your back.
You held your breath at his words, cedarwood scent getting stronger, skin full of goosebumps by his touch.
‘You tell me.’ You said. ‘Seems like you’ve been thinking a lot about my mouth since Friday. Are you really that easy? I don’t even remember using my tongue.’ You lowered your voice even more, lips brushing against his earlobe as you spoke. ‘And I’ve been told I’m pretty good at using it.’
Steve swallowed hard at your words, wondering if there was an implied proposition behind them. You didn’t know why you were teasing him; the kiss had just been the quickest way of keeping your dad from reaching that glass. But seeing him on this suit and letting him hold you against his body had you wondering if that had been the only reason.
Maybe it was the way he pushed you closer to his body, or how he sighed deeply against your skin while your eyes fixed on Mrs. Harrington over his shoulder, grabbing another glass from a tray and dropping the empty one she had on her hand. Maybe it was the fact you were still fond of her, or maybe for some strange reason, you wanted to save Steve from the embarrassment of seeing his mother like this.
So, before the glass could reach the floor, you started walking out of the room. Fingers subtly brushing his, so he’d get the hint to follow you. He heard the sound of glass shattering behind him, some exclamations, a familiar voice saying sorrysorrysorry. But none of that mattered.
As soon as you walked into the hallway, his hand wrapped around your arm, pushing you against the wooden wall next to the door, dim lights illuminating your profile. Steve’s brown eyes stayed on yours as his hand found your chin, silence filling the tense air between you two. He had pushed you so unexpectedly that one of the strips of your dress had fallen off your shoulder. His gaze followed the line of your collarbones before looking back at you, thumb pushing lightly so your mouth would open for him.
He made you breath him in first, noses brushing and lips ghosting as he pushed his body against yours. You couldn’t help but arch your eyebrows at the feeling of his hardened dick against your thigh, the realisation falling on your innocent eyes, a soft gasp leaving your lips. It killed him.
He leaned in then. Lips full of hatred but tongue aching to taste you as his thumb opened that sweet mouth of yours. His hand fell on your chest then, stroking your breast over the velvety fabric before making its way down to your leg. He briefly wondered why you smiled under his lips, until his hand found the lace of your black stockings and garter belt under your dress.
‘Fuck.’ He whispered desperately, the adrenaline of potentially getting caught running through his veins. ‘Let me see you, I wanna see you.’
His forehead rested against your temple as he looked down while his hand lifted the skirt of your dress, taking in the beautiful view of your boobs pushed up and the little black thong you were wearing that night. ‘Shit. Look at you, all dressed up to be fucked.’
You rolled your eyes, tilting your head subtly enough so your noses were brushing. ‘You don’t have to be so obscene about it, Harrington.’
His breathy laugh stroked your lips as his fingers wandered under your skirt.
‘I’ll tell you what’s obscene, princess.’ You couldn’t help but lift your chin when his thick fingers ventured under the lace of your underwear, three fingers stroking your soaked folds. ‘How fuckin’ wet this pretty pussy is for me. Now that is obscene.’
You could only close your eyes and let out a deep breath when he started fingering you, the reasons why you were here on the first place long forgotten. You let out a soft moan as the sounds of his fingers going in and out of you filled the hallway.
‘D’you hear that? Huh?’ His lips sucked the skin of the curve of your neck. ‘Bet you can get even wetter for me, can’t you?’
‘Steve.’ Your intention was to sound irritated at how cocky he was being, but it came out as a sweet moan, his fingers had found that spot inside your walls and you couldn’t help but tighten them in response.
‘Hmm, yes you can. I can feel it. Soakin’ wet on my hand.’ He was leaving kisses on your collarbones now, moving to the other side of your head so he could whisper to your ear. ‘I should leave you like this. A soakin’ mess, walkin’ ‘round my house with your pussy wet. Spoiled little brat. Shouldn’t even make you cum.’
You opened your eyes at his words, taking a manicured hand to his jaw so he could face you. You started moving your hips slowly as he kept fingering you, heavy eyelids over needy brown eyes looking back at you.
‘Fuck you, Harrington.’ The hand on his jaw moved to the back of his neck pushing his face towards you. ‘We both know you wanna make me cum so badly.’
He looked at you for a few seconds as his nose pushed against your cheek and his opened mouth sighed over yours. His digits kept going in and out of your pussy as he got impossibly closer to your body.
‘Want you to ask me.’ He admitted then.
‘Not fucking happening.’
‘C’mon, you little brat.’ His voice turned deeper as his thumb started to stroke your clit, his own hardness throbbing under his pants. You bit your lip to hold the moan that begged to leave your mouth. ‘Look at you, all whiny just for me. I know you can say it.’ You shook your head repetitively then, and he moved to look at you. ‘No? Why? Not used to ask for things, are we? That’s fine. I can teach you.’
What happened next was decisive in the events that unfolded in the next few weeks.
When he took his fingers out of you, you let out a breath of relief, thinking that you had somehow preserved some of your dignity in your little slip with Steve Harrington. What you didn’t really expect was seeing him get on his knees in front of you, your hands instinctively finding the brown locks of his hair when his mouth came in contact with your sensitive cunt.
‘F-Fuck.’ It was a whispery high-pitched thing, leaving your mouth as you pushed your back against the wall and his hands firmly squeezed your thighs to keep you obscenely open for him.
His flat tongue rubbed against your clit, and this time it was you who had to lift your dress to have a better look at the sight in front of you. Dark eyes and mouth hungrily eating you out while you looked down with your pretty pure stare and your eyebrows arched, innocent agony on your face.
‘That’s it.’ He whispered against your pussy when you started grinding against his tongue, hands gripping at his hair, words choked by his lips on yours. ‘That’s it.’
‘Steve.’ You whispered, knowing that you were losing. The other strip of your dress had fallen on your shoulder too, the subtle shade of your nipple peeking through the top of your dress, goosebumps all over your chest by how turned on you were.
‘Hmm?’ He kept licking you, sloppily and loudly.
Steve inserted two fingers inside you before start kissing up your pelvis and stomach, while your fingers still played with his hair.
‘Are you ready to be fucked?’ He said in between pecks to your skin. ‘Huh? Ready to ask for it?’
You licked your lips, hesitating. Your silence made him look up at you, and you subtly nodded. He didn’t stand up just yet, taking his time to pull your dress and underwear down your body, releasing your braless chest for him. You should’ve felt exposed as he helped you step out of the velvet piece of clothing, naked in a hallway where anyone could’ve seen you two. But the sight of Steve kneeling in front of you made you feel something worse than vulnerability; it made you feel powerful.
‘What do you want, huh?’ He buried his head in you once again, leaving a wet kiss on your pussy. ‘Tell me.’
‘Steve.’
‘Don’t you get fucking bratty on me, now.’ He said licking the space in between your leg and your lip. ‘Look how wet you are. You want to be fucked so badly it’s fucking embarrassing.’
You let out a breathy laugh then, looking down at him. His chin was over your belly button now, as your fingers played with his hair, taking it off his face before they traced a line from his cheekbone to his lips, shiny with your wetness. He softly pressed a kiss on them, a subtle thing that made the cheekiness on his eyes die down and your smile turn into a line.
What the fuck were you doing?
A distant noise made you lift your head, arms instinctively crossing over your body and your cheeks turning hot with anticipated embarrassment. Steve took your dress quickly, before taking your hand and leading you into the nearest room, closing the door behind him.
‘Stev–’ He didn’t let you finish, lips back on yours and hands undoing his belt with desperation as he led you to the bed. He was tired of begging you.
‘Lay down.’ He said unbuttoning his shirt. You did as he said, looking at the thin gold chain that hung from his now uncovered chest. Somehow the adrenaline from it all was making you dumb. ‘Uh-uh. On your front.’
You blinked many times at the way he felt so entitled to command you, not sure if you were going to give him the pleasure to. He removed his boxers then, but you refused to look at his dick. You refused to acknowledge how badly you wanted him to fuck you.
‘I don’t–’
‘Can you just fucking do as you’re told?’
His hands found your hips, effortlessly moving them you so you’d be laying on your front. One of his hands made his way to your pelvis between the bed and your skin, reaching your now swollen clit while you felt his hardness against your thigh. He started drawing circles on your bud then, his forehead resting against your neck as you gasped at the sudden stimulus.
‘See?’ He murmured, ‘Just wanna make you feel good. Are you gonna let me make you feel good, now?’
‘Uh-uh.’ You whispered; eyes shut at the pleasure overtaking your body. You had been teased for too long.
‘Let me see you.’
You looked back behind your shoulder, hair messy, lips swollen, and cheeks flushed. His eyes studied yours for a few seconds, the silent realisation of what you were doing falling in between you two. He positioned himself on your entrance then, both of you holding your breaths as his dick slowly stretched you out.
Steve shut his eyes and released a choked sigh, forehead resting against your temple once his dick was deeply buried inside you.
‘So fuckin’ tight.’ He whispered as he started to fuck you, hips crashing against your ass, slow but firm. ‘So fuckin’ tight for me.’
You were quiet on the way back to your dad’s, lost in your thoughts as you looked through the car’s window, uncertain darkness behind it. People did this kind of thing when they were in need of dazzling euphoria. They did this kind of thing when they craved for blissful intoxication. Not you, though. Never you. Until now.
‘Are you okay, flower?’ He asked, making you lose your train of thought.
‘Yes, daddy.’ You said smiling softly.
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22 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
On Monday you were called into the principal’s office. You knew you’d find him sitting on the chair in front of Mrs. Halter, legs carelessly open and sweater rolled up to his elbows. What you didn’t expect was finding Mrs. Harrington sitting next to him.
‘Hello.’ You murmured.
She was sitting on the chair next to him, looking behind her shoulder and smiling at you.
‘Hey, sweetie.’
‘Hello, Mrs. Harrington.’ You murmured as you walked in, looking at the principal. ‘I’m sorry about my mother, Mrs. Halter. She landed in New York last night, but her flight has been delayed again.’
You didn’t look at Steve as you sat down on the chair on the other side of him, leaving him in the middle between his mother and you.
The principal placed both hands on the surface of her mahogany desk, looking at you two through her glasses.
‘I don’t like repeating myself. This is strike one for you, but this is the second time Mr. Harrington comes to this office for this kind of improper behavior. I can’t accept this, Martha.’
You noticed the way Mrs. Harrington looked at Steve, disappointment all over her face as he avoided her eyes. You bit your lip looking down at your pleated skirt. When you leaned in to kiss him it had seemed like a really good idea. Now you weren’t so sure about it. But you couldn’t explain Mrs. Halter why you did what you did.
Mrs. Harrington opened her mouth to say something, but you spoke first.
‘It was a stupid bet, Mrs. Halter. Steve didn’t even know about it.’ You rushed to say. ‘And if you want to know, my parents are already refusing to take me skying to the alps this year because of it.’
Steve bit the inside of his cheek at the way you sat straight with your hands over your crossed knees. You were using your diplomatic voice then, and the scene took him back to what his dad said the night of the party. Yes, you could be an amazing lawyer. You were hypocrite enough for the job.
‘What a nightmare.’ She said sarcastically.
‘Precisely.’ You replied.
She stood in silence for a few seconds. ‘Anything to say Mr. Harrington?’
He shook his head then, innocence all over his face as he pretended to hesitate on what to say. ‘Uh, it won’t happen again, Mrs. Halter.’
The three of you walked out of the office. Mrs. Halter let you go with a warning because you had never really been caught in any offensive conduct, and you had somehow managed to convince her to do the same for Steve.
‘I’m so sorry about that, sweetie.’ Murmured Mrs. Harrington while stroking your back. He was a few steps behind you, walking with his hand on his pockets. ‘I’ll talk to Steve about it, he can be so impulsive sometimes.’
You heard him scoff behind you. The blood rushing to your cheeks knowing he had heard her words.
‘It’s not like that.’ You murmured.
The three of you stopped in front of the school’s reception. Mrs. Harrington stroked your arms, standing in front of you. You studied her face then; she had aged gracefully. A few wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, hair still voluminous and outfits as colourful and glamorous as they had been in the past.
‘I know my son.’ She said to you before eyeing him. You got the feeling she really didn’t. Steve rolled his eyes at her words as she took a step towards him, the clicking of her expensive heels echoing through the empty hallway.
‘Mom–’
‘Stay out of trouble, okay?’ Her voice was low when she said it, almost hurt at something you couldn’t quite grasp. She brushed the brown strands of hair that fell on his face. ‘I’ll see you next weekend.’
He simply nodded. You looked down to your shoes, unsaid words hanging in the silence between them.
‘Bye, sweetie.’ She said to you as she walked towards the exit.
‘Goodbye, Mrs. Harrington.’ You softly replied.
Steve couldn’t stand the way you bit your lip while playing with the sleeves of your sweater. He couldn’t stand the way you had gotten him out of trouble. He couldn’t stand his mom’s inexplicable affection towards you. And he couldn’t stand the sadness behind her eyes as he looked down at him with disappointment.
You opened your mouth to say something, but he started walking in the opposite direction, fingers brushing his messy locks as he hit your shoulder with his before heading to class.
‘Thought you said it wouldn’t happen again.’ You whispered as his hand found the curve of your ass under your skirt. Your noses were brushing as you laid against the lockers of the gym’s changing rooms, his sweaty body against you, one knee resting on the bench while the other stood straight.
