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kas-eddie-munson · 1 year

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(This is inspired by this fic by @withacapitalp ! ^^ I wanted to do my own take on Steve with OCD ^^)

Content warning for a panic attack, OCD, and intrusive thoughts involving gore!

~ ~ ~

Steve always hated knives.

Well, not ALWAYS.

He was about five or six, and his nanny was in the other room, talking on the phone. He asked her for a penut butter sandwich, but she told him to wait, that this was important. Maybe it had been five minutes, or maybe an hour. His child brain couldn't tell, could only tell that he was hungry.

So he started rooting through the cabinets. He knew where a lot of things were. He'd seen his nanny in here often enough. He managed to pull out a plate, bread, peanut butter, jelly. He grabbed a butter knife, the final instrument, and began to work.

Spreading peanut butter and jelly was harder than it looked. He got frustrated as the bread ripped, and the ingredients barely spread. Eventually, he decided it was good enough and closed the sandwich to take the crust off. He wasn't a big crust fan.

Cutting with a knife was difficult, too. He pressed hard and moved the knife back and forth, but it still didn't cut very well. It also made an obnoxiously loud scraping sound as he worked. He furrowed his brow in concentration.

Suddenly came the clack clack clack of his nanny's footsteps, and, well. She wasn't happy.

"Steve!"

Her eyes were bulging and she lurched forward, yanking the butter knife from his grip. His stomach dropped and he froze. She never talked to him like that.

"Be careful! Knives are too dangerous for boys your age to use without a grown-up! You could have hurt yourself," she set the knife far away on the table, as though its mere proximity was a threat, and crouched down to look at him at his level.

He still felt frozen as he nodded and mumbled apologies.

When Steve was a few years older, and another nanny taught him how to use a knife safely, he was always careful with it. He never cut towards his fingers, as instructed, and he turned the sharp part away from his plate when he set it down, just to be extra safe.

When puberty hit, he taught himself to shave. It was an ordeal, but a necessary one. He worked slowly and carefully. He made sure to push the razor to the very back of the shelf above the skink when he was done, so it was less likely to fall and cut his hands.

Then the upside down happened. He wouldn't notice until years later that his distaste for sharp objects was getting worse. He always made sure to grip the bat tightly when he held it. To be hyperaware of where it was, where it was pointing.

Then he was at work. It was a normal day, until it wasn't, and then he was in the boathouse. He was up against a wall. And there was glass. Sharp. Ragged.

Pressed into his neck.

Dangerous.

And his heart was pounding and he was pushing his head as hard against the wall as was humanly possible and his friends were talking in the background but he could hardly tell what they were even saying because, somewhere in the back of his mind, a dangerous voice whispered, move forward.

He blinked hard. Pushed even further away. What the hell was that? Did he have a death wish or something?

Then Eddie pulled back. And Steve had to shake it off and get back to business.

The next few days passed in a blur of adrenaline and fear. Vecna was dead, but Max was hurt so bad, and Eddie barely made it out alive, and Steve, wracked with guilt that maybe they'd be okay if he had done something different, guarded their hospital beds like he needed the air in those stuffy rooms to breathe.

He didn't sleep much, or eat much, or bathe much, for about four days, until Eddie woke up.

He hated it in there, as much as he knew he wouldn't want to be anywhere else in that moment. Too many sharp things. He often found his gaze drifting to the IV cords inserted into the crook of Max's elbow and the back of Eddie's hand respectively, and he'd clench his fists thinking about the needle.

It was day four when he was doing this, half-eaten cafeteria food to his right from Robin, that he found his gaze once again drawn to Eddie's IV.

Yank it out.

Steve wanted to leave the room. He shook his head a little. Blinked hard. Tried to dismiss the weird thought.

Why did he think that? What if he did that on accident? He didn't want to hurt Eddie. Never, even if he hadn't fought so hard to get him here, would he want to hurt him.

That's when Eddie finally blinked his eyes open and woke up.

They had a tearful reunion. Steve reassured him that the others were okay, that Vecna was gone. He walkied Dustin and the kids in Max's room to come over, and they crowded around him, with hugs and tears in their eyes.

Steve stood on the other side of the room to give them space. He smiled fondly as he watched them catch up. He almost bumped into a poll attached to Eddie's IV. His mind flashed with imagry of him pushing it to the ground and stomping on the cord.

He decided to wait in the hall until they were done.

---

Steve and Eddie start hanging out. A lot, actually. Steve can't shake the feeling that the alternate dimension stuff can't be over yet. When he's not at work, Eddie is over. When Eddie's not over, Robin is over. When they're both busy he's with the kids. He doesn't give his fear the time of day to seep in with how busy he makes himself scheduling movie nights and trips to the arcade.

He keeps getting scary thoughts. Some of them are... new, though.

Steve starts to wonder what it would be like to hold Eddie's hand.

Steve imagines putting Eddie's hand in his mouth and biting down, hard, as he screams.

Steve wants to nudge his foot under the table.

Images flash of kicking Eddie in the balls, him doubling over in pain.

Steve finds himself getting lost in his eyes.

His head is filled with visions of jamming his fingers down Eddie's eye sockets.

He tries not to examine the thoughts too closely. Just shakes them off. Still... he wonders. Where was all this coming from? And is he gay? He goes over old memories. He loves Robin, but it's still a scary thought. Among the other scary thoughts.

All the thoughts get more and more mixed up in his head. He can hardly tell which ones are real anymore.

One night Eddie's over, and they're watching a movie, alone. Steve doesn't even remember which. Mostly they watch long enough for something to happen that prompts further conversation, and they goof around, ignoring the movie until the topic runs its course.

Eddie is wearing a new shirt. The sides are cut open, further than most of his shirts. The angle he's sitting at has it falling open even more, and Steve keeps finding his gaze drawn there when Eddie's eyes are on the screen.

It isn't too dark in the room. They have a dim lamp on, and Steve's eyes have adjusted to the lighting. So he can see a lot of detail.

There are stitches.

Steve digs his nails into the palms of his hands as grotesque images flash through his mind, and the commands start.

Tear them out.

Use your fork like a seam ripper.

Jam your fingers inside and pry his skin apart.

Steve feels like he's about to vomit. He wants to cry. He just wants this to stop. He wants Eddie to leave and he wants Eddie to hold him and he doesn't want any of that but most of all he doesn't want to snap somehow and do any of those horrible things.

He clenches his fists harder and shoves everything down and focuses on the movie.

Steve wonders if the thoughts will ease up as Eddie's wounds heal, since a lot of them are about that.

They do not.

They leave for a walk in the woods. Eddie wants to gather a bunch of rocks. For what purpose, Steve does not know. Steve is charged with lugging the rock bag around, since his bites never went as deep and are much more healed now than Eddie's.

It's ridiculously hot outside. Steve is sure his hair looks like ass in the humidity. Eddie is sweating through his shirt. Steve doesn't mind that part.

They find an open clearing with what Eddie deems "an especially exquisite selection" of rocks. Steve doesn't think they look any different, but he just smiles. Unfortunately, the lack of tree coverage makes it even hotter.

"Hey big sports guy, catch," Eddie calls as Steve feels something hit his backpack. He looks behind him and sees black cloth lying on the ground. He leans down to pick it up, then looks up at Eddie a few yards away.

Eddie is flushed, chugging down water from a bottle, some of it dripping past his mouth and down his chin and torso. His bare chest is covered with tattoos and scar tissue. Most of the stitches have been removed, it seems. Steve feels his face heat up, and then he sees it.

One of the deeper bites is still stitched up, and he has a drain attached to it. No bag is hooked up right now, but the drain is there, under the skin, peeking out. Steve wonders how deep it goes. Flashing images of yanking it out start coming and he feels nauseous as Eddie clears his throat and Steve meets his eyes in horror.

"My eyes are up here, princess," Eddie says as he smirks.

Steve ducks his head and runs his fingers through his hair. God, he hopes Eddie can't tell what he's thinking. About either topic, really. Or maybe he doesn't mind too much, about the one.

He tries to look at him, but his eyes keep trying to snap to the drain, and he knows he needs that out of his sight, fast, before the thoughts get worse.

"Dude, that's not fair." He shakes his head, still ducked down and eyes anywhere but on Eddie, as he makes his way over.

Eddie laughs bright and loud, and he pulls at his curls. "What's not fair, exactly?"

He shoves the shirt back at Eddie's chest, fingers buzzing with something as they make contact briefly with the skin of his pec. Eddie stumbles back a step and his eyes are wide.

Steve leans close and makes eye contact. "If I'm not allowed to be shirtless, neither are you, big boy." He gives his chest two quick pats before turning around and walking back the direction they came. He calls "for your modesty!" over his shoulder. It takes a few seconds before he hears Eddie's footsteps start up behind him to follow.

Eddie tells him he supposes they collected enough rocks for the day, anyway. Steve notes that Eddie didn't put the shirt back on, but he has it draped over his shoulder, and it covers the drain that way too, so Steve doesn't bring it up again. As they chat and walk home, Steve thinks Eddie looks redder than he did before. He looks cute flustered.

Is he flustered? Steve hopes so. Why does he hope so? Steve thinks he knows if he's honest with himself, but he's also scared, so he continues to try not to think about it.

---

"Alright alright! Settle down! I'll be back with snacks in less than five minutes. If you nerds haven't made a decision by then, we're putting on my pick."

Steve rolls his eyes as he leaves the room and the kids' voices raise even higher in pitch, whining that his movies are always boring. The other "adults" chatter behind them on the sofa, as the kids crouch around Steve's VHS collection.

