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redahlia-writes · 2 years

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cherry bomb. | steve harrington

Abstract: “I’ve been spending too much time with Robin, probably. I get nervous and I just start talking, and I don’t really think about what I’m saying beforehand.”

You chuckled, shifting closer yet, and brought your other hand to his face as well, cupping his cheeks to make him turn his head slightly in your direction - his eyes moved over your face, from one side to the other, lips and then eyes.

“Do I make you nervous, Harrington?” you asked amused, a grin on your lips as your voice lowered. His breath caught in his throat, the tip of his tongue darting between his lips - you looked down at his mouth then, head slightly tilted, and he was suddenly aware of how close the two of you actually were.

“No,” he breathed out - then, because your smirk grew, he sighed. “A little,” he admitted, voice softer, hand inching up towards your knee.

Words: 8.9K (this wasn’t supposed to be this long, apologies)

Warnings: (f!reader, r has tattoos); minors dni. swearing, mentions of alcohol, usage of light drugs, teasing, flirting, pet names, smut, the smallest hint of praise kink, the smallest hint of sub steve too (blink and you’ll miss it), fingering, dry humping, hickeys, like a lot of hickeys and other lovebites, protected sex (wrap it up people), some fluff unedited

Author’s note: based mostly on the song cherry bomb by the runaways, but also some other bits of the album - if i missed some warnings please do tell me

also on AO3 - masterlist

It was easy to stand out in a town like Hawkins - the smallest hint of being different would immediately bring people to look at the person with sneers of diffidence and a scoff on their lips.

That was particularly true in your case: the girl who’d turned her back on her family, who’d left school just as she was about to finish it, who lived at the edge of the woods in a place that seemed to be held together by duct tape and hope.

The Cherry Bomb of Hawkins, a nickname born when you were still in highschool that had stuck so profoundly some people didn’t even know your actual name anymore - it was just Cherry.

That’s how Steve Harrington knew you - the name that popped in his head when you walked in front of the café he and Robin ended up working at after Family Video sacked them.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Robin commented as she wiped the counter, and the bell at the door chimed as you walked in, lowering your shades a little on your nose.

“I thought she’d left Hawkins,” he murmured, lowering his voice as you reached the counter, glancing up at the scribbled board. “Wasn’t that the whole reason she quit school?” “Dude, quiet,” Robin admonished, then moved at the counter. “Hi, what can I get you?”

“Robin, you work here?” there was a tiredness in your voice, and when you took your sunglasses off, dark circles surrounded your eyes. “What happened to Family Video?” “Ah, we got fired,” she shrugged, leaning in a little bit. Your eyes flickered towards Steve, and he felt his grip on the rag he was holding slip a little bit as you met his gaze with a quick grin. “Long story.”

“You come as a package now?” you asked with a chuckle, and Robin shrugged lightly, giving it no importance. “I need the strongest coffee you can make - and the cheapest,” you said then, leaning with your forearms against the counter.

“Long night?” Robin asked, glancing in Steve’s direction pitifully - he was in charge of making the coffees after that time Robin accidentally burned herself and still carried the scar on the palm of her hand.

“Long shift,” you groaned, following him with your eyes. “I should’ve done like you - a café during the day sounds much nicer than that shitty pub at night,” you said then, tipping your head slightly back.

“You’re still working there?” Steve looked over his shoulder at Robin, the familiarity in her words, the surprise. He was aware they hadn’t been friends for long, but since when was Robin Buckley friends with you? “Hadn’t you applied for other jobs?” she continued, a little worriedly.

“After the mall fiasco everyone started looking for another job,” you shrugged, lifting your gaze towards Steve - he quickly brought his attention back to your coffee, missing the light, amused frown that crossed your face. “Should a spot open here, I’ll let you know,” Robin reassured, a smile in her words.

Steve didn’t see the grateful nod you gave Robin, a tired smile still on your lips, finishing up your coffee - he stepped behind Robin to place it on the counter in front of you, moving the sugar closer before stepping out of the way.

“Thanks,” you pulled the cup towards you with your eyebrows slightly arched, and he nodded only in reply. “Hey, Harrington, cat got your tongue?”

He froze - Steve froze, turning his head to look at you with his eyes widening a little, as if surprised you were even addressing him in the first place. He couldn’t remember one single instance the two of you had spoken, too different in status when in high-school - he just remembered the voices that circulated about you, things he’d heard without caring about it.

“I - no. Sorry, no,” he cleared his throat, and watched you stifle a laugh, eyes glimmering in amusement as he frowned. “You work at a pub, huh? Which one?”

At his side, Robin snorted, moving from the counter as she shook her head - Steve wanted to grab her by the collar of her shirt and keep her there, just so he didn’t have to be alone in that situation. But his hands remained glued to his sides, fidgeting slightly with the rag hanging from his pocket.

“There’s only one pub in Hawkins, you can’t miss it - The Hideout,” you said with a quick smirk, picking up the coffee. “And it stays open only because we’re paid a misery - so if you’re thinking of moving business, always keep a job on the side,” you warned, pointing a finger in his direction.

You were not what he expected - which, really, shouldn’t have surprised him, not with the way the town treated those who didn’t fit in. He glanced in Robin’s direction quickly.

