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worth-the-chaos · 2 days

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Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 16

Chapter Summary: For all your encounters with the Upside Down you hadn’t had to deal with it directly. Now, in a fight in foreign territory, you and your friends must struggle to find your way back to the Hawkins that you are familiar with.

Content Warning: swearing, upside down freaky shit, blood/injury, trauma, angst

Word Count: 9.7k

Author’s Note: Yo sorry this has taken a while for me to finish, life has been low key a bit of a bummer recently. Also, (from the time I posted this) about 20 minutes ago I nearly deleted this. Like all of it. In a way that would have been borderline unrecoverable. So I think I deserve a cookie and a pat on the back for not doing that.

Message me to be added to the taglist and get updated when the next chapter is posted! I highly recommend this if you want to keep up with the story since I don’t do regular updates!

Series Masterlist | Part 15 | Next Part

***

The water stung your eyes and you could only make out blurry shapes. You had never been the strongest swimmer and you were scared out of your mind that you would drown before you made it to Steve, but you didn’t care as you kicked your legs as hard as you could. You could make out red light radiating from a spot on the bottom of the lake and you redirected yourself towards it. That had to be the gate that Steve had seen, and he was no doubt on the other side of it, fighting for his life.

You pushed through the permeable membrane of the gate that seemed to pulse as if it was alive, shoving your way into the unknown. You were immediately met with the frigid sting of the cold air, but you could barely feel it as your eyes were immediately glued to your boyfriend, being attacked by several bat-like creatures.

“Steve!” You shouted as your instincts kicked in, grabbing an oar from a shipwrecked boat and smacking one of the creatures away from his side. The winged monster screeched and it was nearly enough to make your ears bleed. Suddenly, Robin, Nancy, and Eddie were right behind you, each with their own improvised weapons.

“Quick! Hold it, Robin!” Nancy shouted as her friend moved you pin the bat strangling your boyfriend down. Both you and Nancy continued to strike it with all of your might in an attempt to get it to release its grip around Steve’s neck but it seemed like it was no use.

“Come on!” You shouted, your eyes welling with tears as you became increasingly panicked by the second. You made eye contact with Eddie, your eyes begging for him to intervene. “Do something!” You yelled out, though you weren’t quite sure if your words were meant for your friends or yourself.

You could hear Steve struggling for air as he continued to choke under the pressure of the strangulation. And you felt your heart sink halfway to hell at the way his legs were flailing in every direction, his hands in an iron clad grip on the creature’s tail wrapped around his neck.

“Y/n! Behind you!” Eddie yelled out and all of the sudden you were knocked off kilter by a force from behind, claws digging into the tender skin of your back through your soaking wet clothes. You screamed out in pain, desperately reaching behind you trying to pry the thing off, but it was to no avail.

“Robin! Help!” You shrieked and she grabbed onto the bat’s tail, yanking at it harshly. You cried out in pain as her efforts to remove the monster caused its talons to dig further into your skin as it resisted her attempt to thwart its attack.

She finally was able to yank it free, slamming it into the ground as Nancy struck it with her oar. You turned to see that Steve was now standing and you almost cried out in relief that he was okay, but you were still very much in the thick of the fight and you weren’t about to celebrate too soon.

Steve continued slamming the bat back and forth on the ground until he finally stepped on one of its wings, pulling aggressively on its tail causing the monster to be ripped in two. He panted as he attempted to regain control of his breathing.

“Steve!” You called you, running towards your boyfriend as tears welled in your eyes. Your hands hovered over his body, afraid to touch him as you took in the sight of all of his wounds. He had deep gashes on his abdomen, skin missing from where the bats had been feeding on him. Your breath started to pick up, beginning to panic at the extent of his injuries. You didn’t care if you were the one to get hurt, but seeing Steve injured like that in such a life threatening scenario was enough to make you break down. “Baby,” your lip wobbled and a tear rolled down your cheek as you looked him in the eyes.

“Are you okay?” Nancy frantically asked, her eyes scanning over Steve’s body to assess the damage, gasping as she understood the severity.

“They took about a pound of flesh,” Steve replied and goosebumps erupted over your entire body, “but other than that, never better.”

Steve looked you in the eye as he added the last bit, clearly attempting to calm you down. Inside he was absolutely scared shitless, but he figured the better he did at maintaining a calm exterior, the less upset you would be. You didn’t even know how to respond, so instead of trying to formulate any words, you decided to pull him in for a gentle hug, being careful not to disturb his wounds.

He pulled you in tighter, not caring about his injuries and just needing more than anything to hold onto you. He swayed side to side as he rested his chin on the top of your head, knowing that whatever pain and scarring that followed was worth it if it meant that all of his efforts would contribute to saving your life.

“Uh, do you guys think that these bats have, like, rabies?” Robin suddenly spoke up. She was crouched down, inspecting a creature’s lifeless body.

“What?” Steve asked as his face contorted in confusion. Everyone turned to look at her with a very similar expression, her question seeming so out of place given everything that had just transpired.

“It’s just that rabies are like my number one greatest fear and I think we should probably get you to a doctor really soon because once the symptoms set in, it’s too late; you’re already dead,” she rambled on. Before anyone could respond to her, more screeching rang out from above you. Several more bats were flying in, no doubt responding to the casualties of their fellow creatures at the hands of trespassers. They flocked to the opening of the gate, sitting perched on the mess of vines, waiting for the next thing that unwittingly found itself stuck in this alternate dimension.

“Alright. There’s not that many. We can take ‘em, right?” Steve breathed out, gently nudging you behind him to protect you. You curled an arm around his, desperately clinging to him. In the past, every time you had fought off the supernatural, it had been on home turf. You were afraid of the odds now that they had the home advantage.

In the distance, more nauseating shrieks sounded off and through the lightning in the unnaturally red sky, you could see an entire swarm of the bat-like creatures approaching. “You were saying?” The words escaped your lips as you stared in awe at the monsters.

“The woods! Come on!” Nancy pointed toward the thicket of crooked branches, and the five of you took off running. You sprinted as fast as your legs could take you, but being less than coordinated, you stumbled a bit as you tried to keep up with your athletic boyfriend. He was quick to help you right yourself, making sure you were in front of him until you reached the tree line.

He felt his heart nearly stop when he noticed the blood soaking through the back of your shirt. He immediately felt guilt swarm in his emotions, wishing that he hadn’t brought you into this mess. Everything he did was to make sure you wouldn’t get hurt, and here he was, bringing you straight into the crossfire.

You had reached the forest, slowing down to a quick walk as you made your way farther and farther into the woods. You were still trying to catch your breath from running when Steve spoke up.

“Baby, your back,” his voice cracked a little as the words came out, and you could tell that he was mentally kicking himself for that fact that you had gotten hurt.

“Oh, Steve, it’s okay,” he opened his mouth to protest but you were quick to cut him off, “seriously. It doesn’t even really hurt; I swear.” It was a lie, but he didn’t need to know that. Besides, it’s not like you hadn’t gotten ripped to shreds by an inter dimensional creature in the past. This was not your first rodeo.

He stared at you in disbelief, but didn’t argue. “Let me see it at least,” he offered a compromise, to which you couldn’t really say no. You walked a few steps ahead of him and lifted up your shirt, revealing the expanse of your back. Steve struggled to swallow the lump in his throat as he assessed the damage. Deep gashes littered your back and it was caked in blood that was beginning to dry. You shivered as the cool air hit your skin, and Steve hurried towards you to pull your shirt back down.

He thought about the scars on your arm from the Byers’ living room. He thought about the way that he had just let you go back into that house. Steve had never quite gotten over the guilt of not immediately running back in to help you. He thought back to how your immediate instinct had been to care for others, always acting in compassion and selflessness.

“Y/n, what are you doing?”

“Steve, we can’t leave, are you kidding me? They’re in way over their heads. They need help.”

“It’s too dangerous. I don’t want you in there. It’s not up for discussion,” Steve argued, stepping around the door and reaching out to grab your wrist again. You quickly stepped back, pulling your hands out of his reach.

“Y/n, you’re not going back in there. I’m not joking.”

“Neither am I,” you shot back, turning back towards the door. You heard him call out your name again, but you were already through the front door, back in the discomfort of the Byers’ family room.

Steve watched you enter the house and felt his chest tighten. He couldn’t quite place the feeling because he’d never quite felt that way before. It was like a deeply rooted panic; like something was about to go horribly wrong.

He tried to shove it aside as he fumbled with his keys again, pulling the car door open. His heart still felt like it was sinking in his chest. His mind quickly flashed to how surprised he had been that you had knocked on his door. He thought about the fact that you must’ve walked all over town trying to find the Henderson boy. He thought about the fact that you had responded in compassion rather than condescension when he told you about what happened with Nancy.

You had every reason to not give him the benefit of the doubt, but you did anyway. He looked back at the house once more and the lights suddenly came to life, haphazardly flashing in a display of colorful chaos. With each flash of color, he could see your silhouette outlined through the shades adorning the front window of the Byers’ residence. By all accounts you should have been trembling, scared out of your mind, but to Steve you looked stoic.

He had a feeling that this was just the beginning of your story together, and he wasn’t about to let it end prematurely. He slammed the car door shut and sprinted towards the front door.

When he threw it open, he was thrust into the middle of the attack. His heart stopped when he noticed the way you were pinned to the floor, shrieking in pain as the creature’s claws were digging roughly into the skin of your arm.

“Give me that!” Steve yelled, ripping the bat out of Jonathan’s hand. He had been staring dumbfounded at the monster, petrified by his own fear. Steve reared back and swung as hard as he could, landing a solid hit to the creature’s side and knocking it off balance. He would never be able to describe the relief he felt as he saw you roll out of the way, no longer confined to the monster’s viselike hold.

Seeing the gashes on your back now just reminded him of the fact that had he acted sooner, had he simply followed you back in the house immediately rather than nearly bailing on you, the scars that littered your arm wouldn’t even be there. You’d have been safe. You wouldn’t have passed out and needed to go to the hospital. You wouldn’t have had to continue wearing long sleeves in public to avoid stares and questions.

You would have been okay.

But he didn’t go back in immediately. And now you had more scars because he didn’t just get out of the damn water quick enough.

Suddenly your voice registered in his consciousness, and he whipped his head around to attend to it.

“Steve? Hey, baby, you disappeared for a second there. Are you okay?” you inquired, staring up at him with the sweetest look on your face, so sweet in fact that Steve could’ve probably dropped to one knee and proposed right then and there. Guilt tore at his chest in a way that was much more painful that the physical damage those bats had done.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. No, I’m fine; just thinking, is all,” he replied, trying his best to sound nonchalant, not really needing you to know the weight he had been carrying since that fateful day.

You didn’t really believe him, but there wasn’t really time to talk about it as the bats had reached the tree line and you all had to break out into a sprint to avoid another attack.

***

You all crouched under Skull Rock in the Upside Down and you couldn’t help but feel uneasy at how weird it all was. You thought about all the time that Will spent in this place and you felt like you could throw up. He was just a kid. You were basically an adult and you could barely handle being down there; you couldn’t imagine how he had been able to survive it.

For your sanity, you shoved the thought away.

The shrieking of the bats dissipated as they finally cleared from the area. “That was close,” Robin sighed, releasing the breath she’d been holding as you all stood up.

“Yeah, too close,” Eddie complained, his eyes wide considering the fact that he was thrust into all of this. The rest of you had at least had enough experience with all of this crazy shit that nothing could really surprise you too much anymore. You were sure that Eddie was probably about to go insane with the impossibility of it all.

Suddenly, Steve stumbled, falling harshly against the side of the rock formation as he tried to steady himself.

“Steve?!” You shouted out, running to your boyfriend as he pushed himself back to a somewhat upright position.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he promised you, but you weren’t believing it for a second.

“No, no, no. You’re not. You’re losing blood!” You cried out, tears beginning to cloud your vision. “Come on; sit, please,” you begged him. Combined with the fact that he could barely stand anyway, your teary eyes were enough to make him comply. You tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of your shirt, hesitating as you looked at the severity of his wound.

You sniffled a bit before asking him, “you ready?”

“Just do it,” he replied, squeezing his eyes shut as he awaited the pain he knew would inevitably follow as you bandaged his injury. His heart broke at your whispered apologies as you wrapped the fabric tightly around his torso. After you secured the fabric, you leaned into him, wrapping him in a tight hug. You placed a small and gentle kiss to his neck before pulling away. “Thank you,” he whispered, and he wasn’t sure if he was thanking you for the bandage or the show of affection, but he decided it was both.

“So, uh,” your attention was drawn to Eddie, who had climbed on top of Skull Rock, “this place is like Hawkins but with monsters and nasty shit?”

“Pretty much,” you answered as you wrapped an arm around Steve’s back to brace him while he regained his balance. Eddie paused for a moment before he began to get down. “Wait! Watch out for the vines!” You were quick to add before he could even take a single step.

“It’s all a hive mind,” Nancy quickly explained, recognizing just how dire this situation could become. You didn’t know what you were supposed to do if one of you misstepped and brought on an army of monsters directly fucking to you.

“It’s what?”

“All of the creepy crawlies around here, dude. They’re like one or something. You step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna,” Steve explained and though it wasn’t the most eloquent explanation, Eddie got the point and carefully maneuvered around the vines covering the iconic rock. If Steve had cared even a modicum more about school, he could probably tutor Eddie way better than you could.

“But everything from our world is still here right? Like besides the people?” Robin asked, her mind quickly trying to hatch a plan.

“As far as I understand, yeah,” you confirmed, looking at her with a bit of hope forming in your chest at the way her gears were clearly turning.

“So, theoretically, we could go to the police station and get guns and grenades and whatever we need to blow up those bat things that are guarding the gate.”

“I highly doubt that the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin, but guns, yeah sure,” Steve responded, a hint of annoyance in his voice. You shot him a look that screamed “be nice” but you decided that you would give him a little bit of slack considering the fact that he was probably about two minutes away from dying if you guys didn’t show up when you did to save him. You felt like you could vomit at the thought.

“We don’t have to go all the way downtown for guns, I have guns…in my bedroom,” Nancy spoke up and looked between all of you.

“You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns—plural—in your bedroom?” Eddie asked incredulously. Eddie didn’t know the half of it. Wait until he found out that you had guns too (but Steve didn’t really know about that either).

“A Russian Makarov and a revolver,” Nancy confirmed.

“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one,” you reminded her, your mind flashing back to the way she’d pointed the revolver in your face as you had tried to deescalate the situation. In hindsight, there was absolutely no way in hell that you could have calmed that situation down.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Nancy replied sheepishly, and you just shot her a smile that let her know that she was forgiven…it would be kind of hard not to forgive her given the circumstances. Suddenly, something flashed across your face as Eddie’s denim vest hit Steve across the chest with a thud.

“For your modesty,” he glared at your boyfriend and you couldn’t help but chuckle. The levity didn’t last long as the ground began to shake. You stumbled, nearly falling, but Steve caught you and pulled you into him as you both braced yourself agains the side of the rock. You spun around in his arms, burying your face in his chest and clinging to him. Everything about this place was so unpredictable; he was your only constant.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” Steve whispered into your ear as the ground continued to rumble and ripple underneath your feet. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere, baby. I love you.” He placed a small kiss to your temple. You tried to take deep breaths to calm down, beginning to settle as you focused on the way that Steve’s arm felt around you. You tried to imagine yourself in his bed, lying together on a lazy Saturday morning, pressed into his bare chest.

The earthquake slowed to a stop and snarling and screeching sounded in the distance. You shuddered, goosebumps erupting over your entire body as you pressed yourself further into Steve.

“So guns seem like a pretty good idea to me,” Eddie finally spoke up, Robin nodding aggressively beside him as they both began sitting up from their place on the ground. You took a deep breath as you looked up at Steve, worry tugging at the corners of your lips. There was so much you wanted to say to him as you looked up into his brown eyes, but instead, you pulled away, grabbing his hand and pulling him alongside you as you and your friends took off towards Nancy’s house.

***

Steve watched as you walked ahead of him, talking with Nancy and Robin as you tried to formulate a more thorough game plan. While you all considered what ifs and discussed the pertinent unknowns about the Upside Down, Steve fell into step with Eddie.

“Hey, Eddie,” Steve finally spoke up to get his attention, “Hey, man, I just want to say thanks…for saving my ass back there.”

“Shit, you saved your own ass, man,” Eddie replied, “I mean, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there.”

“Ozzy?”

“When you took a bite out of that bat.” When Steve looked at him confused, Eddie continued, “Ozzy Osbourne? Black Sabbath? He bit a bat’s head off onstage? You know?”

“No.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddie trailed off, shaking his head. “It’s very metal what you did, that’s all I’m saying...Y/n told me you were a badass—insisted on the matter, in fact.”

“Wait, she said that?” Steve confirmed, not quite believing his ears. Though he hated to admit it, he couldn’t help but feel jealousy deep within his chest when he thought about the fact that you were tutoring Eddie.

Steve always just thought about all the times that he would quiz you to help you prepare for tests and how cute you looked when you were trying to remember something. Or how you were so sweet and patient with him when he was barely going to graduate and you helped him get a high enough mark in his history class. To know that Ms. O’Donell had set you and Eddie up as study buddies was nearly enough to make his blood boil. How long was it going to take you to realize that he wasn’t good enough for you anymore? How long was it going to be until you decided you needed something new and exciting, like resident bad boy Eddie Munson?

“Are you kidding? She worships you, dude,” Eddie explained, “you have no idea…it’s kind of annoying, to be honest. I don’t know why I care what she thinks, but, uh, guess I got a little jealous, Steve.”

Steve whipped his head up, anger beginning to grow in his chest as he tried to decipher what Eddie meant. Was he jealous because he was into you? Because that was simply not going to happen.

“I guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude,” Eddie continued. Steve released the breath he’d been holding as he realized Eddie’s jealousy lied elsewhere. “Rich parents, popular, chicks love him. Not a douche? No way, man. No way. That like flies in the face of all the laws in the universe, and my own personal Munson doctrine.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He was honestly a bit flattered by Eddie’s statement because it confirmed that he had changed for the better. Steve never felt like he was enough for you, but maybe—just maybe—he was becoming the kind of person that could be. Eddie quickly pulled him out of his thoughts as he leaned in and spoke up again.

