#problem being: falling in love with steve harrington

[hitlikehammers]

AVOIDANCE: the only real solution to all of Eddie’s your falling-in-love problems!

(0 out of 10 participants in this approach have proven its INeffectiveness; talk to your ✨love interest✨today to avoid this heartbreaking waste of your energy!)

It’s not like they were bosom buddies for years and years. A week at the outset, a couple months since, and now they’re all back in their own homes living their own lives and Eddie can avoid the way he’s most definitely, one-hundred-percent certainly in love with Steve Harrington. Very effectively.  By simply avoiding Steve Harrington. 

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4, eddie munson and his newfound obsession/unprecedebtedly-close-to-love feelings for steve harrington, answer: avoid steve harrington like the plague, excellent and emotionally-mature ways of dealing with your problems! /s, primary hiccup in existing plan: forgetting steve harrington doesn’t take well to failure, (oops), miscommunication, boys so dumb, confessions, hint of angst (because eddie is a very silly boy with very silly ideas sometimes), self-confident!steve, steve harrington facing the issues head-on, feelings confessions, peak eddie dramatics, happy ending♥️

for @steddielovemonth day fifteen: “If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”―Jane Austen, Emma

True fact: Eddie thought he was playing things cool. Thought he was totally copacetic, in, you know, keeping it all subtle. He can do subtle, y’know: being loud and proud, shouting on tabletops and shit, screaming at drunks—that was a choice, not a…a rule. He’s a freak, he’s an outcast, he’s a weird-ass motherfucker: he’d have had far more brushes with his actual-factual demise in this podunk town if he was literally incapable of blending in with the background, and not just kinda sickened by the concept, let alone the effort involved to appease fucking…normies.

So yeah, he’d…he’d thought he was flying under the radar. And anyway; why the fuck would Steve Harrington even notice eddies absence in his day-to-day? They were apocalypse ‘friends’. Hospital buddies at best.

They’re back in the real world now.

Eddie supposed Vecna or whatever the fuck his name is will come crawling back in the foreseeable future, but brighter minds than his are preparing for that shit. The sheepies will let him know if they need his assistance—pending what that assistance may or may not be worth dependent on how far along his PT journey he stands at that point.

But it’s not like they were glued to the hip. It’s not like they were bosom buddies for years and years. A week at the outset, a couple months since, and now they’re all back in their own homes living their own lives and Eddie can avoid the way he’s most definitely, one-hundred-percent certainly in love with Steve Harrington. Very effectively.

By simply avoiding Steve Harrington.

It’s kind of a foolproof plan, really. He starts wrapping Hellfire earlier, tells the little shitheads he’s gotta run, Wayne needs a hand with a revolving door of household projects now that they’ve got their own place with more than one bedroom. Gotta mount that hangers for that ball cap collection just right, you know, yadda yadda.

He thinks they gave up being suspicious without a week or two, now just hit him with annoyed eye rolls. God bless the scourge of self-centred teenage bitchiness playing directly into eddies hand.

What he failed to account for, however, about eleven weeks into his up-to-now flawless scheme, was…well. The leading man himself.

Showing the fuck up at Eddie’s door, which Eddie answered for once like a fool and now can’t back out of cleanly because there’s no truck in the drive—it’s clear he’s here on his own.

Motherfucker.

One thing can be said for the plan, in terms of like, general side quest observations—absence definitely made the heart grow fonder. Or at least didn’t contribute at all to the opposite. Which Eddie hadn’t been entirely sure was possible, because the speed and strength of how he fell with every fucking cell in him had honestly terrified the shit out of him on its own. But after avoiding Steve, nodding at best if he canoed paths and sneaking away when the man called out like he was gonna snake through a crowd at any of the number of the family dinners for interdimensional-trauma-survivors-anonymous that Eddie couldn’t weasel out of: it’d been clear pretty fucking quick.

The almost-indefensibly-absurd affection he’d developed for the King of Hawkins—it wasn’t just reign over the high school if the parents were so charmed, if the fucking hospital has cowed into acting and quick when they tried to hesitate in treating an accused murderer, as Eddie’d been regaled with by everyone but Steve, who shrugged his kinda crucial role in saving Eddie’s ass with a shrug and of course, man, like there was ever even a question—but his indefensibly overwhelming and absurd infatuation that spent every month expanding further to try and crack his fucking ribs, well.

It was chronic, at best. He wasn’t gonna shake it…any time soon.

Any time soon.

So: best to at least keep the catalyst at bay, stop it from causing the condition to worsen.

He’d made the mistake of thinking it couldn’t get worse already. Learn from your mistakes, and all the shit.

So what if it’s been months now and not only has the malady of being ass-over-nipple in-fucking-love persisted, but got so much fucking worse? Deeper? More, when that shit should have even been possible?

No. He just has to be persistent. Keep at the plan. Eventually, it’ll die off. It’ll whither and blow away. It’ll fucking fade—

He does, however, fail to calculate all contingencies.

Namely Steve Harrington’s incapacity to accept defeat.

He’s also too fucking scatterbrained to check the door before opening it when there’s a knock, just after Wayne’s left for his shift. When Eddie has no excuse to slam it back shut on the exceptionally exquisite face waiting when the hinges swing open.

Exquisite, but looking…pinched. Sour.

Pissed the fuck off.

And worst of all of it—because so far the list only server to underscore that unfortunate state of being fucking beautiful, on every possible level—but worst of it all, because it’s worst on its own but also because it twists, distorts all the beauty, and it’s so clearly Eddie’s fault because Steve is standing right here, and not elsewhere, after all this time.

Looking hurt, under everything else.

“I’m done with this, yeah?”

Eddie could run. He’d only make it to his room; Steve would probably be able to break down the door and get to him before he could slither through the window and run, but he’s still not 100%, right, he’s physically at a disadvantage anyway, it’s not even gonna be a question—

Steve’s got him cornered.

So he just stands. Blinks.

Doesn’t…know what Steve’s ‘done with’, but he feels his literally twist, wring like a dishrag, when he figures out the most likely answer is just:

 Eddie.

Even trying to keep the maximum distance, he either knows, and hates it, hates him, or…

He doesn’t know, and doesn’t need to. He just is over Eddie and his bullshit.

It’s in the heart-piercing distraction of either and both possibilities that Steve pushes past him into the front hall.

“What the fuck is your problem, man?”

Steve crosses his arms as the door latches closed, caging them in.

Eddie’s heart starts kicking hard, which is painful. He assumes that’s because it’s been pierced by the hurt still on Steve’s face.

“I thought we were, like, that at least we were friends?”

He says it like he also has maybe had thoughts like there’s something else they were, or could have been. That by association and context would be somewhere more than friends?

Eddie’s pieced-through heart switches to a double-thumping sort of thing that’s really just as confused as the rest of him.

Hurts like a motherfucker, too.

“Did I do something?”

Steve asks, finally sounds more defeated than any of the other things Eddie can pick up in how he holds his body, and honestly that’s what breaks Eddie’s resolve, of everything; after everything. After holding out this long and failing for the entire fucking effort, after hurting Steve, the last thing he could ever want, probably the main underlying reason he’s been running from him the whole goddamn time—to not hurt him.

He’s suck a fuck up. He’s such a fucking fuck up.

“You know how sunflowers grow?”

Steve startles a little, grows the slightest bit.

“They find the sun, and the grow toward it,” and Eddie’s not stupid enough to think the whole disaster that’s unfolding in front of him, from his own chest, his own fucking mouth—he’s aware.

He can’t do nothing, but he also doesn’t think he can sugarcoat this in a way that goes down easier; sand the rough edges to make it make better sense.

He has to wrench it raw and bloody from his ribs, caught on the jagged bone like the messy fuck he is.

“You were the sun,” Eddie finally says it out loud, and his voice is so small and wondering, he can’t hide it. “You were the sun and I woke up broken, I had to grow back so much and I did, because I had the tools,” he swallows, takes a shaky breath:

“I had the sun right next to me, to do all the growing toward. To…rebuild around.”

Eddie’s always been a weirdo, and outcast—he’s spent a lot of time in libraries; often hiding.

But he’s read a lot of random shit. And enough of it’s stuck to make some sense of this fucking mess.

Steve’s face gives nothing away. It’s usually so…so generous with its feeling, even if there are some feelings Eddie knows Steve’s careful to never let show.

But in the now, he just stares.

“Otters,”Eddie blurts out, fingers twitching, wrists shaking; “they hold hands when they sleep,” and he looks up for a second before looking away again, pulse a mullet in his throat.

“I used to hold onto your hand when I fell asleep in the hospital,” and he says it like it’s a secret, a confession, even though of all people, of course Steve already fucking knows. The part he doesn’t, though:

“I still reach, and how fucked that? Like I deserve it as a rule, like it’s mine.”

Like you’re mine.

He can’t say it. But he doesn’t have it. It rings out on its own.

“But then there are the trees that shoot up all tangled,” Eddie can’t remember what they’re called; “where the trunks split off into one another, or they’re so braided up together the share their bark, whole pieces left Bernal’s, naked but the other tree covers it, makes it strong and safe but only so long as they’re literally fused together indefinitely,” and Eddie hopes that one…that one explains itself.

He pauses, waits for any reaction.

No dice.

“Bats sleep in pitcher plants.”

That at least gets the slightest lift of the chin. Probably because it’s weird, and also…bats.

Right. So Eddie’s gonna have to spell it all out.

Which he kinda knew. The examples are fucking weird. But they’re…they’re true. They’re where he is.

“If I get too fucking close, I will destroy you,” Eddie says, because that’s the fear, right—or no.

That’s the fucking truth. Eddie always ends up with the tatters of the things he loves the most.

“I’ll take too much, I’ll take everything,” Eddie confesses, pleads in his tone to be seen, which Steve’s always been weirdly good at, and understood—the bigger gamble.

“There won’t be any stoplights, there won’t be a barrier or a boundary where I’ll know I’ve gone too far because I won’t even think of what that fucking is, what it could be to even watch for, like the barebones idea of ‘too far’, let alone what it looks like, I won’t,” and his breath runs out, so he gasps, and he thinks he sees Steve move to reach, to help, to steady.

He thinks.

It’s probably just wishful thinking.

“I won’t stop holding on just when I’m sleeping, I’ll,” Eddie licks his lips, because now…now he’sstarting to hurt, closer to what it felt like with teeth ripping his flesh than anything has felt, than any loss has threatened. He has to clear his throat, because otherwise the rest will just spill out like a sob:

“I’ll tear your bark so you bleed, and you’re exposed and you die off slow, because I was selfish, so selfish, I held to close, I fucking…” eddies voice cracks; his eyes fucking burn; “because I fucking demanded the whole of you, and damn the cost because I couldn’t process an end, why would I stop doing to even think to be logical and careful when an end to you was, is, well, fuck,” he huffs, and a tear spills out white hot down his cheek;

“It’s incomprehensible, because that would be the end of everything, that was made real fucking clear for me with the bats, both times,” and Eddie means that—he’s had time to think through the origin of his aching and it was early, it was any hint of being in the world without this person in it, too; “and the end of everything, well,” he shakes his head, some of his hair sticking in the single trail of salt on his skin:

“Tied up in you, so tight we couldn’t physically untangle?” His voice drops to a whisper, and he knows his smile has to look sad, but he means this is the deepest places his heart even holds:

“What better way to go?”

He maybes watches Steve’s throat bobbing. Maybe.

Probably not.

So Eddie just sighs. Because…none of that matters. None of that matters in the face of the core truth:

“Those pitcher plants dissolve things inside them, it’s how they eat,” he half-recites, retreating into those deep-heart places, where the feeling is most saturated, but hard to find, somewhere to hide as he whispers, cowers in himself as he flats his own flesh:

“I’ll leech from you for wanting too much just the same. I’ll fucking destroy you, Stevie,” he moans, feels his arms wrap around his chest, protective. Trembling.

“I’ll love you so hard I’ll suffocate you, I’ll tear you to pieces trying to get closer, trying to hold the heart of you closer to mine,” he doesn’t even make a conscious decision to press a palm over his flailing heart where his arm already holds, hugs himself so fucking tight. His lungs are sore. It’s tight, trying to breathe.

“It’s not an overstatement, though, the other plants, the flowers,” Eddie feels overwhelmed, suddenly, with a need to make clear that there’s only one person at fault for this, and it’s him—Steve didn’t deserve to get hurt. Eddie should have found a better way to keep him safe—from Eddie—from the very start. Because—

“You are my sun,” Eddie makes himself look up, look at Steve. “I didn’t realize how little I was growing even before spring break. I didn’t notice, how fucking thriving wasn’t even in my goddamn vocabulary, until there was you.” His breathing shudders again, followed by the rest of him:

“I turn toward you as a rule,” because here’s the thing. All these weeks and months.

Eddie’s been shrivelling. Eddie spends his nights dreaming of sunlight.

It’s inescapable.

He was going to have to find a more sustainable compromise soon, anyway. Might as well…lay it all out now.

He’s already ripped off his bark. He’s already prepared to dissolve in the acid, to burn for what it means to have left the feeling grow so big.

“I hope,” he coughs, starts slow, formal-like: “I hope you can do me the favor of just,” he has to clear his throat again; fuck, it’s hard; “politely ignoring that part. Like, even at a distance, it’s not something I can seem to stop.”

He was aiming for apologetic for that last bit, honest.

He fucking fails spectacularly, so. That’s cool.

“I swear, I won’t bother you,” he tries to convey how he’s sorry, for all of it, save for the core of the loving, because he as granted. A taste, no matter how it’s fallen to ruin; he’s selfish that way anyhow, to have seen some of the sun versus darkness alone for always.

Still:

“I won’t come near, I’ll do what I’ve been doing but better, I’ll be better, I’ll try harder, it will—“

Eddie thinks maybe he’s finally died. Of heartbreak, of whatever the Upside Down did to him. Of living without his sun for a long.

Any. All of the above.

Because the next thing he knows is pressure. Heat.

On his lips.

He barely processes responding before its town away: of course death wouldn’t be a reward. Not for him.

“Are you fucking telling me,” a voice bites out close enough to Eddie’s lips that he can feel how sharp they cut:

“That you have been avoiding me, running awayfrom me,” and Eddie knows that voice—

“Breaking my heart,” and fuck, fuck Eddie knows he knows that voice because when it’s hurting—and those words are irate and disbelieving and they’re hurt—

“Because you’re fucking scared of loving me too hard?”

And Eddie pulls back, opens his eyes: Steve.

Steve’s eyes are fucking vibrant with feeling, so many feelings. He’s…he doesn’t think he’s dead, because a lot of those feelings are ones Eddie’s not familiar with, and how would he know to place them there if he’s never known them at all?

He doesn’t know of it’s better or worse, to not be dead right now.

Because he just apparently got to feel Steve’s lips on his lips.

But then:

“Because that’s what you’re saying, right” Steve raises a brow, demands in posture as much as in tone:

“You’re in love with me.”

And then on the flip side of being alive-or-dead: he has to deal with the consequences of spelling out the answer to…that.

Which he’s apparently broken Steve’s heart over handling…the only way he could figure out. And still fucking it up.

“That sounds less than what it feels like,” Eddie whispers; it’s the only thing he can latch on to.

Steve’s eyes narrow at him, contemplate him.

“And you think me, of all people,” Steve finally asks, slow, his tone wrenchingly deliberate; “that Iwouldn’t meet someone loving that big and that much,” “and he huffs, shakes his head in searing disbelief Eddie almost wishes he could flinch from, but it’s so warm, it’s his sun:

“That that wouldn’t feel like there actually was a heaven, and I’d died and somehow made it there?”

Eddie’s breath catches, then stops entirely. He can’t seem to properly suck in another one because…

“That finding that wouldn’t feel like I’d won the lottery, like I’d figured out what it meant when people talk about a blessing, and all that shit?”

Because what…what it almost sounds like Steve is saying can’t actually be—

“That finding it, with you,” and oh, oh Steve is a lot closer than he was last Eddie processed the world around him, his chest is grazing Eddie’s chest when he seems to have no trouble breathing, just is doing it really deep and reallt fast—

“That it’d be anything less than a gift,” Steve murmurs half against Eddie’s lips; “a dream come to life?”

And Steve’s eyes flick up, and it’s when they land on Eddie’s and see him that his lungs shiver and he chokes out the only word he thinks his every molecule knows by heart:

“Steve?”

And Steve doesn’t move, neither. Loser nor farther away.

Doesn’t look away; doesn’t blink.

Just asks:

“Do you love me?”

And something in Eddie unfreezes, some string holding him up, holding him back snaps free and he just grabs Steve’s hand and presses it to his chest, like he needs to be tethered now that the string in him’s been cut, and the touch, this touch: Steve is really all he’s been wanting to keep him.

To keep him at all.

And maybe this is the one shot he gets.

But Steve, Steve said…

He presses Steve’s hand to his chest a little harder, because he’s bathed in the sun again. Their hands are linked, and they’re not asleep. He’s peeled off all the pretense, he’s as bare and vulnerable as he can possibly get. His heart’s beating into Steve palm. Eddie will happily fucking drown in this, dissolve and be…

He’s already consumed.

How is it any different, save that maybe, just maybe, beyond all odds and against everything he’s feared—

“More than I can hold in here,” Eddie scarcely finds the air to breathe; “more than I can say.”

“Then share it,” Steve says, the assuredness, the rightness in his gravity that’s always been at his core radiating forth and warming Eddie in a way he’s never known to feel before.

“Let me know it, let that feeling not be alone anymore,” and the words hold more than their syllables, by so much; “let it out to see the sun,” and then Steve’s flipping their hands so eddies the one caught agains this chest, but he’s always pulling them close enough that Steve’s knuckles are still catching the drum of Eddie’s pulse. It feels…

Eddie didn’t know what to expect, to let the feeling be felt beyond his own chest.

It’s breathtaking in a new way. It’s…

“Let it meet its match here, in how I feel,” Steve doesn’t suggest, just speaks, instructs, leads with a match to what Eddie feels, has been drowning in, save where it stole his air it’s breathing into him; where it took his light it’s reinventing the sun as Steve murmurs close, so close to his lips:

“Let it see how it was killing me all this time without you,” and Eddie whimpers for the cost of what he’s done, what he felt so sure he had to do—

“Let the feeling inside here,” and he presses his touch back to Eddie’s chest just a little bit firmer; “know how much sharing it’s like stitching my broken heart back to rights.”

Eddie’s exhales shakes so fucking hard; he can’t be this lucky. It can’t…he can’t…

But his heart’s beating so hard, so fast, so free.

So fucking alive.

“You can’t say it, big enough?” Steve pushes, his breath so goddamn warm, his lashes so thick, Eddie wants to feel them on his skin like a blessing, a sacrament:

“You can’t say it? Then show me, instead.”

And Steve looks up at him before he grabs around the back of Eddie’s neck, pulls him close enough that speaking rubs their lips together, more combative than affectionate but still undeniably intimate as Steve growls:

“Fucking months, Eddie, Jesus,” and his grip is firm, but there’s no force, Eddie could pull back, Eddie could try to run, and fail, but how could he, how could he ever—

His hand’s crushed to Steve’s chest. The same wild thrum he feels in his veins is there.

Let it meet its match.

“Make up for it,” Steve’s breath trembles on Eddie’s lips, taunts him, begs him, asks so many questions.

Eddie flips their hands one more time, presses Steve’s hand to his heartbeat with nothing less than desperation until his ribs goddamn creak, and then he leans, makes the pressure bigger—

Meets the feeling in Steve with all the feeling in him with their lips on each other like they mean it this time, ready to dissolve in it. To grow themselves to protect around the soft parts. To keep their hands entwined for always.

To come alive inside this sun.

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @allmyfavoritethingsinoneblog @anthrobrat @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @madigoround @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here

[stevebabey]

the four steps between (best) friends and lovers

summary: Long-time best friends, it's not a surprise that it's you Steve comes to when he needs a fake girlfriend. One little white lie, one perilous family dinner, one evening of pretending to be a couple.

How hard could it be?

[ 12k + best friends to lovers + fake dating + fem!reader]

STEP ONE: THE PROPOSAL

"Be my girlfriend."

The glass held between your fingers slips and makes a loud bang as it hits the sink. The water from the tap pours over it, unaware of the incredibly unusual change in the universe that just occurred.

You tilt your head up, ignoring the lost glass, and raise your eyebrows high. "Come again?"

Steve huffs a little, as though you're the one being rather dramatic, and leans further forward across the island. His hands are planted firmly, his hazel eyes wide as he all but pouts at you. You're still grappling with where the hell that came from.

"Be my girlfriend. Please." He says. "For just one dinner, I promise. I swear I wouldn't be asking if I wasn't actually desperate."

You blink, clearly having missed a beat somewhere.

Frowning, you finally shut off the tap and rescue your abandoned glass from the bottom of the sink. You pick up and give it a quick once over for any chips. Scot-free, luckily.

"Okay, back up." You say, giving a small shake to clear your head. You make a face. "First of all, Harrington, ouch."

Steve sags a bit. "C'mon, you know that's not what I mean."

Not even a hint of a smile at your dig — which tells you he's probably pretty serious then.

"Secondly, what dinner is this? What could be so important that you have to show up with a faux-girlfriend on your arm?"

Steve properly slumps this time, a loud groan accompanying the languished movement. His forehead presses against the counter-top and you bite your tongue to avoid making an unhelpful, teasing comment about it. Instead, you refill the glass in your hand and wait patiently.

"I…" Steve begins, his voice muffled against the counter-top.

"MybrotherisintownwithhisfiancéeandI—"

"Steveeee," You interrupt as you give in to the urge, leaning over and poking him in the head. "If you want my help, please stop mumbling into the counter and tell me the problem."

He doesn't move for a moment, still face down, but you can see the rise and fall of his back as he sighs deeply. He shifts, twisting so his face is no longer hidden. It's noticeably pinker than it was a minute ago.

"My brother is in town next week." He explains. "With his fiancée. And my parents really love to kick up a fuss whenever he gets brought up, whether it's, yanno, like, about jobs and shit or whatever."

Steve waves a careless hand out. He rises from his slumped position, tucking his chin into the palm of his hand.

"And, like, this time it was about relationships. It was all," Steve's voice pitches up, whiny and nasally. "When are you going to get a serious relationship like Brandon, Steve? When are you going to settle down, Steve? When are you going to stop being a disappointment, Steve?"

He huffs another sigh, this one tinged with more defeat. You feel your face twitch in sympathy.

"So, just to get them shut up I…" Steve averts his gaze to study the counter-top suddenly. He draws an idle circle with his free hand. "I said that I was actually dating someone."

You take in his words. "But you're not."

"Thank you, genius. I had no idea." Steve straightens up with a scoff, throwing his hands out. Dragging them down his face, another groan warbles out of him.

"But now they're expecting me to show up to this dinner with someone — someone I'm dating — and I cannot admit I lied. So, please, be my girlfriend for one night."

You snort. His distress, a disaster of his own making, is just a tad bit funny. Just a little. A smidge. "Dude, chill. Just say your girlfriend is sick and she can't come."

Steve laughs mirthlessly. "That's like the adult equivalent of saying oh you don't know her, she goes to another school. No, I can't do that! C'mon, please."

His hands clasp together, raised in a plea.

"Think of it as one hugely, massive favour."

You take a moment to think it over.

"When is it?"

"This weekend, Saturday, 5 o'clock."

"Dress code?"

"Formal. Duh."

"How many people?"

"Uh, my mom, my dad, my brother, his fiancée. Maybe my uncle? Four or five."

Saturday was only a couple days away. He'd left it awfully late to ask—and you're not exactly sure who else would step up for the job if you said no. For the first time since he threw out the insane suggestion, you properly consider it — and feel your face screw up instinctively.

You? Pretending to be Steve's girlfriend?

Sure, to some girls that probably sounded like a dream come true, but it hadn't ever been like that between you and Steve.

You weren't even sure if you could picture it, being tucked under his arm, receiving delicate kisses on the head instead of noogies. Your nose wrinkles again at the oddity.

It wasn't like people didn't like to speculate — men and women can't just be friends, after all — but getting on Steve Harrington's kiss list had never really been a priority to you. Would you even be able to pull it off?

Your mind casts out to the girls that Steve tends to date, nit-picking as you try to think of what separated you from them. While Steve would certainly vehemently deny it, you're pretty sure you can pick a pattern out from the array of girls. A type that you certainly wouldn't see yourself fitting into.

Steve just… doesn't go for girls like you.

Steve, watching you closely, sees the hesitation sink in. He leans forward again, bargaining face on.

"You can veto every movie we watch for the next month."

You squint at him. Raise your chin an inch, forcing yourself not to smile too obviously. It's not often you get to see Steve looking ready to actually grovel for something.

He narrows his eyes, catching onto your deviousness. "Fine. I'll pay for your shakes for the next month, too."

You take another moment to think it over, exaggerating the hmmm sound you make. You tap your finger against your chin, indicating you're not quite convinced yet.

Steve leans further forward, his expression inching toward a bitchy disbelief. A muscle in his jaw twitches.

He looks as though he might start another slew of scoffing, his tongue pressed into his cheek, before he seems to re-evaluate what's at stake here.

He says, "I will drive you up to Indianapolis on—" He holds up one finger. "—one occasion when you ask."

Grinning, you stick out your hand for him to shake.

"You've got a deal, mister."

Steve sighs, his shoulders sagging in relief as he drops his hand to rest in yours. You give it a firm shake and just when you can see the thank-you forming on his lips, you tug his hand forward. You grin wider, almost taunting.

"I would've done it just for the shakes, just so you know."

Steve does scoff this time, ripping his hand back from yours. "You're an awful friend."

You bite down your smile, already dreaming of the free shake you'll be sipping all the way out to Indianapolis. You take a sip of your water and raise your brows at Steve over the lip of your cup.

"Hey. Don't you mean awful girlfriend." You wiggle your brows, not failing to see the hint of pink that colours Steve's cheeks.

Despite the colour in his face, Steve manages to deliver a long, unimpressed stare at you.

His eyes flick down your figure, clearly turning your words over in his head, then back up. As though he's actually realising what he's asked you to do.

He huffs another sigh, running his hand down his face. "Jesus Christ. This is an awful idea."

"Hey, it's your idea, not mine."

—

A stray blouse flies from the closet, landing in an unceremonious lump at the foot of your bed.

You toe at it gently, narrowed gaze travelling from the murky colour up toward the closet, to the perpetrator currently tearing your wardrobe apart. He doesn't even pause, hands still digging, almost resembling a dog burying a bone.

Sighing, you drop your head back, hair splaying against your pillow. The water-stain on your bedroom ceiling greets your sigh with silence.

You had thought that, while sure, yeah, the Harrington's are a fancy bunch, it ultimately wouldn't be that much of a hassle to step in as Steve's date.

You'd have to dig through your closet for the nicest thing you owned (and seldom wore) and you and Steve would concoct a ludicrous story that could be the next John Hughes film.

It would take an hour, tops.

A severe underestimation. Maybe the promise of one hugely, massive favour should've tipped you off.

"Are you being serious right now?" You moan from your place on the bed. You shift your head forward again, eyeing your best friend across the room.