“You got one?” he cleared his throat again, suddenly dry, and you nodded. “What is it?” “You’re a big boy, Harrington,” you hummed from over the rim of the cup, “you can figure it out by yourself, can’t you?”

He was grateful for Robin calling your name - your actual name - or else the next, surely embarrassing, words would’ve sputtered out of him, out of his control, his neck warming up at the slight drawl in your voice and tilt of your head, eyes never leaving him.

“Coffee’s on the house,” Robin called, a glance in Steve’s direction almost as a warning. “But don’t tell anyone or else we’ll surely get fired.”

“Like I have anybody to tell it to,” you grinned, lifting the cup back up to your lips to finish the drink - a dark red halo stained the rim when you placed it back down, tip of the tongue darting out to catch the droplets on your top lip. “Thanks, Robs - Harrington. See you.”

He managed to put his hand up and wave only when the door had already closed behind you, bell chiming in its wake. At the other end of the counter, Robin burst out laughing, one hand on her chest as she leaned back.

“You should see your face - oh, I’d pay to get a picture of it right now,” she exclaimed, clearly enjoying Steve’s lost expression. “She’s gonna crush your heart, Steve,” Robin warned, laughter still clinging to her voice. Then, she held her hand up. “No, not just crush it. She'll rip it out of your chest, throw it on the ground, stomp on it, then get in her car and run it over. Twice.”

“Jesus, Robin,” he found his voice again with a scoff, picking up the cup left behind. “It’s not like that - I was just surprised, is all.” “Yeah, sure,” Robin snorted.

“I didn’t know you had other friends,” he mocked, but Robin’s mood was too good to be impacted by his remark. “Especially not her. When did you two even become friends?” “Around the time you were King of Hawkins,” she announced after a moment of pondering. “Just - forget about it. I’m saying this for your sake.”

Steve didn’t think it was like that. He genuinely thought he’d just been surprised - but had you always looked like that? Had your voice always been so soft, so alluring? Had your laugh always been this contagious?

––––––––––

“This place always looks like a shithole,” Eddie mumbled, eyebrows arched as he looked around the pub. “Why are we here again, Harrington?”

“Steve’s got a crush,” Robin chimed in before he could reply, and grinned in response to his glare. At that, Eddie perched up on his seat, suddenly more interested. “Yeah, yeah - it’s not like that,” she mocked, and shot a knowing glance in Eddie’s direction. “She comes to the café almost every morning - he’s been pining for like a month.”

“Well, you only had to say that,” he clapped his hands lightly, then rubbed them together as he leaned forward, eyes scanning the crowd more attentively. “Who do we need to woo?”

“No one,” Steve warned, pointing a finger first in Robin’s direction, then Eddie’s. “No. We’re here just to see what the place’s like.” “It’s shit, Harrington,” Eddie pointed out, tilting his head a little. “I play with the band here - I could’ve easily told you that.”

“Wait, you do?” Steve frowned, and Eddie scoffed at him, leaning back and crossing his arms. “Yes - and, frankly, I’m a little offended you’d come here for a girl but not to see me play,” he tipped his chin up with a little hmph noise which lasted just a few seconds before his mouth split in a grin, his arms opening as he leaned back in his chair.

Steve barely had the time to turn before you reached the table, almost throwing yourself on Eddie, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he pulled you onto him with a loud cackle, rubbing your back quickly.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t come here unless it was to play, Munson,” your voice was a little hoarse, a little louder than when at the café, and you pulled back from the curve of Eddie’s neck to look at him, hands reaching up to cup his face. “You’re a liar.”

“I’ve been brought here against my will, Cherry,” he said, a little bit theatrical.

Only then did you turn around on his lap, taking in both Steve and Robin - your eyebrows arched upwards, lips parting in surprise. A little smile made its way over your face, and letting go of Eddie’s face you leaned with your elbows on the table.

“This is a nice surprise,” you hummed, looking at Robin first, then letting your gaze linger on Steve, head slightly tilted. “Didn’t expect this to be your scene, Harrington.”

Steve’s gaze fell to Eddie’s arm wrapped around your waist, clearing his throat a little before flicking it back towards your face - at the look on his face, Eddie did his best to not burst out laughing, meeting Robin’s told-you-so gaze from across the table.

“Yeah, I figured -” he shrugged, muttering something that went lost in the cacophony of the place. You chuckled, hand coming down to rest on the table, mere inches from his as you leaned further forward.

“And here I thought I’d done a good job in saying how much of a dump this place is,” you sighed, then pulled quickly back - much to Steve’s dismay. You tapped Eddie’s arm still wrapped around you, and he let go of you immediately. How often had that happened, Steve wondered, then shook the thought away. “Gotta get back to work, if you need anything just yell,” you announced and got up - then turned around and planted a kiss on Eddie’s cheek, leaving a smudged lipstick stain on his skin before strolling away.

Eddie leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest as he looked at Steve’s expression carefully, doing his best to hold back a laugh. Robin too was looking at him, his gaze trained after you.

“So, you know her too, huh?” Steve hummed, and forced his eyes back towards Eddie - only to find him staring at him already, grinning like a madman. “What?” he wondered, taken aback - only then did Eddie start laughing, long and loud, head thrown back as he struggled to breathe properly.

“Oh, you’re so screwed,” he hiccupped, breath short. “She’s going to eat you alive, you do know that, right?”