“Still super jealous as hell, by the way. Which is why I would never have jumped in that lake to save your ass. Not under any, uh…normal circumstances. Nope. Outside of D&D I am no hero; I see danger and I just turn heel and run, or at least that’s what I’ve learned about myself this week.”

“Give yourself a break, man,” Steve gave Eddie a sympathetic look. He wasn’t quite sure if he was saying it for Eddie’s benefit or his own as his mind flashed back to the way he was about to run that fateful day at Jonathan’s house.

“See, the only reason I came in here was ‘cause those ladies came in straight after you,” Eddie explained, his expression set in a way that made it clear he was serious. He gestured ahead to the three of you girls, walking alongside each other. “I was too ashamed to be the one that stayed behind. But y/n? She didn’t waste a second. She just dove right in. That was as unambiguous a sign of true love as these cynical eyes have ever seen.”

Steve felt his stomach drop at Eddie’s words as he thought about the lengths you would go to keep him safe. It didn’t sit right with him and he was internally panicking at the thought of you putting yourself in harm’s way for him. His thoughts were interrupted as the ground began shaking again. His heart stopped as he watched the way that you refused to brace yourself, instead bounding forward into the clearing just past the trees. In the distance, you could see Nancy’s house and your stomach dropped at the sight of it. There wasn’t any way to describe it other than that it looked…wrong.

You jumped a bit as you felt a hand on your shoulder, relaxing slightly as you realized it was just Steve. You turned and looked up into his brown eyes, worry etched across your face. He looked tired and you knew that you probably looked the same. You were racing against time and fate and you weren’t sure this was the type of disaster that you would both make it out on the other side.

This time felt like an ending, and it felt inevitable. You shoved the thought down and swallowed the lump in your throat as you turned away and pushed forward.

“Hey,” you heard Steve’s voice as you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, slowing you down slightly. The rest of the group continued on, clearly reading the tension in the air and wanting no part in it.

“What?” The word came out more exasperated than you had originally intended. You could see Steve bristle at your attitude, and you watched as he took a deep breath, clearly trying to push aside his irritation.

“I just…you…you’re like really being impulsive right now, okay?” Steve finally settled on the words, knowing that they were probably very much the wrong ones, and his voice was tinted with annoyance. He hated that he felt like he couldn’t just talk to you; he never used to feel that way.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Your eyes narrowed as a quiet rage built in your chest.

Steve looked at you for a second, his eyes wandering across your face as he took the time to think about what he really wanted to say, his conversation with Eddie at the forefront of his mind.

“Eddie told me about how you dove in right after me. You can’t do that shit, y/n.” Steve warned you, his voice low as he tried to stay calm.

You scoffed, in disbelief of the words coming out of your boyfriend’s mouth. “Are you serious right now? What the hell did you expect me to do, Harrington? I wasn’t going to fucking let you drown! If-if we hadn’t gotten there when we did, you would have…” your voice trailed off, unable to verbalize the fate that Steve had narrowly avoided.

“It doesn’t matter, y/n,” Steve shook his head at you, his eyes locked onto yours. “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you. Especially if it was because you were trying to protect me. I want to protect you.”

“How is that fair, Steve?” Your eyes began welling up with tears, the anger slipping away from your tone replaced with a deeply rooted sorrow that tore at your chest.

“None of this is fair,” Steve’s voice failed him as his words came out in a whisper. It was weird standing across from him in this moment. Suddenly you felt like the girl that knocked on his door that November evening your sophomore year. You felt a pang in your chest as you thought about the chaos that brought you together, doubt creeping up in your throat.

Did Steve only love you because you were just victims of circumstance? If none of that had ever happened, would you have just been some girl he wouldn’t take the time to care to remember? How long was it going to be before he woke up and realized that there was someone better than you out there for him?

How long would it be until he was no longer yours?

A tear rolled down your cheek and you felt guilt flood your veins as Steve wiped it away, his hand moving to cup your face as he looked into your eyes. You tried and failed to swallow the lump in your throat, a small sob escaping your lips as you squeezed your eyes shut tight and turned your head to the side. Looking at him with all that love in his eyes was too much to bear.

“Hey, hey, hey,” his voice was soft as he brought his other hand underneath your chin to bring you back to him. “Would you please just look at me baby? Come on, let me see those pretty eyes.”

You were falling apart and you didn’t know how anything or anyone could pick up the pieces.

“Talk to me,” his voice was a whisper. “Please.”

Your eyes were still shut tight, but you could feel his lips ghost over the skin of your neck as he dipped his head down to place a gentle kiss below your ear. His hands had dropped from your face, pulling at your waist until you were pressed together. He swayed gently from side to side, moving to cradle the nape of your neck in his hand as you buried your face in his neck. You inhaled deeply, trying to take in his scent, the only familiar thing about this foreign land.

“I’m just scared,” you whispered, gasping in air afterwards, barely in control of your own voice. You finally looked up at him and your watery eyes were enough for him to break.

“Me too,” he admitted. You took a deep breath and pulled away from him. He nodded at you and reached out to grab your hand while you rejoined your friends who were a ways ahead of you now. You were glad they were willing to give you guys the privacy you needed to figure out all of your bullshit emotions. Young love was usually messy, but it typically didn’t involve monsters and near death experiences. As Steve walked beside you, you noticed the deep bruise around his neck and thought back to the viselike grip that bat had him in and you shuddered.

When you reached Nancy’s front door you felt nauseous as you watched the way vines crawled up every wall, wrapping around her front porch. You took a careful step over a vine pulsing beneath your feet, wondering just how fast Vecna would know you were there with one misstep.

You wondered how fast everything would be over. If he would just take care of you then and there. Your hand went to the walkman in your pocket, still dry, sealed in its plastic bag. Steve’s hand darted out and gripped yours in his, his fingers interlocking with yours. He felt unsteady as he used his other hand to point the flashlight into the dark entryway of the Wheeler residence.

It was all ash and rot and vines, and it made you sick to your stomach.

“Might be time to hire a maid, Wheeler,” Robin attempted to lighten the mood but to no avail.

“Come on. I don’t want to stay here any longer than we have to,” she replied, and you didn’t blame her. You were glad you weren’t at your house; you didn’t think you’d ever be able to look at it the same again if you saw it in the state that Nancy’s was.

You all carefully made your way up the stairs, but you felt a tug on your hand halfway up and you turned around confused, Steve lagging behind and looking out over the banister.

“Steve, come on,” you shook his hand and he quickly whipped around to face you. He stared at you blankly, dropping your hand before responding.

“You head up there, I’ll be right behind you.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words. “Steve—“

“Y/n, just trust me, okay?”

The sincerity in his eyes is what caused you to cave as you took a deep, shaky breath and turned away from him, leaving him behind.

You joined your friends at Nancy’s desk where she was removing the lid of a shoebox to reveal…well, shoes.

“Those aren’t guns,” Eddie pointed out the obvious.

“These heels are pointy, but I was hoping for something more along the lines of a deadly projectile,” Robin stared at Nancy with intensity, the plan you had all crafted slowly falling apart before your eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Nancy whispered, her brow furrowed as she inspected the shoes.

“Maybe you left them somewhere else,” you offered, trying to keep the last little bit of hope you had in your chest alive.

“There’s a six-year-old in the house. I know where I keep my guns,” Nancy breathed out, looking at you with desperation. You knew the feeling. “And also, I threw these away years ago.”

The spark of hope fizzled out, turning to dread as you picked up a stack of index cards, clearly from one of Kaminsky’s insanely difficult chem tests your sophomore year. You felt a bit of jealousy tear at your heart, knowing that Steve used to quiz Nancy for that class. You had sat a row behind her and spent the rest of the year trying to push that envy down in your chest as he walked her to class each day. You took a deep breath and reminded yourself that was over…but why had Nancy kept the flashcards? She was going into journalism.

Nothing made sense.

“Nancy…” you started off slow, afraid of the dots you were connecting. “These are from sophomore chemistry.”

“A-and…and this wallpaper…this is old wallpaper. And this mirror went to a yard sale!” Nancy darted around the room, pointing out all of the inconsistencies with the state of her room and the sinking feeling in your stomach grew.

She suddenly picked up a journal and started furiously flipping through pages, stopping dead in her tracks as she reached the last entry.

“Nancy, you’re scaring me,” Robin spoke up. You couldn’t help but feel the same.

“I think the reason my guns aren’t here is because they don’t exist yet.” She turned towards you and held up the closed book. “This diary should be full of entries but it’s not. The last entry is November 6th, 1983.”

You shuddered, goosebumps erupting over your entire body. “The day Will went missing,” you whispered. “We’re in the past.”

You all stared at each other wide eyed, trying to comprehend the implications of your discovery. Your moment was cut short when you heard Steve’s voice ring out, yelling. You felt like you could vomit as you cursed yourself for leaving him behind, sprinting down the stairs and bumping your hip on the corner of the banister in the process.

You hissed in pain, but you didn’t let it stop you from flying around the corner, where you were met with the sight of your boyfriend screaming out into the empty room.

“Dustin? Hello? Hello? Dustin?!”

“Maybe he really does have rabies,” Robin spoke and you elbowed her in the side, not thrilled with her joke.

“Steve? Baby, what are you doing?” You slowly approached him. He whipped around, shining his flashlight in your eyes.

“He’s here. Henderson. That little shit, he-he’s here. He’s like…in the walls or something. Just listen,” Steve explained through gasps of air. He began calling out to Henderson again, his flashlight searching around the room as if the boy would appear.

You were about to go retrieve your boyfriend from his obvious psychotic break when Dustin’s voice suddenly filled your ears. He sounded far away, but Steve was right. It was him.

He was here.

Your heart sank in your chest at the thought that Dustin might be in this alternate dimension with you. You began frantically searching the room looking for him as you all shouted his name.

“Alright, either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douchebag,” Steve spoke up and you rolled your eyes.

“Will. He found a way to speak to Joyce through the lights,” Nancy explained, quickly trying to flip switches on lamps to see if anything would happen.

You spun around quickly, ready to try any other lights in the room, when you noticed a shimmer around the overhead light of the Wheelers’ kitchen table. It looked like magic and you couldn’t take your eyes off of it as it pulsed and wavered in the otherwise dark world you were in.

“Guys,” you breathed out, and Steve shined his flashlight up at the light fixture. You slowly reached your hands towards it and you could feel the way the particles in the air swirled around your fingertips, feeling a sense of electricity in your nerves as the lights pulsed on and off.

Your friends all joined you, each taking a turn to investigate the strange phenomena laid out before you. “It…kinda tickles,” Eddie spoke up, and in any other situation you would have laughed at Hawkins High’s biggest metalhead making a comment like that.

“Does anyone know morse code?” You asked, knowing that Dustin knew it like the back of his hand.

Robin and Nancy both shook their heads and your heart began to sink. It was all useless if no one knew how to properly communicate.

“Wait,” Eddie spoke up, “does SOS count?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, stepping aside to give Eddie room to tap out the code in the light fixture. Steve’s hand found the small of your back and you allowed yourself to smile up at him for a moment.

Maybe things were looking up after all.

***

You all sat with bated breath as you crowded around the side of Nancy’s bed. You ran your fingers through your hair, the anticipation making you almost want to pull it out. Steve wrapped a hand around your waist, squeezing your side as a signal to calm down.

It was sweet, but it didn’t really help.

“Come on, come on,” Steve whispered, his voice sounding desperate. He let his hand slip from your waist, allowing it to slide down your back and towards your back pocket, needing to check for himself that the walkman was still there. After he confirmed it was, he let his hand linger there a little longer, before slipping his hand into your other back pocket.

Steve’s love language was physical touch. There was no doubt about it. But you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the fact that his need to have a hand on your ass outweighed the fact that you were in a scary as fuck alternate dimension.

“Are you guys seeing this?” Dustin’s voice rang out, echoing throughout the bedroom. Suddenly, you were staring into the shimmer from before, and you reached your hand out to touch it, desperately needing to find that warmth again in this cold, unforgiving place.

“Holy shit!” Erica exclaimed. You cringed as you thought about how she had been brought into this mess again too. You tried to shove the thought aside. You didn’t want to feed the guilt that Vecna was exploiting.

“Okay, we’re gonna unplug it but leave it there…try it now!” Dustin’s voice filled the room again.

Your hands hesitantly reached out towards the bed, hoping with all your heart that your message would translate to the Lite-Brite the kids had. You shakily wrote out the letters, cringing at how shaky your handwriting looked from how nervous you were.

Suddenly, Dustin’s laughter filled your ears. “It worked!”

You released the breath you didn’t even realize you’d been holding, and you just wished that you could somehow travel across time and space to give the Henderson boy a hug.

You wracked your brain trying to think of how to quickly explain what was going on. You decided on the word “stuck,” writing it out as fast as you could.

“They’re stuck in the Upside Down,” this time it was Lucas’s voice filling the room, echoes drifting through the open space. It was disorienting and it would be scary if it wasn’t the goofball kids you’d come to know and love.

“You can’t get back through Watergate?” Dustin asked.

“What the hell’s Watergate?” Your boyfriend turned to you, looking completely and utterly lost. You grabbed onto his hand, rubbing your thumb across the back of it as you looked up at him lovingly (and somewhat pitifully too, if you were being honest).

“Because it’s in the water and it’s a gate...” Robin explained so that you didn’t have to.

“Oh, that’s cute,” Eddie joked, and you rolled your eyes. You weren’t sure why Dustin had such an affinity for coming up with dumbass nicknames for the component parts of the Upside Down, but unfortunately he did.

G-U-A-R-D-E-D, you spelled out in the shimmer in front of you.

“We think we have a theory that can help with that,” Dustin spoke up and your heart soared. You didn’t want to spend any more time here than you had too, desperate for some sort of escape. “We think Watergate isn’t the only gate; that there’s a gate at every murder site.”

You felt your stomach drop at his words, your mind suddenly being pulled back towards your seemingly inevitable fate. You barely heard your friends discussing what Dustin could possibly mean. Their voices sounded faint and far away as you tried and failed to calm yourself down. Steve squeezed your hand, breaking you away from your thoughts and shooting you a look that said “are you okay?” to which you nodded. He didn’t really believe you, but he guessed that now wasn’t the time to argue as he watched Nancy draw out a question mark.

“Seriously guys? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you trust me?” The boy sounded exasperated and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“This kid’s gotta get his ego in check,” Steve spoke up, a look of disgust plastered across his face.

“I know! It’s his tone!” You complained. Steve opened his mouth again to continue your conversation about the Henderson boy when Robin cut you off.

“Hey, can you two stop talking about your pseudo-son and can we get back to figuring how the hell to get out of here, please and thanks?”

“How far is your trailer?” You turned to ask Eddie.

“Seven miles.”

“Uh, I know your house here is like weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit, but haven’t you always had bikes?” Robin asked.

Nancy didn’t say anything, quickly leading you all back down the stairs towards the garage, no doubt to find the bikes in question.

“This reminds me of when I taught you how to ride a bike,” Steve spoke up, a smirk plastered across his face. You smacked him in the arm and rolled your eyes as your face heated up, thinking back to the time he was describing.

It was the spring of your junior year, after Tina’s Halloween party and Dart and the tunnels. Your parents had picked up a lot of extra shifts and were gone most of the time, so you were staying at Steve’s pretty frequently.

He was driving you back to his house after school when he finally broke your comfortable silence, turning the radio down.

“Hey!” You whined, reaching forward to turn the song you had been humming along to back up, but he grabbed your hand and gently pushed it away. “I was listening to that, you know.”

“I’ve been thinking…” he started, and for a second you were worried he was going to ask you out. You felt your heart start racing and your palms start sweating as you tried to think of what you’d even say. It seemed way too soon; after all, him and Nancy had pretty much just broken up a few months ago, and you didn’t want to be some rebound for him to dump once someone better came along, besides, what if it ruined your friendship or—

Your thoughts were cut short when he finished his sentence, “I think it’s about time I taught you how to ride a bike.”

You stared at him dumbfounded, barely believing the words that had exited his mouth. “You’re fucking joking, right?”

“No, I’m dead serious, y/n.”

You chuckled, but it awkwardly died in your throat when you realized he was looking at you very, very seriously. “Why? Like pardon my French, but what the fuck?”

At this point he was pulling into his driveway, putting the car in park and turning towards you. He grabbed one of your hands before he spoke up again. His fingers toyed with yours as he stared down at them, too embarrassed by what he was about to say to make eye contact with you.

“It’s just that….ugh, I don’t know. It’s hard to explain,” he mumbled, and immediately alarm bells were going off in your brain. Steve didn’t get like this; he was confident, he said what he thought, and that was that. The fact that he seemed to be at a loss for words was more than a little concerning.

You pulled your hand away from his and you moved your hands to the sides of his face, tilting his head up to look him in the eyes. “Steve, what is going on? You’re scaring me.”

“I just think about how Dustin ran off from you in the fall when all that shit was going down and how you had to run after him. With all the crazy, fucked up shit that goes on here, I just would feel a little bit better if you at least had a more reliable form of transportation other than walking everywhere.”

You giggled a bit, and Steve glared at you, clearly not happy with that response. “Steve, I’m fine, I swear. I get around just fine.”

Your words didn’t seem to ease his frustration, so you tried again. “Besides, why ride a bike when I can be chauffeured around by you all the time?”

Steve rolled his eyes before taking the keys out of the ignition. “Come on, get out. You’re learning how to ride a bike.”

You sighed, unfastening your seatbelt as you followed Steve to his garage, He guided a bike out onto his driveway and placed a helmet haphazardly on your head, reaching up to fasten it under your chin.

“I feel like an idiot,” you spoke up, and Steve tried really hard not to chuckle at how cute and sweet you looked.

“Well, you’re such a genius that I think feeling like an idiot every once in a while isn’t such a bad thing.”

Steve held the bike up for you while you mounted it, placing your feet on the pedals.

“Alright, so you’re just gonna pedal your feet, and I’m going to hold onto the handle bars and everything’s going to be fine, okay?”

You nodded and did as he said, shakily moving your feet as you attempted to steer the bike. You practiced that for a while before he moved his hands to your hips to help you keep your balance, so that you could work towards steering the bike yourself without assistance. Finally, he let go and just like that, you were riding a bike.

“I’m doing it Steve! Holy shit!” You couldn’t believe it. Your parents had never been able to afford a bike, so you just never learned.

