᪥ 𝐃𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 ᪥
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🧸 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 - Steve Harrington x Fem!Hargrove!Reader
🧸 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 - 11.1k (my longest oneshot yet!)
🧸 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 - 18+, minors DNI, handjob (M receiving), bloody noses, dizziness, Starcourt Massacre, referenced murder, for spoiler reasons I can’t say much else. (I wrote soemthing similar for a different fandom before but it didn’t work so here’s the new and improved version
🧸 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 - For my beloved Ana, @thisishellfire, who is so sweet and so lovely and just the best in all aspects. I love you with all my heart, mi amor, and I really hope you enjoy this. Also this wouldn’t be my writing without a million plot points that don’t make any sense lmfao. I spent weeks on this just to make this perfect for you. I hope this doesn’t flop :(
🧸 Formatting is weird so if there’s a duplicate paragraph I’m sorry. I’ll put it on my AO3 also.
🧸 I listened to levitating by Dula Peep and DaBaby so here we are I guess
🧸 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 - You and Steve Harrington hated each other, everyone in Hawkins knew that. But March 21st 1986 changed everything forever.
🧸 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 - @thisishellfire @steveslittlesunflower @myobmaya @quickiesgirl @wzrlds @friendly-neighborhood-ghoul @gods-favorite-asthmatic @taecube @eddiebillysteve @hellfirehaley 🤍
MARCH 21ST 1986
Spring: that time of year when sunnies would start to get placed on the bridges of noses. When pretty daisy chains would be made. When animals would finally come out of their winter-long hibernation, and when picnic dates at the local park would become all the rage once again. The start of a new season and time to put away those big, fluffy winter sweaters, gloves and fuzzy hats. And for Hawkins, the countdown to the annual championship game.
Sunflowers had begun to grow, turning to face each other to stay alive when the sun was hidden by those big fluffy clouds full of angel tears. Sitting on a soft blanket on the lawn in a sundress, the scent of freshly cut grass wafting in the air and filling your nose, wind fluttering through your hair.
Sunflowers had begun to grow, turning to face each other to stay alive when the sun was hidden by those big fluffy clouds full of angel tears. Sitting on a soft blanket on the lawn in a sundress, the scent of freshly cut grass wafting in the air and filling your nose, wind fluttering through your hair.
Sunflowers had begun to grow, turning to face each other to stay alive when the sun was hidden by those big fluffy clouds full of angel tears. Sitting on a soft blanket on the lawn in a sundress, the scent of freshly cut grass wafting in the air and filling your nose, wind fluttering through your hair.
It was the day before the championship game and you were sitting cross-legged on a mustard-coloured blanket that complimented the green grass beneath it, weaving the stems of some daisies together to create a little chain. To calm his nerves, your little step-sister’s friend, Dustin Henderson, joined you; he was going to be singing the National Anthem tomorrow at the game since Tammy couldn’t make it, his fingers shaking as he slowly weaved the stems together.
It was the day before the championship game and you were sitting cross-legged on a mustard-coloured blanket that complimented the green grass beneath it, weaving the stems of some daisies together to create a little chain. To calm his nerves, your little step-sister’s friend, Dustin Henderson, joined you; he was going to be singing the National Anthem tomorrow at the game since Tammy couldn’t make it, his fingers shaking as he slowly weaved the stems together.
“You listen to Metallica?” he asked, a crack in his voice, sighing as he sadly watched the daisy chain fall apart in his hands.
“I had to put up with it for twelve years, Dus,” you chuckled under your breath, tones of bittersweet misery laced within your words. “It was always blaring in his room, especially during his workout sessions. Couldn’t get him to turn it down.”
Daisy chains: your way of distracting yourself from the undeniable pain you felt ever since July 4th, driving like lightning to the mall to pick up your sobbing step-sister, trying to calm her down until you saw whose body was lying dead on the mall’s floor. And you held him. God, you held onto him for dear life, not caring about the blood soaking into your clothes and your skin. You just needed one more moment with your brother, and that was taken away from you by whatever stabbed him in the chest.
Some people are worth dying for, and you would have taken that bullet for him should you have known his untimely death would occur so soon. …And you didn’t even get to say goodbye.
You sniffed harshly through your nose, which had a small amount of blood leaking out and onto your top lip, looking away for a few moments so Dustin couldn't see the glistening tears in your eyes or the glistening blood on your face, staining your skin. You quietly excused yourself to go and get some water from inside the Mayfield’s trailer, running the faucet, splashing your blood-and-tear-stained, blotchy face with the cold water. Refreshing. But still not enough.
With a sigh under your breath, you returned to the blanket, sitting down cross-legged next to Dustin.
“Hey, um… I know you probably don’t wanna hear this right now, but I'm still so sorry about Billy. We- we tried to help him.” The glazed-over look in his eyes said it all; he truly meant it. Not many people do. Especially Steve Harrington, who, when passing you in the corridor, said under his breath that your brother deserved it.
And you resented him for it.
“Thanks, Dus. I mean, at least you mean it,” you replied, sitting in the slightly uncomfortable silence afterwards.
But soon the growing sunset helped all your troubles float away, like a feather in the sky, the red tones reflecting in your (e/c) eyes. You smiled to yourself, at peace with the tedious work you had done today with Dustin, helping him to calm down, while you had Been in overdrive since July. But you never showed it.
Dustin sighed again, bringing you back into the painful reality, tossing his chain away into the forest green grass, slowly beginning to shrivel up in the bright sunlight beating down onto the blades. You picked up the delicate ornament, collecting two more daisies from the grass. He beamed as you handed it back to him.
“Never give up, kiddo. C’mere, let me show you an easier way to weave the stems.”
Dustin beamed with glory as he watched your calculated movements carefully, examining the way you pierce a hole in the stem with your nail, weaving another stem through said hole, explaining each step slowly so he could understand the process, your touch gentle as you guided his hands gracefully.
You grinned proudly as you watched his face light up, a smile from ear to ear as he held up a completed daisy chain. He set it down carefully to the side and began making another one; two matching daisy bracelets. One bracelet for him, and one for his best friend in the whole wide world.
Steve fucking Harrington.
“There. Look, you’ve got it!” You exclaimed, raising your hand, and he immediately reciprocated your high five. “And also, just focus on something that makes you happy while you’re singing. Your mom and your friends will be so proud of you, Dus. And I’m very proud of you too.”
“Thank you, Y/N,” he replied, unable to wipe the permanent smile off his face.
And he called you by your first name. Not your surname like everybody else did. It was either Hargrove or Billy’s sister. Never Y/N.
But Dustin did.
You giggled, taking in just how happy the young man looked. After all the shit he’d been through the past three years, with Will, with Starcourt, with the girl with superpowers; El, you were surprised to see that tear-jerking smile make an appearance on his adorable face. But it did. And you’d be forever grateful for it.
As he laughed with you, you started hearing a ringing sound in your ears, like a high-pitched scream from a horror movie. You slowly reached up and held your head in your hands, Dustin immediately noticing, rushing to your side. “Y/N… are you okay?”
“I’m fine, I just need… I think I need to lie down,” you whispered, your world spinning around you as if you were standing in the centre of a carousel. “I— I think I'm gonna go back to Max’s, I'm sorry, Dus.”