“You’re both so dramatic,” Steve huffed, rolling his eyes. “And it’s not like that,” he added quickly. Robin and Eddie looked at each other again, a knowing look in their eyes. “You seem friendly enough, anyway. Both of you, actually.”

“Yes, friendly,” Robin pointed out, her hand landing on Steve’s arm. “She’s a great friend, but you’re too much of a hopeless romantic,” she said it gently, but Steve scoffed again, glancing towards the counter where you were placing drinks in front of a group of clearly already drunk men.

“Robin, I swear -” he sighed, head thrown back in exasperation. “What about you - that was particularly friendly,” he said then, gesturing towards Eddie, who’d just regained his breath.

“Why do you think I’m telling you this?” he said it with a glint in his eyes. “She helped us with our first gig here - had the biggest crush on her,” he admitted, a little bashful. “She ended up stealing half of my clients because, honestly, I would rather buy from her than me, too. We stayed friends, though - help each other out,” he glanced around the pub with a slight grimace. “You need to, in a place like this.”

––––––––––

Always keep a job on the side.

It shouldn’t have surprised Steve - when you gained a certain reputation in Hawkins, you either did everything in your power to destroy it (like he’d done) or you embraced it fully (like it seemed you’d done).

Your house - if it could be called a house the four walls, one door and patchy garden in front of it - was the only thing in sight for miles, behind only forest, before only road. It was similar to Hopper’s cabin, where he’d hidden Eleven for a year.

Had you been trying to hide yourself away?

His knocking was hesitant, and half-way through the second hit he almost considered turning back around and walking away, but by the time he’d brought his hand back the door was already opening, you on the other side wearing pajamas bottoms and a cropped tank top, a baton in hand and your head tilted.

“Harrington,” despite the usual, slightly teasing note that his name held, you sounded surprised, glancing past his shoulder and back at him. “This is unexpected. You lost?” “No, I came to see you,” he admitted, and a quick grin made its way across your face as he lifted the six-pack of beer he had in his hand. “I come bearing gifts,” he added, a little smile on his lips.

“You could’ve started with that,” you said, moving aside and placing the baton down. Steve stepped in, and you lifted your leg in front of him. “Shoes off,” you ordered, taking the beers from his hand. Observing him with your head slightly tilted as he followed your instructions, you let the door close behind him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Uh, I was wondering if you could help me,” he responded, straightening up and glancing at the baton. “Do you have to use that often?” he couldn’t help but wonder, the edges slightly dented.

“Every now and then,” you shrugged, walking towards the kitchen area - it was small, barely a corner, an empty plate sitting in the sink - and placing the beer in the fridge. “Most people just don’t want to fuck with me - they think I might sacrifice them to some forest deity,” you added with an amused glint in your eye.

Steve was starting to see why you got along with Eddie.

“You live here alone?” he asked with a little frown, taking in the place - it was chaotic, but not messy, with mismatched furniture, a radio playing low music resting by the window, and entirely you. He couldn’t explain why, but there was a little bit of you in every corner of the living room.

“Why, planning on murdering me, Harrington?” you flashed him a grin, stepping towards the corridor that led to a half-closed door. He followed you with his gaze, but remained by the couch, taking in the space furthermore. “Oh, no - I wouldn’t want any forest deity moving against me,” he called a little louder, and heard your laughter followed by a little clattering.

“Does Eddie know you’re buying from his competition?” you called back, and before he could answer you returned to the living room, a shoebox in your hands. “Actually, yes,” he cleared his throat, watching as you settled on the couch, box on your crossed legs. “I’ll have some apologizing to do.”

You looked up at him, eyebrows arched, and Steve froze for a moment.

“Come sit,” you said then, turning towards the free end of the couch. He made his way towards it carefully, sitting by the edge of the cushion and, unable to help yourself, you snorted. “I won’t bite,” you reassured, voice lowered as you leaned towards him. “You’re different from what I expected, Harrington.”

“Thank you?” he frowned a little, unsure, and you grinned again, placing the box in front of him and opening it for him. Buds and pre-rolled joints looked up at him, and he tilted his head a little, taking one up. “Split?” he offered, and you scoffed.

“Trying the product before actually committing to the purchase?” you took the joint from him and shifted forward to grab a lighter from the coffee table in front of you. “No, not really,” he followed your movements, taking a slow breath in. “I just don’t want to go already,” he admitted then, voice lower. You paused, joint held between your lips, and then one corner of your mouth lifted up slightly, a half smirk as you flicked the lighter.

You inhaled, eyes never leaving Steve as your cheeks hollowed slightly, and then moved the box on the table right as you exhaled, leaning in his direction, the smoke curling around your extended arm and hand.

“You only had to say that, Harrington.”

He took the joint from you, fingers brushing for a split second, then watches6 as you sat back, legs kicked up on the couch and legs bent. The cropped top left the tattoo across your ribs exposed, and his eyes lingered there for a moment.

“What did you expect?” he asked, looking up to meet your gaze already on him - it made him feel under some sort of scrutiny, and he shifted a little, attempting to relax back on the couch. “You said I’m different from what you expected - what did you expect?”

“Come on,” you scoffed, legs crossed at the ankle and a slight roll of your eyes. “Steve Harrington, the King of Hawkins,” you said then, an exaggerated, theatrical note in your voice, eyes widening a little in emphasis. “I remember high-school - you could be a real asshole.”