‘You were the one who came to see me during practice, needy thing.’ His hand squeezed your butt cheek, nails leaving half-moons on your skin as his face was buried in your neck and your hands ran through his sweaty hair.
It wasn’t a lie. You just wanted to see if he was okay after what happened with Mrs. Harrington earlier. It’s not like you cared about him. But in the last few days you had realised how much in debt you felt to her for what she had done for you when you were a child, and she seemed to be getting worse and worse with the passing of years.
His lips on yours made you forget all about it, though. Wet tongues fighting for dominance as he put your soaking underwear aside and his dick teased your wet pussy. ‘This better be quick, okay? No fighting, no bratty attitude. Have to go back in twenty minutes.’
‘You’re so fucking full of your– Uh.’ You couldn’t help but moan when he went in with no warning, fucking you against the locker, your head hitting the metal behind it softly.
‘S exactly what I fucking mean. Can’t shut the fuck up and let yourself be fucked, can you?’
He pushed in deeper as you rolled your eyes at how full your felt, back arching at the sweet sensation of your walls closing around his length.
‘N-No.’ You said in between breaths. ‘Wouldn’t be fun that way.’
To your surprise, he laughed against you ear as he fucked you deeper and deeper, your walls getting wetter by the stimulation. ‘So fucking rude aren’t you? Gonna fuck that brattinness out of you. Gonna– Shit. Gonna ruin’ you.’
‘Try.’
‘What did you just fucking say?’ He took his face out of its hiding place to look at you. But you didn’t reply, instead you took the opportunity to push him down, body falling on the bench as you moved to position yourself on top of him.
You sat on his dick then, the sudden friction making him hit his head against the metal door behind him, your open palm next to it to support yourself. You started moving your hips, grinding on him as his hands found your ass, squeezing again.
‘Shhh-Shit.’ he said under his breath as you followed his mouth with yours.
‘I said try, Harrington.’ You whispered then.
‘Fuck you.’ He said under his breath. His hands squeezed even harder as you started bouncing, firmly and deeply, making him release a soft growl.
‘You’re already doing it.’ You said as he started guiding your hips just how he wanted while you tried to hit that spot you liked with his cock. Both of you using each other’s bodies to reach that sweet point of no return.
He laughed against your neck, a low thing eclipsed by the noises of skin against skin and the quiet moans you were fighting to hold in. A few minutes of sighs, whines and hard gulps passed while you felt your skin fill with goosebumps and getting sweaty at the same time. Your cheek pressed against his, mouth close to his ear to he could hear your desperate moans as you got closer.
‘Steve.’
‘I know. Fuck, I know.’ His arms wrapped around you, holding you impossibly closer to his body. ‘You feel so fucking good. Touch your pussy for me, yeah? Can you do that? Can you fucking do as you’re told for once?’
You were grateful he wasn’t looking at your face, rolling your eyes in pleasure at the way his voice turned deeper the more impatient he became. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when your hand reached under your skirt, drawing soft circles over your clit.
‘Good girl.’ He said in between heavy breaths. Your hips and knees started to shake as you got closer to your orgasm. ‘Yeah, that’s a good girl. That’s a good girl. Let me see you.’
You didn’t know why you were giving in so easily, head moving to place your forehead on his as he controlled the rhythmic speed that was working for you two. He started nodding encouragingly, head resting on the locker behind him to enjoy the way your eyebrows arched, needy eyes looking into the sweet brown of his.
‘Fuck.’ You whispered. ‘FuckFuckFuck.’
Your eyes shut hard, nails digging on the exposed skin of his shoulder as you felt the walls of your cunt tighten. He squeezed your ass once more, pushing your lower back towards him before you felt his hot release inside you. A mess of sticky thighs and heavy breaths filling the changing room.
‘Move.’ He said squeezing your hips. You did as he said, ears ringing and soreness starting to burn in between your legs. You sat on the bench with your back against the lockers, catching your breath as he fixed his gym shorts. ‘Don’t come here for this again, okay?’
You frowned then, staying silent for a long second before you scoffed.
‘Are you being serious right now?’
He looked up and down at you before cleaning his face with a towel.
‘What? I told you I only had twenty minutes. And I don’t wanna get caught again. I actually want to graduate, you know?’
You stood up from the bench, blinking repeatedly at nothing in particular, feeling stupid out of sudden. You took a few steps forwards to be face to face with him.
‘You’re a fucking asshole.’
Steve followed your silhouette with his eyes as you walked out of the changing rooms.
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18 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
You had finals before Christmas break, so you tried to study with your thighs pressed under your desk, ignoring the sex flashbacks that often visited you at night when you were alone in bed.
You hadn’t spoken to Steve since Monday, and your determined aims to ignore him brought you memories from the period where your dad was in rehab. Spotting him in between the mess of uniforms, lowering your gaze if you walked next to him in a hallway, holding your breath if his cedarwood cologne invaded your lungs when you walked into a classroom he had been in before.
Everything was fine. You had a little slip no one knew about. You hadn’t been caught, and you were about to get a well-deserved break after months of studying until feeling your head would explode. You’d find someone else to fuck in a few months and it would all be forgotten.
But Steve wasn’t going to let you forget it. He’d still look right at you whenever your walked into the classes you shared, being annoyingly obvious by tilting his head a little and lifting his eyebrows the counted times your eyes met his. You learned to dodge his shoulder when he walked past you, and a couple of times he felt the urge to grab your elbow, so you’d look back at him to ask you what the fuck your problem was.
You endured it with frustrated sighs, rolling your eyes when no one saw you, and staying as long as you could in your dorm studying. You had a lot to look forward to. Your mom would come pick you up on Friday and you’d go to the city over the weekend to buy Christmas presents. You’d go to the Prada store together just like you did every year, and order room service while trying on all the new moisturisers she’d get.
Every winter you tried to forget December 1976, and so far, every winter you succeeded. Fucking Steve Harrington a couple of times wasn’t going to prevent you from succeeding once again.
But on Friday, when you left your room and walked out of the reception with your suitcase, your smile fell at the sight of a man in a suit holding a sign with your name in it. Worse than that, it wasn’t just your name on the sign.
Steve lifted his eyebrows when you walked out, he was leaning against the black car with his arms crossed, wearing jeans and a camel sweater. You blinked many times at the man in front you, a confusing frown adorning your face.
‘Hello, Miss–’
‘This must be a mistake.’ You interrupted him. ‘I-I’m sorry, I was supposed to be picked up by my–’
‘Your mother kindly asked the Harrington family to pick you up this weekend. I’ll make sure to drive you home. You have nothing to worry about.’
‘Kindly asked–’ You whispered under your breath, eyes stinging and anxiety rushing to your chest. ‘Excuse me.’
Steve frowned when you left your bags in front of the chauffeur, walking back inside the school, boots clicking over the mahogany wooden tiles.
‘Get the bags inside, Jack.’ He told the man in the suit. ‘Just gonna check what’s going on now.’
You stood in front of the payphone, holding the handset against your ear as the tears pooled in your eyes.
‘Pickup,pickup,pickup.’ You repeated to yourself tapping your heel against the floor. A few minutes passed as your ears only focused on the beeping of the line and the beating of your heart.
‘Hello?’ You let out a deep breath of relief. ‘Hello?’
‘D-Dad.’ You tried to control your voice, but it came out as a shaky breath.
‘Hey, flower.’ He said, he sounded okay. You were certain he sounded okay. ‘Is everything good? What’s going on?’
‘Nothing.’ You laughed then, cleaning your cheek with the back of your hand. ‘I-I’m sorry. I just, I was just being silly. Didn’t remember who was picking me up this weekend.’
‘Oh.’ He said. ‘Well, technically is your mother, but I can come pick you up if you want to? I thought you were going Christmas shopping tomorrow.’
‘Yes.’ You rushed to say. ‘Yes, we are. I just– I think I’ll just leave with Steve instead. He’s going to Hawkins anyways.’
‘Sounds good then. Give me a call when you’re home safe. Okay, flower?’
You nodded as if he could see you. ‘Sure, dad.’
‘Bye. Love you.’ You smiled, a breathy laugh mixing with your tears.
‘Love you, dad.’
You cleaned your nose with the back of your hand as you hung the phone. You were about to turn around when a hand resting on the top of the payphone startled you.
‘What’s going on?’ You looked up to find Steve’s brown stare, eyebrows frowning at the sight of your watery eyes. ‘Wha– Why are you crying?’
You shook your head in response, moving to walk back to the parking lot.
‘Let’s just go home, Steve.’
‘No.’ He grabbed your elbow, relieved that he finally had a reason to do it. ‘What’s wrong?’
You avoided his eyes, looking to your side, sounding exhausted when you spoke. ‘Steve, I don’t wanna do this right now. Can we go home?’
He didn’t reply, so you looked back at him while you got rid of his grip. ‘Please?’
His hand fell on his side as he nodded.
‘There you are!’ Said your mother as soon as the car parked in front of the Harrington’s house, open arms ready for you. She looked annoyingly gorgeous wearing her red turtleneck and pearl earrings. Mrs. Harrington was standing next to her, looking just as beautiful with a martini glass on her hand.
‘You could’ve told me you weren’t picking me up.’ You said partly returning the hug as her perfume surrounded you.
‘Oh, don’t be silly.’ She took a step back to have a better look at you. ‘Martha invited us for dinner, and I thought it’d be easy if you came with Steve rather than driving all the way there.’
Steve climbed the steps of the entrance, opening the door for the three of you.
‘Right.’ You said under your breath as you walked into the mansion’s entrance. You smiled at Mrs. Harrington then, it was supposed to be a polite gesture, but the drink on her hand only made you feel sad.
‘Are you okay, sweetie?’ She said arching her eyebrows.
You nodded subtly. ‘M just tired.’
‘Why don’t you take a nap in the guests’ room?’ She said squeezing your shoulder, the glass had made her hand cold. ‘Or I can ask a maid to prepare you a bath?’
Steve’s eyes found yours then, standing against the stair’s banister with his hands in his pockets. He frowned at the way you blinked many times, trying to dissimulate your blurry gaze. Without the people, the music and the decorations from last weekend’s party, this place made you feel as if you were ten years old again.
It had never occurred to him you still remembered that one time he prepared you the bath with the pink bubbles. The way you had talked in your sleep while the excitement of the Christmas morning made him wide awake. Your pink pyjamas, having hot chocolate for breakfast. His mother braiding your hair.
The breakdown she had when he asked for a sister right after you left.
‘I’ll take the guest room, please.’ You whispered.
‘I think I made clear I’m not in the mood to deal with you, Steve.’ You said walking down the hallway to get to the guest room.
‘As if I’m ever in the mood to deal with you.’ You heard him say behind you.
You let out a deep breath, rolling your eyes as you walked inside the room. You knew he wasn’t going to leave just like that, so you threw your bag on the little armchair and started undressing.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What does it look like I’m doing?’ You said throwing your jeans on top of your bag. ‘I’m trying to get ready for a nap.’
‘Oh, yeah. You sure as hell are.’
You were left on your panties and your matching cami top, heat rising to your cheeks when you realised you looked exactly as if you had chosen the set with the intention of having sex.
Steve took a few steps towards you, a cocky smile on his face while he studied you. Your eyelids were slightly puffy, and he wished he could just brush his thumbs over them, but there were certain types of touch he knew he was not allowed to give you.
‘Is this your idea of teasing?’ He asked.
You rolled your eyes as you walked to the bed.
‘Not everything is about you, Steve.’
You had just put the covers over your legs when you heard the noise of his belt dropping on the floor.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ You asked as he walked around the bed wearing only his boxers.
‘Getting ready for a nap.’ He said getting under the covers.
You let out a sigh as you looked at the ceiling, feeling his weight on the mattress. You were fighting hard not to smile. You were fighting hard not to cry.
He knew something was going on, but he couldn’t just ask. That’s not what you two did. He wasn’t sure what you did was, but it certainly didn’t involve deep, personal conversations. So that’s why he was careful when his fingers started brushing the skin of your thigh.
You shut your eyes at his touch, letting out a deep breath as his hand traced a line from your knee to your hipbone. You hated to admit it, but it was actually working, making your body relax. Steve took a look at your profile, following the line from your forehead to your chest, pebbly nipples showing through the pattern of pink flowers on your top, a little ribbon in between your breasts. He could’ve just stayed there looking at every single hair of your body turn into a goosebump and that would’ve been enough.
‘You don’t fucking get to time it.’
Your voice made him lift his eyes back at you. ‘What?’
‘You don’t get to time how long we have sex for.’ You said then. ‘Or where. You were a fucking dick last time.’
‘Oh, really?’ He said sarcastically, lifting his eyebrows at your boldness. His hand moved from your thigh to the hem of your panties then, playing with the lacy fabric. ‘What else?’
You rolled your eyes at the way you felt yourself getting wet already. He couldn’t help but look at your mouth when you licked your lips to speak again, scoffing as you pondered about where to start.
‘It makes me fucking angry when you boss me around.’
The idiotic smile on his face almost made you roll your eyes again if it wasn’t for the fact that his fingers had found the wet patch on your underwear, thick digits rubbing the gentlest circles on them.
He moved so his face was closer to you then, breath brushing on your ear as he whispered.
‘Really? ‘Cause I think it makes you fucking wet, and that is what makes you angry.’
You wouldn’t have been able to keep in the wetness that damped your underwear then, your body betraying you in the filthiest of ways as Steve’s deep laugh echoed in your ear.
