Tumgik
#steve harrington scenario
diqldrunks · 3 days
Note
“every night, i wake up from this one recurring dream” with steve harrington pls!!
-i feel like a best friends to lovers would be good in this setting
- one night they were hanging out and ended up kissing (quite literally a innocent kiss) but they both got “embarrassed” and didn’t speak about to one another for a while
-steve keeps waking up dreaming of that night because he’s in love with his best friend
I hope this makes sense!
INNOCENT KISSES — S. HARRINGTON
celebration post | nav | inbox
main masterlist | steve masterlist
a/n: nonnie i could kiss you this is such an adorable ask!!! sending much love and i hope you enjoy 💗(yes it makes perfect sense!)
cw/tw: PINING. PURE PINING.
*:・゚✧*:・゚
steve harrington was wide awake as he lay in his bed. it was some ridiculous time in the morning — one of those awkward hours between one and four that you dread waking up in.
he just couldn't help it — his brain seemed to be working on overdrive — just unable to shut off. if he wanted to, steve realised, he could blame you as, in a way, you were the reason for his sleepless night but, well, steve could never blame you for anything.
you were his best friend — the 'yin to his yang' as he often joked (not seeing the rising blush on your cheeks that you would hid). the two of you had been attached from the hip since you were kids and that wasn't changing anytime soon — well, if steve hadn't scared you off yesterday — when he kissed you.
he didn't mean to — well, that's not strictly true; he did mean it in the sense that he wanted to kiss you, but he didn't mean to actually go and do it. he wasn't thinking straight that must be it — or was it that he was finally thinking clearly?
and, the thing that was rushing through his mind as a million miles a minute was that you seemed and though you were kissing him back — well, until dustin ended up walking in on you two. he sighed, running a hand through his hair. if only he could see what was going on in your mind.
(if he could, all he would see would be a constant replay of steve kissing you, and you cussing out dustin in your head for interrupting before you could kiss him back)
(for my 150 followers celebration!)
steve taglist; @inkluvs @loveeharrington @if-i-see-you-every-tuesday @spaceagebachelormann @ivyppoison @starstruckwillows @tiny-bird-of-sunshine @masivechaos @iheartmoons @lafleshlumpeater
70 notes · View notes
ddejavvu · 5 months
Note
Steve stumbling over asking you out, so Robin gives him a push to try and get you to closer, to give Steve that extra shove... Except she pushes her bestie a bit too hard, and Steve ends up face first in your titties. Needless to say asking you out is not going as ‘king Steve’ planned. Although Steve and Robin are equally mortified over what just happened
The last thing you're expecting when you hear a half-hearted call of 'Watch out!' is a man's face in your chest. But that's exactly what you get, and it looks like neither he nor the girl who had warned you had expected it either.
"Holy shit!" The girl - you recognize her from band, Robin, you think? - gasps, and you mentally echo her sentiment while the man stumbles backwards trying to regain his balance. The top you're wearing at tonight's party is especially low-cut, and you'd felt every inch of his skin against your flushed chest. He doesn't end up catching his footing, falling backwards onto his ass on the floor instead.
Once you've got a clear look at his face, you process that it's none other than Steve Harrington. You're surprised he's at this party, you've heard they aren't really his thing anymore. He looks entirely defeated, face beet-red and shoulders tense as he peers warily up at you.
"I'm so sorry," Robin gushes, "I pushed him, and- I mean, I didn't mean for him to hit you, 'specially not nose-to-tits!"
Steve groans at her crude wording, "Shut up, Robin."
"I'm sorry," She repeats in earnest, ignoring her friend's pleas, "Um you're not- are you, like, hurt or anything?"
"Yeah, I speared 'em with my nose," Steve snaps, shoving at her thigh where he's slumped beside her legs on the floor, "Just shut up, Robin!"
"It's fine," You put an end to their squabbling, extending a hand towards Steve to help him off of the ground. You're not quite prepared for how bulky he is; perhaps he's still got his basketball physique, and when he takes it like a lifeline to pull himself up, you tip forward on your shaky legs right into his own chest.
You're trying to pull back before you've even made contact with his- shit, his surprisingly firm chest, but you still manage to face-plant slightly. There's a soft noise from Robin, then his hands come up to grab your shoulders and straighten you out.
"Sorry," You flush, mortified, "Uh- I'm a little drunk. Lost my balance, I guess."
"S'fine," Steve murmurs, looking a little bit like he might be sick, which isn't very reassuring. But his hands are still firmly planted on your shoulders, and you swear he's holding you closer than he needs to be.
"Well, now you're even," Robin concludes, slapping each of you on the back so that you jerk towards each other, if only a few measly inches, "I'm going to the bathroom, so if either of you wanna motorboat each other on purpose this time, you're free to do so."
This time, two voices call out, "Shut up, Robin!"
2K notes · View notes
appocalipse · 9 days
Note
heyy if ur taking requests could u maybe do like bestfriends steve + reader where steve, eddie, nancy and robin have to pick up reader from a party and she’s like REAL drunk and just idk super clingy w steve and doesn’t wanna not be touching him. maybe eddie, nancy and robin all make fun of him for it but they acc find it rly cute.
thank you for your request! ♥♥♥ | 2.2k words
"Stevie!"
You collide into him suddenly, nearly knocking him back a step or two with the force of your momentum; there's a smile on Steve's face when you look up at him through eyes that are more than a little hazy with inebriation. You're drunk. Probably way past drunk, if the way the world won't seem to hold still is anything to go by, but you don't care. There are other things vying for your attention—like how warm he feels against you, how safe he makes you feel, how pretty he looks from up close...
"Whoa," Steve says as you lean even further into him and loop your arms around his waist in a tight hug. "How much did you have to drink, exactly?"
He doesn't mean it in a mean way, which is why you grin up at him from where you've got your cheek pressed firmly to his chest. You can feel his heart beating under the palm of your hand now, a steady and calming rhythm that soothes something inside of you.
"Dunno," you reply, grinning stupidly when you catch sight of maybe three copies of Eddie Munson standing off to Steve's left; all of them have identical amused looks on their faces. "Might've had, like, a couple..."
Steve sighs deeply, though there's no exasperation or disappointment to be found in his expression when he tilts your face upwards to look you over properly. You just beam dopily at him, because he's so pretty right now you don't know what else to do.
"Dude," Eddie speaks up, drawing Steve's gaze away from you while your own attention goes back to pressing yourself even more snugly into him, "she is totally sloshed."
You frown, shaking your head in fervent disagreement.
"Am not!"
"Sure you aren't, sweetheart," Eddie agrees placidly, but you get the impression he doesn't really mean it.
Before you can point this out, however, the blurry shape of Robin Buckley steps forward. The room is dark with flashing strobe lights and smoky with incense and cigarette smoke, but you'd recognize her voice anywhere.
"Who let you drink this much?" Robin asks as she lifts a hand up to brush some hair back from your forehead.
It's oddly soothing and so you lean into the contact with a happy hum. Robin and the others laugh — but then again, it sounds kinder than mean, the kind of laugh that bubbles up when you find something unexpectedly endearing, and so you don't mind as much as you maybe should.
"Nobody," you mumble as you press your face into the side of Steve's neck and take a deep breath in; his scent is the same as always, earthy and warm with an underlying hint of that stupid spray he likes to use sometimes. "I'm here alone. 'Cause Steve here blew me off for you guys, but that's okay," you say, even though, to be fair, it sort of isn't true — he didn't blow you off.
"Hey," Steve starts, sounding half-indignant and half-apologetic all at once. He's got an arm around your shoulder now, supporting you and keeping you upright, which makes you want to tangle yourself up in him completely. "You didn't tell me you wanted me to come hang out with you tonight!"
You sigh mournfully against his skin, feeling wistful all of a sudden. It's true. You hadn't told him. That was partially due to the fact that you had been trying to prove to yourself that you weren't so desperately and helplessly infatuated with him that you needed his presence constantly, but that plan had obviously backfired on you spectacularly.
"No," you mutter unhappily as Steve moves the two of you towards a nearby couch. "But I missed you. Don't wanna miss you."
Nancy, Robin, and Eddie, who are watching the two of you with expressions of varying degrees of amusement, exchange looks. Steve pretends not to notice, probably because he knows he won't like what they have to say if he hears it, and instead guides you down onto the cushions next to him. "You're drunk."
"You're pretty," you reply without hesitation, even though you're very clearly changing the subject. "It's unfair, y'know?"
You hear Robin snort, followed by a quiet thud like someone's just been slapped on the arm, and you know it's her who laughed, and that it must have been Nancy who'd shut her up. You don't know where Eddie is; you're not even sure when he wandered off, to be honest. You're too focused on Steve and the way his face looks under the colorful flashing lights.
"Oh yeah?" he asks, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too widely at your comment. His eyes are bright with laughter when you meet his gaze and nod confidently. "How do I get 'unfair', exactly?"
"'S all in the face," you say matter-of-factly, your own fingers trailing down his cheek in an almost absentminded gesture. "Kinda makes it hard to think about anything else sometimes, if I'm being real here. Like, it's not really fair, 'cause then what are we supposed to talk about? Oh, oh—and then there's your hair!"
"My hair?"
Robin wheezes somewhere behind you, which would have made you giggle if you were still paying attention to the people in the room besides Steve, but you're not.
"Mmhmm," you hum, your eyes running over the soft brown locks on top of his head. "Love it. Wanna touch it all the time. Y'see, Steve? You see? This is why it's not fair at all. And, and—" you trail off here for dramatic effect, squinting at him theatrically before leaning closer with your hand cupped to the side of your mouth, as if you're about to share something private. "—the way you make my insides feel? So, so unfair. Totally your fault, buddy."
"Wha-" Steve croaks out, looking alarmed and caught off guard by your drunken confession. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Oh," you regain your serious tone, frowning at him in a somewhat bemused manner when he continues to gape at you. "Not 'sposed to tell you. S'not the rules."
Eddie barks out a laugh somewhere off to your left, but Steve ignores him. "Rules?"
"Yeah, 's against the rules, dummy," you say, like he should've already known that. "Gotta follow the rules! Duh. Steve."
"Yeah, Steve, duh," Robin pipes up, earning herself a glare from Steve as well as a smirk from Eddie. "Oops, sorry. Please, continue."
"Can I touch your hair? Like, please, 'cause I might die if I don't, 'kay? If that's okay. Gotta test the theory. Just a little bit, though." You can tell by his expression that he wants to laugh, and that he's also mildly worried that you've lost your mind. "Please?"
Robin, Eddie and Nancy have their hands clapped over their mouths to contain their laughter. You're too drunk to notice, but Steve narrows his eyes at them in warning. "Yes," he says. "Just—yeah, go ahead."
With a little noise of excitement, you reach out to card your fingers through his hair. He smells really good — like clean laundry and fresh pine trees — and the feel of his hair in your palm is exactly what you had imagined, though you're loathe to pull your hand away now that you've felt it.
Steve goes unnaturally still as you press your face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, a move he should have expected but didn't, and you sigh happily when the scent of his cologne hits you full force. He's like a living, breathing, cuddly teddy bear, you think, a combination of warmth, softness, and comfort all rolled up in one gorgeous, handsome, unobtainable package.
"You're warm," you mumble, feeling like you could fall asleep right now. "So, so warm. 'S like you've got a space heater in your chest, 'n that's like, so awesome."
He blinks a few times, momentarily speechless as he tries to come to terms with the fact that you are, in fact, drunk enough to be saying whatever the hell comes to your mind. "Uh, thanks?"
"Smell nice too," you murmur, hugging him tighter to you. "Like, wow. Love your hair, like, love love."
His cheeks are burning hot now, his heart beating erratically in his chest when he notices Eddie staring at the two of you with a knowing gleam in his eye. "That's—thank you, but, hey, come on now," Steve says, his voice faltering a little. "Let's get you home, okay?"
"I don't wanna."
"Don't you wanna sleep in your bed?"
You pause, considering his words, and eventually concede that, yes, your bed does sound lovely right about now, so you give him a brief nod in response. "I guess, but can you come too?"
He chokes on air, but manages to play it off by clearing his throat. "What—to your bed? No!"
"Why not?"
Steve shifts a little under your intense, alcohol-addled scrutiny; he feels strangely guilty, as though he's letting you down by saying no. "Because you're drunk?" he says, feeling flustered and unreasonably nervous all of a sudden.
You scrunch up your face in a pout. "Oh, that's a dumb reason."
Steve chuckles and you sigh happily again, because you love his laugh and everything else about him, and he seems to realize this, given the way his expression softens. "Come on, you drunkard. Let's go home," he says gently, tugging on your arm in an attempt to get you to stand.
You resist at first, shaking your head stubbornly as you hold onto him. "Can't. My legs don't work anymore. They're all wobbly."
Steve closes his eyes for a moment, huffs out a soft laugh, and you can't help but grin up at him. He's so pretty that, like, how is that even allowed? How can you be around him and not spontaneously combust or something?
"Well, what if I carried you?"
"Like a princess?"
Steve looks at you with an expression you can't decipher — it's halfway between incredulous and endeared, and it makes your heart feel too big for your rib cage.
"How romantic," Nancy observes.
"So long as she doesn't throw up on him," Eddie adds, nodding sagely in agreement.
"Oh, I hope she does," Robin says, with a devious smile, "he'd deserve it for being such a coward."
"I'm...right here, guys, and I can still hear you." Steve finally says, throwing them a scathing look that only makes them laugh. "If you're not going to be helpful, you can wait in the car."
"As if," Eddie counters.
Steve opens his mouth to tell him where exactly he can stick his opinions, when you grab the front of his shirt and drag him closer.
"Steve," you say, the smile falling from your face as a sudden thought occurs to you. "Are you mad at me? Because I can go home by myself. That's okay."
"Hey, no," he replies softly, "I'm not mad at you, sweetheart. Not ever."
"'Sweetheart'? Really?" Eddie mutters to Nancy, who elbows him in the ribs when he doesn't lower his voice in time. "Ow, okay, okay—just saying. Don't want them to keep dancing around each other forever, is all."
"I'm not dancing," you tell him, completely unaware of Eddie's snickering, "I don't have any shoes on, Eddie. Wouldn't be able to dance without shoes on. Silly."
"My bad," Eddie says, his lips twitching with badly concealed laughter, "forgive me."
Steve scowls at him before turning his attention back to you, his face so close to yours that you can momentarily feel the tickle of his breath against your skin. "Okay, come on," he says, "up we go."
And then, in one swift movement, he slides his arm under your knees and scoops you up into his arms. You let out a squeak of surprise and automatically wrap your arms around his neck to steady yourself.
"Oh, oh, oh," you say excitedly, "you really are gonna carry me."
"Told you so." Steve adjusts his grip on you and makes his way towards the exit. "Are you good? Am I hurting you?"
You shake your head slowly, grinning as you stare at him from a whole new angle. "No," you tell him, feeling much more awake than you were moments before. "This is...this is like, actually kinda cool."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you repeat, smiling shyly back at him. "Feel like a real life Cinderella now. Whoa, you're, like, super strong."
"Yeah, Stevie, you're 'super strong.'" Eddie teases, waggling his eyebrows when Steve sends him a quick glare. "Aw, don't look at me like that. It's cute. The two of you."
Nancy doesn't tease like Robin and Eddie do. She walks behind Steve, making sure to stay a couple steps behind to give the two of you some privacy. Even so, when you look over your shoulder to make sure nobody's listening, she gives you a wink and a small thumbs-up that makes you smile.
The parking lot is filled with teenagers all wandering aimlessly in groups, so it takes Steve a while to navigate his way through the crowd. By the time he finds the spot where he parked his BMW, you've grown drowsy enough to rest your head on his shoulder.
Eddie immediately pops open the door to the backseat, slapping it a few times as he looks over at Steve and grins. "Hurry it up, lover boy," he drawls out, "she looks half-asleep already."
"She's fine," Steve shoots back, frowning in annoyance when Eddie and Robin both pretend to yawn exaggeratedly, "shut up. I hate you guys."
786 notes · View notes
moonstruckme · 2 months
Note
Heyy:)💞could I request something in which reader is a virgin and she’s afraid of her first time and like unsure if she feels ‘ready’ for it but also doesn’t want to come of as prude and the character you’re writing for just comforts her and tells her it’s fine🌞Any character you’re writing for would be fine!!:))) have a great dayyy🫶
Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!
cw: smut mdni, oral (fem recieving), virgin reader
Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 958 words
Steve’s hands are strong and warm on your waist, dipping lower. You roll your hips against his, and the sound that emerges from him is half-moan, half-laugh. He kisses you dizzy. 
“Can I take these off?” he asks, tugging at your back pocket.
“Yeah,” you say without thinking. 
You trust Steve. You haven’t been dating long, but you can tell he’s a good guy. He has a tendency to act overconfident and then backtrack immediately, which he says he’s working on. He’s genuine when it counts. Nice to you in all the ways that matter. 
It’s not until your jeans hit the floor, where Steve’s shirt already lies, that you start to think about the implications. Whether or not you want them. 
Steve grabs big handfuls of your ass, your flesh pudging between his fingers. He flips you over. 
You giggle at the suddenness of it, and he drinks in the sound happily, lips curving over yours. You press kiss after kiss after kiss into his mouth, giddy and lost in him. After a while, he dips his head to move his attentions to your neck. Your breaths become gaspy, head tilting sideways to grant him better access as your eyes flutter closed. 
You don’t even notice his hand moving until his fingers wiggle under the waistband of your panties. 