“That’s my girl!” Steve shouted out, and your heart nearly stopped. His words caught you so off guard that you lost balance, the bike toppling over onto the street. You caught yourself on your hands, but skinned them and your knees in the process.

Steve rushed over to you, his hands hovering over you as he assessed the damage. “Y/n! I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Steve, calm down,” you assured him, hoping he didn’t see how beet red your face was. You began to stand up, but faltered a bit, pain shooting through your ankle as you came to the realization that you must have sprained it. You hissed in pain, and suddenly, Steve was picking you up bridal style to carry you back to his house. “Steve! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he replied simply, and you tried to keep your face from heating up at the way his arms felt around your body.

He spent the rest of the afternoon profusely apologizing, and you continued telling him that it was okay, but he was still clearly mad at himself when you went to bed that night.

He laid facing away from you, and it made your heart hurt. You decided you needed to show him that you didn’t care and that you were okay.

Your heart was beating a million miles a minute as you wrapped your small frame around his. Normally in bed, you were the little spoon in your weird in between relationship that you occupied. Never once had you been the one to initiate it. This was new territory.

You pressed yourself into the bare skin of his back and sighed at the warmth he radiated. Slowly, he turned in your embrace to face you, gently pushing a strand of hair away and tucking it behind your ear.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” he whispered, “I shouldn’t have pressured you. It was wrong of me and I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“Oh would you just stop it! I’m fine, Steve! My ankle doesn’t even hurt anymore, and I’m glad I know how to ride a bike now. All’s well that ends well, okay?”

He was still mad at himself, but he decided not to argue, instead choosing to take a calculated risk.

He gently grabbed your upper arm, pushing you down to lay flat on your back as he shifted so he was hovering above you. He gazed down at you with a look that screamed determination as he slowly closed the gap between you.

He shot you a look that seemingly asked “is this okay?” and you just nodded, unable to speak in anticipation of whatever was about to happen. This was all the confirmation he needed before he dipped his head down, his lips settling below your ear as he placed a gentle kiss there.

You let out a shaky breath as you closed your eyes, reveling in the way his lips felt against your skin. He kissed down your neck and across your exposed collarbones, and you thanked your lucky stars that you had put on a tank top that left enough available skin for him to pay attention to. Your chest heaved a bit at his touch, and your hand darted to the back of his neck, holding him to you and running your hands through his hair. After a few more kisses that were getting dangerously close to your cleavage and progressively more intense, he placed one more below your ear before pulling away.

You stared up at him in awe as he grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from his hair as he held it up in between the two of you. He took a moment to inspect the damaged skin on your palm, red and raw from when you had fallen. Slowly, he brought it to his mouth, placing the gentlest of kisses on it without breaking eye contact with you.

“There,” he whispered, “all better.”

That had been the first time he had ever kissed you and you felt your body growing hot just at the thought of it.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing you didn’t try to teach me how to drive,” you rolled your eyes, trying to play it off like you weren’t turned on by the memory of his lips against your skin.

Steve thought about it, and he wondered if teaching you to drive wouldn’t be such a bad idea. If you weren’t even dating and he had been able to kiss you like that when he taught you how to ride a bike, he was pretty sure the two of you were going to have a much more fun time in the back of his BMW after having you drive around the block for a little while.

Now was not the time to think about that though, and the two of you continued down the stairs, finally making it to Nancy’s garage as you each grabbed a bike.

Your legs were tired by the time you reached the trailer park, not being well suited for riding a bike such a long distance considering you had just learned how to about a year ago. Red lightning cracked through the sky, and you jumped every time you heard it. You gripped the handlebars tighter as you continued pedaling towards the Munsons’ trailer.

As soon as you pulled up, you all quickly ditched your bikes, each of you panting as you tried to catch your breath from the seven mile trip.

“That’s gotta be a Guinness World Record,” Robin spoke through gulps of air, “most miles traveled inter-dimensionally.”

“Just inhaled a bunch of that crap,” Steve grumbled referring to the ash as he coughed for emphasis, “it’s stuck in my throat.”

“Poor baby,” you attempted to patronize him, but your words died as a cough escaped your own throat, to which Steve shot you a condescending glance.

“Yeah, and who’s the baby now.”

“Will you two just shut the fuck up,” Robin coughed through her words, while Nancy rolled her eyes at the three of you. You crossed the threshold of Eddie’s trailer and you all stared silently at the pulsing, glowing gate above you.

“This is where Chrissy died,” Eddie spoke up, “like right where she died.”

A chill shot down your spine as you thought about Eddie’s description of Chrissy’s death. You tried to push the thought aside, but to no avail.

“Holy shit,” you whispered unable to pull your eyes away from the portal back to the familiar, despite how much you wanted to.

You watched as a shadow passed over the opening, and you felt nauseous at the thought of what it could be. “I think there’s something in there,” Robin announced what you were all thinking.

Something pressed into the gate, pushing at the glowing membrane before it suddenly burst, light pouring in through the now torn opening. You all backed up, shrieking as you all took defensive stances, ready to fight whatever you had to in order to survive.

Steve slowly crept towards the gate, looking up through it before whispering in awe.

“No way.”

A chuckle rang out that you would have recognized anywhere and you joined Steve to see Dustin smiling up at you alongside Max, Lucas, and Erica. They were upside down and it was do disorienting it was almost nauseating as you each looked up at each other through your respective ceilings.

“Holy shit this is trippy,” you laughed as Dustin continued to celebrate above you, thrilled that his theory was correct. The kids went off to go gather materials to hopefully bring you back to the real world as you waited in the Upside Down. Max and Lucas returned to your field of view, setting down a mattress that they had dragged from Eddie’s room to cushion your fall. You tried not to make a face at the way the sheets were stained.

“Those stains are, uh…I don’t know what those stains are,” Eddie began to attempt to explain but quickly gave up. Dustin walked over, holding together a rope he fastened out of several sheets.

“I’m not quite sure how these physics are going to work, but here goes nothing,” he said as he tossed the rope up through the gaping hole in the ceiling. “There we go,” he added as gravity caused one end of the rope to fall towards the floor in the Upside Down, “and if my theory is correct…”

He trailed off as he let go of the blanket and you watched as it miraculously hover around a central point between the two worlds, gravity working on either side to hold the rope securely in place.

Robin tugged on it to confirm it would hold and you couldn’t really believe what you were seeing.

“This is the craziest shit I have ever seen in my life, and I’ve seen some crazy shit,” Erica announced and you couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing just what crazy shit she was likely referring to.

“Guess I’m the guinea pig,” Robin spoke up as she attempted to climb the rope. It was surreal watching as the pull of gravity shifted, watching her tumble to the mattress below her as soon as she crossed the threshold back into the Hawkins you knew and loathed.

The four of you that remained looked at each other, silently trying to debate who would be next to leave the Upside Down.

“Alright, guess I’ll go,” Eddie spoke up hesitantly, climbing up the makeshift rope. Nancy followed after him and then suddenly it was just you and Steve, staring at each other through the ash floating through the air.

“See you on the other side,” Steve smirked at you, and you couldn’t help but grin back at him. Though you knew your tribulations were far from over, at least you were getting the hell out of this place, finally home free.

“On the other side,” you agreed. Steve helped to hoist you up, and you climbed towards the familiar. You passed the center point of the rope, bracing for contact with the mattress but it never came.

Instead everything went dark as you continued falling into oblivion.

***

a/n: I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! If you did and you wanted to reblog and comment I’d be so so grateful (it really makes my day to see what you guys think of the story). Since I’m getting close to the end of the content we have, I probably will open requests soon. These can be related to Adventures in Babysitting if you’d like (like I’d love to write about some mundane shit for the in between moments of conflict in Hawkins) or they could be completely separate! Also, writing the bike flashback was my favorite part of this chapter :)

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @kahhori @palachannie @keeryverse @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki @kitdjarin1 @kissmxcheek @daemonskitty @bethsvrse @aheadfullofsteverogers @quinnsadilla @chervbs @sheisjoeschateau @goosy-goose @frtfvthg @criesinlies @cycat4077 @kachelleee @killerqueenfan @newyorkangelbaby @spaghetittied @anxfl @huffledor-able541

#stranger things #steve harrington #joe keery #steve harrington fanfic #netflix #friends to lovers #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington friends to lovers #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction

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sleepyangelkami · 2 days

Text

BLOODY NOSE (S.H)

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

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

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

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

words: 1,648

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you were always swinging your dangling legs across those tables.

as time progressed, so did your relationship.

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

until he wasn't.

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

usually, this was steve's task.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

truthfully, it didn't hurt that much.

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

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

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

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

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

he should have known not to utter those words.

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

bleeding?

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

why did your nose suddenly hurt so bad?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

surely, that had to count for something.

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

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

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

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

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

main masterlist/steve's masterlist

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

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harrywavycurly · 1 day

Note

Hi Sarah! I’m just looking for anything fluffy if can be about anyone I’m just desperate 🥹🥹

Hiii babes!! So I don’t know why this is the first thing that popped into my mind and it is fluffy and it involves both Eddie and Steve so enjoy😂💖

#eddie munson fanfiction #Eddie Munson au #Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington #eddie munson fluff #Eddie Munson #steve harrington fluff #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington AU #steddie x reader #steddie x you #steddie x y/n #steddie au #steve harrington #stranger things au #stranger things fanfiction #my little dungeon master baby #my little fluffy haired baby

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strangemagicc · 2 days

Text

I want to switch it up a bit and challenge my writing so we’re playing Fic Roulette.

You pick the guy, the trope, the time period and some other little details. I come up with the rest.

Round One - The Guy

Round Two - The Trope

Round Three - The Decade

Round Four - Age Gap

Bonus Round - The Occupation

The results (04/25)

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#fic roulette #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x y/n angst #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff

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chestharrington · 6 months

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Girls On Film || Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: Steve's absentee parents gift him a camcorder for graduation. What better way to find out how it works than making a sex tape?

Couple: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+, MDNI)

Content Warnings: explicit smut (f!receiving oral, handjob, p in v sex ft. girl on top), sex on camera, filming a sex tape, lovey-dovey adorable dorks in love

Word Count: 3.7k

Your heart soared with pride as Steve walked off the football field towards you, wearing a goofy-looking gown and graduation cap. As soon as he reached you, he lifted you up and gave you a tiny spin, smiling ear to ear.

“You’re looking at a college grad,” he said with a smug smile after he put you down. You beamed at him as he lifted his hand and showed off the shiny gold class ring. “I’m never taking this thing off.”

You grinned, tugging at the graduation gown. “What about this thing? You willing to take this off for me?” You smiled wryly and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

A throat cleared behind you both and you turned, looking at the party and Robin standing with various levels of disgust evident on their faces.

Robin wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Keep it in your pants, please. Or, I guess keep it in your large, nylon zippy robe.” She squeezed between you and kissed Steve on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Steve.”

Dustin stepped forward next and gave Steve a big hug— he’d hit a growth spurt since you last saw him and was nearly as tall as Steve. Lucas, Will, and Mike all offered their congratulations combined with complaints about how boring the ceremony was after they got through the H last names.

Max crossed her arms as El wheeled her over, trying her best to be nonchalant. “I can’t see you, but I know you look dumb in that stupid hat.” Steve gave a fake laugh, took the hat from his head, and placed it on hers. “Ew, it’s all sweaty, you jerk.” She smiled despite herself and held the hat against her chest.

Steve wrinkled his nose in a way that told you he was trying his best not to cry. You knew it meant a lot to him that they’d shown up.

“Why don’t we all go for lunch?” You suggested. “My treat.” Not wanting the reunion to end, and not wanting to turn down a free lunch, everyone piled into their cars and headed to Steve’s favorite place.

When you and Steve got into his car, you were greeted by the shrill sound of his car phone ringing. With a furrowed brow, he reached over and retrieved the bulky device from its bag and answered. Even from across the car, you could hear the tinny noise of his mother speaking on the phone.

“Yeah, the ceremony is over,” he said, jaw ticking. “I sent you both the invitation two months ago.” He looked over with an exasperated look, so you grabbed his hand to give a comforting squeeze. “Well, we’re all going to lunch if you can make it.”

You frowned, but didn’t say anything. Despite their apparent lack of care, you knew that he valued their approval and time.

“Oh. Right, I understand.” He sighed deeply. “Well, I appreciate it. Okay. Okay, bye.”

He hung up and sighed, running a hand through his hair. “They, uh, they got double booked. They’re in Buffalo for a conference right now.”

Your gaze softened at the sight of his disappointed expression. “I know they’re proud of you, Steve.” He nodded, but didn’t look entirely convinced. You pulled the hand intertwined with yours up and placed a soft kiss on his knuckles.

————

When you arrived at your shared condo, you were greeted by a gift-wrapped box on the porch. You had to help him carry it in through the door, huffing as you both dropped it onto your coffee table.

Steve shrugged off the graduation gown he was wearing and kneeled to unwrap the present. A large card taped to the top revealed the senders, as if that were in question.

“To our firstborn son— congratulations! Love, Mr and Mrs Harrington.” The emotionless text almost made you grimace. You’d never read something more blatantly written by a personal assistant in your life.

“Jesus,” he muttered as he tore away the wrapping to reveal the gift. “This thing must’ve cost a fortune.” You glanced over as he held up a plastic case and found nothing that might have revealed its contents.

“What is it?” You asked, kneeling down beside him and leaning in close. He popped open the case and held up a hulking piece of machinery.

“It’s a camcorder,” he said with a grin. “It’s the best one on the market.”

You raised your eyebrows and tried not to ask what he even needed one of those for. Video cameras were for new parents and aspiring filmmakers, not college grads.

Your own gift felt tiny in comparison, even though you’d been saving for a few months to afford it. Between rent for you and Steve’s condo, groceries, and gas for your cars, it wasn’t easy to have expendable cash to buy nice gifts with.

You stayed quiet as Steve marveled at the fancy gift, holding it up to his face like he was testing how it looked through the viewfinder.

“Gorgeous,” he said, peeking out at you. “I think I found my muse.” You scoffed and covered the camera with your hand even though it wasn’t charged.

“Plug it in and we’ll see how it works later,” you said. “For now… I have a gift for you.”

He sat up, wearing a grin. “Is it lingerie? Is it dinner at The Olive Garden? Is it a bubble bath?” He leaned in and nipped at your jaw teasingly. “C’mon, tell me—“

You giggled as he pinned you down on the rug, peppering kisses on your cheeks. “Steveeee,” you groaned. He finally stopped, hovering over you. “You’re such a spoiled brat.” That made him grin even more. He pecked your lips chastely, then sat back on his knees.

You scrambled to stand up and grinned. “Stay there, alright?” He nodded and you disappeared into your shared bedroom.

Hidden away in your bedside table was a glass trinket box you’d thrifted a few months ago. It was shaped like a heart, with little gold foil embellishments. You couldn’t leave without it. You knew the real gift was inside, but you still hoped that Steve would like the box.

Steve was fiddling with the camera when you stepped back into the living room, trying his best to plug it in to charge. When he saw you, though, he smiled and sat down on the couch, waiting for you to join him.

“It isn’t much,” you insisted as you handed it over. “I hope you like it though.”

He smiled and nudged your cheek with his nose. “Are you joking? This is adorable. I love it. I’m gonna keep all my important stuff in here.”

You smiled and shook your head. “Babe, open it.” He looked sheepish as he lifted the lid, then his expression softened. You watched with a fluttering in your chest as he lifted the chain from the box.

It took months to save up for real gold, and then for the pendants after. Two initials— his and yours. “If you don’t like it, I can take it back and get something you actually w—“

He cut you off with a quick kiss that made your head spin. “It’s perfect. Best gift I’ve ever gotten, hands down. And one year I got Yankees tickets behind the plate for my birthday.” He was quick to put it on, smiling over at you. “How do I look?”

You pecked his cheek. “A million bucks, babe.” He leaned in and gave you a real kiss— deep and intense. You smiled against his lips and melted into his touch. You’d never loved someone the way you loved him.

“Wanna know what’s crazy?” He said after he pulled away. You nodded and he gestured towards the bedroom. “I bought you something too. Stay here.”

You sat patiently as he got up and hurried into the bedroom. You heard scuffling and the sounds of moving drawers until he returned, holding a wooden box.

“Your gift is inside this, by the way,” he teased as he sat back beside you. You watched him with anticipation until he flipped it open and your heart stopped.

“So, uh, I got you jewelry too,” he said softly, or maybe your ears were just ringing.

Inside the box, nestled in the middle of a tiny silk pillow, was a diamond ring.

Like, a diamond ring. The kind you get married with.

“That’s—“

He nodded. “Yeah, it is,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Will you marry me?”

In lieu of a verbal response, you put the ring on and kissed him like he was your one and only source of oxygen. It felt like it anyway— that if you parted from him even a little you’d cease to exist.

“Yes?” He asked, smiling nervously. “That’s a yes?”

You kissed him again. “It’s a yes, Steve. I wanna marry you.”

———

Steve forgot about the video camera in the excitement of the engagement. Because he had to call Robin’s hotel and let her know, and then she spilled the news to the party, and suddenly it felt like everyone from Hawkins was in the tiny condo.

After hours and hours of catching up and celebrating the day, you and Steve were left alone in a quiet house.

“So… the future Mrs. Steve Harrington…” you turned and rolled your eyes at the sight of Steve holding the video camera that had been charging all night. “Anything you want to say to the camera on the night of our engagement?”

“How do you know I’m not keeping my last name?” You asked as he got closer, putting the lens right in your face. You giggled and ducked out of the way as the lens came close to knocking against your nose. “You’re such a child.”

He grinned. “Alright, give me something to remember this night by. For posterity, baby.”

You smiled wickedly at him before lifting the hem of your shirt, flashing your tits at him and the camera. By the time you lowered your shirt back down, his mouth was ajar. “We are never showing anyone this video now.”

You grinned. “Nuh-uh, baby, this is all for you.” You raised your brows in a challenge and stepped into the bedroom, leaving him to hurry behind you with the clunky machine.

He stood in the doorway, camera focused on you as you slipped off your blouse and skirt. The whirring of machinery inside the camera indicated he was zooming in on your tits. You stifled a laugh at the noise as he zoomed out again, taking in all of you.

“Strip for me,” he directed behind the camera. You gave a wry grin as your thumbs slipped behind the waistband of your panties and dragged them down your legs slowly. “Fuck, you’re so sexy. Gonna put on a show for me?”