He moved, making you resist the urge to cross your legs at the absence of his fingers. Steve took his own sweet time, and you had had such a long day that you just let him wrap his fingers on each ankle and place them on either side of his legs as he kneeled in between them. He brushed his hair with his fingers, taking in the sight in front of him.
Your hair falling on the pillowcase, your puffy glossy eyes, the curve of your neck turning into the line of your collarbones. Your perfect nipples hard and sensitive under the fabric of your top, the space between its hem and the lace of your panties. That perfect damp spot turning wetter and wetter every second. His hand cupped your cheek then, thumb brushing your lower lip that he had been thinking about that same morning. Tense silence falling like snow on Christmas Day.
‘You don’t get to tell me what to do.’ He said.
He wanted you to believe him, but your eyes were looking at the bulge in his boxers, then back at his brown eyes, driving him insane. Controlling every single reaction of his touch starved skin. It was the way you so willingly nodded at his words that seemed suspicious to him.
‘You don’t believe me?’ He asked, lifting his eyebrows.
You sat on your elbows then, looking at him with eyes full of irreverence. ‘Of course, I believe you.’
It was the first time he was able to take his own time with you, getting rid of your panties and focusing on the thread of wetness still connected to your underwear when he finally took them off your ankles.
‘You’re lying.’ It was an accusation, but it sounded soft, almost sweet.
His fingers stroked your legs from your knees to your thighs, squeezing there before brushing your puffy clit just lightly, your head falling back onto the pillow at the sensual touch. ‘Why are you fucking lying?’
‘M not– Shit, Steve.’ You lifted your head to find his head buried in between your legs, tongue playfully stroking your clit. ‘Why can’t you just fucking warn me before doing that?’
He laughed softly, breath stroking your cunt just nicely. Two of his fingers found their way inside you, making you squeeze your wet walls around them as you arched your back.
‘You’re not listening. You don’t get to fucking tell me what to do.’He repeated before burying his face in between your legs again, mouth hungrily eating you out as you grabbed your top with your fists, the movement causing you to expose your breasts slightly.
‘Steve–’ You moaned.
‘Shhh.’ He whispered against your pussy while adding a third finger inside you. ‘Shut the fuck up. You don’t want them to know I’m eating your pretty cunt, do you?’ You shook your head in response. ‘No, of course you don’t, needy thing. So stay fucking quiet while I eat you, then.’
‘You’re such a piece of shit.’ You said in between heavy breaths.
‘And you’re a needy brat that’d do anything to get fucked. Guess we deserve each other.’
His flat tongue licked your slit then, reaching your puffy clit and he kept it exposed and wet for you to grind on it. You heard him swallow, and the sound just made you even wetter, looking down at him as he made out with your pussy. You were tired of fighting, and he was right about something. At that point, you’d do anything to get fucked.
So, you just let him take care of it. You made sure to keep your moans low as he kept fingering you and eating you out. Only the wet sounds of his mouth on you and his fingers getting in and out of your pussy filling the room.
And he got lost in it. In your perfume and your taste, in the way you caged him with your legs, wanting him closer. In the needy noises you were fighting to keep in, coming out as whispery whines.
‘Such a sweet cunt, fuck.’ He whispered against it, overindulging every single nerve of the shiny skin that he knew deserved to be devoured. It was as if you didn’t even exist anymore, mouth only focused on the swollen folds in front of him.
A gasp left your lips as you got closer, hands grabbing onto locks of brown hair and legs trying to open impossibly wider. Steve pushed your thigh with his free hand, and you looked down at him to take in the pretty sight in front of you. Eyes shut in concentration, shiny lips hungry and swollen. He was trying to prove something to you, and in the process, he was losing.
‘That’s it.’ You said in a high-pitched whispery moan. ‘Yeah. Eat me just like that. Fuck. Let me just–’ You pushed his head firmly against you and he moaned. ‘Hmm. You like that, don’t you? Look at me, Steve.’
He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe he was just pussy drunk on you, or maybe it was the way you said it in such a quiet yet demanding manner. Not like you wanted it, but like you needed it. But he lifted his eyes look at you. He gave in. He couldn’t just not.
You didn’t expect him to, but his surrender was probably what sent you to the edge. Hips moving, back arching, and legs closing over his head as your pussy clenched and throbbed in sweet pleasure.
You both exhaled loudly when the moment died down. He moved from your legs, cleaning his face with the back of his hand as you reached for your panties. You felt weird then, as if you had to thank him or something.
The thought made you even more flushed. You looked up at him, an awkward laugh leaving you lips that provoked the same response in him.
‘Do you want me to–’
‘Nah.’ He shook his head, checking the watch on his wrist. ‘Dinner will be served in a few minutes so we better hurry.’
‘What?’ You said standing up from the bed to reach for your jeans. ‘Why the fuck didn’t you say something?’
Steve put his hands on his hips then, looking at you from the bed with an amused expression.
‘Thought you didn’t want me to fucking time you.’
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11 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
Next week, you sat down for your finals in the mornings and met Steve in the evenings to relieve stress. At least that’s what you were telling yourself.
He visited you in your dorms rather than you going to his, because it would’ve been more obvious that way, high on the thrill of a shared secret. And in a mess of love bites, tongues and moans you started to memorize each other’s skin.
You’d look both ways in the hallway before grabbing the neck of his sweater and pulling him in, the smell of coffee lingering in the air as his lips met yours, walking you backwards to your bed and pushing you on top of your open books.
The days he had basketball practice or had gone swimming, he took it slow, letting you take over just a little, tired brown eyes looking up at you as you bounced on him, tangled hair framing your face while you sucked on his thumb. But most times he fucked you while you still wore your uniform, too needy to waste any time undressing you, just removing your underwear and burying his face on your neck, hands squeezing your thighs while you sat on your desk, your desperate moans making him even more impatient.
Steve was so overtaken by temptation that he missed the signs. He should’ve noticed that Friday afternoon, when he knocked on your door and you opened it with an irritated face.
‘Oh, great.’ You scoffed before walking back into your room. You didn’t look at him with the usual darkness behind your eyes or pull his sweater the way you had done the last few days. You just walked back inside.
He should’ve known that things were going downhill, because he followed you instead of leaving as he would’ve done in any other situation with any other girl. But something in his chest stung at the way you had greeted him, and he couldn’t stand it.
‘What the fuck is your problem?’ He said closing the door behind him.
Your room was a mess of books and clothes, a couple of bags on the bed that you were preparing for when you stayed over at your dad’s this weekend.
‘Nothing, I just–’ You shook your head, grabbing a couple of pants from the floor. ‘I totally fucked up on my Spanish test today.’
Steve’s silence made you turn your back to him. He was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
‘S that all? That’s the reason why you’re being so bitchy right now?’
You held a breath while taking some more clothes from your bed, not bothering about folding them and throwing them inside the bags.
‘Yes, Steve. Some of us actually give a shit about school, you know?’
‘I give a shit.’ He said walking towards you, an uncomfortable feeling of frustration growing on his chest as you hid your eyes from him. He stood next to you with his hands in his pockets. ‘But you need to pull that stick out of your ass. You can’t be the best at everything.’
You clinched your jaw then, eyes blinking and anger rising to your chest. You didn’t know why, but you thought about your dad sitting on the classroom looking at your grades while he spoke to your teacher, and something in your stomach twisted.
‘You wouldn’t get it.’ You said under your breath, closing the zip of your bag.
‘Oh, I wouldn’t get it?’ He scoffed while his hands found your hips.
Only then your eyes landed on his face, making you hold your breath. He had changed his uniform already, a burgundy sweater with its sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The softness of it all made you uncomfortably warm, arms crossing on your chest as you look to your side. But Steve wasn’t having any of that, lifting your chin with his thumb so you would look at him. 
‘Stop being so stuck-up.’ He said. ‘You’ll be fine.’
You don’t know why you leaned in then, crashing your lips with his and running your fingers through his brown strands of hair. Maybe you just needed to drain your anger, or maybe it was the fact that his patronizing attitude had made your eyes water, and you didn’t want him to notice. Steve held you closer, hands wandering under your skirt, gently squeezing your butt cheek as you kissed him with something worse than hatred. Something darker than desire.
‘Fuck– Did you just fucking bite me?’ He said leaning back.
You laughed softly, cleaning your mouth with the back of your hand as you moved to lay on the bed with your legs partly opened, a sweet invitation to make the whole thing much worse than it already was. ‘You kind of deserved it.’
He scoffed, eyebrows lifting slightly as he undid his belt in that cocky way of his, while you enjoyed the view of his flushed cheeks and swollen lower lip. You could’ve sworn there was a smile hiding behind it when he stood in between your legs and put one hand on each of your knees.
‘You don’t get to decide that.’ He said opening your legs, fingers brushing your skin as they drew a line upwards.
His fingers found the lace of your panties, pulling them down slowly, pretty brown eyes focused on the wet patch in the middle of the fabric he threw on the floor. He lifted the fabric of your skirt to peek into your soaked folds letting out a longing sigh, and you felt your nipples turn harder under your bra.
You saw him lean towards your centre and you held your breath, craving for his touch, but his lips landed on the inner side of your thigh, where his mouth sucked hard to leave a love bite. He felt the way your hips sank on the mattress, longing for any type of touch, but his hands only sneaked into your skirt to stroke the skin over your hipbones.
‘Hmm. Spoiled girl. What am I gonna do with you?’ He whispered against your skin, nose brushing as he left a trail of kisses up your stomach, avoiding your needy core. ‘Do you think maybe getting fucked is gonna fix that bitchy attitude?’
He moved to get on top of you, brown strands of hair tickling your forehead as he studied your face. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes when you felt the tip of his cock on your entrance, teasing your clit with soft strokes. Steve tilted his head to have a better look at you, enjoying the way your breath had turned heavier.
‘Answer me.’
Your eyes hid from his then, suddenly turning shy. You didn’t see the way he frowned at your change of mood, and he wondered if you had maybe changed your mind. If your mood had to do with something that wasn’t the test. But a second later you looked up at him with that darkness he knew so well, and you pulled the neck of his sweater towards you so his lips would brush yours, giving him what he had been wanting since the moment he stood up behind your door.
‘Maybe.’ You whispered against his lips. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Hmm. Need a better answer.’ He said, the tip of his cock already on your entrance. ‘Maybe an apology for bein’ so fucking irritating.’
He started slowly inserting his dick, teasing you and making you lift your chin in response.
‘Steve.’ You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of asking him to fix everything with his touch.
‘…Talkin’ about tests ‘n shit when we could’ve been doin’ this since I got here.’ He buried his head on your neck then, slowly getting carried away by the way your walls were already tightening around him. A breathy laugh left his lips, as he kept teasing you with his dirty talk. ‘Little Miss Perfect. Can’t stand not winning for once, huh?’
You released the breath you were holding when he finally pushed himself inside you, shutting your eyes hard as he started to fuck you slowly. You moved your head to brush your nose with his, and he took the opportunity to look at you while you kept your eyes closed; the way your eyebrows arched in a beautiful, desperate frown. The needy breathes leaving your mouth, mimicking the rhythm in which he fucked you.
‘You’re so mean to me.’
It was a whispery whine. A mess of needy, breathy words that he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t this close, if he hadn’t been looking at your face as you said it. He leaned in then, softly pecking your mouth.
‘I’m so good to you.’ You whispered against his lips, opening your eyes just slightly as you wrapped your legs around him. He looked at you with heavy eyelids, brown stare lost in the way your innocent eyes looked up at him. ‘I’m so good to you and you’re so mean to me.’
He should’ve known then, by the way his heart was beating fast against his ribs. By the way he instinctively cupped your face with his hand, thinking you were the sweetest thing he’d ever fucked.
‘How else am I gonna make you cum, huh?’ He whispered back. You laughed softly at his words and his eyes lit up as he smiled. ‘Wanna make you feel good. You’ve had a hard day, right?’
You nodded subtly, closing your eyes at the tender touch of his thumb rubbing your cheek softly.
‘S okay, needy girl. ‘M gonna fuck that stress out of you, okay?’ He whispered against your lips as he buried his dick deeper inside you, gaining speed. You let out a moan at the sudden change of rhythm, arching your back as you got exactly what you needed. ‘You’re taking me so well. Feelin’– Feelin’ so goddamn tight around me.’ Heavy breaths leaving his mouth as he tried not to get carried away again. ‘Did you touch yourself a little before I came here?’
You swallowed hard as you wrapped your legs even tighter around his hips, urgently nodding.  ‘S okay. Told you it was gonna help. See how good it feels when you do as I say?’
You didn’t reply to his arrogant remarks, but you did dig your nails deep into his freckled back underneath his sweater, growing needier as his speed increased and things came back to the way they always were between you two.
‘Let me see you.’ He whispered. ‘Keep your eyes open. I– I wanna see you.’
You did as he said, fist holding hard onto his sweater, looking deep into his eyes while your vision turned blurry and the pleasure took over your body. ‘Needy thing’s been so tense lately, huh? Cum for me. Look at you. Fuck, look at you.’
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9 DAYS UNTIL CHRISTMAS.
You should’ve been suspicious by the fact Steve sent his driver to get you. You had woken up that Sunday and put on your comfiest clothes when the ringing bell made you frown your eyebrows. On Sunday the staff took the day off, and your dad went golfing, so you walked down the stairs of the lonely mansion to find Jack standing in his normal clothes, the absence of his usual suit making you narrow your eyes.