Steve, still buried in your closet, makes a loud harumph in answer. His voice comes out muffled against the clothes, too swamped amongst the fabric. "—Y'know, this wouldn't be so hard if you actually had anything wearable in here—"

You make a noise of indignation, tipping your head further forward. Your necklace shifts, the pendant sliding down the chain and hitting the comforter beneath you.

"And just what are you trying to say?"

Steve pauses for a moment, his hands halted on a pair of coat-hangers. He leans out from the clothing and lets his head loll back, his hazel eyes forming a flat stare.

"Har har." Steve says sarcastically. He turns back to the closet, the coat-hanger in his hand scraping as he pushes it along, assessing each piece with quick, attuned eyes. "I'm just saying you have a lack of clothing that my mother deems acceptable."

He turns back for a second. "Which is a good thing, by the way."

You hum in agreement, letting your head flop back onto your pillow. You've seen the pantsuits Cynthia Harrington wears.

Steve continues his barrage through your wardrobe, making a noise of disapproval every couple of seconds.

You also can't say you had expected to get started so soon; as in immediately post fake-girlfriend proposal. It occurs to you that perhaps you've said yes to something bigger than you expected.

"You're taking this really seriously." You comment.

"Yeah, well," Steve reaches in and tosses another blouse, this one pale-blue, on the bed by your feet. "I know you've met my parents before but they're, like, different when Brandon comes around."

"Different?"

"Like worse. Way, way worse." He draws a line with a flat hand. "Brandon makes them just so—"

His hand curls up, forming a fist. He sighs, dropping it to rest on his hip. For a long moment, he stares into your wardrobe.

You push up on one elbow, brows knitting together. "Steve?"

Steve jolts lightly at your voice, torn out of his thoughts. He reaches out and plucks another blouse from your wardrobe, a maroon pleated one that you'd sworn you had thrown away. It's horrendous and definitely picked out by your mother. He turns and chucks it on the bed, crumpling atop the others and looks up at you, hands perched on his hips.

"Just, like, the smoother this dinner goes, the better, okay?"

You sit up completely, catching the seriousness leaking into Steve's voice. Damn. He actually sounds pretty worked up about the whole thing.

You smile, aiming for comfort. Even if you hadn't quite grasped what you had said yes to, Steve was still your best friend.

His parents were… difficult on the best of days. It was clear he was going for the least eventful, head-down approach as he could for this.

You could do that.

"Okay." You nod, more serious this time, eyeing the blouses on the end of the bed. You miss the relief that shutters across Steve's face. "We got three days til Saturday. What do you need me to do?"

"You can start," Steve says, spinning back to face your chest of drawers this time. His eyes flash over, with a hint of mirth. "By telling me if you even own a skirt that goes below your knees, you scandalous woman."

You laugh and get to your feet, wandering towards your drawers to pull open the bottom most one. Fishing around, you try to recall if you have anything church-worthy, tongue poking out your lips.

A hideous woollen skirt gifted to you for Christmas a couple years ago springs to mind. You shiver.

"Below the knee, huh?" You say. "You better start telling me about the role I'll be playing if I can't even turn up as myself."

You're only half joking. Your fingers curl around the scratchy fabric and you wrinkle your nose in recognition. Tugging it forward, it escapes the confines of your drawers and splays out with a sudden poof. You get the joy of remembering just how ugly it really is.

Twisting, you hold it up to Steve who has taken your place on your bed, laid back.

"Think this'll do?"

Steve's head perks up and he locks onto the skirt in your grasp. "Ugh, it's awful. Perfect."

You drop the skirt, abandoning it to take your place next to Steve on the bed. The springs creak slightly as your weight joins Steve's, the bed dipping and forcing you closer together. A smile sneaks onto his face.

"Okay, but for real," You jab a finger into the softness of Steve's side and he makes a little noise of complaint. "You've gotta tell me what I'm expecting for this, dude. It would be, like, catastrophically mean of you to send me in there blind."

Steve sighs — something he's really doing that a lot recently — and rolls toward you, propping his head up with one arm. The edges of his polo stretch as his bicep bulges. He frowns down at your comforter as he thinks.

"I don't know if I actually can prepare you for it." He admits, raising his gaze to look at you through his lashes. "Like, I think we're gonna have to just come up with a story and fend off the questions as best we can."

Another thought occurs to you. You frown. "Wait, don't your parents, like, know about me already?"

Steve's gaze darts away, this time staring at your comforter with a greater intensity. He gives a mirthless chuckle. "Yeah, well, that's why it'll work. They basically already ask me when we'll be getting together."

Your brows jump. A teasing grin taunts your mouth but you forsake it for a more helpful approach.

"Alright, then," You say. "Then let's do better than fending off the wolves. If I'm gonna be your fake girlfriend, I'm not gonna half-ass it. Let's knock the socks off your parents."

Steve's eyes jump up, meeting your stare and it takes another moment before he realises you're being genuine. You grin, poking him in the side again.

"And Brandon."

"Yeah?" Steve smiles. He sounds a tad awed at your dedication, his eyes roaming over your face gently. After a moment, he shakes his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "Okay. Uh, we have to come up with a backstory first."

"And it has to be one that your parents will believe too."

Steve nods, then pauses, a frown knitting together his eyebrows. "Wait, when did we get together? We can't have just started dating that's— like, almost as bad as showing up without a girlfriend."

You blink, perturbed. "What?"

"Oh, hey mom and dad." Steve says, his tone sardonic and flat. "Oh yeah, this is my girlfriend who I somehow started dating just one week ago, coincidentally just in time for this family dinner."

You cringe a little. He does have a point.

"Fine." You say. A little worry burrows into your brain — the longer you make your 'relationship', the more details you have to construct, to remember, and recall correctly.

You worry your bottom lip. "How long is long enough though? If it's too long, we have to remember more things."

Steve's mouth twists in thought. He gives a hmm.

"I think the last time you saw my parents was… sometime around New Year's Eve, right? They had that party, d'ya remember?"

You wrack your brain and find a memory with glittering fireworks and greasy hot-dogs. Steve had too much champagne and emptied his stomach into a bush. Faintly, the memory of passing by Mr and Mrs. Harrington fits in there— only for a moment.

"Yeah," You say.

Combing over the last years' events, you try to think if there's anything else you would've seen them at.

Graduation? You try to smooth out the wrinkles of that memory too; sunny day, sweltering gown. You hadn't remembered seeing Steve's parents there. "'Cos they didn't come to graduation, did they?"

"Nope." Steve says, popping the p. He rolls back to lie flat on your bed, folding his hands to rest on his chest. "What about after one of my basketball games? The final one of the season." He proposes, eyes tracking back to you.

You laugh without meaning to, spurred on by Steve's surprise.

"Really? At your basketball game? That's when the sparks went flying and we got together?"

Steve's mouth drops open an inch in offense. He throws his hands up. "What? That's, like, totally romantic." He defends. "Besides, it's a good reason for our friendship to have changed."

"You lost that game."

"I still scored!"

"Fine." You appease, laughing lightly. "We got together after you lost the last basketball game of the season."

Steve wrinkles his nose again. "Well, don't put it like that."

You laugh again, soft and light.

"Who asked who?"

"I asked you." Steve says.

You nod, carefully trying to commit the detail to memory. Your head spins as you try to think up the variety of different questions you might get asked at the dinner.

What sort of questions might his parents ask? Or his brother? They'll probably want to know the basics — how you got together, how it's going. You might get a shake-down to see if you're worthy of dating a Harrington.

Then, of course, there is the matter of ensuring you're a convincing couple. In love enough to be brought along to an exclusive family event.

That means… getting touchy. The thought sends a jolt through your stomach— will you have to kiss?

You bury the thought. You'll cross that bridge and have it's subsequently unavoidable, awkward conversation when you get to it.

You're not sure who'll you will have more trouble convincing; Brandon or Steve's parents. But from what you know of Steve's family, you'd bet none of them know him that well.

For all you know, this could well be a walk in the park. Maybe the easiest free trip to Indianapolis ever earned.

"What's Brandon like?" You ask, trying to get a better sense of who you'll be fooling. "Do you think he'll ask many questions?"

"He's…" Steve's eyes shift from you to the ceiling, his mouth forming a flat line. "An asshole, like my dad. He's got this amazing talent for getting under my skin. Which usually includes undermining just about anything I have going for me in my life. Or—" He gestures to you with a sigh. "—what I actually don't have going."

He rolls his head in your direction, his mouth twisted into a bitchy frown.

"He used to always rat on me to our parents when I was kid. He once got me in trouble for going to see Tommy just because he didn't want to walk me over. Said I disobeyed authority." Steve makes quotations with his fingers.

Your brows raise in disbelief. "Isn't he, like, fifteen years older than you?"

Steve huffs a mirthless laugh. "Yep. Told you, asshole. So, yes, he'll probably ask questions but I don't think he'll expect I'd do something as desperately pathetic as faking a girlfriend so hopefully we'll fly under his radar."

Reaching out, you whack Steve on the arm, relishing in his annoyed ow!

Eyes narrowed, you wait til he's looking at you with his what gives? face before you say, "What you're doing is not pathetic, nor is it desperate. It is an act of survival against your shitty family, okay?"

Steve stares at you for a moment before his shoulders seem to melt, the tension leaking from them. He flops his head back.

"Okay." He murmurs in agreement.

"Alright," You say. "Now, let's get this story straight. We got together at the final game of the season, which would mean we've been together for nearly…"

STEP TWO: THE ACT

Your legs itch and you fight the urge to readjust your tights for the umpteenth time.

Steve, in the driver's seat beside you, drums his hands against the steering wheel too rapidly to be casual. He keeps darting one hand to his mouth, teeth worrying at his thumbnail.

You'd reach out and smack him to get him to stop but you're beginning to feel the lurch of nerves yourself. The drive from your house to Steve's has never seemed so, so entirely too short.

"Okay, uh," Steve's throat clicks, clammed up from his silence for too long.

He hadn't spoken much when he had picked you up, other than to laugh at your joke at the mismatch of yourself and your prim outfit.

You'd ended up finding a double-breasted blazer in your mom's closet and you look almost ready to run as the local mayor. You're even wearing tights.

"We got together the 20th—"

"—of June, last year." You finish for him.

Steve nods, his face still facing forward. His eyes look a tad unfocused, even as he reaches out to adjust the collar of his dress shirt. "Right. So we've been together for, uh, about ten months."

You nod encouragingly, checking the details in your head. "You asked me out. Our first date was—"

"—at The Hawk." Steve cuts in, parroting off your memorised answers. "We saw Labyrinth and, uh, then I drove you home."

That part isn't technically untrue. You and Steve had gone to see Labyrinth together back in June of last year, but it certainly hadn't been a date. You find the details lend themselves quite easily regardless.

"That's when we had our first kiss." You remind him, even if it makes your face heat minisculy. "What did you get me for Christmas?" You quiz.

"Uh," Steve's hand rabbits against the steering wheel, nerves evident. He finally breaks his stare from the road to glance at you, his brows furrowed together, eyes worried. "Fuck, I can't remember."

"It's fine," You stress, waving a hand. "You got me tickets to Billy Joel and we drove out to Indianapolis for the concert in April."

Steve nods a bit too manically, his perfectly coiffed hair coming a bit loose. The houses flashing by the window gradually get bigger, fancier. He bites his thumbnail again and this time you do reach out and tug his wrist away.

"Thanks." He murmurs.

He turns the wheel, the engine droning as the car takes the corner to enter his street. Your nerves hike a mile higher and you tug at your tights fruitlessly again. The street is lined with nice cars — not unexpected for Steve's neighbourhood.

What is unexpected is the sheer volume. You and Steve peer out the car windows, eyes wide, as you take in the full street. When you swallow, your throat feels particularly dry.

You turn to Steve. "I thought they said it was a family dinner?"

Steve, his eyes darting from car to car, either trying to find a park amongst the packed sidewalk or maybe just panicking like you are, takes a moment to meet your eyes. He looks a lovely shade of chalky white.

"They definitely did."

There's a free space down the end of Steve's street, the driveway already full with two cars, neither you can recognise.

Steve's foot hits against the brake too abruptly and the car jerks to a stop, rocking forward. You grip the edges of your seat tightly as Steve kills the engine. For a moment, neither of you make a sound.

"What if there's more than just family in there?" Steve croaks, turning slowly to face you.

The paleness in his face has pitched toward something greener. He swallows heavily, twisting back to stare out the windshield and his hands on the wheel tighten. "Oh my god, this is— this isn't gonna to work."

"Steve."

"Valentines, we did Lover's Lake," Steve mutters to himself, eyes still out the window. "Fuck, this is so stupid."

"Steve," You try again. His own panic is worsening your own and if he continues to spiral, you fear you might never make it out of the car and you did not wear itchy tights for that to happen.

"You got me the Michael Jackson record for my birthday," He rattles off again, almost absentmindedly, as though his mind can't pick between panicking about trying to remember all the details or the apparent extra guests.

"This is— oh my god, we're never gonna convince them."

"Steve." You say firmly. His head snaps around, broken from his mutterings. He blinks at you.

You take a deep, exaggerated breath in. Steve follows instinctively, his shoulders rising as he inhales.

"We will convince them." You insist earnestly.

Offering out your upturned hand, you wait for Steve to shift to place his bigger hand in yours. When he does, your fingers curl around it, cradling it.

You can feel the rabbit of his pulse at your fingertips and you meet his eye as you say, "We know each other—really well. We're best friends. We've practised, we look the part, okay? Now, all we have to do is… be a couple for an evening. It's going to be fine."

Steve swallows and for a moment, he doesn't say anything. Then his breath bursts out in a release of tension, his hand finally squeezing yours back. "God, what would I do without you?"

"Crash and burn, probably." You tease, thankful when unease hanging on his frame is replaced by something more familiar.

Steve makes an appalled noise, tightening his grip on your hand so you can't pull it back. His other hand moves, his fingers dancing across the ticklish skin on the inside of your arm til you shriek out in laughter, yanking your hand back.

Your laughter seems to have dimmed the nervousness a bit. You glance over your shoulder, down the street, and track an older couple dressed primly entering the Harrington home. As you turn back to Steve, you swallow to gather your nerves.

"Ready?"

Steve doesn't look like he is, his shifting, unsure eyes and stressing hands. He pushes his palms against his slacks and takes a sharp inhale, before meeting your eyes. "Ready as I'll ever be."

You count the steps up to the doorway without even meaning to, arriving at the Harrington doorstep in approximately 47 steps. The maroon double doors before you seem taller than usual. Steve raises his hand to knock and then halts, his attention shifting to his upraised hand.

He quickly tucks it back against his side, except this time with his elbow held out for you.

A faint pang of surprise in your chest, coloured with something softer, nicer. You’ve seen somewhat what Steve’s like on his dates and you’ve certainly heard plenty of the aftermath. But you’ve never been on one, of course.

As you loop your arm to nook in his, you find yourself unexpectedly eager to find out exactly what it’s like to be Steve Harrington’s date.

Steve knocks on the door, then twists the knob and lets himself in.

Despite seeing the earlier guests, there’s little to prepare you for the room full of people that stand on the other side of the door. Moving on instinct, clinging to Steve’s arm, you step through the threshold and into the lion's den.

Your nerves fry. Never mind lion's den; you feel more like a fly caught in a web. Frog boiling in a pot? No, that doesn't work because you know exactly what you were signed up to when you said yes to Steve.

Well, not precisely. You survey the crowd, counting at least three times as many people as you were expecting with nervous eyes.

Your little white lie with Steve just graduated to having an entire audience. No pressure, right?

“Steven.”

The croon of Cynthia Harrington greets the pair of you.

You feel Steve stiffen up beside you, his shoulders rolling back, his entire body straightening up. His throat bobs as he swallows nervously.

“Mom,” Steve says. His voice is a bit dry and he swallows again. “You didn’t say there were going to be this many people here.”

He’s polite enough to not word it as an accusation. His niceties don’t work, bouncing off the painstakingly sculpted smile of a businesswoman.

“Please, it’s a networking event, I’m not sure what you expected.” She adjusts her diamond earring, swaying and heavy, as she speaks dismissively. “I told you this, Steven.”

You never hear anyone call Steve Steven other than his parents.

“No, Mom, you didn’t.”

There’s a barely restrained bite in his words.

That catches Cynthia’s attention. She stops her roaming gaze to focus on her son, not even glancing at you. After a moment, she gives an exasperated huff.

“Well, why else would we be back, Steven? Your father is trying to close business with Mr. Collings.”

The sting isn’t even for you — in fact, you don’t even think she realises she’s dealt it — but you feel it all the same. Steve’s arm looped with yours tightens, a minuscule motion.

Though you know he thinks they’re all assholes, it doesn’t stop Steve from hoping they’ll come back for him.

“Right.” Steve says, voice tight. “Sure. Of course.”

You’re just thinking about dragging him away from this barbed conversation, clearly pricking all his sensitive spots, when Cynthia’s sharp gaze slides over to you.

Her eyes gleam in recognition and her posture changes.

“Oh, is this the girlfriend you’ve spoken of?”

This time you’re the one who stiffens up. It’s momentary. You know that Steve’s likely freaking out too and at least one of you has to pull yourself together.

The most winning smile you can manage glides onto your face.

“That’s me.” You squeeze Steve’s arm with your hand. It's half in genuine comfort, half in show.

Cynthia regards you for another long moment before she manages to straighten up further, as though pinched.

“Oh! Yes, I recognise you. Remind me of your name, dear?”

It’s a struggle not to grit your teeth. Steve and you have been friends for nearing ten years now.

Still, you relay it politely for her. Your smile feels a bit wooden now.

“Oh, Steven. How nice.” Cynthia says, a touch of patronisation in her tone. Her beady eyes slice back to yours. “He had such a crush on you for the longest time, it’s—”

“Mom.” Steve hisses, cutting her off. Another unexpected jolt of something warm in your chest. Wait, really?

You chance a glance up at Steve. His ears are tinted pink.

You’re not entirely sure what to make of how that makes you feel, so you shelve it for later. Maybe when you’re not being thrown to the sharks by Steve’s awful parents.

Okay, too many animal metaphors. Falling asleep to the Discovery Channel last night is definitely taking its toll.

“We’re gonna mingle, find Dad.” Steve says hurriedly. He moves forward, past his mother, and tugs you with him. Your legs itch with the reminder of your scratchy tights.

“Alright, Steven. Make sure you say hello to your brother!”

Steve huffs, loud enough that you hear it, and you let him lead you through the throngs of middle-aged people. He stops when he reaches the kitchen, finally unwinding his arm with yours.

He does it so he can shove his hands in his hair, a stressed motion from Steve if you’ve ever seen one.

“God, okay, that went well.” He says sarcastically.

“Stop. You’re ruining your hair.” You reach up and rescue his lochs from his harsh grip, fingers around his wrists to tug his hands away. You’re far too aware of how long it had taken him to do.

Steve lets you. When you focus on his face, you notice the pink from his ears is also on his cheeks.

The question jumps off your tongue, unbidden.

“Was she telling the truth? About… the crush? Or was she just trying to tease you?”

The pink dips closer to scarlet. Steve sighs, his eyes closing for a moment.

“I— she- yes,” He admits. Your heart shudders at the revelation. Steve’s eyes open and he twists his hands so he can hold yours in them. “But, like, not now. In the past. Years ago, I promise.”

For his sake, you do your best not to take it too seriously. Even if you wanted to pry, now is not the time nor the place to do so.

However, you can’t resist a small, teasing grin. Steve catches it and his embarrassment gives way to exasperation instantly.

“You likeeed me,” You say in a sing-song voice.

Teasing is not unfamiliar in your friendship with Steve and getting to joke around, even at this strange party, feels nicer. Steve groans dramatically, his eyes closing and his hands pushing against your hands to shove you away.

A new voice interrupts.

“Liked? I sure hope he likes you now, being his girlfriend and all.”

You and Steve both snap out of your easy joking, remembering that you’re supposed to be presenting as a couple. Head turning to who had spoken, it only takes a couple of seconds for you to place who it is.

He looks a little bit like Steve, but not really.

The eyes are different, not as slanted and he hasn’t got any of Steve’s beautiful moles. But the nose, the mouth, put together with matching brown hair and tan skin, you know who this is without having to ask.

“Brandon.” Steve says. The name is stilted in his mouth.

Brandon smirks, his same hazel coloured eyes dragging a long, scathing once-over of his younger brother. He doesn’t look impressed, if his disinterested expression is anything to go by.

Then he does the same to you.

It’s almost tangible, the prickly feeling of his gaze raked over your body. Searching, hunting, nearly making you want to perk up to gain his approval.

God, Steve was right on the money. This guy is like his father but worse.

“The eye-candy of the month, huh?” He says to you, chuckling as if he’s made a joke.

You consider, then make the decision to throw all pleasantries out the window. You don’t smile back.

“Actually, Steve and I will be coming up on one year soon.”

Tangling your hands back together as you say it, you lean into Steve’s side. It’s warm, smells of his cologne. Only when you gaze up at him, do you let a smile grace your lips. It’s soft and genuine.

Steve smiles back down at you, crooked and lovely.

“I’m surprised anyone could settle him down,” Brandon continues and you turn back to him, fighting the urge to narrow your eyes. It doesn’t escape you how he’s jumped from one slight dig to the next.

He’s clever with it. Polite enough that Steve can’t exactly bring it up as an issue.

Brandon continues, swirling his crystal tumbler of whiskey idly. “Surprised he wanted to. Little bro always seemed like such a womanizer. Didn’t think he’d want just one chick.”

He leans in and socks Steve on the shoulder, hard, when he says the word womanizer. He’s grinning.

You have to admit, Brandon’s far too good at this — good at getting under your skin. If you hadn’t been forewarned of his behaviour, if you actually were Steve’s girlfriend, it would certainly rub you the wrong way. He’s certainly doing his best to sprinkle grit and strife between you two.

And you know it hurts Steve to hear — Sure, maybe when he was a thick-headed freshman, with no clue about the world, he had acted that way.

Nowadays... Anyone who knows Steve, even a little bit, knows he wants the real deal, more than anything.

“Not anymore,” Steve says, though it’s not nearly as confident as he usually is. He clears his throat and casts his gaze around. “Where’s Ariel?”

“Ah,” Brandon hums, looking around himself. He takes a long sip of his whiskey. “Not sure. I think I left her in conversation with the Erickson’s from across the street. She’s been pleading with her eyes to be saved but hey, she’s gotta learn sometime, right?”

Your lip curls up in distaste before you remember yourself. Fingers intertwined with Steve’s, you clutch them tighter for some semblance of strength.

You’ve got to get the two of you out of here before you start outright sneering at this man — which is very much not the heads-down approach Steve had asked for.

“Babe,” you say, effectively dismissing Brandon’s comment as you look up at Steve. He looks down at you and squeezes your hand. “Can we grab a drink, please? I’m feeling thirsty.”

Steve murmurs his affirmation and you both turn back to Brandon to bid a polite goodbye. His left eye twitches just once, the only indication that he’s put off by your subtle rejection.

“Well,” Brandon fixes his features, his smirk sliding back into place. “Don’t let me keep you. What was your name again, sweetheart?”

“I didn’t say.” You say, forcing the politest, more nonchalant expression on your face. You let him stew in the awkwardness, waiting for him to break and ask.

He doesn't. Brandon just smiles, though this time it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He holds out his hand and despite how you don’t want to, you place your own in it to shake it.

“Well, it’s been real nice getting to meet you. I hope I’ll see more of you later tonight.” He smiles like a promise. His grip tightens in the handshake.

You grip his hand tighter, matching his strength, and for the first time in the whole conversation, you match his perfectly fake smile.

“Not if I see you first,” You say, spoken pleasantly enough that the meaning of your words doesn’t sink in until you’ve pulled back. You urge Steve somewhere, anywhere that’s not here.

“C’mon, let’s get that drink.”

There’s a punch-bowl out in the living room, thankfully. Displayed next to it is a large jell-o mould, arsenic green, and jiggling gently whenever someone bumps the table. Rich people stuff, you assume.

You eye it curiously as Steve quietly ladles a cup for you, then himself.

The punch is pineapple flavoured but peachy in colour. You sniff the cup Steve gives you hesitantly before you take a small sip. It’s nice. Mostly juice.

You peer up at Steve over the next sip and the cup hides your near hiccup of surprise when his hand slides along your waist. His hand, warm and large, settles on the small on your back and urges you closer.

“That was— wait, this is okay, right?” He pulls his hand back an inch, hovering over your waist. You nod without having to think about it.

“Okay,” He sighs in relief, resting it back down. His thumb moves, soothing along the fabric almost absentmindedly.

He grins at you, “That was, like, amazing to watch. The whole —not if I see you first— just, god, his face. Amazing.” His hand on your waist squeezes lightly. “You’re amazing. I didn’t know you could be so snobby.”

He says the last word slightly too loud and you laugh, worriedly stealing a glance around the room. No one’s paying you much mind. You do notice, however, that Brandon’s meandered into the living room now.

You sidle closer, tucking up under Steve’s arm.

Surprise touches Steve's features; his brows raising a bit, lips parting, and cheeks colouring that ruby colour once more.

It’s as if, despite all your previous agreements, he’s forgotten that you’re supposed to be acting like a couple.

As if he’s forgotten that couples act like this. In love, that is.

“Are you finding this weird?” He murmurs, volume control on this time. It’s said just to you, muffled into your hairline.

From afar, you think it might look like he’s kissing your forehead.

You take another sip of the punch, peering at his dress shirt, and consider his question. It’s not weird, per se. You tell him as much.

“I think it’s just new,” You look up at him — closer than you usually ever see him. His lashes are long and spidery. His hazel eyes are lighter under the lights. “Just different to what we’re used to. It’s… nice, I think.”

“You think?”

You expect Steve to tease you for your own unexpected soft answer but instead, his response comes out with a strange reverence.

If you had to pick a word, something traitorous would maybe call it hopeful. Wait, traitorous? Wait, hopeful?

"Yeah," You shrug a little, no big deal. "I mean it's not that much different from how we already are, right? Just a little more..."

Steve's thumb swatches along your back, more intentionally this time.

"Touchy?" He provides.

You nod and pretend the strange acknowledgement isn't making you feel a tad more flustered.

The touchiness is really quite nice. It’s sweet to have an anchor in this freaky social situation, very much unlike the aforementioned and abandoned Ariel. Steve’s hand on you is a grounding touch, a constant soft reminder of the person who has your back—literally.

And the person is Steve — which, again, isn’t really that different from what you’re used to. He sorta always has your back anyway.

You suppose it hasn't really crossed your mind before, not in depth at least, the small changes that would occur if you and Steve really did date.

How different would it really be?

Chin tilting up, you slyly steal a look at him as Steve scans the party. He's probably planning escape routes, jaw clenched subtly. He's clean-shaven, not a whisper of that stubble that you think suits him rather well.

Would you still be friends, if the two of you dated?

The question feels silly the moment you think it, even if it's only spoken in your mind. You wrinkle your nose lightly and hide it behind another sip of punch. There's an easy answer to that.

Of course you would. It's like you just said: not that different from how you are now. Same teasing dynamic, same loyal history, same sharing embarrassing secrets and same driving around doing nothing, loving it.