Steve brought the joint to his lips with a half-hazarded scoff, eyes wandering away. He should’ve been used to the bluntness, with Robin, Dustin and Eddie constantly calling him out - yet it somehow sounded different when coming from you.

In the time he’d gotten to know you - the mornings at the café, with your tired eyes and smudged make-up, or the couple of times he’d managed to convince Robin and Eddie to go back to the pub - he’d noticed you never held back. Whether it was with them or a particularly annoying customer at the pub, you had no problem saying things as they were.

And, truthfully, he had been an asshole during high-school.

“I did hear some rumors you had changed,” you continued as he exhaled, tilting your head just slightly. “I just find it hard to listen to and believe in those - had to see it with my own eyes.” “Why’s that?” he asked with a little frown, leaning forward when you gestured at him to hand the joint back, again with the fingers brushing, the delicate jolt running up his arm. You snorted, tipping your head back a little.

“This town certainly has a reputation of not blowing things out of proportion and saying things as they are,” you inhaled, deep and slow, your eyes on him. The cloud of smoke curled up towards the ceiling when you exhaled and returned the joint back to him. “I mean, I’m definitely in a cult, you know? Same as Eddie. We meet on Sundays to sacrifice people at the altar right behind my house,” you announced, a cheeky grin on your face as you rested back.

Steve scoffed lightly, shaking his head.

“Okay, yeah, that’s not - you’re right,” he noticed a faint ring of lipstick around the filter of the joint as he brought it up to his own lips, and his eyes flicked up to your face, to the smudged stain at the corner of your mouth. “How much of the stuff they say is true?” he wondered then, and simultaneously wondered whether it was too much he was asking or not.

You shrugged, hands interlocked over your stomach as he took a drag.

“I decided to leave my parents’ house, and I did try to move out of Hawkins - that’s how I found this place. Oh, and no, I’m not a virgin,” the words made him cough, smoke burning his nostrils and throat as he turned the other way, only hearing your chuckle. “So easy,” you murmured, stretching across the cushion and towards him as you continued listing. “I’m not planning on dying alone, just waiting to not have someone get with me as a challenge. And I did want to finish school - my parents just decided otherwise for me after I left.”

“Oh,” he frowned again, his voice scratchy, trying to make sense of your words. She’s gonna crush your heart. She’s going to eat you alive. “Why stay in Hawkins, then? You clearly hate the place,” he tried then, and you chuckled again - he tilted his head a little, watching you. “Even now, couldn’t you just go?”

“With pub and drugs money? No,” you shook your head, extending your legs across his lap. “I wouldn’t make it very far - I’m not even sure I’d have enough gas to get out of town,” you added, lifting yourself up enough to take the joint back from his hand.

He wasn’t sure whether it was the weed or your being so relaxed at his side, but he felt himself melt back a little, his hand coming to rest on your calf, a sense of ease settling in his bones. His tongue felt looser, too, the knot in his throat he got whenever you were around vanishing altogether.

“Isn’t there anyone you could ask to help? I’m sure -” he paused, watching as you arched an eyebrow through your exhale.

“If I had anyone willing to help, d’you really believe I’d have stayed here?” you pulled yourself up then, sitting with your legs draped over his to hand him the last bit of the joint. His gaze softened, hand lingering for a moment over yours even as the filter started to burn against his skin and you rolled your eyes just a little, leaning to rest your elbows across your thighs, back of one hand resting against his chest and the other supporting your head up. “Don’t worry, Harrington, I don’t need pity. I’d do it again, even if it means remaining stuck here.”

“Still,” he hesitated. Still, couldn’t you have done so much more? Instead, you shook your head.

“Trust me, had you had parents like mine, you would’ve rather lived in a shack - even worse than this one - too,” you reassured, brushing your knuckles across his chest before reaching to get the ashtray for him to stump out the butt.

“Well, I barely know my parents,” he admitted absent-mindedly, gaze turned down to where his hand rested across your leg. “They’re never really home, and if they are it still feels as if they’re not actually there - like they don’t see me, or simply don’t care, or -” he looked up all of a sudden, cutting himself off. “Sorry, I don’t know why I said that. I shouldn’t be complaining - my life’s been so fucking easy so far, it’s ridiculous, I really shouldn’t say -”

“Steve,” the sound of his name on your lips made him snap back to reality all of a sudden, your hand moving from his chest to his neck, then up furthermore to cup his jaw. Your skin was soft and cold, and his eyelids drooped slightly at your touch, hazy gaze turning to your smile. “Relax - it’s not like being wealthy precludes you from having shitty parents.”

“No, it doesn’t,” he scoffed, somewhat amused. “I’ve been spending too much time with Robin, probably. I get nervous and I just start talking, and I don’t really think about what I’m saying beforehand.”

“No,” he breathed out - then, because your smirk grew, he sighed. “A little,” he admitted, voice softer, hand inching up towards your knee.

He’d seen you with Eddie - his arms around you, your hands holding his face, the way he’d play with your hair and you with his rings. He’d seen you with Robin, too - tucking her hair behind her ear, having her sit on your lap, murmuring things in her ear that left her flustered and she refused to repeat. He knew it meant nothing: the touches, the teasing, the looks.

But it was just the two of you, in your house, so close, and he was high on weed and your sharp perfume, and he was sure you could feel his heart doing laps in his chest.