Dustin contemplated letting you go home alone for a moment, and by the state you were in, he thought you could collapse at any given moment. And after Will, after what happened with Billy, with Heather, Barb, Bob, Mews, and anybody else that had perished in this town… he was on high alert at all times. He knew the monsters were still lurking beneath Hawkins, he knew El had closed the gate, but there was always the possibility of those monsters inhabiting Hawkins and its residents again.
In the overworld, this time.
This is why he asked Mike Wheeler to keep an eye on you the next day in school, along with himself, trudging through the halls in his Hellfire Club t-shirt beneath his Hawaiian shirt, his khakis and converse, and his thinking cap. With wide eyes, he noticed you walking the halls alone; it used to be with Nancy, then Tina, then Heather and now Chrissy and Bee. But neither of them were anywhere to be seen.
Yes, Dustin always kept tabs on you. Was it because of his little crush on you that he promised himself he wouldn’t admit it to anybody? No… Well, that’s what he kept telling himself. (Until Will found out, but he told nobody). He would admit to himself that he noticed Max first, the pretty redhead, and then you, but you always stuck out to him.
And he was surprised that his best friend hadn’t made a move on you yet.
So when he saw you walking alone, without anyone bothering you, he knew something was off. It looked like you’d tried to make yourself smaller as you walked, covering your hands with the sleeves of your cheer pullover, which he immediately noticed had a small blood splatter soaking into it, with a dishevelled look on your face as you left Mrs Kelly's office.
Something felt wrong.
Very wrong.
Later that day, you lay on one of the benches alone in the woods, alone with your thoughts, drifting towards your best friend, Bee’s odd relationship. Never did you think the renowned “good girl” would fall for bad boy Jace Campbell; Hawkins’ star athlete, the golden boy to the teachers, the flirt. The king, after Billy was dethroned.
And after Billy took away “King Steve”’s title in 1985.
And that asshole, Jace, had her wrapped around his pinky finger almost instantly. And you… You just never saw the appeal. You had more important things to be doing like homework and studying than going out every weekend to party.
It reminded you of a chat you had had with Max’s best friend, El, not too long ago about Jace. Since El and Bee lived together, she would see Jace often, and said she heard banging on the walls and a lot of “good screaming.” You didn’t bother asking her what a good scream was because, in your mind, you already knew.
You read your step-mom, Susan Mayfield's Cosmo magazine enough times to know exactly what “happy screams” were.
You knew they had having sex weekly, and that didn’t seem to be a problem for anyone. Well, until they broke up last week…
And then there was Chrissy. Pretty, popular, princess Chrissy. The complete opposite of Jace, yet she also had every boy in Hawkins wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger, whether she knew it or not. She had a decent family life, a handsome boyfriend who was also an athlete, she did cheerleading, and helped out at the homeless shelter….
And one boy had taken liking her to an extreme, practically obsessing over her; watching her every move, worshipping the ground she walked on, almost dying when she asked if she could buy some weed from him because he didn’t want to.
Chrissy was so sweet, even to those who wronged her. You’d never even seen her get angry, not once in your fourteen years of close-knit friendship. Tears had spilt, staining her soft skin, but never any frowns. Not even a little crease between her brows. All smiles, bright enough to blind somebody.
Maybe that was how she got all these boys to fall for her…
You clambered into your car the next morning, turning your music up extra loud, bopping your head to the beat of the mixtape Billy had jammed into the Camaro. You were forever grateful that a kind man, Eddie Munson’s uncle Wayne, offered to try to fix it for you as much as he could, and you used all your savings to do so. And it looked almost brand new.
She looked beautiful.
You smiled sweetly as Dustin and Mike hopped in the backseat, Max joining you in the front. You gripped the steering wheel so tight, that your knuckles began to turn a pale, ghostly shade, as you pressed your foot down harder on the pedal. Something about being in the car, in Billy’s soul’s presence, took a hold of you.
“Not this again,” Max grumbled. “Y/N. Slow down, seriously.”
You could barely hear her over the loud music blasting through the car, but you did, and so when you pulled into the school’s parking lot, you slowed right down.
You’d slid onto one of the metal benches in the cafeteria, coated with a thick layer of green paint topped with a varnish, taking a seat next to Bee; her entire psyche encapsulated by the artwork before her, her hands being able to create the most beautiful of masterpieces.
“You know, drawing JJ won’t make him take you back, Bumble,” you admitted, watching as her face fell, pretty eyes beginning to glaze over, her bottom lip quivering.
“I just…” she started, making you pull your eyes away from the math homework you’d forgotten to complete last night. “…don’t even know what I did wrong. Is— Am I not pretty enough for him?”
Oh, here we go again. Her fifth breakdown in the last 24 hours. Meanwhile, Jace had already started screwing another member of the cheer squad.
You breathed out a quiet sigh of relief when Chrissy slid in next to Bee on the other side of her, consoling her and calming her down. Chrissy offered a girls’ day out after the championship game and a road trip to Tennessee, and what better way to blow off some steam than to go out in a different state and dance with your best girls until sunrise?
So then it came to that night when it was meant to be an ordinary evening with your girls, Chrissy and Bee. Time had moved forward and now it was the night of the championship game; an excuse for the cheerleaders to shorten their skirts to show off their toned legs for the other boys and girls. Or just for yourself. (In Bee’s case, showing Jace everything he’d already seen, and everything he’d Been missing since he asked to go on a break.) And an excuse to conceal your obvious flirting with an oblivious Robin Buckley from the stands.
And without head cheerleader Valentina Ghen there to take the spotlight during the pep rally, you and your girls could have a good time. God, she never shut up about Chance, Billy or Jace ever. Even after Billy’s death.
She grieved more than you did.
And so you went to the game without her, peacefully. But you never thought in a million years that ‘the hair’ would be at the game, never mind Eddie fucking Munson of all people sitting next to him. Eddie Munson. At a championship game. At a “balls in laundry baskets” game. —Scowling at you with the sourest look on his face.
What the fuck was his problem? Just because you were closer with Chrissy than he was didn’t make you the spawn of Satan.
Maybe he decided to come because Dustin was the one who would be singing the national anthem, or maybe he was just bored.
But you can never be bored in Hawkins, …even though the mall burned down last year after Jim Hopper saved the kids that were inside while you took Max home. If only there was a way to get Billy back. To make a deal with God to get him back.
You didn’t care what it took.
Bee had wanted to blow off some steam before leaving to do her arts degree in England, and what better way to do so than having the best time with her friends and doing something she loved?
Not that she had to wait long to blow off that steam though, as ocean eyes had been all over her, him watching her every move, running the pad of his thumb over his plump lips. She gave him a little wave and a shy smile, and her heart almost gave in when he shot her a cheeky wink. How the fuck could one little wink turn a girl’s legs into jello?
You thought about ask Jace for some tips.
After the rally, when the game began, Jace got up to leave, signalling for Bee to follow him. And she did, following him to presumably the bleachers, their lips never leaving each other’s skin for hours. Though marks only appeared on Bee’s skin, since Jace specifically warned her not to mark him or there’d be serious consequences.