You go still. Then try to relax again. Try to embrace it. His fingers slide over your folds, already slicked, while his thumb searches for your clit. He finds it, circling tantalizingly. You try to get lost again. It’s not hard. Soon you’re panting, tangling your hand in Steve’s hair as his mouth sponges over your pulse. He slips one thick finger into you, then two. Scissoring. 
You try to make your voice sound casual as can be. 
“What’re you doing?” 
“Opening you up.” The words are mumbled against your skin, matter-of-fact. “M’gonna get you ready, don’t worry.” 
Your breath catches in your throat. 
“Whoa, hey,” Steve laughs. “Relax for me. You okay?” 
You hesitate, and his fingers still inside you, thumb slowing on your clit. 
“Hey.” He sits up, looking down at you. “Are you doing okay?” 
“I’m not sure if—if I want—”
“Oh, oh my god.” He slips his fingers out, wiping his hand on his sheets. His other hand twitches like it wants to touch your face, but he stops it before it gets there, setting it on the bed beside your head. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume…anything.” 
“No, you’re good.” You try to laugh it off. “I’m being dumb. We can keep going.” 
You tip your chin upward, kissing him. Steve doesn’t take the cue.
“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want,” he says, sitting up a bit more, putting more distance between you. You lie back on the mattress and fight the urge to cover your face with your hands. “If you don’t feel like it, that’s cool.” 
You rub your lips together. They’re still tingling. “It’s not that I don’t feel like it,” you try to explain. “It’s just that I’m not sure…I don’t know if I’m ready.” You cringe. “It feels stupid to say it.” 
Steve’s eyebrows twitch together. “Ready for…?” 
You give him a deadpan look, and his expression clears. 
“Oh. Whoa, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.” 
You shrug. “I didn’t tell you.” 
“Yeah…” He seems a bit shell-shocked. “Why did you say we could keep going? Do you want to?” 
Your eyes fall thoughtlessly to where Steve’s hand rests just below your navel, your underwear a soppy mess behind it. “I don’t know,” you admit. 
Steve nods like he understands, though he still looks confused. “Well, we shouldn’t do anything unless you know for sure.” 
You look at him, guilt like concrete clogging your insides. “Really? You don’t think I should just get it over with?” 
“What?” His face screws up. “No. Honey,” —He’s never called you that before. You melt a little— “you should want to have sex. If you’re not sure, you’re not sure. That’s fine.” You search in his tone for any hint of sarcasm or bitterness but come up empty. His hand drifts over to your hip, running the length of it. “You’re not asking because you think I want to, are you?” 
It’s a silly, hypocritical stab of hurt, but it hurts nonetheless. “You don’t?” 
“No, I do,” Steve says hastily. “Obviously I do. Just, that’s not a good enough reason for you to do it. And I don’t want you to get it over with, that’s for sure.” 
He says the last bit wryly, glancing away from your face like he’s barely restraining an eye-roll, and you laugh. He looks back at you, grinning. Pleasantly surprised. 
“I mean, it wouldn’t really reflect on you if I was getting it over with,” you say, but Steve scoffs. 
“Fuck yeah it would. Sex with me should be magical, babe,” he tells you, kissing your chin firmly. “Sparks flying and butterflies and all that. The whole fireworks show.” 
“Oh, you’re selling it now.” 
“Not,” he does roll his eyes this time, kissing the corner of your mouth, “my intent. You tell me when you feel ready, and then I’ll start advertising, but until then don’t worry about it.” He catches your eye, and his are searching even as he raises his eyebrows playfully. “I can still give you the fireworks show other ways, if you want me to.” 
You blink. “Really?” 
Steve blinks harder. “Yeah! Jesus, your expectations of me are so low. Give me a little credit.” He presses kisses to your mouth, your chin, trailing down your throat, his blessed hand making its way back towards your heat. “Just sit tight, let me get you warmed up again.”
692 notes · View notes
luveline · 22 days
Note
jade baby I was wondering if you could do a hurt/comfort with Steve, but the reader comforting steve while he deals with his hearing loss after all the times he got beat up and stuff? Maybe he’s frustrated and she makes him feel better:’)
ty for requesting <3 fem, 1k
Steve’s eardrum was weakened after multiple traumas to the side of his head, but it’s the strangulation of vines in the Creel house that finally gives him permanent hearing loss in his left ear. Matter of time, the doctor said. 
He pretends it doesn’t bother him. He doesn’t wear the hearing aid he’s fitted for, he doesn’t go for his follow up appointments. Steve acts like he got better just like everybody else did (sort of). He doesn’t care about taking his shirt off at the pool, ‘cos you all have scars from your time in the upside down, but he doesn’t talk about his ear. 
“Woah, that kid can make a wave,” he says, squinting against the sunshine, his legs still wet from swimming. 
In the pool, Dustin and his friends play an aggressive game of Marco Polo. Max sits on the side with her feet in the water shouting Polo’s that only serve to confuse him, Lucas beside her laughing and trying to curve his own shouting with his hand. Dustin throws his arm out at them and soaks their swim shorts in retribution. 
“He’d be winning if they stopped messing with him,” you say, sitting on the lounger next to him and passing him one of the drinks from your bag. It’s still cold. “When’s Robin getting here?” 
“Uh, she’s with Nance.” 
“Oh, gotcha. When is she coming?” you ask, a little louder. 
He must have missed a couple of words and assumed you asked where she was. He frowns, turning the can of original coke you’ve given him over in his hand. 
“Steve?” 
He looks up, turning himself to you more squarely. “Yeah?” 
“Do you know when Robin’s gonna be here?” 
He presses a finger to his ear. “You just asked me that, huh?” 
“It’s okay. I’m just wondering.” 
“Uh.” He ruffles his hair, face angled down to the floor. “I don’t know. Half an hour?” 
Steve isn’t easy, he’s not promiscuous (anymore) (and who cares if he is?) but he loves flirty attention, and he’s a friend in need. Also, you have a huge awful crush on him even if you won’t admit to it. 
You put your hand on his knee. “Half an hour for you to kiss me stupid, then.” 
He lifts his head. “You wish.” He smiles at you all smug as he covers your hand with his. “Half an hour? I could rock your world.” 
You both laugh and move your hands back to your sides. Your skin feels warm where he’d held it, you can’t help smiling, but it’s obvious it hasn’t really taken his mind off of the problem. Your ruse ran out of steam too quickly. 
Steve looks down at his chest. “I’m sorry. It must be annoying, repeating what you’re saying all the time.” 
“It’s not.” 
“Come on, I know it’s the worst.” 
“Steve, it doesn’t bother me. You need me to repeat what I said, or you need me to talk louder sometimes, so I’ll do it. It doesn’t matter.” 
“It does,” he says, “I should just wear the– the hearing aid,” —his voice goes low with embarrassment— “and stop inconveniencing everybody.” 
“You’re not an inconvenience, Steve.” You tilt your head gently toward your shoulder, palm up on the chair between you. “Steve, I think everybody would agree with me when I say that we don’t mind. It’s up to you. If Max doesn’t wanna use her cane, you don’t care, do you? You just let her use your arm. It’s the same thing. Or, it feels like the same thing for us when you don’t use your hearing aid.” 
He winces. 
You really don’t like the look of it, unsure if you’ve said the wrong thing. “Well, I could learn sign,” you say. 
“What?” 
“Sign language? We could learn how to sign, and then you don’t have to wear the hearing aid, n’ you don’t have to worry I’m repeating myself.” 
“You’d do that?” 
“Yeah,” you say, smiling in bemusement. “Of course I would. And it would help anyways in places like this.” You gesture to the tens of kids shouting and splashing in the pool. “There’s so much noise. I can barely hear myself sometimes. And imagine the shit we could talk at the movies–”
“Thank you,” Steve says, surprising you with his arms suddenly reaching out. He kisses your cheek as he pulls you in, and he rubs your back gently, his face pressed to your hair. You hug him back and his arms tighten around you. 
“You’re welcome,” you say. You haven’t even done anything. 
“Seriously,” he says, giving your back a good scrunch with his hand. 
It’s worth it for the scrunch alone, but you really mean it. Of course you’d learn to sign for him, you’ll do anything he needs you to do if it’ll make him more comfortable with coping with this new change. You smile into his naked shoulder, the smell of sunscreen under your nose, his hair tickling your ear. 
“Oh, god, are you guys serious?” Robin asks. “When’s the wedding?” 
“Should’ve started with the joke,” Steve says, putting his chin atop your head rather than pulling away. You turn just enough to see Robin from the corner of your eye. 
She raises her eyebrows. “What’s going on?” 
“Nothing, just swapping out best friends for the better model.” 
“I resent that, Steve, but I choose to forgive you because I’m in a good mood and Nancy made sandwiches.” 
“My mom made them,” Nancy says from behind Robin's shoulder, looking down at the brown paper bag she’s carrying. 
They turn away from you to call the kids in for lunch. “What did she…” Steve says. 
“Her mom made sandwiches. I’ll get you a PB and J before Mike claims them all,” you promise. 
He smiles a line, nodding at you appreciatively. When you turn away, he brings a hand to his ear, and he doesn’t hate himself for something he can’t help. 
803 notes · View notes
Note
OH what if you did something with grumpy!steve with sunshine!reader? Like they both like each other but she does something sweet for him that makes him melt!
Steve was having a horrible day. And by horrible, he meant it was like any other day. Keith had left a mountain of things to do, and he had to work the opening shift alone. Which meant he was starving and bored out of his mind.
He’s grateful when the bell rings for any sort of distraction, even if it comes in the form of your skipping, smiley-ness. You looked extra pretty today, in a cute sundress and a matching tote bag that you probably crocheted yourself. He wonders if you’ve ever considered crocheting something for him.
“Hi Steve!” You practically hop to the counter, leaning over it enough to taint the air of your strawberry perfume. He tries not to inhale too obviously.
“Hi.” He can’t help but feel less miserable in your presence, even if he is tired and hungry. His mouth waters just thinking of the burger he’ll pick up on his way home. Or atleast, that’s what he tells himself to explain the excess saliva in his mouth.
“Opening shift by yourself?” You ask knowingly.
“Yep. Keith just loves seeing me suffer.” He cracks a smile at your giggles. You always found a way to cheer him up, even without realizing it.
“Well, I’m here to end at least part of your suffering.” You pull a paper bag from your tote and he already smell the food inside. You slide it over the counter and he tries not to look too eager as he peaks inside. At this point, any food will do.
“It’s a ham and cheese sandwich. And some chips. And a juice box. And a brownie.” You smile sheepishly and he swears he could kiss you right there. He wants to dig in immediately but he manages some restraint.
He tries to pretend his heart isn’t beating out of his chest.
“My favourite. You remembered.”
“Of course I remembered. You remember everything about everyone. It’s the least I can do.” You’ve gone shy now and it makes him smile.
“You’re too sweet to me.” He tries to deflect but she only leans in closer.
“You deserve it.” She presses a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away. She takes a step away, probably to leave but he catches her hand.
“Do you wanna…watch a movie later?” The words tumble out of his mouth before he can overthink them, but it’s worth the smile he recieves.
“Sure. My place at 7?”
“I’ll see you there.”
He waits until she’s gone to celebrate.
732 notes · View notes
starberryes · 2 years
Text
don't you (forget about me) | steve harrington x reader
Tumblr media
“Oh, great, she’s here,” Steve says, stepping away from the door.  "First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking here—” Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—" "You did not just roll your eyes at me—” Dustin sighs. "Here they go." (or: You've always thought Steve Harrington was a weirdo. When you find out you might be in terrible danger, he might be just what you need.)
pairing: steve harrington x fem!henderson!reader (she/her pronouns used), lots of henderson siblings bonding <3
words: 13.9k
a/n: gif by @dailysteveharrington. thank you all for being patient and i hope you all like it<3 i loved this season and i love steve so i hope you enjoy this lil enemies to lovers fic. this fic is a one shot, but let me know if you'd like a sequel once vol 2 is out bc its a bit of an open, ambiguous ending ;) also some fun facts before this fic starts: dustin's dad appears at will's funeral in s1 and there are several theories about him-- officially, he and dustin's mother are divorced in canon. i'll explore that in this fic. ST4 SPOILERS. this is set in season 4 ep 3 "the monster and the superhero" and follows vol 1 canon also sorry if this doesnt follow canon pretty well i mostly did it from memory cause the wiki still isnt fully updated 💀
disclaimer: this fic discusses the topic of an absent parent, please proceed with caution if this is hurtful to you. also warning for canon typical violence and cursing. english is not my first language so please let me know if there are any mistakes.
📼 NOW PLAYING: Don't You (Forget About Me) by Simple Mind
Your mother had always been slightly overbearing and fearful, but the murder of Chrissy Cunnigham you think might actually kill her. Or at least will force her to lock you in your bedroom and flush the key down the toilet.
“You can’t go anywhere without telling me,” your mother tells you over breakfast, worriedly overcooking her bacon. “You hear me? I don’t want you running around town without me knowing. Or better yet, don’t go anywhere at all!”
You glare at Dustin’s chair, where your brother is munching on toast and eggs, hoping your mother takes the hint. She does, and so she shakes her head and says, “Dustin’s different.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Maybe this killer has a thing for pretty girls,” your mother shakes her head, shivering. “Chrissy Cunningham was such a nice and pretty girl, right your age.”
“You don’t know what that killer was thinking!” You groan. “Why can Dustin leave but I can’t?!”
“Dustin’s not an eighteen year old girl with an easily breakable neck.”
“He’s easier to man-handle!”
Dustin frowns, finally looking up from his breakfast. “I’m not!��
”Besides, do you even know where he was last night?” You ignore your brother’s protests, choosing to point at him as he scoffs in offense. “I bet you don’t, because he’s always sneaking out!”
“I’m not always sneaking out!”
“I try my best with you, Dusty,” she sighs, finally sitting down. “But your sister is right, you’re difficult to keep track of. You’re always running around, like those little legs have minds of their own.” She points the spoon she was using for her coffee at your face. “Don’t you throw that in my face, (Y/N).”
“Mom, you’re right,” you nod, sipping your orange juice, trying to appeal to her soft spot. “He is difficult to keep track off, and there’s a dangerous killer on the loose. How about I keep track of him? Make sure he’s not getting into any trouble, hm? I’ll make sure we’re always safe, together.”
Of course, you were planning on bolting as soon as you were out of your mom’s sight. You mom’s cat Tews meows somewhere across the room, as if he knows not to trust you. That damned furball.
“What the fuck? No!”
“Dusty! Language.”
“Mom,” Dustin says, exasperated. “I don’t need a babysitter. Much less a babysitter that’s also my annoying older sister.”
“No, you have Steve Harrington for that,” you mutter under your breath, and Dustin manages to kick you under the table. You glare at your little brother, then turn to address your mom once again. “I promise we’ll stay together. I know— no, I understand that it’s scary out there right now, but I can take care of myself. And Dustin. You have to trust me.”
“I trust you. It’s the murderer I don’t trust.”
“Mom—”
“Let me finish,” she stares pointedly at you, and you promptly shut up. “I don’t want you two sneaking out. But, it’ll make me feel better if the both of you are together.”
Dustin covers his face with his hands. “Shit.”
“Yes!” You squeal. You stick out your tongue at him, and he rolls his eyes. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Dusty.”
“Screw you.”
“Dusty, it’ll be fun. (Y/N), don’t taunt your little brother,” your mom scolds both of you into silence. “It’ll be like old times, won’t it? Aw, you two used to be thick as thieves back then.”
Dustin sighs, picking at his toast absent-mindedly. “Was there a murderer on the loose back then too?”
📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼
After breakfast, you give Dustin a ride until you arrive in a neighborhood that is most definitely not Lucas Sinclair’s like he told you it would be. You turn to stare at your brother before you unlock the car’s door, confused.
“Where are we?”
Dustin looks at your shoes. “I told you. Lucas’s.”
“Okay, you might lie to me whenever you want, just not to my actual face, Dustin.” You roll your eyes, and he mirrors you. “Seriously, why did you make me come all the way down here?”
“Why do you care?”
“I know we’re doing this to get mom off our backs, but there is actually a killer on the loose,” you say. “So, excuse me if I’m also a little wary about dropping you off at unknown locations, or whatever.”
“Fine,” Dustin sighs. “I’m here to see Max and Steve.”
“Steve?”
“Harrington.”
You blink at him. “Fucking Steve Harrington?”
“See?” Dustin rolls his eyes again. “This is why I didn’t tell you! You are extremely uncool about Steve, you know.”
“I’m not!” You try not to dwell about how defensive you sound even to yourself. “I’m extremely cool about him. I’m extremely cool about the fact you hang out with that douchebag with stupid hair.”
“He’s not a douchebag! I don’t get why you hate him so much.”
Because you remember him and his friends making fun of you all throughout High School, his sneering and stupid stares. Like your brother, you’d never fit in— you never liked going to parties or drinking and you never made an effort to be liked by him and his group of popular dorks, instead you spent most of your days in the library, reading, hiding from Steve and his friends. Whatever honorable things Dustin saw in Steve Harrington you think he might have imagined them.
Now, in your last year of High School and with Steve becoming a social pariah, you don’t have to hide the fact that you still dislike Steve as much as you did back when he was still King Steve. Steve, for however much Dustin insists that he’s changed, upon first meeting you had tried to sweet talk you as if he didn’t know who you were. And you had barely kept it together enough to tell him to fuck off. Ever since then, you and Steve Harrington had hated each other’s guts. Your mutual dislike of each other is not lost on Dustin, who continues to mostly ignore it and tiptoe around it as best as he can.
“He’s not not a douchebag,” You murmur. “Why is he hanging out with two fourteen year olds during spring break? Isn’t the barf bag, like, supposed to be in college, going to frat parties, having a life of his own?”