Just more. More of this.

Steve squeezes your side warmly, his head twisted to look back down at you. He's asked you a question you realise.

"Hm?"

"I was asking how long do you think it's acceptable to wait to fake a heart-attack to get us out of here?”

Amusement draws your eyebrows up. You grin up at Steve. "A heart-attack? At your youthful, healthy age? C'mon, Steve, they'll never believe it."

Steve's expression twitches closer to bitchy as he considers your rebuttal. You take another sip of punch. He relents.

"Fine. What else? I’m not above faking haemorrhoids.”

The punch in your mouth comes back out in a surprised splutter, thankfully landing mostly back in your cup. A drop of it streaks down your chin.

Your surprise quickly morphs into a glare, eyes shifting up to deliver it to your best friend.

The shit-eating grin on Steve’s face tells you that his timing was not accidental.

“You’re unbelievable,” You hiss because what happened to the polite, head down, and not eventful approach that Steve had all but pleaded from you?

He reaches for a napkin for you without asking — and then tugs you in closer with the hand around your waist, brings the napkin up to your face. He hovers, giving you a moment to realise what he’s doing, before he dotingly swipes away the streak of juice.

“Careful now, honey,” He says, giving the petname a teasing intonation.

How he managed to pick the petname that does actually make your heart perk up in your chest is beyond you. Maybe he knows you better than you think.

“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be?” You ask, brows raised, pretending to be annoyed. Your bitten-back grin gives you away. “Making me spit my punch and then just sprinkling in a petname—”

“—like you didn’t do that first, with Brandon in the kitchen.” Steve interjects. He crumples the napkin and drops it back on the table.

“Okay," You say. "Fair."

"We forgot to discuss that, actually," Steve says. He sounds casual but he looks away, studying the punchbowl rather intently. "What... like, do you like to be called? In a relationship?"

It is an oversight both of you managed to miss, which makes you feel a little foolish now. You focus on the question.

"I like honey," You admit gingerly. A tepid smile threatens at your lips and when you look up at Steve, he's already turned back to watch you closely. "It's a bit old-fashioned. Sounds more like something you say if you're married but...I think it's nice."

"Yeah," Steve says softly. "Me too."

Something hums brightly in your chest at his gentle expression, his fondness zeroed in only on you. You break his gaze to swallow, your mouth suddenly dry.

"What about you?"

Steve chuckles. "Don't like babe."

"Too late."

“Yeah, well, obviously.”

There’s a beat and you think if you’ve ever had this conversation before. Sweetened preferences didn’t usually make it into your gossip sessions. This is new territory.

“I like sweetheart too,” Steve says, somewhat offbeat. As if he’d thought for too long if he’d say it or not.

He peers down at you, a scrunch in his nose. “Not like Brandon says it though. He might’ve ruined that one for me.”

“He can ruin this dinner, but not that.” You decide for him. “C’mon, sweetheart. We look like we’re stealing all the punch.”

Using your hand in his, you lead him away from the punch table and weave through the people milling about the living room. A touch of resistance makes you glance back. You can see a pink glow painted on Steve’s cheeks.

Your feet come to a halt, twisting back to properly face him. You can’t resist the urge to tease. “Oho, you weren’t kidding- you do like that one.”

“Oh, shut up,” Steve murmurs, his tongue pressed into his cheek and his eyes narrowed.

“I don’t believe I raised you so poorly as to address a lady like that, Steven.”

You jump at the intrusion, realising you’d unluckily managed to stop right beside Mr. Harrington. Fuck, why are all of Steve’s family so good at sneaking up on you? You chalk it up to their snakeish tendencies.

“Dad.” Steve says hurriedly. Then, with a quick swallow, he corrects himself. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Mr. Harrington is not what you’d call an impressive man. Sure, his suit is tailored to fit and you have no doubt his overwhelming cologne costs more than three paychecks combined — but in substance? He lacks. Severely.

You’ve met him thrice.

Every time, you wonder how someone as wonderful as Steve, can come from someone like him.

Though, it certainly explains the god-awful ‘King Steve’ phase Steve had gone through in his freshman and sophomore year. You shiver at the memory.

“It was warranted, Mr. Harrington, believe me,” You jump in to move the attention of Steve’s father back to you, easily shouldering the blame. A smile, cool and collected, graces your face. “I was teasing him, after all.”

Mr. Harrington grunts in disagreement. “Hardly an excuse to speak so crudely, especially in front of guests.”

Opening your mouth to defend him again, Steve speaks first. “You’re right, sir. I apologise, it won’t happen again.”

Steve still shoots you a thankful glance. You clamp down your half-formed response and squeeze his hand instead. He squeezes back.

Maybe the two of you should’ve learned morse-code with all the squeezing you’re both doing. You hadn’t anticipated holding his hand for this long.

You could let go. You don’t really want to — and you’re pretty sure, neither does Steve.

You can’t remember the last time you held his hand.

“Your new girlfriend, I presume?” Mr. Harrington nods to you.

Steve barely gets a moment to respond when his father is waving him forward, stepping back to open a circle of middle-aged men behind him.

“Come, there’s a few associates I’d like you to meet, Steven.”

There’s no question, only a demand. Despite how it feels like stepping into a pit of vipers — damn you, Discovery Channel — you and Steve join the circle.

“Gentlemen,” Mr. Harrington addresses the four men before you, a wry smile on his face. “My son, Steven.”

Then, as an afterthought, with a glance your way. “And his girlfriend.”

“Oh? Not fianceé?” One of the men speaks up. He’s balding, his hair combed over in an attempt to cover his ruddy coloured scalp.

“I’m afraid you’re thinking of my other son, Brandon.” Mr. Harrington says, words suddenly imbued with a proud tone. Steve’s hand grows rigid in yours, though you don’t think he’s even noticed. You send a squeeze back.

A different man speaks up. This man has all his hair, but also has a pot-belly that threatens to send buttons on his dress shirt flying.

“Ah, well, fianceé to be, I bet.” He says, speaking directly to Steve and ignoring you. “Soon it’ll be the ol’ ball and chain. Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, son.”

Then the fucker winks at you—as if you’re in on some big joke. A deep, miserable pity dawns in you for their wives.

“Actually,” Steve begins. There’s an edge in his voice.

You glance up at him concernedly — sure, these guys are douchebags, but you know that. Throwing in the polite and heads-down approach in front of his father might be the worst timing ever.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Steve says. The bite in his voice has receded and instead, he sounds calm. Polite. “My girlfriend is one of the best things in my life. She’s smart, talented, beautiful— and why she chooses to waste her time with me is a mystery to me.”

He speaks as though he believes every word he’s saying, a hundred percent. You realise you’re holding your breath when Steve turns to look down at you. His hazel eyes are soft, genuine.

“She makes me a better person. She’s… She’s my best friend.”

The line between your genuine friendship and this fake concocted act blurs entirely — and suddenly, you can’t tell what is real and what is not.

Worse, you’re not sure which you'd prefer more.

Does he really think all those things about you?

Steve, who should probably, definitely take up an acting gig after this, plants a quick, nimble kiss on your forehead to sell his loving words.

He turns back to his father’s business friends.

“Believe me, if I ever get so lucky as to marry her, I’d be the ball and chain.” He chuckles. “Not the other way around.”

You’re still holding your breath, heart stuck somewhere halfway up your throat. The businessmen before you show varying amounts of surprise and annoyance—none more of the latter than Mr. Harrington himself.

It doesn’t matter. Steve’s said it all in that perfectly polite way that’s so often been used against him. Something within you glows hotly with pride.

“Now, gentlemen, if you’ll excuse us,” Steve says politely. He drops your hand to re-link your arms once more, then nods to them. “I need to reapply my haemorrhoid cream.”

You’re pretty sure Steve turns you both away from the conversation as fast as he does, knowing that you’re gonna laugh. You do, his last sentence so unexpected it turns your laugh into this foul half hacking, half coughing noise.

Steve pats your back, expecting it, raising his voice as he walks you forward, “There, there.”

There’s a little smugness in his tone. You wait until you pass back into the front hall — now Cynthia Harrington free — to unlink your arms and smack him on the chest.

“Asshole!” You exclaim, but you’re already laughing. Steve’s laughing too, the sound bright and honeyed amongst the dull murmur of the event. God, the looks on their faces.

“I didn’t think you would actually do that.”

“Hey, it got us out of the conversation, didn’t it?”

“Yes, but,” You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, gaze falling from his for a moment. “I mean, won’t your dad…?”

Steve sighs and then shrugs. “I think I’m done trying to impress people like that. If you’re not up to standard to them, why the hell would I care about their opinion of me?”

Your heart feels a little wobbly at that. Steve has always been devastatingly earnest; it’s just less often directed at you. The two of you are used to teasing.

You fall back on it. “Awww,” You coo, gripping his forearms and leaning forward with a coy grin. “You got haemorrhoids for me, honey? That’s so romantic.”

Steve narrows his eyes, trying and failing to suppress his own smile.

“Hey. Fake haemorrhoids, thank you very much.”

“Eh, what’s the big difference?”

“One is my bleeding heart, the other is my bleeding ass, is the big difference.”

He can barely get through the sentence before his laugh takes over. You dissolve into laughter too, cheeks beginning to ache with the force of your grin.

“Steve? Leaving so soon?”

The sweet bubble of laughter around you and Steve pops at the sound of Brandon’s voice. He’s in the doorway that leads to the kitchen and at your attention, he steps toward you, slow and deliberate.

“Yeah, actually,” Steve says. His eyes track Brandon with every calculated step his brother makes til he stops, a few metres from you both.

“Y’know, I heard that hasty exit in front of dad. Did you know that was in front of Mr. Collings? Y’know, the one guy dad’s trying to close a deal with?”

Shit. You swallow heavily. You didn’t know that. You know neither did Steve.

Beside you, Steve grows tense. When he swallows, you hear his throat click from dryness.

Brandon watches and revels in the tiny reactions, his smirk growing. He tucks his hands into his suit pockets casually.

“I talked with mom, too. Learned some interesting stuff, especially about your pretty lady here.”

He nods to you, hazel eyes slicing across to meet yours. Your nerves start to stand on end, something threatening in his calm demeanour setting you off. You grip Steve’s forearms tighter.

“That she is the best friend you’ve been mooning over all these years. And I just thought—” Brandon clicks his tongue. “Man, what are the chances that we don’t hear a thing about you two getting together until this conference? Crazy timing, if you ask me.”

He tilts his head to the side, examining the two of you closely. His smug nature is far, far too much like that of a predator toying with its prey.

“It’s like- wait, no—”

Brandon cuts himself out, fishing a hand out his pocket to gesture to you, grinning smugly like something is funny.

“Is he paying you?”

You recoil back, so baffled and taken aback by the cruel mockery Brandon jumps to make of his younger brother. To make of your best friend.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You snap.

Brandon blinks, surprised, and a bit of his smugness dries up. He draws his hand back, holding it up defensively.

“C'mon, like it's not just the kind of pathetic move he’d pull. I haven’t even seen the two of you kiss.”

He chuckles as if the idea is ludicrous.

STEP THREE: THE KISS

You act without thinking — turning back to Steve, your hands reach up to tightly grasp the collar of his dress shirt.

You see Steve’s hazel eyes widen ever-slightly, then you’re pulling him down, pressing up on your toes, and kissing him.

And… oh.

He’s not half bad at that, you think. It takes Steve a moment, but then his arms circle your waist and after a tentative moment, he kisses back gently, deepening the kiss. Not bad at this at all.

For one brief, precious second, you’re kissing your best friend.

And it's entirely incomparable to any kiss you've experienced before—immeasurable in passion and utterly undoing in a thousand ways.

Steve breathes a little heavier, his cheeks flushed, when you break away. You sink back down off your tiptoes, hands dragging off Steve’s rumpled collar to rest on his chest. You turn to face Brandon.

He doesn’t look so smug anymore. He looks ticked off. Good.

“Brandon, you’re an asshole.” You state plainly. “I hope one day, soon, your fiancée realises what a cruel and shallow bully you really are. And I hope she leaves you for it. Truly.”

The ticked off expression on Brandon's face veers closer to aghast and offended—as if he can’t believe you have the gall to speak to him that way.

“I hope you realise what a stain you are on other people’s life and I sincerely hope that I never have the displeasure of meeting you again.”

Moving to grip Steve’s hand in yours, you move towards the door without a goodbye.

STEP FOUR: THE AFTERMATH

It’s bright outside. Stepping out feels a bit like waking from a stress dream, where in reality, the sun is shining and things that were driving you nuts aren't really problems you actually have.

You stall on the front doorstep, where you were just an hour or so ago.

Well, that didn’t go… awfully, you think. In fact, you’re feeling quite happy with serving Brandon a perfect brand of his own medicine.

You’re about to open your mouth and say as much when Steve drops your hand, brushing past you to head down the stairs, “C’mon, let’s go.”

Your stomach drops at the tone of his voice, a prickly disappointment draped over his words. You’d think you’re reading into it — if Steve wasn’t currently heading for the car, not even waiting for you to catch up. A dead giveaway.

Tights itching from the hasty movement, you quickly follow him and puzzle for a moment. He’s mad. But at what? It takes only a moment to hazard a pretty good guess.

Before the dinner, the awkward conversation of how touchy you two would be had been breached. You and Steve both agreed; no kissing. Even with how close the two of you were, it felt like strange territory to cross into. An unspoken line not to cross.

By kissing him, you’d broken that rule.

Guilt wells up within you. Your moment of telling Brandon to suck it suddenly feels tainted by the sliminess of kissing Steve without permission. You pull at your tights uncomfortably, trailing behind Steve on the sidewalk.

As you reach his car, you swallow the lump in your throat, and speak up.

“I'm sorry, okay?"

Steve, who's reached the driver's side door, looks up and over the top of the car. Then furrows his brow.

"What?"

"For..." The word gets stuck in your throat like wet paper. "Kissing you when we said we wouldn't do that. That was-" You inhale sharply and study the trim along the edge of the car window.

"I just really couldn't stand how he was talking to you. And I thought that would shut him up."

You glimpse back up at Steve. He's softened a little at your words, the crease between his brows gone now. His eyes dart away, a muscle in his jaw working tightly.

"Yeah, well, you were right. It worked."

Steve seems to hear how short his words sound right after he says them, especially as you rear back an inch. He gives a sigh, his eyes falling shut for a moment. "Look, I'm not mad about the kiss, okay?"

His particular wording isn't lost on you.

"But you are mad." You press.

"I'm not."

You step closer to the car, desperate to understand. He is mad but he's not mad about the kiss? Does that mean he is or isn't mad at you?

"You sound mad."

Steve makes a sputtering noise, like he's torn between denying it or not. You catch it, pressing your hands against the car window to lean in even closer.

"So, you are mad. At me? Are you sure it's not because of the kiss?"

“Yes. No." He's furrowing his brow again, confused between how to answer your question correctly. He pinches the bridge of his nose with another sigh. "It’s- no, I'm not mad at you.”

Still not an exact answer. You eye him warily, your guilt still lingering at the front of your chest, aching painfully. It forces out your next words, reminiscent of a rambling apology. You take a step back from the car and begin to pace.

"It's okay if it is the kiss, Steve. I- I mean, we said we wouldn't and I broke that- and I don't want you to ever feel like—"

“I just— I didn’t want our first kiss to be like that!”

That halts your pacing, feet quite suddenly rooted to the spot. You turn rapidly back to Steve, your eyes wider than they were a moment ago, heart jammed back up your throat. Did he just say...?

Steve realises what's escaped him a moment after you do. His hand leaps to cover his mouth as if he can smother the secret he's just let slip.

His eyes crush closed. He smushes his hand against his face more forcefully as though he's trying to push the words back into his mouth.

"What does that mean?" You ask softly. "Steve?"

He clears his throat, dragging the hand down and off his face sluggishly. "That, ah, no- nothing!" He deflects, hands making a crossing motion. "It means—zilch. I just, ah, you know- it's—"

He's thought about it before—about how he'd want a first kiss between the two of you to go.

A glow in you dissolves, the saturated sweetness of it riding through your veins like a sugar rush. You have a sudden wish you weren't wearing such a ghastly outfit for this conversation.

"Steve," You interrupt him. You round the front of the car slowly, stopping with still some distance between you. Let him meet you in the middle. If you're right about all this, that is.

"If there's even a small part of you that wants to do that again," Your breath shudders at your inhale. "You need to tell me."

"A small part?" Steve echoes your words, his tone incredulous. He rounds the car to meet you, his hands out in front of him, flexing into fists. "Don't— don't say what I think you're going to say, if you don't mean it."

He pauses in front of you, eyes blazing with a fierce emotion as he stares down at you. He studies your face and then groans, tipping his head back and burying his hands in his hair.

"It's a big part, y/n. A huge fucking part of me wants to kiss you again and has wanted to for awhile." Steve stresses. His hands sag down from his mussed hair to hang off his neck before he gestures back to the Harrington house.

"What I said in there? About my crush on you being ages ago? I lied. I've had a crush on you for years and I don't think I ever stopped and so if you don’t mean what I think you mean, please don’t… Don’t give me hope.”

There's desperation in his final plea.

A thousand emotions course through you, all competing for your attention. You squint incredulously at Steve, half tempted to sock him for the feeling of a kept-secret. You're best friends for gods sake. Years. Years, he said.

A tremble takes your heart. You open your mouth and try to find the right words.

"Wha... You never said anything."

It comes out a little insulted.

Steve stares at you, flabbergasted. "You never seemed interested!"

"I didn't think I was your type!"

Though it seems impossible, Steve's eyes widen further, his hands shifting to hold out before him, fingers spread wide.

"Are you saying you've thought about it before!?"

"No!" You exclaim, suddenly stressed. You run your hands across your face agitatedly. "I mean, yes. Of course, I've thought about it before!”

Your fingers splay against your cheeks, pulling an expression not unlike the painting The Scream. You're not sure you've ever been this stressed, this undone before.

“Every day through fuckin' high school someone asked me if we were a thing. I just... hadn't, like, considered it til today. Properly."

"Okay, okay," Steve breathes in deeply.

He brings his hands together, clasping them, and he rests them against his forehead. For a second, he stares at the ground before he meets your gaze, dropping his hands.

"And... now?"

Fuck. Right. Cards on the table, you guess.

"Like," You don't know where to put your hands now. They drop off your face and hang loosely at your side. "I told you, I hadn't really, like, thought about it — but we were in there and it just wasn't that different!"

It's a heavy effort to keep yourself looking at Steve. There's no decoding the expression on his face, not when you're already frantically trying to unscramble your own feelings.

"If we did actually, yanno—" You stumble over the words, a fierce and bumbling heat flaming your face. "—date and be—I don't know—boyfriend and girlfriend, like, I guess what would actually change? And now I think we've just been one step removed from dating this whole time!"

Steve takes an almost quivering breath in and takes a step forward, bringing you both closer. He asks the million-dollar question.

"Would you... want that?"

"I," You flex your hands anxiously. "I don't think we can go back to the way things were." You say truthfully.

Something crestfallen ripples across Steve's face. It's hidden away in the next second. You gulp involuntarily. You feel so nervous you can feel it's fizzing inside you, bubbling like a freshly carbonated drink.

But more than that, it feels like you're balancing on the precipice of something good. Like waiting for news on whether you get something you desperately want.

And there it is; the true revelation.

"And I don't think I want to."

The admittance hangs between you, strung out and tinged with your apprehension and Steve's disbelief. He stares at you, brown hair tousled and messy, pink lips parted in his surprise.

He's your best friend and he's been waiting all this time. Holding the torch quietly, the flame flickering low sometimes, but always burning, always for you.

How the hell did you miss it?

"You..." He croaks. He reaches up and tugs at his tie as if it's suddenly too tight around his neck. "You mean that? You'd want to, like, date me?"

What you really want is to kiss him again. To chase away the tender look of disbelief in his eyes with a passionate press of your mouth against his. But you won't kiss him without asking twice in one day.

"I would like to try," You say. It takes a lot of courage to not lose your nerve. You rock up onto the balls of your feet to let out some of the rampant nervous energy.

Steve clocks it, some part of his brain that knows you, and all your tells well, finally coming back online. You're as nervous as he is, and maybe just as unsure.

But you want to try.

That's about all Steve's ever wanted. A chance for more between you.

He closes the distance between you, his hands shifting up and sliding along your neck to cup your jaw. It's ticklish enough to make you shiver and Steve smiles at the motion. He draws your faces closer and you push up on your toes to reach properly, magnetically drawn in.

He pauses just before your lips can touch.

Your eyes scan his face and he does the same to yours, both of you drinking in the intimate closeness. This close, you can see the tiny quiver hidden in his lips.

Fondness percolates between you, sweeter than sunlight and softer than a daydream. You can't resist the smile that toys at your mouth. Steve smiles too.

You're excited.

His pupils are blown wider than usual, only a ring of hazel around them. It might be your new favourite colour.

"I imagined," Steve murmurs lowly, his eyes now trained on your lips. "Our first kiss would be more like this."

The kiss is different from the one in the hallway. There's no surprise in it, no hesitance — Steve cradles your face between his hands preciously and kisses you so fiercely you ache.

He kisses with painstaking reverence. With an unfaltering adoration. Steve kisses you as though he envies anything that's ever touched your lips.

You grapple to find purchase on his suit jacket, your fingers curling around the material and pulling him closer without breaking the kiss. Steve hums into your mouth, his nose pressing against yours. You're both trying to pull each other closer.

"That was-" You breath heavily against his mouth as the kiss breaks. Your eyes open. Steve's gazing at you through his lashes, honey-eyes doting.

"You-" You try again, realising you haven't finished your sentence. You can barely get a word out, a relentless grin overtaking your lips. "I mean—you thought it- like that?"

"I hoped." Steve whispers. He's grinning too, not yielding any of the nearness between you. His thumbs on your jaw swatch softly across your skin.

God, he'll undo you entirely. This newness, this intimacy, it's ruining you. You capture your bottom lip with your teeth and bite it meanly to try to contain your grin.

"So, like, you wanna try? For real?" You say, matching his whisper. Speaking too loud feels like it breaks the moment—and you want to savour it as long as you can.

You can't even imagine how Steve must be feeling, waiting all those years. You take your feelings and multiple them tenfold. It's dizzying. It only endears you even more.

"Like, being boyfriend girlfriend?"

Steve's eyes crinkle in happiness as he scrunches them closed for a moment. His nose scrunches a little too at the motion. He takes a deep inhale and opens his eyes.

"Dating, boyfriend girlfriend, sweethearts, I don't care what you call it." He breathes. "Yes. Yes, to all of it."

Then he kisses you again, stealing the affection off your lips with an ardour that threatens to make your knees weak.

You kiss and kiss until you and Steve are both smiling too much to properly continue.

Only a couple days ago he'd asked the same question you had asked him, except as a begged request to help his ruse. He's the only one you'd have said yes to, you know now, the only exception.

One can only wonder how the two of you would have carried on if you had said no — never gone along with his frankly ridiculous plan, never showed up on his arm to fool an event full of people, never kissed him just to piss off his brother.

Never known the true depths of affection Steve held for you.

As you crowd in closer — your lips skimming across his gently, hearing the hitch in Steve's breath before you kiss him once more— you're thankful you'll never really know.

taggin some peeps below! @illyrianbitch @headkiss @brettsgoldstein @spideystevie @djotime

@katsu28 @inthehystericalrealm @djarinova @cheugyphobe @sunshinesteviee

@sunlitide @citrinesparkles @bigfrogs

just ppl that either expressed interest in the preview or i thought would enjoy! <3 i don't know what possessed me to pick this draft up and straight up like double the word count and finish it in one day but whew,,, i enjoyed that sm

[hot-patootiee]

All fluff, omg so much tooth rotting fluff. You will get cavities from reading.

On A03

Their relationship was tentative at best.

Eddie had made out with a bruised Steve Harrington after he and Billy got into a fight. Eddie had looked at his lips for a second too long to be fully heterosexual and BAM! Kissing. (No Eddie wouldn’t tell him this was his first kiss.)

The details Eddie got were hazy at best, but Steve’s concussion could be the cause of the vague details.

It’s not like they were necessarily close. Emotionally, not physically.

Eddie sometimes worried that Steve’s queerness was something that would soon be blamed on the concussion.

But faithfully, every day, Eddie received a scrap of paper with either the location of a bathroom or empty classroom.

He’d go there, mildly expecting being jumped for being queer, but instead Steve would jump out at him and press him against the closest wall. He’d pull up on the underside of Eddie’s thighs and sometimes sit him on the sinks or the empty desks.

Eddie almost felt like Steve’s girlfriend. He had heard whispers about how he’d meet women in bathrooms for a little midday makeout session.

They obviously couldn’t be seen in public, but in their private spaces, Steve would nose along Eddie’s neck. Breathing him in and tasting him like it was all he wanted.

It was enough to give a guy mixed signals.

Steve was like king jock (not anymore, but still) guys like that didn’t engage in actual meaningful homosexual affairs.

It wasn’t until Eddie was given a time and date, accompanied by the location Skull Rock.

He was again suspicious, like any queer in a small town.

He nearly shat himself when he was tackled by a laughing Steve Harrington. They rolled over a few times on the leafy ground. Eddie’s panic rapidly faded into awkward laughter as he noticed there was nobody else.

“Heya Teddie!” Steve laughed out, a distinct tinge to his voice as he tried out the new nickname on his tongue.

“Heya Stevie!” Eddie mocked, finally laughing in earnest.

“Sorry we can’t meet in public. Kinda kills me that I can’t show you off.” Steve was nosing along Eddie’s neck, seeming most at home tucked as closely to Eddie as possible.

“Yea.” Eddie replied in a stringy tone, suddenly breathless at the implication of Steve’s words.

“I got this ready for us instead.” Steve gestured towards skull rock, but Eddie couldn’t see it yet. He had to wait until Steve was done peppering kisses up the side of Eddie’s face. Eddie’s face scrunched, a little ticklish at Steve’s quick kisses.

When Steve pulled away, Eddie was released of Steve’s weight, allowing him to look at what Steve had previously been gesturing to.

And oh my goodness.

What sat at the base of skull rock was a picnic. There was a plaid patterned blanket, little throw pillows, fucking candles, and a goddamn rose in a little vase.

So maybe Eddie had missed a few obvious signals that he and Steve were dating. But holy shit, even in his best dreams it was some guy in a dingy bar or an alley. He had never even allowed himself to imagine being dated.

It was a strange and new idea that Eddie found himself quickly falling in love with.

“Thought four months was long enough without an actual date.” Steve laughed self consciously, evidently nervous at his mistake.

“Nah, it’s no problem.” Eddie shrugs, unable to tear his eyes away from the FUCKING PICNIC BASKET.

Steve pulls Eddie up off the ground and guides him over to sit on a little strawberry printed throw pillow. It’s so goddamn sickly sweet that Eddie feels warmth pulse in his chest. His face was hot and red as he got a closer look at the setup.

There were little sandwiches, cut into precise triangles. They didn’t even look store bought!

He could see a little thermos and strawberries peeking out of the basket.