And she left you and Chrissy on your own. Just great!
Seven minutes to catch somebody’s eye; not your personal best but it would have to do for the moment. As you listened to Henderson belting his heart out, you felt proud. Being Max’s step-sister meant that you hung around the younger kids a lot, taking them under your wing; especially Will. After what had happened to him happened, you never wanted him out of your sight again. That was until he moved to California with his mom and Jonathan (leaving El here in Hawkins with Bee.). Lenora Hills, where you used to live before moving to Hawkins.
You’d talked to Mrs Byers about her moving, recommending Lenora Hills, as they had a lovely high school that Will and Jonathan would love, and the pizza there was amazing.
You missed Argyle with all of your heart and wanted him to have some friends again.
You snapped out of your thoughts, looking over at Chrissy, who instead of looking at Jason, had been ogling some other guy for the last ten minutes. The direction of her eyes had been perfectly in line with—
“Munson? Seriously, Chris?” You whisper-shouted, pulling her out of her trance.
“What? He's nice to me!”
You rolled your eyes, turning back to the game just in time to see your “child” score a basket. You jumped to your feet, whooping and cheering for him, and he shot you a winning smile.
“Go, Sinclair!” You screamed, waving your cheer pom poms around.
You scanned the gymnasium after that: Bee was still nowhere to be seen; more than likely getting — unfortunately — dicked down by “Jacey-Wacey” in the backseat of his car. But you took another look in the direction Chrissy was gawking and saw the two other men talking quietly.
The men in question, Steve and Eddie, both got up to leave, and Chrissy shot up out of her seat, immediately on their tail, dragging you with her to the sound of your loud protests.
You’d ended up at a diner across town in a booth on the complete opposite end of the two boys on that chilly Friday evening.
The waitress, who’d barely taken her eyes off you since you sat down, nodded towards your empty strawberry milkshake with her eyebrows slightly raised. You shook your head with a forced smile, declining her wordless offer for another.
You turned to look back at the boys; Eddie with a toothpick between his plump lips, playing with his silver metal rings as he spoke, Steve running his stupid fingers through his stupid fucking hair that fell beautifully onto his stupid fucking face no matter what he was doing.
That fucking handsome face of his would be enough to cause hundreds of weak knees; the kind of look that got him whatever the hell he wanted, or rather, whatever his friends wanted with only a few questions and heartstopping smiles besides “yours or mine?”
You didn’t bother hiding the sour look on your face until Chrissy nudged your shoulder with hers.
“God, babe. Chill with the “fuck me” eyes,” she chuckled.
“I'm not doing that, Chris.”
“You are, ba—“ she began to say but was cut off by the Dungeon Master reaching the table, immediately sliding in to sit next to Chrissy, who blushed the same colour as her earrings. Hot pink. His long legs almost touched yours under the table, and thank goodness they didn’t. You didn’t want his muddy reebok’s ruining your fresh pair of all-white converse with a green trim to match your cheer uniform.
You internally rolled your eyes, as Chrissy was known to be a sucker for tall men with long… limbs.
“Hargrove, Chrissy.” He flicked the toothpick onto the table
“Munson,” you replied with a salute.
“Hey Eds,” Chrissy replied, blushing again.
Another problem for the evening.
Just fucking great.
“Mind if I sit?” Steve had finally approached the table, standing on the side of the booth with a free seat, asking you in the softest voice you'd ever heard.
Fuck you, Harrington.
“If you must,” you sighed, glaring daggers at Eddie, who’d taken the seat next to Chrissy.
Of course he’d get Steve to sit next to you. After what he did to your brother you vowed to never even look at him ever again. but that didn’t last long as Eddie’s plan kicked into gear; get Steve a girlfriend before he goes off to college. Simple enough, right?
Wrong.
You mentally kicked yourself off the Empire State Building for not sitting next to Chrissy yourself. Steve’s smile faltered for a second. blink and you’ll miss it.
“Oh,” he muttered, his eyes darting to Eddie who was busy whispering God knows what into a giggling Chrissy’s ear. “Eddie’s already sitting down so…”
“Oh goodness me, I hadn't even noticed he was there!” Your fake smile morphed into a smirk, your gaze finally meeting his deep, dark chocolate button eyes. Fuck him for being… so damn attractive—
No. Snap out of it.
He began fidgeting with the cuff on one of the sleeves of his mustard-coloured sweater, his weight shifting from one foot to the other and back again. “So, can I?”
“I don’t know,” you said, an amused grin playing on your lips. “Can you?”
“For fuck sake,” he muttered. “May I?”
I don’t know… may you?
A slight pout plumped up on your lips as you nodded to the space beside you, sliding over to rest your shoulder against the tiled wall, now sitting directly opposite Chrissy.
But you and Steve, surprisingly, had one thing in common; both of your nights were destined to be ruined by two things, namely Chrissy Cunningham and Eddie Munson running off like teenagers without waiting for you.
You immediately felt his presence beside you, and for God’s sake, of course, he was even more attractive up close.
It took a lot of restraint to not reach out and touch him, to smell the cologne that had seeped into the collar and cuffs of his mustard-coloured sweater, the same colour as your favourite blanket. So you kept your hand clasped around your second strawberry milkshake instead of grazing your fingertips against his jean-clad thigh under the table—
“Do you want me to get you a napkin, Y/N? Your nose is bleeding,” Eddie asked, dashing away from the table for a moment before returning with a serviette, handing it to you so you could pat away the blood staining your skin and upper lip.
You sighed; today was day five of your nosebleeds, your migraines, the nightmares that were worse than they used to be… You pushed that to the back of your mind, however, focussing on the red and white checkered pattern on the diner’s floor.
And Chrissy didn't even ask if you were okay.
Great fucking ‘friend’ she was.
Steve was probably your only option for any sort of relationship, like, ever, though there was absolutely nothing wrong with teasing and having a bit of fun before doing anything stupid. Even if you hadn’t been charmed by him from the get-go, you loved playing this game, with a 99% win rate in favour of you.
God, you wished you couldn’t feel his intense gaze set on you, each sideways glance lasting longer than the one before, something shooting an electric shock through both of your bodies at the same time. But you would rather gauge your eyes with a used fork than admit that to anyone. Even your best friends. Even Max.
Steve’s warm thigh pressed against yours, the fabric of his jeans brushing and pressing against your bare skin. It was as if he knew what you were doing and began to challenge your willpower.
So really, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you were going to tease the absolute shit out of him.
He snook another glance at you just as you so happened to throw your head back to get the last of the shake out of the glass, exposing your neck as Chrissy was busy ordering a glass of Coca-Cola for everyone through Eddie’s loud protests.
And another glance, with you taking this opportunity to spread your legs before crossing one over the other, brushing your heel against his leg. His big brown eyes widened even more, his breath stuttering slightly, trying to cover it up with the fakest, most awkward cough you'd ever had to experience hearing.
“Need some water, Stevie?” you purred, running your nails down his arm, watching with a smug grin on your face as goosebumps began to appear. God, this asshole almost made this too easy for you. “Chrissy and I can get it for you if you want it.”