Dustin doesn’t appreciate the way you talk about him, clearly, but he still replies, albeit unhappily. “He’s helping me with something.”
“With what?”
Before Dustin can respond, someone knocks on Dustin’s window. You jump, surprised, but it’s just Steve and Dustin’s friend redhead Max, looking bored and impatient. You groan and reach over Dustin’s seat to roll the window down.
“Do you mind?” You say to Steve. “We’re talking.”
“Oh, great, she’s here,” Steve says, stepping away from the door. 
"First of all, Harrington," You scoff, glaring at that mop of hair with all the rage you can muster. You ignore Dustin’s groan. "I have a name. Second of all, we are talking here—”
Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever—"
"You did not just roll your eyes at me—”
Dustin sighs. "Here they go."
“I did not roll my eyes—”
“You absolutely did!”
“There was something in my eyes.”
“That something was lies!”
“Jesus fuck,” Steve finally throws his arms up in exasperation and turns to your brother, ignoring your insults. “You done talking to your lovely sister there, Henderson? We got a counselor to see.”
“What?” You frown at Dustin, irritation immediately melting into concern. “What’s he talking about?”
“Steve, shut your mouth,” Dustin glares at Steve, who shrugs and finally steps away from the car. “Nothing, (Y/N), seriously. See you later?”
“No.” You shake your head. “What does he mean a counselor? Are you seeing Ms Kelly?”
“Nothing’s wrong, I promise. It’s—” he looks like he’s scrambling to think of an excuse, then his eyes land on Max. Something flashes across her face and she speaks next.
“It’s for me.” she says, “Chrissy died in my neighborhood.”
“She’s kind of freaking out,” Dustin says, and when you finally turn to look at Max you realize how tense she is, her shoulders square, with her lips forming a straight line.
“Oh. That sucks. Hey, Max.”
“Hey,” she greets, awkwardly. It’s part of her charm, you think.
“See?” Dustin asks. “Can I go now?”
You nod, a little shaken up for some reason. Maybe Chrissy’s murder still made you feel slightly ill, and the mention of it made you feel even worse. You couldn’t imagine what Max might be going through. It didn’t help that they had found another body this morning, either. 
“Ye— yeah. Sorry. I hope everything’s alright, Max.”
“Yeah,” she nods.
Dustin nods to the door. “Can you unlock the car, then?”
You wordlessly comply, and as your little brother steps out of your mom’s blue Ford Cortina, you talk to Max once again. “Ms Kelly is great help. I’m sure she’ll make you feel better. She really helped me this year, you know, she’s a great listener.”
“Yeah, I know,” Max says. “I’ve been thinking about seeing her for a while, a—actually. I’ve heard she’s well… you know… fine, or whatever.”
“Hey, there’s no shame in that,” you shrug. “Lots of people go to see Ms Kelly… Actually, now that you mention it, Fred Benson, the guy they found this morning, was seeing Ms Kelly too. And Chrissy Cunningham.”
Dustin pauses before closing the car door. “What do you mean?”
You blink, slightly confused as to why you’d even bring it up. “I’ve seen them in Ms Kelly’s office before. I’m not sure why I’m even mentioning it, sorry.”
“No, no, (Y/N), that’s…” Dustin says, then doesn’t finish. “You’ve been seeing Ms Kelly too?”
“Yeah,” you nod, a little ashamed. You think about telling Dustin about everything that’s been going on, the nightmares, the guilt— but then you glance at his friends looking expectantly at him and cower. So you don’t continue.
It’s Steve who breaks the silence. “Henderson, chop chop, let’s go.”
“I’ll see you at home?” Dustin says, a little softer.
“Yeah, yeah. I was gonna go to Dinah’s near Ave Park, but do you think you’ll need a ride later?”
“Steve’s got his car,” he says. “Don’t wait up, okay?”
You nod, watching him leave.
📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼
It’s around eight PM, and Dinah is painting her toenails as you skim through one of her books, the soft hum of the TV in the background, entering through the open bedroom door. Her parents are watching the news, the news anchors are urging people to stay home and to lock their doors to be safe of this new serial killer.
Dinah’s house is your usual hangout spot beside your own. You don’t have many other friends, and there’s only so many times you can force Dustin to watch The Breakfast Club before he’s fighting you for the remote.
“It was all Matty could talk about,” Dinah continues to rant. “I can’t stand this murder talk any longer! I can only hear about Chrissy Cunningham’s missing eyeballs so many times, (Y/N), it’s way too fucking gruesome, but it’s all everyone in this town seems to care about.”
“It’s a pretty pressing issue,” when Dinah glares, you shrug. “I’m just saying! You know I agree with you. I don’t want to hear about it anymore.”
“Chrissy was always so nice, wasn’t she?” Dinah shakes her head, putting her nail polish back in her nightstand, then wraps her arms around her legs, hugging herself. “And Fred had a future in front of him. It’s so unfair. They had a family that loved them.”
“Dinah, I really don’t wanna talk about it,” you say, feeling yourself shiver. You don’t want to think about poor Fred or Chrissy, or the families mourning them. You try to focus on the book in your hands, but the words start blurring together, becoming harder and harder to read. 
You blink, confused, then realize Dinah is still talking.
“It’s the truth, isn’t it? I think about their dads too. Chrissy’s dad was crying so much at her wake. Do you think your dad would ever cry for you like that?”
You finally snap to look back at your friend. She’s staring at you like you’re small, like an insect she could stomp on. You’ve never seen her black eyes seem so soulless, so empty.
“Maybe they’ll be tears of joy, don’t you think? After all, weren’t you the one who made him walk away?” She tilts her head to the side, a sneer forming in her lips. “They could be a family without you.”
There’s something wrong in Dinah’s eyes. There’s something wrong about all of this, but you can’t point to what, where are you, when, why…what…?
When you blink, Dinah’s eyes look normal again. 
“(Y/N),” She asks, frowning. “Are you there?”
You shake your head. What the fuck was all that? 
“What?”
“You were staring at me like you weren’t all here,” she explains, grimacing. “Where did you go just now?”
“Sorry…” When you speak you feel a dull ache around your temple, and you lift a hand to rest against it, trying to soothe the pain aimlessly. “I think I need some painkillers or something, my head’s killing me.”
“Again?” 
“Yeah,” even before spring break you had confided in your friend about the headaches and the nightmares— you never told her why, but she at least knew you were seeing Ms Kelly. 
Dinah stands up, careful not to stain the carpet with her fresh black nail polish. “I’ll ask my dad for some Tylenol. Stay here, I’ll be back in a sec.”
Before Dinah is out the door she’s interrupted by the doorbell, which rings once, twice, three times and more. Dinah frowns, as her dad yells I’m coming, Jesus!
“Someone’s impatient…” you murmur, hand still resting on your temple.
“Hey,” Dinah, who has always had great hearing, says. “I think it’s your brother.”
You frown, and when Dinah’s father confirms it’s your brother by yelling out that It’s little Henderson!, you and Dinah head downstairs to find a heavy breathing Dustin, Max, Lucas and even Steve Harrington, looking as if they just ran a marathon.
Dustin’s eyes land on you. “(Y/N)!”
“Dustin?” you say, “What are you doing here? You need a ride ho—?”
Dustin runs to hug you by the waist, almost knocking the air out of you.
“Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Is your nose bleeding? Do you feel—?”
“Woah, Dustin,” you don’t know what to do with your hands— you and Dustin hadn’t hugged since he turned twelve and he and you both deemed it lame. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”
Dustin finally lets go of your waist to grab you by the face and inspect it properly. He roughly pulls your face down and tries to pull up your nose to look at your nostrils. “No nosebleed yet?”
Steve tries to stop him. “Dustin, buddy—”
Lucas adds a sustancial, “Dude.”
“Dustin!” you push his hands off your face, feeling your cheeks heat up when you notice everyone looking at you. “What the hell are you doing?”
Your brother opens his mouth to speak, but then seems to notice Dinah behind you and seems to think better of it. “We need to talk,” he says instead, “Like, right now.”
“Right now?” You ask. “I already told Dinah’s mom I’m staying for dinner. Dustin, what the hell is going on with you?”
Dinah clears her throat. “I’m… just gonna go get that Tylenol.”
“Tylenol?” Dustin asks when she walks away. “What for?”
“I have a headache.”
“Shit,” Max says, still by the door frame with Lucas and Steve.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dustin curses, deep in thought. “It’s already started.”
“What?” You ask as Dustin starts pacing back and forth.
“We need to find out how to stop this right fucking now,” Dustin starts pacing back and forth. “Think, everyone.”
“Maybe Robin and Nancy found something in the library,” Steve offers.
“Yeah,” Lucas nods. “C’mon, man. Let’s go find them.”
“Okay, yeah. Okay, okay.” Dustin calms himself down, manages to stop his pacing. “Let’s go wait for them at the Wheeler’s. (Y/N), let’s go.”
You throw your hands up in disbelief.  “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?”
“(Y/N),” Dustin says, his voice unfaltering. Dustin is never serious about much, and this renders you speechless. “I need you to listen to me for once in your goddamn life, okay? We need to go. Now.”
“Okay, Jesus,” you say finally. “Dinah’s mom is making Lasagna so this better be worth it, Dustin.”
📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼
On the way to Nancy Wheeler’s house, you learn two things: One, Dustin knows where a serial killer might be hiding, and two, your brother thinks you’re cursed and are going to die in, give or take, twenty four hours.
You glare at Steve Harrington in the rearview mirror. “What the fuck have you been giving him?”
“I’m serious!” Dustin yells. “I knew you wouldn’t fucking believe me.”
“I’m sorry,” you say, because he looks genuinely frustrated, but a second dimension and a supervillain? Does your brother think you’re stupid? Just how many movies has he been watching? “I just think D&D might actually be getting to your head, Dustin. There’s no way what you just told me is real.”
“Lucas and Max know it’s real too!”
Both of them nod furiously.
“Are the other two fourteen year olds your only source?”
“Steve too!”
Steve winks at you through the rearview mirror.
“Even worse,” you say.
“Listen,” Lucas tries to reason when Dustin groans in frustration, cursing under his breath at you. “I know this sounds absolutely crazy, I wouldn’t believe it either. But I promise you it’s all true, and if we don’t do something soon about it you’ll end up like Chrissy and Fred.”
An involuntary chill runs down your spine every time you think about them. 
“Guys,” you say, slowly, “I know things are scary right now, but I’m sure there’s a logical explanation for the murders besides a demon supervillain.”
“I didn’t believe it at first either,” Max shakes her head. “Not until I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Didn’t Ms Kelly’s file say the others who were cursed were also having hallucinations?” Steve asks the kids, looking for a place to park. “So, have you gotten any weird visions lately?”
Hallucinations? You think back, but can’t seem to pinpoint anything similar to that. Except tonight at Dinah’s place, before Dustin and the rest had rung the doorbell. Suddenly you grow a little paler, uncomfortable at the memory being brought back. That had been weird, but you were exhausted and knowing a serial killer, Eddie Munson, who apparently your brother knew, was out there still was making you restless.
“I wouldn’t really call them visions,” you murmur.
“Shit,” Dustin breathes, looking at you with wide eyes. “It’s spreading faster.”
“Listen, Dustin, I may be going through some shit lately, but I promise you I’m okay. I just need some painkillers for my head, seriously.”
“(Y/N)!” Your brother takes you by the shoulders and shakes you. “Your life is in imminent danger! You don’t need painkillers!”
“I do if you keep shaking me like a ragdoll!”
“Listen,” Lucas says, grabbing Dustin and prying him off you despite his protests. “Just stay with us tonight, okay? We’ll sleep at the Wheeler’s and it’ll make Dustin feel better, right? We’re all tired.”
“Dude—”
Lucas cuts Dustin off and whispers, “We’ll wait for what Nancy and Robin have to say and then figure out how to convince her later, yeah?”
Dustin sighs. “This was so much easier when El had her powers.”
“So yeah? You’ll stay the night?” Lucas asks, hopeful.
You see all three of the kids staring at you and cave in. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.” You say, at the same time Steve parks right in front of the Wheeler residence. Before you can even step out of the car another car pulls over by the garage and Nancy Wheeler and another girl you don’t know step out of it.
“Nance, Robin!” Steve exclaims as he stops the car and steps out. “Had fun at the library? I sure didn’t.”
“It went well, I think—”
“We have a situation,” Dustin is quick to interrupt, reaching over your space and popping his head out from the open window. “It’s my sister. We think Vecna cursed her.”
“Whatever that means,” you mumble, getting out of the car, Dustin trailing behind you and slamming the door shut.
“She doesn’t believe us,” Max explains.
“Well, I personally would be more weirded out if she did,” The girl you don’t know shrugs a little. You recognize her now— she worked with Steve at Scoops Ahoy last summer before the fire at Starcourt, and now works at Family Video. You’ve spoken a bit with her before.
“She’s been having visions, headaches, nosebleeds,” Dustin continues, “like Fred and Chrissy were, according to Ms Kelly’s files. I think Vecna is preying on vulnerable people, people dealing with...” he looks at you for a second, then back at the girls, settling on saying: “Some shit.”
“We found some articles about Victor Creel at the library,” Nancy says, then motions at the house with her chin. “Let’s talk inside.”
📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼
Nancy and Robin turn out to be as crazy as the rest of them— they tell the story of Victor Creel, infamous in Hawkins for murdering his entire family, and about how he was supposedly possesed by the devil according to some conspiracy newspaper. They want to talk to Victor, but the problem is that he’s now a patient at Pennhurst Mental Hospital and completely unreachable to the public. They plan to go first thing in the morning and the rest of the group seems to agree. 
“We’ll need a disguise,” is Nancy’s big plan.
You never quite get that Tylenol, because the strongest thing Ms Wheeler has is green tea. You think everyone’s lost their goddamned minds.
“So what do you want me to do while all of you plan?” You ask, sitting on the couch. Nancy and Robin leave to Nancy’s room. Max and Lucas are by the desk in the corner speaking softly, Dustin is pacing around the room impatiently as he usually does when he’s this restless, while Steve is sitting on the couch beside you, playing with Dustin’s (or is it Mike’s?) walkie-talkie. “Am I allowed to eat something? Because I’m starving.”
Dustin snatches the walkie-talkie from Steve’s hand. “You’re gonna break that.”
Dustin’s, then.
“We don’t know yet,” Lucas says, walking over to where you are, holding Max’s hand gently. “We’re hoping the girls find out something from Victor. In the meantime…”
“You can eat,” Steve concludes. “... Right?”
“Right,” Max nods.
“We have to do something soon,” Dustin’s the most anxious you’ve ever seen him, even before you took him to see The Empire Strikes Back. “We don’t know how much time you even have once the visions and all the hallucinations start. We said twenty four hours but we can’t be sure.”
“If it helps, they started today. At Dinah’s.”
“You snapped out of it, right?” When you nod, Steve shrugs. “Henderson, I think we have time to order some pizza, at least.”
“And a movie?” You ask, finally relaxing into the couch. You toss away your shoes and hug them to your chest. “Does Mike have The Breakfast Club somewhere around here?”
“Not that movie again,” Dustin groans.
You throw a pillow at your brother, who manages to dodge it easily. “It’s a great movie!”
“It lost its charm after the thirteen time you forced me to watch it with you.”
“The Breakfast Club?” Steve asks aloud. “(Y/N) Henderson is obsessed with The Breakfast Club? Is that why Dustin is always renting it at Family Video?”
Dustin huffs, offended. “Why else would I want to rent that stupid movie?”
“Molly Ringwald,” Steve answers, at the same time you yell out, “It’s not stupid!”
When Nancy comes downstairs she informs you that sadly no, she doesn’t have The Breakfast Club, but that she should. She does have the soundtrack, however, and you think about asking to borrow it tomorrow before she goes back upstairs to order a pizza.
A while later it’s almost midnight, everyone around you is tired, except maybe for Dustin, but the majority wins and you all decide getting some sleep is the best option. You agree, but know that you’re probably not getting any sleep tonight, either; you’ve been having nightmares every night for the past few days and you don’t believe today is going to be any different.
When the lights go off and everyone is already starting to doze off, Dustin is quick to turn his flashlight on.
“Dude! Turn that off!” Steve moans, launching a pillow straight into his face. Dustin doesn’t dodge this one this time, much to Robin and Steve’s satisfaction, who chuckle lightly.
“C’mon, Dustin, what the hell?” Lucas groans.
“Shut up! I’m trying to see if I can find something else in Ms Kelly’s files!”
“Dude,” Max sighs, “you’ve read them each four times already.” 
“You won’t be able to find anything if you’re exhausted,” Nancy tries more softly. “Just try to sleep for a bit, okay?”
“Dustin, c’mon,” you reach for his hand— it’s a bit uncomfortable from your position on the couch and his on the floor, but you do it anyway. That seems to soothe him slightly, to see you still offering comfort, like you’re still yourself. He manages a weak nod, and he squeezes your hand slightly before turning the flashlight off.
After a few minutes, Dustin starts snoring loudly. Steve, who you’re unfortunately stuck sharing the couch with, chuckles.
“He’s a good kid,” he says.
“Yeah,” you can’t help but agree. You wouldn’t trade your dork brother for anything. “He’s great. When he was little, he used to wet his bed all time after watching scary movies with me, and he’d wake me up to change his sheets so my dad wouldn’t yell at him for ruining them.”
“Steve raises a silent eyebrow at you, sounding amused. “And you actually did that?”
“I forced him to watch them. I felt bad,” you smile at the memory. “He would offer to wash the dishes for me, though.”
“Your moral compass is stronger than mine,” he hums.