Instead of wine or any sort of booze, there was a large pitcher filled with apple juice.

Steve finally sat himself down too, right next to Eddie, letting their thighs press together.

Steve pulled the food from the basket. Unloaded carefully cut apple slices and grapes.

“Seedless.” Steve clarified. Eddie was suddenly struck with how closely Steve had been paying attention to him. His childish preference for seedless being carried with a sort of intimacy he wasn’t used to.

Eddie couldn’t help it. He kissed Steve, who was in the middle of still unloading the basket. The thermos he was holding clattered to the ground as Steve quickly hiked his leg over Eddie’s and pushed Eddie down onto the blanket.

A sudden snap interrupted the moment, making Eddie tense. But Steve just stroked his cheekbone gently.

“It’s okay!” Steve comforted, before kissing Eddie again.

Steve’s refusal to pull away struck Eddie like a knife. His chest felt so tender, like his heart was visible and the gravity of such a small gesture sunk into his bones.

Even when they stopped kissing, Eddie couldn’t bring himself to let go of Steve. He met Eddie’s inability to let go with a laugh and pulled him up with him, leaning back slightly to extract the small sandwiches.

Steve turned back and Eddie’s eyes were full of tears.

“What’s wrong?” Steve probed, but Eddie couldn’t speak. He choked, unable to talk as tears began to carve rivers down his cheeks.

Eddie was crying, and his chest was heaving without his consent as he buried his face in Steve’s shoulder.

Half formed words choked out from Eddie’s throat. Each emerging wet and unrecognizable from their original intent. In the absence of words, Eddie shook his head, hard, attempting to indicate that there was nothing wrong.

“Are you okay?” Steve questioned, his hands coming back to Eddie’s face and trying to wipe away his tears. His calloused hands rubbed over Eddie’s cheeks gently. It was an awkward angle as Eddie’s face was still half buried in the side of Steve’s neck.

Eddie couldn’t help, but cry harder. He had never dreamed of feeling so revered and cared for that all the warmth was bubbling up from his chest and spilling out of him.

Eddie is nodding through the tears, but Steve still doesn’t seem fully convinced. He just rubs Eddie’s back as his crying putters out.

“ ‘m sorry. It’s just really nice.” Eddie finally manages to choke out. “Never thought I’d get this.”

And Steve’s heart just breaks a little at his words. He was just dating Eddie how he’d date anyone else. Concocting intimate dates to really get to know someone. Stolen moments during the day when scheduling won’t allow contact.

Steve hadn’t known that just because Eddie was a man, it’d be different.

He’d tried to make this date a little extra special to make up for his inability to take Eddie to a diner or movie theater. But he didn’t expect this response.

When they trade kisses during the date, it still mildly tastes like salt. As they eat, it changes, the salt gives way to strawberry and chocolate.

.❤️❤️❤️.

I swear even completely out people still flinch away when someone comes in the room. Like holy shit, you are a lesbian and everyone knows, why tf do we have to jump away from each other when someone comes near.

[resident-gay-bitch]

Post upside down Steddie become kinda friends, they hang around eachother a lot because they both like to hang around the freshmen (they’re both anxiously attached to the kids and need to keep them safe 24/7)

Steve kinda thinks Eddie’s cute and dorky but doesn’t really give it much more thought because it’s pointless and Eddie is trying to get over his pointless crush on Steve because even though he’s actually not an awful person anymore he’s still Steve Harrington and that’s embarrassing for Eddie

Until one afternoon Eddie starts giving Lucas shit because he wants to play a oneshot with the kids but the weather is nice so Steve asked him to shoot some hoops and Eddie can’t believe Lucas would — again — choose stupid sport over D&D - goes on his whole laundry baskets spiel

And Steve just Doesn’t wanna hear it.

“Hey man, I get it alright, jocks fucking bullied you in school, sure you can have a problem with that but You’re a fucking bully foo Eddie. You talk about prejudice against those different to you, how about you hating anyone that’s not a fucking freak? You can’t just hate someone cause they like playin ball. Grow up man, get over yourself. You think it’s impressive that I changed since highschool? The day that You change and get some compassion will be the day that pigs fucking fly! Come on Lucas, let’s get out of here”

And Eddie just… he just… he falls in love immediately. He’s never had someone brave enough to talk to him like that before (besides Wayne and Hopper), can’t believe Steve has a big enough heart that he’d go off at Eddie like that, not to mention he’s even hotter when he’s mad and that anger is directed right at Eddie. And so he begins to Pineeeeeeeeeee. And he also thinks about what Steve said to him, talks to Wayne about it, realises that Steve’s actually right and starts to make a change.

After that day, Steve’s crush Dissapears. He can’t believe he ever was attracted to an asshole like that, someone that spent his whole life being made fun of for his interests going out of his way to make fun of someone else for his interests. Steve just doesn’t like that at all.

And so, the slowburn of Eddie growing and making himself a better person and genuinely making those changes in his life, and trying his best to play it cool around Steve, and Steve begging to see those changes in Eddie’s growth and begging to fall in love with him too.

And once they’re together, because Steve is a big believer in second chances so long as you prove you deserve one, Eddie admits that Steve was the first person to ever really stand up to him without fear, and that he really respects Steve for it, and so Steve will always tell Eddie when he’s in the wrong and Eddie really appreciates it and makes that change. And Eddie does the same for Steve too.

They just make eachother better because they believe in being better. They believe in kindness and forgiveness and compassion.

[ash5monster01]

hi hi!! could i please order the chicken wings extra hot to dine in, with a side of onion rings and a lemonade :)

Order #1

Now Serving!

Main Course: Steve Harrington x FemReader

Ingredients: 18+, MDNI, smut, angst, enemies to lovers, hate sex, fingering, handjob, semi-public, p in v, dirty talk, lots of teasing, close proximity, language, no use of protection, no use of y/n

Meal: Steve Harrington angst/smut, enemies to lovers, with hate sex.

Total: $30.98 = 3k words

Menu - Masterlist

You could kill Robin, fingers twitching with a need to strangle, as her drunk form slumped onto Vickie. This was her fault, dragging you here and then getting so drunk she didn’t realize what she had just done. It had been a miracle she had gotten you to agree to ride with her and Steve in the first place, a deep hatred boiling in you for the brown haired boy. Now here she was, inebriated and fawning all over Vickie who had just agreed to take her home instead. Leaving you with the two options of walking home seven miles in the cold or riding back alone with Steve “The King” Harrington. 

“It’s really no problem. I only had one drink, and I kind of want to go with her.” A heavy blush paints Vickie’s cheeks at her confession, a protective arm wrapped around Robin who could barely keep her eyes open. 

“Go ahead, the spare key is under the mat,” Steve tells her, trying to hide the way his skin crawls at the idea of letting the drunk girl out of his sight. A need to take care of her tugging at his heart. He had half a mind to follow behind them but he also knew Robin would never forgive him if he did. This was her moment. 

“Thank you, I promise we’ll be safe,” she says once more before stalking off, a smiling Robin stumbling beside her. As soon as they’re out of earshot, you let out a huff, arms crossing tightly over your chest. 

It’s then Steve realizes that even the two drinks you had did nothing to lighten your hatred towards him. Not that he cared, it would just save him the trouble of you acting bratty on the way home. 

“Are you riding with me, Princess, or hitch hiking?” he sneers, using the nickname to deem you as high maintenance, no interest in what you decide. The only reason he was still offering is he was quite certain Robin would shave his head while he was sleeping if he had left you behind. 

You glare at him for the nickname. “To be honest I don’t have a preference, Harrington. Both are bad choices,” you state, trying to mask the unease you have at being alone with him. Steve Harrington had been the bane of your existence since middle school. From the moment younger you had slipped a love note in his locker and heard him laugh with his friends as you waited around the corner. What a fool you’d been and an asshole he always was. 

“Fine, walk,” he says with a heavy roll of his eyes, turning to the front yard where his BMW resided with a few other abandoned cars from the party you both had just attended. 

“Not that it matters to you but I don’t have any interest in ruining these new shoes, so I’m coming,” you growl, stomping after him with anger and determination. He made your blood boil and the adrenaline that gave you was better than any drug you could’ve had here. It was enough for you to willingly swing open the door and slide inside of the car. 

“Pretty princess and her poor shoes,” Steve mumbles, joining you in the cab of the car and slamming his door shut behind him. 

You smirk as he turns the key over, the engine rumbling to life. “At least you think I’m pretty,” you tease and he fumes, steam practically coming from his ears at your words. Yet he ignores you, shifting the car into drive and leaving the party in both of your wakes. Hopefully the entire situation as well. 

You last only five minutes before you start fumbling with the radio, unable to take the silence and the close proximity of the evil boy beside you. His cologne invades your senses and stray hairs fall onto his forehead, it was annoying and made your skin crawl. You don’t miss the way he scowls every time you switch it from a song he likes. Finally, you land on a station that plays a staticky version of Waterloo by ABBA, and you’re immediately humming along. 

“God, you have shit taste in music,” Steve mutters, and you roll your eyes. Not the least bit surprised he couldn’t recognize the fun and whimsy of ABBA and instead probably lived by synth rock, Tears for Fear and Starship, all bands who wouldn’t exist without the ones from the 70s, including ABBA. It only made you even more annoyed with him. 

“Damn, I guess I’ll never be good enough for you Harrington,” it’s a low blow, you know it, but he deserved it. You loathed him for all the right reasons, he was smug and cruel, but he loathed you for everything else. The very being of who you were and things you couldn’t change, and that made all the difference. 

“I don’t recall ever saying that, Princess,” he says, fingers gripping tightly over the steering wheel as he sped down the dark street. Determined to get as far away from this night and you as possible. 

“Oh please. It’s always something about me having bad taste in music. I’m too loud. Not good looking enough to date,” the last one slips out as you mock him, words uttered from so long ago, heavy laughs bellowing through the halls and shattering your heart even more. A bitter taste settles on your tongue and you accept that your anger has revealed more of your feelings than originally planned. 

Silence fills the car, a realization settling over Steve as the last few years play behind his eyes. He had despised you for making assumptions about him, always seeing the worst, and never giving him the benefit of the doubt. Now he knew there was reason, something tangible enough to fuel this fire towards him for so long. You had overheard him and his friends all those years ago and suddenly some of your resentment had become reasonable. Yet a new spark of anger hits him, annoyed at you for not being honest with him from the start, and instead assuming it had been him who said those vicious words all those years ago. Now it made sense why you hated him so much when he had become friends with Robin. No matter what he did, or your shared best friend said, you still wouldn't give him an inch. Instead you had been making his life hell for so long instead of just asking him for the truth. 

“And this is supposed to make me pity you? You are always calling me an asshole, assuming I don’t care about anyone, pestering me by asking when was the last time I did something nice for someone? God it drives me nuts!” he gasps out, mocking you right back, and his dismissal of your words reignites the deep hatred for him in a whole new way. You knew some of your claims had been unjust, that he did in fact care deeply for many people, and had just been nice enough to still drive you home. It still didn’t change the fact that he thought he was better than you when you pined after him all those years ago. 

“Yeah well someone ought to put you in your place,” you huff, watching as he slams the gear shift into park, now across the street from your house. All the lights are off inside, your parents probably expecting you to stay the night with Robin. 

“Yeah well, someone should put you in yours,” he exclaims as he turns to face you, no longer half focusing on the road. He cuts the engine, either to not wake your neighbors or yell at you more, you’re not sure. Yet when the headlights go out and you’re both left in the dark, something electric fills the vehicle. 

“Oh yeah? And how exactly would someone do that?” you ask viscously, body instinctively leaning closer with a need to hurt him or maybe something else. 

Steve isn’t sure what comes over him, whether it was the adrenaline from the current fight, or the single beer he had at the party, whatever it was he finds that his distaste for you borderlines with something heavier. A desperate need tugging at him and as he studies your face, eyebrows high and angry, he finds himself grabbing the back of your head and smashing his mouth against yours.

You don’t react, a bit shocked but a little fuzzy from the blood pumping in your veins and Steve Harrington’s lips against yours. You hate that he tastes like mint and cigarette smoke, a dizzying combination, and you also hate that it makes you melt into his embrace. Your anger matches his own, bleeding into something else that brings you to grip the collar of his shirt. When it’s clear you’re both participating in this shocking turn of events, Steve dares to dart his tongue into your mouth, tasting and memorizing the feeling of you against him. He’s on autopilot, embracing the heat of your anger, and lust stirring something deep in him that yearns for more of you. 

“This doesn’t change anything, by the way,” you say when his mouth finds your neck, sucking and scraping teeth against skin as your perfume invades his senses. His hands light your skin on fire, and when one of his palms cups your breast, it’s shocking how wet you get for him. 

“Trust me, I still can’t stand you,” he mutters against your skin but his hands roaming every inch of you says otherwise. Knowing you’re both on the same page, you surprise even yourself by tugging your shirt off your form, detaching Steve from your neck for only a moment before his lips find his way trailing down your skin and to the tops of your breasts. 

“Sure seems like it,” you say in a heavy breath, fingers tangling in his hair when he pulls one of the cups of your bra down and runs a tongue over your hardened nipple. He growls against your flesh, fingers brushing softly over your stomach as his hand travels down and under your skirt. He doesn’t regard the material of your panties, merely tugging it to the side when a calloused finger drags through your wet folds. 

“Same goes for you,” he smirks, now aware of how turned on you were for him. Quickly he teases your clit and enjoys the feeling of you soaking his fingers. You want to give a snarky comeback but it feels too good, the arousal coming from the deep hatred the both of you shared. There was something hotter about the fact it was Steve of all people making you feel like this. Both of you too worked up to care if it was the other filling that need. 

Instead of yelling at him some more you tug him close and put your lips back on his. He accepts the kiss the same time his free hand circles around your back and finds the clasp of your bra. It annoys you even more that he’s able to undo it with just one hand, the straps falling down your shoulders and leaving your upper half completely bare. You couldn’t be anymore thankful for the fact your parents were asleep right now. He stops kissing you only to suck a nipple into his mouth the same time he plunges a finger deep into you. You can’t suppress the loud moan that falls from your lips at the combined sensation. He grins against your skin and moves to tease and suck your other nipple, finger pumping in and out of you as you drip against his hand. 

“Jesus, you’re so wet,” he mumbles against your chest, leaving a trail of hickeys in his wake that you knew would fuel your anger even more in the morning. 

Wanting to feel like you have some sort of control you reach for his pants, hand traveling blindly until you feel his hard length taut against his zipper. You grip him over the fabric, feeling his body shutter against yours despite the pesky center console in both of your ways. Almost as if he was arguing physically, he adds a second finger, feeling you clamp down on his hand the same time you begin to drag down his zipper. With much effort you finally have him freed from his pants, heavy length squeezed tightly in your palm, thumb rubbing the beads of precum softly against his tip. His cock twitches from the touch, giving way how good it is for him too, and for just a moment instead of hating each other, you both jerk each other off. 

“Fuck it, take those panties off,” he demands, hand slipping out from under your skirt. You want to disobey, glare at him for trying to boss you around, but then you watch him suck his fingers clean and without a single thought you lift your hips and slide the fabric out from under your skirt. At the same time Steve slides his seat as far back as it can go before discarding his shirt and tugging his pants and boxers down to his knees. 

“Come here,” he says once your panties are abandoned on the floor along with the wedges you previously didn’t want to destroy on the walk home. You move quickly, hands finding his shoulders as your leg swings over his lap and center console. You clench around nothing when his hardened length brushes against your heat now sat over him. You grind softly against him, watching as his eyes close before grabbing the handle on the side of the seat and watch as it lays him almost all the way down. 

“I’m in charge now,” you tell him, feeling his fingers tighten around your hips as you reach between you both to grab him again. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as you drag his tip through your folds, using your wetness to make it easier to take all of him. He was bigger than any guy you’d had before but you’d never tell him that. Instead you press him against your entrance and slowly sink down until he’s all the way inside. You don’t move at first, hands steadying yourself on his hairy chest that only makes you even more wet. It was a curse that he was this attractive for an asshole. 

“Are you trying to kill me?” he asks after you don’t move for a long time and you roll your eyes before lifting and sinking back down. His head falls back against the seat when you do and the reaction causes you to find a pace, moving up and down and gasping every time he hits the right spot. Pretty soon it’s no longer about pleasuring him but finding that angle that feels just right. When you start grinding back and forth with him inside you, whining as the coil inside you begins to tighten. Steve sees his opportunity, reaching to rub circles onto your clit so you’ll cum before he does. He didn’t need the extra embarrassment of finishing too soon, especially with you of all people.

“I’m close,” you tell him, panting out your words as his hips start to lift and meet your own. You’ve left scratch marks down his chest, dangling your tits in his face. When finally you meet each other in one hard thrust that has you crumbling on top of him, cumming fast and hard as you shudder against his body. The suddenness has him finishing right behind you, hips bouncing your almost limp body above him, and adding to the sensation of both of your orgasms. 

Finally silence settles in the car, something other than indifference and desire filling the air. You lay against his chest, neither of you speaking or looking at the other even though he was still inside you. It was intimate and scary, both of you showing more to the other than you ever have before. The shield of hatred is drawn away for just a moment and you can still barely feel the heartache younger you still carried for the boy. A puppy love that might never go away. 

“I better get going,” you grumble when it becomes too much, sitting up and reaching for your shirt while still straddling his lap. You avoid eye contact at all costs, pulling the shirt over your head and pretending you weren’t still pressed against Steve Harrington of all people. 

He watches with furrowed brows as you reach over and collect your shoes and bra, avoiding the confrontation of what you both just did before popping his car door open and slipping out. Finally your head lifts, eyes meeting his own that look different for the first time you have ever known him. Your anger is still there but for a moment it temporarily settles in your stomach and doesn’t jump to be let out. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you tell him and he nods, maintaining eye contact as he pulls his pants and boxers back up his still half hard length. A fear constricting him at the prospect he may never feel this good with someone ever again. 

“Anytime,” he jokes, still remembering how an hour ago he was prepared to leave you behind and instead a weird and different kind of fondness intermingled with his annoyance towards you. It’s then he remembers your words from before. 

“It was Tommy by the way. He was the one who found that note and said you weren’t good looking enough. If I had found it I would have checked yes. I still would,” the confession feels like a bomb dropped, shocking you to your very core and you can still picture the lined paper now. 

Do you like me? ▢ yes ▢ no

And your nervous signature signed sweetly beneath with a crooked heart next to it. Steve still had it, stuffed in a drawer at home, but he would probably never tell you. 

“Goodnight, Steve,” you say, using his actual name for the first time all night and Steve nods, lips pressed together tightly. Slowly you walk away on shaky legs, leaving behind your panties as a reminder of the one time you both seemed to be on the same page. When Steve sees you disappear inside the house he lets out a heavy sigh and restarts his car, wishing he could go back in time and change how things happened between you two. 

“Goodnight, Princess.”

[dreamsteddie]

Never Better

Written for the @stmarchmm day five prompt “collaring” | Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Insecure Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, Omega Steve Harrington

Bat divider -@popmilky

Also posted on Ao3

The problem with being the Omega half of an Alpha/Omega pair and also being deeply possessive of your mate and pack is that your bite doesn’t stick.

No matter how hard he clamps down, no matter how much he makes Eddie bleed, the bite is always healed in a matter of days. Too many years of evolution ensuring that Alphas heal at max speed, making it impossible for a bite at the already rapidly healing mating gland to stick around.

Every time he rolls over in bed to see his mark gone from his Alpha’s throat, like it never existed, Steve’s heart hurts just a little bit. Eddie can always tell from the bond, always rolls over instinctively and blinks awake, reaching for his Omega before he even knows what’s wrong. He always offers his neck right up again, willing to let Steve latch on and make him bleed no matter how much it hurts. He just wants to make Steve happy.

But after a while, Steve starts to give up. He rolls over a year into their mating to see Eddie’s neck healed once again and rolls back over. When Eddie wakes up and reaches for him, tilting his head up to offer his throat, Steve tells him it’s ok. He doesn’t want to hurt Eddie again when it won’t last.

Eddie is concerned and tries to assure his mate that he doesn’t mind. He loves carrying his mark and doesn’t care that it hurts every time, at this point it only registers as a dull ache. But Steve is adamant.

The problem is, the reason Steve has always been so insistent on marking Eddie is that ever since they got the hell out of Hawkins, Indiana, Omegas and Betas have been all over his mate. Steve has always known that Eddie is a hell of a catch. He’s sweet, caring, considerate, goofy, and still somehow 100% Alpha in the best way. He’s so authentically himself while still managing to be strong and capable in a way that makes Steve’s knees feel weak, and now that he’s not haunted by his reputation as an untouchable “freak”, he draws a lot of attention.

Steve can’t blame them, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Eddie always says no, kindly at first and getting more firm the longer they insist on “one little date” even after he explains that he is happily mated and not interested in a second mate. But Steve has been through some things. He’s been cheated on, he’s been left behind, he’s been the third in a relationship that didn’t really want him for more than a couple quick fucks and shared responsibility of the chores. Every time someone approaches Eddie, all he can think is “this will be the one. This will be the one Eddie decides is better than me.”

He thinks he’s got a grip on it. Thinks Eddie doesn’t know the extent to which this is eating him up inside. How much he’s worried Eddie will wake up and decide that not only does he not want Steve’s bite, he doesn’t want needy, clingy Steve at all anymore.

Until Steve comes home from work one day to find a long, fancy looking box lying perfectly centered on their coffee table. Everything else has been swept away, no half-empty mugs of coffee or sports magazines to be found, just a sleek black box. For a second Steve thinks it might be something sexy. They don’t use many toys, but it’s not out of the question.

But upon closer inspection, Steve sees that there is mat black lettering on the shiny black surface. Collar and Courting, it reads. With that, his knees fall out from under him. He knows that brand. Saw it in one of his Omega geared magazines that no one but Eddie knows he reads. Remembers how fixated he’d been on that article.

“Some say it’s old fashioned. Some even go as far as to say it’s an archaic show of status with no place in the modern age. Some say it’s the most romantic thing an Alpha can do for their mate. Love it or hate it, Collar and Courting is one of the last groups of leather artisans keeping the tradition of Alpha collaring alive.”

He thought he’d hidden it from Eddie, the longing in his chest, but he must have noticed. He always noticed. Hope surges painfully in his chest, his scent blooming. He’s almost afraid to open it, too scared of the slightest possibility that it’s not what he thinks it is.

When he finally musters the courage to lift the lid, his breath catches in his throat. Black, shiny leather stares back at him. More simple than he thought Eddie would go for, just a black band and buckle and a silver O right in the center. He doesn’t hear the footsteps behind him, isn’t aware of Eddie’s presence until he’s leaned over the back of the couch, speaking softly in his ear. 

“You like it?” He asks, as if Steve could ever not love it. He turns around and throws his arms around his mate, headless of the couch between them. 

“Of course I love it, you asshole!” He exclaims because really, what kind of question is that? Eddie laughs in his ear, climbing over the back of the couch instead of going around like the heathen he is. Steve loves him so much. They end up sprawled half haphazardly across the cushion, Eddie pressing noisy kisses into Steve’s neck until he’s a giggly mess.

When they finally calm down, Eddie sits them both up, looking deep into his eyes with that sincerity that always makes Steve swoon a little. “I’ve got one more thing for you,” he says like it’s a secret. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out something small. It clinks quietly against the metal of his rings.

Steve drags his eyes away from Eddie’s deep stare and immediately feels tears pooling in his eyes. It’s a charm, clearly meant for the O ring on the collar. Small and simple, no long winded engravings, just Steve’s signature. The same one on his ID, on his social security card, on the mating certificate hanging proudly on their bedroom wall.

“Fuck, I love you so much,” he says, voice muffled by the kiss he presses firmly to Eddie’s mouth. Eddie welcomes him the same way he always does, smiling into the kiss and pulling him in by the waist. Eventually, he pulls away, reaching for the abandoned box on the table.

“Come on big boy, don’t leave a guy hanging.” There’s mirth in his voice and joy in his eyes, but when Steve goes to pull the supple leather out the box, he pauses.

“Are you sure, Eddie? We don’t have to do this, I love you no matter what. I trust you.” He can see Eddie’s eyes dim with confusion, soft feelings of doubt seeping into the bond.

“What do you mean sweetheart?” He asks, reaching to lay his hand on Steve’s wrist. Comforting, always so comforting. Steve stares at the leather, this thing he wants so badly it hurts, but…

“I mean, I just know it’s kind of old fashioned,” he explains. “And I know you hate archaic gender roles. I just don’t want you to do this because you think you need to. Because you think I need you to.” Eddie is looking at him in that way that’s always so hard for him to read, even with the bond. Years of hiding from his father making Eddie excellent at masking how he feels.

“Listen to me,” he says, eyes back to that intense, earnest gaze that keeps Steve captive. “I love you so much, and there is nothing I want more than for every person on the street to know I’m yours. If I could go back and prevent millions of years of evolution so I could have your bite, I would do it in a heartbeat. I don’t give a shit if it’s traditional or non-traditional, I want this.” And now Steve is really crying. Big, fat, happy tears that Eddie wipes away with gentle fingers.

“Ok,” he says, wobbly but oh so happy.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, checking in one last time.

“Yeah,” Steve confirms, firmer now. Sure.

Without another word, Eddie scoots back just enough to give Steve access, baring his neck the same way he used every other morning until Steve asked him to stop. Ready and willing for Steve to mark as his own. This time, Steve doesn’t hesitate. Brings the leather up, admiring how it looks against his mate's pale skin, and reaches around to secure it. It fits perfectly, Eddie must have had it custom made, the sap. Steve makes sure it sits low, leaving his mating gland free for scenting.

Wordlessly, Eddie passes him the little charm. His eyes are dark the same way they were when he bit Steve, like he’s trying to capture this moment in all its brightness. The metal makes a small snick sound as it settles into place, and then it’s Eddie’s turn to loose his breath as Steve tilts his head to press a soft kiss to the little tag. Finally, he pulls back, admiring the full picture.

Eddie preens a little under his gaze, tilting his head up just a little to show off his new jewelry. “Look good?” He asks.

Steve smiles, brighter than he has since he stopped trying to leave his mark. “Never better, baby.”

[imfinereallyy]

Steve finds love in clean sheets.

He comes home on a Wednesday night to his, Robin’s, and Eddie’s apartment, exhausted. They are packed in like sardines in the place; Robin gets a room to herself, having the space to create her own identity. But Eddie and Steve share a room and do so without much complaint.

They both want her happy.

They are friends, so it’s normal to share a room. It’s probably less normal to share a bed—but the space is small and they have so many things, so sharing a full bed is easier than squeezing twins into corners.

Steve doesn’t mind it being so close to Eddie. Thinks he should be worried about that feeling, but finds he isn’t bothered at all.

Their habits rarely butt heads, their organization skills somehow meet in the middle, and Steve doesn’t care how Eddie decorates as long he’s okay with the nail bat placed under the bed.

The only thing that is a problem that really isn’t much of a problem, is the bed sheets. Sometimes, Eddie forgets, so Steve’s taken it upon himself to change them. It’s not that he doesn’t like the smell of Eddie that lingers. It smells of a home he didn’t know he had on a warm summer day.