Steve nodded, afraid his words might betray him if he spoke, sliding out from the booth to let you out. There was a loud bang on the table as his balled fist made contact with the surface, making Eddie let out a “Jesus Christ, man.”
You spun around on your heel, watching as his jaw clenched in frustration. Sure, this was probably meant as a threat, but you only felt embarrassed for him, making a scene like that for no reason. You weren’t going to make tonight easy for him at all.
Leaning over, you brushed your lips against the shell of his ear, making the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. “You’re lucky I even offered, Stevie.”
His neck flushed a furious crimson, the sound of your voice creeping down his spine and through his veins. You could swear you heard a nervous laugh escape his lips, but within a flash, his brows furrowed into a slight frown.
Before he could say something you hurried away to the counter, ordering a glass of water for him. Chrissy was still fully engaged in conversation with Eddie, so you went up alone. as your feet carried you over, you couldn’t help but sneak another glance at him, running your eyes over his defined jawline and the bridge of his nose, admiring his beautiful face.
Again, fuck you for being so beautiful, Steve.
You paid for the water quickly, then made your way back over to the table, not waiting for Steve to move, slipping yourself over his legs, sitting on his lap for maybe a second too long. You checked his facial expression, and he had a peachy blush painted across those defined cheeks.
“Not used to all this attention, hm, Stevie?” you whispered, giggling to yourself as he shifted in his seat. But you were nowhere near done with the teasing just yet. “Especially from a big bad Hargrove, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“Or what?” you challenged, smirking at the way his brows furrowed, turning his attention back to Eddie and Chrissy. “No answer? Poor baby can’t even speak.”
When Eddie finally pulled away from whispering in Chrissy’s ear and turned his attention to you, you were finally able to take in all of the contours of his face that made him. His long, fluttery eyelashes, his wild mane of dark brown hair, the lipstick kiss tattoo on his neck…
“Hey?” Eddie snapped his ring-clad fingers in front of your face, smiling when you snapped back to reality. “Thought you’d fallen asleep, sweetheart.”
You turned your attention back to Chrissy, who had been looking at you with a questioning glance. “Hm? Oh, sorry. I couldn’t hear you.”
Thanks for that, Steve.
0 - 1 to Harrington.
“Eds said he’ll get us some fries and a burger if we want it.”
“You doll,” you cooed, and Eddie beamed proudly, snaking an arm around Chrissy’s shoulders, and she slowly leaned into his soft touch. “Thank you, Eddie.”
You mirrored his bright grin as Steve tensed beside you. “I'll go with you.”
Steve stood to his feet abruptly, staring down at you for what felt like an eternity with a look that said he knew exactly what game you were playing; sweet to everyone else, reserving your salt just for him. Seemed like you didn’t impress him too much either.
Yeah, next to him in your cheer uniform that you purposely shortened the skirt off, exposing your thighs and a small curve of your ass after you were out of your mom’s sight should have had him on his knees worshipping the ground you walked on. But it didn’t.
Well, that’s what he was trying to convince himself.
Not that you cared. All you bothered to offer in return was a slow smirk. Game on, Harrington. Game fucking on.
Chrissy slid into the seat next to you where Steve had been hyperventilating as the two boys walked away, taking a strand of your hair and twirling it around her finger as she spoke.
“Soooo,” she sang. “What do you think of Steve? Such a cutie, right?”
He had a part in my brother’s death, Chris.
Yes, of course, he's the hottest, most lovely guy on planet earth.
“Why do I need to care about him when all that’s gonna happen is you’re going to fuck his friend? And didn’t you forget he had a part in Billy’s death and nobody else thinks it was him?!” You snapped.
“I’m not—” Chrissy began to say before she stopped herself, pursing her lips, chewing her thoughts over and over again. “Okay. Correction; maybe I want to, but—”
“Whatever. I bet you’ll have a great time with him anyway regardless of what I do or don’t say.”
Chrissy clicked her tongue, swirling her straw around in her glass of coca-cola. “I guess…”
“Meanwhile you’re over here whipped by Eddie the freak Munson.”
“I’m not whipped!” She defended. “I'm just… curious!”
“About what? How easy it’ll be to get in his pants?” you asked, deadpan, and her eyes widened. “You know he’s, like, so obsessed with you.”
“Jesus, Y/N!” she shrieked, covering her face in her hands.
You rolled your eyes. “Anyway, I don't like Steve at all.”
“Is there any reason?”
Bitch, you better be joking.
“Uh… no.” Oh yes. Yes, there was. “Not at all. He’s just not my cup of tea, that’s all.”
“Wouldn’t you want a rich man, though? I heard he’s loaded.”
“I am a rich man, Christina.” You said, rolling your eyes. “Also I'm extremely good-looking and talented on my own. I don't need a man to bring me down. I am perfectly fine on my own.”
“Okay, fine!” She threw her hands up and surrendered. “Just… be nice at least.”
“Why? Planning on keeping Deddie Van Halen around for a while?”
“Um… maybe. but don’t call him that. He’s not dead!”
“Ugh, you’re so boring, Chris!”
“You know what isn’t boring?” She asked, a little smirk playing on her lips.
Oh no.
“What, Chris?” you sighed, not expecting what she had to say next.
“Steeeeeve Haaaaarrington,” she teased, kicking you playfully under the booth’s table, making you almost choke on your drink.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me…” you muttered under your breath, glancing over at the two boys, smiling as you noticed ‘King Steve’ flirting with the cashier. hopefully, that would mean he’d leave you alone for the night.
“No time for whining. They’re back!” Chrissy moved back to her seat as Eddie sauntered back to your table, a huge grin spreading across his face as he slid up next to Chrissy. With nothing of the same enthusiasm, Steve stood awkwardly next to the table, refusing to meet your eye as he handed out the glasses of cola.
“God, man. This isn’t like you! If we were anywhere else you’d be all over Hargrove right now.”
“No, I wouldn’t be! And I’m gonna pretend like you never said that.” You didn’t know his jaw could clench even more, but it was, and it did.
As Steve reluctantly slid back in next to you, you and Chrissy moved in to clink your glasses together. You winked at her; it was finally time for step two of the plan you cooked up on the spot five minutes ago. A well-rehearsed technique that worked on every man, and every woman that was present when you both tried it.
You would both lean across the table, nearly touching each other. Then you would clink glasses together, with Chrissy using a bit too much force; sending the drink spilling over the rim of the glass, which would spill out onto your chest. She would then lick it off with an, “whoops, sorry angel!” and an innocent smile.
And it worked every single goddamn time.
Only this time, blood had also dripped down onto your chest. Another nosebleed already? You grabbed a serviette and patted your nose dry as Chrissy’s tongue ran along the plains of your skin, collecting your spilt drink, with Eddie and Steve shifting in their seats, trying to appear unbothered. A sentence or two muttered from Steve about how the diner suddenly got too hot to handle.
Though he smirked to himself as he rolled the sleeves of his mustard-coloured sweater to his elbows, a sheen of sweat covering an array of colourful inked drawings on his arms—the sight of which sent a bolt of heat straight to your stomach, and other places. Suck a sucker for tattoos.
“Like whatcha see, princess?” He asked, turning to look at you for the first time in about… thirty seconds.