“You know, he…” you start, unsure if Dustin would be upset if you shared this, then decide it’s not as embarrassing as telling him he used to wet his bed, and continue, “he really admires you. God knows why, Harrington, but he worships the ground you walk on.”
“Henderson?” He asks, a little in disbelief. “I don’t know—”
“I’m serious, Harrington. He loves you,” You hoped you didn’t sound jealous. There had been a time where you thought Steve was almost a replacement for you as an older sibling, but as time went on you realized how important Steve was to him. 
“Well. I’m pretty loveable.”
You roll your eyes. “Sure.”
“He’s pretty loveable, too,” Steve says after a few beats of silence, more softly now. “I don’t have any siblings, did you know that? So it’s… uhm, really cool to have him around. Even if he’s kind of a little shit sometimes.”
“Such a little shit,” you agree.
The rest of the group seems to be asleep already, or maybe they don’t care about the conversation enough to join you. Steve starts telling you about the time Dustin burrowed his hair gel and almost set fire to his bathroom, and you have to cover your mouth to stifle your giggles.
It’s not long before you start to feel abnormally cold, and can’t keep your body from trembling. Steve’s gentle voice is gone. The room is dark around you, and realizing that you must’ve fallen asleep while talking with Steve at some point, you hug yourself trying to seek some warmth. You try to grab a blanket from somewhere. Jesus, it’s spring for fuck’s sake, it shouldn’t be this cold. But you realize that despite the darkness you can see, and when you look up at the ceiling, you find a grandfather clock that most definitely doesn’t belong in the Wheeler’s basement.
“(Y/N).”
The voice calling your name is unfamiliar and it makes you feel ill almost immediately, like your stomach has turned into nothing but knots. You try to speak, to ask who it is, but nothing comes out, you can barely even breathe.
“Do you think you could ever keep living with this guilt?” The voice asks, somehow you feel as if the voice is right behind you, whispering into your ear. It’s like nails scraping against chalkboard in your eardrums. “Knowing what you did to your family?”
You want to turn around and find the voice, but you can’t, you can’t, you can’t. The clock is ticking, haunting you, calling for you. You want nothing but to run away from it, but you can’t move— you’re glued in place somehow, maybe in fear, you can’t tell. Everything is uncertain, except for the clock. The clock, you know, it’s real. 
It’s counting down. You know what it’s trying to tell you. It’s coming for you and you can’t escape it. It’s only a matter of time now.
“Soon, (Y/N)...” It whispers. “Soon, I’ll come for you, and no one will be able to help you, (Y/N)... (Y/N). (Y/N)!”
You open your eyes with a gasp to find Steve’s arms around your shoulders, shaking you slightly. His eyes are wide, a little frightened. When you look around you find Lucas and Max draped all over a chair, their chests rising slowly, asleep. Dustin is in a sleeping bag on the floor, near Robin and Nancy, hugging each other tightly in their sleep. Steve is the only one awake.
“Shit,” you say, placing your hand in your heart. “Did I wake you?”
“We were talking and then you just went somewhere,” he says. “You don’t remember?”
You suddenly feel very cold. “I thought I was sleeping. I saw…” You think about telling Steve, but it seems pointless now, almost. What would you tell him? You saw a clock? “I think it was one of those hallucinations you guys keep talking about. You’re really freaking me the hell out, you know.”
“Fuck, I think Dustin’s right,” he says.
“About me being cursed by a being from another dimension? Are you kidding?”
Steve does manage to look apologetic. “I know it sounds bonkers, but that’s because it is. I’ve seen it.”
“What? This other dimension?” You were starting to think Dustin and his nanny were just trying to play an extremely elaborate joke on you.
“The Upside Down, but no,” he shakes his head, and then his eyes land somewhere around the room, focusing on one of Mike’s many posters. “The monsters.”
“Vecna?” 
“Others,” he says, then murmurs, “Haven’t had the pleasure just yet.”
“The demoger…? What was it?”
“Demogorgon, yeah,” he grumbles. “The Mind flayer too. It’s all real. I wish Will and Eleven were here to actually explain this stuff; they are the ones who actually know their stuff about this.”
You have never seen Steve actually sound so… serious, before. It’s all actually starting to freak you out, you decide, and you aren’t sure if you actually want to find out if it’s all actually real or not. You stay silent for a few moments, sleep escaping you. You figure Steve’s fallen asleep until his voice startles you again.
“You okay there, Henderson?”
No, you want to say. You can’t shake the feeling that the voice is watching you, waiting to catch you by surprise. “Yeah,” you mumble, sleepless, scared.
Steve doesn’t seem to buy your answer however, because you feel his body shifting near your side of the couch, sitting right beside you. When you give him a look (he’s so close he can actually make it out) he clicks his tongue.
“See, I don’t really believe you, Henderson. So, I’m gonna stay near you, just in case you get another vision. Or if you want to hold my hand.”
“Screw you, Steve,” You glare, turning to the other side so that your view is Harrington-less. If you do feel better with him beside you, that’s between you and maybe Vecna, if he’s actually inside your head.
In the morning, when you wake up and Nancy and Robin are both gone (probably visiting a murderer in a mental hospital) and Steve is tangled up beside you, you decide you’ve had enough. 
“So we’re just gonna wait around to see what happens?” Dustin argues, as Lucas and Max try to reason with him.
“What else can we do?” Lucas asks, frustrated.
“Literally anything else, dude! My sister might die!”
“Okay, Dustin, you need to stop and we need to go home, now,” you tell him, looking around the basement for your jacket.
“No!” he points at you. “You’re not going anywhere until we know what to do.”
“Dustin. I’m four years older than you,” you glare, placing your hands on your hips. “I’m the older sibling. I’ve entertained this enough already, but I left mom’s car at Dinah’s and we need to go get it and then get our asses home before mom loses her shit.”
“(Y/N)! Listen to me!”
“No, Dustin!” You finally snap, taking Dustin’s walkie-talkie from his hand and shoving it into your bag despite his protests. “I’ve had enough about monsters and other dimensions and whatever other nonsense Eddie Munson has been feeding you! We’re going home, now!”
“I can’t believe I’m actually trying to help you!” Dustin screams, “You suck!”
“Well, you’re stuck with me!”
“I wish I wasn’t,” he says, his eyes cold. “I wish you weren’t my sister.”
The chills return like a slap across your face, making you stumble backwards slightly. The room around you turns dark immediately, the only person left is Dustin in front of you. But it’s not him, it can’t be, his eyes have never looked this lifeless.
“You took his chance away, didn’t you?” The unfamiliar, bone chilling voice returns. “His chance of having a real family, or at least a father figure. He’s right in wishing you weren’t his sister. He deserves someone better.”
Again you want to scream, but it’s like your mouth is taped shut. Around you Mike Wheeler’s basement seems to fade away into blue, and suddenly you’re standing on your front porch, watching your dad walk away. You’re saying the hardness around your eyes, your lips drawn into a tight line. You don’t look like yourself; you look older, and tired, and disappointed, more like a woman than the girl you were when this happened, the girl you must’ve been.
“Don’t come back again,” you tell your father’s retreating form. But your voice is distorted, so far away. 
“How many times has Dustin needed his father?” The voice asks. When you blink you’re somewhere else; not Mike’s basement, not your home. There’s splinters of wood scattered by your feet, like a house just destroyed. Everywhere around you is red, like blood, like the blood in those horror movies you forced Dustin to watch because he made them less scary when he squealed. “Are you proud you broke up your family?”
“I was a kid,” you manage to say, and only now you realize you’ve been crying all along, the salty tears wetting your dry lips. “I didn’t want Dustin to know what he did. I would take it back if I knew he wouldn’t actually come back.”
“But you did it anyway. You did.”
I did, I did, I did, you think, over and over. You close your eyes, hard, ignoring how it almost hurts.
“You miss him too, don’t you? Despite everything. You’re sadder about the fact that he left you, too. He left his daughter behind.”
“Who are you?” You hiss out, through your anguish.
“I’m part of you, (Y/N). Whether you want to or not.”
You’re not alone. When you open your eyes you see him — a monster, vicious even in looks, like someone slowly peeled away his skin, and all that was left of him was muscle and meat, not even blood. Vecna. Around you there are two different bloody columns, and you’re quick to notice they’re holding Chrissy and Fred’s bodies, like morbid museum displays, tokens. He was right, Dustin was telling the truth about everything, and now you were going to die because you didn’t listen to him.
“No,” you want to say, you want to scream. But you’re not strong enough, you can’t—
Hey, hey, hey, hey
You blink through your tears. You manage to recognize that melody in this unfamiliar place. You want to run towards it, but you’re not sure your legs can even respond to your commands right now.
Vecna seems to think something’s wrong, too, because as the song progresses he grows more impatient. “You think you can escape like this?”
Tell me your troubles and doubts
Giving everything inside and out and
Love's strange, so real in the dark
Think of the tender things that we were working on
His hands— his claws are stroking your cheeks, an aborted tender gesture, like he’s trying to soothe his prey before going for the kill. It’s over, you think, there’s nothing but this certain death. But then; you think of the hundreds of times you forced Dustin to watch this movie with you; of you both playing with Tews until he scratches one of you in annoyance; driving Mike, Lucas, Dustin and Will to the movies; getting ice cream at Scoops Ahoy and guggling when Steve gets rejected once again; putting Dustin’s hair in braids and practicong makeup on him when he was younger; asking Will Byers what he was sketching at the park; Dustin and you laughing during dinner because of some stupid joke. You think about last night, sleeping beside Steve, and the way he made you laugh.
Don't you, forget about me
Don't, don't, don't, don't
Don't you, forget about me
You can’t give up. You can’t leave Dustin.
Somehow you manage to pull Vecna off you with a shove, and you run. You run, you run as fast as your legs let you, as your jeans stain with what looks like blood, as Vecna screams at you. You run like you've never run before.
And then you gasp and you’re falling.
“Shit, fuck, shit!” Someone’s arms are around you, and it takes you a second to calm down to realize it’s Steve, and that you’re in Mike Wheeler’s basement and you’re alive, somehow.
“Holy fucking shit,” Max is saying, but you can barely hear her over the rapid beating of your own heart— erratic, but unquestionably alive. 
“God, god, (Y/N),” Dustin’s voice stands out from the others, and when you look at him there are tears streaming down his eyes, and you can barely process anything before you’re trying to reach for him despite feeling like you’re not even in your own body.
“I’m okay,” you tell him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, Steve letting go of yours. “I’m okay, I’m okay.”
“I thought you were gonna die,” he whimpers.
“I’m here,” you breathe out. “Oh my God, I’m here thanks to you.”
You realize that the song is still playing, only to notice the headphones in your ears. You see your scattered bag around the room, and the walkie-talkie that Dustin must’ve been looking for already on the floor. Don’t You (Forget About Me) slowly fades to an end before the next song on the soundtrack starts.
“I’m sorry,” Dustin says into your shirt. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were going through something, I should’ve noticed. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” You shake your head, holding your little brother even closer. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. Fuck, Dustin, I’m so sorry.”
You stay like that for a moment, hugging Dustin on the carpet, Max and Lucas hovering near, and Steve’s hand on your shoulder, grounding you.
📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼
When you explain to Nancy what happened and what you saw once she comes back from Pennhurst she’s quick to pinpoint the house you saw when you met Vecna as Victor Creel’s house. All of you grab your things and head to that location. You try to not feel so dreadful, and Dustin forcing you to listen to Don’t You the entire car ride and holding onto your jacket sleeve helps soothe your nerves, at least a little bit.
But Victor Creel’s house is something out of a horror story, dark and abandoned as it is, and the only light source in the house seems to be the hole Robin made when she smashed the window.
“Let’s split up,” Nancy offers, and everyone seems to comply much to your dismay.
Lucas and Max leave to investigate with Dustin (reluctantly parting from your side) trailing off behind them, Nancy and Robin head upstairs and you and Steve are stuck together and instructed to stay downstairs by Nancy, the only thing illuminating your way being your flashlights.
You wander through hallways, staring at ruined wallpaper and dusty portraits. Victor and his family seemed so happy in their pictures, and you wonder why nobody, family or not, ever came to look for their things. The house seemed frozen in time, like one day the family had decided to get up and leave everything behind, the house nothing more than ghosts.
“I hate this place,” you comment, trying to hug yourself tightly to keep the cold at bay. “Thinking that people died here is…”
“Horrible,” Steve finishes for you. “Yeah… Fuck this place, man.”
When you turn to a corner, you freeze in place.
“Steve.”
“Yeah?”
“You’re seeing this, right?” You point at a clock with your flashlight, unmoving. It’s the same clock from your visions, the one you saw before meeting Vecna.
“Yeah,” Steve frowns. “Real old. Why?”
“I saw it,” you try to explain through the rapid beating of your own heart. “In my visions, I mean. This clock was in them— well, the second one, mostly. In the Wheeler’s basement last night.”
“Shit…” Eloquent as ever, Steve Harrington. “Has to mean something, right?”
“If anything it proves Nancy and Robin were right. It all started here.” You finally force yourself to look away and continue forward, ignoring the way you feel your skin crawling. You hold up your cassette before re-starting the song.  “What would happen if I suddenly got tired of this song? Will it no longer work? Does this mean Vecna will… come back for me?”
“Listen, I— I’m not a genius at this like your brother, or like Nancy, or even Robin,” Steve admits, very honestly. “But I promise we’ll find a way, even if that happens. Besides, Dustin told us how much you love this song. Seems kinda impossible you’ll ever get tired of it if you listen to it every day. And listen, I gotta ask. Breakfast club?”
“What?” You feel heat rise up to your cheeks, embarrassed. You start walking away from the clock, trying to get rid of the chills that had gotten ahold of you just a few moments before. “It’s a great movie.”
“Yeah, absolutely,” Steve says, and even though you can’t really see him in the dark, you can hear his smirk, picture his smile. He’s teasing, and you’re kind of glad for it. It helps. “I just didn’t think it would be your thing, is all.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s my thing then?”
“I don’t know. You seem like a Dune fan, maybe.” He wonders out loud, your flashlight lighting the way. 
“I do like the book.”
“See?” Steve points at his temple. “I knew it.”
“I think working at Family Video is finally getting to you.”
“I’m good at reading people,” he says, and you raise another silent eyebrow at him. He continues, “I’d always thought of you as a little brainiac, and that you’d liked movies that were kinda difficult. You were always reading in school. I didn’t think you’d like teen flicks and Hughes.”
“Dune is not difficult. And maybe you don’t really know me enough to know what my thing is,” you shrug. “... Or maybe every girl is a little bit in love with Judd Nelson.”
“Yeah,” Steve actually laughs. “Can’t beat that hair.”
And you can’t help yourself, you smirk. You think you might actually be dreaming, or maybe this curse made Steve seem more tolerable than usual. “You give him a good run for his money.”
“We’re still talking about hair here, right?”
Now you point your flashlight at Steve and elbow him.
“I’m just asking!”
“It was a stupid question. And just so you know, there’s nothing wrong about liking teen flicks,” you say, continuing to walk and not waiting to see if Steve follows. “Pretty in Pink is my new favorite movie and my GPA is still 3.5.”
“Oh wow. Pretty in Pink?” He whistles. “You have a soft spot for Molly Ringwald.”
“Who doesn’t?”
He hums in response.
You stay like that for a moment, walking through dusty hallways and trying to avoid spider webs. Even with the flashlights the place looks abandoned and lonely, and there’s a coldness running down your spine that you can’t shake off no matter how much you try. You focus on trying to catch the sound of Steve’s breathing to somehow ground yourself to reality. It feels like ever since meeting Vecna your grip on reality slowly fades away, like someone is unraveling the carpet from underneath you, trying to catch you by surprise. Like you’re falling into an abyss of darkness and you can’t hold onto anything— because nothing around you is truly real. And so you bite your lip to keep yourself from reaching out to Steve and holding on. You can’t think of a moment you’ve felt as uncertain as you do now; but Steve’s teasing and your bickering back and forth is normal, makes you feel like you’re not actually in immediate danger. You figure if there’s a different dimension called the Upside Down, then you can most definitely forgive Steve Harrington for being a jerk in High School. He has more than proven himself to you. 
Because the truth is that maybe Vecna will win. Maybe you will never beat this curse. And you’ll end up like Chrissy Cunningham, like Fred Benson, like Patrick McKinney; just dead bodies along the trail.
“Hey, Steve,” you call, slowing down to walk beside him. He turns to look at you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Uhm. If something… like, happened to me—”
“Woah, woah, wait,” Steve shakes his head. “Nothing will. We beat the curse, remember? With the song?”
“Yeah, but we didn’t actually beat it, did we?” Now you do turn to look at him, and his big eyes almost render you speechless. You don’t know what to call the look on his eyes, but it makes you want to look away from him; makes you want to run. “Listen, Steve, I just— I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he says, quickly. You think he’s noticed how embarrassed you feel, and you look away, embarrassed. “You’re just scared shitless like the rest of us.”
“It’s not that,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry for being such a jerk around you and picking fights with you. You’ve— you’ve been there for Dustin when I wasn’t, and I guess you’re not actually a bad guy. So… I’m sorry I judged you. And thank you, I guess. For being there for Dustin. And… me.”
Steve doesn’t say anything for a second. You’re still looking anywhere but him, now focusing your eyes on a spider in one of the many spider webs in front of you. You feel embarrassed and stupid, but a little bit better. You know you’re doing the right thing by apologizing— you know Steve now, better than you’ve ever thought you would. You finally dare to take one look at him and his eyes are still on you, and when your eyes lock, he smiles softly.
“You’re apologizing for that?” Steve asks, and when you nod matter of factly, he tilts his head to the side. “Huh. Never thought I’d see the day Henderson’s sister apologized to me.”