You settled on the bed on all fours, back arched as you crawled towards the headboard. Steve groaned at the sight, breath shuddering as you flipped around and spread your legs for him. Without needing instructions, you slipped one hand between your legs and let the other move to your chest, kneading your breast between your fingers.

He moved from the doorway— the magnetic pull of you too much to resist for long. He settled at the end of the bed, the camera so close it made butterflies swell in your tummy. He moved the camera to your hands, one between your legs, teasing your clit and dipping into the pool of arousal at your center, and the other toying with your nipples, the shiny diamond on the engagement ring glinting with each small movement.

“Christ, baby hold the camera—“ he said suddenly, passing it over to you. You laughed as he practically threw it into your hands and you had to scramble to turn it right side up.

You laughed as he tore off his clothes, probably popping some buttons here and there. “Steve, what are you— oh!”

Without hesitation, Steve buried his head between your thighs, moaning at the taste of your juices as he lapped at your pussy. It was a struggle to film him and enjoy the moment, especially since you had to watch him through the viewfinder. But something about capturing something so intimate on film made a thrill run through you.

“Fuck, Steve—“ you moaned, being more vocal than you normally would for the camera. Fuck the neighbors, honestly. It was your engagement night! “Your mouth feels so good, honey.”

His brown eyes peered up at you, at the camera, framed by pretty long lashes. His lips formed a seal around your clit and he sucked lightly, making your legs tremble. Your free hand moved to his hair, tangling in the soft locks as his mouth elicited gasps and moans.

A slick sheen had formed on the tip of his nose, his mouth, and chin from his ministrations. The sight made heat bloom in the pit of your stomach. His eyes fluttered closed as he lost himself in you— relishing in your sounds, your smell, your taste.

A light pat on your thigh was his wordless signal for you to move and accommodate him more. You acquiesced, spreading your legs as much as you were comfortably able to, and he let his fingertips tease at your center.

“Relax for me, baby,” he said, his words vibrating against your clit. He gave the bundle of nerves a light kiss before he looked up at you. “I’ve got you. Just…” He pushed his middle finger into you and you moaned low in your throat, instinctively pushing back against the intrusion. “That’s it. Just like that.”

He was always so gentle with you during foreplay— taking his time to really explore every single spot that he knew made you tick. You shuddered as the pad of his finger pressed against a particularly sensitive spot within you. He knew you like the back of his hand— probably better. He slid a second finger beside the first, coaxing moans and gasps from you as he gave all his attention to your clit and g-spot.

Your thighs trembled as you fought the instinct to close them around his head, the stimulation bordering on too much. The softness of his mouth on you, the press of his fingers against the most sensitive spot inside— making you cum was simply too easy for him. You barely had time to gasp out a breathy “I’m cumming—“ before your orgasm hit you. Your walls gripped his fingers like a vise as he worked you through it, muttering praise against your cunt before he withdrew his fingers completely.

You stared at the ceiling, trying to find your breath. “C’mere. It's your turn,” you said with a grin.

Steve simply shook his head. “Not done.” He moved his mouth back to your cunt, this time without the hungry ferocity. You sighed at the sensation, your legs twitching when the tip of his tongue brushed against your clit. His movements lost purpose with each pass of his tongue until he was practically making out with your pussy.

Your head fell back against the pillows, soft gasps slipping past your lips. Steve moaned against you as you tugged his hair, a furrow forming between his brows. So utterly lost in you that he hadn’t even noticed that he was rutting against the bed for friction.

“C’mere,” you said softly. He pressed a final, wet kiss to your pussy before resting his head on the plush of your thigh. Your stomach flipped as he licked his lips, chasing those last remnants of your taste. He pressed a soft kiss to your belly before crawling up to meet you.

The kiss you shared was hungry and slow. The camera was shoved to the side so you could put your mouth on his— tongues meeting, the tang of your arousal and his spit flooding your senses.

A low moan escaped his lips as your hand snaked between your two bodies, where you took his length into your hand and stroked slowly. His mouth fell open, a small furrow between his brows.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. You smiled up at him innocently and let your thumb glide across his tip. A full-body shiver overtook him, and you couldn’t help but giggle at the sight. Steve was easy to love all the time, but especially when he was needy. “Switch spots with me.” When you furrowed your brows he nodded towards the camera. “Please?”

When he sat back on his heels, you moved from beneath him and let him settle with his back against the pillows. You were slightly annoyed that he had control of the camera, because goddamn. His thighs were bowed out slightly, cock resting against his stomach. The sight made your heart hammer as you straddled his thighs.

Steve took the camera back into his hands, a wide smile on his face. “Alright, just do what you were doing,” he instructed. “Left hand though.”

You glanced down at your hand and smiled softly. The engagement ring— your engagement ring— glinted up at you. You spit onto your hand and Steve groaned at the sight.

“Haven’t even touched you yet,” you teased.

“Don’t let me stop you.” His voice wavered, revealing just how needy he really was.

He cried out the moment your hand wrapped around his length, head tossed back against the headboard. His cock pulsed in your hand as it glided up and down, aching for more. You leaned down, spitting onto his tip, giving you more slickness to work with.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his chest heaving. You moved your right hand to his balls, kneading them as you focused your attention on the head. “Jesus, look at that fuckin’ rock, huh?”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled wryly. “That’s what you’re thinking about? Not— y’know— the handjob to end all handjobs?” To prove your point, you twisted your hand and let your thumb glide over his slit. He practically whimpered, bucking into your grip.

You redoubled your efforts, relishing in each desperate, whiny noise you were able to elicit. He was getting close— you could feel it in the way he throbbed in your hand, and hear it in the desperate pants and moans passing his lips. Before he could finish, you slowed your pace and let him come back from the edge.

He sat there, arm slung over his eyes, just catching his breath. “Earth to Steve?” You teased, placing a kiss on his tummy. He made a low noise in the back of his throat and took another deep breath.

“Okay, I’m good,” he said, a breathy laugh escaping his lips as he finally lowered his arm and looked at you. “Just needed a minute so I didn’t—“ You giggled as he mimed an explosion, completely unabashed about the effect you had on him.

He grabbed the camera and placed it on the bedside table, doing his best to angle it just right. “Alright… wanna take a ride on the Harrington Express?” He patted his thighs with a smug expression and you groaned in annoyance.

“Steve.”

“Fine. I’ll be so cool. I’ll be totally normal. But just know… you’re marrying a loser.”

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you straddled his thighs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way… most of the time.”

He stared up at you like you hung the moon, all doe eyes and heart-shaped pupils. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, tender and slow, and you hummed contentedly at the feeling.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips. He moved one of your hands from his shoulder and down to his chest, where his heart thumped steadily. For you.

Your own heart lurched in your chest as a swell of emotions overtook you. “I love you too, Steve.”

You reached between the two of you, taking his cock into your hand so you could position him at your entrance. You breathed slowly through your nose as you sank down— the prep and attention he had given you made the stretch comfortable and bearable, so all you felt was the pleasurable full feeling that he gave you.

Once you were fully seated, you gave an experimental roll of your hips. A moan escaped you at the feeling— as each tiny movement made delicious electricity run along your nerves.

He sat up fully, his chest pressing against yours, holding you firmly against him. “That’s it, baby,” he groaned, cutting himself off to plant wet kisses along your jaw and throat. “Feels so good. Love the way your pussy feels around me.”

He cried out as you began to ride him in earnest, not caring how thin the walls of the condo were. His hands gripped onto your hips and dimpled the plush skin there as he began to meet your thrusts with his own. With each movement, you could feel him getting deeper until you could practically feel him in your guts.

“Steve,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze as he fucked up into you. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on.

“Say it again,” he demanded. “Touch yourself while you do,”

You whimpered at the tone of his voice, snaking a hand between your bodies to toy with your clit. Your limbs felt like jelly as he continued to fuck the life and brains out of you. “St-Steve, fuck, baby,” you cried between the hiccup-y sobs of pleasure that were punched from your lungs.

“Fuck, you’re squeezin’ me so tight. Not gonna last like this.”

“Don’t,” you managed. “Cum for me. With me.” You leaned in and kissed him in a way that felt like more saliva than lips.

When you pulled back, he nodded, forehead pressed against yours as you both worked each other over the edge. Your vision was spotted with pinpricks of light while he worked you through it, his moans distant in your ears.

You were both panting, nearly tacked together with sweat as you came down. You chuckled lightly as you tilted your head to look at him. “That was one hell of a celebration.” He intertwined your fingers and placed a kiss on your ring finger.

“And we have the rest of our lives to do it again, and again, and again, and ag—“

You shut him up with a kiss. You figure that for the rest of your lives, that’s always going to work.

It does.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fanfiction #lazy ghoul’s kinktober

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lovebugism · 2 months

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can i request angst☹️☹️shy!reader barely ever talking and being soo hyperaware of everything and steve slowly breaks her out of her shell? then she overhears him saying she talks too much and she just feels bad and reverts into herself

Angst w happy endingn if possible please ily!!🫶🏼

ty for requesting!! — steve tells you he likes when you talk a lot (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, established relationship, 1k)

Your smile is wide and unknowing. Steve thinks there’s something extra special about it because you don’t even realize it’s there. “—And since Eddie was working the register, he let me take one of the new tapes for free. You know, to try it or whatever, and he was all like, ‘flattery works with me,’ and I was like, Steve would keel over if he was here right now.”

A giggle spills from your mouth when your rambling ceases, lips curling and eyes crinkling.

Steve blinks at you with his own absentminded beam, too busy thinking about how pretty you are to react properly to your story.

Your smile sobers slightly. “What?”

“Nothing,” he assures with the shake of his neatly styled head, rogue strands of chestnut hair draping his forehead. He shrugs and leans his elbows over the Family Video counter you stand across. “You’re just… You’re talking a lot. ’S nice.”

Your face heats. Your chest burns with a similar fire. Your eyes widen ‘cause you didn’t realize that you hadn’t shut up until now. “Oh… Sorry—”

“No, it’s good!” he tells you, laughing. “It’s a compliment.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah! I mean, I used to have to bribe you to get you to talk about your day. Remember that?”

Benny’s Burgers was your very best friend at the start of your relationship. Steve would always buy your dinner — not in exchange for you to talk exactly, but in the hopes that the additional time spent with you would help you open up. It did. Most of the time, anyway.

Your nose scrunches. “I thought you took me out because you liked me?”

“I took you out ‘cause I liked you and because the sugar rush from the milkshakes made you talk more.”

You nod once. “Right.”

The conversation ebbs. The store gets eerily silent without your voices to fill it. Steve, undeterred by the lapse in dialogue, flashes you a lopsided smile. “Wanna show me the tapes you bought?”

“Yeah,” you murmur and push off the counter.

Steve watches you over his shoulder while you saunter down the hallway where your bag is kept. The breakroom door squeals open and shut again. A voice sounds suddenly from beside him. “Nice job, dingus,” Robin chides, gritty and montoned.

His head snaps to the other side, brows twisted with confusion. “What?”

“You hurt her feelings,” she answers like it’s obvious, dropping a stack of VHS tapes on the counter with a heavy thud.

“I didn’t even say anything!”

“You said she was talking a lot.”

“I said that I liked it!”

Robin rolls her ocean-blue eyes, huffing ‘cause he’s too oblivious to get the point. “Yeah, but if I said, Wow, you have a ton of gel in your hair— but it’s styled really nice today, it’d give you a whole complex. Wouldn’t it?”

The make-believe compliment is dreadfully backhanded. Steve’s face floods with a gentle horror, the realization of a fallacy he hadn’t realized he’d made. “Shit…”

“Exactly,” Robin deadpans. “Now go take care of your girlfriend, dingus.”

He finds you in the breakroom, idling in place. You’ve got the cassettes in your hands, and you fidget with them between anxious fingers — like you were planning to come out sometime, but not quite yet.

You tense when the door creaks open, relaxing again when Steve enters.

“Whatcha doing?” he wonders with a crooked, pink smile.

“Getting the tapes,” you answer in a mousy voice, waving the pieces of plastic in your hand.

The door clicks shut behind him. He inches towards you, fond and terribly soft with it. “I missed you,” he confesses in a faint murmur. His wide palms settle on your sides. You warm instantly under his touch.

“I was gone for two seconds,” you respond with a quiet laugh.

“Yeah. And I felt like I was dying.”

You meet his pout with a small smile, blinking up at him with sparkling doe eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I just love being around you, alright? Sue me,” he argues, squeezing softly at your hips. With a quieter smile, he confesses, “And when I said you were talking a lot— I didn’t mean anything by it, you know?”

You’d disappeared back here because you thought it was something silly to be so upset over. He’d told you it was a compliment, but it didn’t really feel like one. Your brain refused to be anything other than hurt by his well-intentioned remarks. The ache in your chest became unignorable, and you shrunk inside yourself accordingly.

“I know,” you murmur.

“I love hearing you talk,” he tells you, shy smirk widening to a lopsided beam. “It’s my favorite thing in the whole world, actually.”

Your lips purse to the side. Your anxious hands fidget with the plastic cassettes in your palms, aching to hold him. It takes you a moment or more to find the courage to speak. “I’m just… I’m normally super aware of… when I’m talking too much, you know? I was just… Excited, I guess.”

“You were. And it was really fuckin’ cute.” A laugh sputters from his lips. He wears all the love he has for you in the deep honey of his eyes, rich and swimming with warmth. “I love seeing you happy.”

“Well, you make me happy…” you whisper, gaze averted. “So, it fits…”

“Yeah, it does,” he murmurs in response, ducking down to kiss you. It’s chaste and terribly fleeting — lips locking together one moment and then smacking in protest when they separate the next.

It takes your eyes a second too long to flutter open again after he’s pulled back from you. You find Steve already grinning as he nods to the tapes in your hands. “Wanna pop those into the radio? So we can listen to ‘em while I work?”

Your brows pinch with a distant worry. “Won’t Keith get mad?”

“Probably,” Steve answers with an uncaring shrug. “You don’t have to worry about him, alright? I’ll take care of you.”

You melt.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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appocalipse · 29 days

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that guy ⊹ steve harrington

summary: After he's been to yet another failed date with yet another random pretty girl, Steve Harrington, your best friend, stops by at the diner your family owns for a late-night chat, same as he'd done a thousand times before. Steve is totally unaware of how much he's hurting you with his endless parade of dates, because after all — the two of you are only friends and nothing more, right? It's not like you have any secret feelings for him… | 2.6k words

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The moment Steve steps through the glass doors of the diner, you wonder, for about the millionth time that month alone, what is it that you've done so wrong to deserve this kind of punishment.

It's Friday night, and on Friday nights, Steve Harrington goes on dates. It's just like clockwork, really: he meets a pretty girl, thinks she's the one, takes her out on a date, realizes quickly enough that she isn't quite what he was looking for, then comes here after having dropped her back home to sulk with you, in the diner that your family runs, still clad in the outfit he'd chosen especially for his failed date.

To be honest, he never looks sad, per se — more like disappointed. Frustrated, maybe.

You watch as he weaves around tables occupied by laughing friends, past booths filled with couples sharing desserts, then slides into a seat in front of you at the bar. Steve sits down with an exhausted sigh, ruffling up his hair before shooting you a tired smile.

"Hi."

You don't look up from where you're polishing the counter. "Bad date again?"

"Not even close. She talked about horses non-stop."

A quiet laugh slips past your lips despite yourself, and finally, you tear your gaze off the dark wooden surface of the counter to look up at him; he's got this pleased little smile on his face, the corners of his eyes crinkled ever so slightly in the way they always do whenever he succeeds at making you laugh, even if just a little.

How are you supposed to keep acting like nothing's wrong when he looks at you like that?

You clear your throat awkwardly and make yourself busy stacking clean glasses next to the coffee machine.

"So...not the one, I take it?"

Steve leans forward against the counter and props his head up with his hand, sighing deeply.

"I'm starting to think she won't ever show up," he says quietly, running his other hand through his hair. You chance another glance at him and note how genuinely worried he looks. It breaks your heart almost as much as it annoys you. "What is it that's wrong with me, huh? I just don't get it."

"Nothing is wrong with you."

"You don't need to be nice to me. We've been friends since forever, remember?"

The word 'friends' makes you wince a little bit inside, but you hide the reaction behind a neutral frown. "Do you think there's something wrong with me? Because I haven't found the one yet either, you know."

Steve's expression softens as he looks at you, and once again you feel that horrible twinge in your stomach that you wish would just stop already.

"It's different. I mean—you're not actively trying to find someone." He reaches out to pull one of the half-melted mints out from the glass bowl on the counter and pops it into his mouth with a shrug. "I go out looking for her and she just doesn't come. If she even exists, that is."

"She does."

"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, but I wouldn't hold my breath. God, why am I such an idiot, y'know?" Steve slumps over the counter with a groan, burying his face into his crossed arms. "My love life is a trainwreck."

"At least you have one."

He glances up at you curiously and lifts an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. Forget it. Do you want some pie?"

You're not about to tell him what you've only admitted to yourself mere months ago — that you're actually hopelessly, madly, stupidly in love with him, and that you have been ever since the two of you were just dumb kids racing around your parents' diner.

What makes it even worse is that you had no idea your feelings went that deep until Steve started going on these dates of his again. Before then, everything was normal — you met up every weekend and binged on candy, watched bad movies on your couch, drove around town together blasting The Clash on his BMW's speakers...it was good.

Until it wasn't.

"Wait, c'mon, you can't just leave me hanging like that," Steve presses. He shifts a little on his stool to better face you, then gestures at you with his hands. "You've clearly got something you wanna say, so, like—hit me. Lay it on me."

"Nothing. I'm just saying...at least you're trying, you know," you say carefully, measuring each word before speaking them. "And at least you're the one doing the rejecting. Could be worse."

Steve's eyebrows rise high up on his forehead and he looks at you incredulously. "Whoa, wait—are you trying to tell me you've been rejected?"

You busy yourself by filling two tall glasses with soda, then slide one to his side of the counter and keep the other for yourself. "Uh...kind of, yeah. But it's fine."

"But who the hell would even do that?" he blurts out. There's anger in his voice all of a sudden, a defensive fire in his eyes that makes you feel as if someone has punched you in the gut. "To you? You're like, the nicest person on the planet, and super pretty to boot. That's just—that's crazy!"

Your heart gives a violent little jump in your chest. He thinks you're pretty. Steve Harrington thinks you're pretty.