‘Good morning, Miss.’
‘Hi.’ You said shyly. ‘I thought you didn’t work weekends.’
The blood rushed to your cheeks by your stupid comment.
‘I usually don’t.’ He said. You could see he was repressing a smile. You realised then that this man was a hundred percent aware that you were fucking the son of his boss.
‘You could’ve called.’ You said.
He was standing against the door frame of his room, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt over his body, looking at you checking the movie tapes scattered around his TV.
He shrugged. ‘Figured I’d just send Jack since we had breakfast together.’
The truth was, he didn’t know what else to do. He had woken up that morning wishing for once to be at the school. He was sure he was getting a cold; the staff was off, and his parents were away on a trip. The house was so intolerably deserted that he knew the echoing silence was going to drive him insane. But now you were here.
He should’ve realised then.
You stood silent for a few seconds, walking around the bed, and sitting over the teal bedsheets.
‘He knows.’
Steve let out a soft laugh. ‘He doesn’t know.’
‘He fucking knows.’ You said with a cheeky smile you were trying to hide, making his wider. ‘He drove me here and left. Believe me, he knows.’
He walked into the room, sitting on the chair of his mahogany desk opposite to your spot on the bed to have a better look at you. Strands of brown hair falling on his forehead, cheeks unusually flushed making you frown your eyebrows.
‘Is that a problem?’ He asked.
His eyes followed your body as you moved from the bed, knees on the floor of his bedroom as you crawled towards him. You enjoyed the way his chest moved when he sighed at the sight of you, stare following the perfect line from your back to your ass, eyelids heavy over brown eyes as you made your way to him in silence.
‘I don’t think so.’ You said sitting on your knees in front of the chair. Your delicate cold fingers found the cord of his sweatpants, carefully undoing it before moving the fabric down, freeing his already hard cock. His body filled with goosebumps with anticipation, dying to be inside your mouth.
Steve let out a deep breath at the sight in front of him. He had the whole day, the whole day for you to fuck in every single room of his lonely depressing house. His hands reached for your face as you started stroking his dick, but you couldn’t ignore the subtle shake of them as they moved to cup your face.
‘Why are you shaking?’ You said taking one of your hands over his on your face. But he simply shrugged, too mesmerized by the sight of your pretty mouth to answer you. ‘Steve, are you sick?’
He shook his head, but you kneeled forwards to put a hand on his neck to check his temperature. ‘You’re burni–’
‘Hey,’ He wrapped his fingers around your wrist. ‘It’s nothing, okay? Don’t worry about it. It’s just a cold.’
‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ You said then, standing up. His eyes followed you, turning soft at the sudden rejection.
‘Hey– No.’ His tone was urgent while he fixed his sweatpants. ‘C’mon, I’m fine.’
You crossed your arms over your waist, raising one of your eyebrows. ‘I’m not doing this unless you take something, Steve. I’m sure you’ve got a fever.’
He rolled his eyes, letting out a sigh. ‘Right, okay.’
He didn’t say anything when you followed him down the hallway. But as you walked behind him, your mind took you back to eight years ago, walking past the bathroom where Steve had prepared you a bath, feeling the softness of the carpet under your feet, until you both made it to his parents’ bedroom.
You tried to hide your curiosity as you looked around that room you hadn’t really been in before, only imagining the corners of it you never got to see through the memories of your childhood. You remembered it bigger and darker. The empty fireplace and the king size bed illuminated in blue shades of winter since Steve didn’t bother turning the lights on when he walked in.
You followed him into the toilet as he opened the mirror cabinet, looking through the medicines. Standing next to him, you tried to read the labels on the bottles of pills, trying to find anything that could help with a mild cold.
‘Oh.’ You said lifting a hand and taking a glass bottle. ‘Do you have a cough?’
Steve grabbed the bottle from you then, leaving your empty hand in the air by the sudden reaction.
‘No.’ He said putting it back into its place.
You frowned next to him, but he didn’t look at you as he grabbed a little plastic bottle and placed it on the sink.
‘I, uh, I think it won’t hurt to have some. Just to prevent a cough, you know.’ The gesture had caught you so off guard you voice had come out softer than you intended.
He shook his head slightly, avoiding your eyes as he picked the glass on the counter and filled it with water from the sink. You instinctively took a step to your side, looking for his eyes with yours.
‘That’s not cough syrup.’ He simply said twisting the bottle’s lid and taking two pills out.
You realised what he meant as he threw his head back and drank the water swallowing the pills. How could you not? You more than anyone knew what it was like to find stashes of alcohol in the most random places. Behind the bookshelf, among your mom’s shoes collection, under your bed. Between your dolls.
He cleaned his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt, eyes focused on the way his hand emptied the remaining water down the sink. An awkward silence fell between you two as his hands rested on either side of the counter.
‘Do you think I don’t know my mom’s an alcoholic?’
The coldness of his tone didn’t surprise you, but you weren’t used to it, not when it came to this. You didn’t blame him though; you’d been in his position before. You knew the resentment overflowing his tone wasn’t directed at you.
‘I–’ Your throat was dry as you whispered, so you had to swallow hard before speaking again. ‘I thought maybe you just… ignored it.’
He scoffed, a bitter smile in his face as he shook his head and turned around to lean his back against the sink. He still didn’t dare to look at you. He didn’t know if he would be able to stand your soft stare when all he felt was anger. ‘Wish that was the case.’
You nodded in silence, cleaning your sweaty hands on your leggings.
Steve’s mind could only focus on the coldness of the bathroom and his parents’ room. On the fact he had pathetically had breakfast with the chauffeur that day, who had his own family he went to see after doing him the favour of picking you up from your dad’s place. He was sick and no one knew. He probably would’ve forgotten to take something if it wasn’t for you.
That realization didn’t make him feel comfortable.
‘I, uh– I’m actually not feeling well.’ He said running his fingers through his hair and looking down to the bathroom’s tiles. ‘Sorry. I killed the mood.’
You shook your head, voice still soft as you spoke. ‘Don’t apologize.’
He finally looked at you. It was like being ten years old again, almost hoping that if he blinked, he might get to see you wearing your pink pyjamas. He couldn’t stand the sadness in your eyes, your silent sympathy. But he didn’t want you to understand him. In fact, he wished then that you didn’t.
He remembered the little girl that got lost in a mess of uniforms after she came back to school in January 1977, the anger on his chest that first day after Christmas break when he saw you climb out of a black car all by yourself, too many bags for such a little girl. The fight his parents had, one that he had triggered when he mentioned how much he’d love a sister after you left. You turned into just another ghost of childhood.
You noticed how the soft smile on his lips was fighting to make it to his eyes as he looked down to his hands again. ‘You don’t, uh– You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. I just don’t feel like doing stuff anymore.’
Your hands craved for the feeling of running them through his messy hair, cheeks turning even redder with the fever and the anger. But all you did was nod, and he opened his palm pointing at the door, inviting you to walk out first. You felt his steps behind you as you left his parents’ room in silence, coming back to the present, and pretending this house wasn’t haunted by the same ghosts that once wandered in yours.
Steve and you sat in front of the TV on opposite ends of the couch. You thought you two could hang out without making it awkward, but after half an hour of pretending to watch a Christmas movie, you snorted a laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
‘You’re unbearable.’ He said still looking at the TV while his chin rested on his hand and his elbow on the couch’s arm.
‘I’m sorry.’ You said playing with the corner of the blanket that covered your legs. ‘I just– I find it funny how we spent last week fucking almost every day, but we can’t even watch TV together.’
‘Well, that’s because you were “stressed” with finals.’ He said drawing quotes in the air.
‘I was stre– Oh, damn.’ You stopped yourself when you saw the heaviness on his eyelids over his glossy brown pupils. ‘You look like shit.’
He let out a weak laugh, taking his fingers to his eyes. ‘Thanks.’
‘You need to lay down, Steve.’ You said, moving slightly to spread half of the blanket over him. Your body that close from his made him ever warmer, but he wasn’t going to admit that. You palm lifted to check his temperature, placing it on his forehead, your perfume starting to drive him crazy as you sat next to him. Maybe he should’ve fucked you, he was sure that would’ve helped. ‘You still have a fever.’
‘M fine.’ He said closing his eyes at your touch.
‘Can’t you just fucking do as you’re told?’
He opened his eyes to find you smiling cheekily, like a child. He was trying to supress his own smile, but you didn’t let him. Not when you licked your lips with so much sassiness, looking back at the TV to avoid his eyes.
‘Right.’ He said with fake irritation. ‘You got me.’
You weren’t expecting him to move to place his head on your lap, but you didn’t protest, putting the blanket over his body and noticing the slight shake of his hands as he wrapped himself with it. You followed his pretty profile with your eyes, dying to count the freckles on his neck. Steve sighed at the comfort of your fingers in his hair, looking annoyingly cozy under your touch.
‘See how good it feels when you do as I say?’ You mocked him as your fingers ran through the brown strands.
‘Jesus.’ He said taking his hands to his face. You could’ve sworn he was turning even redder under the blanket. ‘Stop. Please. Now.’
Your laugh echoed through the walls of the house like jingle bells as you made a mess of his hair and he shut his eyes in embarrassment. He should’ve realised then, as you adjusted yourself to be more comfortable on the couch, that the rules were bending, and the lines were being crossed. But your smell was everywhere, and he was exhausted and so, so cold. He could hear the pattern of your breath from where he was, and the distant noises of the TV.
He woke up in total darkness. The digital clock next to the TV showed it was eight in the evening. His fever had lowered, and he felt sweaty and in urgent need of a shower. There was an untouched glass of water on the coffee table on top of a note saying there’s soup in the kitchen.
He couldn’t help but smile at the sight of your handwriting.
The phone ringed twice before he heard your voice on the other side.
‘Hello?’
‘I didn’t know you could cook.’ He said.
He swore he could hear you smile on the other side of the line.
‘I don’t.’ You laughed softly. ‘Dad brought it for you when I called him to pick me up. Are you feeling better?’
It took him a few seconds to reply, he had to take a breath to try to ignore the feeling in his chest.
‘Yeah. Just wanted to check you’d gotten home safe.’
He shut his eyes hard then, taking a hand to his face and hoping you didn’t misunderstand his words, but the short pause on the other side of the line made him think otherwise.
‘Right.’
‘Hey, uh, my parents just got here.’ He said then, eyes already used to the lonely darkness that surrounded him. ‘I’m gonna check on them. I’ll see you later.’
‘Yeah. See you later, Steve.’ He heard you take a deep breath. ‘Get well soon.’
‘Thanks.’
He was still holding the phone’s handset against his ear when he heard you hang up.
He should’ve realised then.
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3 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS.
The annual Christmas gala at the Country Club was supposed to be fun. Each year your mother commissioned your dresses in September, and every two weekends you visited the designer’s studio in the city to try them on. You usually spent all day getting your hair and nails done, and she overindulged you with desserts and nice food. It all sounded nice if it wasn’t for the fact that it was the one day of the year where your parents tended to argue the most.
You sighed silently in the limo as you sat in between them two. The tense silence was killing you, after an argument about your college applications had escalated into a fight about things they read on the newspapers: your dad’s new girlfriend, the alcoholic character in your mom’s new movie.
All you could do was sit in silence and roll your eyes until the three of you stepped out of the limousine and smiled for the photographer who stood at the entrance.
Every year it was the same. You walked together to a table that you usually shared with another family. Joyce Byers gave a speech. If you father had a relapse recently, you didn’t leave his side the whole night. If he hadn’t, you’d talk to a few people from school and gossip with your mom. This year it seemed you would just have to endure the tension between them.
It shouldn’t have surprised you when your parents walked towards the table and you saw him sitting down next to an empty chair wearing his suit, hair partly brushed and in place. How long had it been? More than a week since the last time you’d had his body over yours.
You licked your lips as the Harringtons greeted you, your dad and his quickly jumping into a conversation, and his mom giving you a hug, the smell of liquor on her pores making your stomach twist.
‘Hey.’ His eyes lingered on the black dress you were wearing, a strapless short gown with matching gloves. The velvet choker on your neck made him swallow hard as you sat next to him, your perfume suddenly reminding him how long he’d been without fucking you.
‘Hey.’ You repeated with a plain tone. You grabbed the place card on top of your plate and started playing with it as your parents and the Harringtons started talking.
It was all smiles and laughs between the two families as usual, except for you and Steve. He saw the way you frowned as you internally hated them for ruining your mood, the conversation about college making your muscles tense.
You didn’t even notice when the waiter extended a hand and poured wine on your glass, your sad eyes still focused on the gold lettering of your name.
‘What’s your deal today?’ Steve asked then, making your eyes lift.
You were about to shrug and said something defensive, but when you saw him grab the glass with the red liquid and switch it with his own empty glass, gesturing the waiter not to pour any more of it, your semblance softened.
‘College.’
 He let out a bitter laugh. ‘Understandable.’
You lowered your voice, moving slightly towards him so your parents didn’t hear you. His arm automatically extended over the arm of your chair, while his brown eyes looked at you attentively.
‘Mom wants me to go to Berklee. Dad wants me to go to Harvard– Don’t laugh!’
‘M sorry, ‘m sorry.’ He said licking his lips in a way that made you roll your eyes. ‘It’s just– It’s an honest problem, I get it. I just…’
He shook his head, eyes getting lost on the untouched glass in front of him.