“Now there’s the Steve Harrington I know,” Eddie laughed. “Warming up to Hargrove, huh?” He teased, making Steve frown.
He rolled his eyes. “Maybe.” The amount of sarcasm dripping from that one word was enough to fill a highschool swimming pool and a deep one at that. “Jury’s still out.”
“Your arms look like a high school bathroom stall, Steve. Full of meaningless drawings and words. So…no. I’m afraid I don’t like what I see.”
“You’re annoying me, Y/N.”
“I don’t recall asking for your opinion of me, Steve.”
He rolled his eyes. “Consider that first one free.”
“Well I don’t plan on paying for another, so I guess you’ll have to sit there like a good boy for me and keep your thoughts to yourself.”
He choked on his drink, beginning to cough loudly in a way that has Eddie and Chrissy almost falling off their seats in giggles.
“You good, man?” Eddie asked.
“I’m fine,” Steve snapped, turning away from the group slightly.
The rest of the night consisted of you and Chrissy dancing to Kate Bush and Madonna, Eddie watching with heart-eyes, and Steve pretending like he wasn’t watching. Chrissy’s eyes lit up animatedly as Eddie took her hand, twirling her around.
You took a step back, looking at Steve who was still seated, tapping his foot in time with the music. “You really wanna get up and dance, don’t you, Stevie?”
“In your dreams.” He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide the small smile that had started to crawl onto his features. A smile that could steal a million hearts.
But not yours. No. You wouldn’t let him do that.
“Dance with me, Stevie.” You couldn’t believe you just asked Steve ‘King Steve’ ‘The Hair’ Harrington to dance with you, and you almost gagged at your own words. You tried pulling on his arm to get him to stand up, and when you did, he just stood there in silence.
“I’ll dance, but not with you.”
“Aww, why not?” You pouted teasingly, tightening your already strong grip on his wrists. “Too embarrassed?”
“No,” he mumbled. “I just don’t like you.”
You rolled your eyes, letting go of his arm, heading back to the middle of the diner on your own where the other people in the bar were up on their feet dancing along to the beat.
Steve slowly got to his feet, clicking his fingers with each step he took, along with the beat of the song, soon dancing with Chrissy. He spun her around and exaggerated his dance moves while making eye contact with you.
If this was a tactic to make you jealous, it wasn’t working. Instead, you pulled on Eddie’s arm and proceeded to dance with him instead. Close enough to irritate the hell out of Steve, but far enough away to keep Chrissy from pulling all of your hair out. You danced with Eddie for a while before spinning away from each other to dance with other people, with your body slamming into a loudly giggling Chrissy.
“This is so fun, right?”
“Totally! And you— you’ve got a great… dancer… on your… hands, Chris.” You nudged her, giggling, and she smiled back at you, but it never reached her eyes as she watched more and more blood pouring from your nose.
“I think you need to sit down, Y/N. I’ll get you some painkillers,” she said, ushering you back to your booth.
“N- no I don’t. I’m fine…”
Eddie seemed to notice right away, kneeling on his haunches next to Chrissy, barely able to see him in your now dazed state. “Look at me, sweetheart. How many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, holding up two fingers, holding the palm of his hand to your head to check your body temperature. You were freezing cold.
“Uh… Um… Four?” You squeaked, reaching out for Chrissy’s hands. “Stay with me.”
“Should we… Steve!” Eddie called as loud as he could, alerting everyone in the diner, but you were too dazed and confused to even care.
Dizzy at the sight of the room spinning around you, the music distorting, the sound of a clock you didn’t even know was in the diner chiming thrice. And then… nothing.
You opened your eyes wide, gasping in shock at who had replaced Eddie in front of you. It was Steve.
“Murderer.” He leaned in, whispering in your ear. “You killed your brother and you’re trying to cover up your guilt by saying it was me. I know your plan, Y/N. Trying to seduce me, to get me to be yours, all so you can walk away scot free. Is that right?
“What? No. That’s not true, Steve! I- Even though I hate you I’d never do that to you!”
“What? I asked you if you’re alright, you idiot,” he laughed, caressing your cheek softly.
What the fuck happened in the last five minutes?
“I’m fine. Get away from me,” you said, pushing him away from you so you could stand up and head to the bathroom, while the others shrugged and went back to dancing.
Eddie was now dancing on his own, patting Steve on the back as they both spun away from each other. Another girl in the diner pulled on Steve’s arm, bringing him to the middle of the room, and everybody began singing together. Miraculously, the smile finally broke on his face and he began dancing with a bit more spirit.
His expression softened, no longer tense, and he seemed to be enjoying himself a lot more when he wasn’t in the same room as you.
Moments later, Chrissy, Eddie and Steve all fell back into the booth, laughing and joking, slick with sweat. It seemed Steve had finally loosened up a bit, maybe that was just the way he got around strangers. Until you joined them back at the booth.
And nobody spoke a word about your dizzy state again. Maybe to take your mind off it, which didn’t work.
“That was the most fun I have had in a long time!” Chrissy squealed, hugging Eddie’s arm, while Y/N and Steve sat in slightly uncomfortable silence.
“I guess…”
“Oh, don’t act like you weren’t having the best time ever up there, Stevie!”
“Everybody’s calling me that now, huh?” Steve frowned, but quickly his expression softened and he laughed. “It’s fine. I don’t mind nicknames!”
“Good, because we’re not going to stop, right Eddie Bear?” Chrissy said, caressing the side of his face and snuggling into him.
“You two seem cosy already,” you chimed in.
“And you two look colder than popsicles in winter. Come on, guys, you could cut the tension with a knife!”
“Haha yeah, the sexual tension!” Eddie added. God, it was disgusting how in sync and lovey dovey they were being.
You and Steve rolled your eyes simultaneously. It was going to be hard to keep a conversation at this rate, but Chrissy was willing to try. “So, Steve. What do you do in your spare time?” She offered the man a sweet smile.
“Yeah, Stevie,” Eddie asked, wiggling his eyebrows. “What do you do?”
Y/N tried hard to mask the laughter that managed to escape her with a cough, which only worsened when Steve said, “I like to golf,” at the same time Eddie shouted, “He hits balls with his stick!”
“Golf? Seems… posh. But in a good way!” You knew exactly what she was doing. Still on her mission to get you to give him a chance. “What else are you into?”
“I know what he’s into.”
“Eddie, don’t—”
“Why does everything have to be about King Steve anyway? Why can’t Eddie have a go at speaking?!”
Y/N snorted from next to him, covering her mouth.
“What?”
“Sorry! Who talks about themselves in the third person?”
“Eddie when he’s drunk and me when I’m high,” Steve said, deadpanned. “It’s a long story.”
“You’re drunk, Eds?”
“No. And that flask of vodka outside isn’t mine,” he said, laughing as he wrapped his arms tighter around Chrissy’s shoulders.
“Whatever,” he added, then he turned to Chrissy with the biggest grin on his face you’d seen thus far. “Wanna have sex in my trailer?” Despite the horrified looks on both Chrissy’s and Steve’s faces, you had to respect Eddie’s boldness.
“Wow, so charming, Eddie.” You smirked. “I won’t scare you by sharing a bed with you but I’ll fuck your brains out the next morning.”