“Maybe I should go,” he murmured, but made no attempt to move from his position. “I’m not letting you drive back right now,” you shook your head, thumbs running across his cheeks as you brought him closer. “You’re high - your pupils are huge.”

“They always get like that when I see you though,” his whispered response as he lowered his forehead towards yours earned a quiet chuckle from you, hands falling to his shoulders. “I have a confession - I didn’t actually come here for the weed.”

“No?” he could hear the amused note in your voice, but didn’t really care, your fingers brushing his neck just above the collar of his shirt as he shook his head.

“I just wanted to see you - without Robin, or Eddie, or anyone at The Hideout, or you just coming back from work,” your hands reached the back of his head, one hand cupping the nape of his neck, the other brushing his hair down a bit as you hummed in response.

And then you were kissing him, pulling him towards you as your lips bruised his and his hand gripped your leg both in surprise and to ground himself. You were there, solid - so soft - under his hand, over him, on him.

When he sighed, lips parting, your tongue brushed into his mouth, and you moved to sit on his lap - never once breaking the kiss but only deepening it, forcing his head back against the backrest of the couch as you shifted a little higher than him. Steve could taste the smoke on your lips and, ironically enough, cherries.

His hands moved from your legs as you straddled his lap, slowly caressing up your hips and waist, gripping a little tighter when you had to break the kiss to breathe, slowly shifting back on his thighs. He then felt your lips drag across his jaw sloppily, down and down towards his neck as he craned his head back a little.

“This wasn’t my intention, by the way,” he breathed out, voice hoarse, forcing back a quiet groan as you kissed his pulse point. “I really just wanted to see you, and be with you, but this -”

“I know, Steve,” you hummed, a little smile in your words. “Relax, it’s okay,” you added, lips brushing the shell of his ear before you tilted your head, resuming the trail of kisses across Steve’s neck. One of his hands left your side, moving to the small of your back as if to push you against him furthermore just as a hiss left his mouth.

“You said you wouldn’t bite,” he gasped, and craned his neck as your teeth sank gently into his skin, offering you more. With a low chuckle, you ran the flat of your tongue across the offended spot, making Steve shift underneath you, eyes fluttering shut.

“I lied,” you admitted, making your way further down, nibbling at his throat as he threw his head back, sighing softly while he caressed your back, reaching underneath your shirt, his warm hand splaying over your spine. He pushed you closer, your hips rocking against him.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, breathless, his fingers stroking your skin tentatively. Slowly, you pulled your head up, angling yourself so you were looking down at him, a little smile on your swollen lips.

“You’re already touching me,” you whispered, and he took his other hand off of your side to reach your face. He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing at the corner of your mouth as if to clean it of the smeared lipstick. There was a tenderness in his touch, such strong contrast with the heaving of his chest, his pupils wide, his lips bruised. “Yes, Steve, you can,” you reassured then, unable to keep yourself from smiling.

He lifted his head then, kissing you right back as both his hands returned to your waist, open-mouthed and needy. He traced the edge of the tattoo across your ribs, delicate and slow, touch shifting until he was cupping your breasts, his warm palms over your naked skin eliciting a gasp out of you.

You shifted above him again, grinding down on him as you slowly rolled your hips to second the movements of his hands, soft sighs falling from your lips. He bucked up his hips, a moan escaping you against his mouth in response.

“Okay?” he let his lips trail along your jaw, word barely slurred out as you nodded, then threw your head back and bit down on your bottom lip, back arching towards his touch as his thumbs swept over your nipples, gaining another moan out of you. “Can I take this off?”

His voice had dropped as he pushed your top up a little, looking up at you almost expectantly and, lip still trapped between your teeth, you nodded again, moving your hands from his shoulders to aid him. Steve moved slowly, his eyes never leaving you, taking in every further inch of exposed skin until you were standing bare-chested in front of him, and his hands were on your sides again.

“Look at you,” a mere whisper uttered as he brushed his lips across your collarbones, up to your throat, nudging your chin up. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he continued, voice muffled against your skin.

You froze for a moment - an instant of tension after you’d buried your hands in his hair, breath catching in your throat at his words. So soft. So genuine. The situation dawned on you so suddenly - Steve’s lips on you, his body underneath you, his touch still delicate. It wasn’t his challenge, being there with you. It was all real.

He felt the moment you stilled, no other noise coming from you but heavy breaths, and he pulled back right away, looking up just as a hesitant smile bent your lips - just barely visible.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, a little worried. “Nothing,” you shook your head and cleared your throat, bringing your gaze down on him as you brushed his hair back - only messing it further. He frowned lightly, and you leaned in. “It’s nothing, Steve, really.”

“We can stop,” he spoke softly, hands remaining still at your sides. “If you changed your mind - I don’t care. We can stop. I can go.”

“No,” you shook your head, cupping his cheeks as you softened against him, the tension leaving you as you looked into his eyes. He meant it. All of it. “No one’s called me beautiful in a while - it’s stupid.”

At that, he frowned, eyes moving across your face, down your neck and chest, your arms and back up to your face. “I don’t believe that,” he muttered, shaking his head as much as your hands allowed. You shrugged, rubbing small circles at the corner of his mouth.

“Hot, desirable, foxy even,” you listed, gaze lingering on his parting lips. “Just that.”