Pretty as a friend, you correct yourself immediately, and sigh as you sip your drink. Of course, it's nothing more than that — just meaningless words spoken in a moment of unthinking kindness.

"Seriously, who?" he presses on. "Give me a name. I'll fight him."

"You mean like you fought Jonathan Byers?" you smile behind your glass, looking at him from over its rim.

Steve looks embarrassed at the memory and drops his gaze for a second or two before meeting your eyes again with a playful little smile of his own. "Different situation, okay, but that's not the point. So? Who's the guy?"

"You...don't know him," you hedge.

"It's Hawkins. I know the stray cats here by name."

"Fine, well, even if you did know him, it doesn't matter. He didn't reject me, exactly...not really."

Steve frowns a little. "Okay, you're gonna have to start making sense now. This is hurting my head."

The funny thing is, he actually looks confused, as if he can't possibly fathom the idea of someone rejecting you. It's sweet, really — way too sweet for your liking, especially when you know fully well he doesn't see you in the way you'd want him to.

You lower your gaze to avoid his and instead focus on drawing random shapes on the counter with your index finger, where tiny droplets of condensation from your glass have pooled up on the dark wood. "I mean, I never really told him how I felt. Not directly. It just…never happened."

"Oh. Well, then how do you even know if he feels the same way?" he asks you, looking rather doubtful.

You steal another glance at him and almost regret it instantly. His eyes are trained on your face, patient and attentive like you're the only thing worth watching in the world. It makes you feel horribly small and selfish and guilty, because after all, what right do you have to want him when he so clearly wants someone else?

You feel like you could cry. You might, if you don't distract yourself with something fast enough.

"I just know. Do you want some pie? I'll go get you some pie."

Without waiting for a response, you rush off to the kitchen even though there's plenty of pies sitting on the display counter at the bar, and you make a beeline straight for the back exit.

The alley behind the diner is blissfully empty as usual, just a lonely dumpster and a handful of sad-looking shrubs and weeds peeking out from under the concrete.

No, you aren't going to cry.

This is stupid.

You press your back against the rough brick wall of the diner and breathe in deep the warm night air, then exhale slowly as you count to ten in your head.

When the door opens behind you and the diner's familiar chatter and clatter of cutlery spill into the alley, you wince, mentally cursing yourself for being so goddamn weak. You should have known better.

You don't have to look up to know that it's him.

"Are you hiding from me?" Steve's voice comes, quiet and curious and maybe just a little bit hurt, even.

"I got...suddenly nauseous," you explain weakly, still refusing to look up and meet his eyes.

There's a long stretch of silence, and you feel Steve move closer to you until he's leaning against the wall by your side. You finally look up and find him smiling, this gentle, amused little thing that makes your traitorous heart skip a beat.

"You look just fine to me."

You stare up at the sky, head against the wall. "I thought I was gonna throw up."

He's still watching you, you can tell; you're keenly aware of his eyes on you, so much so that your skin prickles at the attention. "No, you didn't."

"No, I didn't," you admit with a sigh, and turn your head to finally look at him. He's got this little half-smile on his lips, the very same one you fell for years ago, and you curse yourself silently for never learning how to let him go. Really let him go.

"Hey. Listen. You don't have to tell me, okay?" Steve says gently, pushing himself off the wall to step closer to you. He brings his hand up to your face and tucks a loose lock of hair behind your ear, letting his fingertips linger on the edge of your jaw for the briefest of moments, just long enough for you to wonder whether he knows what he's doing to you.

You don't dare to move. You're afraid of breaking whatever spell has seemingly come over him.

"I should've never asked. That was selfish."

"Forget it," you say.

He's standing close now, close enough that you have to tilt your chin up to be able to look up at him properly. There's a strange kind of tension in his eyes, something dark and unsure and tentative, and his gaze darts down to your lips just the slightest bit.

You're fairly sure you're just seeing what you want to see, your foolish heart playing tricks on you. But you panic nonetheless, feeling a sudden, irrational fear that if he moves any closer, he'll realize the truth — that you're a liar and a coward, that you've been harboring these feelings of yours for him for years.

"I should—I should go. Back inside," you mutter, pointing vaguely at the door with your thumb. "In there."

"Sure, yeah. Okay. In there," he echoes, not making a single move to leave. "Not out here."

"Yup. Exactly. In there."

"So you said."

"Yep."

The wall of the diner is digging into your spine uncomfortably, and your mouth is dry, and your knees feel weak, and your stomach is doing somersaults, and the longer he stares at you with those eyes of his the more you feel like you're burning from the inside out and—

He's not moving. All he does is look at you, really look at you, as if it's the first time he's really looked, as if he's seeing something that wasn't there before.

"Okay, so—"

You try to push past him towards the door, but Steve grabs your arm, making you stop dead in your tracks. He lets go as soon as you look up at him, lifting his hand in front of him in an apologetic gesture.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," he says. He swallows hard and rubs his palm on the front of his jeans, a nervous little habit you think he's always had. He runs his hand through his hair, mussing up the carefully gelled strands, and it's probably the first time you've ever seen him look so flustered.

He laughs nervously and gestures at the ground with his hands as he speaks. "Look, this is just—this is just crazy, okay, but I think I, uh, maybe sort of realized something."

You blink at him, not quite certain you're hearing him correctly.

"Realized what?" you ask, the words barely more than a whisper.

Steve clears his throat and nods at you, seemingly pleased that you've finally spoken. "Yeah, well, this is stupid, but you know how you're always telling me to listen to my gut?"

"You're not making a whole lot of sense right now, Steve."

"Just bear with me for a sec, okay? This is like, totally new to me." He holds his palms up, and you notice his hands are shaking a little. "I just need a minute, alright?"

He breathes in deep and exhales slowly, then shoots you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, this is just...really weird," he confesses. "Weirdly real."

"You're freaking me out," you tell him, but Steve only smiles at you.

"Maybe I should just show you. Because, I mean, what if I'm wrong? That'd be terrible, obviously."

"Steve."

"Yeah, I know, but hear me out, okay?" he says quickly, and takes another step closer. You stand your ground this time, if only because you don't trust yourself to actually move without your legs giving out. "So, look. Here's the thing. You're, like—you're one of the most important people in my life. You've been there for me when nobody else was, and I...you mean a lot to me."

"Steve—"

"Shut up, you're ruining the moment."

He takes another step forward until he's crowding you against the wall, hand coming to rest next to your head on the brick. He's close, so close that you can smell the scent of his cologne and shampoo and laundry detergent, and if you were to lean in even the slightest bit, your faces would bump.

Steve is a little out of breath, his lips parted ever so slightly. And he's still looking at you with that strange, searching expression of his.

"Is this okay?" he whispers.

"I don't—what?"

Your voice catches in your throat. There's no room for doubt in his eyes now, not even the tiniest, slightest sliver of uncertainty left.

"This," Steve murmurs.

He tilts his head to the side a little and leans in until you're sure your noses are touching, and you feel your eyes slip closed in anticipation.

"Is this okay?" he repeats in a whisper. "Please tell me I'm not crazy."

"I think I am."

His lips brush yours. It feels like an accident, doesn't last long enough to be anything but a dream. You can still taste the faint, sweet trace of sugar and mint on your tongue when he pulls away, though.

"Just to be clear," Steve whispers, his fingers brushing lightly over the skin of your neck, tracing invisible lines that make you shiver, "am I the guy from earlier? The one you like?"

You don't have it in you to deny it anymore.

"Yes. It's you."

A wide grin breaks out across his face, and suddenly he's everywhere; he cups your face in his hands, pressing eager, fervent kisses along the line of your jaw, trailing hot and open-mouthed down the side of your neck.

You giggle helplessly, grabbing Steve by his collar to pull him away from you and up to your eye level. He's breathing just as heavily as you are, his hair messy and his eyes bright.

"How do you do this to me, huh?" he pants, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth. "You just—you just completely knock me out."

A pleasant little thrill rushes up your spine at that.

"Oh yeah?"

"Completely."

You kiss him this time.

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upsidedownwithsteve · 6 days

Text

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

[3.4K] title from ‘too sweet’ by hozier, just a stressed out steve, a willing girlfriend and a lot of filth. written in two hours and not edited in the slightest i’m sorry do not perceive me.

As sour as Steve had looked when he came home from work, he tasted twice as sweet.

He’d called you on his lunch, voice strained and low and you could picture the stitch between his brows, the downturn of his lips as he grumbled to you down Family Videos landline.

Robin was off sick, Keith was in a foul mood, two kids came in and stole a copy of a porno that was sitting behind the desk and the return pile sat at the height of Steve’s waist.

“Can’t wait to come home,” he had sighed down the line, voice rough and mournful and making your thighs squeeze together just right. “Wanna see you so bad, y’know?”

And you did know.

It seemed to take an age before you heard his car pull into the driveway, brakes squeaking slightly because the rent on the apartment came before any repairs to the BMW now. It’s why you’d poured a whisky for him, neat and no ice, no water, just the way Steve liked it. You considered dinner, home cooked and waiting on the kitchen table but something else took hold in your thoughts.

You could order pizza later.

So Steve came in the door with his shoulders slumped and his keys rattling from his fingertips, his green work vest already discarded and probably balled up in the backseat of his car. That frown was there, the one you’d wanted to soothe away all day for him, creasing at his brows, turning down the corners of his soft and pretty lips.

He thawed when he saw you, barefoot and in an old sweater that was too big for you, legs naked and your skin still warm from the shower you’d taken your time in. Steve held out a hand, groaning in delight when you stepped to him, all soft smiles and softer sweater, allowing him to pull you into his chest. His noises were doing things, rough sighs and low moans that made you think with what was between your legs, his purrs vibrating from his chest to yours as he curled his arms around your lower back.

It was easy to return the affection, pushed onto your tiptoes as you carded your hands into the hair at the nape of his neck, the smell of his cologne that you watched him spray that morning barely clinging to his skin. You nosed at his throat anyway, everything about him smelling like home and when Steve let out a low grunt at your adoration, you used one hand to pull at his jaw, bringing his lips to yours.

It was more than an average kiss ‘hello’. In fact, it made his brows shoot upwards and his breath hitch, the arm still around your waist faltering before he caught up with the pace you had set and tucked you in tighter to his body. He let you lead, eyes fluttering shut as he sighed softer than he had all day, letting you steal the noise and keep it for yourself.

Steve fell pliant for you, pretty lips giving in to yours as you kissed him slow, needy, lazy. Your tongue traced the seam of his mouth, teasing, testing, his breath ragged when he opened for you, trying to catch up. You pulled away then, pleased with the rosy cheeks and blown out pupils that stared back at you.

“Go sit down,” you told him, voice soft, quiet. There was a spell cast, not to be broken, not until Steve did too. “I’ll be through in a second.”

If Steve knew what you were up to, he didn’t say. No questions asked, the boy blinked and stumbled into the doorframe before righting himself, heading for the sofa. You’d long switched the television off, the lamp by the armchair dimmed low, the candles you liked to collect all lit and scattered across the coffee table and the fireplace mantle.

You returned with his whisky, the glass glinting amber in the candle light, your smile too coy. Steve raised his brows as you handed him his drink, his gaze too caught on your bare legs. He reached out for you, warm palm travelling up the back of your thigh, wide enough to curl around it and bring you between his knees.

Exactly where you planned to end up.

“What have I done to deserve this, huh?” He asked, whisky on one hand as he leant his chin on the soft of your stomach, eyes wide and dark as he looked up at you.

You scoffed, soft and light, your hands carding through his hair. You pushed it from his forehead, nails scratching at his scalp, beaming when he closed his eyes like he couldn’t help it, lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheeks. “What? Bring you a drink?”

Steve hummed, distracted. “Was thinkin’ more along the lines of deserving you.”

Love sick, that’s what you felt. An awfully sticky thing that glued itself to your heart at his words. You didn’t know what to say, especially not when he was looking at you like that again, all brown sugar eyes, honeyed and soft. So you bent instead, nose bumping his before you stole another kiss, gentler than before, lingering and as sweet as him.

You let him take one sip of his whisky before you dragged his shirt from his body, hair wild as you pulled it over his head, cheeks flushed and eyes surprised.

“What—?”

You didn’t respond, merely dropping to your knees instead and popping the button on his Levi’s. Steve swore, a dirty, throaty sound that made your stomach flip because you knew that he knew where this was going.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Fuck. You don’t have to do that—”

The sound of his zipped caught in the air, the rest of the evening quiet. The closed curtains and the flicker of the candle light made the small living room feel even tinier, a warm bubble where you could hear every little noise Steve made for you. His hand travelled up your forearm, fingers curling at your elbow and squeezing. Steve looked half gone already, lip parted and shiny from your previous kisses and you knew he’d taste like cedar and smoke now.

“What if I wanna?” You told him, pouring, just a little. Because what man could resist a pretty thing like you on your knees, lips soft and begging? You pushed yourself up, leaning into the space between his hips, your mouth skimming along his jawline, tongue licking into the corner of his mouth all sweet. It was barely a kiss, but it was somehow dirtier. “What if I told you I wanna make you feel better? That I’ve been thinking about your cock in my mouth all day?”

Steve groaned, falling into you, head on your shoulder, teeth biting down on the junction of your neck. “Fuck— baby. Baby, y’cant, you can’t just say shit like that.”

You grinned, amusement hidden from him as Steve continued to mouth at your throat, nose nudging down the collar of your sweater so he could kiss more skin. “I can’t?” You asked.

“Gonna make me lose my fuckin’ mind,” he mumbled. He lifted his head then, cheeks pink and eyes looking heavy lidded, pupils black and too big. He looked delirious on you. You watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed heavily, tongue licking at his lips. “You really been thinking about that?”

You nodded, making your eyes a little too wide, too innocent, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and it was a cheap shot, an easy target— but fuck, it worked every time. Steve’s hand slid to your ass, lifting your sweater out of his way and squeezing a plump cheek, only your underwear to be found underneath.

“So can I?” You whispered, mouth parted, brushing against his. You shared your breath with him, nose pushed to his warm cheek, hands coasting over his thighs as you prepared to tug down those too tight jeans.

Steve sounded too breathy when he answered but he still played your game, too far gone or not. He was watching your mouth when he spoke, transfixed by the pink gloss there, the way he could see your tongue between them. “Can you what, honey?”

You smirked.

Steve knew what you were asking. He just wanted to hear you say it again.

“Can I suck your cock?”

You heard it then, the hitch in his throat, the too harsh exhale. Steve looked at you like you were everything, like you’d hung each star and you were ever wet dream all at once. Lips pressed together to deal in his moan, his filthy words, he nodded, hair falling into dark eyes. And when he trusted his voice, albeit rougher and lower than before, he spoke.

“Yeah, honey, go ‘head.” He lifted his hips when you tapped them, jeans and boxers shoved down just enough for his cock to spring free, already hard and hitting his stomach. “You’re so— you’re so fucking sweet, y’know that?”

You smiled, all coy, faux shyness as you leaned your cheek onto his thigh, denim and coarse hair against your skin. Steve gasped when you wrapped a small hand around him, fingers barely meeting around his girth and you stroked once, twice. “I am?”

You didn’t give him a chance to answer before your tongue followed, a lazy, wide lick from the base of him to his tip, already dark pink and slick for you. Steve’s hips canted up, head thrown back against the cushions and you adored the way you got to watch his jaw tense, neck straining as he calmed himself down.

“God,” he blew out a breath, eyes trained on the ceiling because if he looked down and saw the way you were kissing a line up his cock, he’d fucking lose it. “Yeah, baby. The sweetest, Jesus Christ.”

You took it easy on him then, easing him into it until his shoulders sagged and his head tipped back up, his pretty face more flushed than ever but Steve watched you as you took him into your mouth, his jaw unhinged as you sucked the tip of him, licking over his head.

His hand found the back of your head, holding but not pushing and he groaned something fierce when you scratched at his bare thighs, nails dragging over the muscle there. “Tha’ s’it,” Steve moaned, unabashed, totally gone. “Keep suckin’ me, honey, yeah— please. Can you take more, huh? Take a little more for me, please, baby.”

You didn’t need to be asked, begging or not, but it certainly made it all that sweeter. Steve’s hand was cupping your jaw, thumb stroking over the corner of your mouth as you widened it, tongue licking out over his cock as you took more of it into your mouth, inch by inch until he was touching the back of your throat. It made the boy go a little wild, gasping and panting, curses mixed in with praise that was filthy enough to make your own toes curl.

“Holy shit, jus’ like that, yeah,” Steve was slurring, words meshed together in a quick mumble, his breathes too heavy for him to care. “You feel me in your throat? You’re so fuckin’ good for me, babe, Christ— yeah, yeah, lemme see your tongue, yeah. Stick it out for me, honey, oh shit—”

You did as asked, pulling back with wet eyes and warm cheeks, your lips shiny from your efforts. You kept a hand around Steve’s cock, slowly pumping him as you stuck your tongue out flat. You knew what he wanted, it was why his cheeks were so pink, the tips of his ears too. Something he found too vulgar to ask for, always scared you’d shy away from it.

You never did.

You tapped the head of his cock against your tongue, the wet slapping sounds nothing but pure filth, your own breathy noises too much for him. Steve could barely keep it together, eyes screwing shut as he bucked upwards, swearing and groaning something awful as he watched his cock slide over your tongue. You let him move, hips thrusting as you held him to your mouth, parted lips slipping over his shaft, and warm tongue tracing the throbbing vein down the length of it.

“M’gonna come,” Steve gasped and he was shaking his head, hips pressing back down into the safety of the couch and he sounded overwhelmed, eyes glassy. “Fuck, no, no, no— I—”

“No?” You pouted, understanding. Pulling away, you leaned up again, wet lips sliding over Steve’s and he kissed you feverishly, tongue licking into your mouth to search for your own. He groaned, whining when you squeezed a hand around his cock. “Too much? You don’t wanna come yet, huh?”

Steve shook his head, hair falling into his eyes and his chest was heaving, his hands curling around your sides and he was pulling at your sweater, lifting it from your frame. “No, no— shit, not yet, please.”