When Steve comes back, The Goonies' cover is flipped open on the floor, and the ads are starting up as the kids flip the lights and fight over the remote, messing with the volume and arguing about whether or not there was a skip button for the ads or if they just had to fast forward through them. He looks around, and his heart skips a beat as he realizes that the only seating choice left is to squish himself right next to Eddie.

Or Mike, but he was absolutely not sitting between him and Byers for two hours, or however long The Goonies was. He doubted they'd stay apart like that for long, anyway.

Eddie smirks at him from behind his hand as he sits down, their thighs pressing together, and Steve is glad it's dark in here because he's pretty sure he's blushing.

That's when he realizes what side he's sitting on. And he freezes.

Oh God.

Oh no.

This is the side with the drain.

It was touching him. It was touching him. It was right there. It was right there and if he moves the wrong way he'll hurt him. It'll catch on Eddie's shirt and he'll rip it out and blood will be everywhere.

Oh my God. He can't move, now. It would be weird. Where would he even go? He can't just sit on the floor.

Oh my God. What if he moves to leave and that's what does it. He's stuck here. He's stuck here indirectly touching the thing under Eddie's skin and his lungs feel smaller than they should and oh God he does NOT want to freak out in front of everyone.

He has to leave. He has to get out of here. How the hell can he leave???

Steve presses as hard as he can into the armrest and away from Eddie, scooting out of his seat, and looking back at Eddie's side to make sure it hasn't started to bleed. His eyes catch Eddie's and the man still on the sofa looks confused, still sitting comfortably against the back of the sofa with his arms crossed as Steve, as discreetly as possible, slips out of the room and up the stairs. He's suddenly grateful he's only wearing socks on his feet so his footsteps are quieter.

He gets upstairs and walks into his bedroom, shutting the door behind him, running his hands through his hair, and taking deep breaths. He runs through the last couple minutes in his head, when. Oh God.

Did he look closely enough? Was he sure Eddie wasn't bleeding? What if it started slow? What if he didn't notice until Steve left and now he's bleeding out? What if he's on some sort of numbing agent and he WON'T notice until he PASSES OUT because it's dark and Steve isn't 100% sure he didn't see blood and he knows he must look feral right now but he just has to go check just to be sure and

He opens his door again to a surprised Eddie, hand half held up like he was about to knock. Steve's eyes drop down to his side and back again.

"Hey, Steve. Are you alright? You looked a little woozy back there." Eddie asks, uncharicatistically softly. Steve realizes he must still look wild and tries to shake away the crazy eyes.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, no worries." He runs his hand through his hair again, realizes that makes him look more anxious, and drops it. His eyes flit back and forth between Eddie's eyes and his side, and then he keeps them steady on his eyes.

Eddie eyes him skeptically. "Mind if I join you for a minute?" He gestures in the room, and Steve steps aside. Eddie closes the door behind him.

"Steve, I'm not gonna lie. I'm worried about you, and I don't think I'm the only one." Eddie steps closer to him and places his hands on Steve's shoulders gently.

Steve racks his brain. "How do you know something's wrong? Wait, what do you mean? I'm fine." Steve tries to shrug and Eddie levels him with a look. Steve feels his lungs shrinking again, and his eyes sting.

Eddie moves his hands up and down his arms a little. "Steve, you've been acting off for weeks. Flighty? You almost never sit next to me anymore. Basically the whole room conspired against you today. Is... did I do something? Did you," Eddie furrows his brows, and shakes his head, "did you, hear something about me?"

Steve shakes his head, very confused. He wasn't even actively avoiding sitting next to Eddie. How did he not notice he was doing that??? What else is he doing without noticing?

Eddie rubs his shoulders again. "Hey, hey, it's okay. Breathe for me. Slowly. Try to breathe."

Steve does try to breathe slower, and sinks to the floor. Eddie follows him, and talks to him as he tries to calm down.

"Stevie, you need to tell somebody what's going on so we can help you."

Steve shakes his head vehemently.

"Why not? I'm not going to force you, but. I'm not gonna judge you or anything. You're my friend, Steve."

Steve looks into Eddie's eyes and sees nothing but sincerity. He isn't sure what he'd see if he told him the truth.

"I don't think you wanna know," Steve says softly.

Eddie bites his lips and looks away for a second. "Are you scared?" Steve nods. Eddie looks back, nods, and looks away again.

"Look, Steve, if it makes you feel better, if you tell me the scary thing, then I'll tell you something scary, too." Eddie looks back at him, lip still between his teeth.

Steve feels something warm inside, and he smiles the tiniest bit. "You don't have to do that, Eds. I. I just," Steve takes a big breath. "I don't want you to hate me. Or be scared."

Eddie shakes his head and looks off into space again. "I kinda doubt my thing is the same as your thing, but either way. Steve, I don't think you can do anything to make me hate you. You're one of my best friends, Steve."

Steve isn't sure that's true, but he leans his head back against the wall. His breathing is more even now, and the tears have slowed. He thinks for a minute.

"I -" he closes his eyes, "I get these. These..." He tries to come up with how to word it. Eddie looks at him with the kindest eyes Steve's maybe ever seen, and he braces himself. "I get these words in my head?" Eddie tilts his head slightly, looking confused, but no less kind and patient. "Like. Someone is telling me to do something I don't want to do?"

Eddie's eyes widen. "Oh. Oh Steve. I'm so sorry. I, I think my aunt had something like that. Do you, do you see things sometimes? Things that other people don't see?"

Steve shakes his head again. He actually laughs a little in surprise.

"No! No, not like that. Not like, halucinations. Like. The thoughts are me. But they're not me? Like, they're the things that I would least ever actually want to do, but they just get stuck there? And they won't shut up? They're like, opposite thoughts. Like I think the opposite of the thing I want to do, and then I don't want to do it so badly but it still is just like stuck there repeating because I don't want to do it so badly?"

He looks at Eddie, who seems contemplative.

"Can I ask what the thoughts are about, Steve?"

He shakes his head.

"No. It's bad, Eddie. It's so weird, and gross. Like," he takes a big breath and continues, "they're about people getting hurt, Eds. People I care about. I just," he starts to cry again, looks at Eddie. "What if I do it on accident? What if I like. What if I hurt you, Eds? I don't want to; I'd never want to, but what if I did? On accident?"

He starts sobbing again. Steve feels Eddie's hands cup his cheeks, brushing away tears with his thumbs. He's honestly kind of surprised Eddie's still here. He probably shouldn't have said that much.

"Steve. I trust you. So much, Steve. I know you would never hurt me. And I can't say I know what's going on in your head, but I know you. You're Steve! You save people! You don't hurt them. And you won't hurt me."

Steve melts into Eddie's hands. He isn't sure Eddie's right, but he knows one thing. He cares about this man, so much.

"Thank you." He puts his hands on top of Eddie's. "Thank you, Eds." Eddie smiles at him, but looks close to tears himself.

"Did you, did you want to talk about it? Your thing?"

Eddie's smile falters. "I don't want to make it about me, but I suppose I did say I would. Do you want to hear it?"

Steve nods. "If you want to tell me."

Eddie nods. "Okay. Well." He closes his eyes. Nods again. "I'm gay, Steve."

Steve's heart skips a beat. "Oh my God." He's suddenly aware that their hands are still on his face. "Eds. I think I'm gay too."

Eddie's eyes widen. His mouth opens, then closes.

Steve's not sure exactly what comes over him, but he leans forward and presses their lips together. Eddie kisses back.