“Well, I say you are beautiful,” he said, tipping his chin up a little. He took your hand from his face, turning his head to rest a delicate kiss on your palm. “Beautiful,” he repeated, voice hoarse, then kissed your wrist. “Lovely,” your forearm. “Cute,” the crook of your elbow. “Pretty,” a breath against your shoulder before beckoning you closer. “Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful,” each time a kiss across the skin of your neck, and you couldn’t help the quiet snort escaping your lips.

It pulled a smile on his mouth as well before he brought his hand behind your head, cupping the nape of your neck and closing the gap between you, the kiss a little slower, a little softer, his other arm wrapping around your middle to hold you against him.

You felt him shift, keeping you firmly as he switched your positions, laying you down across the couch and settling with one leg between your thighs, free hand braced at your side to not weigh down on you. Still kissing you, he traced your side with the tip of his fingers, almost ticklish as you arched against him, tugging at his shirt until his back was uncovered.

He pulled back long enough to take it off and, in straightening his back, his thigh pressed between your legs, causing a whine to fall from your lips as you hooked your fingers in the belt of his jeans.

“Do that again,” you gasped, rolling your hips just slightly as you attempted to pull him closer. Steve’s hands fell to your hips, gripping them and helping you grind against him, the flimsy material of your pants wrinkling at the friction as you moaned again, lips parting, head thrown back with a string of curses stuck in your throat.

Steve watched you, the flush across your chest, your hands fumbling to undo his belt blindly, the pressure against your core making your stomach flutter. Beautiful didn’t even begin to describe it, the curve of your body as you sought more friction against the rough material of his jeans, your eyelids trembling as you turned your head and looked at him through lowered lashes.

Once his belt came undone, and you popped the button of his pants, he lowered himself against you, still holding your hips in place. Your hands roamed his torso, sides, shoulders as he kissed you again, and kissed you and kissed you, desperately trying to capture every single little noise that escaped your open mouth.

He shifted his leg back, a sound of protest muffled against his mouth, quickly replaced by a shuddering breath as one of his hands left your side, moving past the waistband of your pants and underwear, his fingers just barely brushing your skin.

“Can I?” he drawled over your skin, down and down your jaw, neck, chest, the tip of his tongue tracing the tattoo across your sternum before moving up again, his gaze searching yours as the heel of his hand gently pressed onto your lower belly. “Please,” he added, hot breath fanning over your parted lips.

Plush lips, dilated pupils, short breath, Steve looked down at you expectantly, waiting, the warmth of his hand on you luring you closer - you nodded then, bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you arched against his touch, shifting your hips until his fingers brushed the apex of your core.

Agonizingly slow, he dragged his fingers across your already wet folds, slick gathering over his digits. He was kissing your neck then, lips latched onto your pulse point as he moved the tip of his finger back up - you twitched underneath him when he nudged your clit, a whine escaping your lips when he did it again, drawing a small circle over it.

He was attentive to your every response - when he pushed your thighs a little more open with his legs and you arched furthermore against him, chest puffing up and hands finding his arms to hold onto him; when he switched from side to side to small circles over your clit and you spasmed lightly underneath him, panting and keening into his ear; and when he pushed one finger inside of you, and then a second one, and you clenched around him, grinding down against his hand.

“Steve,” was the only coherent thing that came out of your lips along a string of muttered curses, yes, yes, yes and fuck, Steve, God, his fingers pumping in and out of you, thumb rolling against your clit.

He pulled himself up, a low pop muffled next to your ear where a bruise was already forming in the shape of Steve’s lips, and he sat back on his heels, his hair falling ruffled against his forehead as he trained his gaze down on you again.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his breath labored, curling his fingers inside of you. “So beautiful,” he repeated, watching you throw your head back with a gasp, your neck exposed to him, as if showing off the marks he’d left on your skin.

He moved his other hand from your hip where he held you down to your lower stomach, pushing down as he repeated the motion of his fingers inside of you, pressing against your front wall and making you cry out. The pressure was almost overwhelming, your hand gripping his wrist tighter, grinding down against his hand as his name left your lips over and over again, a chant growing, breathless and whiny.

“I’m gonna -” sentence cut off by a gasp, your thighs started trembling against his in a reflexive attempt to close your legs. “So good, feels so good, Steve,” Steve, Steve, repeated through moans before the air left your lungs fully, and you came gushing over his hand, a long, sharp cry as you shook underneath him, clenching around his fingers.

Steve coaxed your orgasm out of you until it became unbearable and you pushed him away by his wrist with a whispered please, eyes fluttering shut and chest heaving.

Slowly, he dragged his fingers up your abdomen, stomach, between the valley of your breasts, your release still coating his fingers - he kissed your skin clean in its wake, the taste of you on his mouth when he kissed you again, gentle. Wearily you chased him, arm wrapped around his shoulders to push him down, hand buried through his hair as you deepened the kiss, licking every last drop of you from his lips.

“You okay?” he murmured through quick pecks along your cheek, your arms still heavy around him, legs limp at his sides.

“Need a moment,” you retorted, turning your head to try and kiss him again, blindly, sloppily. “You’re so fucking good, Harrington,” he chuckled at your muffled words. “Think I might’ve fallen for you a little there.”

“Alright, don’t mock me now,” he said it light-heartedly, through more tiny kisses, pulling back to look at you each time.