You let him strip you, sweater discarded by his own shirt and your bare chest only made him swear a little more, eyes on your tits, your peaked nipples and suddenly he wanted nothing more than his cock between them. He felt drunk, delirious, suddenly too happy to care about how quickly he came.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he told you with a very serious expression. His hands travelled up, palms cupping your breasts, thumbs flicking over each nipple with careful precision. “M’gonna die and it’s gonna be because of you and your mouth and those tits and—” Steve choked on a laugh when you did, lashes fluttering as you took his cock back in your hand. “—and m’gonna be a very, very happy man.”

Grinning, you rolled your eyes at his declaration, as dramatic as they were. He was as hard as steel in your grip, his hips rolling up into your touch and didn’t want to wait much longer, his poor cheeks bright red with the exertion of holding back. So you gave him a kiss, light and sweet, too sweet for the current situation but it made Steve all the more wild. You were murmuring low and soft to him, holding his cock to your tits as you stroked him, words whispered between cute little pecks at his lips, his warm cheeks.

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“You wanna come, handsome?”

“Mhmm.” A whine more than a word. “Please.”

“Where do you wanna come?”

A swear, guttural and hoarse. A twitch of his dick at the thought of his options. “Fuck, I— uh, I dunno.”

“Here?” You asked him sweetly, pushing his length between your breasts, rubbing your own nipple so he could watch it harden again. “All over here? Paint me nice ‘n pretty?”

Steve couldn’t form words now, which was exactly what you’d wanted.

Your mouth made its way to his ear, voice dropping lower than before. “My mouth?” You whispered. “D’you wanna come in my mouth, Stevie?”

A jerk of his hips, a whine and a grunt as his cock kicked up once more. He was so fucking close. Steve let his forehead fall to your shoulder, too hot and too helpless and too fucking desperate. He clung to you, hands wrapping around your bare waist and he didn’t know what he wanted more. He could sit back and watch you drop back down to your knees, pushing your pretty tits together as he jerked himself onto them, knowing he could watch the way he dripped down your body.

Or he could get you to open your mouth, pink tongue back out and waiting, you doe eyed and watching him. He always got dirty with that, asking you in the sweetest voice to let him see it all in your mouth, asking you to swallow it like a good girl before showing him your clean tongue after.

If Steve didn’t choose he was going to fucking explode.

So he tugged at your waist, gasping as he wrenched himself from you, falling back into the sofa. He took his aching cock in his own hand, pumping it once before squeezing tightly, willing away the need to come right there and then. He patted his knee, his eyes glassy and hooded as he looked at you.

“C’mere, baby, come sit.”

You did as told, happily, easily, willingly. Your own chest was thundering, excitement itching at your too warm skin because whatever Steve wanted you’d give him. Your thighs were slick, underwear sticking to your folds in the most obscene way because Steve’s sounds were too much to cope with without being touched too. He looked a riot, the prettiest kind. His hair mussed and cheeks flushed, lips pink and slick from your kisses, his eyes a little wild.

He helped you onto his lap, legs spread over his knees and his dick standing hard and to attention between you both. You waited patiently for his instructions, to hear what he wanted from you and Steve let his head fall back onto the cushions once more as he watched you from hooded lids. His jaw was flexing with each stroke he gave himself, hazy gaze roaming over your tits, your stomach and then lower.

And then—

“Lemme see you, baby?”

Your stomach flipped. A sweet voice, a prettily asked question, some filthy words. You smiled at Steve, lips twisting to hide your absolute glee because you knew what wanted, what he wanted to do and you were more than happy to give it to him.

You didn’t say anything as you hooked your fingers into the crotch of your underwear, gasping a little at how wet they actually were. You tugged them aside, white cotton stretched over your skin as you held the material away from yourself. With your spread thighs, you let Steve have the filthiest view, all glistening skin, a swollen clit between wet folds. You didn’t look down, you didn’t have to. You could hear the slick, fast sounds of Steve fucking his own fist, his frantic, hitched breaths.

“That’s it, yeah,” he sounded gone, drunk. “So good—”

Instead you watched him watch you, his eyes set on your pussy, gaze on fire as he enjoyed the show and when you swept your fingers over the centre of your folds, Steve swore, his free hand on your thigh clutching you tighter.

“Dirty girl,” he murmured, his teeth catching his bottom lip. He was close, you knew he was. “Such a pretty pussy, Jesus Christ, can’t believe I was gonna come without gettin’ to see her.”

You hummed, all delight and amusement. You cocked a brow even though Steve was still staring at your spread legs. “I’m dirty?” You cooed. “You’re the one who’s gonna come all over my cu—”

And he did.

Steve came with your name on his tongue, making it sound like the dirtiest, holiest thing you’d ever heard. He was gasping, choked sounds leaving his pretty lips as he fucked his fist, come spilling over his knuckles and onto your folds, leaving you and your underwear even stickier than before. His head fell back onto the sofa as he caught his breath, an impossible thing with his heaving chest but you curled into him almost immediately.

You let go of your stretched out underwear, your own breath hitching when you felt the warm, stickiness cling to your cunt. Steve pulled at you as you moved closer, your hands soothing over his jaw and cheeks, thumbs rubbing over his flushed skin as he kissed you, head lifting lazily, moaning at your touch, your lips, the feel of your bare stomach pressing his half hard cock to his own.

He was sticky with it all, with sweat, his own release, your affection and touch.

It was too much and entirely not enough, not of you.

Steve’s lips clicked as he pulled them away from your own, albeit grudgingly. You tasted sweet, like strawberry lipgloss and him. He was still panting when he spoke, his messy hand held away from you as he took your chin in his other. His thumb pulled at your bottom lip, swollen from all your efforts and he watched the way it popped back into place, making you smile.

“M’gonna finish my whisky,” he mumbled softly, eyes searching yours. He was met with excitement, knowing, a whole lot of adoration and fondness that he felt for you too. “You’re gonna check my pulse—” you laughed, too bright and joyous for the gloomy light of the room. Steve grinned, cheeks aching. “And then we’re gonna go upstairs and I’m gonna return the favour.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #Steve Harrington fanfiction #Steve Harrington oneshot #Steve Harrington blurb

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wroteclassicaly · 2 months

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18+

When your best-friend Steve Harrington asks you to hold his fleshlight for him.

It wasn’t really something that either of you planned on happening. But then it just did. Steve had been pent up from work all day from typical annoying patrons, smart mouthed jocks from the high school, that were freshmen when he was a senior (tenfold karma, Harrington), and Keith’s particular way of criticizing his every move out of some form of nerdy revenge. You could count on one hand the times that Steve had to bail out of your two person movie nights on Fridays (Saturdays were for dates and Sundays were for hanging with the rest of the parties and running kids around), and tonight happened to be one of those occurrences. Usually, it would be for self-care or whatever reason he needed to spend alone, but when he’d barely shed his leather jacket upon entering his house, dusting snow off of his boots — he was about to crawl out of his skin by the time his massive palm was wrapped around the receiver, thumb strangled by its cord.

He was… off? And seconds after he’d cancelled without much reason, the line went dead. You wanted to give him space, especially because he usually called back to tell you goodnight. But after being unable to sit still and finish a generous portion of the large pepperoni pizza you’d ordered the two of you, you were grabbing your keys for the journey over to his place.

~*~

It didn’t take but five minutes before you reached Steve’s house, pulling in behind his familiar car. You dangle the copy - made spare from your pointer finger, trekking your way up to the door and letting yourself in, wiping at your wind-whipped, wet eyes. You know he’s not on the first floor, its entirety dark and a little cool. So you toss your coat and keys onto the small table beside the entryway, kicking off your boots to join his on the cheesy welcome mat, and you make your way to the second floor landing to his bedroom. Seeing a buttery glow spill out from the crack in his doorway, you’d proceeded, only to be met with a sight that only appeared in your late night fantasies… and pretty much your every waking thought.

Steve is facing his mattress, sheets tousled and clothing pooled beside him, stood on the left side of his bed, naked and glistening in the perspiration of teasing, observing his massive length as he edges himself, moving the toy slowly over his cock. You know what it is, you’ve seen it in magazines and stores, in some porn. A fleshlight, they call it. Your brain goes through a million thoughts at a couple seconds to spare.

Why doesn’t he have someone here to do this with? He can get a date?

Is he okay? Obviously he’s very okay.

Holy fuck… he’s big.

Holy fuck… he’s beautiful.

A little more than usual, waiting on the summer sun to tan his freckle and mole spattered skin. His hair has grown longer, curling at the nape, his shoulder blades and biceps defined from a regular regime. And that ass, the way it flexes and is perfectly plump, connecting to those hairy thighs and big feet, his own toes curling when he twists, a wet squelch coming from the faux cunt. There’s beautiful chestnut curls scattered across him sternum and connecting to a trail that surrounds his base and those full, heavy, balls. That cock… thick, barely able to be pushed back into the toy, his fingers having to peel back its soft pink layers to help ease the slick way, decorated in a vein that matches the one running along his forearm

And you must make some sort of noise, because your lips part to let in a gasp of air, causing his body to twist in a sudden defensive stance, clenching the toy so tight with a ‘caught’ pose. You go to move and the door spills open completely, slamming back into his dresser and shaking old sports trophies. You’re panting, seeking out the words to apologize, Steve is wincing from how hard he still is, attempting to cover his modesty. But the air shifts in the room and you gain a boldness, a restlessness that won’t be satiated, nor a conscience satisfied if you don’t ask.

“Can I help you?” A customer service line from working at Scoops with him. But it comes naturally.

Steve, biting his lip, disheveled — he nods. And it’s happening. A tickling ease, a line crossed.

“C’mhere.” He’s waving with his opposite hand. His ribcage expands as he gulps in lungfuls of air.

You’re at his side shortly, shyly. “W-what do you need me to do?”

His spare hand pushes back through his hair, amber gaze gone to a midnight sky, teeth milky white, defined jawline covered in stubble, and a perfect nose. His voice is raspy when he lets you know what he needs.

“Go get on my bed, lay back for me. Please?”

A fucking gentleman.

All of your clothes feel too tight, smothering you as you lay back on his bed, his pillow immediately invading you. Your hands are unsure of where to go, but he approaches slowly, kneeling his way into kneeling by your feet. “I’m gonna… Can I use this between your legs, honey? You don’t have to do anything, just let me do all the work.” He motions to the toy and you want nothing more, suddenly offered the world.

It’s your turn to say it now. “C’mhere.”

He’s using that enriched tendon covered forearm to prop himself up beside of your head, slotting right between your knees, his remaining hand wrapped so tightly around the toy that his skin is pulled taunt over his knuckles. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, releases it, licks it, and then he’s asking, “Can I?”

“Go. Do what you need to do. I’m right here, Steve.”

If you thought the toy was loud before, the sound of him working his lengthy girth through its walls right in front of you now — it’s surround sound. You’re watching, unable to help it, bones threaten to be dusted to ash from how hard your heart is ramming beneath your breastbone.

“Wanted to come over, but it’s been a shit week, an even shitter day. And I just needed to —“

“— Release some tension, right? I get it, I do it too. I have a cock that goes… I —“ you stop your horny rambling, face feeling too much warmed.

Steve’s face scrunches, teeth gritting, and he twists the toy until slowing it almost completely. “Tell me what you do. You fuck yourself with it, right? When everything is too much and not enough? Fuck, honey.”

He doesn’t verbalize, but you don’t either, simply accept the toy and hold it against your denim covered cunt, leaving Steve’s hands free to hold on either side of you, his nose nudging yours as he leans down — here, present. You copy his earlier motions, using the toy to glide along his length as he thrusts into it with a new focussed vigor. “That’s it. You feel so good, honey. Workin’ me so right.”

“I’m soaking — fucking — wet for you, Steve. Just so you know.”

His hips stutter and his nose finds its way into your eyelashes, cheek pressing into your own. “Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum into this thing, and I want —“

“— You want what, Steve?” You hold your breath.

He answers without fear or pause. “You.”

// Eat me paragraph //

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sleepyangelkami · 7 hours

Text

TOUCH STARVED (s.h)

a/n: me. what?

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: you were too shy to speak up for what you wanted, even to your boyfriend for something so simple. fortunately for you, he always seem to know exactly what you need.

warnings: mention of pussy whipped, reader has hair, light insecurity, (1) use of y/n, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 💙

words: 2,353

walking into family video, steve swore he'd never seen such a glum face.

your expression was saddened, not enough to look upset over something but just enough to tell steve what kind of day you'd been having. and believe me, he'd had his fair share of these kind of days.

"you doofus, that's not how you do it." robin argued, as she always was. nothing steve could do for her ever deemed to be the 'right way' however, before he could give back a snappy argument, he snapped his head towards you, the bells of the store giving a quick ring.

robin looked up confused as she received no snarky comeback before glancing towards you. she could have rolled her eyes, how pussy-whipped was this guy? "hey, y/n." she greeted first, watching as steve stepped away from the counter.

"hi, rob." you gave her a sweet, almost shy smile, she returned it in full. robin was very well used to you getting in these little moods, sort of where you shy into yourself. she'd never mentioned it, though, sort of assuming that was just how you were.

"hey, honey." steve was by your side in an instant, snatching up your bag from you so he could hold it. the sight of him had you leaning into him, almost fluttering your eyes shut. a sudden overwhelming feeling of tiredness fell over you. "you okay?"

he was craning his neck to look at you, you merely nodded. "tired." you answered before making your way behind the counter with him.

technically, you shouldn't be behind the counter and if keith were here, he'd surely have something to say about it. but he wasn't.

family video was having one of them slow days that consisted in hardly five customers an hour while steve and robin argued relentlessly on working the stupid computer that had been around way too long for anyone's liking.

you sat on one of the chairs with steve's arm around you. for as long as you could remember, he'd always been like this. touchy.

and truthfully? you were thankful. some days, all you needed was his touch and you didn't even have to ask, merely hold out a hand shyly and it was in yours. but on days like this, even an arm constantly around your shoulder wasn't enough.

your fingers had trailed up to mess with his. his large hand was relatively big in yours, you could lean against his shoulder all the while. in all of this, you could have fallen asleep.

though, that deemed hard with robin and steve's constant arguing. "you idiot!" steve yelled, pushing buttons at the computer and sort of dragging you as he did so. "you're gonna break it!"

"and what if i did?" she argued back. "not like it's worth anything." she would have kicked the computer, had she been right. unfortunately, the computer was worth something, her job.

steve sat himself back on the chair with a scowl before glancing to you.

even the mere sight of you was always enough to calm him down.

"sorry." he mumbled, knowing he was disturbing whatever peace you were getting. you merely waved him off before going back to playing with his fingers.

a couple more customers came in and fled all the same, renting movies that robin and steve would then gossip about as soon as they'd leave the store. oh yeah, horrible movie. i heard the sequels even worse!

it was best for you to leave them do this.

and by seven, it was time to lock up. you stood outside, waiting for steve who was using the key to pull down the store gate.

robin's head came out from underneath, holding her satchel bag. "night guys!" she called after you without turning around. she didn't even have a drivers license so you weren't entirely sure how she was getting home. nonetheless, you'd learned that it was better not to question robin.

"night!" steve called back before turning to you and rolling his eyes. "that girl." he only shook his head and shut his eyes, concealing his obvious irritation towards his best friend.

you only grinned back sheepishly, knowing they despised yet loved one another dearly.

it wasn't until you were sat in the passenger seat of his car, gazing out the window while your hands fiddled with his fingers that sat atop your thigh that he noticed something was wrong. earlier, you'd shrugged it off as mere tiredness and he supposed he believed you.

the night sky was dark and the hot air coming from the car was enough to lull anyone to sleep. yet still, he had a gnawing feeling that you weren't telling him the whole truth.

you weren't a liar, no. steve would say you were many things, never a liar.

however, you had the tendency to hide things from him. not overly important things like seeing someone else or something or other. you just had the tendency to not speak much about your feelings unless directly asked. you'd shy away and sheepishly shrug, not wanting to bother him.

you always had that fear of burdening him.

as the relationship progressed, he noticed this. he too had the fear of burdening. but slowly, you both began to break out of your shells. him undeniably much faster than you.

the stillness of his house told you it was home. the porch lights were on as he led you inside, hand on the small of your back. a couple lights were left on in the house too.

not the large, centre lights.

the warm lamps illuminating the entire house in a cozy aura.

you weren't too sure how you moved from the door to the couch so quickly. nonetheless, you relaxed into the material as the sound of you and steve's show began to play. a new episode every week. it was a ritual in the harrington house. and by that, i mean just you and him.

steve didn't miss the glances you kept shooting him. whether intentional or not, he could see from the corner of his eye, your head move to look at him and suddenly look back at the screen before he could catch you.

when he did, though, he caught exactly what he needed.

you were looking at him all doey, presumably tired however there was something else in your eye, something that gave you completely away.

a longing.

suddenly, everything clicked.

there was a reason you'd been leaning into him so much today, following him around silently like a lost puppy dog. not that he minded, no, he never minded. but he knew something had been wrong and that you didn't think you had voice enough to speak on it.

"what's wrong with you, huh?" he nudged you, voice ever so gentle. though he knew what you wanted, he sort of wanted you to tell him. "been quiet all day."

you leaned your head against the back of the couch, eyes travelling over his pretty features. and he looked especially pretty in the dim lighting of the enormous living room. "'m always quiet." you countered.

in a way, you were far from wrong. more often than not, steve would have to beg you to speak to more people, try get out there because he knew you wanted to. once again, you feared your voice was much too small. "fair point. but you're more quieter today."

you pursed your lips at him. "just quieter." he hummed in confusion. "it's just 'quieter', more quieter isn't the right grammer."

a roll of his eyes was paired with a pretty grin. "see? there's my smart girl. where was she all day, hm? head cloudy?"

truthfully, you didn't know what was wrong. everything just felt so off, all day you'd wanted to be surrounded by him. his embrace, his words, his scent, his everything. and that was becoming a little too much when the cruel world reminded you that it was, in fact, impossible to morph into another human being by hugging them hard enough. "i don' know." you shrugged, voice sort of small.

but steve had been in the game much longer than you.

it started with the simple feeling of his fingers tracing against your cheeks, grasping a strand of hair and curling it between his index finger. he always thought you looked pretty with your hair framing your face. though you were undeniably beautiful in all aspects.

"there something you want?" he didn't ask it in an accusing way that made you sheepishly look away. he spoke ever so quietly, as if careful of disturbing the peace of his rarely quiet house.

once again, you shrugged.