“Don’t let it get to your head, Harrington,” you roll your eyes, but can’t help the small smile forming on your lips. “I’m only doing this because I might die.”
Steve chuckles, nodding. “Fair enough,” he says. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too, Henderson. To be honest, I think I kind of deserved it. I was an asshole in High School, so… yeah. I, uh, I’m sorry it took me getting kicked off the clique to realize you’re not half bad.”
“Well,” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “It took me almost dying to realize you’re not half bad either. I think we’re even.”
Steve stops in his tracks, making you stop, too, a little confused. You turn to look at him, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look quite so… earnest, maybe. You can’t name the look on his face, but you can’t look away, can’t seem to be able to keep walking. You’re frozen in place.
“You’re not gonna die, Henderson,” he says, determined. “I won’t let you.”
Your mouth goes dry. All you can do in response is nod. You want to say something, but the words escape you, and so you stare at each other for a few seconds, neither of you saying anything. You wonder if Steve can hear the rapid beating of your heart, if he can make out the way your eyes drop to his lips for a slow second despite the darkness around you both.
Then you hear Dustin yell out, “Guys!” and the moment fades away.
📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼
Finding Eddie at Skull Rock seems to be harder than it should be, and once you find him you’re made to follow Dustin’s apparently broken compass. You feel like you’re wandering through the desert, with no clear path in mind. Dustin is at the front, with Lucas and Max following closely behind, Eddie (who you now have a hard time believing would ever be able to kill anyone), Robin and Nancy in front of you and Steve.
You find yourself time and time again choosing to spend more time with Steve, that he seems to be the one able to actually make you feel grounded, like you’re not gonna die in the next three seconds. You feel like yourself around him; but different. Steve is different. This whole experience is making you rethink everything you’ve ever known.
You can’t help but wonder in the silence about Dustin and the others, guiding the rest of you through the night time in the forest. Despite all of them being younger than you, they don’t seem to need your help, especially Dustin, who you think is completely in his element leading the way.
After a while of walking in silence, Dustin announces that the compass seems to be going even crazier. At this, Robin pries it off his hands to confirm that it’s true. Eddie and Dustin argue for a second about following the compass and make another Lord of the Rings reference that has you smiling.
“He’s not half bad,” you comment. “Eddie, I mean.”
“I still don’t know what the hell Modor is,” Steve mumbles under his breath.
You don’t try to explain Lord of The Rings to him— you don’t think there’s even enough time. But, maybe one day, when Hawkins isn’t in imminent danger and Steve still wants to hang out with your uncool self for whatever reason.
“What do you think we’ll find wherever this stupid compass is taking us?” You ask him, trying to avoid accidentally stepping on some poison ivy. Just your luck to get cursed and also poisoned on the same week. “You know more about this than me.”
“I’m actually more like, the, uhm, action guy of the group.”
“So you’re telling me you don’t know where we’re going,” You conclude.
Steve nods. “No damn clue, Henderson.”
“Great,” you chuckle lightly. 
“All I know is that it’s probably a portal Vecna opened after killing someone.”
“A portal. To the upside down?” When Steve nods in confirmation, you sigh. “I still can’t get used to how crazy this is.”
“The third time you do this you kind of just start going with the flow of things,” Steve admits. “Russian spies, MK-Ultra, different dimensions, monsters— it all just kind of starts to sound like background noise.”
“Dustin and the kids seem to really know about all of this.”
“They do,” Steve nods. “Dustin is like, their leader. Our leader, I guess.”
“My little brother… fighting communists and monsters.” You shake your head. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to that. How did Nancy? With you and Mike?”
Steve stops for a second to frown at you. “With me?”
“You know, with Nancy and you dating.”
“Me and Nancy?” he asks, then shakes his head. “No, me and Nance just… we go way back, but she’s with Jonathan. That ship sailed a long time ago. We’re friends now. Besides, she’s the one killing more monsters than me.”
“Oh.”
There’s no way to ignore the way your heart skips a beat at this, or the hopeful glint in Steve’s eyes. The rest of the woods disappear and it’s only you and Steve and your rapidly beating heart. The others are lost to you, in their own little world, searching in the dark with their flashlights like fireflies.
“Yeah,” Steve scratches the back of his neck. “And, just in case, me and Robin are not a thing, either. Just friends.”
“Platonic with a capital P!” You hear Robin yell out in front of you.
You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of you at Steve’s blush. “Yeah, yeah, think she got it, Buckley, thanks.”
“You’re welcome!”
“That’s… good to know,” you comment.
Steve raises his eyebrows at you, then scratches his chin. “Is it? Good to know?”
You nod slowly, avoiding his gaze. “Maybe.”
“Maybe. Okay. Maybe is—” he breathes out. “Maybe is cool.”
“Maybe is really cool,” you allow yourself a small smile.
“Really?” Steve inquires, and when he notices his smile he gifts you one of his own. “Okay. That’s great. Maybe is really cool. Cool. Cool beans.”
“Yeah?” You bite your lip, finally daring to look at him.
Steve follows your movement with his eyes. “Yeah,” he says, breathless.
“Hey guys,” Dustin’s voice rings out, the moment gone. “I think we found the portal!”
You both follow Dustin’s voice until you reach a lake, where Eddie explains Vecna killed Patrick when he was running away from Jason and the rest of the basketball team. 
“So the portal is… what?” Robin asks, “Underwater?”
Dustin shrugs. “Worth a shot.”
He starts climbing up the boat, and you’re quick to grab him by the sleeves of his shirt to stop him.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” You ask him.
“Looking for the portal,” Dustin says, matter-of-factly.
“You told me this portal is supposed to teleport you to another dimension, one Will Byers got stuck in,” you reply, pulling him away from the boat. “You’re not going anywhere near that portal. None of you kids are.”
“Who died and made you the boss?”
“Three people died,” you note.
“I made her the boss,” Robin quips. “Well, Nancy might technically be the boss, actually. Nance?”
Nancy blinks at Robin’s words. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”
“Nance says yes.”
Eddie frowns. “Yes to being the boss or yes to—”
“Let’s just go,” Nancy urges, gesturing at Steve to help her drag the boat offshore. Steve complies, and helps Nancy climb into the boat, followed by Robin and then Eddie.
“But what about the curse?” Dustin wonders, looking at you.
“I have this, remember?” You hold up the cassette player, and wink at your brother. “Don’t worry about me, okay? Look after Lucas and Max. Nancy might be the boss, but you’re their leader.”
“Okay, yeah,” he nods, sounding more like he’s talking to reassure himself than anything. 
“Compass, please,” you tell him, and Dustin complies unhappily. You can’t help yourself from grabbing him by the cheeks and kissing his forehead like you did when he was younger. Despite being a good leader, a fighter, he’ll always be little Dusty, who steals your waffles and makes really bad coffee. “See you soon.”
Steve offers his hand to help you climb the boat and you take it with a tiny smile.
The trip on the boat is short and dark. Even with Steve using his flashlight to try and light the way, it’s barely enough to keep you from being engulfed in the darkness of the night. When was the last time the moon shone down in Hawkins? There are almost no stars above, the view chillingly dark. You fear what you might find. Nancy stares at Dustin’s compass, trying to give any semblance of direction when the compass starts going crazy.
Steve starts pulling off his socks. 
“Steve,” Nancy says slowly, “what are you doing?”
“Somebody’s gotta go down there and check this thing out. Was one of you four Hawkin’s High’s swimming co-captain and a certified lifeguard for three years?” He figures, already working on his other shoe. “It’s gotta be me, no complaints, alright?”
Eddie chuckles nervously. “Hey… I’m not complaining. I do not wanna go down there.”
You watch as Eddie takes something off his pocket and throws it on the boat’s floor. You want to stop Steve somehow, irrationally, because as far as you know Nancy, Robin and Eddie can’t dive, and you can barely float — but the words die on your throat when you look up and Steve is peeling off his shirt.
“Here,” Eddie says, and you realize now he had wrapped a plastic bag around a flashlight and is now handing it back to Steve. “Good luck.”
“Thanks,” Steve says, taking it from his hands.
“Steve,” Robin rasps out before he dives, and Steve stops to look at her. “Don’t… die?”
“Gee,” he scoffs. “Thanks for the encouraging speech, Robs.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Don’t die, seriously,” you manage to tell him, wanting to reach for his hand but stopping yourself. “Or I’ll kill you.”
Steve nods. He looks like he wants to say something else, but keeps his mouth shut before diving underwater.
The silence on the boat almost kills you, as it rocks quietly, everyone holds their breath waiting for Steve to come up once again. Your heart is in your throat, Don’t You still playing softly in your eardrums, the cassette player still on, a constant to remind you you’re still here. Miraculously.
“He’s…” Eddie whistles. “He’s got balls, King Steve.”
“Yeah,” you nod, looking at the water like you’re hypnotized, waiting for his soaked head to pop up.
“Not what you’d expect,” he adds, a little quietly.
“No,” Robin says, and the way she says it— so fond, so genuine. You couldn’t agree more. Steve is so much more than what you’d expected him to be. “Not at all.”
You stay silent for a few more seconds, all of you waiting for Steve to come back. When he does he emerges with a gasp for air, startling the rest of you. Eddie screams so loud you hear it perfectly well over the music.
“Found it,” Steve claims, holding onto the edge of the boat.
“You found it?” Nancy repeats.
“It was pretty wild,” Steve explains that he seemed to have stumbled into the portal, like an open gate illuminating the bottom of the lake and tinting it red. “It was pretty damn big—”
Before he can continue, Steve is pulled into the water once again, and you jump up instinctively, trying to reach for his hand, but he escapes your grasp quickly. He emerges again and you breathe a sigh of relief— but it’s short lived, because Steve is dragged under once again and he’s not coming up.
“Steve!” you yell. “Steve!”
“What the hell was that, man?!”
Between all the screaming going on, the only thing you can think about is Steve, Steve, Steve—
And so you stand up.
“Wait, (Y/N),” Nancy starts, “What are you—”
“You’re not going in there!” Eddie screams, trying to grab you by the arm.
“I—” You start, but can’t seem to decide on what to say. You don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you know you’ll do it anyway. You have no plan, that much is certain, you’ve never fought a day in your life. “I can’t just stay here!”
“Are you insane?!”
Robin pales. “No, (Y/N), wait—”
With one last look at the rest of the guys, you dive into the water and swim. You’ve never been a good swimmer, but you find yourself swimming like you’ve never had, quickly finding the red portal Steve had mentioned before being dragged down here. What you find on the other side reminds you of when you met Vecna— when he showed you your memories, cold, distorted and dark. You briefly wonder if Vecna had managed to drag you all the way here then, but you have no time to dwell on it too much.
Steve is laying on his back, as some creatures bite at his abdomen incessantly, like leeches. They are choking him, curling their tails around his neck. You stand up and run towards him, only to notice the others have followed behind you, their wet footsteps a reassurance.
“(Y/N)!” Nancy yells, making you turn. She throws one of the boat’s paddles at you, keeping one for herself. 
You manage to catch it, God knows how. Steve is still struggling when you get to him, and the first thing you do is smack one of the things across the face, forcing it on its back and stopping it from further gnawing Steve’s abdomen. You see as Robin starts stomping on the one who has its tail curled around Steve’s neck, and Nancy takes on the other one.
“Shit,” Eddie murmurs when he looks up the sky and sees even more of them approaching.
One of them starts going after Nancy, Eddie trying to come to her rescue by grabbing Steve’s still working flashlight and smacking it as hard as he can manage. You help Robin by hitting the one she’s stomping on with the paddle, until Steve manages to bite its tail, forcing it to curl itself from his neck. 
With more coming, you are distracted enough to barely notice when Steve manages to behead it, his lips stained with pitch black blood.
“Jesus christ,” Eddie mumbles. “Jesus H Christ!”
The adrenaline pumping through your veins, your heartbeat going faster— everything seems to go for so long, when in reality it must’ve been just a few minutes.
“Steve,” you manage to rasp out, walking towards him, only looking at his wounds, unsure of what you can do to help him. “Shit, Steve, are you okay?”
“They only took about a pound of flesh,” he says, making you sigh. “But other than that… Yeah, never better.”
He stares at you when he says it, and you can’t help the way your breath catches.
“You’ll need bandages,” Nancy notes.
“Do you guys know if these bats have like, rabbies?” Robin wonders aloud. Aware that everyone’s eyes are on her, Robin starts rambling about rabies symptoms and death. You and Steve glance at each other.
Steve’s chest is still rising erratically, exhausted, when he asks, “What the hell are you talking about, Robin?”
Before Robin can go on any longer though, the sky is tinted red again, and the screeching of even more approaching creatures gets you on edge. 
“We need to get the fuck out of here,” you say, and the rest of the group seem to agree.
The five of you break into a run into the forest, as far as you can before Steve’s wounds start to appear more serious, and when Nancy deems it safe enough, you stop near a tree where Steve can lean against, still breathing rapidly. You remember that Nancy said he’d need bandages, and so you take the hem of your pants and start ripping them open.
“What are you—” Steve starts.
“Bandages,” you say. “I saw this in Indiana Jones.”
“Indiana Jones?” Steve asks with a chuckle, looking up at the sky, smiling. “Your movie choices keep surprising me, Henderson.”
You tie the cloth around his wounds as tightly as you can, hopeful that it’s a good enough job to keep him from bleeding out until you guys get out of here. The wounds don’t look too bad, but you have no idea how long you'll stay here for. Nancy, looking over your shoulders, seems to approve of your bandage work.
“Thanks,” Steve rasps out.
“Just don’t die on me,” you nod, staring at his eyes.
“I’ll try not to.”
He holds your gaze, your mouth going even more dry than it already is. “I’ll hold you to that, Harrington.”
You’re interrupted when Steve catches something behind you. It’s Eddie’s jean vest. When you turn, Eddie scrunches up his nose.
“For modesty, man.”
“We escaped now, but there’s more of those monsters than what we saw,” Nancy interrupts, walking around, trying to think. “They’ll come looking for us. We need to get out of here.”
“So,” Eddie starts, running a hand through his mouth. “What the hell do we do now? How do we get out of here, exactly?”
“We need to find another portal, right?” Robin replies. “That’s the only way to get out of here. But we can’t go back to Watergate, it’s probably full of those bats now. Those bats full of rabies!”
 “Right now, the most important thing is to defend ourselves,” Nancy says. “We don’t know what kind of monsters are down here. Maybe they’re even worse than that.”
“Hell,” Eddie breathes. “You think Vecna is here?”
“I don’t know… Maybe.”
A chill runs down your spine at the mention of Vecna’s name. Your hand flies to your ear, and only then you realize you’ve jumped in the water with your headphones on, and when you reach the player secured inside your front pocket it’s wet and broken. Through the adrenaline of the fight, you hadn’t even noticed that the song was no longer playing. 
“Shit,” Nancy breathes out, looking at your ruined headphones. “The player.”
“It’s ruined,” you lament, seeing the way it’s soaked. You toss the cassette player to the ground, near Steve’s feet, who pales even more, if it’s even possible.
“Fuck,” he says, breathless, the slight reassuring smile he’d been wearing disappears in an instant. He stands up straight despite his body clearly protesting against it. “We need to find another one before it’s too late.”
“Would it even work here?” Robin wonders. “If it’s one from the Upside Down, I mean. Things seem to be… kind of broken here, don’t they?”
“Then we need to get her out of here right now,” Steve urges, and when he starts trying to walk away it’s Eddie who stops him.
“Dude, do you want your intestines to hang out of your abdomen like some shitty Nightmare on Elm Street scene?” he asks, “Stay still! Those bats could be anywhere!”
“We need to move!”
“Steve, wait a second,” you urge after him.
“We could go to my house,” Nancy offers. “I have guns. We could use them to fend off the demo… bats, or whatever. And we need a player. We can use Mike’s, he has one he didn’t take to California.”
Eddie blinks. “You, Nancy Wheeler… have guns.”
Robin grins. “Full of surprises, isn’t she?”
Steve is already on his way despite his groans of pain, and even though the wounds had seemed pretty superficial to you when you wrapped them up, it doesn’t mean that they don’t hurt like a bitch.
“Steve, you’re just hurting yourself even more now,” Now Robin is sighing, exasperated. You briefly wonder how many times she’s had to deal with Steve like this.
“Let’s go,” he says, ignoring her.
“Steve...” you try to stop him, but he turns around quickly.
“Let’s go!” 
Robin scoffs, crossing his arms. “Where are we even going, oh great leader?”
“Nancy’s!”
You all turn to look at each other, unsure if following Steve is the best idea, but with nothing else to do and no other ideas, there’s only one thing to do.
And so you all start walking.
📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼📼
It’s a while before you arrive at the Wheeler’s, the five of you mostly exhausted from the fight, with Steve clutching his wounds but still leading the way, right next to Nancy. You’re all on edge the entire way back, but despite the lack of music you don’t feel different yet, and you don’t encounter any more demobats, as Nancy had called them.
Nancy’s house seems haunted in this place, just as much as the rest of Hawkins seems to be. Despite housing monsters, the Upside Down looks more like a ghost town than anything. You couldn’t help but wonder how tiny Will Byers had ever survived something like this so young… Nobody ever gives that kid enough credit. 
Nancy wastes no time climbing up the stairs; she almost seems unaffected looking at her house like this, so… dead. She hovers near a door and turns to look at you.
“This is Mike’s room,” she nods at it. “His cassette player should be in there. Me, Eddie and Robin will get the guns and look for the cassette in my room.”