‘What?’
He shrugged. ‘It’s cool that they have such high expectations of you.’
You didn’t reply, seeing the way his eyes turned slightly sad as the weight of his observation fell between you two. A part of him had unconsciously accepted that his parents would probably buy his way into college a long time ago.
‘M sure you’ll be fine.’ He said with a reassuring smile.
‘Look at them.’ The voice of Steve’s mom made you lift your eyes. Your mom was smiling, looking down to her napkin while Mrs. Harrington looked at you two with endearing eyes.
The heat rose to your cheeks and your chest hurt at the way she swallowed the last sip of her wine as she put her glass aside, eyes leaving yours to call the waiter.
Steve saw you clinch your jaw, sinking on your chair as his arm left the back of it to sit straight. His mom didn’t notice the change of atmosphere as you avoided everyone’s eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. A waiter came and refilled her glass as you felt her eyes still on you.
‘I aways wanted you two to get together.’ She said in a sweet tone.
‘It’s not–’
‘Jesus, mom.’ He interrupted you, standing up. His hands reached for the refilled glass of wine on her side of the table. ‘We’re just talking, for god’s sake.’
‘Steve!’ She said frowning as he placed her glass next to his.
‘You’ve had enough. It’s not even nine and you’re embarrassing yourself already.’
‘Steven.’ His dad’s eyes were serious when he said his name, the hardness behind them making you lower your own.
You heard him stand up, the chair’s loud noise making a few people look back at your table. You didn’t look behind your shoulder as he walked outside, getting lost between the crowd of the party. But you did look at the way his mother reached out for the wine glass, sitting back as an awkward silence fell on the table.
Joyce Byers asked everyone to be silent through the microphone then, and you saw the way they all looked up at the little stage on the other side of the room, except for your dad, whose blank stare was focused on the glass of soda in front of him.
You discreetly looked around the room trying to find Steve, a feeling of annoyance on your chest as you did. He had skipped dinner, and his parents had just sat there pretending nothing had happened, laughing and joking with yours. Mrs. Harrington was getting progressively drunk with the passing of hours, and your dad was already on his third glass of soda.
It was unbearable.
The merciless December cold hit your face and body as you stepped out in the parking lot, rubbing your arms with your gloved hands. You narrowed your eyes in the dark, finding his silhouette not far from where you were, leaning against his maroon BMW.
You held your breath as you walked towards him.
‘What are you doing?’ You said standing with your arms crossed at a comfortable distance from him, not entirely sure if you wanted to stay here.
He took the bottle of beer to his lips then, swallowing while looking at you. For some reason that made your blood boil, you felt betrayed in a way. Disappointed, even. But why?
He shrugged.
‘Just thinkin’, I guess.’ His sad tone made you even more frustrated.
You rolled your eyes as you walked the short distance and leaned against the car on the space next to him.
‘Did you drive here?’ Your tone was hostile as you tried to fill the silence with anything.
He nodded in silence.
‘I always bring my car to these things. Sometimes mom gets too drunk, and I drive her back while dad stays.’
You turned your head to your side, licking your lips. You didn’t want him to see your eyes had turned glossy. When you managed to calm yourself down, you looked back at him again.
‘You know you’re dealing with this in the worst way possible, right?’ Your tone was cold, and the scoff that followed it even colder. ‘It’s fucking pathetic.’
He laughed sarcastically as he took the bottle to his lips again, almost agreeing with you.
‘You’re so full of yourself.’ He said under his breath.
‘What?’ You said moving to face him, trying to understand if you had heard him right.
‘The fuck do you care how I deal with it?’ He snapped then, looking back at you. ‘‘M not entertaining your saviour complex, princess. You come here and scold me like this is your fucking business, as if we were together–’
‘I’m not your fucking girlfriend, Steve.’
‘And you think I want to be your boyfriend?’
You sighed looking to your side then.
It shouldn’t have hurt you the way it did.
Steve let out a frustrated growl before standing straight and moving a few steps away from the car. You stayed silent, standing straight as he emptied the contents of the almost full bottle on the pavement, clenching your jaw and looking at the chaos you two had created.
Steve walked back and opened the backseat’s door, his eyes looking at you through the messy strands of hair that fell on his forehead.
‘Get in the car.’
You tapped your heel on the pavement for a few seconds, avoiding his gaze and still clenching your jaw.
‘Please.’ You lifted your gaze to look at him, soft eyes and arched eyebrows looking back at you. His voice was an exhausted choky whisper when he spoke again. ‘Please, for god’s sake. Get in the car.’
You knew you should’ve said no. But what Steve, or anyone else didn’t know about you was that you had lived your whole life knowing that temptation would knock on your door one day. Just like it had knocked on your father’s door once. Just how it knocked on Mrs. Harrington’s door every day. What no one knew about you was that you had been waiting for it your whole life, and you were so glad you could finally open the door after yearning for it for too long.
His lips pressed against yours when he got in, and you pulled him in with your eyes closed, hearing the door locking as you laid on the backseat. Your fingers ran through those brown strands of hair you had missed so much, your needy tongue feeling the remains of beer in his, savouring the taste of alcohol for the first time in your life.
One of his hands cupped your face as you got rid of his tie and your demanding fingers started undoing the buttons of his shirt. He kissed down your jaw and neck while rubbing his hardness against your thigh, whimpers leaving your mouth as he moved down to your chest.
You opened your eyes at the sound of fabric stretching, your boobs out of the dress he had pulled down with his fists, gently caressing them with his tongue, wet nipples turning hard under the dim lights of the parking lot.
He sat up to look at you, and you stared back with needy eyes, mesmerized by the way he looked with his shirt opened and jacket still on. He lifted the dress over your stomach, hands stroking your stockings from your knees to your thighs, squeezing your hips and taking in the beautiful sight in front of him.
You gasped when his hand found the skimpy lace of your thong, soaking wet for him, and he started to rub circles on it, making you arch your back as a sweet sigh left your mouth.
‘Love the sounds you make for me.’ He whispered putting your underwear aside and inserting two fingers inside. ‘So whiny and desperate.’
The car filled with the noises of your wetness as he fingered you, leaning forwards to get impossibly closer to you. His forehead rested against your temple, and you heard him take a deep breath as the warmth of his body made yours sweaty.
Steve started to rub his bulge against your leg, hips moving sensually and weight crashing you just nicely as you could feel him get harder. He released a deep growl against your ear, the pressure making him desperate to be inside you.
‘Steve.’ You whispered his name, a high-pitched thing that made his cock throb. ‘Please.’
He took his face of his hiding place, cupping yours with his free hand. Brown eyes soft despite the darkness behind them, rubbing his thumb against your cheek as if you’d disappear any second then. A choky breath stroked your lips as his nose brushed yours and he shook his head.
‘Want to take my time with you. I fucked up out there.’
‘No.’ You whispered back cupping his face with your hands and looking down to his lips before staring at the brown of his eyes again. ‘Nonono, please. I want you. Please.’
He looked into your eyes, hesitating. Your vulnerable tone had made his dick impossibly harder, those innocent eyes driving him insane. You did what he didn’t dare to, and your hands wandered to undo his belt and pants, pulling them down along with their boxers. He observed it all, breaths getting heavier as you grabbed his length while wrapping your legs around him before pushing him towards you with them.
You both held your breaths as he stretched you out, his partly open mouth hovering over yours while you both silently adjusted at the sudden friction.
‘Shit.’ He breathed out.‘You’re so wet.’ His arms caged you when he started to move, feeling your walls squeeze him. ‘You’re so fucking wet, baby, it’s so fucking hot.’
The pet name caught you off guard, making you moan and arch your brows as you bit your lower lip. He laughed softly, his pretty brown eyes lighting up before giving you a soft peck.
‘You like it when I call you that?’ His nose brushed yours softly, the tenderness on his tone making you weak. ‘Uh, baby?’
You shut your eyes, staying silent for a few seconds as the feeling of his cock inside you made you dumb, holding your breath as he fucked you deeper, refusing to answer.
‘Shit, you do, don’t you?’ He whispered against your lips. ‘Always so fucking needy, I fu– I fucking love it. Makin’ me wanna f-fuck you harder.’
So, he did. Hips crashing against you firmly and faster as you back arched and sweet moans left your pretty mouth. You felt his lips kiss your nose, the space next to your mouth, your cheek, your temple, making your legs weaker with every worshipping gesture.
‘Let me see you, baby.’ He said softly as his lips hovered over yours once again. Your shy eyes looked up at him while your hands played with the hairs of his chest. ‘There she is.’ He kissed you once again. ‘Love seein’ your pretty face while I fuck you. Tell me what you want.’
‘Want you–’ Your eyes closed in pleasure as his hand found your clit in between your bodies and you moaned your words. ‘Want you to fuck me harder.’
‘Yeah?’ His other hand found yours then, interlacing them above your head before licking your lower lip. ‘Want me to spoil you?’
‘Fuck.’ You whispered, rolling your eyes as you started moving your hips. ‘Steve.’
‘What, huh?’ He said nodding at you from above, that cockiness that turned you on so much overflowing his tone. ‘Are you getting bratty on me now, baby?
‘N-No. I just– Shit.’ He tilted his head, looking at your angelical face as your words got lost in between your breaths. ‘I need you. Just you. Please.’
Steve’s eyes turned soft then, leaning forwards to place his forehead on yours. His hand squeezed yours as you kept whining with a face full of agony, almost shivering at the pleasure you felt. He’d do anything to give it all to you, everything you needed, as long as he could hear that sweet voice of yours asking for it forever.
‘Tell me to stop.’ He whispered, making you open your eyes at the sudden request. But he kept fucking you as he studied your face, eyes following the lines of your collarbones, the curves of your bouncy boobs, your swollen lips and glossy eyes. ‘T-Tell me to stop. F-fuck, tell me to stop if you’re not mine.’
You blinked repeatedly at his words while he went deeper inside you, hips grinding fast, begging, trying to fuck a confession out of you. One he didn’t know if he was ever going to get.
The fear of never getting one made him hide his face on your neck, letting the air get filled with the noise of his growls and your heavy breaths as his movements turned violently needy.
His hand squeezed yours as you held onto him in confusion, pulling the hair on the back of his neck as he fucked you faster and you felt the pleasure overtaking your body. You should’ve asked him to stop there, but every time you opened your mouth to say something a loud moan left your lips instead. He was fucking you just how you liked it and you were certain he knew it, keeping you from acknowledging the hard truths that were being unleashed the more he turned your body into nothing.
You shut your eyes hard as you felt your walls closing around him, soft animalistic sounds leaving your throat as the bittersweet orgasm numbed your senses. But Steve didn’t stop, he kept fucking your overstimulated cunt in the same rhythm, wanting to do so until you forgot your name, or that you hated him, or that he was foolishly risking it all like an idiot. Fucking you until you forgot you had ruined him.
‘Ste–’
‘Shhh.’ He hushed you as his other hand held onto your hip and squeezed the skin there, his desperate voice eclipsed by the sounds of skin against skin. ‘Just– Just let me fuck you.’ He only moved his face to crash his lips against yours, trying to show you what he couldn’t say with words. ‘Let me fuck you, please. Just let me– Let me– Sh-Shit.’
He collapsed on top of you as his hot cum filled your pussy. Your eyes got glossy while he stayed there, body heavy and sweaty on top of yours, and you wondered what to do. Your shaky fingers hesitated on his scalp as you two tried to catch your breaths, and the lust vanished, leaving a void of emptiness behind.
You pushed his chest softly, gaze to your side as he sat up quickly. His eyes tried to find yours as he took your hair off your face, but he stopped when he noticed the way you shrunk under his touch, licking your lips as you searched for your shoes and underwear in the backseat of his car.
You heard him sigh, a shaky scared thing you weren’t going to acknowledge. He was right, you had this stupid saviour complex that put you in these absurd situations and you had to stop screwing it all in the name of it at some point.
‘C-Can you stay?’ Steve asked, but you shook your head repeatedly in response. His hand hovered over your arm, but after touching you so many times before, he still didn’t know how to hold you. ‘I-I’ll drive you home.’
‘You shouldn’t drive, Steve.’ You said putting your shoes on. ‘You were just drinking.’
‘Please. Heyheyhey.’ His hand found your face when you moved to open the door, and you had no other option than to look back at him with hurt in your eyes. Brown pupils mirroring the ache you tried to hide. ‘Let’s talk, let’s–’
‘No.’ you said holding his wrists and getting rid of his grip. ‘I’m sorry, Steve. I’m not doing this. I can’t. We’re not doing this anymore.’
He swallowed, trying to understand how you could be so cold right after burning under his fingertips. He observed you in silence, eyebrows arching, and eyes hurt as his hands still lingered close to your body.
You stepped out of the car, closing the door behind you as you walked back into the party. You heard the sound of the other door closing over the clicking of your shoes.
‘Can you just listen to me for a second?’ His hand on your elbow made you turn back, finding him with his shirt still unbuttoned under his jacket, messy hair, and glossy eyes as he looked at you. It was so cold you could see his breath in the air.
‘Steve–’
‘I’m trying…’ He said in between breaths, the anxiety rising to his chest as he spoke. ‘To t-tell you… how I feel.’
You stood straight, shaking your head as you looked at your shoes. He tried to take a step towards you then, but you moved before he could, a clear warning of how things had drastically changed in a matter of seconds.