They talk more about it, later. About the thoughts. Steve isn't exactly sure why, but just knowing that Eddie knows, and doesn't hate him, helps. And there are times when the thoughts are better, and the thoughts are worse. But knowing Eddie's on his side makes it a bit better.

~~~

Thanks for reading this!!! If anyone doesn't know a lot about OCD but is curious about Steve's presentation, here's some more info:

(He has Harm OCD, so you can also just google that, but this is a p thorough intro ^^)

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mars-the-witch · 2 years

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When you try to write a short Steve centric Steddie fic about your OCD and accidentally trigger yourself working out one of the details and basically have a panic/anxiety attack but midway through not being able to breathe right, you write down the details abt said panic/anxiety attack in your notes app bcs you can never fucking remember them after the fact and you wanna get that good content as fresh as possible so your fic can be authentic af:

#steve harrington #Steve Harrington has ocd #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #can you tell im mentally ill #we got the ocd! adhd! anxiety! and autism! up in this bitch #it’s me #i’m the bitch #Steve Harrington is also the bitch #can you tell I love to project <3

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yellowroseswrites · 2 years

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Writing Requests / Rules

Hi ! I'm Kae, and I write comfort fics ! This is my comfort fic/vent account, my main account is @rosesareyellowtoo !

I write mostly things that include triggering content! Bc I for one always look for fics as a way of coping, so I wanted to be a safe place for any requests that others may be uncomfortable with. (which is totally valid don't go hating people just bc the won't write triggering things. it's literally triggering. ok thx)

Here are my like. rules and things.

Who I write for -

-HP- Ron Weasley Draco Malfoy Cedric Diggory Fred Weasley George Weasley Mattheo Riddle Theodore Nott Lorenzo Berkshire Blaise Zabini

-MARAUDERS- Basically everyone!

-ST- Steve Harrington Eddie Munson Jonathan Byers Robin Buckley [x fem/gn only] Nancy Wheeler

-MARVEL- Bucky Barnes Peter Parker Matt Murdock Loki Laufeyson

-CM- Spencer Reid Derek Morgan Aaron Hotchner

-OBX- JJ Maybank Rafe Cameron

-9-1-1- Evan Buckley

-Hunger Games-* Peeta Mellark Finnick Odair Haymitch Abernathy

I only write x reader fics !!

I write all genders, but I'm more comfy with x fem!

*for hunger games reqs, i will not write about the games themselves/anything inside an arena. I'm fine with trauma from previous games tho, or just general comfort that isn't related to the games!

What I'm willing to write-

. sh

. eating disordered things

. addiction problems

. intrusive thoughts

. su!c!dal thoughts

. ocd!reader

. adhd!reader

. depression and everything that goes with that

. anxiety

. s3x addiction/p0rv addiction

.ov3rs3xualizing issues

.rape/sa and the ptsd from it

. ptsd

.nightmares

. any fluff and hurt/comfort

. also im willing to do angst, im just better at hurt/comfort

What im NOT willing to write-

. Nothing really, If I get a request I'm not comfy with I'll be sure to update !

When you send an ask for a fic, please just make sure to be as specific as possible! any little detail you want specified, just write it. I promise, details in asks will never bother me.

Stay safe, drink water, love you all <3

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detachedfacade · 1 year

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Steve's house was quiet, seemed almost empty, but for the cat wandering through the back yard, chirping at the birds in the trees. Eddie crouched by the fence, called the cat over. She trotted to him, rubbed up against his legs, purred as he scratched her chin. He heard a car rumble, tires rolling over gravel out the front. Eddie slipped back into the thick of the trees, the cat following after him, cloying at his jeans. He jostled her off, shushed her mewing with pets as he attempted to peer through the gate at the right angle to see who had pulled up. The heavy weight of thick boots came down on the gravel, Eddie shrunk into himself, tried to search for Steve in his bedroom window, wondered what he must be feeling, hoped they hadn't started any therapy yet. Eddie's heart was thundering in his chest, his palms sweaty he wiped them on his jeans. He couldn't let history repeat itself, couldn't let what happened to Brad happen to Steve too. The guilt was already too much to deal with, the added pressure of barely surviving horrors beyond comprehension only adding fuel to his fears. They had made it out, they had made it out holding hands and having hope, and every day since he woke up in that hospital bed the hope had been knocked back. His nightmares hadn't helped, the tortures he'd endured reimagined in his slumbers, where he was again trapped with demons chewing at his flesh, with loved ones cracking open in the air. And trapped in his unconscious he watches, helpless again.

Awake he does all he can to keep in control. He began keeping timings, running notes of his and Wayne's daily routines. When and where Wayne gets to, how long before he's back. He writes about the guards and the other tenants. He puts his meds into alphabetical order, into chronological order, into colour order. And then he crushes them, sprinkles them into the plant pots, knows they only make his mind more fuzzy, makes him feel less in control.

Crouched in the Harrington's garden he counts backwards from eight. Seven six five four three two one. He pulls out a blade of grass from the ground. Eight seven six five four three two one. Another blade. He tells himself Steve will be fine, Steve will be fine. He counts backwards. He counts backwards.

read more on ao3

#eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #gay eddie munson #angsty steddie #ocd #ptsd

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zhanmusimai · 2 years

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in my mind steve harrington has ocd and thats why hes like that

#also an eating disorder but thats my more niche and personal one #eating disorder cw in the tags #and as a dad i think hed be the ocd helicopter parent to make up for absent parents #steve harrington #stranger things #mine

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shieldofiron · 1 year

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Meals on Wheels

(Harringrove, just a flirty little drabble for @disabledbillyandsteveweek day 2 prompt-Family)

Steve thought it was maybe the stupidest thing he’d ever thought of. He and Robin had been having a sleepover and somehow the subject got around to tattoos.

“I would get a pin up girl but that might be tacky,” Robin sighed.

“As far as I’m concerned, the tackier the better,” Steve rolled up to his countertop and poured another glass of wine.

“Oh yeah, what are you getting? A nail bat?”

“Only if it says ‘who wants to get nailed,’” Steve snarled.

“What about a tramp stamp?” Robin took the glass of wine and sipped it. “Eat me.”

Steve thew a saucy look over his shoulder, dripping with king Steve charm, “Please. Look at me. It would say meals on wheels.”

Robin giggled, “Yeah, as long as we’re getting tattoos of wishful thinking I should get one on my hand that says, ‘Pussy destroyer.’”

“‘M just in a dry spell.”

“Yeah, okay,” Robin rolled her eyes, “Would you actually get ‘Meals on Wheels?’”

“Eat fast, eat fresh,” Steve quipped. “I’ll do it if you do, Madam Pussy Destroyer.”

Robin giggled loopily, “You know I did see an article about a tattoo parlor that specializes in sensory safe tattoos.”

“What’cha mean?” Steve wasn’t drunk, but he was a little tipsy on their good fortune in securing a wheelchair accessible apartment this close to the city center. Sure, a lot of rent had to come from their was Starcourt hush money, after Steve been paralyzed and a flayed Jonathan Byers has saved the world, but they he still found it and so Steve was happy to fork over the cash. The location was ideal, even if the city noise sometimes wrecked havoc on Robin’s sensory issues so they’d installed some extra sound proofing. But he wasn’t sure how a tattoo parlor was a part of that.

“It’s super cool, the owner has OCD so he made it so each room is private and soundproofed. They don’t play loud music, and offer headphones if the buzzing is too much, though you can bring your own movies. I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but some of those places are just too loud and busy,” Robin sighed.

“So you’ve always wanted to be a pussy destroyer?”

“No, shut up,” she blushed. “A Lilly, for my grandma.”

“Well maybe tomorrow we can go check it out.

“I wouldn’t want to do it alone.” She bit her lip. “I wouldn’t have the guts.”

Steve shrugged, “ok, you convinced me. It’s tramp stamp time.”

“No, you’re not serious,” Robin giggled.

“You’re my family. If you bleed, I bleed. You tramp stamp, I tramp stamp,” Steve said, only laughing when Robin did.

But then the next morning, his head pounding, he didn’t have too many defenses when Robin had looked at him with those puppy dog eyes and said she’d called and made them an appointment. She’d even brought in his motorized wheelchair and said that she’d buy bagels on the way.

But he was regretting it when they were finally there, and Steve was contemplating actually getting something permanently inked into his skin.

He wasn't sure if he was cool enough for this. He definitely wasn't cool enough for the artist that came in and introduced themselves to Robin. Their name was Eddie and they were practically covered in tattoos, wearing some cool unpronounceable band name t-shirt that they'd sewn to a mini tutu skirt to make a dress. They took Robin back to her room after they went over her sketch, a lilly painted with pale watercolor shades.

Robin squeezed his hand, "You're not gonna chicken out on me, right? I booked the only two person room they have so if you don't show up, I will know."

"I'm not chickening out," Steve laughed, "Though I hope your grandma isn't watching from heaven, because she'll probably see my ass."

Robin snorts, "She definitely saw your ass this morning when I helped you out of the shower. She was a tough old bird, a little of your pale ass won't scare her."

Steve snorted, "I'll see you in a moment."

Steve was starting to feel a little nervous. Honestly after Starcourt, he hadn't been interested in hiding his sexuality at all. Life seemed too short, he might as well unapologetically be himself, bi and disabled and ADHD and slutty and everything that was himself. But maybe the double entendre tramp stamp was a little too out there.

And then... he'd come in.

"Hi, Steve, right?" The guy was stunning, with long blonde curls streaked with blue piled up into a big bun on the top of his head. He offered a large, warm hand and Steve almost melted when they shook.

"Yeah, hi."

"I'm Billy, I'm the owner," Billy smiled, and Steve swore that he could see a cartoon smile, like Billy was an anime prince. An anime prince that had a giant seratonin tattoo that was splattered with that looked like watercolor. "I hope you don't mind that I use some hand sanitizer. I'm working on my handshake thing, but..."

"It's fine, ah... do you mind if I have some too?" Steve held out his hand.

Billy squirted Steve out a little of their fancy hand sanitizer.

"So I have to be honest, I wasn't sure what to expect when we got the call for a wheelchair themed tramp stamp that said meals on wheels," Billy licked along his lower lip, "But now that I'm seeing you it makes more sense."

Steve could feel himself turning red, "It was kind of a joke-"

"I mean," Billy leaned in, "You do look good enough to eat."