You agree to it, and she disappears down the hallway along with Eddie and Robin. You and Steve enter Mike’s room, start rummaging through cabinets. You work in silence. You’ve never seen Steve this quiet, this focused. You wonder if he’s mad at you— he had to be. Now besides demobats and trying to escape, he had to help you too because you’d went and done something stupid and completely irrational.
Steve clears his throat, holding up something in his hand. “Found it,” he calls. “Think it’ll work?” He wonders aloud, as you close the closet door before walking up to him.
“Here,” You say, then pull your ruined flashlight from your back pocket. You hit the back of it against the palm of your hand and the batteries come off. You’re not sure if this might work since the flashlight got wet and stopped working once you jumped into the water, but once you plug them into the cassette player it seems to come to life. Steve sighs, relieved. “Thank God that worked. Let’s get that stupid cassette and get out of here.”
“Sounds good to me,” he quips. He wets his lips, looking around. “You don’t feel any different, though, right?” When you shake your head, he seems to be able to relax a bit. “When we were on our way here, Eddie told me you didn’t waste a second to help me.”
You wait for Steve to continue, but he doesn’t.
“I’ve never been much of an adventurer when we were kids,” you say. “Dustin wanted to climb trees and go camping, and I wanted to stay home and read books. We used to fight all the time because I never wanted to play outside with him, because I was scared of bugs and dirt and I just wanted to stay inside.”
Steve doesn’t say anything to that, but he’s near you, hoving near your hand, like he knows you need the comfort, unsure if it’d be wanted from him. 
“If I don’t make it out of this stupid curse, Steve,” you breathe out, legs feeling so shaky you want to throw up, “I need you to promise me you’ll take care of Dustin.”
“He’ll kill me before I let you die,” Steve says, trying t sound lighthearted but failing.
“Steve,” you rag out. “Promise me. Please.”
Steve nods, his voice soft in the way it does when he’s trying to be gentle. “Y—yeah. Of course. You know little Henderson’s like my own little brother.”
“I know,” you acknowledge. “You’ve been a way better sibling than me. I’ve been such a shitty sister and I’m… I’m really glad Dustin has you.”
“That’s not true,” he argues, reaching for your arm in the darkness of the room— you want to flinch away. “He loves you, (Y/N). Seriously, you should hear the way he talks about you when you’re not around.”
You ignore the sting in your eyes and berate yourself for tearing up.
“It’s my fault,” you whisper.
“What?”
“It’s my fault my dad walked away,” you shake your head, tearing your arm away from Steve’s touch, feeling cold as soon as you’re away from him. But you deserve it, you deserve the cold. “I told him I hated him after I learned he cheated on mom and that he had another family, and he never came back. I told him I never wanted to see him again. I’m the reason Dustin doesn’t have a dad now. But— but I was just fifteen, I didn’t— I didn’t know what I was asking—”
“Stop, stop,” Steve interrupts, and suddenly he’s pulling you close to your chest and holding you close.
And suddenly that’s all you need to break down, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. You feel embarrased, stupid for crying about something like this when the world might be about to end, horrifyingly guilty for everything— but for the first time you feel like something has been finally lifted off your chest and you can breathe, here, with Steve holding you. You’re glad Steve stayed behind with you. In truth, you think you might just be glad for Steve.
If someone had told you a week ago you’d be crying in Steve Harrington’s arms you would’ve smacked them. Life can change really fast, huh?
“Nobody is going to die,” his voice is so soft. You’d never thought you’d think of Steve’s voice as anything other than grating, but now you hold onto it like a lifeline. “I won’t let that happen.”
You breathe into his chest. You finally manage to let go of him, thanking God the others weren’t near. You miss the warmth almost immediately, as much as you don’t want to admit it. “Shit, sorry, your bandages.”
“You need to stop doing that,” he quips.
“What?”
“Apologizing so much,” he reaches for your arm again before walking, and you thank him silently. You have to bite your tongue not to apologize again. “Let’s go get that cassette.”
When you both step into Nancy’s room, the silence is almost deafening. 
“What happened?” 
“The guns,” Nancy explains, her eyes focused on her nightstand, not looking up at either of you. “They aren’t here. But so many things that shouldn’t be are. Like— like my curtains, and these— these toys I gifted my cousin Joanna. They haven’t been here since 1983.”
“We’re stuck in time, dude,” Eddie finishes for her.
“Three years, to be exact.”
“What?” Steve asks, confused. “Three years into the past?”
“... From when Will disappeared, you mean?” You question.
Nancy nods. “Yeah, I… think so. But, (Y/N), If we’re three years in the past, it means The Breakfast Club isn’t out yet,” Nancy swallows, hard, then finally looks up to stare into your eyes. 
“What do you mean?” Steve asks, his chest rising erratically. 
You bite your lip. “She means the song doesn’t exist, either.”
Nancy closes her eyes.
“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” 
“Fuck!” Steve yells, “fuck!”
He kicks one of Nancy’s nightstands with so much force he manages to force it into the ground, Nancy’s belongings following suit, scattering around the carpet, making Nancy flinch. 
“Steve,” you whisper, trying to reach for him. “Stop.”
Steve sits on Nancy’s bed, hand covering his mouth. He lets you rest your hand on his arm, and he breathes out another curse. He almost looks frozen in place like this, and it reminds you that everything in here feels like it is— ghosts, so many ghosts. You feel like you’re stuck in hell. 
“Maybe any song will work,” Robin offers a little desperately, going through Nancy’s drawers, pulling out different cassettes and soundtracks, Duran Duran, Madonna, Elton John. “C’mon guys, one has to work.”
Eddie scratches his neck. “Doesn’t it have to be her favorite song? Isn’t that what Henderon said?”
“Screw it,” Nancy shakes her head, taking in a shaky breath. “We have to try whatever we can. This is our only option.”
“Okay,” you nod, shakily, prying your hand off of Steve’s arm, reaching to cruch own next to Robin and look through the rest of Nancy’s cassettes. “Okay, let’s— let’s try it.”
Robin holds up Total Eclipse of the Heart. “You like Bonnie Tyler?” 
“Seems as good as anything,” you nod, taking it from her hands. As the first notes of Total Eclipse start playing, you gulp nervously, praying this might work, that you have at least enough time to get out of here alive.
Steve still looks miserable, but seems a little calmer now. “We need to get out of here right now.”
“How?” Robin sighs. “How did Will ever manage to get out of this place?”
“There has to be a way,” Nancy figures, then something seems to dawn on her. “Will. Will used to talk to Joyce with the Christmas lights while he was stuck in the Upside Down.”
“The Christmas lights?” Eddie asks, incredulously. “What are you talking about?”
As she explains, you can’t help but think that Nancy Wheeler is absolutely brilliant. You can’t blame Steve for falling in love with her before. She’s interrupted by Robin rather quickly though, when she claims she can hear Dustin’s voice— soon enough, all of you start to hear him, distorted and distant, but it's there no less. Quickly Dustin communicates that he thinks there might be another portal in Eddie’s trailer and that seems to be your best shot at an escape.
Robin and Nancy leave to get some supplies for the trip— whatever they can find to use as a weapon, while Eddie wanders off behind them, with the excuse of rummaging through little Wheeler’s action figures. Steve stays with you, as you stare at Holly’s Lite Brite, unsure on what to do. 
You trust Dustin and his plan, of course you do. Dustin’s done nothing but prove himself to you these past few days. Still, the thought that everything might go incredibly wrong is almost unshakable at this point. What was it Max said to you? Something about how Vecna’s curse made people feel hopeless and lonely.
“You okay, right?” Steve wonders aloud, searching your face. “You haven’t had any visions yet?”
You haven’t felt Vecna’s pull yet, but you don’t want to be overly optimistic just yet. “I’m okay, I think. Are you?”
You glance down at his bandages, but he only nods. “Yeah, they don’t hurt anymore. I’m more worried about you.”
Warmth spreads all over your cheeks and inside your chest, but now’s really not the time for all of these feelings, and so you try to squeeze them out, to focus on something else. 
“I just hope the plan works,” you mumble. “I want to get out of here.”
“You—” Steve shakes his head, looks at you with a look you can’t name. But he sounds frustrated, exhausted. “You just jumped in after me? You didn’t even think…” he trails off. “Eddie said you just jumped. Fucking jumped. You’re unbelievable, you know that, don’t you, Henderson? Absolutely fucking unbelievable.” 
You look down at your hands.
“It was stupid, I know, I—”
“Thank you,” Steve murmurs, honesty bleeding into every word he speaks. You look up at him, surprised. “You saved my ass back there.”
The truth is you hadn’t doubted one second— you hadn’t even stopped to think about what might happen to you. Helping Steve was more important to you than anything in that moment, and you didn’t regret it, how could you regret that? 
“You saved my ass first, back at the Wheeler’s,” you smile at him. “Even later, in the woods, and at Creel’s house. I don’t know if I could have kept going without you… so thank you.”
Steve stays silent for a few seconds, unsure of how to continue. You can practically feel him grow nervous now, when he clears his throat and begins speaking. “Listen, I know we are on the brink of life and death and maybe world threatening danger, but I kinda need some motivation to get out of here.”
“Yeah?”
“So, now that you know me and Nancy aren’t really a thing, and that me and Robin are platonic with a capital P…”
“Keep going.”
“And since you know, maybe is really cool,” you nod, trying to fight off a smile. “We should, maybe, go on a date together.”
“Hm…” you place a hand on your chin. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I can go out with someone who doesn’t like Pretty in Pink.”
“I’ve never said I didn’t,” he shrugs. “I just haven’t even seen it.”
“You haven’t seen Pretty in Pink, you monster?!”
“You know, I’m actively bleeding out here,” Steve gestures at your last minute bandages, his smile almost as handsome as him, even more so after tearing off a bat monster’s head off. Even more so now that it seems you finally have a plan to get out of this goddamn place. “You’re gonna make a dying man wait?”
“You’re not dying, Harrington.” You smack him gently across the shoulders. “I won’t let you.”
Steve chuckles, his hand finding its way to yours, almost nervous, scared of rejection. 
“So? What do you say?”
“I say that if we get out of here alive, and it seems like kind of a longshot right now…” you acknowledge, holding onto his hand and squeezing. “I would really, really like that.”
“Yeah?”
You’re smiling. “Yeah.”
You both might be the people with the worst timing in the entire world— you’re cursed by a demon villain from another dimension, and Steve is bleeding out while you’re both trapped inside the Upside Down, with no clue if you’ll be able to actually escape. Not to mention this is all happening in his ex's house. And yet you can’t help but laugh when Steve tries to reach for the back of your neck and fails miserably.
“I really want to kiss you,” he says, “but my abdomen still really hurts.”
“I have to do everything,” you tease, before closing the distance between you, your lips pressing against his with a sigh. 
Steve’s lips are chapped, bloody, raw, and yours must be equally as bad, salty, open and bleeding raw. But despite everything the kiss is perfect, as imperfect and uncoordinated as it is; the way your lips fit together, the way Steve cradles your cheek, and how you hold the back of his neck while Bonnie Tyler plays in the background of it all. Now, more than anything, you feel hope.
When you break off the kiss, Steve is smiling. 
“Let’s get out of here,” he says. And you just might.
11K notes · View notes
chalametluvrz · 7 months
Text
stranger things p♡rn links
Tumblr media
steve harrington
steve’s passenger princess
kitten licking
railing your cunt
he knows how to treat you
manhandling you
eddie munson
his good little maid
using your pussy
playing rough
thigh fucking you
morning sex
robin buckley
playing with your pussy
enjoying her ‘cock’
eating your cunt
making a mess of her face
destroying your fuckhole
nancy wheeler
eating her out in steve’s car
overstimulating her
when she misses you
showering together turns dirty
taking control of her
jonathan byers
treating you good
“painting” you
rough backshots
riding him desperately
it’s all about you
note: all the links are working as of sep 13th!!! you will need to log into ur twitter and remove the sensitivity setting <3
565 notes · View notes
bruisedboys · 3 months
Note
aaaand for candy cane, how about the cold prompt from the first list with loml steve 🫶🫶 congrats again on 6k mal! u deserve every but and more ily
anna my angel thank u sm!! i love you lots mwah xx
prompt: sender places their jacket over receiver's shoulders.
steve harrington x fem!reader
“You look cold.”
You pull your gaze from the horizon, where the sun’s just dipped below the long stretch of ocean ahead of you. Steve’s standing in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest and one hand cupping the opposite elbow. He’s frowning at you.
“Oh, hi, Steve,” you say, smiling up at him. He’s super tall. And super handsome. “I’m not cold.”
You kind of are. But you don’t want him to worry about you. He’d probably make the kids pack up just so he can take you somewhere warm, and they’re having the time of their lives playing volleyball on the beach right now. You’ve never heard Max laugh so much, and Dustin hasn’t complained about sand in his shoes once. You don’t want to ruin the fun just because you forgot to bring a sweater.
Steve hums in a disbelieving sort of way. You’ve got no escape as he sits down next to you on the log your perched on, stretches his legs out next to yours, and holds out his hands.
“Give me your hands?” He says, palms facing up.
Reluctantly, you put your hands on top of his. His skin is shockingly warm against your cold hands.
“Woah,” Steve says, eyebrows shooting up into his hair. He frowns at you as his thumbs push into the backs of your hands. “What are you, a snowman? You’re cold as ice, honey.”
Honey? You sit there dumbfounded for a moment. Meanwhile, Steve is sandwiching your hands between both of his in an attempt to warm you up, you suppose. It’s working, though you’re pretty sure it’s got nothing to do with his body heat, and everything to do with that fact that you have a schoolgirl crush on him and he’s really, really close right now.
“I’m fine,” you finally manage, a bit strained. It’s hard to think when he’s holding your hands in his, let alone talk.
Steve just frowns at you, disbelieving. “You should’ve said something sooner, babe,” he says. “Here, do you want my jacket?”
“No, Steve, that’s—“
But he’s already releasing you to shed his jacket, sliding it off his arms with ease to reveal a tight polo underneath. The material hugs his biceps, stretches across his lean chest. You’re so busy staring at his arms you forget to protest as he carefully places his jacket over your shoulders.
You’re instantly engulfed in a bubble of warmth. His jacket is a light material but it’s soft on the inside and much, much warmer than your thin t-shirt. Not to mention it smells so much like him it’s almost dizzying.
“There you go,” he’s saying, smoothing the material over your shoulders with his palms. His touching sends a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold. “Is that any better?”
“I— yeah. Yeah, Steve, thank you,” you stammer. Your heart pitter-patters in your chest. The jacket is nice but his kindness alone is enough to warm you through. “Thanks.”
Steve smiles at you. He doesn’t seem to notice your flustered state, or if he does, he doesn’t mention it.
“No problem,” Steve says, grinning boyishly. He rubs your shoulder one last time before drawing away. “Couldn’t let a pretty girl like you freeze to death.”
You spend the rest of your time at the beach hot as a flame.
246 notes · View notes
prettybabybaby · 2 years
Text
¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !
content warning: stealthing, forced breeding
¡ stranger things masterlist !
steve wants to see your belly round with his babies. he wants to see you waddle around with swollen feet and the radiant glow of pregnancy. he wants to cum deep inside you, fill you with his cum over and over again. he wants fuck it back into you until he has nothing left to give you, until his cum is so deep inside you that there’s no way it won’t stick.
steve wishes to breed you. he wishes to make you his submissive little housewife, delicate and warm and carrying his children in your fertile womb. he wishes to come home to you in your pretty dresses, apron wrapped around you as your kids run rampant around your home while you cook dinner in the kitchen, hands on your back, supporting your heavy stomach.
he grunts as he pounds into you with increasing fervor, dropping his head into your neck to suckle on your pulse point. you whine his name and rake your nails down his back.
steve knows you’re not on the pill. he knows you’re not ready for children, in fact, you aren’t sure you want any at all. when you’d broken the news to him, he wasn’t sure what to think. his mind had gone blank, then, to places it never had before. you are going to build a family with him. you are going to be his pretty little wife, sitting pretty at home with his kids.
the condom around his cock is a obstacle in the way of his desired family. how else is he gonna fuck his cum so deep inside of you that you feel it penetrate your womb?
he slides the thin latex off his cock before bottoming out. you feel so much better without it. he growls into your throat, loving the way your heart speeds up. can you feel the difference too? is your body aware of what he has done? is it craving his cum?
you’re squeezing him so tightly he’s sure that you want to milk him dry. he trembles as you moan wildly.
“steve,” you squeak, “gonna cum!”
he bites your throat when you spasm around him, groaning into your flesh. you go limp under his hold leaving your body at his mercy and he feels himself become impossibly harder. his submissive little girl.
steve has always wanted to fuck you raw. and now he is. he feels every dip and ridge that line your insides. he feels the spongy area within your tight walls that leaves you crying.
he fucks you eagerly, wishing to see you leak of his cum, knowing that his semen is penetrating your egg deep within you. he grabs your waist and doesn’t hold back, pushing into you as deep and hard as he can. you wail under him, eyes lined with tears. “gonna breed you,” he snarls, “gonna make such a pretty mommy, huh?”
you don’t respond, unable to with all your cries. “gonna cum so deep inside you, there’s no way it isn’t gonna stick.”
“p-pull,” your chest heaves, “out.”
his hips are flush to yours when he cums but his hips still stutter as if they wanted to go deeper.
your eyes are spilling tears and open wide as you stare up at him, “steve, i-is that…” your finger points weakly to the condom by his thigh.
he thrusts shallowly. he’d never tire of the sound of his cum being forced into your cunt. “told you I was gonna make you a mommy. my beautiful wife.”