“I’m not,” he scoffed, his hand coming up to brush the hair away from sticking on your forehead. Without his arm supporting him, you flipped the two of you over, straddling his lap with still shaking thighs. “I am not,” you repeated a little firmer, pinning his hands at each side of his head. “You’re good to me, Steve,” you said then, lowering your voice as if anyone could be around to listen while you kissed his lips, once. “Always so good to me,” his jaw -

Steve let his eyes flutter shut, shifting a little underneath you, pants straining as his erection pressed against your lower abdomen, the mere contact making him groan and bite down on his cheeks, a choked out baby leaving his mouth in spite of the layer of clothing between the two of you.

“Giving me free coffee when I need it,” you continued, a little smile in your words as you kissed his neck. “Coming to the pub,” the hollow of his throat as his breath picked up. “Staying up late just to see me to my car,” his collarbones. “Always making sure I’m okay,” his heaving chest before looking up, waiting until he returned his gaze on you to continue in a gentle voice, head tilted. “I do like you,” you admitted quietly, watching as Steve’s neck flushed slightly and he wet his lips, his brows knitting a little. You rested your chin on his chest, gently scratching up and down his forearms. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“No,” he shook his head, then sighed. “Maybe a little - it’s Robin being paranoid, and Eddie being an ass, and you -” he shook his head again, eyes closing.

“I - what?” you frowned slightly, letting go of one of his hands to tap his cheek gently with the tip of your finger - when he looked back at you, you cupped his cheek, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth where a red halo, a stain of whatever had remained of your lipstick, tinged his skin.

“I didn’t think you’d ever take me seriously,” he admitted then - blurted out, really - and your eyebrows arched in surprise. “I came here tonight just because I wanted to be with you, even just for a few minutes - I never expected any of this. Not with you.”

“Not with me?” you chuckled, pushing yourself up a little to move your face right in front of his, tips of your nose brushing his. The shift against his crotch had him groan lightly, jaw twitching at the friction. “You never even spared me a second glance in high-school, what’s that supposed to mean?” despite your words, your hand still cradled his cheek, reassuring.

“That’s not true,” he moved his head, nudging the tip of your nose. “I did look at you. I saw you.”

“Ever thought of trying your luck with me before?” you grinned, the teasing note in your voice making him glance away for a moment.

“God, no,” he sighed, moving his hand slowly until it reached your waist just as you straddled his lap again, rocking slowly against him. “Thought you’d bite my head off.”

“I told you, I don’t bite,” you murmured, tilting your head to brush your lips on his. He kissed you once, twice, hand resting on the small of your back.

“I think I have a mark that says otherwise,” he scoffed in between kisses, pushing you a little closer as you chuckled against his mouth. You let go of his other hand too, which immediately fell to the back of your head as you reached between your bodies, at last undoing the zipper of his jeans before tugging them down - he lifted his hips to help, while simultaneously, moving the hand from your back to the hem of your own pants. “Do you have a -”

“Reach behind you,” hastily, you pulled back and hovered his legs as you helped him out fully, belt jingling as you let the jeans fall to the ground. Eyebrows arched, Steve did as he was told, tilting his head back until he located a small box on the side table and you nodded, kicking off your pants.

“Seriously?” he laughed, watching you smirk and straddle his lap, the ghost of his previous touch still on your thighs. He grabbed a silvery packet and held it up between the two of you, placing the box back down. “In the living room?” he teased, pushing himself up on his elbows.

“I don’t just let anybody in my bedroom, Harrington,” you shrugged, and removed your underwear as well. Steve let his gaze wander across your body - the tattoos, the forming bruises on your hips, the marks he’d left with his mouth. He bucked his hips up involuntarily, forcing his eyes back towards your face as you leaned in and took the condom from his hand. “A girl’s gotta be prepared,” you said then, voice a mere, raspy whisper.

After you removed the last piece of clothing between the two of you, Steve fell back against the couch as you wrapped your hand around his erection, a hiss escaping his lips when you brushed your thumb over the tip, smearing his precum around it and then down his length.

“Jesus - fuck,” he cussed, fucking his hips up into your hand. Seeing and feeling you fall apart on his hand had been enough to almost send him over the edge, leaving him sensitive - one touch and his vision was hazy already.

Baby, sweetheart, baby, falling from his lips at the sound of the wrapping tearing. He moaned when you rolled the condom down his cock, one hand raking through his hair and the other gripping the couch underneath him to keep himself from writhing under your touch.

He was so far gone already.

Steve managed to look up only when he felt your hand wrapped around his base and you shifted up his body again, blurry vision clearing enough to notice the flush of your cheeks and heaving chest, your stomach fluttering as you looked down on him, too, then met his eye - lips parted, panting and sighing as he grabbed your hips, his warm hands already so familiar on your body.

You held his gaze as you slowly, achingly slow, sunk down on him, free hand falling to his chest to hold yourself up, thighs burning as the ache of him stretching you turned into a blinding pleasure.

“Easy,” you warned breathlessly as he pushed you down slightly, a choked back groan at your stillness leaving his lips. You steadied yourself with both hands on his chest now. “Oh my - fuck,” a mewl as you threw your head back, eyes fluttering shut as you bottomed out.