Steve shivered, blush spreading up to his hairline.

Billy straightened, "God, sorry. Sorry, that was so inappropriate-"

"It's fine."

"No, really, I can see if Heather is free to take over the appointment, except that-" Billy bit his lip, "I think I'll still have to be the one to help you onto the table. Maybe if Eddie and Heather work together... God, not that you're like... too big or... shit... I'm sorry."

Steve laughed, "Really, it's fine."

"You're not too big, you're like... perfect," Billy ran a hand down his face, "Sorry. I'm sorry. Chrissy should know she can't give me the pretty guys, I clearly can't handle it."

Steve glanced up, giving him that King Steve sparkle right back, and seeing the way it made Billy's eyes go wide and nervous.

Steve pressed on the joystick to his chair with one finger, running a hand along the tip flirtatiously.

Billy's eyes darted to his hand, and then back to his face.

"I think you can handle me," Steve said smugly, "Don't you wanna try?”

Steve left that day with a bit of a sore ass, though the sensation was soothed a lot by the business card that had Billy's personal number scrawled on the back.

"I can't believe the meals on wheels tattoo got you a date," Robin rolled her eyes as she attached Steve's chair to the floor of his van, tightening the straps down with a shake of her head.

"What can I say," Steve shrugged, "Billy looks like a hungry boy to me."

Robin gagged, "You are my family. But never, ever, say that again."

@intothedysphoria thanks for answering my question on this one.

#disabledbillyandsteveweek #disabled steve harrington #wheelchair user steve harrington #OCD Billy Hargrove #i adore them #harringrove #harringrove ficlet #and some adorable platonic disabled stobin whats not to love

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sattlersquarry · 2 years

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my the yellow wallpaper era continues.

today’s mood: I wanna rip my brain out of my skull and toss it around like a volleyball to get the intrusive thoughts to stop

#about to write a Steve harrington fanfic where the reader has ocd so I can project my problems and feel marginally better #personal posts abt mental illness will be tagged with #libby and the yellow wallpaper #so you can filter that tag if you’re here for stranger things and don’t care about this stuff lol

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yourfavoritewitchbitch · 2 months

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Chapter 5 - Clandestine Meetings

A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)

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Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Every interaction has finally led you to this moment, straight into the arms of the man you love.

18+ Only! Minors DNI! (Smut and Mature themes)

CW: Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove." Infidelity (reader is married). Dirty talk. Smut! Oral (Female receiving). Fingering. Big Dick!Steve. Protected P in V. Hint of a breeding kink (for both reader and Steve).

WC: 8.4K

The hours ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace while sitting in your room waiting for the first trace of light to filter through the curtains so you could sneak back out. You sat alternating between chewing your nails and ringing your hands.

Your only consuming thought was getting back to the office to gain access to your phone and warn Steve.

At least waiting for morning didn't make it quite as suspicious. It would be under the guise that you needed to make sure the space was properly cleaned and organized for business as usual come Monday.

It wasn't unusual. Nik knew you were meticulous, if not a little OCD regarding the gallery. He wouldn't bat an eye your way. At least you hoped so, after what you had overheard on your way in, you had to be extra vigilant.

When those first beams of light finally trickled in, you were off, not bothering to alert your driver or anyone else in the house, grabbing the keys to your cherry red convertible that Nik had purchased for you when you'd returned from your honeymoon.

It was one present you were now thankful for, the only vehicle in the house you had exclusive access to.

You quickly went to the garage and got behind the wheel, starting the engine and initiating the automatic garage door.

Nik watched you from his second-floor window with disdain and contempt, immediately phoning one of his many goons to make sure they followed you. Lucky for you they would have nothing useful to report back to him today.

You raced across town feeling as though you were against some sort of impending countdown.

It was early but you hoped Steve was already up as you sent your text.

6:20 AM: Please call me.

Simple. Effective. The phone rang within 30 seconds.

“What's wrong?” He asked before you had the chance to speak, sounding a little winded. “I'll be there in 10 minutes.”

“No, no. Steve. I'm fine.” You assured him, an audible sigh of relief was heard on the other end of the line. “It's you I'm worried about. When I came home last night, Nik was speaking with the boogeyman. Have you heard of him?”

There was a pause, his mind silently letting it register who you were referring to while choosing his next words carefully to not alarm you in any sort of way.

“I have. What did you hear?”

“Nik said he wanted to have him on standby. It doesn't sound like he's planning anything right away, but it's Nik. Any little thing could set him off.” You felt yourself getting worked up as you took a ragged breath. “Steve, I— I can't—”

“Dove, listen to my voice. Take a deep breath for me, tesoro. It's just you and me right now.”

You focused solely on his calm demeanor, yet commanding tone as you inhaled and then let out a deep exhale like he asked.

“Better?” He questioned.

“Better.” You parroted, a small smile finally gracing your features.

“Good, now let's avoid trying to give me a heart attack first thing in the morning, yeah?” You could hear the relief in his voice as he spoke. He was ready to leave the house at a moment's notice for you. He'd been prepared for all kinds of scenarios, hoping for best but always prepared for the worst.

“I can't promise, but I'll try to save the dramatics for a more reasonable hour.” You laughed, as the rest of your trepidation further slipped away. He had a way of doing that. Making you feel completely calm and safe.

“I'll come by tomorrow, if that's alright.” He took a seat at his desk and leaned back in his plush leather chair with another sigh.

“Of course, but I'm fine. Truly. I just needed to let you know.” I needed to hear your voice.

“I know, Dove. I just want to come by to see my girl.” The words came out so easily, he didn't even notice when they slipped out. In his mind, you were always his.

“Your girl, huh?” You grinned to yourself.

“Always, tesoro mio. Stay safe and say hello to your father for me.”

“My father?”

“It's Sunday, no? That was always a tradition in your house. Don't tell me you don't do that anymore.” Something Steve had always longed for. A family that actually cared enough for one another to have dinner once a week. He craved that kind of closeness with his own family some day.

“Of course, it's just— nothing, it doesn't matter. I'll see you tomorrow, amore mio.”

Amore mio. Your parting words had him over the moon. You were still his, in every way. He had a few more surprises for you in the days to come and he couldn't wait to share them with you.

He suddenly felt like a teenager again. Sneaking around so his father wouldn't find you together, except this time the stakes were much higher. He knew the dangers, but you were more than worth it.

The truth you didn't want to tell Steve was that you hadn't made lunch plans with your father. Not since the day he shed light on everything that he knew.

You had been keeping him at an arm's length. Texting him instead of calling him. Avoiding any face-to-face interactions if at all possible. It wouldn't last forever but right now it's what you needed.

He respected your decision, but he was hurting too. His only child going from devoted daughter to almost completely ignoring him gave him immediate whiplash, but deep down he knew he deserved it. After that day, he vowed to make everything right.

He was prepared to follow through, whatever the cost. He wasn't about to lose the only light he had left in his miserable life.

The day was open to possibilities, rarely staying at home anymore unless some sort of “wifely” duty was called for, but even that was becoming less frequent. You suspected Nik wanted nothing to do with you at this point.

It did worry you, but at the same time there was a huge sense of relief.

It was a beautiful, sunshine filled day. A walk around the park to clear your head and get some fresh air was high on the agenda.

You found an empty park bench close to the playground to read for a while.

The breeze was warm, spring would soon usher in summer, as children laughed and carried on around you. The book you tried to read, long forgotten sitting closed beside you.

You let yourself imagine for a moment what it would be like to be nothing more than a woman sitting at a bench who was free to do as she pleased, not chained to a life she was born into but one that was all her own.

Given the chance, you could walk away but the man you loved could never have that luxury. Deep down you know that he would have tried to make your life as normal as possible because it's what you had always wanted.

A simple dream of being a wife and someday a mother almost seemed too out of reach but when you looked at him you could still picture it all perfectly. You were both like minded, sharing the same dreams and goals. It has always been that way.

A child screamed in the distance, knocking you from your daydream. It was getting late in the afternoon as you packed your things and headed back home for the day.

You'd been expecting him all morning.

“Excuse me, miss?” He asked toward you and your assistant, Abigail turned as you bit your lip, hiding the smile that threatened to give you away all too easily.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harrington. How can…” Your assistant began, but you quickly cut it, relieved to see him again.

“That's okay, Abigail. I'll see this gentleman.” She nodded and quickly dashed away.

He had turned back to a sculpture that had just made it to the floor, hands clasped behind his back seemingly studying it as you walked up standing beside him.

“Quite exquisite, no?” You asked.

“It's well, it's…” he tilts his head, eyes roving down and back up your body instead. “I would say breathtaking.”

“Is that so, Mr. Harrington?” You finally meet his gaze, soft hazel eyes focused solely on you as he studies your face.

You didn't want to break the trance, but it was beginning to feel suffocating being in this close proximity to him.

You swallowed thickly before looking away from him, cheeks flushing pink. You'd hope he hadn't noticed.

“So, does anything catch your eye?” Simply referring to the art.

“Absolutely. But what I want is sadly unavailable.” He whispered; you hadn't noticed when he'd inched closer; his woodsy scented cologne suddenly surrounding you.

You met his eyes, as he tucked his bottom lip briefly between his teeth drawing your attention back to his pouty lips.

“I would love nothing more than to take her home. Show her all the ways I've missed her, wishing I could take it all back.” Your body felt like it was being pulled toward him, as his eyes drifted to your lips.

“Steve, I—” It came out almost pained, as you released a breath you'd been holding.

“I told you once if this is too much, I'll stop. Just tell me what YOU need.”

Need. Not want. As if he already knew.