4K notes · View notes
astermath · 9 months
Text
unexpected guest *ੈ✩‧
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader
summary: steve isn’t too pleased when you come home with a stray kitten. money is tight, you’re both working full time, and he was never too fond of cats to begin with. somehow, you manage to convince him to keep it anyways.
word count: 1.7K
tags: established relationship, steve and reader are living together in Indianapolis, normal sized font below the cut!
notes: been a little unmotivated recently but nothing motivates me like imagining steve harrington holding a cute animal tbh. he always struck me as a dog type, but I feel like he’d enjoy cats too. thanks to @inkluvs for helping me decide on a title and rambling with me &lt;3
let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further steve harrington related content! requests are open!
Tumblr media
The pitter patter of heavy rain made for an eerie symphony outside the apartment you shared with Steve. The air is foggy, humid, and it usually wouldn't make him feel this unsettled. No, in fact, he quite likes the rain. When he's inside at least, cuddled up with you on the couch to inevitably watch whatever you wanted on the TV.
But the apartment is empty, at an hour when it normally shouldn't be. Steve's eyes find the faint red glow of the oven's clock; you should have been home an hour ago. Worry settles in his stomach at the thought of all the reasons you could possibly be late. Maybe you were stuck somewhere, kidnapped, or worse.
His socked feet tread along your hardwood floor, pacing with his lip caught under his teeth. Steve knows you’re a capable woman who can handle herself, but you’re never late. He knows you’re always getting home as fast as you can, having missed him and your lovely apartment all day.
He's already reaching for the phone to call you when he hears the familiar jingle of your keys behind the door. A feeling of intense relief washes over him when you open the door and he's met with your beautiful appearance. Wet, messy, and disheveled, but beautiful.
He wastes no time, strong arms winding around you as soon as your coat is off, face buried in your soaked hair.
You chuckle, awkwardly shuffling one of your arms from in between the embrace to rub over his back.
"You're late." He mumbles into the crown of your head, before pressing a kiss into it.
"I know, I'm sorry, I just got really held up at work."
Steve frowns at your excuse. Your boss is really nice, and you're usually never back late. Plus, it's a Tuesday, the café you work at couldn't have been that busy, right?
That's when he notices your other hand, clutching a bag filled with what at first glance seems like random stuff and a blanket.
"Whatcha got there, hm?" He pulls away slightly, head tilting to motion to your mystery bag.
"Oh, nothing," you try your best at a convincing smile, "just some leftovers from work." You swallow, and when you meet your boyfriend's eyes he's giving you that look. It's the same one he gives you when you ate the last bit of ice cream, or when you try to get out of running errands. You suck at lying, you're both well aware of that.
The silence is broken when a soft, squeaky noise erupts from the bag. Your feeble attempt at covering it up with a forced cough is apparently not enough, because Steve is now reaching for the bag, wanting to see for himself what you'd brought in with you.
"N-No, Steve!" You pull your arm away, careful not to shuffle the bag around too much. Whatever was inside was probably fragile, he thought. "It's a, uhm... It's a-- a surprise!" You try to sneak past him to head to your bedroom, but he stops you by wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.
"Honey," he leans his head down so his lips are close to your ear. If you weren't so focused on covering up what was in the bag, you were sure your knees would have buckled at the sound of his sultry voice, "you're gonna tell me what's in the bag, alright?"
Your shoulders drop slightly, a defeated sigh emitting from you as you turn around. "Will you promise not to get mad?"
"Sugar..." His brows furrow, already worried about what's it going to be.
"I'm serious," you look up at him with puppy eyes, "promise?"
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He could never deny you anything when you were looking at him like that. "Fine, promise. Just-- Just show me, alright?"
You crouch down, taking off the blanket that was pretty much drenched from the rain to reveal a box. You're really careful, hands a little shaky, and Steve's curiosity grows by the second.
Finally, you open up the box. He has to squint for a moment, not sure what he's seeing exactly, so he crouches down across you to have a better look.
In the corner of the box is a tiny lump of black fur, mewling surprisingly loud for its small size. Its blue eyes are almost entirely overtaken by the size of its pupils, and it's shaking a little from what he can only assume to be the cold.
"Baby, where did you--"
"Side of the road." You reached out to run a single finger under the kitten's chin, and it wobbles a little from the contact. It couldn't be more than a few weeks old. "It was all alone, sopping wet and shivering." You sniffle, and Steve's heart nearly shatters at the sight of you tearing up over it.
"It probably wouldn't have survived if I didn't do anything," a stray tear rolls down your cheek, "so I took it to the vet for an emergency checkup, got some wet cat food, and-- I don't know, I just... Look at it, Stevie."
The small feline stares at him, not scared, just curious as to who this large creature in front of it is. Steve frowns, resisting the urge to pet it before he starts to grow an actual attachment to it.
"Honey, you know we can't keep it..."
"Why not?" You sound hurt, but you know all the reasons why. First of all, Steve doesn't even like cats. He's always been a dog person, wanting to live out his six children fantasy with a golden retriever as a pet one day. Second of all, money is tight. You both work your asses off trying to save up for a better place someday, an actual house, and a pet can bring a lot of unforeseen costs with it. Yet something in you remains hopeful. That something is also aware of the effect you have on your boyfriend, and how convincing you can be.
He gives you a thin lipped smile in an attempt to comfort you, but you're not meeting his eyes. You're too focused on the little blessing in front of you, that you've already secretly named; Olive.
Steve tries to lean in and hug you, but suddenly, the kitten jumps out of the box and onto his lap. He feels its little baby claws go straight through the fabric of his sweatpants, wincing slightly at the feeling as he attempts to capture the little rascal in his hands. To no avail, as little Olive keeps climbing up his lap and onto his sweatshirt. It's surprisingly fast, for how tiny it is.
"H-Hey, come on now, this is my favorite sweater! You're puttin' holes in it you little demon!" Steve seems a little frazzled, not sure how to delicately handle an animal this small. It seems so tiny and fragile, yet it’s jumping around like it’s Spider-man or something.
You watch as your boyfriend continuously tries to remove the kitten from clawing at his sweater, and though you’re trying to be serious about convincing him and all that, it’s kind of hard when you’re looking at just about the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. You’re already so weak for the sight of Steve by himself, let alone accompanied by an adorable little cat.
Eventually he gets a hold of Olive, holding her up with his hands as it tries to gnaw at his fingers. “Oh you’re totally staying in air jail now young lady.” He glances over at you. “She’s a girl cat right?”
You nod, and he can tell you’re holding back your laugh.
“What?”
You snort. “Nothing, just— for someone who doesn’t want a cat, you already seem pretty attached.”
“Wha— I— Ow!” he winces when Olive starts digging her sharp little fangs into his thumb. He doesn’t let go of her though, still holding her up with a gentle grip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m just— disciplining her for the next person to get her.”
“Mhm, totally.” You grin, reaching out to pet the little black lump of fur he’s holding. She seems to respond much calmer to your touch. “Maybe… You wouldn’t be opposed to the idea of fostering her then?” You look up with those same puppy eyes again, and Steve thinks this is probably the deadliest combo he’s ever witnessed. Not only does he have to deal with your pleading gaze, but it’s now accompanied by the cutest little animal too. He’s only human, after all.
He sighs, carefully setting Olive back down into her box. He just looks at her for a second, surprised at how full of life she is. He always thought cats were lazy and indifferent to their surroundings, but this little one was practically bouncing off the walls.
“No—“ he starts.
“But Stevie!”
“Uh uh uh!” he holds up a finger, halting your sounds of protest. “You didn’t let me finish, sugar.”
You huff, rolling your eyes.
“I was gonna say, no,” he reaches out a single finger to scratch under Olive’s chin, “because I have a feeling we’re just going to keep her anyways.” His eyes return to yours, and he can see the hopeful glint in your expression. “You really like her, don’t you?”
You nod, smiling warmly. “Do you?”
“Well,” he wiggles finger, watching how she tries to play with it, “maybe she’s growing on me a little.”
“You love her.” You grin.
“Well, what can I say, I got a lot of love to give.” He reaches out his arm to pull you close, wrapping around your shoulder and planting a kiss on your head. You both just sit there on the floor for a while, playing with your newfound pet until she gets all tuckered out.
“You know,” you speak softly, not wanting to wake her up, “I’m really glad you agreed to keep her.”
Steve smiles, eyes still watching Olive sleep so peacefully. The contrast to her previous hyper activeness is stark. “Yeah? Why’s that?”
“Well,” You leaned your head against his shoulder. “I have a feeling she’s going to fit in here well. Like a little family.”
His heart swells with warmth at the word ‘family’. You know that means a lot to him, and in a way, he agrees. It’s a great first step to building something more akin to a home.
“And… Maybe I already got her chipped and registered at the vet before I got here.”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course you did.”
“Love you.” you chuckle, knowing he’s going to forgive you for your impulsiveness either way.
He kisses your head once more. “Love you too.”
Tumblr media
tag list <3
@palmtreesx3
640 notes · View notes
thewulf · 2 months
Text
Treat You Better || Steve Harrington
Summary: Request - Steve Harrington x Reader based on Treat You Better by Shawn Mendes😩 I used to LOVE that song when i was younger, and now it just reminds me of my boy stevee💙
A/N: Loved writing these even though men suck (sometimes!!). Thank you for the request @marennnx. This is a 3x1 - or the three times your boyfriend treated you like crap and the one time he did something about it!
Pairing: Steve Harrington x Female Reader
Word Count: 3.7k +
T/W: Dismissive boyfriend, absent boyfriend, gaslighting
Tumblr media
Steve Harrington had been a constant in your life as you grew up in the small town of Hawkins. You’d moved in next to the Harrington’s when you were just six and became fast friends with the neighbor boy, Steve. The two of you became fast friends as there was no other six- or seven-years old’s in the neighborhood close to you. You’d quite literally been there for each and every single first for the other. You’d learned and grew through life with Steve right by your side.
For the first time in your lives things got a little strained when he started dating Nancy. Not that you didn’t like her, she was lovely. It’s that Steve did that stereotypical thing and kind of forgot about you for a while. Tired of being bored around your house you too started going out and doing things with your other friends. It was fun, you enjoyed yourself. You still wished you were doing it all with Steve though.
Then you met Derek. You’d seen him around Hawkins High but never actually met. Not until the summer Steve had ditched you. That was almost a year ago now. Steve and Nancy had long since broken up. You and Derek were still hanging on, albeit by a thread, as all of you were heading into your junior year. It dawned on you that you were going to have to start looking at school soon if you really wanted to get the hell out of Hawkins like you and Steve always talked about.
Things never really got back to normal between you and Steve after it was all settled. The two of you talked and hung out more but you attention usually went towards trying to save the failing relationship between you and Derek. You were truly miserable, but you didn’t let a soul know, not even you mom who you usually told everything. It was almost embarrassing admitting it at this point with how much you’d been faking your happiness. Derek also didn’t like you hanging around with Steve. He was jealous of course so you tried to keep it to a minimum or as hush hush as you could.
That was how you got to the semi-awkward place between you and your best friend. The two of you stealing longing glances but neither having the courage to broach the growing tension between the two of you.
Tumblr media
The Bonfire
It was the Friday before school started the next Monday. You’d arrived with Derek, pulling him along to find some seats. It was the annual class tradition since you’d been in eighth grade to have a class wide bonfire before school actually began again. You, of course, had to drag your reluctant boyfriend along with you to the event. That should’ve given you the wherewithal to understand where his attitude would be for the night.
But you ignored it as best as you could. Press on and have fun. Don’t let the stupid boy ruin your fun night. You knew you were pushing it when you found some seats next to Steve. When you stopped in front of him your boyfriend groaned in annoyance. Ignoring him you turned to Steve, “These seats taken?”
He shook his head quickly with a small smile on his face. It wasn’t usual for you to come around let alone with your shit head of a boyfriend in tow. He was missing you more than you even knew. He knew he messed up by nearly dropping you for Nancy completely a year ago. This was his karma, and he was taking it.
He shook his head, “Nope.”
“Come on babe, let’s go get some drinks.” He tried tugging at your hand this time, but you just shook your head instead.
“I’m going to stay here and catch up with Steve. I’ll take a drink though when you make it back over.” You gave him a sweet smile though you knew it was no use. He was already pissed, and you surely pissed him off even further by not doing what he wanted. Steve just looked between the two of you before he grumbled something incoherent and walked off.
“He’s a real charmer, that one is.” Steve knew he probably shouldn’t have said that, but he was growing tired of your boyfriends attitude. He didn’t understand how you could put up with it. You were such a light, happy
You gave your friend a soft smile, “He just didn’t feel like coming out tonight. Cut him some slack.” You knew Steve was at his wits end with him. Your family was too. Nobody seemed to like him but you. And you didn’t even really like him all that well. The solution seemed all too clear, but you still didn’t want to give it up just yet. Derek was your first real relationship. The first guy you said ‘I love you’ too even if he wasn’t the first guy you loved.
“You cut him a lot of that, Y/N.” He spoke freely seeing that Derek was still far away at the drinks table. Even though you asked for a drink you had a feeling he wouldn’t make you one. He’d forget or just not do it as some sort of punishment. That wasn’t love. That was manipulation. You felt that all too familiar sinking feeling growing in your stomach as you thought about your situation.
You looked down feeling the weight of his eyes on you, “I know.
He waited a moment seeing the despondent look on your face, “Hey,” He waited to continue until you looked back up to him. When you finally found the courage he continued, “You just deserve so much more than that. Somebody who wants to be with you…”
You shook your head stopping him, “That person doesn’t exist here. So, I’ll just enjoy what I can. Alright?” Your voice snapped at his ever so slightly telling him you were done talking about it.
He knew he shouldn’t have pressed, but you were his very best friend. He cared for you. Wanted the best for you. Loved you so dearly. He hated to see you treated less than how you deserved, “That’s just not true Y/N.”
“Steve.” Your eyes told him to drop it. There was a reason you didn’t tell or show your friends or family about that side of him. It made it pretty obvious how shitty he actually was.
He gave you a quick nod before leaning back in his seat, “Just think about it. Please?” There was a pleading look in his eyes that made you nod in agreement.
“Yeah, I will.”
He stood up from his seat seeing your boyfriend walk back without a drink for you, “I’ll see you around. Remember what I said.” He gave your boyfriend a sharp look before heading to the drink table deciding to get you a drink since your boyfriend had no interest. Steve decided he would show you that somebody did in fact want to treat you right.
Tumblr media
The Football Game
You’d messed up and forgot to swap your light jacket for your heavier coat before heading out for the game. It was fine at first, but the temperature was dropping quick. As soon as the sun set behind the bleachers and the Hawking High football game started you began shivering. You tried cozying up to your boyfriend who was none the wiser of your chilly predicament. But he just shrugged you off.
“Babe.” You whined feeling another shiver ripple down your spine. It was getting cold, cold and you were not prepared.
“Shh, Y/N. I told you not to interrupt when they’re playing. I’ve got to watch Josh.” He grumbled pushing you off him. His brother, Josh, was the star wide receiver of the team and he had to watch everything live to report back to his brother. It made you roll your eyes week in and week out. Derek wasn’t good enough to play varsity, but his older brother was. You’d found it a little weird how much he lived through his older brother when it came to football.
Your mouth clamored back and forth, “But I’m cold Der.” It came out whinier than you intended which surely irritated the man further. How dare you inconvenience him when he needed to pay attention.
He sighed, “I told you to put a coat on. Go get a hot chocolate or something.” He didn’t take his eyes off the game and his voice was audibly annoyed with your presence.
“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes in return before heading off to the concession stands. Walking was good. It got your blood flowing. You needed to move to warm up anyway. It’s not like Derek would even throw and arm around you to warm you up.
You were so focused on walking to get your blood flowing you hadn’t even seen that you zoomed right past Steve who decided to follow you out of curiosity. When he saw you shivering and rubbing your hands back and forth to get some heat to them he had enough, “What are you doing out here in just a jacket?” He shrugged off his overly warm coat and handed it to you.
You shook your head in a hurry, “You’ll get cold Steve.”
“I’m fine. You’re not. Take the damn coat.” He shoved it further into your hands not giving you another chance to argue. When you slipped it on the audible sigh that left your mouth made him crack a small smile even though he was awfully worried about you being out in nearly freezing temperatures with a jacket made for the fall.
“Thank you.” You nodded up to him, “I forgot my coat. Derek told me to get a hot chocolate to warm up.” You laughed it off knowing how bad it sounded. Because it was bad. He was terrible. Derek might not have even liked you. Why were you even with him at this point?
Steve’s smile downturned at your comment. He’d made it quite evident how much he didn’t enjoy your boyfriend or his presence, “Some boyfriend he is.” He grumbled knowing it was likely going to set you off. You’d been more than defensive about your relationship. You’d always been like this, but it broke him seeing you so seemingly stuck in a loop. You wanted everything to look perfect, but it wasn’t. But you couldn’t admit it because then you’d have to admit it wasn’t perfect. A loop that he couldn’t pull you out of.
“Steve.” You sighed but knew it was a lost cause, especially because you were wrapped up in his coat. You couldn’t really defend the guy that much anymore. It felt so insulting because the entire relationship seemingly fell apart so quickly, right under your nose. Things were fun in the beginning. The two of you got along well and laughed at a lot of different things. But then it turned sour a few months ago, right after Nancy and Steve broke up. It’s not like anything changed for you. But apparently it did for him. It’s like he was pushing you right into Steve’s arms and you were pretty sure you’d be just fine with that.
He put his hands up in defense, “You know what I’m going to tell you.”
You sighed, “I know. I’m thinking about it. I promise.”
He nodded, “Keep the coat tonight. Drop it off whenever. Take care of yourself okay? Anytime you want to talk I’m all ears. I miss you.”