But after work, especially on hard days, Steve likes to shower and bury himself beneath clean sheets. The cold, smooth texture rubbing against he legs, the fresh linen scent feeling up his nose.

Steve doesn’t think Eddie notices; he is almost positive, and even if he did, he wouldn’t bat an eye. So Steve changes his sheets every five days or so, more often than really necessary.

Until this Wednesday night.

Steve isn’t having a good day—in fact, he would categorize it as one of his worst yet. Work was hell, and nothing was going his way. Steve walks into the apartment to see Robin and Eddie on the couch, and all Steve wants is to shower and crawl into a clean bed.

The problem is, though—the day from hell has actually been the week from hell, and Steve realizes he hasn’t changed his sheets in a week.

Steve groans as he heads towards the shower, ignoring the curious look from his friends. He begrudgingly accepts his fate—a dirty bed in exchange for an early sleep. Steve bangs his head on the bathroom wall.

Steve exits, and moves to his room to throw on boxers and a tshirt he almost sure is Eddie’s.

Then, he lifts the blankets and snuggles inside only to realize—the sheets feel amazing. They feel clean.

Steve glances down at them, realizes they are the flower sheets Eddie hates—replacing the dark grey ones that had been there this morning.

Steve knows undoubtedly that Eddie is the one who changed them. Steve could write it off as Eddie finally remembering a chore, but he can’t lie to his heart.

It knows Eddie did this for him.

Steve lets out a huge sigh of relief as he sinks down into the clean sheets, the smell of linen wafted through the air with hints of Eddie’s cologne from his shirt.

Steve snuggles into the bed—taking Eddie’s pillow instead of his own, and falls asleep to the steady thought that Steve Harrington is in love with Eddie Munson.

It’s the most peaceful sleep he’s ever had.

[pretentious-blonde]

turning pages

pairing: steve harrington x reader

summary: making the most of the beginnings of autumn, steve takes his girl to a bookshop. only problem is, he is clueless as to what she is talking about.

warnings: none, steve being insecure?

a/n: today feels like the first day of autumn so I wanted to write something for steve being obsessed with his girl <3

The crisp autumn morning was a blessing after the oppressive heat of the summer. The wind carried with it the scent of fallen leaves and the familiar smell of burning wood, probably from a distant bonfire. Steve took in the beauty of the morning as he walked with you, practically glued to your side, matching your every step with his own. 

The sun shone bright above the pair, but did little to heat the two of you. Instead, it covered the trees in a warm orange glow, complementing the leaves that continued to fall. The colours only added to it—crimson reds and burnt oranges, scattered across the pavement you strolled down, giving a satisfying crunch as you both walked. 

Wrapped up warm next to him in her oversized jumper was his girl, clad in an old winter coat that looked like it could swallow her whole. Her cheeks were flushed from the chilly breeze, making her features appear even softer. He didn’t think that was possible. 

She took a sip of her hot chocolate, something she was so excited to finally have now the weather had cooled down. He was more of a coffee drinker himself, but he wouldn’t let her know that, especially when her eyes lit up as she ordered one for him too. Giddily handing it to him and watching as he took his first sip. 

For her, it would be his new favourite. 

He watched the way her breath came out in small clouds, the morning light illuminating her face and a few strands of hair that framed her perfectly. 

He couldn’t hide the smile from his face even if he tried; he thanked the coldness for hiding his own reddening cheeks. Everything about her mesmerised him, even more so today—the peaceful look in her eyes, the way she looked so snug in her layers, radiating warmth despite the dropping temperature. She had to fight him off that morning after he insisted on wrapping her up more, offering up his jumper collection for her comfort. Eventually, she gave in and didn’t fight when he draped his scarf around her neck, tying it up and tucking it into her jacket. 

He wanted her to always be comfortable. Always be happy. 

His own hot chocolate helped to warm his fingers, every sip reminding him of the sweet girl next to him. As the two of you walked, you could feel his gaze wandering to you, your eyes wide and sparkling as you talked about everything and nothing. Your laughter rang aloud at something he said and his heart leapt in his chest, he felt lucky for being the cause of it. 

Every now and then, he’d reach out and gently brush a stray leaf from your coat or adjust his scarf as you tell him off for fussing too much. You do it all with a small grin, he knows you secretly love it, and all he is thinking about is how he’d do anything to keep that smile on your face. 

As you continued to wander along the street, he felt you pause next to him before grabbing his arm with excitement. He chuckled as you dragged him in the direction of the bookshop, just happy to be in your company. 

“C’mon, I didn’t know this was here!” You tell him, practically skipping towards the entrance. 

“Neither did I, honey,” he says, keeping his tone upbeat so as to not dim your enthusiasm. This was not exactly his comfort zone and the last thing he wanted was for you to think you were dating some kind of fool. 

As you pulled him inside, he was hit with the cosy smell of old parchment, similar to the one that filled your apartment. Probably due to your overflowing bookshelf. The lighting was dim and inviting, flowing over your form as you began to wander down the aisles. He watched from afar as your brows furrowed in concentration, carefully inspecting each new book you spotted. It was clear you were in your element. 

The boy tried to act casual, leaning against one of the shelves, tucking his hands in his pockets. But internally, he was nervous. He knew nothing about books. Years of trying in class but failing miserably, his skills were more social ones, not academic. His mind started overthinking the entire situation. Maybe you liked smarter guys, men who could recommend you something, knowing immediately what you would like. Someone you could drink hot chocolate with and exchange reading materials while talking about obscure authors and their works. 

“This place is pretty cool, angel,” he said while pretending to look around. 

You tore your gaze away from the book in your hand, your smile bright. “I know right? I can’t believe we have never seen it here before.”

You carried on perusing the shelves, this time taking Steve with you, picking up a few classics that you have read previously. You held up a second-hand copy of Pride and Prejudice, your eyes glinting with excitement. “This is an absolute favourite. Elizabeth Bennet falls in love with Mr Darcy. He is so misunderstood in my opinion. It’s all about social class and personal growth—I love it. Real old school romance.”

He nodded enthusiastically as he listened intently to what you were saying. Mr Darcy, Bennet…right. Got it. His small smile never fell as he tried to keep up with your rambling. “Yeah, sounds great, honey. I mean—if you say it’s that great—I believe you.”

You laughed and shoved his shoulder teasingly. “My opinion is always correct. Okay, let me show you…” you scan the shelf to try and find another title. “This one,” you hold up a book with the author Shirley Jackson printed on the bottom. 

“This one is a bit of a psychological thriller. It’s about two sisters living in isolation, and it’s got this eerie, unsettling vibe. You’d probably laugh if I told you it’s a bit of a horror novel. I mean, I don’t exactly see you reading ghost stories.”

“I’m sure it’s super creepy. I’ll take your word for it.” He tried to sound convincing, but his mind was elsewhere. What’s a psychological thriller again? Fuck.

You continued to talk about books, stopping to tell him what you loved and what you didn’t about each one. Steve found himself more focused on how adorable you looked when you were passionate about something. Your hands gestured animatedly as you described the plots and characters, and he couldn’t help but be completely enchanted by your enthusiasm. His smart girl. 

He wanted to ask questions to keep you talking, but he was worried about saying something that might seem stupid. What if I ask the wrong thing? He didn’t want to seem clueless—god—if only he had paid more attention in English class. Maybe then he could at least try to humour you better. 

Instead, he just kept nodding, offering encouraging smiles and the occasional, “That sounds really cool.” Just hoping it was the right thing to say, wracking his brain to find a more exciting adjective than ‘cool’.

As you continued to browse, Steve’s eyes caught sight of a familiar cover on a nearby shelf, The Great Gatsby. He hadn’t thought about that book in ages, but he remembered reading it—pretending to read it—a while back in class and tried desperately to remember something—anything—from the plot. Trying to act casual, leaning over you as he pointed at it, your senses suddenly filled with the smell of bergamot and amberwood. 

“Hey, Gatsby. I, uh, liked it.” He ran a hand through his hair, an action that you quickly learnt he did when he was stressed or unsure, you could hear the hesitation in his voice. Steve regretted speaking up immediately. Everyone had read it, or at least studied it back in school. It was hardly impressive. He just wanted to contribute somehow. Wanted to share something with you that you were passionate about. 

You turned to him with a warm smile, clearly seeing through his nonchalant facade. “You’ve read The Great Gatsby? I love Fitzgerald’s work.”

Steve’s face turned a pretty shade of pink at your reassurance. God, you’re too sweet for him. 

“Yeah, I remember it being pretty good. I mean, it’s definitely one of those books that, like, sticks with you, right?”

You chuckled and gave him a playful nudge, the action alone making his chest tighten at your innocent touch. “Definitely. I’m impressed you remembered it. You’ve got good taste.”

Steve’s smile widened, his eyes filled with adoration, your response made him feel like he was doing something right as relief washed over him. He reached out, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m just happy I’m with you, honey. I like you telling me this…stuff. You make it all sound so interesting.”

You beamed up at him, your eyes shining. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. As long as you’re ok with me talking your ear off.”

Please, he thought. He would listen to you ramble all day.

When you had finally finished looking around, you had narrowed it down to only two books you were going to buy, clutching them both close to your chest. Steve walked up beside you, grabbing the slightly battered copy of Pride and Prejudice along with the Shirley Jackson novel you’d had gushed to him about earlier. You glanced at him in surprise as he added them to the stack at the counter.

“Wait, why are you getting those?” you asked, tilting your head as he reached into his pocket, handing the cashier the cash. 

Steve shrugged casually, brushing off your question. “Because you like them, and I’m gonna read them,” he said with a confident grin, holding the door open for you as you both stepped back into the cold air outside, books in hand.

You blinked up at him as you stopped walking, shaking your head at the thought of inconveniencing him. “You really don’t have to, you know. I wasn’t trying to make you read them.”

He stopped when you did, giving you that soft, classic Steve look that always made your knees go weak. 

“Nonsense,” he replied, his voice full of affection as he held a hand up to your stressed face. “If you like them, angel, I’ll love them. Plus, I kinda want to know what you’re talking about when you get all excited next time you bring me here.”

Your heart melted on the spot. “You’re too nice, you know that?”

His confident expression faltered, now looking more bashful. He slipped his hand into yours as you continued your walk, not wanting it to get cold. 

“Only for you,” he said, giving your fingers a gentle squeeze. “And I’ll read anything if it means I get to hear more of what you gotta say.”

You glanced up at him, a playful smirk playing on your lips. “Oh, really? Gonna give you a pop quiz and everything once you’ve finished them if that’s the case.”

Steve chuckled, feeling the pressure already with your teasing threat. “Quiz me? Uh, maybe let me get through a few chapters first, honey.”

“I’ll make flashcards for you and everything. You’ll be an expert on Austen when I’m done with you.” You giggle. 

He laughed, shaking his head at your antics. “If I suddenly become a literary genius, it’s all thanks to you, angel.”

You leaned closer to him, taking your hand away from his so he could wrap a strong arm around your shoulders. 

“I like you just the way you are.” The words fell out of your mouth with ease.

Steve rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide how he felt after hearing you say that. Your words would be replaying in his head for weeks to come. “Keep sweet-talking me, and I might even start quoting Pride and Prejudice just to impress you.”

“Oh, I’d love to see that,” you teased. “You as Mr. Darcy? Perfect.”

“At your service, Miss Bennet.” He said, giving you a small bow, he hoped he remembered names right from earlier.

You burst out laughing, feeling warmer thanks to the sweet boy next to you. He pulled you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as you continued down the street together, tucked under his shoulder, hot chocolate now cold in your paper cups. Not that it mattered, he would buy you as many as you liked as long as he was with you.

[corrodedcorpses]

Steve “cant control his boners” Harrington getting so turned on by you in a bikini at the lake he has to find a spot behind a tree to jackoff

(Anon thank you so much for this. This is the first thing I’ve finished in months AND my first ever Steve fic without Eddie 🥺🖤)

18+ MDNI

Oh my mind instantly went to slightly Perv!Steve

He totally didn’t overhear you and your friends talking about going to the lake this weekend at lunch on Friday and it’s absolutely a coincidence that he happens to run into you and your friends while he’s out there “to take a dip, take his mind of things, get back with nature” and whatever other smooth line falls from his lips as he gives you his trademark flirty Harrington smirk, running his fingers through his hair in a way he knows you love.

It’s all going great for Steve, he’s chatting you up, making you blush and giggle, you’re both in your own little world, until your friends interrupt you both. Teasing you two about actually going for a swim, you know, the reason you all came here in the first place.

That’s when things start to get a little harder for Steve.

He watches you shimmy out of your shorts, your ass bouncing slightly and he swears his jaw must be on the floor. Your bikini bottoms hugging your curves perfectly, slightly digging into the plush of your ass. Whatever blood had rushed to Steve’s cheeks quickly goes south as you rip your shirt over your head, your boobs jiggling as you do, your bikini top digging in just as much as your bottoms.

You look at Steve expectantly and he realises he’s still fully clothed.

“Oh, I-um,” Steve starts to stutter, shit. He has to get out of here, he can feel his pants tightening by the second and knows he’s going to be nothing but a stuttering mess and very ‘un-smooth’, if he stays.

He mumbles out some half assed excuse about “the time getting away from him” or “forgetting something important he has to do”, honestly he’s not really sure as he turns on his heels and quickly makes his way back through the forest, leaving you staring at him confused as you watch him leave. You don’t have time to mull over it too much when you hear your friends calling your name as you turn and start to walk into the lake.

Steve stops a little bit into the forest, ducking behind a tree and resting his back against it as he screws his eyes shut, throwing his head back against it as he curses himself. He fully intends to get back to his car at least before taking care of his problem but he knows he’s not going anywhere when he hears the half giggle - half squeal that you let out as your friend splashes you, the sound making his dick twitch.

He groans as he cups and squeezes himself through his shorts. He ducks out from behind the tree, moving a couple of trees over so he can get the perfect view of you while still being concealed by the trees.

Steve quickly shoves his shorts down enough to free himself, his cock slapping his stomach as he quickly spits on his palm before he tightly wraps his fingers around his cock. The sight before him has all sensible thoughts leaving his head, not even caring at this moment if anyone happens to walk past him.

You’re in the lake up to your thighs, goosebumps erupting on your skin as the cold water laps around you, your skin slightly glistening from when your friends must have splashed you.

He follows the water droplets as they run down in between your breasts. He has to bite down on his fist to stop from moaning as he swears he can see your hard nipples through your bikini top.

You move further into the water, Steve’s hand speeding up slightly frustrated as he loses sight of some of your body.

He makes a frustrated sound when you dip under the water but audibly gasps when you pop back up, your hair wet and your head tilted back. He imagines being on his knees in front of you, getting to taste you as you throw your head back exactly like that.

That thought has precum dripping down his cock and mixing with his saliva as he feels his stomach tighten, the image so vivid in his head he swears he can almost taste your juices on the tip of his tongue. He’s embarrassingly close already, his hips rutting into his fist as he very softly whines your name over and over again.

You shiver again, wrapping your arms around yourself, causing your boobs to squish together, accentuating your cleavage perfectly and oh god he’s going to cum already.

Steve can’t get the image of cumming all over your boobs out of his head as he feels himself make a mess all over his hand and the leaves and sticks below him.

He softly whines and groans as he cums harder and faster than he has in a long time. His mind only filled with thoughts of you.

Realisation hits Steve like a truck as he opens his eyes to see the mess he’s made. He curses as he quickly tucks himself back in his pants, wiping his hand on a nearby bush and his shorts before quickly dashing back to his car without looking back. Shaking his head at himself as he mumbles about being such an idiot to himself.

But, if he had looked back at you he would’ve seen you staring right at his not so inconspicuous hiding spot with a satisfied smirk on your face.

(Tagging some mutuals that might be interested @wroteclassicaly @andvys @littledemondani @usedtobecooler @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @eddiemunsonspantschain @screammunson @ilovecupcakesandtea @mysticmunson @cursedyuta @ghost-proofbaby @munsonsgirl71 @pxrxcxa @solarluvs )

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Hi it's me again 😔 kinktober req perchance?

Steve Harrington with sex pollen prompt? I don't know suthn freaky with the demodog lair keeps popping up in mind. Sorry to keep bombarding you with requests HAHAH hope you're well :>

- 🌝

it's not a problem, I love all the requests you send me 🥰 this reminded me that I've never actually written somthing for him before, which is kind of crazy?? that being said I love this idea and hope it turned out okay, I wrote this with a transmasc reader too since you asked for one with your other kinktober request. thanks for sending something in <3

(also just a disclaimer creative liberties were taken when writing this so the story would flow better and the plot would make more sense)

Kinktober 2024 Day 12: sex pollen with Steve Harrington x transmasc reader

Warnings: smut/nsfw content, sex pollen, slight bondage via tentacles, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (please use condoms irl), brief implied Nancy x Robin

The Upside Down was like something out of horrific nightmare. It gave a glimpse into what life would be like if Vecna was able to take things over, which why it was crucial for your plan to destroy his physical form to work.

After wandering through the disturbing woods for what seemed like forever, you finally managed to come across the place you were looking for. Dustin and Eddie warded off the hellish bats, which gave you, Steve, Nancy, and Robin the opportunity of doing your part by searching for Vecna.

Creel House was even more eerie and disturbing in the alternate dimension, which certainly didn't help to ease your already spiked nerves in the slightest. The vines (or tentacles, rather) that were covering the floor made things even worse, because you knew if you made one wrong move they'd be on you in an instant.

While the tentacles in the lair were gross looking, they were also strangely erotic, from their length and girth to the squelching noises they made as they moved around. You tried to keep your thoughts as clean and sex-free as possible as you carefully manuevered yourself over and around them, hopping from one place to another as you did your best not to fall.

Our goal is destroying Vecna and saving Hawkins, you reminded yourself every time your mind started slipping into the gutter. Not fraternizing with what looks like a bunch of over-sized sex toys.

Everything seemed to be going as planned until something started to shake the house, causing what could only be described as some kind of mini earthquake. Naturally, this disturbed the tentacles, which led them to attack.

Some of them grabbed Robin and began dragging her in one direction while others grabbed Steve and dragged him the opposite way. You and Nancy split, her chasing after Robin at the same time you were trying to grab Steve.

"Steve!" You cried out in a panic, using your makeshift spear to stab at the tentacles in hopes it would injure them enough to let him go. They writhed around in agony at the feeling, though you noticed when you stabbed them they started to give off this sickeningly sweet type of odor.

Thinking nothing of it, you kept stabbing, hoping it would be enough to get them to let him go. Eventually they were hacked up to the point where they were far too weak to keep him restrained, forcing them to loosen their grip.

"Are you okay?" You asked while helping him up, noting that he seemed to be a little dizzy, which was odd given that he hadn't really done anything to warrant feeling lightheaded.

"Y- Yeah, I think so," he breathlessly responded, his eyes looking a little cloudy for some reason when you looked at them.

Before you could question him further, you began to feel dizzy yourself, your own vision blurring as a rush of heat spread through your body and buried itself deep within you. The only thing you could seem to focus on at that moment was Steve. His body, his eyes, his voice-

It was then that you realized what was going on. Whatever it was the tentacles sprayed you with must've included some kind of aphrodisiac that was absorbed through the skin, which meant-

Oh, God. Now was really not the time for this of all things to be happening.

"Steve," you began in a slightly shaky voice. He picked up on your nervous tone in an instant, though it was hard for him to think properly when he was going through the same physical reactions you were.

"I- I think we should do something about this," he suggested, his voice low and sultry without even meaning to be. Or maybe that was just you hearing things due to your sudden burst of horniness.

"We can't, we have to go do something about Vecna," you lightly protested, although you knew it was no use. Your legs had grown shaky and weak, causing you to cling onto him for support.

In the meantime, the tentacles had come back while you were both distracted, though they didn't seem nearly as hostile as before. If anything, they were docile, almost affectionate, as if the scent they'd left behind on you make them much more peaceful. Despite this, their intentions weren't entirely innocent, as they'd started to travel up your body, searching for the warmth of your arousal.

"I really don't think we have much of a choice," Steve remarked, his cock already painfully hard in his pants. You weren't faring much better, as your underwear was practically soaked by now.

"As- As long as we're quick about it," was all you could manage to get out before your mouth met his in desperation, your hands moving to grab at his clothes as you pressed your body as close to his as possible.

He was just as eager, his hands finding their way to your hips in a need for contact. Even if you wanted to pull away, you couldn't, as the tentacles had now fully wrapped themselves around you. It wasn't enough to stop your blood flow or anything like that, but you were definitely unable to go anywhere as they'd successfully restricted your movements.

"Oh, Steve," you moaned out his name as his lips traveled down your neck, your fingers lacing through his hair. Every touch the two of you shared seemed to leave behind sparks, his mouth feeling like a red hot iron that was branding your skin.

Somehow during this, you'd moved down onto the floor, the tentacles seeming to swaddle you as you did. Your clothes were quickly pulled off and discarded as the both of you became more and more needy, your actions bordering on primal. Your nails dug into his skin, leaving visible scratches going down his back at the same time that his teeth sunk into the tender flesh of your shoulder.

By the time his cock had finally found its way to your aching hole, you were already dripping wet, like a faucet that hadn't been turned off properly. The mixed sounds of your combined pleasure filled the air as he sunk deep within you, your back arching up off the ground as you threw your head back.

It was hard to tell how long you were there for. It could've been seconds, it could've been hours. You were much too focused on the feeling of him thrusting in and out of you at an animalistic pace to be sure.

Orgasm after orgasm tore through your body, and if you weren't so caught up in the moment you would've recognized this for what it really was: a distraction to keep you away from finding Vecna and destroying him. Eventually, however, both you and Steve began to run out of steam, the combination of exhaustion and overstimulation getting to you.

Beads of sweat covered your body, your eyes hooded as you felt him empty yet another load of his sticky seed inside you. Neither of you were thinking clearly enough to remember that it'd be better if he didn't cum inside you, which left you feeling abnormally full.

It took everything in him not to collapse on top of you once he was finally finished, his limbs looking as weak and shaky as yours were. A quiet whimper exited you when he pulled out, his cock softening again after what seemed like ages.

He slowly helped you get redressed, and you helped him do the same, trying to be careful so you wouldn't disturb the pile of tentacles that laid nearby. They'd become bored after the second or third round and had taken to leaving you alone, but you still didn't want to risk waking them back up again.

You stumbled out of the room you'd been in as you went to reconvene with Robin and Nancy, who looked as though they'd been through the exact same thing you had. Their clothes were wrinkled, their hair was messed up, and you could see a few hickeys peeking out of the collar of their shirts. You had no doubt you and Steve looked about the same.

Nancy awkwardly cleared her throat, avoiding eye contact as she shifted back and forth on her feet. "So, uh- should we...?" She gestured towards the staircase, to which Steve nodded his head in response.

"Yeah, let's."

The four of you began to make your way through the house yet again, a certain kind of tension in the air full of unasked questions with equally unspoken answers. None of you decided to say what had taken you so long to meet up again, and you didn't need to. It was fairly obvious.

Who knew the Upside Down could bring you as much pleasure as it could fear?

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated | requests are currently open

Main masterlist | Stranger Things masterlist | wanna be added to my taglist?

Kinktober 2024 masterlist | Kinktober 2024 info post/prompt list

🏷 taglist: @missmewts @ghot-girl @gilmore-angel @your-next-daydream @alexxavicry @elenavampire21 @noisy-dumb-piece-of-shit @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @defstr8bl0nd13 @theonetruepotato87 @caplanreblogsfics @merlinbtch (if you're crossed out it means I couldn't tag you for some reason)

[superblysubpar]

<- part seven | part nine -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: Was it real?

the song: we can’t be friends by Ariana Grande

also for your listening pleasure: Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper, One More Night by Phil Collins, Where Do Broken Hearts Go by Whitney Houston, Who's Crying Now by Journey, I Ran (So Far Away) by A Flock of Seagulls, What About Love? by Heart, and Can't Fight This Feeling by REO Speedwagon

5,839 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / brief descriptions of scars-previous head injury, new injuries & blood / mentions of getting high, but not reader / douchery to the highest order in the form of Brendan - he ignores boundaries, doesn’t listen, and a physical fight ensues - I made it as brief and nondescript as possible, but take care of yourself and do not read if you find it could be triggering (I’ve marked the scene with Brendan between red lines, and all you’d need to know is Steve saves the day) | my blog is 18+

Somewhere near Cornwallis Street - Sunday

  The screech of metal on metal continuing to alert you of his presence only makes your feet pick up their pace on the grass, pavement of the sidewalk too hot for your bare soles. 

  “Sweetheart, just get in the van. You’re wearing out my brakes, here.”

  Eddie’s been trailing behind you for five minutes, calling out the open window to get you to look at him. 

  “You know,” he calls, pausing at the stop sign as you look at the empty intersection and begin to jog across hot tar, “You’re being a brat!”

  “Excuse me?!” 

  Your foot twitches to stomp, like the thing he just called you, while fighting the urge to look at him as you continue down the neighborhood’s street. 

  “You heard me! Get in the fucking car. You gonna walk all the way across town without shoes on?”

  “Yes!” 

  “Really?” He scoffs, “Okay. What happens when you get there and you’ve got no keys?”

  Your feet slow, but you call out confidently, “I have a spare hidden.”

  “Fucking stubborn,” he mumbles as he brakes and puts the car in park and hops out. 

  Eddie rounds the hood of his car, sneakers untied and black swim trunks dripping wet still, hair pulled into a low bun with curls falling out around his face. He glares at you with hands on his hips.

  “Get. In. The. Car.”

  “No!” 

  You do stomp your foot that time, and then make a break for it, a full out sprint to get around him. 

  It’s childish, is what it is. There’s no other way to describe the way you try to run away from him, literally, or the way he snakes his arms around you, shouting about what the hell your actual problem is. No other way to describe the way you swat at a hard chest doing absolutely nothing as tears start rolling down your cheeks again and you yell the word asshole at him. 

  “Me?! I’m the asshole?” Eddie’s fingers circle your wrists, stopping your useless attack. His brown eyes blink at you, “For what? For-“

  “For lying to me, Eddie!” You shout it around a sob, knowing you’re leaning towards ugly snotting crying territory quickly. Your vision blurs as you keep going, “You manipulated me for Harrington. For some extra cash. For…for what?” Lips spitting words out around salty tears, “You started this whole fucking bet and-and you let him…why’d you do this? Why’d you-“

  “Because hello!” Eddie shouts, letting your arms go and holding his out wide, “Breaking news to literally only you because the entire fucking planet can see it: You’re totally in love with the guy!”

  “I’m no-“

  “You are,” Eddie cuts you off, eyes soft but jaw hard. “And you were never gonna give him a chance without our help because, aside from him,” Eddie laughs and gestures down the road behind you, “You’re the most stubborn person on earth. You both set your sights on something and you won’t budge till you get it. And you…yours were set on hating his guts.”

  Your hand swipes at your cheeks as you look away from him, refusing to admit he’s right and Eddie shakes his head, speaking softly now. 

“And I don’t think you told yourself you were gonna hate Steve Harrington forever because of some moment when you were twelve. I think you decided you were gonna hate him, so there was never any chance the opposite could be true. Because if you hate him, you could never love him. And if you never love him, you can’t get hurt.”