“I need room to breathe. I need the love and affection I so desperately crave. I need freedom.” Your eyes checked the room before stepping closer and whispering to him. “And most of all, I need you.”

“I'm working on that.” He replied, a small twinkle in his eye. He was up to something.

“I trust you are, but right now, Mr. Harrington, I need to get back to work.”

“Of course, I'll leave you to it.” He reached for you, fingertips grazing lightly across your skin before pulling your hand up tenderly to his lips placing a small kiss to the back of your hand; squeezing lightly before letting it rest back at your side.

The moment his lips touched your skin your mind went blank. You stare at him unblinking for a moment more before he smiles.

“Arrivederci, my dove.” He turned, leaving you to trail after him.

Steve would stop at nothing to keep you safe and make you his once more. He was ready to play the long game and he knew he'd win; family or husbands be damned. He knows who your heart truly belongs to just as he knows his has always belonged to you.

You had a habit of leaving your burner out in the afternoon while you finished working.

Sometimes he would text or call, knowing you were still at the office. You checked it after taking a small break.

921-987-5555 5:38PM: Tesoro, I left a few things unsaid this afternoon. Are you free to talk?

Sent 6:09 PM: Of course.

The phone began to buzz a few moments later.

“Mr. Harrington?” You asked.

“Ms. Alexander, it would be a pleasure to have you accompany me for dinner tomorrow evening.” He stated.

“Ste—” releasing a heavy sigh, as he interrupted.

“Ah, ah I know what you're going to say, but just listen. I have a place just around the corner from your gallery. It'll just be you and I, away from prying eyes.” Pausing a moment to light a cigarette between his lips letting what he had just said sink in for a moment. The two of you. Alone.

“What do you say? I'll show you those cooking skills and make us a nice dinner.” Taking a large drag, giving you the moment to speak.

“I— I'll think about it. It's—”

“Hey, don't worry about those goons or the goddamn Boogeyman. You deserve a night without worries. I want to give you that at least. Just think about it. Please?” He chimed in, as your mind began to drift with the possibilities.

“Okay.” You replied softly. “I'll think about it.”

“Good girl.” He purred, leaning back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk. If his father could see him now, he'd likely kill him. “Take the night, Dove. Think it over.”

And you had been thinking it over. The last four hours lying in bed staring at the ceiling. It all felt like a fever dream. It was happening so fast yet taking its time.

You began to relive that moment from the gala over and over, always wishing and hoping for more. This was your chance.

You suddenly began aching with need at the thought of finally being alone with him, imagining his large hands roaming your body. His lips trailing soft kisses. His mouth, exploring and tasting you.

Your fingertips slipped past the waistband of your satin sleep shorts until they swirled along your clit, dipping further to your entrance as images of the two of you tangled together danced behind your eyelids. It didn't take very long for your orgasm to build at the thought of him filling you completely, remembering vividly what his cock looked and felt like.

He was bigger than anyone you'd been with since, not only long but thick with a prominent vein that ran down the underside almost from base to tip. You could picture the way he stretched you open with just his head, working you down his length little by little while whispering sweet praises in your ear.

“Steve.” You whispered out, breathy and high, working yourself as your fingers tried to reach that sweet spongy spot inside you. Your clit was throbbing, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you came harder than you had in a long time, picturing him telling you what a good job you'd done.

You slept easy that night.

It was never a choice. Your mind has been made up since the first time you had laid eyes on him again. It was time to take a leap.

Once you'd reached the office, you sent him a simple text stating, “when and where?”

It was followed quickly with an answer. His driver would be parked around back at 7 PM.

Your nerves were high, and your heart was pounding, excitement more than anything fueling your body.

When you locked up the driver was already outside waiting for you just as Steve had instructed, opening the door for you.

“For you miss.” Announcing when you got closer, handing you a small manila envelope. You hold it close as you sit down. “We don't have far to go, but do you need anything?”

“No, thank you.” Replying as he nodded and closed the door. No doubt under Steve's explicit instructions to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

The envelope has a little weight to it, you noted while opening it. No letter, you flipped it over as a brass key fell into your hand with a small slip of paper.

Top floor. Apartment 3.

Take the elevator, it's the last door on the left.

This was it. It felt like everything had been leading up to this moment and your life was about to change. If only you knew how true that would be after tonight.

The driver stopped about a block away at a smaller, but well-maintained apartment complex. Very low key. Your head swiveled, eyes looking over your shoulder for any hint of being followed.

“That key will open the main door; the apartment should be unlocked.” Tipping his hat as you exited the vehicle and walked the couple of stairs up to the front.

The interior was nice, recently updated with fresh paint and new flooring. The elevator was adjacent to the door, you entered and pressed 5 as it began to ascend.

You shifted, tapping your foot in time with each beat of your heart for the short ride up, as the door slid open revealing an equally empty hallway.

You took a deep breath, stepping out, immediately noticing a large, very intimidating gentleman posted by the stairwell. He spoke into an earpiece as you walked past him, otherwise ignoring your presence.

Steve has enough security stationed at various strategic points that no one could get within a fifty-foot radius of the two of you tonight.

Face to face with the cream-colored door adorned with the brass 3, you wondered if you should knock but dismissed the silly notion because he was expecting you, after all.

You slowly turned the matching brass knob, letting the door swing open slightly.

The intoxicating aroma of rosemary and garlic wafted through the air to meet you, pushing the door open so you could slip in.

It was a smaller apartment, the entrance situated inside the kitchen. His back was turned, humming to himself, as he chopped some fresh herbs.

His black dress shirt sleeves were rolled up his forearms, with a towel slung over his shoulder, still dressed in his expensive trousers and Italian loafers. He almost seemed completely out of place but at the same time, exactly where he should be.

Closing the door softly, you lean against the wall taking in the sight. He looks completely domesticated and it immediately feels like home.

For a few moments, you can imagine that this is your life. The life you were meant to have. Coming home to him each night. A loving, and caring man that had only had your best interests at heart. You craved these kinds of intimate moments.

He finished chopping and tossed the leafy greens into a pot of simmering sauce on top of the stove.

“There's a bottle of wine and a glass for you on the table.” He spoke, taking a spoon to stir in his newly added ingredients. “I know merlot isn't your favorite, but it pairs well with the meal.”

“Merlot is fine Steve. You'll find my tastes have changed somewhat.” Tossing your purse to the open counter beside you.

“Is that so?” He raised a brow toward you, looking over his shoulder before turning his attention back to his spoon raising it to his lips to have a small taste.

“That is so, Mr. Harrington.” You grinned, pouring your wine as you looked over the label, but it was from an Italian vineyard you hadn't heard of.

“Need any help with that?” Asking as you stepped closer to him.

“Now, what kind of host would I be if I let you lift a finger? Hmmm?” Pulling the towel from his shoulder, wiping his hands and tossing it to the counter before turning his attention fully to you. He found his own glass, eyeing you appreciatively over the rim as he took a sip.

“You look nice today.” Saying as an almost afterthought, eyes trailing down and back up. You were wearing a maroon silk button up, paired with a simple black skirt, sheer black hosiery and matching heels. Normal work attire.

“As opposed to any other day?” You giggled, sipping on the rich wine, noting hints of blackberry and subtle dark chocolate when the liquid splashed along your tastebuds.

“Tesoro,” he states, setting his wine down and taking a few steps to close the gap between you as you follow his lead, setting your own glass down. His hands come to rest on either side of your hips, your own landing on his chest, as you look up at him with bemused curiosity.

“You look beautiful, EVERY day.” He was crowding your space, invading your senses. A tingling, buzzing feeling began to hum beneath your skin. He was so close when he spoke his warm breath fanned across your cheek.

“You don't see me everyday.” You remarked, eyes trained on his, subtly shifting to his lips and back up.

“Don't remind me.” He huffed, his hold drifting to your lower back, pressing you closer still.

You were suddenly hungry for something other than food, as you bit your lower lip, looking up at him as if he'd hung the moon with stars in your eyes. You could feel the heat of his body radiating between the thin layers of fabric separating you, your own heat just beginning to pool between your thighs.

“Oh, wait.” Remembering what you had bought earlier in the day, reluctantly pulling from his grasp.

You reached your purse, noticing the rings still adorning your left hand. Pausing a moment, you pulled them off, slipping them into a side compartment. You weren't a Petrov tonight, pushing all thoughts of Nik aside.

It was just you and Steve.

“Here!” You pulled a box out, tossing it toward his chest. He caught it easily, looking down with a puzzled look.

“Condoms?” He quirked his brow up at you.

“Uh, we can't be too careful right now. As much as I would love for you to— um” you giggled, turning away from him briefly, suddenly feeling shy under his questioning gaze.

“Fuck you raw?” He finished with a salacious grin that had you blushing like a schoolgirl. “Like we haven't done that before?” He huffed an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah, well, Nonna Vittoria made sure we were covered back then, Steve. I haven't taken birth control since I got married.” You sucked in your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes. “If I remember correctly, your pullout game was terrible.”

His mouth fell open slightly, with a small gasp that had you laughing out. Nerves slowly melting away with the lighthearted banter.

“That isn't my fault. IF I remember correctly, you were the one always begging for it.” His hands drifted to his hips as he shot you a playful glare.

“Steven! I did not! We have to be careful until…” You looked away again, suddenly feeling shy once more. A silly notion.

“Until?” He questions further, taking a step into your space.

“Just until, well— we're together.”

“Are we not together?” His hand cups the nape of your neck, as the other drifts to your hip pulling you into him. You toy with his collar before looking into his honey hued irises that seemed to draw you in.

“You know what I mean, Steve. I can't exactly be fucking you without some sort of plan.”

“Wait, is that why you're here?” He looks around the room, as if confused. “I thought I was just making us a nice dinner.”