Steve kneaded your sides gently, then ran his hands down your thighs, muscles trembling slightly in the wake of his touch. He didn’t move just yet, heavy breathing underneath your hands as he watched your throat bob, stomach fluttering.

And then you started to move - a slow rocking of your hips, up and down his length. Steve set the pace, his hands guiding you by your hips, soft praises falling from his mouth. Feel so good, so good, keep going, just like that, twitching inside of you each time you let out a moan.

When he shifted, sitting up, you found yourself stilling, both arms wrapped around his shoulders as you clenched around him, gaining another groan from him as he squeezed your hips.

“Alright, baby?” his voice was low, lips trailing lazily across your shoulder, up towards your neck, one of his arms sliding around your waist to keep you down against him while his other hand came to rest behind him.

Burying one hand in his hair you nodded, cheek against cheek as he nibbled the juncture between your ear and jaw, a hum barely passing through your sealed lips that quickly turned into a gasp as he pushed his hips up into you.

Steve moved his head back then, looking up at you as you held onto his shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh as he guided your movements above him, steady, rocking hips that made his eyelids grow heavy - yet he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

“So pretty,” he whispered through his shortening breaths and moans, reaching up to tuck a wild strand of hair behind your ear, then cup your cheek - he fucked up into you again, the slap of skin against skin echoing through the room, the house, your head as you forced yourself to keep your eyes open. “So fucking pretty.”

He felt you falter, hips twitching uncontrolled as your thighs shook at his sides, just as you blindly searched for his mouth, tugging onto his hair a little harsher until you managed to kiss him, deep and breathless, your lips bruising - and again and again.

“I’m gonna come, Steve,” whispered against his skin, voice cracking with a cry and Steve, Steve repeated over and over like a chant.

You pulled his hair, just once, to break away from him and gasp a oh God as you threw your head back, your whole body trembling around his - it tipped him over the edge, too, a groan he suppressed against the skin of your chest, twitching deep inside of you as he came and oh God the soft noises, the praises falling from his lips directly onto your skin were almost enough to make your head spin.

You stayed like that: him still deep inside of you, his head resting on your chest, your heart hammering under his ear as you brushed your hand through his hair and placed your cheek on top of his head, both his arms wrapped loosely around you as you tried to regain your breaths.

“I take back what I said before,” your mouth felt pasty, voice muffled as your cheek remained slightly squashed on top of Steve’s head. “I definitely fell for you a little bit, now.”

Steve laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest and across your skin - the slight shake of his body made you hiss, and he left a quick peck against the hollow of your throat before moving his hands to your sides.

Ever so slowly helped you off of him with a quiet apology. The movement made the both of you groan, and you toppled at his side with a long exhale, back pressed against the backrest of the couch. You vaguely registered him getting up, moving towards the kitchen, and coming back after what seemed to be the blink of an eye - or maybe you’d simply dozed off.

“You okay?” he sat down next to you again, the couch definitely too small for you to be staying side by side, a glass of water in his hand. A grin made its way over your lips tiredly, and you lifted your head as he brought it closer to your face.

“See? Always so good to me,” you murmured once he moved back, his thumb running over your lips to collect the droplets of water. “I’m fine, just tired,” you reassured as he put the glass down blindly, his eyes never leaving you even as he lied down. You shifted half on top of him, enough so there was space for the both of you, chin resting on his chest where you left a quick peck. “Are you?”

“Are you kidding?” he scoffed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you closer, carefully locked against his side. “Never been better,” he kissed the top of your head, your forehead, fingers tracing lazy, mindless lines across the skin of your back.

You melted into him, his soothing touch, his now-so-familiar scent, the steadying rhythm of his heart. It slowly lulled you into a half-sleep state, Steve’s body relaxing as well.

“Steve?” you mumbled against his chest, and his hand stilled, head turning just barely as he hummed in response. “Don’t fall asleep on the couch, you’ll get a backache,” you warned, yet nestled closer to his side.

The couch was old - you’d experienced the pains a night on it brought one too many times.

“It’s okay, I’ll just be five minutes,” he reassured, resuming tracing patterns over your skin with the tip of his fingers. “Then I’ll be on my way, let you get some rest.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Harrington,” you scoffed, at last looking up towards him. His eyes were closed, his lips parted - still plump, still rosy, so kissable with his hair falling messily against his forehead. “Stay the night - let’s go to bed.”

He opened his eyes - his long lashes trembling against his cheeks before he did so, a light frown knitting his brow before he turned to look down towards you. He licked his lips, letting his hand move up the nape of your neck, guiding your head back.

“I thought you said no one’s allowed in your room,” he said, only half-teasingly.

“I said not just anyone,” you corrected, shifting up until you could brush your lips against his - just a mere brush, not chasing him, not letting him chase you. “You’re not just anyone.”

“You’re just trying to charge me extra,” he whispered in mock offense, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought off a smile. “First weed, then spending the night -” “The sex, too,” you pointed out with a grin of your own.

“Of course,” he nodded, gravely, and you chuckled, leaning in to kiss him once, gently, deep. Your hand came up to his face, cupping his jaw, thumb stroking his cheek before you pulled back and met his eyes.

“Stay,” you repeated, and then, lower, sweeter - “Please?”

“Just as long as you won’t sacrifice me to some forest deity,” he nodded, pulling you almost fully on top of him. And with a smile, you kissed him again. “No promises, Harrington.”