"sweetheart." he gave you this look. this convincing, knowing, look. steve always had a way of communicating to you, even just through his eyes. it was enough for your heart to quench.

he looked as though he knew exactly what had been troubling you, like he knew exactly how to fix it.

how is it that steve harrington seemingly knew everything in the world? sometimes, even he made you feel a little silly. i mean, he was more tuned in with your emotions than you were.

the show that was playing on the tv was low, barely heard as his eyes searched your own. "you know you can ask for anything, yeah?" you nodded your head while chewing your bottom lip. because you did know. steve always made it easy for you to come to him with anything. yet even then, your own shy nature still prevented you from saying all the words that sat against the tip of your tongue. the universe tended to be cruel like that. "c'mere, honey."

his outstretched arms looked like the heaven you'd been searching for.

without second thought, you found yourself climbing into them, breathing out a sigh of relief as your cheek sat itself against his sweater-covered chest.

this is what you wanted.

his legs were outstretched, somewhere for you to sit against while your own wrapped themselves against his torso. there was something so comforting about the feeling of him against you.

he let you relax your face against him, lips shut tight as one of your hands came beneath your chin. while watching the animations flash across the television, you could feel his own arms slinging loosely around your waist, one hand gently playing with the strands of hair while the other traced against your back.

you supposed you weren't morphed into him but this was as good as it was going to get.

perhaps, this was all you needed.

he was gentle, soft and welcoming.

everything you'd been hoping for.

"this all you needed, hm?" the shapes he drew against your back began to feel a lot like words, a lot like 'i love you'. you nodded, humming ever so softly. "should've just asked, baby."

"i didn't wanna bother you." you mumbled, suddenly feeling like the whole thing had been just a little silly.

you felt his hand against your chin, gently tilting it upwards so you could meet his eye. "you never bother me." and you could tell by the chocolatey swirl in his eyes. he wasn't lying.

perhaps two hours passed since that very moment. steve watched the show episode until it ended, flicking on the television programme that was simply on. he could feel your soft breaths against the nape of his neck, hands outstretched towards him.

you'd fallen asleep in his embrace.

he often told you not to watch the show so late if you would fall asleep albeit you always insisted that you wouldn't. low and behold, he was right. he was always right.

and when the final programme ended, and he deemed it was late enough, he decided it was time to get you into bed.

instead of waking you, he opted to pick you up, carrying you upstairs and surely almost dropping you a total of three times because he couldn't register where he was putting his feet. yet eventually, he made it towards the bedroom and placed you against the bed. the warm blankets soon were draped over your body.

and after all the rustling, the thing that stirred you was the creek of the door.

he watched as your eyes parted, obviously still slick with sleep, and cursed himself. he thought, who, as rich as him, would own a door that creeks so loudly? and made a mental note to get new hinges.

"you okay, angel?" he mumbled into the darkness of the room, slipping off his jeans and slipping into bed with you.

"mm." you hummed as he grasped your body again, holding you close. your arms hugged themselves around his neck, shutting your eyes closed. "wanna melt into you." you mumbled, obviously too tired to register what you were saying.

"yeah?" a chuckle fell from his lips, knowing you would never have the confidence to say such a thing while wide awake. nonetheless, he took it as a compliment anyway. "we should try turkey then."

"what's in turkey?" you questioned tiredly.

"i don't know. everything? i mean, if they can give you a new set of teeth, surely they have the answer to your problems too. we can like, melt ourselves together." he was talking nonesence, though it was lulling you back to sleep anyway.

the sound of your sleepy giggle had him holding his breath, wondering if this was all real. "let's go to turkey then."

"i'll put it on our bucket list, angel." you nodded your head, without response. "you goin' to sleep on me? hm?"

"can you..." you cut yourself off with a breath. then, you reminded yourself that it was steve harrington, the boy you loved more than yourself. and you could ask him anything. "can you keep talking?"

"careful what you wish for, i might not shut up." you only giggled gently before allowing him to continue. "did i ever tell you about dustin's girlfriend?" you shook your head. "oh god, you should have seen it..."

this, you were sure, is where you could actually die happy.

main masterlist/steve's masterlist

a/n: had a nap earlier, now i can't sleep.

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fairyysoup · 9 months

Text

i can see you

♫︎ i can see you - taylor swift ♫︎

pairing(s): steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: The secret history of your long and arduous relationship with Steve Harrington.

aka: the 5 times you pined over each other, and the time you actually did something about it

words: 17.6k (we're NOT gonna talk about it lol)

cw: explicit, smut, piv sex, flirting, making out, heavy petting, slight exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), fingering, marking, biting, steve harrington has a big dick, themes of infidelity/cheating (sort of), skipping out on dates, bad dates, steve steal-your-girl harrington, almost-kisses, jealous!steve, jealous!reader, possessive behavior, smoking, alcohol consumption, allusions to marriage but it's never actually mentioned, canon compliant, reader and steve are the same age, 5+1 things, songfic, angst, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, pining, mutual crush, slow burn one shot, mild twist ending, begins in season two (1984) and ends in the 90s, high school, scoops ahoy era, family video era, waiter!steve, steve harrington (the eras tour), vignette, one instance of billy hargrove slander, original characters created for plot, inspired by i can see you by taylor swift, other taylor song inspo throughout bc i'm insane like miss swift

a/n: hi and welcome to ✨rose's mental breakdown✨ yes this song will be my number one on spotify wrapped bc i listened to it on a loop for five days straight while writing this. idk. anyways this is So Much and i'm tired of looking at it so if there are any mistakes i apologize. anyways whoever can point out the most taylor song references aside from the obvious titular one gets a doubloon

ALL OF MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

read here

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #roses*

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loveshotzz · 2 months

Text

I guess it’s never really over

mechanic!steve harrington x fem!reader exes to lovers

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

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

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington series #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader smut

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schoopsahoy · 1 year

Text

more than just friends

steve harrington x female!reader {3.1k} you and your best friend have gotten into the habit of making out, as long as there's no touching. but that's easier said than done. no use of y/n, not proofread 18+ mdni

cw: mutual masturbation, unprotected p in v sex

No touching.

That was the rule that you and Steve had settled on, because making out with your best friend is totally okay as long as there’s no touching. Sure, a hand on a waist or a cheek is alright - anything more is off limits.

Your rule worked fine at first, but recently the two of you seem to keep pushing the boundary. Just a little each time - like the way you’ll leave hickies on each other and not make much of an attempt to hide them, or how Steve has you underneath him with a leg in between your thighs and there’s just enough pressure to make your head a little dizzy.

His mouth is kissing softly against the lilac bruise he’s left under your jaw, and you’re having to use all your self control to not press yourself down against his leg for the friction your body is craving. You feel so tightly wound, the fact you know it can’t go any further only makes you crave it more, your stomach in knots and heart pounding in your chest.

“Steve.” It comes out as a whine, all desperate and you’d probably be embarrassed if it were anyone else who was kissing down your neck. You only get a hum as a response, Steve too focused on marking up your skin to realize you weren’t just saying his name as some encouragement. “Steve.” You’re a little firmer this time, voice not as breathy as before and it’s enough to finally bring his attention back to your face.

“Hm, what? Y’wanna stop?” His lips are all slick and swollen from his work on your throat, pupils a little blown as he stares down at you. He pushes some of your hair out of your face, loose strands that he can tuck behind your ear and the gentle act only has you aching more, the coil in your stomach twisting that bit tighter.

“No, no.” You breathe your words out, eyes closing as you almost laugh at the suggestion. “S’like, the opposite of what I want.”

Steve’s still stroking mindlessly at your hair, all soft and without a second thought. “You want more hickies?” His brow pinches with confusion, face a little scrunched up and you hate that all you can think about is how cute he is, how much you want him. “‘Cause I can do that, but y’might get in trouble at work.”

“No, not that.” You sigh, pressing your lips together as you battle with yourself over saying what you actually mean. “I want more, y’know?”

“More?” He watches you nod below him, cheeks all flushed and you can’t hold his gaze. “What, like you wanna get off?” His voice is a little teasing, a grin tugging on his lips as you try to hide your face with your hands.

“God, I d’know.” You groan, suddenly all shy even though you know you don’t have to be. “I guess, maybe, yeah.” Steve taps your arms, a silent signal for you to uncover your face and you do, reluctantly. “I know we said no touching, but like, I feel like I’m gonna explode or somethin’.” You try to cover how serious you are with a laugh, hoping it’ll make it easier to play off if Steve completely shuts you down.

“I mean, there’s ways around that.” The way Steve’s smiling at you has your stomach doing somersaults.

“There is?”

“Sure, if you really want to.” He leans down to press a kiss on your lips, something small and barely there that has you chasing his mouth for more when he pulls away. “D’you want to?”

“Don’t be a dick, Steve.” You whine, head tipping back because of course he’s dragging it on, drawing it out of you as if you’re not already so tightly wound that you feel like you might snap any second. “Go on then, what's your loophole?”

“We can just get ourselves off, together.” He shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You feel like your body is pressing harder into your mattress now, like gravity suddenly got stronger and you’re stuck in your spot with no way to move and Steve is looking down at you with his big brown eyes and a smirk tugging at his lips. You think your skin must be hot to the touch at this point, your temperature climbing and climbing because you’re about to get off with your best friend. You kind of wish you weren’t sober right now, craving the liquid confidence that comes with the buzz from a couple of drinks.

“Yeah, okay.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, looking up at Steve through your lashes suddenly all shy but the way he’s looking at you, all fondness and lust and like he’s been craving this too, makes you feel a little more confident.

As soon as you say the words, his lips are back on yours. It’s all hot and heavy with the way he’s licking into your mouth, different to how he usually kisses you - a little dirty and it’s enough to rip the air from your lungs and have you panting whenever he pulls away.

“Don’t be shy, baby, it’s just us.” He whispers against your lips, breath tickling your skin and the way he calls you baby has your hairs standing on end. He takes one of your hands in his own, guiding it down your body towards your already wet core. “You got it, just relax.” He coos, only moving his hand once you take the step and dip yours beneath your pyjama shorts.

You start slow, lazy circles rubbed over your panties because you’re still a little shy with it all. Steve’s placing soft kisses all over your face and neck, mumbling words of encouragement as he palms at himself through his sweatpants. Neither of you brave enough to shed any clothing yet, because sure you’ve been friends for years and spent countless summer days by Steve’s pool wearing far less but this was different.

You try to stifle your moans by biting down on your bottom lip, a little whimper trying to escape each time you brush over your clit and Steve can see the way your chest hitches as you try to control it.

“Y’don’t have to be shy, not with me.” He nudges his nose against yours, voice all soft and all you can manage is to nod wordlessly at him as he sits up to pull his shirt over his head. He tosses it to your bedroom floor, not that you saw where it went because you can’t stop staring at him - the way his muscles move with each motion, skin all tanned from the summer sun and you really, really hate your no touching rule now.

You squeeze your eyes shut before wriggling out of your own top, it’s a little easier when you can pretend like your best friend isn’t watching your every move. You do, however, regret not wearing a bra because you’re suddenly feeling all too exposed and a little - or maybe a lot - self conscious.

You go to try and cover yourself, one eye barely open to peer at Steve who’s looking at you like you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re so hot.” His voice sounds spent, all breathy and strained and you suddenly feel a lot less exposed. If you weren’t already so hot with it all, you’re sure all your blood would be running to your cheeks.

Your eyes travel down to watch Steve stroking himself beneath his sweatpants, still constrained by them and his boxers but you can see how hard he is and feel your core clenching around nothing just at the thought of him.

It all seems to move so quickly once you start shedding clothes, like stripping back that layer has taken away all the shyness and uncertainty you felt and replaced it with some insatiable longing for something more, anything more.

You finally dip beneath your panties, wet fabric cold against your skin as you run a finger through your slick, gathering it up before rubbing tight circles against your clit. You can’t help but whimper with it all, the way Steve’s looking at you as he touches himself and how sensitive you are already, body reacting to each touch like they’re laced with electricity. “Oh my god.” You tip your head back, blinking hard as you try to breathe through the way you can feel the pressure build up in your stomach.

“Jesus, fuck, y’look so good.” Steve’s kneeling in between your legs, his free hand against your cheek and thumb rubbing softly against your skin. “Y’gonna take those off for me?” He nods down to your shorts. “Gonna let me see you?”

“Fuck, Steve.” You mewl, eyes meeting his as you continue rubbing your clit. “Y’want that? Wanna watch me touch myself?” You’re not sure where this faux confidence has come from, because it even shocks you when you say it but the way Steve reacts - a deep groan of your name and his pace against himself increasing - has your head spinning.

“God, yeah, please, I want that.” You don’t need anymore encouragement, hands tugging your shorts and panties down your legs to be discarded to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You go to tug and Steve’s waistband, to even the playing field so you’re not the only one fully exposed, but hover your hand there because the lines are all blurred now and you don’t know what’s okay anymore. You think you might be a little bit fucked. “You wanna help me? Y’can do that, it’s okay.”

His tones all soothing and his hand guides yours back to his sweatpants so you can pull them down his legs along with his boxers. You knew Steve was big, you’ve felt him get hard when you’ve been straddling him when you make out, but actually seeing him has you clenching around nothing again, your body desperate to be filled by something other than your own fingers.

It’s all a little messy, because Steve’s leaning over you and kissing all down your neck and onto your chest and your hands keep knocking against each other as you both try to chase your highs. It’s driving you a little mad each time his hand bumps yours, so close to your cunt but never quite getting there, the frustration building in you as you dip a finger inside yourself in an attempt to get some sort of relief.

Steve looks down between the two of you, watches you try to settle on a rhythm as you pump your finger into yourself and whine at how it’s never quite right. Like it’s just missing that spot that would finally send you tumbling over the edge, so close to being what you need but falling short each time.

“Steve.” The way you say his name has him groaning again, because you sound so desperate and needy and his cock is so close to your cunt and God does he want to fuck you. Abandon all the boundaries you’ve spent so long obeying because you look so perfect underneath him and he just wants to look after you, make you feel good like he knows he can. “Please.”

It’s like you don’t need to say anything more, he already knows what you’re asking for, what you want from him. “Please what, baby?” He gives you that stupid grin as he rubs the tip of his cock against your core, running it up and down your slick eliciting a whine from you each time it nudges your clit.

“Want you.” You’re so wound up that you can barely force any words out, brain all muddled from how desperate you are to just be touched. “Want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck, yeah, y’sure?” You just nod at him, eyes all wide and chest heaving and he can see the way you squirm with each movement he makes against you, so sensitive and wound up. “Y’gotta tell me, use your words.”

“M’sure, Steve, please.” You’re practically begging now, blinking hard because you can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and you don’t want to cry but you’re just so needy and your body feels like it’s on fire with it all.

Steve kisses your temple, thumb swiping under your eyes where the skins a little wet from the tears that are welling up. “Oh, honey, don’t cry, I’ve got you.” He hushes you, hand moving from your face to hold yours as he uses the other to line up against your entrance. “Gonna make you feel so good, yeah?”

As soon as he starts to press into you, it’s like all the pent up energy inside your stomach is ready to release. The way his cock stretches you out, slow thrusts so it doesn’t hurt you too bad as he kisses you all soft and you find yourself thinking that this doesn’t really feel like you’re just friends messing about anymore.

Your free hand finds purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into the skin and leaving little half moons there that’ll probably still be there in the morning. Your breath hitches in your chest with each thrust, a little whimper spilling from your mouth as Steve squeezes your hand. “Doin’ so good for me, takin’ me so well.” His words are whispered against your skin, and you feel him hum against it when he finally bottoms out inside you.

He sits there for a moment, letting you adjust to him but he can feel you clenching you around him and it sends his head spinning a little. You rock your hips against him, your voice still caught in your throat so this is the best way you can think of to tell him to move. He seems to get it though, a small chuckle at your antsy movements before he starts to rock his hips into you.

It’s still a slow pace, agonizingly so almost. Because you’re so tightly wound at this point, teetering on the edge just to be pulled back over and over and never quite get there. You don’t say anything though, don’t push for Steve to move faster or harder because he’s still holding your hand and mumbling praises into your neck over and over and it feels about as soft as fucking your best friend can.

After a couple minutes he does quicken his thrusts, you still mewling underneath him each time the tip of his cock nudges the soft spot inside you that you can never quite reach yourself. His free hand hitches one of your legs up higher, fingers spread wide against the soft skin of your thigh so he can bring it up to his waist and get deeper inside you.

“Jesus, Steve, feels so good.” You manage to mumble something out, words a little slurred from how tight your chest feels because you’re already so close and your heart is beating so hard you can almost hear it. “M’so close.” Everything you say comes out as a whine, not that you mean it to, but Steve likes it. Likes that it’s him who’s got you so blissed out.

“Yeah? Y’gonna cum for me? Such a good girl.” He soothes, voice all sickly sweet but still a little filthy. He thrusts into you harder now, watching the way your back arches up off the bed for him when he gets real deep. When his fingers start rubbing against your clit you know you’re done for, the messy circles against your nerves and the way he’s buried so deep inside you and looking at you like you’re the only important thing in the world right now is all too much for you.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” You moan as you feel the tether inside you finally snap, wound so tightly that when it finally releases it has you seeing white as you squeeze your eyes shut and grip onto Steve even harder than before.

“You’re okay, I got you.” Steve keeps rocking his hips into you through your high, letting you squeeze his hand so tight that you would definitely feel bad about it if you weren’t so preoccupied. “So pretty for me, y’so perfect.” He keeps running his mouth with praises as he chases his own high, thrusts getting a little sloppy as he gets closer, feeling you squeeze him as you came enough to have him almost there already. “I’m so - fuck - m’so close, where should I cum?” He’s blinking hard to try and keep himself controlled enough to at least last until you tell him.

You’re still trying, and failing, to catch your breath. Body still feeling like it’s charged with electricity, all your nerves on high alert as you try to come down from your climax whilst Steve still pounds into you.

“M’on the pill.” You exhale, words barely audible over the sounds of Steve fucking into you. “Can cum inside, want you to.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Steve groans, head tucked into the crook of your neck as his movements become a little sloppier and fall out of rhythm as he reaches his own climax, hips stuttering as he whispers about how good you feel and how pretty you are as he spills inside you.

He stays inside you after he’s finished, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath amidst pressing gentle kisses to your face. You don’t want to admit how much you like it, not just the fucking but the intimacy of it all. Your hands are still intertwined, fingers locked with each other and neither of you make any attempt to unhook them.