“Stop!” You whine out, slapping his chest, squirming slightly to step away from his grasp but he holds firm.

“Where do you think you're going, huh?” He asks, leaning in, the tip of his nose nudging yours. “I'm not letting you go.”

“Promise?” Tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes.

“I promise, tesoro mio.”

He leans in, his lips meeting yours with a needy and raw excitement. Intense in all the best ways but you needed more. You were hungry, licking at his mouth. Tongues meeting in a messy crescendo, tasting each other, as if it were the first time all over again, nerves suddenly giving away to butterflies dancing at your ribs.

Your hands began pawing at his chest, gripping the fabric of his starchy, black dress shirt. Fingers finding the buttons and making quick work of them.

“No interruptions this time?” You breathe out, pulling slightly away from him, pushing his shirt open, as he grips the bottom to move it free from his slacks and lets it peel away from his body leaving him in his undershirt.

“No. Fuck no. He's under strict orders not to bother us.” His lips find your jaw.

A small giggle quickly turns into a breathy moan as hot, open mouth kisses trail down your neck then to your collarbone. The fabric of your top hangs loosely around your shoulder as he starts to suck lightly, eliciting a moan from the sensation. He has to stop himself from leaving a mark, placing another kiss there instead.

He unlatches his lips momentarily to look you in the eyes, already blown full of lust.

“I thought instead of going at it on top of your desk, you deserve a proper bed. A proper fuck.”

His nimble fingers begin unbuttoning your top, moving slowly as he speaks again, savoring the way your body tenses at his movements.

“I want to take my time. Worship you, the way you deserve.” He reaches the last button, pulling it away from your skirt and lets the silk drift open, revealing a lacy black bra underneath. The cooler air hitting your skin makes you shiver slightly.

His hand comes to cradle your jaw. The affection you've come to crave, a foreign concept to you as you melt into his touch.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, the feeling makes your eyes flutter closed. Your teeth graze his thumb pad when he pushes slightly past your lips, before your tongue darts out swirling the tip of his digit, taking him into your mouth and sucking.

He groans out, suddenly pulling away, and wrapping his arms back around you.

“Fuck. My dirty girl.” He grits out, hands reaching the fat of your ass pushing you flush to his hips, his fingers gather the fabric of your skirt in his hands with aching length pressed into your lower stomach. The anticipation was suddenly overwhelming. You needed him like you needed air to breathe.

“Steve,” you manage before he dips down and captures your lips again, as if reading your mind. His palms cup your ass and hoists you up on the counter situated behind you, making you squeak out in surprise as your heels slide from your feet with a thud onto the tile floor below.

You grip his shirt as he shifts forward, wrapping your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up when you grind your hips forward searching for any kind of friction to alleviate the prominent ache between your legs, finding his bulge with ease as you both moan out in unison.

His hands slip your shirt from your shoulders, without breaking your heated kiss, letting it drop to the floor to meet his. His palm finds your breast, kneading your warm, pliant flesh.

You suddenly grip his length through his trousers, making him release a guttural groan that has him pulling back.

“Fuck.” He hisses, forehead coming to meet yours, panting into each other's space. His pause made you momentarily question if you'd done something wrong.

“I wa— no, I need to taste you.” His voice is raspy and lust laden, taking something silver from his pocket that suddenly catches your eye.

“Are you very fond of these tights?” He asks. You realize he's holding a switchblade that pops open with a push of his thumb.

Your answer comes as you part your thighs further for him, rucking your skirt up to your waist as his eyes land on your core.

In one swift motion, he pulls them taut away from your skin and easily slices upward through the thin nylon material.

“And those?” Eyes flitting back up to you just a moment to seek your permission on the next barrier. In this moment, you didn't care if he cut every piece of clothing from your body.

You nod, sucking in a breath when his fingers delicately dip past the band, slipping the blade under and cutting both sides, as it falls away from your soaked pussy.

Closing the blade, he tosses it to the counter beside you as his hands wrap around the plush of your thighs.

“I'll buy you new ones.” He absentmindedly says, eyes glued to your glistening folds, suddenly pulling you toward the edge of the counter as he takes a knee, tossing your left leg over his shoulder.

His free hand pushes your thigh to further accommodate his frame as he finally comes to eye level with his meal, warm breath fanning your exposed core, causing you to shudder.

His name slipped past your lips in a breathy whine.

“I know, angel.” He cooed, eyes catching yours as his thumb and forefinger came to slowly spread your lips open for him. “Look at you, a mess already.”

He leaves you no time to respond, his tongue finding your entrance, the tip entering slightly before licking a broad stripe all the way up to your aching clit. Your hips jolt involuntarily at the sensation his mouth brings, as he moans into your pussy.

He unlatches himself momentarily to check your already blissed out expression. Barely holding yourself up with shaky arms, with your head thrown back.

“Angel, just lay back f’me.” He says, as you look back down toward him, slowly lowering your back to meet the counter. “That's it. We might be here a while, baby. Your arms were already getting tired.”

As soon as you get more comfortable, he pulls your other leg over his shoulder to dive back in. He began by swirling his tongue across your puffy clit, then flicking it, setting a rapid pace that already has your head spinning.

He'd grown as a man, and obviously gained some new skills along the way that suddenly made you feel a pang of jealousy.

You pushed those thoughts from your mind, instead running your fingers through his perfectly quaffed mane, tugging when his tongue slid back down to your entrance.

“O— oh, Steve.”

Darting in and out, his nose brushing your clit with every upward movement, then moving back up, sucking it a little harshly and soothing it with the fluid motion of his expert muscle.

His eyes close for brief moments but he wanted to watch you fall apart.

His lips and tongue focus on your bundle of nerves, easing his finger up to your entrance, swirling and teasing before dipping in gradually to see your reaction.

You moaned out, tugging a little more harshly on his locks.

He pushes his digit into your soaked hole, feeling it clench around him. He quickly adds a second as your back arches off the counter pushing your pussy further into his face, his fingers moving in and out of your tight channel.

He curves them up, stroking, searching for that spot that will have you screaming his name.

“Steve! Right there!” You whine out when he finds it, grinning to himself.

He doesn't stop, watching as your eyes flutter closed and your head falls back against the counter. Your hips grind into his face chasing your high.

Your mouth goes slack, each brush of his fingertips and suckle of his lips sending you closer to the edge. You'd all but forgotten pleasure that an expert lover could bestow until this very moment.

He begins to flick his tongue in time with his fingers thrusting in and out of you, first rapidly from side to side, then up and down.

He wouldn't let up until he made you come, uncaring how hard his cock was straining and aching against the confines of his trousers.

“Ah— Ste— I'm, I—” Your orgasm suddenly hit with a blinding force, unable to get out a coherent thought before your pussy clenched down around his fingers as you began to writhe and moan beneath him. He pins you to the counter with his free hand when your hips begin to rise, making you take everything he was giving you.

He moans into your cunt, your juices leaking out around his fingers, lapping up your arousal with eager need.

He works you through your release, before you have to push his face away, trying to scoot away from the sensitivity of it all.

“Steve, Steve. Stop. I—” You huff out, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath.

He grins, lips and chin shining with your release, that he gladly licks away. Your legs fall from his shoulders when he eases back up from the floor draping himself over your body, brushing the hair from your face.

You slowly open your eyes to see him beaming down at you, with a bright smile and shining eyes.

“Hi.” You giggle.

“Hi, angel.” Kissing the tip of your nose, before his lips brush over yours.

You wound your arms around his neck, finding his lips, greedily licking into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

His cock stirs, pinned up against your core, alerting you to his unsatiated desire. His hand finds the back of your neck, as he guides you to sit up gripping your thighs as you wrap them around his waist, locking your ankles at the base of his spine.

He carries you down the small hall to the bedroom, his lips working against yours the entire way, finding the edge of the bed, easing you both down. When your back hits the mattress, you finally detach from him long enough to help pull his undershirt over his head and toss it somewhere across the room.

He sits back, as you unzip the side of your skirt, pushing it down your thighs and tossing it away as well.

The small lamp in the corner provides enough light for your eyes to rove the expanse of his chest and abdomen. A silver chain is nestled in his chest hair, a matching bracelet adorns his left wrist.

A bronzed backdrop for the constellations that were scattered across his body, but he’s littered with a few more scars than you remember.

Steve had never been one for tattoos, but he had one on his bicep, his family crest along with something you couldn't quite make out on the left side of his ribs.

He smiled, looking down to where your eyes had landed, as you tilted your head to gain a better look.

His finger traces the outline of a small bird. A dove, with an olive branch held between its beak.

“I always carried you with me. You're my peace, my purity and everything good in this world. We can't change what we were born into Dove, but we can choose who we love. It's always been you.” Your glossy eyes found his; heart suddenly aching with his admission.

He leans back over you, thumb brushing an errant tear that slipped from your eye.

“I love you. I never stopped loving you, tesoro mio,” He whispers, speaking from his heart.

“I love you, amore mio.” Whispering back, with a sense of relief washing over you. A secret long held, burning you from the inside out, finally speaking it out loud and back into existence once more.

He leans in, kissing you tenderly, less hurried than before, taking every precious moment with you that he can. It's a gift not to be squandered.

He wants nothing more than to take his time and reacquaint himself with your body once more.

He pulls back, as you chase his lips with a whine, but his hands quickly find his belt, unbuckling it and popping the button on his trousers before you halt his movement.

“Let me.” You move to shift to your knees, but instead of helping him from his pants you reach around to unclasp your bra first. The straps ease down your arms as your chest is revealed to him.

He groans, reaching out to close his hand around your breast. You pull your lip between your teeth when his thumb grazes your nipple, sending a spark shooting back down to your core. You lean into his touch, your own fingers finding his zipper and pulling it down.