  A sob cracks your chest, head hung as tears fall and darken the pavement burning your feet. It only takes three drops for Eddie’s arms to wrap around you and five for you to wrap yours around him. He waits until his white cut off tee is plastered to his chest but no longer getting freshly damp to run a palm up and down your back and kiss the top of your head. 

  “Want some pie?”

  Eddie makes a disgusted scoff as you swipe your nose on his shirt and then look down at your bare feet.

  “Can we stop and get my shoes?”

  He smiles, head nodding towards the van still idling next to you. 

  “Would Prince Charming show up at Cinderella’s doorstep without the glass slipper?”

  Your eyes roll as Eddie walks you over to the van, helping you in as you pick up the shoes in the wheel well. 

  Eddie closes the door, face twisted in hesitation before he taps the open window frame and clears his throat.

“To be clear, so I don’t get accused of manipulating and lying again,” he raises his eyebrows at you and you duck your head as he softly tacks on, “I’m not Prince Charming in this scenario.” He nods at the shoes in your lap, “Before I could even think to follow you, Harrington was shoving those at my chest and telling me to.”

  Your chin wobbles, lip quivering as you sniff and ward off a fresh wave of tears. 

  It doesn’t matter who brought them, not really. Because all that does matter is the fact that they’re here and you want to put them on and keep running. 

  Away from your arguably skewed view of the past. Away from this street and that house and the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your body, the ache in your stomach and chest that you worry won’t ever go away.

  Run far, so far that Eddie’s words can’t ever catch up and make you face them head on - admit the truth behind them. 

  All you can think about doing is running away from Steve Harrington, because that’s all you’ve ever done, but now, now there’s a small new thread. 

  A thread like the one in your skirt a week ago that you wonder if you keep pulling, you’ll find where it starts. 

  A thread that runs parallel to the feeling of needing to run away from him. One that makes you pick and pull and wonder:

  If you keep running from him, will Steve ever give up trying to catch you? And if you stopped running, what happens when he does? 

  What happens when the chase is over?

Hawkins, Indiana - Monday A.B. (After Bet)

  You’re not proud of it, on Monday morning when you call Keith and tell him you can’t come in, lying about being sick. 

  The feeling in your stomach as you move a shirt, a sweatshirt, and pajama pants to your dryer later that day makes you wonder if you were really lying though. 

  Rain tapping against your windows and the glow of the TV screen lull you to sleep on your couch. 

  You don’t dream about Steve Harrington. 

  And when a crack of thunder jolts you awake right when he’s not about to kiss you, you decide you’ll never watch a movie with Harrison Ford in it again. 

Hawkins, Indiana - Tuesday A.B.

  Your hand smacks the buttons of your radio as Cyndi Lauper’s voice croons out of the speakers, ironically the dark storm clouds from last night are fading to gray this morning as you drive to work. 

  Fingers rub soothing circles into your temple while the warm summer breeze blows through your open windows, placating you into calm energy until the radio lands on it’s next station. 

  “But if you change your mind, you know that I’ll be here. And maybe we both can learn…”

  As you roll to a stop at a red light, you blink at your radio with a clenched jaw as Phil laments about getting one more night. Thankfully, the song is almost over, so when the light turns green, your shoulders roll back as your wheels go forward again. 

  But it seems the universe is out to get you, and soon Whitney’s voice is prying your already cracked chest open, voice filling every vulnerable nook and cranny it can find in your body.

  “Nope!” You tell your radio, the universe, while your hands frantically grab for a mix out of your cupholder and shove it into the dash as you make the last turn onto Family Video’s street. 

  And if the Journey song isn’t enough to make you fall, as you turn into the parking lot, the sight of Steve is.

  He looks up at the sound of your music and you quickly slam it off, able to feel the tiny people going to work inside your chest, shouting orders about reinforcements around your heart with the wall back standing. 

  Steve’s car is backed into a space, and he sits on the hood of it. He holds a to go coffee cup and a brown paper bag that he grips tighter as you get out of your car and walk past without looking at him.

  “Honey-“

  “Don’t.” 

  He says your name, feet scrambling behind you until you slow to a stop.

“That was a shitty way for me to tell you, I didn’t mean to make it sound like we were all…conspiring against-“

  “But you were,” you interrupt, spinning to face him in a grave mistake. The leader inside of you shouting about more! You need more glue, more bricks, more! He’s too powerful! The walls are breaking again!

  Steve’s hair is a mess, wild brown waves with zero product in it. Circles under pleading amber eyes and you’re fairly certain the shirt he’s wearing isn’t washed if the wrinkles and mustard stain are any indication. 

  It makes you feel guilty, but then you remember that you’re not sure what was real for him this last week. Not sure if any of it was, or if you were just the thing he had his sights set on winning - the thing he couldn’t have till he could. 

  He shakes his head but you hold up your hand, “Let’s just forget anything happened, okay?”

  “Wh-what?” Steve blinks profusely and you look anywhere but his eyes, and freckles, and neck, and-

  “I just want to…forget it. Let’s just be coworkers who share friends again, okay?”

  “We…you don’t even want to be friends?” His voice cracks and you blink your own eyes too many times, feeling a sting behind them. 

  “I…I can’t be your friend Ste-“ your voice wobbles and you correct, “Harrington.”

  Your fingers fiddle with the strap of your bag and his crinkle the brown bag in his hand and you both stand there, staring at the sidewalk for what feels like forever. 

  “I s’pose you don’t want these then,” he offers the items up limply, before he walks over to the trash and tosses them. He clears his throat and calls over his shoulder, “Have a good shift, co-worker.”

  His fingers slide on the bridge of his nose as he gets into his car, but it’s no use. You don’t see him crying because you’re walking into the store, and he doesn’t see you crying, because his vision is too blurry to see much of anything.

  The truth of the matter is, you can’t be friends with Steve. 

  Because you’d rather be so much more than friends. 

  But if you’re more than friends with Steve Harrington, it was only a matter of time before something, someone, new came along. A new challenge and thing to chase after. 

  You’re swiping at your eyes still as you get into the back room, greeted by an apologetic looking Robin and Keith slurping on yogurt.

“Good thing you called in yesterday,” he speaks around the pink snack in his mouth, “You look like hell.”

  “Thanks,” you snap sarcastically, dropping your bag on the table which wobbles when you do.

  “Huh,” Keith gets up, holding the spoon in his mouth as he walks over and shakes the table. He pops it out and holds the spoon at it accusingly, “Who broke the table?”

  Your body heats up remembering Steve laying on top of you on it, the way he felt between your legs, the way he-

  “I did!” Robin scrambles up from her chair, waving her hand over it and talking too fast, “I’ll pay for it! I’ll work extra shifts! I’ll-“

  “She didn’t break it.” You look at Robin who you’re worried may offer to sell her own soul if she thinks you’re mad at her. You’re not, though you do wonder how she knows about the table. “I did.

  Keith kicks it and mumbles a ‘whatever’, tossing the yogurt cup into the trash can and licking his fingers free from the creamy substance as he talks, “How was Harrington?”

  “Wh-what?”

  “Harrington?” Keith raises his eyebrows, hooking his thumb at Robin, “I can’t trust a thing she says, the traitor’s best friends with him.”

  “He…” Robin looks at you with a pout, pleading blue eyes and you sigh, “He was actually really good. Did extra work. Did the whole shipment by himself…he was…he was great.”

  Keith nods, eyes narrowed at you and then shrugs. “Whatever, he’s the new full time guy then. Spread the good news Buckley.”

  Robin’s eyes squeeze shut in a wince as you shout, “What?!”

  Keith is already walking out into the front of store and you trail behind him as he explains, “We needed a replacement for Tracy. This week was a trial run for Harrington. Thought he told you?”

  “He…” you trail off, remembering your first shift with him last week, “He said it was while you looked for the replacement.”

  Keith starts stacking tapes and Robin starts bringing them to shelves as he rolls his eyes at you. “Yeah, but why would I go through the trouble of posting the job, interviewing, and training a new person when one of my employees wants it?”

  “But-but, I’ll do it! I’ll interview and train! You don’t have to do a thing! I’ll-“

  “What’s the issue, I thought you said he was great? Give me a reason and I won’t give him the position.”

Keith blinks at you, bored, and Robin holds her breath next to you. 

  This means Steve and you working together most days. 

  This means watching him flirt and date and parade around Hawkins with every girl other than you for the foreseeable future. 

  This means you’ll never outrun Steve Harrington. 

  Robin raises her eyebrows at you and clears her throat as Keith snaps his fingers in your face, which you plaster a smile on to.  

“Give Harrington the job, what do I care?” 

  You spend the rest of your shift silent, listening to Keith explain to you how he wants the big fourth of July display to go and reminding Robin to tell Steve he can be in charge of the park, like he asked, whatever that means. 

  You stopped listening the minute his name was mentioned and focused on finding every movie with fireworks in it. 

Hawkins, Indiana - Wednesday A.B.

  You’re balancing on the window’s ledge, one hand holding the display of Patrick Swayze up and the other reaches for the tape that’s just out of reach on the shelf. 

  The tips of your fingers brush it as you stretch another centimeter and a huff falls past your lips when you can’t get it. You rise up onto your toes, craning just a little bit further when you start to lose your footing. 

  Large hands catch your waist from behind, holding you up. In the process of steadying you, your shirt rose, and Steve’s fingers now rest against your bare skin. 

  His hand lingers on your lower back as he reaches for the tape and hands it to you, both returning to your waist as you tape Johnny & Baby to the window. 

  “Thanks,” you clear your throat, realizing it’s the first word that’s been spoken in several hours. 

  Steve just hums from behind you before he lets his hands fall, the sound of his feet dragging on carpet only just louder than your heartbeat. 

  It isn’t fair, to know how his lips feel against yours.

  It isn’t fair, to know how he looks without his shirt off.

  It isn’t fair, to know how good it feels to come around his fin-

  The chime of the door pulls you from your self-sabotaging thoughts, the scent of peaches almost immediately overpowering. 

Blonde ringlets bounce as long legs approach the counter where he leans over a clipboard. 

  “Hi there,” her voice so sugary sweet it makes your stomach ache. 

  “Hi, welcome to…H-hi,” he stands, clearing his throat. 

  She pouts and leans across the counter, fingers traveling up his arms and making yours erupt in flames. 

  “You never called me, Steve.”

  “Oh,” Steve rubs the back of his neck, “Yeah, I’m so sorry. Something came up.”

  Something came up.

  Your scoff is loud, loud enough to have both of their heads turning, so you face the window again, putting pieces of tape aimlessly on the back of the posters. 

  “That’s okay,” Brit assures, syrupy and sighing, “But how are you gonna make it up to me?”

  “Oh, well, I…”

  “Hey, Steve?” You call, looking over your shoulder.

  He blinks at you, Brit’s fingers on his forearm now and swirling circles into it. “Ye-yeah?”

  “I’m out of tape,” you respond sharply.

  “And?” His brows furrow at you.

  “Can you get me some more, or are you too busy not doing your job?”

  His eyes narrow under furrowed brows but then he turns to Brit, voice low and daring to sound smooth now, “Sorry, babe, I gotta get back to work, but I promise I’ll call this time?”

  Brit smiles, gives a nod and a little wave with her fingers and then the scent of peaches is replaced with cedar and mint. 

  You smack another piece of tape haphazardly to the window. 

  “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” His voice comes from right behind you, and you don’t dare turn around and face him.

  “You have that tape?”

  “Yeah,” Steve scoffs, handing a roll over your shoulder, his breath hot against the back of your neck, “Looks like you missed a spot.”

  “Thanks,” voice biting as your fingers yank the tape from his.

  He snorts, hand pressing to the glass next to your waist, “I seriously cannot believe you have the audacity to be jealous.”

  Your knees wobble as you spin and he steadies you again, hands on your hips and just low enough for you to look down at where your bodies press together as you swallow. Steve raises his eyebrows at you, expectantly, waiting.

  “What? You want a reward for using audacity correctly in a sentence?”

Steve’s jaw pulses, his forehead furrows again, but then you tack on, “And I’m not jealous.”

  His fingers squeeze involuntarily and he shakes his head slowly. 

  “There you go again, what’d I say about that, huh?”

  Chests heave with each of your intense breaths, his tongue wets his lip as you swallow and push against the glass behind you.

  “I have no reason to be jealous,” you respond quietly as Steve’s fingers brush back and forth under the hem of your shirt. “I hate you.”

  Steve’s eyes shift in color, darker, like the forest is being covered with storm clouds as he shakes his head no again, “Quit,” he takes a deep breath, exhaling the word as he tilts his chin, “Lying.”

  The chime above the door rings and Robin’s honey tinted waves are bouncing under it as she looks around. Steve takes a step back from you, pink cheeked and swallowing, hands shaking a little as you quickly climb down. 

  Your eyes avoid his as you grab your bag and wave to Robin, mumbling something about seeing her tomorrow. 

  You’re not even surprised at the lyrics that fill your car when you start it.

  “I ran. I ran so far away. I just ran, I ran all night and day…

I couldn’t get away.”

Hawkins, Indiana - Thursday A.B.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Thunder booms overhead when you ask, like it’s protesting this conversation.

  Robin sits on top of the counter across from where you lean, tossing skittles in the air and catching them.

  Or well, trying to catch them. 

  A yellow one evades her and joins a green and blue one on the floor as she says, “Shoot.”

  Your fingers fiddle with the button on your vest that says ‘May The Force Be With You’ as Robin foregos throwing and starts to dump the bag directly into her mouth.

  “How…” your arms cross as you sigh and squint out the window at the gloomy evening, “How’d you become friends?”

  “Wha?” She asks around rainbow goo, blue eyes blinking rapidly as your nose wrinkles at the sight.

  She swallows quickly and waves her hands for you to elaborate, “What?”

  “How’d you become friends…” you swallow down the butterflies that ache to come out just from saying his name, “With Steve?”

  “Oh,” she says, softly. 

  “We just,” you’re back to fiddling with buttons, with the keys of the computer, “We never really talked about it, y’know? Like you hated his guts just like me and then all of a sudden you were tricking us into movies together. And getting him this job. Helping him with…”

The unspoken activities of last week hang in the air and she smiles tightly. 

  “Right, um, well,” she scratches at the back of her neck, legs swinging as she blows out a breath. “We worked together, at Scoops, remember?”

You nod as she continues to ramble, talking with her hands and skittles spilling on the floor as she does, “And well, aside from making me laugh all summer and actually being not so terrible at conversation and listening like I’d pegged him for, there was this one night, where we got a little high and he…we were playing truth or dare.”

  She trails off and looks at you, pink cheeks and biting her lip and you stand up straighter.

  “You what? You didn’t…”

  “No!” Robin shudders, she waves her hands, “Absolutely not! He…” She groans and looks out the door and hops down, pacing as she mumbles, “Gonna freaking kill me.”

  “What?”

  “Uggh! I asked him if he’d ever been in love.”

  Your heart beats erratically, like it’s trying to keep up with the constant pelt of rain against the pavement, like each thump is trying to break you from the inside out. 

  “And? His answer made you become best friends for life?”

  Robin shrugs, “Sort of, yeah.” She smiles, avoiding your eyes as she fiddles with the skittles wrapper. “This guy who seemed so high and mighty, so douchey, so…well, you know how he is,” she waves a hand with a laugh, “After a Summer of proving all of that wrong, making me eat my judging ways, this dingus goes and tells me that he isn’t sure what it’s supposed to feel like, but he’s pretty sure he felt it holding this girl’s hand on a ferris wheel when he was twelve.”

  Robin tosses the wrapper in the trash with a sigh, “And I don’t know. I folded. Now, whenever he says something dumb, whenever he’s an idiot, all I see is a guy laying on my floor telling me that. All I see when I look at him is this front covering up for a kid who thinks love is holding a girl’s hand. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a guy like that?”

  “Did,” you start quietly, almost so quiet you’re not sure you’re even saying anything. The words muffled by rain and thunder and your heartbeat,

“Did he tell you to tell me that?”

  “What?” She asks, wrinkles deepening under parted bangs. “No, absolutely not. He told me if I ever told anyone that my ass was grass.” She snorts and rolls her eyes. 

  Robin never knew how you met Steve. She never knew why you hated him, you just bonded over the fact that you did. 

  She frowns at you, “Why do you as…oh shit.”

  You’re certain she’s connected the dots you already have but then she’s looking over your shoulder and your mouth is parting at the sight of who’s running with his jacket over his head towards the store. 

  He shakes out hair as the door chimes, swiping at his eyes as he starts up and down the aisles, searching and your hands start to shake. 

  “Go in the back room, I can manage till he’s gone,” she says softly behind you, nudging you towards the back of the store and away from the man dressed in a nice suit squinting at new releases. 

  Your head nods as you quickly and as quietly as possible make a break for it. 

  But then you trip on the Predator cut out and his voice sounds just like it did all those years ago.

  “Well, what do we have here?”

  “Hi,” you scramble to your feet, floundering with the cut out pieces as you mumble his name, “Brendan.”

  He tilts his head at you and has the nerve to smile at you, “Thought that was you! You look…”

Your body warms under his appraisal, his hold nothing back rake of his eyes over you from head to toe and back up. Only hotter when he says, “Different.”

  “You…” your mouth is dry, suddenly able to recall all the things you’d planned to say to him if you ever saw him again. A plan to rub all of your success in his face, hopes of having another beer to toss. 

  Brendan squints at you, then around the store. He scoffs, “So…this is what you’re doing, huh?”

  You’re faintly aware of the door chiming as you take a step away from him, back pressed to the shelves as he takes a step towards you, arm caging you in. “What’s a girl like you, still working in a place like this, babe?”

  Why can this guy do this to you? How does he make you feel so small? 

  “Don’t…don’t call me that.” 

  Your head shakes, but that seems to be about the only thing your body remembers how to do. 

  Brendan pouts his lips, mistaking your breathless panic as being smitten, as being nervous around him for a totally different reason. “You used to like it.”

  He touches your waist and in your peripheral you see Robin take a step towards the phone as he speaks lowly, “You know, I never thanked you.

After you threw that beer at me and he kicked my ass, I actually took it seriously. Passed Biology, graduated. I work at a law firm now.”

  His hand runs up your waist, squeezing just below your ribs as he leans in, “I feel like I should take you out, to say thank you, babe.”

  Your mouth parts, but someone else beats you to it.

  “Pretty sure she made it clear not to call her that.”

  Brendan backs away from you, if only slightly, to look at Steve standing at the end of the aisle. 

  “Seriously? Go ring up my rental,” Brendan snorts, tossing the tape at him harshly before he turns back to you. “Where were we, babe?”

  Steve’s reflexes let him catch it, while he glares and grits through clenched teeth, “Call her that one more time, see what happens.”

  “I’m not a drunk high schooler anymore Harrington, don’t think I have anything to worry about. Right bab-“

  Steve’s fist connects with Brendan’s jaw, sending him staggering away from you. Steve’s eyes are on you, frantic as he breathes heavily and pants out, “Are you oka-shit!”

  Brendan barrels into Steve, knocking him down to the ground, fists connecting with his stomach and the side of his head. 

  You shout out both of their names, shoving at Brendan to get off of Steve who coughs after the hits stop coming. 

  Brendan staggers to a stand, swiping at a bloody nose and spitting at Steve. You stand and shove at his chest, “Get out! Before we call the cops on you, you arrogant, pathetic-“

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Brendan waves you off, “Fucking deserve each other.”

  The door swings shut behind him, and you stare ahead, breathing heavily, sure it’s the rain running down the glass making your vision blur. 

  “Steve?” Robin’s on the ground next to his head.

  He moans, but motions for her to help him up as you turn back around, so she swats at his chest, “Why’d you do that! What is wrong with you? He could have killed you, you idiot!”

  “Christ Robin,” he grumbles, “I’m fine, just-hey.”

  Steve’s over to you in two steps, bloodied and bruised hands cupping your cheeks and swiping at them. 

  Even through blurred vision, you can see the bright reds and darkening purple on his forehead, your fingers brush the scrape that’s just above the two freckles on his cheek. 

  “Thanks,” you hiccup out of a sob trying to break.

  “Of course,” he murmurs, thumbs still brushing over your cheeks gently, “What are…” he swallows, “What are friends for?”

  The sob cracks just as the thunder does and Steve shakes his head, eyes big and worried, “Hey, hey, come on, that asshole is not worth these and I’m not either and-“

  “St-Steve,” you sniffle, interrupting him. Trying to reign in all the extremely big feelings that have been held back for a long time, “Will you drive me home?”

  He looks surprised but quickly nods, “Yeah, yeah of course honey.”

  “Steve, I really don’t think you should be dri-“

  Robin’s hesitation cut off from the look he gives her and answered only with her eye roll. 

  Your hands shake in your lap, fingers playing with the seams of your jeans as Steve drives silently. The radio plays softly, lost in the rain pelting the windshield and the swoosh of the wipers getting it off. It’s only when you make it to your street that you finally are brave enough to talk again. 

  “How,” you clear your throat, sniffling away any residual tears, “How are you doing? With the storm I mean?”

  “Oh,” Steve nods, frowning at the road, “Yeah, good.”

  “Was that…was it real?” Gaze falling to your lap as you dare to ask.

  “What?” He stops at an intersection, looking over at you, ducking his head to catch your gaze. “What do you mean? The storms? There’s no way, you gave them too much credit. Those kids are smart, but they’re not that smart.”

  “No, I mean…are you even afraid of storms? Or was that just another part of the plan? Was it real?”

  Steve blinks at you until a horn honks behind him and he nods as he pulls away, “Yeah, yeah it was real.”

  You nod and he looks at your profile as you stare out the windshield, tear stained cheeks and bottom lip bitten raw, your hands won’t stop fiddling with things. When he pulls into the parking lot of the complex, he faces you. 

  “Is that why you won’t talk to me? You won’t even be my friend? Because you think it wasn’t real?”

  Your shoulders rise in a shrug, heart beating harder than it ever has as Steve shakes his head. He reaches for you, but hesitates, murmuring a plead.

  “Please look at me honey?”

  Your exhale is shaky, eyes watery again as you do what he’s asked. Heart’s What About Love starts playing. You close your eyes, shaking your head with a laugh as you swipe at your cheeks. 

  When you open them again, Steve is watching you carefully, and he speaks so softly, so sincerely, like he wants you to have to lean in to hear what he has to say.

  “Everything was real. Eddie let me take you to the diner and Robin put on Peter Gabriel, but that’s it. I swear, honey. How you reacted to those things, what I said, what you said, all of it, was real. And I thought, at my house, I thought it was clear how much I want you.”

  Tears rapidly fall down your cheeks as you nod, “Okay, but, what happens if you only want me because you can’t have me?”

  “What?” Steve looks at you, frowning, eyes glassy.

  Your hands swipe at your eyes as you shrug again. “What happens when you get what you were chasing, but another, more challenging want, comes along?”

  He swallows, looks up at you with his own watery eyes, “You really think that’s all I want? Do you hate me that much?”

  Images of your hand in his on a ferris wheel stir in your mind, of what could have happened after you threw that beer in Brendan’s face, images of a kiss and another kiss and another until you’re crying again. 

  As you lean over the console, you whisper against his skin before pressing a kiss to the two freckles on his cheek.

  “Never hated you.”

  You’re quick to climb out of his car, and run through the rain up your stairs and slam the door on the storm. Your back falls against it as you suck in a breath and cry, the lamp and radio flicking on as you do. 

  Heart’s song that was just playing in his car stops, and a familiar tune starts playing. It’s melody making you think of Steve between shelves, whistling. Making you think of a pool table in a basement on Cornwallis Street. 

  Your hand swipes at your cheeks as you try to get your breathing under control. 

  What if Steve Harrington has been chasing you all these years, but it’s never been about the chase, he just didn’t know you kept changing the rules and finish line on him? What if all he’s ever wanted was to run the race alongside you?

  Robin’s voice accompanies REO Speedwagon’s, making you spin towards the door. 

  Who wouldn’t want to be friends with a guy like that?

  As you fling the door open, wondering if you can catch him, Steve’s fist raises to pound on it.

  He stands on the stoop, rain pouring down, making his hair stick to his forehead and his eyes squint. 

  “Give me one more chance,” he breathes heavily, his car lights and wipers still going from the space below. 

  The music from inside your apartment plays loudly as he takes a step towards you and keeps pleading.

  “I’ll literally get on my knees right now, honey. I am begging you, to give me one chance. One date. No help from Eddie or Robin. Nobody. Just me, and you. Let me prove it’s real. Let me prove it to you?”

  It’s the moment right before a storm starts, when it’s like the earth is taking a deep breath of, soaking up the silence before it won’t get a chance of clam again for who knows how long. 

  He blinks at you through rain droplets clinging to his eyelashes, squinting under a bruised forehead and pouting through kissable lips. Your voice wobbles even after you shove the butterflies back down, giving them no chance to escape, not yet. 

  “Ask me nicely.”

BICFTF TAGLIST: Thank you SO much 💛

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

@curlsincriminology @siriuslysmoking @redbarn1995 @starry--sarah @starksbabie

@taccobelle @angst-lasagna @blckburd @crownofdecit @torntaltos

@sanniegirl1214 @yourmommilf @khena @ytgus @starryeyedpoet17

@halfburntout @belle101200

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana Part 1

Hello! And welcome to this fun little fusion that I came up with here. If anyone can find the post about gay legal troubles after gay marriage was legalized (I think was originally about polyamory divorces) let me know so I can link here, too.

Summary: Eddie is a successful tattoo artist in Seattle and is engaged to be married to Chrissy. Only there is one problem. Well, technically three. You see, back before the Supreme Court ruled that gay marriage was a right and not a privilege Eddie had gotten married in a couple of different states to different people. But now that's it's legal, he's a bigamist and he has to get his exes to divorce him. Which is easy enough for two of the three, not so much for the third. You see the third just isn't just any ex, it's the ex. Steve Harrington. So now he has to go down to Hawkins and try to convince the person he thought he was going to spend his life with to divorce him. Something much easier said then done, especially when Eddie finds himself falling back in love.

EDDIE IS GAY IN THIS BUT THERE ARE REASONS OKAY!

****

Eddie’s life was good. Let it be said that it was really good. He knew that. But he had regrets. Didn’t everyone?

He regretted how his band broke up. It wasn’t his fault, but he hadn’t seen the cracks when they had started to show. He hadn’t seen how tired Jeff was getting or how fucked Gareth was. He hadn’t seen that Brian was only phoning it in every night.

So when it all fell apart after a concert in Seattle, he was left holding the pieces of his band and his broken heart. He had gotten a job as a tattoo apprentice and had worked really hard to get his own chair.

He had friends. Good ones. Jeff had stayed in Seattle, too. Gareth had gone into rehab and had moved to a small village in the south of France. Brian had gotten married and moved back to Indiana where he became a teacher and lived a quiet life. The life he had always wanted.

Then there was Chrissy. He loved her so much. They had met when she came into the tattoo parlor to get a tattoo covered. She wanted to cover the name of her ex-boyfriend with a purple violet. Eddie had smiled at her when she asked.