‘I’m not doing this, Steve. We’re too similar.’
‘Sweetheart,’ he said in an exhausted tone, word almost breaking at the end as he got the courage to cup your face in his hands. He was tired of not being able to touch you like wanted, love you like he wanted. ‘How’s that a bad thing, huh? Look at me.’
‘I don’t– Steve.’ You couldn’t help but melt at his touch as his thumbs stroked your cheeks. ‘I’m not doing this.’
‘Listen–’
‘No, you listen. I’m tired of saving people.’ You said putting your hands on his wrists once again with the intention of getting rid of his grip, but they stayed there, holding on to his touch. ‘I’m exhausted. You know why I kissed you that day at school? Because my dad was about to grab a glass of whiskey and fuck my life over for the thousandth time. I was so desperate.’
His eyes got soft at your confession; his hands would’ve fallen from your face if you hadn’t been holding them.
‘And then–’ you said in a shaky breath, tears pooling on your eyes as you did. ‘And then there’s your mom.’
You knew you were hurting him, but there was a reason why you had kept yourself away from the Harringtons for so long. And now that you had crossed the lines, the possibility of Steve following her steps was too painful to bear.  
‘My mom.’ He took a step backwards, studying your face as his hands finally fell from your face, your own hovering over his wrists now.
You shut your eyes, feeling the tears run down your cheeks. Feeling selfish and scared. And desperate to have those hands cupping your face again.
‘I am terrified that you will end up just like her.’ You admitted crossing your arms over your body, the shameful admission making you shrunk.  
Steve’s eyes looked away from you, hands finally falling on his sides as he attempted to leave, but after taking a few steps away, he seemed to change his mind.
‘You think you’ve got your shit figured out, but you’re as likely to end up like your dad as I am to end up like my mom.’ He said, anger overflowing his tone as he looked at you. ‘You can’t stand the sight of her? Well, she can’t even look at you without remembering how badly she wanted another kid.’
Your eyes turned soft as his honesty, and he had to look away, rubbing his shaky hand against his mouth as the frustration took over himself.
‘D’you know there was a time we couldn’t even mention your surname in the house? Or talk about your dad? Do you even remember when my mom stopped talking to your mom?’ He laughed bitterly, running his fingers through his hair. ‘Probably not. But I do. I sure as hell do. You have no idea what it’s like to go through what she’s gone through. Or what it was like to see her miserable efforts to have another baby when she couldn’t even be my mom.’
You bit your lip as you look to your side, taking a deep shaky breath. He couldn’t stand the sight of you with your shivering arms and your long gloves and your short dress that couldn’t keep you warm like he knew he could.
You lifted your gaze when you heard him sniff and he just stood there, looking at the snowy ground. Looking at what you had created and destroyed together.
‘You think you’re above everyone else, but you’re just a coward, and I hope you know that.’ He said, before whispering under his breath. ‘I hope you fucking know that.’
You stood there as he left, walking past the BWM as he buttoned his shirt up and got lost in the maze of cars and snow. Your knees were shaky, and your nose blocked, but you still stood there cold, and alone. Thinking that maybe that’s what you deserved after all the damaged you had caused.
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CHRISTMAS DAY, 1984.
You woke up in the room of your mother’s house with the excitement of a little girl. Your blankets were soft, the heating was at the right temperature and for what you could see through the window of your balcony, it seemed like it had snowed last night.
You climbed out of the bed to walk downstairs, too excited to notice the absence of the smell of coffee in the air, the lack of the television sounds, the emptiness so unlikely in your house. On Christmas day you had breakfast with your mom, lunch at the Club, and dinner with your dad. After that, you went to his place, played one of his records and shared a can of soda to celebrate his sobriety. It was one of those days of the year where you felt the most grateful and lucky to have the life you had.
That’s why when you walked into the living room to find the Christmas tree empty you smile fell.
‘Mom?’ Your voice echoed through the house; you were about to walk towards the kitchen when you saw the note on top of the coffee table.
Emergency. Call Dad.
You stood there for a few seconds in shock before you ran fast to the phone. Your fingers shook as you dialled his number while feeling eyes watering. The line beeped. Someone picked up.
‘D-Dad? Daddy? Are you okay?’ You asked with a shaky voice.
‘Hi, flower. Yes. Yes, I’m okay.’ You felt your heart beating fast as he spoke. ‘I’m getting ready to pick you up, okay?’
‘W-What is going on? Where’s mom?’
‘Uh,’ You heard him hold his breath, realizing you didn’t know yet. ‘Martha had an accident last night. She was drunk and hit a tree. Your mom’s at the hospital with the Harringtons right now.’
You let out a deep breath, nodding as if he could see you. You felt so stupid then, as the tears pooled on your eyes. As if you could’ve done something to prevent it.
‘Right. I’ll go get ready.’
‘Okay, flower. I’ll see you in ten minutes.’
‘Okay.’ You said letting out a shaky breath. ‘Okay.’
Your dad parked outside the hospital, the white building looking dreary and lonely surrounded by the snow. You rubbed your hands on your jeans as you tried to warm your hands, but you didn’t think it was the cold what was making you shiver.
You took a deep breath, waiting for your dad to turn the engine off, but the heating was still on, and the car was still filled with silence as you looked at the blue gift bag next to your shoes. You thought maybe the excuse of giving Steve a Christmas present would help with the apology you knew you owed him. But now it seemed like a shallow idea.
‘Dad?’ You said lifting your gaze.
It was then you realised he didn’t want to look at you, making you bend forwards, looking for his eyes. He took his hands to his mouth, hesitating about what to say.
‘I, uh… I can’t go in there, flower. I just can’t go in there.’
You swallowed then, realising the real weight behind his words, the endless fight that you had witnessed throughout the years, from your childhood until now. You nodded silently, grabbing his hand over the console and squeezing hard.
‘Dad, you’re doing great. Christmas is always hard and you’re doing great.’
He shook his head, looking at the way his eyes got lost beyond the windshield. There was a long silence as he still avoided you, before he let out a deep breath.
‘The charity party. Bourbon.’
Your eyes dropped as you remembered that night, the way you left with Steve to save him the embarrassment of seeing his mom drunk. You knew it now; this wasn’t your weight to carry. You’d never get to win. Steve and you would never win.
You opened your mouth to say something, but he spoke first.
‘I’m sorry, flower. I–’ He looked back at you then, reading the hurt in your eyes. ‘I know I’m a terrible dad, but I promise you I haven’t drunk anything else since then. And I try. I want you to know that I try.’
You shook your head, a sad smile on your face as you held his hand again. ‘That’s twenty-five days sober, daddy. It’s good. It’s enough, okay?’
‘Okay.’ He said breathing out. A soft smile lighted up his face then. ‘Thank you, flower. I’ll wait for you here.’
You nodded, letting his hand go, and climbing out of the car to face the coldness that awaited you.
‘There you are.’ Said your mom as soon as you walked into the hallway, blueish lights making you feel sick just by the look of them. She handed you a brown bag and a cup of coffee, and you tried to balance it all out on your hands. ‘Okay so, they’re on the third floor. She left surgery a couple of hours ago, and Roger’s calling the family while I deal with the paperwork of the rehabilitation centre.’
You blinked many times, digesting all the information she rambled about.
‘I’m trying to get hold of some contacts that helped me when you dad got in, so I need you to be useful. Those are for Steve; poor kid hasn’t even eaten since yesterday.’
Your heart beat hard at the mention of his name, thinking about him getting the news, and sitting all alone in this depressing place.
‘…And it’d be nice if you apologized for whatever you said at the Country Club.’ Your eyes lifted to find her looking back at you, tone firm and eyes serious as she spoke. ‘That kid’s been miserable all week. And I hope you’re taking your birth control just like I taught you.’
‘Mom.’ You felt the heat rising to your cheeks then. She started looking for something in her bag, taking out a cigarette case. You felt so stupid for thinking she wouldn’t notice what had been going on.
‘Don’t Mom me.’ She said taking out a cigarette and putting it in her mouth. ‘It’s important. Now go upstairs and be useful, I’m gonna make some calls outside. I need to get out of here, you know how much I hate hospitals.’
He was sitting outside room number 325. You stood outside the elevator like an idiot, feeling the cowardice all over your body and wishing you could just turn back and tell your dad to take you home. But then he lifted his eyes, brown and exhausted, and you had no other option than to walk towards him.
‘Hey.’ You said standing in front of him, he was looking at his shoes while you put the cup of coffee and the brown bag on the table next to him. ‘Mom got you breakfast. She said you haven’t eaten.’
He sniffed quietly, shaking his head. ‘M not really hungry, but thanks.’
You stood straight again, your shoes in front of his as you thought about what to do. Your hands ached to touch him, resting on either side of you, and you hated yourself for the mess you had made, knowing you probably needed him more than he did right now.
‘Steve…’
His head tilted forwards then, crashing softly against your stomach. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to inhale your perfume, hands finding your hips as your fingers instinctively ran through his hair and your pulse ran fast on your ears.
His firm hands wrapped around your hips, and he pulled you in, sitting straight so his head rested against your breastbone, one of your hands finding the back of his neck, and the other stroking his messy hair, leaving soft kisses that wouldn’t fix anything, but he still needed like oxygen.
You stayed there for minutes or hours, whispering I’m sorrys against his scalp while his soft sniffs echoed through the hospital’s hallway.
‘I owe you a can of soda.’ You told your dad as you stood on the threshold of Steve’s house.
He shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it, flower.’
Your hug caught him by surprise, you noticed by the way his arms hesitated before wrapping around you.
‘Merry Christmas, dad.’ You said hugging him tighter. He laughed softly, patting your back.
‘Merry Christmas, flower.’ You took a step back, smiling at him. Even though Steve was already inside he was sure to murmur. ‘You take care of each other, okay?’
You nodded, smiling softly as you put one of your hands on your back pockets while the other held the blue gift bag.
‘Your mom’s coming over later, but if she can’t, make sure to call me.’
‘Sure, sir.’
He smiled at you before making his way to the car.
You closed the door behind you, thinking about the little girl that once walked in wearing her little Prada loafers, how scared she was as she made her way to the living room like you were doing now.
‘Hey.’ You said as you walked in. He was sitting in front of the tree, cross sitting with his back arched looking at the presents.
His eyes looked at you for a second before falling on your wrist.
‘S that for me?’ He asked. The smile on his mouth didn’t reach his eyes, but you could see he had at least found it amusing.
You shrugged. ‘S got your name on it.’
‘Maybe Santa got the wrong address.’ He joked.
‘Maybe he did.’ You agreed, sitting next to him. You removed the bag handle from your wrist and placed the present in front of him. ‘Merry Christmas.’
He bent forwards then, grabbing a green bag from the mess of presents under the tree. You smiled as he placed it in front of you.
‘Merry Christmas.’
The silence was filled with the noise of the bags being opened, childish excitement taking over your body as your curiosity increased.
‘No way.’ You said taking out the pink pyjama set.
‘That’s uh…’ He said lifting the rocket pyjama pants you got for him, a soft laugh leaving his lips. ‘Thank you.’
You smiled at him, eyes looking down at your hands playing wit the pink fabric as you tried to find the right words to say.
‘I, uh… I owe you a huge apology, Steve.’  You licked your lips. When you looked up, his eyes were lost on the patterns of the rug, his pretty brown eyebrows frowning.
 ‘I–’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t want to hear it. I just– It’s been a long day.’
You nodded then, looking away so he wouldn’t notice the way your eyes were getting glossy. You let out a sigh.
‘Okay.’
You wondered is this was how things would be from now on. The warmth you both shared in the hospital now gone, Christmas lights illuminating the room as the blue shades of winter sneaked into the living room. You followed him with you eyes as he stood up, taking the gift bag with him.
‘I’m gonna take a shower, but just make yourself at home, okay?’ He scratched the back of his neck in nervousness as the real weight of exhaustion fell on his shoulders.
You nodded from your place on the floor, seeing him hesitate for a second before walking upstairs.
Your eyes were absently looking at the TV as the sun set outside. Pictures of little Steve hanging from the wall made you bite your lip as you tried to concentrate on the movie, but the unbearable feeling of knowing he was all alone somewhere in the house was making your hands sweaty. So you put your pride aside and climbed the stairs to his bedroom.
You were about to knock the door when it opened. Watery brown eyes and red nose as he sniffed softly. His hair was still wet, and the sight of him wearing a long sleeve top and the rocket pyjama pants would’ve warmed your heart if it wasn’t for the fact that he was crying.
‘Are you okay?’ You whispered, it was a silly thing to ask, but a good excuse to cup his face with your hands. You got closer, brushing your nose with his as his hands found your hips to hug you tight against him. Eyes shut as you cleaned his cheeks with your thumbs.
‘Can you just…’ He breathed out a tired whisper. ‘Can you just stay here, please? I just– I just need you to stay here, and we can just– just go back to normal when this is over, but–’
‘Shhh.’ You said stroking his nose with yours. He opened his eyes to look at you, eyebrows arched as he tried to hold onto you. ‘I’ll take care of it. Let me take care of it, okay?’
He leaned in first, pulling you with him as his needy mouth kissed yours, fingers sneaking under your shirt as you both fell on the bed, and he rolled over to be on top of you.