Your hands push his pants as the pool at his knees on the bed. The tent in his boxers doing nothing to quell your desire that's slowly beginning to build back up. Licking your lips, you grow a little brazen, pushing past his waistband and taking his girthy cock into your hand.

He's hot and heavy, bigger than you remember as you squeeze slightly. He tips his head back with a wanton moan, suddenly pulling your hand away as he slides from the bed. You pout at his abruptness.

“Hang on!” He calls back as he quickly darts out the room, hanging onto his pants to keep them from sliding from his hips.

You let out a small laugh, laying back against the silk covered pillow.

He comes back into view, holding up the box of condoms long forgotten on the kitchen floor, laying them on the nightstand as he comes back over to you.

He swiftly pushes his pants and boxers past his hips, letting them pool at his feet as he steps free of them.

Your eyes drift to where his hand is already wrapped around his cock. He pumps himself a few times, finding the head and smearing his precum down his shaft with a groan.

Finally joining you back on the bed, he situates himself back between your legs. His leg pushes yours further apart as he crawls up to meet you face to face, chest pressed tightly to yours.

He's a weak man. Say the word and he would slide into your dripping cunt without another word but he sees the way your eyes cut to condoms when his dick twitches at your bare core.

Leaning over, he furiously rips the box open and takes one out. He opens the small package, looking at you one more time for confirmation.

“It's just for a little while.” You lament. He nods, rolling it down onto his shaft.

“As you wish, Dove.” Saying as he finishes with the condom, holding himself at the base as he leans back over you, guiding himself to your entrance and stopping.

“Just know this,” his lips grazing yours as he spoke. “I can't wait for the day you beg for me to fuck my cum into this tight, little pussy.”

You gasp, cunt suddenly clenching when his head catches your entrance and breaches just slightly. It takes everything in him not to bury himself completely.

Your legs tighten around his waist at the intrusion, as he slowly cants his hips forward. His thick cock presses slowly into your tight heat. You hadn't been with anyone in a few years, let alone anyone that could ever compare to Steve's size.

“How the hell did we make this work before?” You huffed out, pressing your lips tightly back together with a grimace.

“Hey, it's ok.” He leaned down on his elbow, pressing his body close to yours, trying not to laugh at your pouty expression that he found absolutely adorable.

His fingertips smooth out the lines between your brows from where they were pinched, you melted into his touch, listening to his soothing voice.

“This little pussy just needs to relax.” He said, trying to keep a straight face, as you let out a small giggle.

He felt your muscles loosen slightly, granting him further access letting him push in another inch.

“See, angel. She knows what she wants.” He lifted his torso to look between the two of you. Barely halfway in, but he was trying to restrain himself for you.

You nod, as he pulls himself out and pushes back in. In and out, in and out at a slow but steady rhythm. His cock inching along your channel a little further each time, drawing small gasps and moans from you.

“That's it.” He praises, finally pushing in to the hilt, burying his face in your neck as you wrap your arms back around him.

“Y— you feel so fuckin' good.” He breathes out, pulling almost all the way out, barely leaving his head in.

“Ahhhhhh— fuck!” You cry out when his hips snap forward, plunging back in without any warning punching the air from your lungs at the force.

“Are you okay?” He breathes out, looking down at you.

“Fi— fine. Ju—just keep—mmmm—don’t fucking stop!” You manage out between his steady thrusts.

“There's my girl,” urging your thigh higher on his hip, he grips the headboard for more leverage, suddenly pounding in and out of your tight cunt.

The mix of your moans with skin slapping skin echo around the room. The new angle has him hitting that spot within you over and over as your mind starts to go fuzzy and numb.

Your nails dig into his back, urging him on.

“Fuck, Dove. Mark me. Claim me.” His head tilts back, his silver chain dangling in your face. You grip it, catching his attention as you pull him back down toward you.

“Kiss me, Steve. Please.” Suddenly needing him closer.

He could hear the waver in your voice. There were tears spilling hot over your cheeks, as he heard another soft “please” fall from your lips.

He stills, cupping your jaw, leaning back into your space; his lips meeting yours with tender urgency as they meld together.

Your fingers still grip the chain tightly, your free hand running up the back of his neck, nails scraping at his scalp and toying with the hair there.

You needed tenderness that his lips and touch could provide. A sense of intimacy that you haven't felt with anyone in a long time, not even your own husband.

“Angel, Ca—can I move?” He mumbles breathlessly against you.

You nod, as his thick cock drags out and pushes back in. His heavy balls hitting your ass with his upward thrust.

His hand slides down between the two of you, finding your neglected clit, drawing figure 8s with precision.

“I want you to come with me.” He said, kissing the side of your neck.

“Please.” It seems that's all you could manage. The only word in the forefront of your mind. You didn't know exactly what you were asking for at this point.

“I've got you, baby.” Pecking your lips once more before angling his hips up, and hitting that spot with the head of his cock that has you crying out with reckless abandon.

“St— please, don't stop.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” He responds, keeping his pace, staving off his own release to see you fall apart one more time.

His eyes drift across your flushed face, so concentrated with pleasure and pure ecstasy, he couldn't fathom anyone ever denying you when you look like this. But he knows now you're his and no one else deserves to see you like this. No one else will EVER see you like this.

Your pussy fluttered, as your hips meet his next thrust pulling another particularly loud moan from you.

He was so lost looking at you, he momentarily forgot all about himself, solely focusing on giving you what you wanted he barely caught what you'd said before he felt his brain almost short circuit.

“We could ju— mmmmm— just pretend.” You repeated. “I want you to come in me.”

You were babbling at this point, that buzz in your abdomen was getting stronger, pulling you toward another high. Your hips were meeting his with more urgency.

“You’d like that, huh? Having another man’s cum deep inside you.”

Your pussy responded to his words, sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your core.

“Oh— St—” but he didn't let up. He could feel you getting close.

"But you're not really his, huh, Dove?” His nose nudges your cheek. “Huh, baby? Look at me.”

You slowly look up at him, his hair a wild mess from your fingers tangling in the chestnut tresses. Those hazel eyes are almost black as they bore into yours. His next words nearly send you over the edge.

“He doesn't deserve this pussy. It's mine.” He stops toying with your clit, instead grinds his hips so his pubic bone grazes it with every upstroke; taking his hand and pulling yours away from his necklace, threading his fingers through yours as they mold together so perfectly.

“Yes! God—yes! Mmph— Steve, it's all yours. I'm all yours!” Clawing at his shoulder, gripping his hand tightly.

“That’s right, angel! You're all mine.”

It felt like the world stopped, a blinding light behind your eyelids and all sound seemed to fade. A hot white heat flooded your core with the most intense orgasm you'd experienced in a long time. With a scream of his name, your back arches off the bed meeting his chest as he continues to rail you into oblivion.

“That's it, make a mess! Cum on my cock—fuck!” He couldn't finish talking you through it when your cunt clamped down around him, it was all over for him. His abdomen tightened, pushing his length as far into your cunt as he could, his head nudging your cervix as he released into the condom, wishing he was filling you full instead.

They always say sex is better with someone you love. Something about him completely surrounding and grounding you was a high, in and of itself, that you couldn't explain.

He finally stills a few moments later, head falling to your chest. You were both sweaty and spent. Your limbs felt like they were entirely boneless but you managed to wrap your arms back around him as he caged you in.

He bared his weight until you coaxed him to lay on top of you, rubbing soft patterns up and down his spine in the quiet afterglow. He snaked his arms under you, burying his head between your breasts.

“Fuck, I love you.” He finally spoke, kissing up your sternum as his eyes met yours.

He didn't want to ask, he wanted to keep you safe and wrapped up in his arms for as long as possible but he knew the inevitability of the situation.

It's as if you knew what he was thinking.

“I can't stay.” You whisper.

“I know, but just a little while longer.” He moves to get up, removing himself from you as you wince, already missing the way he could fill you completely.

“Sorry, tesoro. Stay right here. I'll be right back.” He kisses your cheek, slipping into the bathroom to dispose of the condom before returning to find his boxers and pulling them back over his ass as you gave him an appreciative once over.

“Don't move.” He reiterated, moving into the hall.

You laid there listening to the clinking of china and silverware, a few grumblings and a loud “shit,” that made you giggle and sit up in the bed.

He emerged from the hall carrying two plates loaded with the long forgotten pasta he had made for you.

“There's a robe over there in the drawer for you, in case you don't want to eat in the nude.” He grinned, as you slowly got up and pulled said robe from the dresser. You paused, noticing it was stocked with various other clothes as well.

“If you need them.” He said as you turned back around, tossing the silk over your shoulders as you slipped back in beside him. “This place is fully stocked with whatever you might need.”

“You really are too good to be true, Mr. Harrington.” Saying as he handed you a plate.

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. “Eat.” Steering the conversation.

He didn't want to argue the virtue of his morality. He was an outright ruthless asshole when he was outside these walls but you could bring him to his knees with one simple smile.

There would come a time when that conversation would need to be had but he wasn't worried about it right now.

You take a bite and the rich sauce explodes on your taste buds as you hum around the fork, closing your eyes to savor it.

“Oh my God! This is so good!”

He grinned around his own mouthful, thoroughly amused with your response.

“What else is there I don't know about you? Hmmm?” You inquired.

“Oh, I think we'll have plenty of time to catch up, no?” He planted a kiss to your cheek, sitting back against the headboard enjoying the moment, while he still could.

Once you both were both stuffed, he wouldn't let you lift a finger as he took the plates back to the kitchen.

He came to lay next to you as your fingertips traced the tattoo as he fondly recalled the memory of getting it. It wasn’t long after he left, but he was waiting to surprise you. A surprise that had taken a bit longer than he had initially anticipated. He left out the part that the ink had caused numerous arguments with an ex-girlfriend when he wouldn't get it covered for her, ultimately ending the tumultuous relationship.