“Think we did that wrong.” You mumble, a shy smile on your lips as Steve pauses his kisses to look at you. His eyes still look all dark and wide, thick lashes blinking slow at you as he grins, shaking his head.

“Yeah, think the whole ‘no touching’ things kinda out the window now.” He glances down to where he’s still buried inside you, and despite everything it’s still enough to have you feeling all shy. “I don’t mind though, if you don’t.” He looks at you, eyes full of affection and a soft smile as he waits for you to answer. It’s always no pressure with Steve, never pushing you for anything or making you uncomfortable - you’re always his first priority. It makes your heart ache a little, in a good way.

“I don’t mind.” It’s a roundabout way of expressing your feelings, neither of you pushing it any further right now because it’s enough. You know each other so well that you don’t need to say more, reading between the lines and letting things happen slowly. Maybe you’re not as fucked as you thought you were.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut

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munsonsreputation · 3 months

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i can't talk to you when i'm like this

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [2.1K]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, reader has a history of shitty ex's, steve accidentally makes reader cry, a lot of angst regarding past relationships (feelings wise), steve's shitty childhood & terrible dad (brief), fluff at the end (yes because i am a softie)

summary: steve never raises his voice at you, but the first time he does, you can’t find it in yourself to tell him what's really bothering you when you’re seconds away from breaking down.

You hate how the tears coming springing to your eyes the second Steve raises his voice a little too loudly beneath his already apparent annoyance.

Your brain blanks out the second it bellows against the walls and comes hurtling down to your eardrums. It feels like glass shattering in a million different ways, cutting you open and killing you with a thousand cuts.

He’s frozen in front of you, blinking with a look of oblivion on his face because he’s waiting. His arms still held wide open after he asked a question: one that was posed with a tone too sharp for your liking.

“Why are you making it such a big deal?”

His usually sweet and gentle tone was long gone, or at least that’s how you heard it. Instead, it dribbled with irritation and resentment meshed all in one. The kind that sounded like he was fed up and wanted nothing to do with you anymore.

He was just trying to do a sweet thing by picking you both up some coffee and yet here you were starting an argument — you always had to ruin a good thing.

Your teeth dig into your gums, trying to find any way to hold off on the waterworks that you know are about to pour any second now. Cloudy orbs shoot down to your bare feet, trembling against the floorboards while you excuse yourself from the kitchen.

“I’m g-going to the bathroom.”

Your voice is delicate yet not the kind that Steve knows like the back of his hand — the one where you keep it so quiet like an oath when you whisper you love him when you think he’s asleep and no one else is around to hear it.

This time the oath is broken, cracked, just like your voice, torn at the seams between fear and panic. Its edges are frayed and tattered, and its tenderness that is usually formed out of affection is long gone as it cuts through your chest and causes your back to heave as you walk away.

He knows he messed up.

It’s stupid. You shouldn’t be so worked up over the barista leaving her number on Steve’s cup. But you are. You’re worked the hell up and you want him to understand why it is such a big deal to you.

It’s upsetting because you shouldn’t be this wound up and insecure. You know Steve would never even dare to dial the numbers left on the cup, let alone remember the name she left on there. He’s head over heels in love with you the same way you are with him — yet you just don’t get it.

You don’t get the way this makes your insides turn and the thoughts to start whirlwind in your head. At first you were just upset about the number, maybe even just mildly irked — but then the second Steve’s voice came to you like that… that’s when you entirely forgot how to even tell him how you felt.

Now you just felt stupid for making it such a big deal and turning it into this.

“Breathe….” you murmur to yourself jaw trembling as you try not to tense.

The tears finally roll when your back collides with the bathroom door and your shaky fingers lock it shut. Your heart feels like it’s on fire, one that consumes your entire being and engulfs you in the bluest blue instead of the blazing red.

The only thing keeping you from collapsing is the door that’s holding up your weight and it’s not long after that the person you love yet are avoiding is on the other side making it more difficult for you to attempt to make it seem like it’s not a big deal.

“B-baby… I’m so sorry.”

The apology comes in an instant, and you could almost feel his breath hitting your neck from behind the wood. You know it’s genuine…Steve has never ever made you cry. You feel now like you’ve taken everything out of proportion — you should’ve just giggled and said ‘oh that’s cute! too bad you’re my boyfriend!’

All of the things you wished you would have said play in your mind like punishment for the way you’ve acted. How you know you’ve turned the tables on him and made him look like the bad guy when he was far from that.

He was just shocked to come home and hand you your favorite drink only to be asked about the barista he barely gave his attention to. Your accusing voice after he did something nice wasn’t something he was expecting.

Your throat tightened, eyes squeezing shut as you tried to cover it up and make it seem like you weren’t upset. You shuffled from the door, towards the sink, turning it on yet making no move to put your hands under the water.

“I’m fine! I—I just had to wash my face!” You lie, trying to cover your tracks as if Steve doesn’t already know it.

There’s been times when things have upset you, not things that Steve has done, but things that life throws at you and most of the times you hate how wound up you get. Without failure, you sneak away, just wanting a moment by yourself to cry without anyone feeling bad for you or asking questions because they’ll never get it. They don’t understand that the littlest things can trigger something inside of you to completely shut down from the rest of the world.

No one gets it… but Steve does.

“Baby,” His voice is stronger this time, yet tender, “please, can I come in? I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean…”

Your fingers finally come in contact with the frigid water, dabbing the droplets over your eyes attempting to get them to settle instead of looking like you were just crying. There’s a sniffle that comes from you as you clear your airways and a pathetic smile that you press onto your face to try to hide how you’re really feeling.

The water shuts off and you’re opening the door, cutting his apology off altogether.

“I’m fine, Steve!”

Your voice isn’t swaying even with the volume it carries and neither with the faint laugh you give him when you meet face to face. Your lashes still bear the droplets of salt and your cheeks tinted red with the path they’ve traveled down.

He can feel the pain in your voice and see the wobble of your chin as you hold back everything inside. He hates that you feel like you have to mask how you’re really feeling when, in actuality, you should be furious at him for what he did.

“Baby,”

Sadness joins his concern, and he doesn’t bother to hide it — he’s not sure he can when his eyes leak the same emotion, “Baby, you’re not fine…I know you’re not fine.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes unconvincingly. “I literally am, babe… it’s cool. Everything is fine.”

He knows that now you’re trying to reassure yourself rather than him. Trying to play it off and make it seem like everything was okay. Like he’s just supposed to accept it and let you hold everything inside like torture when that’s far from what he wants.

Your attempts to brush past him are futile when his hands come out to hold your shoulders, his fingertips kneading your tense skin. He can feel the blood rushing from under your clothes and it’s not the kind of warmth you usually carry — you are blistering and if he looks hard enough, he can see the way your chest is trying to level itself out as you hold back.

It takes everything in you to not draw your eyes away from his because you don’t want him to know that you’re still feeling it. Feeling stupid and at the same time nothing at all because you don’t know what to feel anymore. There’s a whirlwind of emotions and none of them you can put a finger on because you’re just lost.

You just don’t want him to think you’re crazy… like you reacting to him raising his voice like that was something that would daunt him away.

One of his hands stops its movement on your skin, raising up to your cheek and cradling you gently. There’s a crease between his brows and his eyes seep with regret and guilt. His lips part and the words that leave them come in whispers and fragility — croaks and cracks guiding them.

“Everything isn’t fine… I acted like an idiot and raised my voice at you. I’m sorry baby, I—I never meant to do that on purpose. It just came out, but that isn’t an excuse.” He shakes his head at himself disappointingly because he knows better.

Steve was far from perfect in his own eyes, but he knew better because all his life if there was one person he didn’t want to be like, it was his dad. The dad that used to scream at his mother, and scream at him, and scream at the world when everything went wrong, and didn’t know how to talk if it wasn’t screaming.

He’d never forgive himself if he made you feel that way or even became a smidge of what his father was. But it wasn’t him who he was blaming for this — this was all Steve himself, and he knew that. Accountability needed to be taken from himself because the only person he was hurting was you and it was going to be okay.

Not in the heat of the moment, not ever.

You hadn’t even noticed you had tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, the faint taste of iron trickling onto your tongue when you realized you were biting down on the skin too hard trying to stop yourself from crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby, please just—just tell me how to make it better.” His voice pleads and reasons, wanting to make it right with you anyway he could.

You close your eyes, letting the tears fall as you feel his thumbs wipe them away. He’s done this times before, wiping away your tears that had spewed from another’s doing. Never did he ever think he would be the cause.

“I-it’s nothing… it’s stupid, I’m stupid and dramatic.” You swallow thickly, sniffling and twisting your fingers in your hand to fight off the lingering feelings.

He shakes his head. The obvious look of disapproval for your words covers his face because this was far from your fault. Sure, he was bewildered about the whole incident, considering he didn’t even know the number was left there until you brought it up, but for him to not know how to convey his frustration better was the real issue at hand.

Not the accusation, not the stupid number, not the oblivious girl who left her number: it was him, Steve’s idiotic actions that got you both here.

“Stop, don’t talk to yourself like that.” He insists, staring deeply into your eyes, searching for a reason why you were blaming yourself,

Your jaw shakes roughly before a sob rips through your mouth. Tightening your eyes to try to get the tears to stop, yet they don’t cease no matter how hard you try. Frustration builds inside of you because you should be over it by now. The fact that he apologized and was here trying to comfort you should be enough.

But something inside of you won’t let it die. The silence is filled with the memory of his voice shouting at you and the face that he stared back with.

“I—I don’t want you to think there’s something wrong with me.” You croak, covering your face and turning away from him to save you the embarrassment.

But he strays to where you are, sticking beside you with a comforting hand resting on your back, “Sweetheart, nothing is—”

You sob one more, this time with a grunt that is direct to yourself. Stomping your foot against the cold tiles, your hands come down to grip the edges of the counter tightly. Your reflection in the mirror is only half of what you feel, and when Steve steps behind you, all you can see is guilt, but at the same time patience knowing he’s ready when you are.

You try your very best to at least keep your sobs at bay just enough for you to speak through them and for him to understand.

“You’re not gonna wanna be with me anymore knowing I can’t—I can’t talk to you when I’m like this! I don’t know why, but I can’t… it makes me feel stupid, like I’m crying over something so tiny and now I’ve totally forgotten why we were even arguing in the first place.”

He clicks his tongue, shaking his head and reaching in front of you to bring your hair back and away from your face. His eyes keep yours in the mirror, watching at you with such a gentleness that even now doesn’t falter.

“We weren’t arguing. I was just dumb and raised my voice when you were asking me about it.”

You move your sights from his to the bottom of the sink, shaking your head, “No, b-but I shouldn’t have reacted like that and made you look like the bad guy when yo—”

Your voice is traveling faster than you can think, spewing out words so hastily like you have to make him understand that it’s not his fault, but yours. It takes your breath away, hiccuping and coughing between a sob that leaves your mouth and bobbles in your chest.

Steve’s instantaneously rubbing your back, shushing you and trying to get you to calm down knowing you going on and on like this wouldn’t do you any good. He understands that you feel a lot of things very deeply and sometimes it isn’t an easy task to get them all out at once: he knows it and he’ll spend forever with you until you got it all out.

“Hey, hey, baby, c’mon… breathe,” He coos, his palm never stilling on your back feeling the deep breaths in and out, watching the tears fall down your cheeks and drip onto the counter.

It’s a kind of scene he hates to see, the one he wishes he could take from you and shoulder instead because watching you in such a state breaks his heart more than he could imagine. And this time it stings a little more knowing that he not only cannot shoulder your pain, but was the one creating it this time.

“Talk to me, please. What’s going on? Why’re so you upset at yourself and not at me?” He begs, trying to get a glimpse of what you’re feeling so he knows where the root is.

“B-because… I made it such a b-big deal.” You hiccup.

When you swipe angrily at your eyes with a ferociousness, that’s enough to make Steve step in and take it from here now that he knows where you’re coming from. A warm hand comes down onto your shoulder, pulling at you just enough for you to face him completely, weakly hanging your head low not knowing if you were strong enough to see him just yet.

“You didn’t make anything a big deal. I promise, we’re okay.” He whispers quietly, cupping your face in his hands, and bringing you face to face, “You’re not stupid and I could never think that you were. You’re human honey. It’s normal for you to be upset by things.”

“B-but I…I don’t want you to think you did something wrong—“

He stops you with a shake of his head. “But I did. I did something so wrong. I yelled when I shouldn’t have, and I made you feel like shit.”

Steve desperately needs you to know it. That this was his fault and no one else’s. That him making you feel like crap was the worst thing he could have ever done, but he was willing to man up to it and try to make things better, and at the same time he would understand if you wanted nothing to do with him after this.

Still, even after his words, you’re somehow even angrier at yourself, mind blaring at you for being such a dramatic person for making him go out of this way with all of this. That this was surely your fault and yours only, and if you didn’t take it off his plate, it was just something he would use against you one day to realize that he didn’t want to be with you anymore.

It’s what they all did — held it over your head and made you feel like you were wrong for feeling how you felt, so instead it was best not to feel anything at all. To hide it away and hope that being noncombative meant that everything was going to be okay and it wouldn’t give them a reason to run.

“I-it’s my fault—” You pinch your eyes, gulping back a cry as you shake your head in his hands.

His brows pull together, eyes squinting at you, not completely understanding why you’re doing this.

“Hey, stop, it’s not your fault. Don’t do that. Don’t take the fall for me,” Steve assures you with a sternness to his soft voice, continuing to wipe the seeping tears.

Somehow you can’t let it go, “But—”

“But nothing.” He starts, his voice composed yet unyielding in his tone.

He can’t stand it, clutching your face a little firmer, hoping that you would peek your eyes open to see him because he desperately needs you to. The second you do, your face twists again with heartache, praying that he would just let you go and walk out already, because by now, he probably thinks you’re insane — there’s no way he’s not thinking it.

His lips part, trying to find the right words to say, needing the perfect ones to get through you because he hates how you won’t let him take the fall, the one he so rightfully deserves to come crashing down on. You are everything to him and in some ways the feelings that you feel hit him right in the heart, and right now is no different, but there’s a wall between you both and his only goal is to knock it down completely.

“I—I don’t know why you feel like you have to protect me, but I promise you don’t.” He whispers, watching as you try to calm yourself, little sniffles going in and out and broken cries leaving your mouth.

His thumbs rub back and forth across your cheeks, soothing your withering skin. Slowly but surely your cries die little by little, eyes fixed on his, trusting that he means everything that he says, because Steve isn’t like the others — something that you should’ve known judging from his character alone.

“If I do something that makes you upset or sad, you should be able to voice that, not keep it in. I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t tell me when I’ve done something wrong. I—I want you to feel safe and okay around me, enough to know that my love for you isn’t gonna change, just because you bring something up. You have every right to be upset, and angry, and disappointed, everything.”

He says it like he means it and you know it’s because he does. He lets every word hang from the stars as if he put them up there, and points them out just for you to know that they are there and true, because that’s all he ever wanted. For you to know that every word he speaks comes from his heart, and no matter how many times he needs to repeat it, he’ll do it over and over again, just so you know it’s real and until you believe them and know he won’t ever break them.

“Don’t ever blame yourself for me, please? I-I don’t want you to do that to yourself because I’m here and…and every time I fuck up or make a mistake, I swear I’m gonna own up to it and try to fix it. But I’m not gonna let you take the blame, okay?”

Being with Steve for so long still feels so new, especially when you know he isn’t like the rest of the boys from your past. He’s patient and kind with a big heap of understanding. Like everyone else in the world, he’s guilty of his own poor moments, but he’ll be damned if he takes that out on you or makes you feel like it’s your responsibility.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He murmurs, letting his hands fall away from your face, letting you decide what the next move is.

The tears that escape are more so in between the remains of the sadness being washed away with tears of love and gratitude. Your arms wrap around his torso, pulling yourself into him and burying your face into his chest where the tears soak through his chest. Without a second thought, his arms envelop you, rocking you both back and forth as he presses kisses on the top of your head.

It mends your heart not merely because he’s just sorry, but because you didn’t get plenty of sorries before. Left only with sweeping things under the rug and pretending like nothing ever happened — it never solved anything and never gave you much.

But Steve gives you everything and so much more.

A big chunk of you feels like you don’t deserve him because he seriously is the best person with an even better soul wrapped up into one and yet he chooses you — every day. He sees you through all the good and the bad and never makes you feel like you’re alone even when you could be a distance away when you’re right beside him.

When you talk too much, say too little, or sometimes say nothing at all — he’s there giving you a listening ear and comforting shoulder to lean on whoever you need it. And on the days when you can’t talk to him when you’re like this… he’ll wait until you’re ready and show you that he’s always going to be there every step of the way.

He’s everything you could have asked for and more.

You pull your face away from hiding, resting your chin up on his chest as you stared up at him.

“I’m sorry too. I—I shouldn’t have been so indifferent earlier and just told you what I was feeling from the get-go.” You sniffled, rubbing your hands over his back, smiling faintly when he nodded understandingly.

He knows that sometimes he might not quite get it, might not see things in the same light as you, but he would never try to dismiss your feelings. He would sit beside you through the storms and sunshines, knowing that he was learning more about himself and you with you in his life.

That because of you, the younger version of himself got to heal his deepest wounds and open himself up to a love he only through he could dream up. You were here making him a better version of himself, all while he was doing the same for you. Showing you that the scars and fears of your past didn’t have to live in the next person you met — that you could let it go and open yourself up to the love you deserved.

His love.

“I forgive you only if you forgive me,” Steve grinned, swiping away at the dampness on your cheeks.

You grinned, nodding up at him. “Of course, I forgive you.”

“I love you so much… nothings ever gonna change that.” He hummed, cupping your face, taking you all in for the person he loved so dearly.

You closed your eyes blissfully before a kiss was placed on your lips.

“I know, I love you too.”

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: hi all, I hoped you like this little one-shot/imagine... i had this one sitting in my wips for awhile and it was nearly finished but I didn't have the inspiration to finish it until now. I don't usually write angst bcs i am a fluff girl, but this concept just came to me bcs like a lot of people when someone raises their voice at me...i just freeze and i don't know what to make of it and i just start crying. i think steve would be super apologetic and i wanted to write this bcs i needed some stevie!comfort so yeah... i hope you all enjoyed!!!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @keerysfolklore @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss @bakugouswh0r3

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