Chrissy covered her mouth with her hands, completely and utterly gobsmacked. “I…um…” she took her hands away and looked at you. You just shrugged.
“It’s whatever. Go ahead, I’ll find a way home. Have fun, you two.”
Eddie rummaged through his pockets and retrieved some change and notes, tossing them in Steve’s direction. He grabbed Chrissy’s hand and they both left the diner hand in hand.
The presence beside you felt almost overwhelming once you were alone with Steve, still sitting on the same side of the table, too close for comfort. You could feel the stolen glances, and felt his eyes on you, his gaze heavy. Heavier, heavier… More intense by the minute.
“Why not take a picture? It’ll last longer,” you chuckled, “accidentally” rubbing your foot along his calf again, smirking at the low groan escaping his plump lips.
“I guess that’s my cue to leave as well…” It was as closed-off and uninviting as you could make it, yet Steve stayed frozen in place, unable to move aside to let you out of the booth.
“Well? You’re gonna let me out or do I have to sit on your lap again to get out?”
He cleared his throat as he shuffled into the aisle to his left to let you out. “Oh right, yeah. Do you, um, need a ride home?”
You smiled sweetly, tracing your slender finger along his jawline, the pad of your fingertip brushing against his soft, freshly shaven skin. His dark brown eyes fluttered closed at your touch. Your lips moved back up to the shell of his ear, burning his skin.
“No. But thank you for the offer.”
Lies. You’d rather gauge your eyes out than admit that you wanted him to take you home. To take care of you...
Instinctively, Steve wrapped his fingers around your wrist, keeping you close to his side. “An alternative would be giving me your phone number and letting me know you get home safe.”
Steve let your hand go to wrap his arm around your shoulders as he noticed a group of jocks entering the diner, and he felt weirdly protective over you.
Did he want you all to himself? Yes. Would he ever admit that to anyone? No. Imagine everyone’s faces if they saw Harrington dating Hargrove. Even associating himself with you, the sister of the boy who beat him in every fight they got in together.
“That sounds a lot like an order, Stevie,” you mused. “So, what would happen if I took your number, promised to call and never did? What would you do? Punish me?” You leaned in, to the shell of his ear again, hot breath ghosting his skin, prickling goosebumps in its wake. “I bet you would love to bend me over your knees, Stevie. Am I correct? Or would you prefer me to do the spanking?”
He barked a laugh. “As if!”
Yes. Yes, he would.
Something dark flashed in his eyes, a glimpse at who he truly was, perhaps. Confident and dominant, and very comfortable playing this game with you. He placed his hand firmly on the small of your back as he helped you out of the booth, trying to play off grabbing your thigh as helping you.
“Something tells me you wouldn’t smack my ass in front of people,” you whispered, your hot breath now ghosting his lips as you run your fingers along the collar of his sweater, gripping the fabric, tugging him closer to you. “Or maybe you’d like to do… something else to me in public.”
“Something else? Didn’t take you as the shy type, princess.”
Steve watched as you boy down on your lip, your tongue running over the bite to ease the sting. “Like your girls with a filthy mouth, do you?”
He offered you a grin, walking you back so your lower back was pressed against the part of the wall where two booths met. “And if I say yes?”
You chuckled softly, moving your hand up to caress the side of his pretty face with your knuckles, daringly pressing a kiss to his soft, plump lips. After one peck, you were addicted. You wanted to get drunk on his scent, on the way his lips moulded perfectly with yours, on the way his body felt like the perfect half of a jigsaw to complete your puzzle.
“Then I’ll ask you to kindly remove your fingers from my wrist and your hand from my back before I knock you out. And go splash some water on that gorgeous face of yours. You look all hot and bothered, Stevie. What happened?” You asked innocently, delicately extracting yourself from his grip.
“It’s from all the, uh, the dancing! It’s from all the dancing and the heat in here.” He pulled at the neck of his sweater, exposing a sliver of his collarbone to you. “And please stop calling me Stevie, angel. It’s making me—”
“You look like you’re about two seconds from creaming your pants, Harrington, and not even I hate you enough to let you embarrass yourself like that.”
“Y- you don’t like me?” He asked. “Don’t you think that’s harsh? You barely know me.”
“Were you that delusional to think that this was something more? Wow, Stevie.” When he didn’t answer, you winked and turned on your heel away from him. “Maybe you can think about me when you’re jerking off later,” you called over your shoulder, before exiting the diner.
And if he spent the rest of the evening doing just that, well, that’s none of your business.
But yes, Steve spent the next seven days doing exactly that. Your touch seared into his mind; the pressure of your fingertips tracing along his jaw, up and down his sides, the way his body reacted to you, obvious desperation even before he’d let it get this bad. Your sweet, innocent nature as he watched you dance with Eddie and Chrissy last Friday in the diner.
The urge was slowly growing out of control, and he told himself each morning that today he’d call you to ask you out. And that had been your play the night at the diner. As you promised you took his number, but never called, instead choosing to tease him whenever you saw him. Whether that would be from parading around in your short skirt, bending over purposely, always having a lollipop between your lips whenever you would enter Family Video…
It was killing him.
The first polaroid he saw of you was a photo of you fresh out of a hot shower, hair wet and droplets trickling down your chest, a white, almost transparent bathrobe barely hanging from your shoulders and the photo taken in the mirror. Placed under a VHS tape in Family Video just for Steve to see.
Written on the back of it in pretty writing was;
I made it home safely. And since you’ll be alone soon, have fun touching yourself. Or don’t. You’ll never see me again if you do x
Empty threat, he thought.
He’d barely been in bed five minutes when he got home that day before his jeans and boxers were pushed halfway down his thighs. It had become a routine for him after a long day at work thinking about you; he’d come home to an empty house due to his parent's absence and think about you some more. Imagining you in a million and one positions, and on your knees. Anything to get him off.
Instead of calling, Steve would fall into his bed at the end of the day and let you take over his thoughts for the rest of the night, the morning after, and all through that day—and so on.
Forever.
It was starting to annoy him how much you were taking over his mind and couldn’t go an hour without thinking about you. You. Y/N Hargrove.
He couldn’t concentrate at work, constantly messing up tapes and the order they would be stacked in, daydreaming about you. It was beginning to cause problems.
God, Steve had started to get greedy—always wanting more, imagining more, and it never took long. A vague memory of the musky perfume you wore last Friday, the way the scent imprinted into his clothes (which he would never wash again if that meant keeping a part of you with him), his skin… The haughty look on your face as you studied his blank expressions, trying to decide if you wanted to worship him or ruin him. And that drove him crazy.
Somehow he’d managed to become enticed by the one woman in Hawkins who found his charm repulsive and off-putting. And it wasn’t like he could even suffer in silence either. Eddie had caught on quickly, two days after bumping into you and Chrissy at the diner in fact, because Steve didn’t have much time or desire to go out. And now, suddenly he did. He’d been able to fumble for some sort of excuse, something about working late at the video store and having to take care of Dustin, El, Mike and Lucas—because he couldn’t exactly tell Eddie he couldn’t stop jerking off over a woman who wanted nothing to do with him and still be able to look his friend in the eye afterwards.