You had gotten quiet, getting tired as the night was drawing to an all too soon close.

“Steve?” Coming out barely above a whisper.

“Hmmm?” He hummed into the top of your hair.

“I just want you to know what you're getting into. Nik isn't going to just let me go. This— Us.” You couldn't help from tearing up at the thought of returning back to that life like this never happened.

“Dove, don't worry about that. Leave it to me. There are things that are going on that you don't know about. That I don't want you to know.” He tucked you in closer to him, kissing your temple.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” You answered, letting yourself shed a single tear. It was the truth but it still didn't quell the fear bubbling just below the surface.

He held you a little tighter, basking in the way his heart soared. Elated to have you back in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

A little while later he watched you get dressed, sans your underwear and hosiery. That little detail had him grinning again as you blushed.

He'd made a mental note to make sure you had new ones the next time you came by to replace them.

He held your hand as he walked you to the door, reluctantly releasing you after peppering you with another barrage of kisses that had you laughing out, a sound he could easily get lost in.

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You smiled at the rarity of your actual name gracing his lips.

You would take the impact of the moment, truly the entire day, with you until you could see him again. Hiding it away and showing it the light of day in secret but his love and affection would keep you going until you could finally show the entire world that he was yours once again.

Taglist: @teen--marvel @micheledawn1975 @thecreelhouse @girlwiththerubyslippers @bunnyhargrove @taccobelle @madaboutjoe

Want to be added? Just let me know!

#steve harrington #king of hearts #KOH #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #mafia!steve harrington #mafia!steve #mafia au #joe keery

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princessofmarvel · 1 year

Text

Secret moments

summary | a collection of steve and yours moments together while hiding your relationship from your brother johnathan, before he finds out.

pairing | steve harrington x fem!cheerleader!byers!reader

wc | 1.6k

warnings! | steve uses the reader to get closer to nancy (it’s only for like a second) and, very slight smut!

genre | fluff!

requested? | yes!

authors note! | hey everyone! i got this request right before last week, and i have just now finished it, so if you sent something in around that time i promise that i am getting to them now! i have just been super busy! and as always, i do i have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind

“Bye! I’ll see you at school!” She yelled to Johnathan as she left out the door to head to school in her cheer uniform. Chrissy had just gotten her driver's license and wanted to drive her and her best friend to school that day. She got into the car and the two imminently started gossiping to each other as if she hadn’t just seen her best friend a few days before.

“Oh my god, you know who has started calling me?” She said to her, turning your head towards her as she was driving.

“Who?” She asked while barely giving her a glance, keeping her eyes on the road.

“Steve.Harrington.” She said while bringing the mirror down to apply some lip gloss.

“Shut up.” Chrissy said while pulling into the school parking lot.

“Yeah, it has been so random.” She said while putting the mirror back up. “He just started hanging around me last Friday when I was with Nancy and Johnathan. I thought it was just a coincidence, but then he started calling the house, and thank god I answered, Jonathan would flip.”

“Well, Speaking of Steve, he’s standing by the doors to get into the school. Do you think he’s waiting on you?” Chrissy said while the two of them got out of the car and started walking towards the door.

“There is no way.” She said while walking with Chrissy to the front doors.

“Hey (Y/n).” Steve said when he looked up, and then he pushed himself off the wall while taking his sunglasses off.

Chrissy mumbled a quick “Told you so.” before throwing her friend a smirk and leaving the two of them alone.

“Um, Hey Steve.” She said back while giving him a smile.

“Will you mind if I walk you to class?” Steve asked her while running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, I don’t mind!” The girl said while smiling up at Steve.

That was all a month ago, it had become their routine. Everyday Steve would walk her to class, until he started picking her up for school too. When he started taking her home as well, was when she started asking questions.

“Steve, what are you doing all this for?” She asked while playing with her hands,

“What are you talking about?” Steve asked while they walked to the car together.

“You suddenly started to hang out with me, you never showed any interest before, and now you are driving me to school, and from school, and hanging out with me all the time, I mean, what happened?” She asked when she stopped in front of Steve's car.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Steve said while laughing, causing the girl to hit him lightly on his shoulder.

“Steve! Tell me, what changed?” She asked again, with a smile on her face while she looked up at him.

“Alright, okay.” Steve said while laughing with her. “You know how you’re good friends with Nancy?” Steve watched the girl nod, knowing that what he was about to say next could ruin their friendship. “I started hanging out with you because I wanted to try to win her back.”

“Excuse me?!” The girl said while taking a step back, even though she just backed into his car.

“Just let me finish.” Steve said, while grabbing her shoulders to steady her. “I know it was a shit thing to do, that’s why I stopped, except I found myself wanting to actually be with you whenever I could, and not for just trying to win over Nancy. I genuinely started falling for you, I know that you will tell me to go to hell after this, but damn, does that feel good to-” Steve couldn’t get his last few words out before (Y/n) rolled her eyes, and grabbed Steve's face to pull him in for a kiss. The kiss was rushed, but it got Steve to shut up.

When they pulled away, Steve held her by her hips. “Wait, so you’re not mad at me?”

“Oh no, I’m pissed.” She said while leaning back against Steve's car, with a smirk on her face. “But, you can make it up to me, with a really, and I mean really nice date.”

Her and Steve had been seeing each other for months now, the two of them keeping things quiet to avoid her brother finding out, the end of the school year was ending, and they wanted the cheerleaders to perform at the end of year rally. She was just finishing up practice with the other cheerleaders, when she noticed her boyfriend sitting in the stands, watching the practice while pretending to do homework.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” The girl said, while running up to him with her bag hanging over her shoulder, practice just having ended.

“Well, I wanted to watch my girl practice.” Steve said while wrapping his arms around her waist. “I mean you know that I can never get enough of you in that uniform.”

“Steve!” She said while pushing him away from her, causing Steve to pull her back into him. “Someone will see!”

“Let them.” He said, while placing a hand on the side of her face, and pulling her in for a kiss. They were in a public place, so people would have been able to see, but Steve knew that the field was now empty, leaving only the two of them.

Later that summer, the two of them had been spending more time together than ever before. Even with Steve having a new job.

She walked into scoops ahoy, to see her boyfriend serving ice cream to some customers.

“Hey babe!” He said, while the customers made their way out and into the open mall. Steve came out from behind the counter to greet her, but she just started laughing.

“I’m sorry, but what on earth is that hat?” She said laughing while leaning on the counter.

“Yeah, ha ha, just remember, you date this.” He said while pointing at himself, causing the girl to just laugh even more.

They spent the majority of the summer like this, her showing up at his work, and him imminently having her vanilla ice cream ready for her. He would spend his breaks (and even some of his work time) with her, playing with his hair while she ate her ice cream.

“Steve, you know you have work to do?” Robin said from behind the counter, getting a groan from Steve before he got up to go back to work, leaving you alone.

“Steve, will you please focus on the russians.” Dustin yelled to him, while Steve was staring at (Y/n) while she was reading a book.

“I’m sorry, but how do you expect me to help you translate evil russians?”

They were successful in keeping their relationship a secret from Jonthan until one day in late July 1985.

“Steve, what if Jonathan walks in, shouldn’t we be doing this at your place?” (Y/n) asked while Steve was kissing her neck.

“He’s out with Nancy, don’t even worry about it sweetheart.” Steve said while she had her hands in his hair. “Especially if you keep on doing that.” He mumbled close to her before he leaned back in, and connected their lips.

The two of them were so lost in each other that they did not even hear the door open to her bedroom. “Hey (Y/n) have you seen my- OH MY GOD.” Jonathan yelled, while covering his eyes causing the (Y/n) and Steve to pull apart, and Nancy to run in.

“What’s Wrong- Steve?!” Nancy said shockingly. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was trying to do he-” Steve started to say, before he was cut off by his girlfriend.

“Steve Harrington if you finish that sentence, I swear to god I will-” (Y/n) started before Steve cut her off

“Okay, okay sorry!” Steve said while he was holding his hands up. “How long has this been going on?” Jonathan said while pointing his finger between the two of them.

“Almost a year.” She said, causing Johnathan to gasp. “A YEAR?!”

“We didn’t tell you because we knew that you would react this way!” She shouted at her brother.

“Well yeah! What if he hurts you?!” Jonathan shouted back. “You know what people say about him! No offense Steve.”

“None taken” Steve said back while waving a hand. “I know what they say about me too, all good things.”

“We have been together for almost a year, Johnathan, if that was the case, it would be over by now!” (Y/n) said while rolling her eyes at Steve's comment.

“He treats you right?” Jonathan asked, still being protective over his sister.

“Yes he does, you have nothing to worry about, Jonathan.” She said back to her brother.

“Alright then, but if you hurt her, Harrington.” Jonathan said while trying to sound all tough.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Steve said while he wrapped his arms around his girlfriend's waist, watching Johnathan and Nancy walk out of the room, shutting the door behind them. “So, should we continue?”

“We just got caught by my brother, and you want to keep going, Steve?” (Y/n) said while turning her head to look at him with an eyebrow raised.

“Well, yeah?” Steve said, smiling back at her.

“You are going to be the end of me, Steve Harrington.” She said as she turned to face him. While wrapping her arms around his neck. “And, I’ll be there until that happens.” Steve says while smiling, and leaning down to kiss her again.

Tags! | @minty-fox-candyyki

#steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things smut #stranger things #mike wheeler #nancy wheeler #billy hargrove #johnathan byers #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you

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