The floor was suddenly far more interesting than his face. You felt bad that you had in fact been avoiding him like he had you early on in his relationship, “Yeah, I miss you too. I’ll stop by more often. Promise.”
He grinned seeing you look back up to him, “That’s two promises I’m going to hold you too.”
You laughed for the first time that night. Curious it came at the mouth of Steve rather than your boyfriend. Your heart tugged as the two of you joked around like old times without your know-it-all boyfriend there to ruin the moment. You knew the relationship with Derek was doomed when you wanted to follow Steve back to his seat rather than head back to your boyfriend. But you had appearances to keep up. So back to Derek you walked.
Tumblr media
Biology Class
“Alright class settle down. Today is the day you’ve all been waiting for. We’ll be dissecting pig hearts!” Your overenthusiastic Biology teacher stood in front of the curious junior class who had a big mix of emotions. Some were thrilled, that was Derek sitting next to you and Steve a row in front of you with his lab partner. Some were not so thrilled, you.
When the teacher set the heart down in front of you, you let out a big breath moving your chair away. Derek just started laughing like a little kid seeing your reaction to the dead pigs heart in front of you. Shooting him daggers you simply covered your mouth and nose with your hand trying your best not to throw up all over the desk in front of you.
When Derek started cutting you thought you might actually puke. The smell alone was starting to send you over the edge, “I don’t think I can do this.” You mumbled scooting even further away. Taking a quick peak around the room you were surprised almost everyone seemed just fine. Seemingly you only had the weak stomach in this class. You didn’t notice Steve’s eyes watching you with caution. He knew you well and knew this would be a unique kind of challenge for you.
“Ahh, grow up would you Y/N?” Derek rolled his eyes before returning to cut away, “Just plug your nose up if it’s that big of a deal.”
You huffed in annoyance at his complete lack of care, “I’m already doing that Derek.” It was sharper than you intended which of course set him off.
“You’re being a baby about it. Grow up.” He snapped back full out ignoring the look on your face. It was becoming harder and harder to fake your happiness. Especially when he treated you like you were nothing but a nuisance to him. Did he even like you? Why did he want to spend time with you if all he did was get annoyed with you? When was the last time you’d genuinely been happy with him? It’d been months. Months since the last time you giggled with him or smiled from a conversation.
You stood from you seat, “I’m getting some air.”
He just continued on, “Suit yourself.”
You stood quickly before letting the teacher know you needed to get some water. You walked to the water fountain down the hall trying your best not to break down right then and there. How did all this happen? How could you have let it all happen so quickly? When did he start to dip out on the relationship? Why wouldn’t he just breakup with you if he was this unhappy?
“Hey,” Steve’s sweet voice pulled you back into the present, “You okay?”
You nodded quickly trying your best to come off as cool as possible, “Yeah, was thirsty.”
He smiled, “It’s just me. You don’t have to lie.”
A frown formed from that. It was just Steve. Why did this all feel so weird and awkward and so far out of your control all the sudden? All you wanted to do was scream and beat on the wall in frustration of how you felt at the state of your life. But you knew better than that. Especially at school.
“I couldn’t take the smell.” You admitted to the boy who cared more to check up on you than the one who supposedly loved you sitting in the classroom. The more you thought of it the more Steve seemed to be the one who cared for you. And you knew he did. But with all that he had done for you and the lack thereof what Derek had made you realize how backwards it all was. You were meant to be with Steve not Derek. Steve cared. Steve loved you. Steve wanted you and put in the effort to be with you. And for some reason you still called Derek your boyfriend.
He grinned, “I knew it. I thought you looked squirrely in there.”
“You were watching?” You asked curiously.
“I’m always watching you.” His grin dropped as he realized how creepy that had sounded, “In a not weird way I promise!”
You laughed at his attempted recovery, “Thanks for checking in Steve.”
“I’m just keeping true to my promises. Speaking of which. How are yours coming along?” His smile grew into a smirk as he knew you were stalling. But that was his job as your best friend to keep pushing. That and he loved you. So, he’d decided it was his time to be selfish. He knew he could treat you better. So much better than that shit head you called a boyfriend.
“I’ve thought about what you said.”
You answer surprised him, “You have? And?”
“You’ll see. Soon.” You gave him a quick nod and smile before leading the two of you back to class. As much as Steve wanted to decipher that with you he knew better than to push too hard. That was more than you’d ever given him, so he was rolling with it for now.
Tumblr media
After School The Next Day
You sat down on the bench in front of the High School in utter defeat. He had forgotten you. This truly was the last straw. Derek had promised he’d take you home knowing your car was in the shop this week and he forgot you. Steve was right. He didn’t give a rats ass about you. He only cared about himself. He only cared about you when it was convenient for himself. How had things unraveled so quickly? You couldn’t keep up this charade anymore. Not when he was up and leaving you places now.
When you heard the soft honk of the car in front of you your heart dropped seeing Steve’s car idling there. Fuck. Why him? He’d seen first-hand how shitty Derek had been treating you these last few weeks and this might actually set him off. Slowly, you walked over to his car. You slid into the front seat not daring to look at him. You just knew he was giving you that disappointed Steve look that only came to his face when Derek did something that should have been a red flag for you.
“You alright?” He asked after a moment of silence.
Closing your eyes you leaned back into the seat, “You’re right.”
“What about?” Steve asked as he pulled out of the school parking lot.
“About Derek. The whole thing. I deserve more.” A tear slipped out as you said it out loud for the first time. Sure, you’d thought about it in your head, but it was different spoken out and for Steve to hang onto.
He pulled over onto the side of the road, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m so glad you’ve realized it. He hadn’t been treating you well.” Steve hesitantly reached out and brushed away the stray tear which brought on an entirely new set of waterworks from his lighter than a feather touch.
He let you cry it out in the passenger’s seat of his car not uttering a word until he thought you could actually hear him, “I’m here for you. It’s okay. You’re okay.” He didn’t know his words only made you cry even further for you were mourning a relationship you never had. One where you thought you were in love, but it was just stupid teenage hormones. The one you loved was sitting right here comforting you beyond your wildest imagination.
You hiccupped after a moment of you unexpected breakdown. A wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized how you had quite literally cried like a baby in front of Steve, “I’m so sorry Stevie.” You whispered breaking out the nickname only he let you use.
“Don’t apologize sweetheart.” He’d never called you that before. Shoot, he’d never really looked at you like this before. He looked at you like how you felt about him. Like he loved you.
“I didn’t mean too… I didn’t…”
He shook his head before pushing up the arm rest separating the two of you. He maneuvered his legs so you could slide over, “Shh, come here. It’s okay. I promise you that. I don’t break my promises, remember?”
You nodded before launching yourself into your best friend arms. You let him wrap you right on up as the car idled with the two of you suctioned together. He squeezed as he held you letting you know that he had no plans or intentions of letting you walk away again.
“Y/N?” He asked after minutes of the two of you just wrapped in the others embrace.
“Yeah?”
He took another second before letting out a long breath, “You remember how I said that somebody wants to treat you better? Somebody out there wants to be that person for you?” He asked with an unusual shakiness in his voice. Uncommon for the usually so confident Steve Harrington.
You hummed just enjoying being wrapped up in his arms. This didn’t happen that often anymore no matter how much you wanted to. You were with Derek. You couldn’t do that. But now? All bets were off, “Yeah, thank you for that.”
He nodded, “I can be that person. I can treat you better. If you’d let me that is.”
You sucked in a breath at his words, “You can?” Was this really happening?
“I can.”
You turned your eyes up to his with a bigger than life smile, “Okay.”
His scared eyes turned hopeful at the simplest of statements, “Okay?”
A quick nod before you turned your head into his chest, “Let’s do it. I love you already so?”
“You do?” His hopeful eyes turned from that of hope to shock right back to those lovey dovey ones he had on you days prior.
“I do.” You grinned feeling better than you had in a long time admitting that to him so freely. It shouldn’t be hard. This was about to be the best thing that you could’ve done for yourself. Who would’ve thought two crappy relationships was all the two of you needed to finally open your eyes to what was right in front of you.
Tumblr media
Permanent Taglist ((If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea
137 notes · View notes
ddejavvu · 2 months
Note
Steve Harrington getting you a stuffed toy just as a present, because he is a gentleman and a good boy and is really in love with you. But then as he comes to just hang out with you at yours, he accidentally spots you on top of his plush toy he got you, and sees you riding it. And his poor jaw nearly drops off his face
this post is 18+, minors dni.
listen that dude stuck the stuffed animal in his car. his car that smells overwhelmingly of his cologne. He sat that thing on the back seat and it was over for you, the fur of the stuffed animal smells like him forever. the thing is, it's a big stuffed animal. like he barely fit it in the backseat of his car. so when you cuddle up to it at night and try sleeping, you're inhaling his scent while simultaneously being pressed up against this massive figure. it.. does not take you long to figure out how to proceed.
and you feel dirty, grinding on this stuffed animal, but if you close your eyes and inhale it smells just like steve, and you find that the fur of the stuffed animal comes in handy for muffling your moans.
it just so happens that your moans can't be completely silenced, so when steve treks up the stairs to your bedroom and you're too engrossed in chasing your orgasm that you don't hear him, he walks into your room and hears exactly what you're trying to keep quiet.
he sees your hips rutting desperately against the giant stuffed animal, your panties soaked with a wet spot from the slick you've smothered the fabric in. You're burying your face desperately against the stuffed animal, just the way you do against steve's chest, and he's all-too-familiar with the moans that are steadily flowing from your slick, parted lips.
"Steve, Stevie-nngh! Ah, Steve," You pant, hips bucking relentlessly, but in vain, against the disappointingly soft stuffed animal. You're in search of friction, but you can't seem to find it against the stuffed softness of the toy.
Really, steve thinks he'd be cruel not to help you out. He moves swiftly, throwing a knee up onto your bed and lining his hips up behind you, a steady bulge growing in his pants from the long while he'd spent watching you without your knowledge. His weight crushes you and he lets it, barely holding any of it with his own arms. His nose hits the back of your neck and he inhales just as you'd done with the stuffed animal, smelling your perfume and sweat alike.
You scream when you feel his hands take hold of your hips but when you register that it's your boyfriend, your terror turns to shame.
"Steve," You cry, still crushed beneath his weight, "I- I'm sorry, I-"
"Don't be sorry," He speaks lowly, grunting slightly as he experimentally humps the friction of his jeans over your ass, rubbing tantalizingly close to your sensitive, aching cunt, "Put your head down again, baby. It'll keep you quiet."
714 notes · View notes
appocalipse · 9 days
Text
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.
999 notes · View notes
moonstruckme · 1 month
Note
Steve x black cat! reader pls. I feel this paring is always necessary 😌
Thanks for requesting!
Steve Harrington x black cat!reader ♡ 625 words
You glower at your boyfriend through the dark lens of your sunglasses. “Don’t come near me with that.” 
Steve smiles cajolingly, approaching with the sunscreen nonetheless. “C’mon, babe, you didn’t come out here just to sit under this umbrella all day.” 
“You know I did.” You dart your stare pointedly to where the pale rocks are growing little puddles of lake water underneath his feet. “If you come over here and drip on my book—” 
“Put the book away,” he coaxes. And he’s convincing, all shiny skin and even shinier smile and his pretty hair stuck damply to his forehead and the back of his neck. One tiny strand curls inward over the curve of his cheekbone, and you want terribly to slick it back in with the others but any affectionate gesture right now would feel too close to giving in. “Lemme put some sunscreen on you so you can come swim with the rest of us.” 
“I’m fine here.” 
“It’s really nice out there.” Steve sits down next to you like a mirror image, his hands by your feet and his feet next to your butt. “The lake’s not too cold or anything, you might like it.” 
You suck your teeth. “I’m just trying to enjoy my book, Steve.” 
He angles his head. “What, you don’t want to spend time with me?” 
You angle your head right back, deadpan. “Don’t.” 
“You know, Max really loves you,” he says, squirting a dollop of sunscreen into his hand and starting to smooth it up your calf. You wrinkle your nose at the smell. “She thinks you’re the coolest. Beats me why, but it’d probably make her week if you went out there.” You’re quiet, and he goes on, encouraged. He works the sunscreen over your knee, hands chaste and purposeful as they run the length of your thigh. “Plus, you know, you can read your book anytime, but these warm days are only gonna last so long before it’s freezing and snowy outside again.” 
“I like when it’s freezing and snowy,” you say, setting your book down on top of your bag before one of you gets sunscreen on it.
“I know, but you won’t be getting the gun show when I’m all hidden under ten layers, y’know?” 
Steve raises his eyebrows at you, and you look away from him, biting down on your smile. You feel more than see your boyfriend’s answering grin, spreading like a blight over his pretty face. He starts on your other leg. 
“And if you come hang out, I’ve got an ice cream sandwich in the cooler with your name on it.” He brushes his thumb over the side of your knee sweetly. “Been saving it for you.” 
You soften. A bit. “You could bring it to me here,” you point out. 
Steve shakes his head, frowning as if he really doesn’t know who’s making these rules and wishes he could change them for you. “Can’t, sorry. Frozen treats are only for those of us out there braving the sun.” 
You cross your arms. “You make it sound so pleasant.” 
He takes one of your arms in his hands, disentangling your defensive stance to continue slathering you in sunscreen. “It’s really not bad,” he says. “Between the ice cream and the cool water, you can pretend it’s winter if you want.” 
“Steve!” You both look out towards the lake, and Robin is waving him over. “Stop flirting with your girlfriend and come back here. We need more people to play chicken!” 
Steve gives you a pleading look. 
“I’m not getting wet,” you tell him firmly. 
He grins and takes your hand, lotion-slicked palm sliding against your own as he pulls you up. “You won’t on my team, don’t worry.”
716 notes · View notes
luveline · 18 days
Note
Hi jade, I have a hurt/comfort request for Steve, maybe reader was there with the party for all the vecna stuff and maybe gets hurt, afterwards Steve taking care of her and staying w her in the hospital and stuff? Love your writing!
thank you for requesting <3 fem!reader
“Did you know there’s like, a concessions stand?” 
You moan at the pain between your shoulders, turning onto your arm. Steve lounges in the chair beside you with a paper plate of donuts on his chest. His legs are kicked up on your bed. He’s taken his shoes off, at least. 
“Free donuts, coffee, they even had flapjacks.” 
“Steve, I think you have to pay for those.” 
He puts the plate on your bed. “Well, they can’t send you to jail.” 
“‘Cos my back’s broken?” 
“‘Cos you’re too pretty for prison.” Steve sits up properly. “You need help?” 
He moves the donuts again onto your nightstand and hooks you under the arms to ease you into a sitting position. You’re back isn’t broken, for the record, but you fell funny coming out of the gate a few days ago and you haven’t bounced back yet. Worse, you've got an infected burn on your hand, wrist and arm from your Molotov cocktail. It’s out of commission, as are you while they pump antibiotics into the crook of your elbow. Steve’s careful not to tug your IV. 
You gasp, the twinge in your back turning to flame. “I know,” Steve murmurs, shockingly sincere, “I’m sorry. You’re not supposed to lie down all the time, or it won’t get better.” 
“I know.” 
“Yeah, of course you do. You know everything.” 
Insult or compliment, you’re unsure. What you do know is that Steve’s come to see you every day since you were checked in, he’s the one who checked you in, and he’s taken good care of you so far. He’s not even your boyfriend, you thought he liked Nancy— but he’s rubbing his hands down your shoulders and looking you in your face despite the horror he’s sure to be witnessing. Bruised eye, greasy nose, hair thankfully clean but completely untouched otherwise. 
“Better?” he asks, cupping your cheek. 
Is he gonna kiss me? you think. You glance down at his lips, then back up. Steve doesn’t notice or doesn’t mention it, his fingers drawing a gentle path behind your ear as his thumb aligns with your jaw. 
“Hey, don’t cry.” 
You shake your head. “No, I’m not.”
“Sorry, you just looked so sad for a second.” He laughs wryly. Though you don’t feel like he’s making fun of you, he teases, “Cheer up. What have you got to be so sad about?” 
“You keep harassing me.” 
“Oh, that’s how it is!” He tips his head back. “Nurse! I’d like to report a thief!” 
You gasp, laugh, and attempt to cover his mouth as strikes of pain nibble up your spine. “Steve, don’t–” He catches your hands to stop you from silencing him, but he doesn’t shout again, holding your hands together in his lap, smiling smugly and affectionately at once. He has nice eyes that are almost almond in shape and a lovely light brown. They glow in the slither of light that sneaks its way through the blinds, raw amber, stomach-achingly pretty. 
You can’t look at him for too long. You defer to your hands scrunched up in the sheets instead. 
“I did pay for the donuts, by the way. I’m just messing with you.” 
You try to laugh. “Why doesn't that surprise me?” 
“You act like I’m such a jerk,” he says fondly, pulling you in for a cautious hug. He’s tender when he needs to be, you’d never have thought it of him, how sweetly and softly he rubs your back, how he murmurs near your ear. “Do you need more meds? I’m sure they can get you another dose of the good stuff if you pretend your gummy arm is aching.” 
“Thanks, Steve, but I’m fine.” 
He hums. “Think I can get them to let me stay the night?” 
“Steve, I’m really okay.” 
“It’s not about you, I just don’t wanna go home,” he lies poorly, “they don’t have donuts at home–”
His hand leaves your back. “Are you eating over my shoulder?” you ask. 
He hugs you tighter with the remaining arm. “What? No.” 
You feel sprinkles falling down your back and ignore it for now. He’ll have to help you out of bed in a few minutes anyways. He can sort it out then. For now, you lean into his chest and close your eyes tight. 
“I’ll sleep better in the chair by your bed,” he promises. 
946 notes · View notes