It was cold. It was quiet. Too many words unsaid as the clothes fell on the floor and you both gave in once more. The taste of his tongue got mixed with his tears as his hands got rid of your underwear, and you let him use you. Your mouth opened to say his name many times, trying to get him to look at you, but every time his mouth found a way to be on yours, shutting you up with sweet desperation.
His breath pattern was getting unusually fast when you felt his dick on your thigh, and you pushed him softly but firm enough to finally break the kiss.
‘I, uh…’ He looked down, eyebrows almost frowning in pain as you tried to look for his gaze. ‘Maybe I c-can’t do this.’
‘Steve. Look at me.’ One of your hands cupped his face, placing his forehead on yours and the other was flat on his chest. ‘Let me see you.’
He looked up at you then, brown pupils confused at the sweetness on yours, glossy eyes staring back at him as you whispered. ‘I’m here. I love you. I’m not going anywhere.’
His eyes turned soft then, shaking his head lightly. ‘Don’t say it if–’
‘I love you.’ You repeated, this time looking for his lips with your mouth as his warmth made you feel needier. ‘And I’m yours. You can fuck me like I’m yours.’
He let out a deep shaky breath that he didn’t know he was holding. His face fell on your neck then, and you released a gasping moan when he finally went inside you.
Your hands held onto his hair as you wrapped your legs around him. His mouth leaving sweet kisses on your neck, drawing a line towards your ear as he fucked you slowly, patiently.
‘loveyou. loveyou. loveyou.’ He repeated, his nose against your cheekbone as he did. ‘Hmm. ‘M never getting tired of tellin’ you. Gonna f-fuck you until it gets into your pretty head.’
You laughed softly, and he took his head out of its hiding place on your neck to look at you. Pretty brown eyes lit up like Christmas lights at the sound of your laugh.
He stared at your body, licking his lips and increasing his speed as your eyebrows arched and your eyelids got heavy with the pleasure. A whispery whine left your lips as you tilted your head, walls squeezing him deliciously.
‘What?’ You were suddenly turning shy at his stare.
‘Just love seein’ you.’ He said. ‘You’re mine, right?’
You nodded as you started moving your own hips, swollen lips partly open as you got lost in the pleasure. He cupped your face momentarily, before inserting two of his fingers inside your mouth. You made sure to make them sloppy for him, holding his wrist with your hands and blinking slowly as you did so. His eyes taking in the beautiful sight in front of him before taking them out to stroke your clit.
‘My good girl.’ He sighed, kissing your temple while he drew the softest circles on your sensitive bud. ‘My sweet girl.’
He placed his forehead on yours again, and your finger drew a line from his cheek to his lips before brushing his mouth with yours. ‘Wanna cum for you. Need you to fuck me harder so I can cum for you.’
He smiled softly, doing as you said, giving into your sweet request that he’d never deny. His tongue found yours as his hips crashed against you firmly, filling the room with the sounds of skin against skin.
He got lost in the way your pretty mouth bit his lower lip, in the way your hands scratched his back as he made sure to give you what you wanted, yielding completely to your overwhelming warmth.
You opened your eyes for him when you felt your walls starting to squeeze, and your breath started to get heavier, nonsense leaving your lips as you tried to tell him, but he was so deep inside you, and you were being fucked so nicely that all you could do was let out those choky moans that drove him crazy.
‘Cum like you’re mine, baby.’ He said. He begged. ‘F-fuck. Cum for me, needy thing.’
Your fingers squeezed the skin on his ribs as you moved your hips, and you rolled your eyes, knowing you were getting close. You tried to instinctively move your head to your side, but Steve held your chin firmly so you would look at him.
‘Uh.’ You gasped. ‘Baby, I’m–’
But you couldn’t finish any sentence until his nose brush with yours and the sweet, innocent peck he gave you finally sent you to the edge.
‘That’s it.’ He kissed your sweaty cheek as your frail body convulsed under his and he reached his own orgasm. ‘That’s it. S-Shit. So good– So good for me.’
You stroked his hair as he hid his head on your neck, body falling on yours and arms wrapping you, catching your breaths as the night fell outside and only the reflection of the snow lit up the room.
Steve sat back to grab the blankets on the end of the bed and wrapped you two in them, coming back to his space between your legs. You could notice the way he avoided your eyes as he fixed your hair, arranging the wild strands that fell on your face.
‘Hey.’ You said playing with the hairs of his chest.
His eyes lifted then, full of doubt as you looked back at him. He was almost expecting you’d take it all back.
But all you did was tilt your head, hand cupping his face and thumb brushing the little stubble that was growing. You felt him relax under your touch, eyes getting soft by the way you were smiling at him.
‘You need a nap.’ You whispered.
‘And you need a shower.’ He said in the same tone.
You laughed softly, but you saw the way his eyes had turned serious again.
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ You said. You’d repeat it as many times as he’d need to hear it.
He moved then, laying on his back and opening his arm so you’d cuddle against him. You saw him swallow hard as you laid on your side, elbow on the pillow and jaw on your hand as you noticed the way his eyes got glossy.
Steve let out a deep breath when your hand drew a line from his forehead to his chin, relaxing under your touch. He took your hand and kissed your palm before holding it against his cheek.
‘Thank you.’ He whispered.
You shook your head. ‘Anytime.’
He smiled softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling your naked body to him. He buried his head on your chest, letting himself be lulled by your smell and the warmth of your skin, brushing your skin with his thumbs.
He closed his eyes as you kissed the soft brown locks of his head, and he fell asleep on your arms, hearing your soft I love yous in the distance, and knowing it was true. Two lonely kids stitching each other’s wounds on Christmas day.
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this is a repost, because i had a few problems with the tags. tagging everyone who kindly interacted with the first post (if you’re not here it’s because tumblr didn’t let me tag you but ily anyways): @claire0531 @liacrain @aurora-austen @stevesbeautifulhair @idontevenlistentomitski @pumpkinonice
I do no consent for people to plagiarise, translate, copy or repost any of my written works anywhere. I do not consent people to use any of my written work for AI purposes.
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steddierthings · 6 months
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Sad Steddie Scenario Part 4
Hiiiiiiiii. Here is the THING I mentioned I had for today. Part 5 should be out later this week (please help me manifest) I've got most of it written. Quick summary since it's been so long - After a disastrous "meet the friends" night with the Hellfire guys, Eddie says some unintentionally cruel things, then decides he and Steve are too different and breaks things off.
CW: a couple of mentions of child abuse
Part One, Part Two, Part Three
____________________________
Steve doesn’t remember much about the week after Eddie breaks up with him. He starts each day with unnamed misery filling his chest, black and viscous. For the first few seconds between sleep and wakefulness, he’s overwhelmed, unable to identify its source. Just as it finally clicks, why he feels like tar is oozing through his body, why he can’t take a full breath, his dad knocks a solid fist onto his door. He’s always had a sixth sense of when Steve is awake and “lollygagging” in bed. He never waits for an answer to his knock, just sticks his head in and says, “Move your ass, Steve. Now.” He doesn’t shut the door again as he leaves, and he doesn’t wait to see if Steve listens to him because there’s never a question in his mind that Steve will.
And every morning, Steve gets up, pushes the misery aside. Never away. It coats his bones and drags him down and doesn’t leave, but it’s paired with a nervy buzzing, an anxious hum that roars through his head whenever his parents are around.
They like him to be present when they’re home. He’s been able to get out of the couple of dinner parties they’ve attended the past few days through sheer luck of being scheduled to close at work, but when they’re not out, they expect him in their eye line at all times. “We never get to see you, Steve,” his mom says one night at dinner, with zero trace of irony. “Is it too much to ask that you not hide away in your room while we’re here? We’ve been visiting all the old crowd. They’ve all asked where you were.”
“If you’re not going to spend time with us,” his dad chimes in, waving a third glass of tequila and soda around haphazardly, “you need to be out pounding pavement trying to find a job. A real job.”
“He’s right, dear. Do you know how embarrassing it was for me to tell LeAnn Perkins, of all people, that you were still at that awful video store? Her daughter is off to Ball State in September. Imagine being embarrassed by someone whose daughter is going to Ball State. Is this what you want for your mother?”
Steve’s pretty sure Ball State is a fine school, one that only a year ago his parents were encouraging him to apply to. He twirls his pasta around his fork and stays quiet.
“Hey!” Steve hears the smack land across the back of his head more than he feels it. “Are you paying attention?”
“Yes, sir.” He keeps his hands still, his eyes on his plate.
“Because you look like you’re bored, Steve. Is your mother boring you?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to your mother.” Steve angles toward his mom, raises his eyes to her forehead instead of making direct contact.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just tired.”
“From what?”
Steve barely holds in a sigh. And so it goes their entire visit.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
The kids know he’s not as available when his parents visit. They think it’s because Steve never gets to see them so he wants to spend time with them - or at least, Steve hopes that’s what they think - and he’s glad of the excuse to keep contact to a minimum. He doesn’t need them asking questions. As it is, the couple of times he does see them—because they all drop by the store at least once—he can tell they know something is up. Mike’s clearly making an effort to be less annoying than normal, Max’s eyes bore holes into him from behind her new Coke bottle glasses, and Dustin tries to corner him while Robin rings Mrs. Henderson up. But Steve does his best to deflect them and is mostly successful.
Robin is harder to evade. She oscillates between encouraging him to talk to Eddie, figure out where everything went wrong, and raging to him that he doesn’t ever need to see Eddie again if he doesn’t want to and she’ll personally ban him from Family Video for life if Steve wants her to. Steve gives her a lot of “can we please stop talking about this?” and “We’re just cooling off, I’ll talk to him soon,” because every time he tries to tell her, the words refuse to leave his mouth. As soon as he tells her they’re over, it’s 100% real, and he can’t bear it.
So he spends the week exhausted, his body cycling through moments of heavy sadness and tense anxiety. Thankfully, his parents leave Wednesday afternoon. Steve doesn’t realize they’re heading out until his mom calls him downstairs to see them off. She takes the opportunity to tell Steve again how disappointed she is in what he’s doing with his life, how embarrassing the entire visit has been for them having to explain to their friends what he’s up to. His dad calls him lazy and a waste of potential.
Sometimes when they talk at him like this, Steve zones out. The buzzing that’s in his head gets so loud he can’t hear what they’re saying. He feels outside his body, loses time. Sometimes he doesn’t come back to himself for an hour or more. This time, he’s pretty sure he’s only lost a few minutes. His parents are gone. He’s curled up on the bathroom floor with no memory of how he got there. He’s clutching the cordless phone, partway through dialing a number from muscle memory, but then he remembers it’s one he’s no longer free to use. He presses the button to end the call lightning quick and tosses the phone far away from him.
It was stupid to think about calling Eddie anyway. Steve’s never told him about his parents, except to say they’re assholes. Never wanted to spoil the time they had together with his poor little rich kid sob story. After they got together, things were so good. Steve was happier than he can ever remember being. The Upside Down shit was over, Robin was planning to take a gap year so she could work and save money, so Steve didn’t have to worry about her leaving just yet. The kids were loud and thriving without the threat of the apocalypse weighing them down. And every time he was with Eddie was so…so perfect, he thought.
Fucking stupid.
He thinks about calling Robin. Whenever he calls her after he has to deal with his parents, she talks and talks and talks, leaving no room for anything in his mind except whatever ridiculous thing she decides to say. She saves all her most ridiculous thoughts for these moments and he loves her so much for it. But it’s not her he wants to talk to.
In the end, he doesn’t have to call anyone. As soon as he finds the strength to get off the floor, there’s a pounding at his front door and a very insistent Dustin Henderson calling out to him to “open up or so help me God—”
“All right, all right!” Steve barely gets the doorknob turned before the kid bursts inside, completely ignoring Steve’s wipe your feet, asshole! as as he blows past him, headed for the kitchen.
“Get in here, Harrington! You owe me a float.”
Steve shakes his head and follows. This might as well happen.
“What for?”
“Uh, what for?” Dustin slides onto a bar stool at the counter and Steve starts assembling the floats. “How about for not answering your walkie? How about for completely ignoring me when my mom and I came to the store the other day? How about for—”
“Do you want a cherry on top?” Steve asks, interrupting Dustin before he can rile himself up more.
“Obviously I want a goddamn cherry, Steve.” Steve pulls out the cherries. He puts the finishing touches on the float and hands one to Dustin, rounding the counter to sit next to him. They spend the next few minutes in blissful silence as they eat. The sugar perks Steve up like nothing has all week and by the time he’s done, he’s feeling almost optimistic. Then Dustin speaks.
“So are we gonna talk about it?” He drums his fingers on his float glass, eyeing Steve pointedly.
Steve sighs. “Talk about what?” Maybe if he plays dumb for long enough, Dustin will get tired and leave him alone.
That could totally happen.
“Why you were crying in the car. Why you’ve been moping around for the past week. Why Eddie hasn’t been returning my calls.”
Steve’s eyes cut to Dustin. “Eddie hasn’t been returning your calls?”
“Or answering the door when I go over, so someone better tell me what the shit is going on or I’m going to have El torture it out of you.”
“Okay, whoa. First off, El would never do that. Second off, you know I was actually tortured, right? You remember that? Not cool, dude.”
“Yeah, I remember that, and you folded like a cheap suit, gave the Russians my full name. So I already know you’re susceptible.”
“They gave me a truth serum!”
“Excuses, Steve. Excuses.” Dustin fixes him with an expectant stare. “So. Why were you crying in the car?”