It was some of his best work, if he was honest.

She was a legal assistant that had just gotten her paralegal degree and was trying to get a work visa.

She had come over to the USA from Barbados. A little island country in the Caribbean.

He didn’t know how she could stand living in damp Seattle after being born on sun-soaked shores under glistening palm trees. But Chrissy was adamant that she loved being in Washington where it rained almost all the time.

Eddie was on a mission. One that he had sworn to Chrissy that he would do today.

He walked into the county clerk’s office and applied for a marriage license for him and Chrissy.

“I’m sorry Mr. Munson,” the clerk told him, “but our records show that you have not one, not two but three marriages in three different states.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide.

“What?” He would remember that, surely.

“To a William Hargrove in Hawaii, a Thomas M. Hagan in New York, and Steven J. Harrington in Massachusetts,” the woman said, holding up her reading glasses in front of her face to read off the list.

“But those were only legal in the state they were preformed in, right?” he asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

The woman shook her head. “Not since the Supreme Court ruled that it was legal for gays to get married. It’s cause a lot of trouble for a lot you people, let me tell you.”

Eddie knocked his knuckle on the counter and licked his lips. “Shit.”

She grimaced sympathetically. “I’m sorry, but before you can get a marriage license in the state of Washington, you’ll have to provide divorce decrees from all three of your exes.”

Eddie pounded on the counter this time with his open palm. “Thanks.”

He walked away and he heard her call out, “Next!”

Shit, shit, shit.

This was going to be hell, he could feel it.

****

Chrissy had fast food waiting for him when he got home from work.

“Did you get the license?” she asked, handing him his food and drink.

Eddie buried his head in his hands. “No, because stupid gay marriage legalization made all gay marriages legal, no matter what state you preformed them in.”

“Oh.”

She sat down hard. “So your three marriages suddenly count?”

“Yeah,” Eddie murmured. “I don’t even know where any of them are. Like I assume Steve’s still in Hawkins, because he’d never leave, but the other two? I have no fucking idea.”

She patted him on the shoulder and said, “We’ll find a way. The law firm has investigators on staff for this very reason. It might take a while, but we’ll find them.

Eddie nodded. “I’m sorry.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and sat down on his lap. “I’m not. You didn’t know. Otherwise you would have taken care of it when Obergefell v. Hodges went through the Supreme Court.”

Eddie nodded, but he pursed his lips, his hands up around her waist to hold her steady.

“Let’s just eat and I’ll start work on it tomorrow,” she murmured. “Okay?”

“Mmk,” he muttered.

****

Three weeks later, Eddie had in hand two of the three annulments. Billy had sent his back with a little note that said, “With pleasure.” Tommy had merely sent his back without comment.

That was a relief. He was no longer bound to either of those two assholes. He wasn’t even sure what possessed him to marry them in the first place.

Well, okay. He did. He was far away from home, lonely and willing to connect with anyone who would fuck him.

He was getting ready to call Chrissy to her the good news when the phone rang under his hand.

Eddie frowned at it for a moment, before he picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Eddie? Eddie Munson?” the familiar voice sounded through the cell phone.

“This is he,” he replied, still confused.

“If you want to divorce me, you asshole,” Steve spat, “then have the fucking courage to tell me to my face.”

“Steve?” Eddie asked, his confusion still there, but for a different reason now. How did he get his number?

“Yeah,” Steve hissed. “Remember me? The man you left for fame and fortune? How is that going, by the way?”

Eddie gritted his teeth. “You know full well we broke up, I know Dustin still talks to you.”

He could hear Steve snap his fingers. “That’s right. You broke up. And until you tell me to my face you want to do the same, you take your annulment and shove it up your ass.”

“Stevie...” Eddie pleaded.

“Don’t ‘Stevie’ me,” Steve growled. “Fuck you.”

And the phone went dead then Eddie turned his phone around to see that yes, Steve had disconnected the call.

“Fuck.”

****

Eddie called Chrissy with the news. Two yeses and a ‘fuck you’.

“All right, Ed,” she said. “There is more to this than you’ve been telling me, so you are coming over to my apartment with the annulments you got and you are going to spill. Capeesh?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she huffed and then hung up.

Looked like today was hang up on Eddie day. He sat down at the table both annulments spread out in front of him and buried his head in his hands.

After a few minutes of allowing himself to break down, he picked up the papers and grabbed his keys, wallet, and cell phone.

Time to face the music.

****

Chrissy opened the door with a scowl, but softened when she saw how miserable Eddie looked.

He handed her the annulments and she put them her bag to take to work so that they could be filed with county clerk.

“Tell me about Steve Harrington.”

So Eddie did.

He told her about how they had bonded over a bunch of kids. Kids Steve had used to babysit, but once they got into high school came under Eddie’s wing as leader and DM of the D&D club called The Hellfire Club. How they had gotten together and when Massachusetts made it legal, him, Steve, Jeff, and Steve’s best friend Robin all drove out to Boston and Steve and he got married in a little court house.

“My Uncle Wayne was pissed he wasn’t there,” Eddie said. “But it was spur of the moment thing. We drove all night and got there that afternoon. We put on little suits and let the judge say his words.”

“That sounds sweet, so what happened?”

He let out a shuddering sigh. “Gareth graduated from high school and we got an offer to record an album in New York.”

“Why didn’t he go with you?” she asked gently.

Eddie rubbed his nose. “Because the kids still had two years left of school. He wanted to be there for them. A couple of them didn’t have good home lives and he wanted to make sure they had someone they could count on. We fought about it. Hard.”

“I’m sorry, cher,” she whispered giving his arm a squeeze.

“God,” Eddie said, his voice cracking. “The things we said to each other. It was bad, Chris.”

“And now he won’t sign the papers?” she asked.

He shook his head. “He told me the only way he’d sign anything is I came back to Hawkins and handed it to him myself.”

Chrissy nodded. “All right,” she said, “here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to get a proper divorce degree written up, making sure it’s worded so he knows you won’t be going after any assets he has and then you are taking a week off of work and going down there and facing him. Because holy fucking hell, Ed, he deserves some kind of closure as do you.”

Eddie let out a heartbreaking sigh. “I don’t know if I can face him, Chris. God, I put everything else before him and broke his heart. He always wanted this big wedding. A beautiful reception where all our friends and loved ones were there. A beautiful grey morning jacket with a proper boutonniere and saying his vows across from the one he loved. And instead he got an empty court house and broken promises from a screw up like me.”

She wrapped her arms around him and let him sob into her shoulder.

“Which is why you need to go down there and give him that closure,” she murmured, “so that he can have all that with someone else. Someone who isn’t afraid.”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, just let me know when it’s ready and I’ll take one of my vacation weeks to go to Hawkins, Indiana.”

Chrissy winced. “Maybe don’t sound like you’re going to your funeral, yeah?”

Eddie scoffed and rolled his eyes. As far as he was concerned he was going to a funeral. Maybe not his own, but the death of the first real relationship he ever had and if somehow he made it out alive, he was never going to be the same again.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Tag List:

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

@goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

@useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95

[midniqhtt]

steve harrington

masterlist • stranger things • 07/23/24

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs two

one I three

𑣲 his good luck charm I @bimbobaggins69

king!steve getting a little frisky before the basketball game because he swears you’re his good luck charm

𑣲 friends with benefits I @forever-rogue

𑣲 dirty dancing I @nexusnyx

When Steve went to the address for investigating purposes, the last thing on his mind was stumbling upon one of the most beautiful sights he's ever seen. It happens, though, and he convinces himself that meeting you was only a thing of the moment, until he encounters you outside the cinema a week later, crying. He does something about it.

𑣲 power trip I @silkscream

you and steve settle your differences when he drives you home

𑣲 fast times at family video I @thursdaygxrls

steve’s great a flirting. that is, until robin gets involved.

𑣲 crushes, chaos, confessions I @quin-ns 

dustin knows how steve feels about you and he can’t stop himself from spilling his best friend’s biggest secret to you.

𑣲 henderson!reader I @familyvideostevie

𑣲 favour for a favour I @yellowharrington

steve has a big ol' crush on the girl that trades him pastries for movies every week.

𑣲 whole I @freelancearsonist

𑣲 sincerely, yours I @superblysubpar

a movie night, a confession, an offer, your Calvin's bunched up on the floor of your best friend's BMW...and other places

𑣲 paralyzed I @murdockparker

She walked in on a Friday afternoon. Steve needed nothing more than to get to know her--if only he could find it in himself to speak to her.

𑣲 that guy I @appocalipse

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

𑣲 romance is dead, isn't it I @megxplryxb

𑣲 pretty girl part 2 I @hellfireclubmember

Dustin can't stop talking about the sub he got to fill in for Lucas, making Steve want to smash his head into a wall. That is, of course, until he sees you.

𑣲 baby, no attachment part 2 I @calumfmu

the 5 times Steve Harrington was an asshole to you, with the 1 time, he revealed his true self.

𑣲 the kings reign I @/calumfmu

King Steve, the stupid nickname you had heard your entire life. The rumors, the huge ego to match. It was everything that made you hate him, especially when your best friend wouldn't shut up about him. Robin was forcing you to be friends with him, but it wouldn't stop the passion you had dedicated to wanting nothing to do with him.

𑣲 tell me that i'm all you want I @judeswhore

everyone in hawkins knows about steve harrington’s somewhat infamous past and with your relationship being new and a little devil on your shoulder you start to worry if you’re simply just his next play thing

𑣲 blurb I @/judeswhore

𑣲 out of your league I @/judeswhore

steve’s friends refuse to believe his secret girlfriend is the pretty girl from the bakery and are more than a little surprised when you actually show up.

𑣲 fall into pieces I @taintedcigs

steve comes in his pants from eating you out. that's the plot.

𑣲 it just takes a kiss I @strangerstilinski

based on that scene in tasm where peter spins gwen around to kiss her — with just a dash of enemies to lovers

𑣲 handle with care I @thecreelhouse

Eddie and Robin think Steve needs to get out more, but he ends up in what he believes to be the wrong place at the wrong time, until he meets you.

𑣲 jealousy, jealousy I @s-brant

Nancy and Y/N are best friends. The problem is, Y/N and Steve have been secretly hooking up for weeks, and when Nancy asks for advice about possibly getting back together with him, Y/N doesn’t know how to feel.

𑣲 bags I @goldustwomun

you'd loved steve since you were fifteen, followed him wherever he went. so when you were finally over him, stumbling home with another man clinging to your side, why was he waiting by your doorstep?

𑣲 grand gesture I @loove-persevering

reader is seeing how close Nancy and Steve are and the looks they give. When the Reader goes to Eddie Steve gets confused and a little jealous because he actually has feelings for her.

𑣲 moral of the story I @refiwrites

Steve was still in love with Nancy, it was clear as day. 

𑣲 for a good time call! I @chestharrington

In the Summer of 1985, Steve's social standing is at an all time low. In an act of sheer, pathetic desperation, he calls a phone sex hotline. Little does he know, his dream girl from the hotline is just an escalator away.

𑣲 6 times Steve was pining I @fandomtravels

𑣲 you keep me hanging on part 2 I @once-upon-an-imagine

𑣲 icarus and the sun I @justburningdaylight

Reader’s in love with her best friend. Considering she can’t tell him about this particular secret, she instead entrusts it to her diary, neglecting to remember Steve’s old habit of reading said diary.

𑣲 sober thoughts I @munsster

If drunk words are sober thoughts, Steve sure is talkative when he’s had a few.

𑣲 need your lips on mine I @lonelysatellites

Steve Harrington will hook up with you. So why won’t he kiss you?

[justmeinadaze]

Don't Be So Hard (Part 6)(Steddie X Plus Size Y/N)

A/N: I have one more chapter I think :) Enjoy the angst!

Warnings: Older Dom (30s) Coach Steve Harrington/Older Dom (30s) Professor Eddie Munson & Young (20s) Fem Plus size Sub Student Y/N, SMUT, Steve becomes a bit subby in this chapter, light dirty talk, etc. Nothing too traumatic with this one in the smut department. FLUFF, they love each other

ANGST *directs angsty traffic with an angsty outfit with angsty batons*, boys met Y/N's mom, Mr. Harrington makes a brief cameo as well as Martin's father, boys have PTSD nightmares involving Eddie being hospitalized and the same events that happened with Chrissy. Cliffhanger ending!

Word Count: 4816

Series Here/Donate to Me

You hated this. 

More than anything you hated their reactions. 

It had been about a week since you told Eddie and Steve about your acceptance into the university in New York and since that time, they had kept their distance. 

You understood. 

After everything they had been through, of course they needed time think it over and work through their feelings but there was a part of you that was a bit heartbroken that they didn’t immediately wrap you in their arms and tell you they’d follow you anywhere. 

Theo was a great friend and the perfect soundboard for your nightly vent sessions. 

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t…I feel selfish always talking your ear off about my problems. How are you tonight?”

“Y/N, it’s total fine. What kind of fake boyfriend would I be if I didn’t listen to my fake girlfriend’s woos with her actual boyfriends?”

Eddie barely looked at you during class and Steve seemed to dive into focusing on his team. You could hear his shouts from the parking lot as he screamed at his players. 

Today was parent’s day which the dean coveted but both boys had told you once before they hated especially the metalhead. Parents rarely came by his classroom and if they did it was to threaten him to make sure he didn’t “harm” their child. 

Your mother usually never came but for whatever reason insisted this time around. 

“I remember when I came here—”

“Everything was different?”, you grin as you cut her off. “Come on, mom. No need to be an old lady and remanence.”

She beams your way as she pulls you into a hug, distracting you long enough that you don’t realize where she’s leading you till you hear their soft whispers.

“I don’t know why I still appear for this fucking thing. She was right. Most of these fucking people hate me.”

“Baby, everything’s going to be alright. Do you want me to stay with you--?”

Your mother clearing her throat grabs their attention as both men hastily straighten when they see your face. 

“Which one of you is Mr. Munson?”

“That, uh, that would be me, ma’am.”, Eddie stumbles over his words as he walks around his desk to shake her extended hand.

“I know. I just thought it would make you more comfortable if I pretended I didn’t know you.”, she murmurs as she smiles kindly and the metalhead’s eyes flick to you before doing the same. “Which makes you Steve Harrington.”

Nodding, he shakes her hand as well while you stand off to the side taking them in. As always they both looked delicious even with Eddie in his “formal” teacher attire (a button up shirt, slacks, and his hair pulled back) and Steve in a track suit but even you could see they were falling apart. 

Both men had rings around their eyes like they hadn’t slept in days and your professor’s nails had the underlining stains of chain smoking cigarettes. 

“I wanted to thank you both for protecting my daughter that night outside of the diner.”

“Of course. She’s, um, she’s a really sweet young lady. I’ve enjoyed having her in my class.” Eddie tosses a smile your way as your heart breaks at the sadness in his tone. “And I know Steve has enjoyed having a running partner. I can barely keep up walking since my lungs are filled with many years of smoke.”

“She picked that up from her father. He would run every morning and sometimes take her along. After he died, she kind of…picked up where he left off.”

“I, uh, I’m so sorry about…your husband. We read what he did…saving those people.”

“Oh, no need to apologize, Mr. Harrington. You did nothing wrong.” Steve eyes shift to yours as you see the internal blame swim through them before grinning down at her beaming features. “Thank you though. I’m glad you’re able to keep her company. Maybe I can take up running after she abandons me.”

“Mom.”, you playfully whine. “Now you see where I get my overdramatic acting talent from.”

“I’m just teasing.”, she jokes as she reaches out to pull you to her side. “I’m so proud of her for getting into that school but I’m going to hate her being so far away.”

“So you are leaving then?”, Eddie asks sullenly, trying to hide it behind a lightness that doesn’t fool you.

“Um, yeah. I think…what’s best for me is to…focus on my future…”

“What about your boyfriend? Theo is a pretty good actor to. I know he’d flourish in a city like New York.”, Steve replies with an edge of jealousy that has your head tilt.

“He IS a good actor but unfortunately, Mr. Harrington, Theo will be staying here so you’ll still have your quarterback while I’ll be all alone it seems.”

“Y/N, baby, can you give me a minute alone with these two? Why don’t you run down the hall and get us a water from that vending machine I saw.”

After giving you some dollar bills, you head out into the hallway and they watch as your mom’s entire demeanor changes. 

“You both are fucking stupid, you know that?”

“Ex-Excuse me?”, Eddie asks completely thrown off guard. 

“I’ll excuse the fact that the risk the three of you took could have gotten her expelled but I can’t excuse the fact that you’re hurting my kid. Oh, don’t give me that look. I’m old not stupid.”, you mother scoffs as they exchange a wide-eyed glance. “You should hear the way she talks about you both. She’s a great actress but as a mom you can always tell. When she told me she was leaving for New York by herself I was surprised. 

I kept waiting for her to follow it with something like ‘Coach Harrington will be training a team up there’ or ‘Professor Munson found a new school to teach in’ but nothing. Are you REALLY letting her go up there alone?”

“I…we…we have to stay here.”, Steve sighs. 

“No, sweetie. You CHOOSE to stay here. No matter how you sugar coat it, that’s the truth and I know you know that!”, she shouts behind her, confusing them before you turn into the doorframe and roll your eyes. “I told you. I’m old not stupid.”, she winks, collecting you before leaving the classroom. 

#################

Steve slowly walked down the dark hospital hallway as he listened to the deafening sound of monitors beeping around him. A door at the end caught his attention; he knew that room number. 

“Eddie.”

Hastily, he pushed the door open searching for the man he loved but was shocked when he found you in the hospital bed before him. You were wearing the clothes Eddie had worn that night in the Upside Down, down to the black bandana around your head. Blood stained your Hellfire shirt and a cry left his throat when he noticed the same red lacerations around your neck and wrists. 

“Y/N?”

Steve’s shoes squeaked against the linoleum as he stepped forward and his shaky fingers reached out to touch your palm. 

He broke then as his hand cupped your face, careful not to move the mouthpiece helping you breathe. 

“Please…please, baby, don’t leave me. I’m so sorry. Wake up, honey…WAKE UP!”, he screamed to no avail as his tears fell. 

“Where were you?”

At the sound of Eddie’s voice, he jumped up and wiped his eyes. As he stepped forward to embrace him, the metalhead extended his arms out pushing Steve hard away from him. 

“Where WERE you? We needed you, asshole, and you weren’t there!”

“I-I-I didn’t…I didn’t know…what happened?”

“Because of you she’s in pain. Because of you, we may die!”

“We?”

 It was only then that Steve realized Eddie was bleeding from his chest. 

“This is your fault, sweetheart.”, he said with distain before collapsing to the ground.

Steve shot up in bed, grabbing his own chest as he tried to catch his breath, quickly turning to place his hand on his partner who was still fast asleep. After leaning down to kiss his cheek, he threw back the covers and got dressed. 

***

Eddie’s eyes flew open as sweat covered his face and bare chest. 

Glancing around him, he realized he was back in his room at the trailer where he lived with his uncle before…

Throwing off his blanket, he ran to his mirror against the wall and his eyes widened as he realized the scars along his body were now gone. His hands shook as he reached for a magazine near his bed and read the date along the top.

“March 1986.”

“Fuck me.”, he murmured as he pressed his palms into his eyes. 

“Do you have it?” 

A voice from the living room called as fear flowed through him. He knew that voice…he heard it many nights in his dreams. 

“Chrissy?”

She giggled but her light nervous tone suddenly mixed with another voice that had him concerned as he walked down the hall. 

“No, dork. Someone’s been smoking his own stash.”, you beam as he visually takes you in. 

You were dressed just like her; the cheerleading uniform down to the green scrunchie in your hair.

“So do you have it? Steve’s waiting for me.”

“Steve?”, he repeats. 

“Yeah? Steve Harrington, my boyfriend and captain of the basketball team? Seriously are you alright?”

“Y/N…I…this is dream. It has to be a dream. Wake up, Ed. Wake up.”

Closing his eyes, he smacks his forehead as he commands his brain to do what he wants but when they land on you again you’ve changed. Your eyes were vacant white as you stood there in his living room. 

“No, no, no, no…STEVE! HELP!”

Your feet started levitating off the ground and he began to slowly back away before he heard your voice. 

“Eddie? Wh-What’s happening? I’m so scared. Please don’t leave me. I love you so much.”

“Stop…please…wake up…”

“Eddie, please.”

“It’s not you. It’s not you. It’s not you…”

“EDDIE, HELP ME!”

He covers his ears, falling to the floor as history replays itself and he screams so loud he hopes his real self would hear his cries to wake up.

The trailer door smashed open, startling him as he watched Steve and his jock friends run inside. 

“Honey? No, baby. No…”, the man sobs as Eddie cringes at the sound, hating hearing the man he loves in pain. “You killed her you fucking freak!”

Steve rose to his full height and pointed the end of his bat towards the metalhead. 

“You couldn’t just leave her the fuck alone!”

“I love her! I would never hurt her or you!”

“Pfft damn right you won’t. You’re never going to hurt anyone ever again.”, the man hissed, raising his weapon and swinging down.

Eddie bolts awake as he pants, preparing for his partner to soothe him like he always does. When hands and a soft tone don’t comfort him, he turns to find himself alone in his bed. 

“S-Steve?”

Running through the small house, he searches but doesn’t find his boyfriend anywhere. Taking a seat on his mattress again, paper grazes his knee as he notices a note on his end table.

“Baby, 

Needed some time to think. 

I’ll be home later. 

Love you,

Steve”

################

A repetitive knock on your door grabbed your attention as you placed the book you had been reading down and opened your dorm door to a wild-eyed Eddie. 

“Hey, hey, hey, um…I’m sorry…I hope—hope I didn’t wake you…I, um, I’m just…I can’t find Steve and—”

“What? Hey, hang on. Come in.”, you usher as you close the door and guide him to your bed. “Everything’s ok, baby. Just breathe.”

At your soft tone, his gaze shifts your way as he tries to deliver you a comforting smile even as his whole body vibrates with agitated energy. 

“T-Thank you. I just…I’m sorry I woke you up—”

“No, no. You didn’t wake me up. I couldn’t sleep so I was reading a book.”

“What book?” When you flash him the cover of a self-titled Dungeons & Dragons fantasy novel, he chokes a bit on a laugh coming from his throat as a tear involuntarily falls from his eye. “I read that…when it came out…during my first try at my senior year…”

“Yeah. Steve told me one time it was one of the few novels he could follow and understand.” When you giggle, he laughs with you as his palms reach up to wipe his eyes. “What’s going on, Eddie? Did you have another nightmare?”

You watch as his eyes fleet rapidly around the room but you know he’s not looking at your space but the dream he had experienced. 

“It was 86 and I was in my uncle’s trailer. I h-heard her voice but when I went into the living room, you were there…dressed just as like she had been…Chrissy…when she died.” As his voice cracked your heart broke as you scooted closer to his side and ran your hand down his back. “You kept begging me to help…but I couldn’t…Afterward…Steve came in sounding how…how he used to before…he said it was my fault…I should have left you alone.”

“Eddie.”, you coo as you lean against his shoulder. “Everything’s ok, sweetie. I’m right here and no one is going to hurt me.”

“Except us.”, he whispered so low you barely heard him before he abruptly turned and cupped your face in his hands. “We love you, Y/N, so much. I hope you know that.”

You nod silently as you try to control your own tears, ignoring your pain to deliver him a gentle smile. 

“You, uh, you said you couldn’t find Steve?”

“Oh, um, yeah. He left me a…a note saying he needed t-to think but I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Then where would he go that he knows you wouldn’t come looking?”

At your question, his eyes snap to meet yours as he curses under his breath. 

“God, I hope he didn’t go there…”

“Let me put on my jeans and—”

“NO! No…sweetheart…”, you snapped before sighing when you jumped slightly. “You don’t want to go here, trust me.”

Shaking your head, you ignore him as you find your pants and shimmy them up your hips. 

“That’s what you don’t seem to understand, Eddie. I’d follow you both anywhere…what hurts is you won’t follow me.”

***

Steve smirks from his place on his mattress in his old room back at his parent’s place. It had been almost 10 years since he had been here and he couldn’t help but be surprised that his parents left everything as is. 

To be fair, he never really had much, usually having the whole house to himself the bulk of his youth. He had so many memories of girls that had come and gone including Nancy who broke his heart. 

People who he had considered his friends, swimming around in his pool, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer. 

Try as hard as he might, he couldn’t remember Eddie at this time. Of course, he knew of him; the freak of Hawkins but he couldn’t genuinely remember seeing his face throughout the halls or the small town he grew up in. 

Grabbing one of his random middle school year books, he browsed the pages, skimming through the M’s until he found what he was looking for. 

There he was; Eddie Munson with his buzzed hair and devilish smirk as he bit his bottom lip towards the camera. Steve laughed to himself as his fingers traced the image. 

He wished he knew him then but even he knew Eddie would have hated him. 

Hell, he hated himself. 

Another memory flashed through his mind as he laid back against the covers and hugged the book to his chest; the night he came home after the mall burned down to an empty house all alone. Silently he had climbed the stairs and took a long shower as he hissed at the burning sensation of the cuts along his face. 

Steve had cleaned his wounds, flinching at the flashes of pain as he remembered the fist that constantly hit his face. After bandaging himself, he turned off the lights and laid in his bed as he sobbed, allowing his pain to overcome him now that he didn’t need to be strong for anyone. 

Steve knew Eddie would have taken care of him… Made him laugh and probably scold him for being too independent. As he fell into his memory, he closed his eyes as his lip quivered and he imagined a different reality of that night. 

“Hey, sweetheart, everything’s ok.”, Eddie would coo as he pets Steve’s hair behind his ear before wrapping his arm around his waist to pull him closer. “I got you, baby. You’re safe now.”

“It hurt so bad…I thought I was going to die…”

“I know. I know but you didn’t. You helped save Erica and that little butthead so they could save you and Robin.” The pretty boy chuckled at the name making his partner smile at the sound. “You helped save the town, Steve, and me. Thank you, baby.”

“Look, I just need to know if he’s fucking here!”

The sound of Eddie’s agitated voice cut through the fog as his protective instinct kicked in and he headed for the stairs. 

“I haven’t seen my son in over 10 years! Why would you think he would be here?!”, his father yelled causing him to hasten his pace. 

“I’m here. I’m here. Sorry, I didn’t know you even home, Dad—" The image of you behind his boyfriend at the front door had Steve freezing in place. “Y/N? What…what are you doing here?”

“Y/N? So this is the girl that ruined a young man’s life? Why are you even here, young lady? You shouldn’t be with these grown men let alone this murderous freak.”

“Last time I checked, I’m a fucking grown up as well who doesn’t judge people based on idle gossip.”

“So disrespectful.”, he spits as Mr. Harrington turns to face his son. “Why are you here? Last I heard you were punching prominent members of society.”

“I needed a place to think.”

“Hm, well, if you want to come back home, you’d have a lot to make up for, son, before you get anything from your mother and I.”