Their friendship didn’t have many limits, but that was most certainly one of them.
Part of Steve wanted you to know how you made him feel, wanted you to see how undone he became just at the thought of you. He almost wanted you to humiliate him for what he was doing, and his hips and breath shuddered one last time at the thought.
He was so tired of this constant need for you, his wanting, and the fact that you were so cocky to him in the diner, yet sweet to everyone else.
And he wanted to know why. Why were you treating him like this?
He begged his brain to just figure it all out and get it together long enough to just call you and ask you on a date. If he got rejected, well, at least he would have some closure. And he would finally be able to go more than two seconds without thinking about you, about how you had turned him into a writhing, horny mess.
After he called you, he answered the door to see you already standing there in a velvety red dress and some killer heels. You took his hand and brought him into the first room you saw; the guest bedroom on the first floor.
You took a hold of his neck, wrapping your fingers around it and pulling him closer to you, your other hand on the small of his back as you kicked the door shut.
You broke the kiss, planting your hands on his chest, and walking him backwards against the wall. You were a sight for sore eyes before him; your champagne-coloured satin lingerie set that had been hiding underneath your red dress leaving nothing to the imagination. Besides the mountain of unholy thoughts racing through his mind. Steve’s fingers twitched at his sides, itching to reach out and grab hold of your luscious hips.
You took a step backwards, just out of his reach. “You’re a very naughty boy, aren’t you, Stevie?” You teased, taking him in. “Can’t keep those hands of yours to yourself, can you, big boy?”
Lighting himself on fire would be like an ice bath right now, he thought. His blood burned his veins, thick with such a heavy, lustful desire that consumed him, the act of respiration becoming increasingly more difficult for him as you run your fingernails down his torso, leaving bright marks in their wake. He concentrated on his breathing for a few moments as your voice, the scent of your perfume filled every inch of his being, echoing all around him.
His breath began to still after a while, though he could still feel a burning sensation in the pit of his stomach as your fingers brushed over his skin, the bright sunlight dancing in your hair.
His breath faltered as he gasped, still fully clothed yet completely unravelled; so hard it was painful. He just needed you to keep talking to him, needed you to touch him, needed you to-
“Y/N, please,” he groaned, his hips betraying him as they bucked up against nothing. “Please, baby.”
“Please, what? Words, Stevie. I need words.”
“I— Mmm, fuck Y/N. Please um…”
He watched with wide eyes as a slow, sultry smile appeared on your lips. “Didn’t take you for the shy type, Harrington.”
Steve whines again at his words being parroted back to him, almost verbatim.
“I’m not!”
“And now?” You asked. “Would you beg for it? Would you beg for me?”
“Yes,” he breathed out, no hesitation. “Whatever you want.”
You slowly raised one of your eyebrows. “Are you sure it’s a good idea to give someone that kind of power over you? You never know what they might do with it, sweetheart.”
Words came tumbling out of his mouth before he could reconsider or even register what he was saying. “No one has complete power over me.”
And then he immediately knew he was fucked, knew it, even more, when that sultry smile stretches further across your face. You were so composed, just standing there in front of him like a Greek Goddess as if he wouldn’t drop to his knees and do whatever you asked of him; as if you had all the time in the world and this was just a minor inconvenience for you. As if you weren’t taking him apart by the seams, popping each stitch out one by one and letting him hang in a free fall.
Beating him at his own game. Yet again.
He was now 1 for 2. With you winning.
“Is that so?” You took one step closer, studying his movements. Every breath, every twitch of his body under your stare, saw the way his eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. Every intake of breath was almost a plea. “Should we put those words to the test?”
You dropped to your knees, still too far out of reach, your tongue rolling across your lips just enough to state your intent and get a rise out of him. “What do you want, Steven?”
His heart jolted at the use of his full name, the sound obscene in your mouth. “I—”
His brain and his body were at war, too much information to process that he couldn’t find the words, and couldn’t formulate a single coherent thought. “Y/N, I—”
“Surely someone so in control could use their words, hm Stevie?” He was fucking ruined. “I’m on my knees in front of you and you can’t think of a single thing you’d like me to do?”
“I want your mouth,” he breathed.
“That’s not very specific, honey. There are lots of things my mouth can do.”
“Yeah, like chatting a lot of shit,” he scoffed.
“Yes, but that’s nowhere near as fun as the other things it can do,” you huffed a laugh as you moved close enough to drag your freshly manicured fingernails down his thighs. “Pants off, now.”
You were still staring up at him from your place on the floor, your attention doing absolutely nothing to help the way his hands were trembling. It wasn’t the first time he’d had a woman on her knees for him… But it was the first time he couldn’t stop shaking to drag his pants down his legs to pool on the floor. Usually skilled fingers had been rendered completely and utterly fucking useless.
“You could make yourself useful and help me, y’know,” he quipped. Something between a relieved groan and a hiss escaped his plump, delectable lips as your ethereal gaze dragged over his strained erection.
“Would you rather I help the baby that can’t pull his pants down or make him come down my throat?” Steve was too dazed to answer. “You need to think before you speak, Stevie. That smart-ass mouth will get you into trouble.”
“I’m already in a world of it, angel,” he responded, barely audible as his voice caught in his throat, along with his breath when you brushed your tongue over your lips again, moving to palm himself through his boxers.
“Ah-ah,” you cooed, catching his wrist and moving it back to his side. “No touching yourself or me. You touch either of us… and I stop. Got it, princess?”
He resisted the urge to ask what in the hell was wrong with you, couldn’t you see how desperate he was? How he was already on the edge and you’d barely touched him aside from grabbing his wandering hand? That you’d already won?
Instead, he barely managed a nod, planting his hands against the cold plaster of the wall at his back. And he waited.
And waited.
You were still kneeling on the floor before him, but that smug grin playing on your lips was new. “How in control are you?” You asked.
“What?”
“Am I correct in saying that you said nobody has complete control over you?” You moved to lay backwards, propping yourself up on your elbows. “And would you be in control if I took these off?” You asked, skimming a finger along the trim of your panties.
His breath thickened in his throat. “Yes.”
“Oh, Steve. You should know by now that lying is not okay, angel.” Your voice reverberated through his entire body, your eyes burning into his as if hot, melted candle wax had been poured onto his blushing face. Hips bucked into the air as you shimmied the garment down the expanse of your legs at an agonizingly slow pace. “And you should know that I hate liars, Steve.”
If Steve was having trouble breathing before, he was nearly suffocating now as he took you in again; laying bare before him, your nails grazing along your skin. Slowly, teasingly, he watched, hypnotized as they neared your core.
A hitched breath, wondering if you were going to touch yourself as he watched. A silent prayer that the answer would be yes. And it was. Fucking hell, it was.
You repeated your question; “Are you in control now, Steven?” and he didn’t know the answer. He was, and he wasn’t. He knew the reality didn’t quite match up with what he wanted to say. It was a struggle to keep his twitching hands to himself, let alone think up a smart response to hide how untethered he was. To maintain that ‘King Steve’ façade.
“Y/N, I—”
“Wanna touch yourself, don’t you, angel?”