“I told you it was allergies.”
“Do I look like an idiot?”
Steve tilts his hand from side to side. “Ennnhh.”
“Don’t answer that. I’m going to ask again. Why. Were. You. Crying.” He punctuates each word with a sharp poke to Steve’s chest.
“Jesus, dude! It was allergies! I wasn’t crying.” Steve swats him away and stands up, desperate for some space. But he doesn’t go far, leans on the wall across from the counter. He doesn’t want to talk about this, but maybe he needs to. Robin accuses him of wallowing, shutting himself off when he’s upset. She says it only makes it worse.
Dustin stands up with him, crosses his arms over his chest. “Steve. Are you trying to teach me it’s not okay for boys to cry? Is that the idea of masculinity you want me to have?”
“Oh my god, you’re going to get me in so much trouble.” “Fine. Me and Eddie broke up, okay?”
“What, when you came to pick us up?”
“Yeah.”
“What the fuck, Steve?”
“That’s what I said!”
“What did you do?”
“Okay, asshole. I didn’t do shit.” He bangs the back of his head lightly against the wall in frustration. “Or I may have done shit, I don’t know. Robin and I tried to figure it out, but we couldn’t.”
“So why don’t you tell me what happened? I’m the smartest person you know. I can help way better than Robin.”
“I don’t know, man. Feels wrong to talk to you about it with you.”
“I talk to you about my problems with Suzie! Why can’t you talk to me about your problems with Eddie?”
“I don’t know, it’s just different! I don’t know Suzie. You know Eddie. Feels like I’m gossiping behind his back or something.”
“Who else are you going to talk to then? Everyone you know hangs out with Eddie. Including Robin.” Dustin’s voice goes soft. “Come on, man. Let me help. You’re always helping me. I’ve been in a relationship for a whole year. Suzie and I are very happy. I know things!”
“I know you do, Henderson. But I don’t think I can talk about it right now. I’m really…I’m just really fucking sad.” That’s it. Steve’s really fucking sad. It feels stupid to be this sad with all they’ve been through. Selfish, indulgent. But three weeks ago he’d spent his days listening to his boyfriend jam out in his car, or watching him bounce around his room while he tried to explain a fantasy game, or cuddling up next to him in bed, whispering sweet words that Steve never thought anyone would say to him. And maybe it had been too soon, but he’d honestly thought he’d be doing those things for the rest of his life. But now that was all gone and he has no idea why.
“I thought we were doing okay,” he says to Dustin. “It was the same with Nancy. I thought things were fine, and then it blew up in my face. I don’t know why this keeps happening. It’s even worse with Eddie, though.”
“Why’s that?” He says it so gently, in a way he never is, that Steve has to take a minute. He swipes a hand across his mouth, breathes in hard before he can continue.
“Me and Nancy,” he says. “We were never going to work out. We don’t want any of the same things. And she liked me at first, but I think she was just trying to cut loose by being with me, break out of her shell or whatever. But Eddie, I thought he actually liked me, you know? He always wanted to show me stuff, play me a song he was writing, teach me the Dragon game, get my opinion on tattoos he wanted. And he never thought anything I said was stupid. Guess I was being stupid, though.”
“Steve.”
But Steve can’t take it anymore. He gives himself a shake, pushes against the wall to stand up straight. “Shit, man, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have unloaded all that on you.”
“I’m glad you did. You never let me help you with stuff like this. I want to help.” Steve reaches out, tugs Dustin close. Dustin presses his face into Steve’s shoulder and mutters something against it that Steve doesn’t quite catch. Steve pulls back enough to look down at him, but not enough to let him go.
“What was that?”
“I said, do you want me to skip Hellfire tomorrow? I will. I’m on your side, Steve.” Steve marvels at him. How did he find this kid? How did he get so lucky?
“No, that’s…I don’t want you to do that, I promise.” Dustin squints up at him, skeptical, but Steve gives him a reassuring smile and ruffles his hair. “I promise.”
“If you say so,” Dustin says.
Steve finally lets him go. He glances around at his empty house and back to Dustin, who’s clearly still upset. Part of him wants to go back to bed. Forget about his parents, forget about Eddie. But a bigger part of him wants to say fuck all the angst and watch some space teddy bears with his friend.
“You wanna stay over tonight?” he asks. “I could use the company. We can watch Star Wars.”
Dustin’s face lights up and he places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, clutching the other one dramatically to his chest. “Steve. I would be honored.”
______________________________________________
Next up: A confrontation at Hellfire! Sorry I didn't tag anyone, the tag list just got way too overwhelming. Thank you for reading! Reblogs appreciated!
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thelostmagicians · 5 months
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Love Comes In Threes | Steve Harrington
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Summary: Steve Harrington loves you, he just can't say it. [2k]
Fluff, comfort, slight angst, emotionally/verbally constipated Steve
The last time Steve Harrington said I love you to someone she ripped out his heart and left with the boy she told him not to worry about. 
He doesn’t remember the last time he said it to his parents, only that he stopped trying after he kept getting the dial tone in response to his feelings. 
So you weren’t exactly surprised or upset when he kissed you instead of saying it back 6 months into your relationship. 
_
The first time you said I love you to Steve it was a stormy evening. The both of you agreed to take things slow, wounds from the past still open and healing. But he just looked so handsome that night with his hair tousled in a perfect mess, red creeping on his cheeks from the cold air as the both of you raced towards his car trying to protect yourselves from the rain. He turned the heat on as he took your hands in his in an effort to warm you up. You tried to hold it in, you swear you did, but the love you had for him weighed down on you like an anchor and you thought if you didn’t tell him that second you were going to drown in your own feelings. 
“I love you,” you had whispered as he continued rubbing his fingers over yours. He paused his actions, shyly looking up. The red on his cheeks could no longer be blamed on the cold because now he was feeling as the sun was glowing warm in his heart. 
“You sure?” he asked you. Instead of answering you kissed him, hoping your lips would act as a spout and pour how you felt directly into him.   
You knew that like you, Steve had been hurt in the past so when he pulled you in for another kiss instead of saying it back you never questioned him. 
_
But that was a year ago. 
Almost two years into the relationship and Steve still hasn’t said I love you back. Every time he hears it fall from your lips, he’ll just give your hand a squeeze and carry on. You want to think it isn’t a big deal. You try to convince yourself that the L word isn’t necessary in your relationship, not when you share a home, a bed, secrets, and, hopefully, a family in the future. But no matter how hard you try to ignore your feelings it still leaves you disappointed when you see couples everywhere throw the three words around like they’re playing catch. It’s an endless cycle of disappointment for not hearing it, guilt for questioning the love Steve has for you, and frustration for why it mattered so much.
“As someone who Steve previously loved, do you think he actually loves me or is he just… settling?”
Your question makes Nancy freeze, the book she was previously trying to shove back in the shelf falls with a loud thud. She throws an apologetic smile at the librarian who shakes her head in disapproval. 
“What are you even talking about?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I brought it up. But I was just thinking, Steve loved you Nance. He told you he loved you. It’s been years and people still remember how broken he was after you left. Like if I left would he be just as sad or would he be okay.”
“Are you planning on leaving Steve?” Nancy stutters out.
“Well no…definitely no. It just makes me wonder if people can see that Steve loves me or if they think of me as the passerby keeping him from you while you were the one that got away. Whenever I tell someone I’m dating Steve all I ever hear is good on him for moving on, poor thing was a wreck after Nancy Wheeler left.”
Nancy picks up her stack of books as she leads you to the front desk, “Look what Steve and I had was over before we both even realized it was over. He loves you, I think… I think he loves you more than he could’ve ever loved me. And why do you even care what people think? These are the same people who think Robin is a sinner and that my parents are happily married.”
You roll your eyes in affection as you help her with her books. “I guess you’re right…” you trail off as your eye catches a magazine. In big bold letters you read 100 Different Signs Your Man Loves You.
“Oh please you can’t be serious.”
You give her a sheepish smile as you check out your rental and head back home. 
The magazine was utter trash. It had nothing, but surface value declarations that did nothing to soothe your worries. You stopped reading after sign 8 when it said Ladies if your man compliments your cooking, then it means he’s thinking about locking it down! Because remember a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach!
Your Steve wasn’t like this. Your Steve was the kind of guy who knew you were having a bad day before you even had the chance to tell him. Your Steve was the kind of guy who would willingly wake up early and go out into snow just to heat up your car so you won’t have to drive in the cold. 
You sigh as you toss the magazine in the back of the car making a mental note to drop it off at the library on your way to pick up Robin for your girls day.
You honk twice in front of Vickie’s house before Robin comes bolting down the driveway, shoes in hand and trying to wrestle her jacket on. She gives you a wave before climbing in and greeting you with a tight hug. 
“I see your sleepover went well,” you tease. 
Before she can tease back Vickie knocks on the window prompting Robin to roll it down. 
“Hi, Vickie” you smirk up at her, eyes darting to the purple bruise under her ear that she poorly tried to conceal with makeup. 
She waves shyly, “Robin… I forgot to say,” she looks at you nervously, “Nevermind, just I’ll see you tomorrow.” She quickly kisses Robin’s cheek and scurries back inside. 
“So… what was that whole thing with Vickie about?” you try to ease in. 
Robin bumps her head on the window when you pull into a parking spot, “Oh Vickie? She’s still nervous about saying the L word publicly so that’s what she was doing.”
“At least she’s saying it privately,” you huff under your breath. 
“What was that?”
“Oh, nothing, I was just asking how she says it in public if she isn’t comfortable?”
“You know the cheek kisses she gave, that was it.”
You quickly put the shirt you’re holding back on the rack before looking at Robin confused. “What do you mean, is that your guys’ secret language?”
Robin laughs, pulling up a skirt to herself. “No silly, haven’t you ever heard the saying love comes in threes. When you touch someone three consecutive times it’s the equivalent of I. Love. You. Hence three cheek kisses equal an I love you.”
“That’s so cute,” you squeal, squeezing her arm and testing it out for yourself. 
She squeezes back instantly, “I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it, considering Steve’s the one that introduced me to it.”
Your steps falter behind her. “Hang on, Steve? My Steve, told you that?”
“Yeah, he said his Nana used to do it when they were kids or something like that. Told me before I told Vickie I loved her. Do you think this skirt is cute or should I save my money for a Madonna tape?”
Robin keeps rambling as you stay in place, your thoughts spiraling. Her confession makes you think about every single time Steve’s ever touched you. Every morning before you part ways how he pecks your lips once, twice, and a little longer the third time. How he squeezes your waist three times when he walks past you to get his favorite mug. How he reaches for your thigh, hand, anything he can get ahold of just to get three squeezes in. How he taps your arm in his sleep, again always in threes. You would stay up trying to figure out what song his taps represent before eventually drifting off yourself.   
This whole time you were waiting for Steve to verbally express his love when he was doing it quietly in his own way, more often than you ever did. 
You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel a tear slowly drip down your neck. 
“Hey what’s wrong are you okay?” Robin asks frantically. She drops her bags, hands squeezing your arms and eyes darting around for any signs of danger. 
You nod through your tears, “I’m okay, can we just go. I have to get home, I know it’s crazy but…”
Robin nods, grabbing your arm and leading you to the exit. 
The car ride back home is quiet, Robin didn’t even whisper a goodbye when she left simply settling with a quick peck to your forehead and soft smile. 
Your thoughts feel overwhelming like everything is going a mile a minute when you think about Steve. You think about your first date, your second, and your third and so on. How Steve ended every night with three of something. 
Your body is on autopilot as you make your way through the front door. Keys tossed in the bowl, coat hung up, and shoes thrown off. 
“Hey baby, you alright? Robin called asking if you were okay.” A concerned Steve comes into your vision, he quickly wipes his hands on the kitchen towel before flinging it over his shoulder and kissing you. Once, twice, and thrice.
Your hard stare makes him nervous, he’s never seen you like this before. “Honey,” he whispers out.
You take a deep breath in, “You never said I love you to me, not after I said it first, not even when you asked me to move in.” You pause trying to compose yourself while Steve avoids your gaze. “This whole time I thought you didn’t love me like you should, that you loved me, but you weren’t in love with me.”
Steve lifts his head up, baffled, he goes to argue until you lift your hand up signaling him to wait. 
“Robin told me something about how love comes in threes, today. How three taps, or any kind of touch in rapid succession three times is the equivalent of an I love you,” he finally meets your gaze as you slowly walk over to him, tugging on his waist to hold him as close as possible. “You told me you loved me on our first date, you told me the night we had our first kiss, you told me on our anniversary. And you tell me everyday. I don’t think there’s an hour that goes by without you telling me.”
Steve pulls you into his chest before gently lifting your head and kissing you three times. You giggle at the not-so-secret-anymore gesture. “I’m trying. I really am trying hard to say it, but I do. I really do. I want you to know how important you are, but I’m also scared. So I guess this was my way of saying it, reminding myself that when I do eventually say the words… you won’t leave.” 
“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry for not seeing your love. For not understanding that even though you love me quietly you love me the most. Your love is in the tiny but grand gestures that I take for granted, but would miss deeply if I didn’t have it. I don’t need the words anymore Steve, I just need you because you love me more than I ever thought was possible and that’s enough. You’re enough.”
He squeezes your shoulder three times before whispering the words you’ve always wanted to hear from him. 
They say love comes in threes and your love with Steve may be quiet, but it’s everywhere. 
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