He groaned, his fingers grasping at nothing as they tried to dig into the wall, into his sides. But nothing worked. It was all too much for him; a sensory overload. The sight of you, the cockiness in your voice as you teased him.
Though almost unbearable, he had never felt more alive.
“Y-yes,” he finally choked out.
Your eyes locked on his gaze as you said, “Go ahead. Disobey me, princess, and see what happens.”
He gulped as he reached out to stroke his throbbing dick: the first stroke bringing so much relief he was certain he was going to black out any second. A loud moan comes within the second.
“Why so whiny, princess?” You teased as the third moan escaped his lips, which had his toes curling against the wooden floor; that all-too-familiar heat pooling in his stomach, ready to release at any moment.
“Fuck, Y/N— Oh my god,” he whimpered, just as you stood to your feet, grabbing his wrists, forcefully turning him around. “Holy shit, you’re strong.”
“I worked out with Billy every day for the last five fuckin’ years, Harrington. And now that he’s dead I do it even more. I get both of our workouts in,” you hiss in his ear, sending a harsh slap to his ass. “Don’t ever underestimate me again, got it? And stop moaning like a fucking girl.”
Another harsh slap to his ass had him pressed even further into the wall, so hard he cried out in pleasurable pain.
“Fuckin' pretty, aren't you, angel? So fuckin’ pretty like this. My babydoll, all unravelled for me the moment I mentioned I worked out. Or was it when I mentioned my brother?” You asked, pressing yourself harder against him. “Did my little princess have a thing for Billy? ‘S that why you hated him so much? Why you hate me so much?”
“M’— Y-yes. Yes, it is,” he sighed as you reached forward, bare chest against his back as you took him in your hand, your wrist flicking in the same momentum as his rapidly beating heart. And it wasn’t even a second later that he—
It was nearly 8 am when Steve jolted awake, his heart ready to break free and burst through his chest. He didn’t bother taking a peek under the covers, already knowing without even having to look, what a mess he’d made of himself. Once again.
It had never been this bad when he was in high school, and it was this thought of you dominating him, smacking his ass, calling him your princess and making him scream that had him stumbling to the shower to wash away his sin and his indiscretions.
He set the temperature to as cold as it could possibly go and stepped inside, standing right under the spray.
It was so pathetic how he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Couldn’t stop replaying in your mind how you felt, how you made him feel. The sound of your lowered voice crawling underneath his skin, the sensations of the pads of fingers on his skin. Your earthy perfume and the taste of your mouth. The sight of you with your legs spread like a buffet, wanting, and coming undone in front of him.
If you’d managed to overwhelm every one of his senses in a dream, what would the real thing be like?
You’d told him to keep his hands to himself, and that he would suffer consequences if he disobeyed. Which he did. But not even the sting of cold water on that cold Saturday morning was enough to cool him down. So he thought about it once, twice, three times before he slipped his hand underneath the covers.
The water beat down on him as he tried to rid his mind of the mountain of unholy thoughts about you. You didn’t need to know what he was doing. What you didn’t know wouldn’t kill you, and he was certainly not planning on coming clean.
“King Steve” having a wet dream about Y/N Hargrove? No way. That never happened. Not once.
He needed to take the edge off somehow. It would be much worse to head into Family Video and walk around all day with a raging erection, he told himself. But the wait was torturous. Time itself seemed to betray him more and more, the clock opposite his bed barely moving every time he snuck a glance.
If Steve would go to hell when he died, it would just be this, he thought; the insanely slow wait for you to call.
Because that’s all it was. He had to remind himself before he exploded, taking care of himself in the bathroom before slamming his foot down on the accelerator and driving to work to see that Robin had already arrived, panting and out of breath.
“I tried calling you, dingus. Did you sleep in again?” She asked, unlocking the door. “You know you’re on your last strike with Keith, right?”
“Yeah, how could I ever forget,” he deadpanned, holding the door open for Robin before they both headed inside, the sight of you still playing in Steve’s mind on a loop.
The first thing he noticed after the little smirk playing on Robin’s lips was a polaroid picture on top of a stack of tapes, in the eyesight of anyone that would walk in through those doors. He turned the ‘closed’ sign on the door to ‘open’ before waking over.
He nearly blacked out as soon as he picked up the polaroid with trembling fingers. Desire pricked at his skin like a wildfire destined to burn out of control as he drank in the sight. Your almost completely naked body contrasted against the crisp white sheets you were wrapped in, your lips slightly parted and your eyes half-lidded; the photograph showcased you laying on a bed.
There was just a hint of indecency, a promise of a whole lot more, and Steve suddenly couldn’t remember having seen anything so perfect in his 19 years of life, couldn’t focus on anything except the sound of blood rushing in his ears and the picture in front of him.
A strained whimper escaped the back of his throat as he flipped it over, reading the message on the back that had been written in a pretty, delicate font to contrast the feral thoughts running through his mind.
You can’t take me out, but I might let you invite me over if you behave like a good boy and keep your hands to yourself until tomorrow, and a heart drawn in pink gel pen next to the note.
“Whatcha got there, Dingus?” Robin teased, switching on the TV to the current news. “I bet it’s more interesting than whatever’s on the news...”
Steve shoved the polaroid in the front pocket of his jeans, trying to adjust himself as he did so, a blush reaching his cheeks until the ringing stopped in his mind. Until he started listening to the news until he heard Robin dropping the VHS tape she was holding, her eyes glued to the screen. “Oh no.”
“…We’re in the Forest Hills trailer park in east Roane County. We don’t have a lot of details but we can confirm that the body of a Hawkins High cheerleader was discovered earlier this morning in critical condition after suffering severe life-threatening injuries. Police have not yet released the name…”
“Holy shit,” Steve whispered, eyes focussed completely on the screen, his stomach tumbling down a flight of stairs the size of Mount Everest.
“…although we are told they’re currently in the process of notifying her family.”
“Forest Hills. That’s where Y/N lives, right? And she’s a cheerleader…” Robin subconsciously asked, hypnotized by the images of a green, yellow and white skirt, white converse and ambulances flooded the screen. “And- and Chrissy was with her last night. No, I’m remembering wrong! She was with… Eddie! Yeah, she was with Eddie. And I’m rambling again—?”
“No,” Steve cut her off, ignoring the feeling of his stomach dropping through the floor. “You’re not ruining my morning, Rob. It wasn’t Y/N.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Intuition. She would’ve put up a good fight no matter who she was up against, Rob. She’s a Hargrove, after all,” he stated, just as the door to the video store burst open, revealing a dishevelled-looking Dustin and Mike in the doorway, Max following closely behind with fresh tears pricking each of their precious little eyes.
They didn’t say a word as they jumped over to where Steve and Robin stood, bottom lips trembling as the news reporter continued her report. Trying to put on brave faces but failing miserably.
“The body is being taken to the hospital for a careful examination, and being put on life support. It has been said that the girl is now in a coma, on the brink of losing her life. Her chances of survival are slim to none, but all of our best wishes to her and we hope she gets back home alive and safe.”
Oh, so if she lives there which is a very high chance…
Oh.
Oh no.
“We will be back to you when further news has been released. This is Donna Burgess from Indiana Daily, thank you for your time. Back to you, Priscilla.”
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