“I’m not coming back home.”, Steve declares as he pushes his father aside to grab Eddie’s face and forcefully bring his lips to his own. The metalhead was taken off guard only for a moment before cupping his partner’s cheeks to hold him closer. “I’m leaving Hawkins with the man I’ve been in love with for the past ten years and the woman who changed our lives for the better. I’m tired of hiding them—”

In the middle of his speech, his dad went inside and slammed the door loudly cutting him off.

Steve chuckled breathily as he focused on Eddie who was clinging to the man’s wrists.

“I almost lost you once, baby, and I won’t do it again…with you or her. Let’s get the fuck out of here and be fucking happy.”

Wrapping his arms around him, they passionately kissed as the metalhead nodded. It wasn’t until your sniffle caught their attention that they remembered you were there. 

“Hey, look at me.”, Steve softly instructed as he let his partner go to tilt your chin up as your head hung. “We know we put you through a lot, Y/N, but if you’ll still have us—”

You jumped into his arms and he smiled as you kissed his lips. 

“You’re never going to let me finish a sentence are you?”

“No, you idiot.”, you laugh as he puts you down so you can kiss Eddie who wraps you up in his limbs and twirls you as you both grin. 

#################

This was new for you. 

Usually, of course, both men carried that dominate energy but as you watched Steve bouncing on Eddie’s cock while his hands balanced on his tattooed chest he seemed so…vulnerable. 

Laying by the metalhead’s side, you tenderly kissed his shoulder and neck as you watched his eyes struggle to remain open as he continued to pant. 

“Just like that, baby, fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

The man above him threw his head back as he increased his rhythm, lazily stroking his length as he mewled. 

Eddie hastily sat up and clung to Steve’s lower back as he guided his movements. Their noses touched and the coach held on to his boyfriend’s neck just below his ears with his large hands. 

“I love you so much, Steve. Thank you for everything you do to keep us safe.”

His movements stalled as he leaned his forehead against his partners and even as his hair blocked his eyes, you could see the tears that fell as his bottom lip shook. 

“Yeah, I know, sweetheart. I know.”

“We hid because of me—”

“No, no, baby. We hid because of this stupid fucking town and your ignorant father but not anymore. We’re going somewhere else where we can be ourselves with someone who loves us.”

Steve’s head turns slightly to meet your gaze as his head leans against Eddie’s who tenderly kisses along his chest. As his fingers reach out to touch your cheek, the metalhead grips him tightly as he starts thrusting upwards.

“I’m sorry, honey.”

Your heart breaks at his whispered words as you kiss his palm.

“I forgive you. I’m so happy you’ll both be with me.”

They smirk as Steve whimpers, returning his limbs around Eddie’s neck as he met each pump of his hips with a bounce of his own. 

“That’s my good boy. Cum, baby. Cum for me.” At his boyfriend’s breathy command, the coach trembled as he whined his name and his release hit their stomachs between them. “Good…God, you look so sexy when you cum.”

Eddie smiles as Steve giggles, placing a light kiss on his lips while he continued to praise him. 

“Can you let me take care of our girl now?”

Nodding, he backed out of the way as the metalhead tackled his arms around you making you laugh as he kissed you before flipping you over to place you on all fours. A heavy sigh of pleasure left you as he tenderly kissed along your spine till his chest was flat against your back. 

“I love you, Eddie.”

“I love you to, baby. I can’t wait to start our new life with you.”

After reaching between your bodies, you both moan as he guides himself into your core and your head hangs as he gradually thrusts his cock deep inside you. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so wet. Did you like watching him ride my dick?”

“Yes, Sir…s-so handsome.”

“Yeah, he is.”

Thick fingers slide underneath you and you can’t help but smile when you open your eyes to see Steve in front of you as he plays with one of your tits. Eddie tilted back on his knees and the other boy took the opportunity to grip your sides and guide you upwards till your back was against his boyfriend once more. 

While your professor circled his palm around your throat to keep you steady, the coach leaned towards you to wrap his lips around your nipple as your own fingers threaded through his hair. 

“Oh my god.”

His tongue flicked and sucked at the erect nub while his digits blindly found their way to your clit, pressing circles against it matching his partner’s pace. 

“H-Harder, Mr. Munson, please.”

The sound of skin smacking skin echoed through the room mixing with the obscene sounds of Steve’s tongue sucking marks into your chest and up to your neck. 

“Cum, Y/N. Cum all over his cock.”, he practically begged as your face fell against his shoulder. 

While Steve hugged your head to him, he reached around you to grab Eddie’s jaw and bring his lips to his own. Your body trembled as you came and the metalhead’s grunts of pleasure filled your ears as he sloppily thrust his spend within your tight walls.

Their kisses traveled to your own body as you three toppled to your sides in each other’s embrace. 

##################

Your eyes fluttered open to both men in their boxers at the desk in their bedroom. Even with their backs to you, you could tell Steve was annoyed. 

“Steve Harrington, at some point you are going to need to learn how to use a computer.”

“Eddie, the words are so small!”, he whispers in agitation. 

“Ok, grandpa, but they’d be the same size on a newspaper.”, Eddie teases as he chuckles through his teeth. 

“What are you two doing?”, you ask as you sit up and lean over the bed to grab one of their discarded shirts from last night. 

“Well, I’m teaching granddad here how to navigate technology.” Steve narrows his eyes at his boyfriend as you come around to sit on the metalhead’s lap. “Then once he calms down enough and stops bitching…we were going to see if any universities in New York were hiring.”

“We probably also need to look for apartments or houses. Once the semester ends, we can fly up there and see what they have so we’ll be ready by January. We want you settled before the new semester so you’re not panicking or worried about anything.”

“So…this is really happening? You’re really coming with me?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, we are. You were right; it’s time for us to move on and live our lives.”

“I had dream the other night that you were hurt in our battle ten years ago.” As Steve spoke, you both turned to face him as he stared into the void in front of him. “You were dressed just like him, Y/N, you were even in the same hospital room… That image of him…it stays with me. Mostly because I almost lost him.” His gaze shifts to meet yours. “I know it’s a bit dramatic but thinking of you going to New York…losing you… it feels almost the same. I can’t lose him or you, honey.”

Grinning softly, you climb into his lap and hug him tightly to you. 

***

You knock on the dean’s door that Monday morning having gotten a letter from him (or most likely his secretary) taped to your dorm door. 

“You asked to see me, Dean Gillman?”

“Uh, yes, Miss Y/L/N, please come in.”

After placing your backpack down, you take a seat realizing then that there are three chairs in front of his desk compared to the usual one. 

“I heard you’re leaving us to go to NYU. Are you all set?”, he asked light-heartedly as he smiled your way. 

“Um, yeah, I got my transfer credits approved and everything.”

“Wonderful, wonderful.”

Another gentle knock startles you slightly but not as much as the two men who walkthrough. 

“You asked for us?”, Steve inquired cautiously as his eyes surveyed the room. 

“Yes, please come in and have a seat. I assume Mr. Munson is with you?” Eddie appears just as apprehensive as they both take a seat on either side of you. “Good, everyone is here. I wanted to have a calm discussion about this because this is a sensitive matter and—”

A male voice shouting at the dean’s secretary grabbed everyone’s attention as he sighed behind his desk before the door burst open and Martin’s father flew through. 

“Have you fired them and expelled her yet? I didn’t want to miss that.”, Jared announced with malice dripping from his demeanor. 

“Mr. Click, this doesn’t concern you—”

“Like hell it doesn’t! My son was expelled because of this lying whore and now I have proof!”

Eddie rose first, prepared to fight for your honor before you placed your hand on his chest to stop him. 

“You have proof of a professor and coach fraternizing with a student. NOT what happened between the younger Mr. Click and Miss Y/L/N.”

“Jesus, are you fucking kidding me?!” Security appears and the dean immediately points towards the man commanding they take him away. “What the fuck?!”

After slamming the door, Dean Gilman huffs as he places himself behind his desk once more. 

“Miss Y/L/N, are you alright?” 

While they had carried Jared away, you hid behind the metalhead with your body pressed against his back and your fingers clinging to his shirt. 

“Hey. Come on, honey, everything’s ok.”, Steve coos as he reaches for your biceps to lightly guide you forward and into the chair. He knew they were caught and there was no reason to hide it any longer. “There you go. Are you ok, baby?”, he asked Eddie as he cupped his face in his palms. 

“Yeah, I’m alright.”, he grumbles as they both take their own seats. 

##############

@joannamuns9n @dckweed @corkadymu @lilaclazer @aol19 @myherometalhead  @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @too-efn-old-to-be-here @eddiexmunsonlover @strangerthingsfangirling

@1deverland @checosbluespring @twirls827

[stevefromupsidedown]

Façade — Pt, one : the heartbreak ● steve harrington x fem!reader

synopsis: First kisses are magical, right?

warnings: fem!reader with she/her pronouns, deaths, blood, gore and violence, references to mental health issues and low self esteem, very heavy on the angst, very little comfort, basically reader's the worst pessimist, very introspective, references to sexual themes, 18+ ONLY (overall warnings for the series, read at your own risk, don't make it my problem)

This material is @takemetothelakes-poets’ property.

PT, TWO | SERIES MASTERLIST | SERIES PLAYLIST

Summer ‘85. Starcourt burned down and Sheriff Hopper was announced dead on the city’s televised news, smoke blowing through her vision and blurs the screen for a few seconds before it dissipates. 

She looks to where it comes from, deep brown curls fall past his shoulders, she can see his tattoos peeking through his white tight vest top. 

Eyes go from the tv to her’s, his eyebrows widen slightly as he hands her the cigarette he rolled, a look in his eyes she can’t decipher yet, she takes a puff out of it and hands it back to him, “There’s something really weird about this town,” her voice is hoarse as the smoke leaves her lips and Eddie can’t seem to stop staring at her, losing himself in all the unthinkable thoughts he’s not supposed to have about her.

He breaks out of his haze as he takes it back and finishes the cigarette, “What do you mean?” 

“Byers’ kid, Barbara, the Sheriff ?,” she leans her knees against his leg as she sits cross-legged on his sofa, “And don’t tell me it’s a coincidence, nothing ever happens and suddenly a kid goes missing, is found dead, buried then out of nowhere is found alive? Same week, Barbara goes missing, and a year later her death is explained? Eight months later, Hopper’s dead in a burning mall that’s been there for what, barely four months? That’s coincidental?” 

“Damn, Sherlock Holmes. You’re so smart.” 

“Stop mocking me, you’re so fucking high.” 

“Yeeeah, it’s starting to hit,” he started to laugh, that high pitch voice with that contagious smile of his, his head fell against her arm, his dark curls falling on her lap, she couldn’t help but join him and laugh too, and damn, did he love that sound, but he wouldn’t act on it, as he knows she wasn’t in a good place to reciprocate anything, but God, he would die a satisfied man just to be able to taste her lips once, just once, would that be so much to ask for?

Maybe so. 

A few months later, a new school year has started and Eddie’s back in highschool and with her help, he might actually get his diploma, Steve managed to get this job at Family Video, thanks to Robin, he goes to dates almost every day with the week, sometimes with the same young women, until eventually he was disappointed because it’s not quite what he expected, since Nancy broke up with him, Steve's lovelife and self confidence was basically nonexistent. 

He hadn’t realised it at first, because he hated being too introspective, but he was bored and lost, purposeless, at the dawn of his twenty-first birthday, he felt like he didn’t know who he was, who was he really under the façade he hid under from all the wrong influences in his life ? 

His father and his primal instinct to be a shark and possess and control everything in his life in the name of pride and masculinity. Being successful meant money, a good car, good house, good wife, good and successful son. Did he really want that life? 

He had wanted it once, with Nancy, but what would their life look like? Copy and paste his father’s life? No. This, he was sure, he didn’t want to hide in the conformity he was supposed to fall under, he refused to resemble the shadow of himself he once hid under with the nickname “King Steve”. 

Unsure of what his purpose could be, but, he knew he wanted, needed to make meaningful connections, something that makes him vibrate, something that lets him know for sure that he’s surrounded with the right persons. 

He’s found himself on dates, searching for those meaningful connections, excited to branch out, lost in both amusement then frustration of not feeling something and not finding someone. Sometimes it led to his bedroom in the gargantuan house he had trouble consider his home. He had nice moments, but he longed for something more than sex, he longed for someone new in his life, someone freshening up his views on people and life.

The chime in the shop’s entry wakes him up from the quick checkup of his life he was doing in his head, not that glorious he thought, before he forced himself on the task he had started, which was to register the tapes back in stock in the software and control the tapes before he could put them back.

A voice came from the back, one he knew was familiar, but struggled to put a name on until she arrived, accompanied with one voice he knew and would recognise even in the Upside Down, Dustin arrives, greets him and makes a run for the Sci-Fi section, “Don't run, Dustin, something falls you’re cleaning up, I warn you!” 

He hears him say something but he doesn’t listen, instead his eyes focus on the young woman that walked in with the teenager. 

He remembers her, not that vividly because it brought back memories of his past self and immediately he feels ashamed of himself, of who he used to be. He remembers her from highschool, the same grade as him, she was more or less friends with Nancy and Barbara, they had spoken on very little occasions. He remembered she was usually in her own little bubble, not really caring about the etiquettes of a highschooler, even if at that time, he was very attached to that. She knew she was titled as an outcast, having very few friends, being called mean names, essentially by Tommy and Carol and him of course. 

He may have been called King Steve, he was a follower, a sheep. 

He also remembers that Will and Barbara’s disappearing were the turning point in Nancy’s and her friendship, it broke everything, his ex-girlfriend’s guilt and shame being the main culprit, he saw her in the hallways and in some of his classes. She always looked passive, disinterested in any highschool activities. 

With a timid smile, he stood up, her name on his lips, “Were you looking for something?” 

She seems confused at first, because he remembers her name, so what Dustin had told him was true? Steve had changed, and he was in his highest esteem, “No, um— actually I came in with Dustin, I’m paying for the movie.” 

He didn’t have time to say anything else, or apologise, Dustin came back with the movie Alien, excited and handed the tape to Steve, who registered it to her name and their first meeting stopped there, and Steve felt disappointed he couldn’t say anything more but she had to come back to give the tape back, right? Or would that be Dustin? He felt a flash of hope that quickly went away. 

He was right, though. She came back later that week to give the tape back, he thought he would never find the courage to talk to her besides doing customer small talk, but as she was leaving, her hand on the door ready to push, and goddammit she’s about to get away!— “Wait!” 

She stops dead in her tracks, their eyes lock; it starts there. 

Platonic coffee dates turned into seeing movies at the cinema, turned into sharing a plate of fries after a screening of A Nightmare on Elm Street 2, at a diner, hiding in a booth in a corner, loud laughs and giggles coming from them. 

Steve didn't realise it immediately but there was a deep connection between them, with more and more time spent with her, and none spent with the other girls, he realised, this might be it. She might be it. 

He let himself dive into the newness of their relationship, and how fresh and good it felt. 

It’s after a few days of staring down at her lips, whenever she talked, bit her lip or wetted her lips with her tongue that he felt captured by them. 

Then her smile grew on him, it was so contagious he couldn’t help but smile whenever she did, but the worst of it all, that made him understand he was down bad, was that his imagination was betraying him, actually it was worse, both his imagination and free will were working against him as he longed for any kind of opportunity to get up close to her, it was driving him crazy. 

She was driving him crazy with her full, inviting lips that looked chapped from all the time she bit down on them out of habit from nervousness, but none of it mattered because he needed to taste them. He would die a happy man just to be able to taste her lips once.

One time, at the drive-in, he had been brave during the movie to rest his hand on her thigh, her head spun to meet his eyes, their gaze locked in, she smiled at him as she intertwined their fingers, with the lights reflecting on her face, he knew, but he didn’t act on it, yet. 

Driving her back to her house, his hand lingered on her thigh and didn’t move unless he really needed it, he parked and hand in hand they walked to the front door, she turned on the fairy lights on her porch, her back completely leaning on the front door, their hands tangled. 

The ghost of a smile appeared on her lips as she looked at their hands, her head looked up to meet his eyes and her smile widened and shined so bright he mirrored her smile.

He felt it was the right moment, but he was timid, almost as frightened as for his first ever kiss. 

One of his hands travelled to her face gently, his fingertips touching delicately her cheek, his touch glided down the left side of her jaw, he cupped her chin in his fingers, his eyes traveled her face to memorise every softness and curve, the shine and the hope in her eyes, their eyes connected and never left one another's gaze, both so into their moment, their little bubble.

“Can I—”, he started but his voice broke, his fear was sincere, she was sure of that, he was so vulnerable with her. He didn't want to misread, mess up everything they had together, a fond smile formed on her lips and she leaned closer until their noses touched, their eyes closed to the proximity.

“You can always kiss me, Steve,” she murmured against his lips then she lightly pushed her lips on his, it was hesitant on both sides, a very tender peck on the lips, they disconnected quickly, foreheads touching as they took their time to process that they were kissing and they both wanted it as bad as the other. 

His other hand left hers’ and brought her face closer to his, palms along her jaw, and their lips met a second time as they moved in sync, his lips pulled harder on hers’, he grew more confident, comfortable and greedy, he knew, right there and then, that he would never get tired of kissing her. He didn't know if it was love, he didn’t have a clue how to describe it because how the hell does one know if it’s love, but he knew for sure he felt the connection he's been yearning for. 

That night, he left her with a kiss on her lips and her forehead as he wanted nothing more than to hold her close to him. 

And, fuck, he should have seen it coming then. 

Steve started feeling the doubt coming in, it had nothing to do with trust, or the lack of it, but because of the Upside Down, and the lies he would have to make up if —or when— he would have to protect the kids again. He couldn't tell her about that place, about the nightmares he gets sometimes, about why he needs their relationship to be super slow, because if he explains about him and Nancy, he needs to explain about Barbara, Will, and El, and he can't. He fucking can’t.

He cannot invite her in that insanity, he cannot risk her life just for the sake of having her. It starts to weigh on him, shifting between enjoying the laughs, the giggles, the kisses with her and the guilt, the inevitable hurt he's going to force on them.

He feels himself slowing down even furthermore, conflicted. He feels selfish for wanting love and warmth that she provides with such ease. Kisses and caring touches that she gives away so.. easily, feeling so comfortable around him, like she might have found someone who loved her for her, and not for the prize of having seduced her.

She was okay with the slow pace, in fact she was on board with it as she needed it after the last relationship she had, or the lack of it, the result of investing herself in someone who only had the intention of getting in her pants, pain and lack of confidence were the prize she hadn’t asked for but had been delivered to because of this stupid boy.

She truly believed Steve was different, he had matured, he proved it to her every time they spent time together, always so patient, because he didn't set the pace according to her but to them, only explained he didn't want to go fast, he wanted to enjoy the little moments they could have.  Flirtatious moments transformed into make out sessions, lust and longing made it difficult to walk back from it if they were to cross the line.

What Steve didn’t know yet is that she had talked to Dustin, the day they came in together at Family Video was totally by luck —or was it fate?—, it had been raining cats and dogs and she saw the teenager waiting for it to pass with his bicycle. She had proposed to help him out, in honor of old time’s sake, being his babysitter when he was smaller, he remembers he looked up to her and was actually happy to see her. 

Dustin knew Eddie, being a member of the Hellfire’s club, it was full circle, and helping him out that day meant going to Family Video so he could rewatch Alien with Eddie in honor of the sequel arriving soon. 

In the car they had talked, mainly about Eddie, but on their way back, Dustin couldn’t stop about Steve being so much better than he was. She trusted Dustin’s judgment, so she gave him a chance, just to see what could come out. It turned out.. it was going well, right?

Steve didn't want to hurt her and was torn between stopping everything before they spent the night together and keep going because he felt so good around her, he loved being with her, seeing her smile, hearing her laugh. 

He hadn't planned to fall so hard for her, he was so distraught, he felt like he was paralysed, he knew he had to stop it all, but the lust, the longing, the feelings he had for her got him spiralling into an amazing night with her. Remorse ran deep and almost immediately.

He didn't know if he could spend a day without hearing her moan his name so slowly, in a whisper, it drove him crazy. And beyond that, even if he loved the intimacy they had together, he loved her warmth, the goosebumps when he kissed her skin, the horror he experienced with the Upside Down quickly caught up on him. Shallow breaths left his lips as he caught his heartbeat rumble vividly in his chest.

While she was in her bathroom cleaning up, he felt anxiety creep up on him like a shadow crawling on his skin, sharpened claws clawing his chest, goosebumps rising in his body in fear. He caught the shortening of breath and the tightening in his chest as it happened. Flight or fight. 

Flight?

Fight?

Fl—fuck.

He dressed up in a hurry, he grabbed his keys from her desk, messily fixing his hair with his hand when he heard the bathroom's door open, he closed his eyes, cursing himself. 

Flight.

They observed each other in silence, keys in hand, her fingers gripping so tightly the towel she had around her shoulder to provide her some warmth, her body tensed, and she felt like she had just taken an ice cold shower. The glow and the softness in her heart from the aftercare and all the delicate kisses and touches broke away like glass shattering. Her body started shaking from the cold in her house and the shock. 

"You—,” her voice broke, she cleared her throat, but it came out broken, voice coarse, in a murmur she tried again, “You're leaving?" 

The way it came out, it sounded like it destroyed her as she spoke, it’s like saying it had made it real, their chest felt heavier by the second, the tears watering her eyes.

Fuck, he hated himself.

He had trouble finding his voice again, he had to try again too, his voice holding the weight of his actions, "I remembered— I…” 

Nothing came out. He couldn’t lie, nor could he tell the truth. 

“I'm sorry." 

He could hear their heartbreaks, feeling his own sink in his ribcage, he swallowed the lump in his throat, "I can’t do this," he whispered again and held back the tears as he escaped her eyes, walking away from her, from them.

He could hear her call his name as he walked, running down the stairs after him, his long legs got him to his car in a matter of a few seconds, he started it and drove away to his house, his vision blurry with tears as he saw her in the rearview mirror of his car, the image of her, barefoot on the entryway, in the middle of a November night, in only her shorts and tank top.

He saw her tears falling, her hands cupping her face as she sobbed. 

It’s not how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to be happy, tangled bodies wrapped in her blanket, discussing until dawn.

She went back to her room, walking, she was the shadow of herself, her eyes met the mirror she had stuck to the back door of her room, she hated what she saw. 

Instinctively she put on the sweatshirt that’s been sitting on her desk, she hadn't seen it was Steve's, until she realised it smelled like him, she held a fist of material, unsure of what had happened, and how it happened. She was confused at first, dumbfounded by the situation, until she realised she had been taken advantage of, again. 

She hated herself for it, she screamed into her pillow, thankful that the house was empty, no one could hear the cries of despair and rage. She ripped apart the Polaroids she had of them together, getting rid of everything on her desk out of rage, yells coming from betrayal, she ended up sitting on the floor, sobbing, suffocating. 

She felt stupid, such an idiot to think that Steve Harrington could love her, that anyone could love her, that he could have been the one, and that people seemed to only want her for the prize of it, for the pleasure they could get out of it. Like she was some prey for the others to take.

Parked in front of his empty house, Steve couldn't leave his car, he felt so terrible for making her go through this again, even while he loved her so much, he couldn't be with her, and he hated himself so much for it. Shaky breaths left his lips, in one moment of rage the side of his hand hit the steering wheel, yelling. 

Then he started crying, feeling so much shame, so much guilt, like an idiot. The anxiety crept once more on him as he felt difficulty breathing. Another panic attack. That night they both fell asleep in exhaustion, crying themselves to sleep. 

A week after, while Steve was sorting out the gifts he had bought for the teenagers and Robin and Nancy for Christmas, when he fell upon hers’,  he decided to hide it in his dresser, knowing full well he wouldn't give it to her, because they no longer were on speaking terms. 

It had started out so good but had stopped so abruptly.

[cosycryptid]

Closed Cuts and Faded Bruises - Part 1

Steve Harrington has always been the protector, the one who stands between the people he loves and danger or pain. But not long after the Starcourt incident, something extraordinary happens, taking his tendency to self sacrifice to an entirely new level. Also on A03 [here] Content warning for description of injuries.

It’s Robin who first noticed something weird with Steve, because of course it would be.

She’s new to their group, only has one experience with the weird side of Hawkins under her belt and has somehow spent more time with Steve in one year than the rest of the teens and adults have in three, mostly due to the shared trauma of working retail. Also, while the kids are around Steve often, they usually have so much drama going on between them that Steve wouldn’t blame them for being a little less observant of things outside of their group. They’d been through way too much already for people their age anyway so Steve wouldn’t want them worrying about him too.

And Steve? Steve’s never had any siblings to compare to, and he’s only just started taking big injuries. So, when Robin takes one look at him does a double take and says, “Hold up. What happened to your face?” as she climbs into the passenger seat of his car only two days after the Starcourt debacle, all he can do is stare at her, confused.

He shifts across to the rear-view mirror to check and sees nothing wrong with his face whatsoever, which only serves to further perplex him. He wonders if maybe something’s wrong with Robin, like perhaps the drugs still aren’t fully out of her system, but that wouldn’t make sense. It’s been two whole days.

“What are you talking about? My face is fine.”

Robin looks at him like he just said something absolutely ridiculous. “Yeah, Dingus. That’s the problem! Where the hell have all the cuts and bruises gone. Your eyes were practically swollen shut and now you look like you were never beaten up in the first place!”

“Uh, gee I don’t know Robin. Maybe because the injuries healed?” Steve responds sassily, not knowing what her issue is. “Injuries tend to do that, you know.”

“Yeah Steve, they do. But not in two fucking days!” Robin argues. “That’s crazy! You don’t even have a scratch!” Steve goes to reply, but she cuts him off. “And what about your head, did you get checked out for a concussion?”

“Concussion? Robin, I didn’t have a concussion. My head felt perfectly fine, apart from all the bruises and shit.” Steve shrugs as he starts the car. “I don’t know, maybe I’m just a quick healer.”

“That makes no sense, at all,” Robin tells him. “You were hit in the head so many times it’s a wonder you have any working brain cells left.”

“I’ve been hit in the head at least once a year for the past three years and I’ve never once had a concussion, and my braincells are working just fine. But thanks, Rob, love you too,” Steve replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

“I’m just baffled, is all,” Robin admits.

“Baffled?”

“Yes, baffled! Two days ago, you looked like your face was about to fall off and now it’s completely fine!”

“Well, now it’s okay. So, it’s whatever, right?” Steve says casually. “It’s not like it’s a bad thing that I bounce back quickly.”

“No, I guess it’s not bad,” Robin agrees hesitantly. “Just weird. So, so, weird.”

“Yeah well, you’re not exactly the height of normality yourself,” Steve mutters, then the subject is all but forgotten as they start bickering over which one of them is weirder.

--------------------------

The next time, Steve is helping Dustin build something. He doesn’t really know what it’s supposed to be or do, even after Dustin had very animatedly explained it to him at least three times. However, Dustin did say that it would require a soldering iron and there was no way Steve was going to let him use one of those without supervision.

It turns out that his supervision doesn’t really help much, because at one point Dustin gets distracted and the scolding hot soldering iron slips from his grasp. Steve sees that it’s going to land on Dustin’s foot and without even thinking about it, he grabs it by the hot end, frying the skin of his palm in the process.

“Shit!” Dustin curses, snatching it away from Steve by the safe end and putting it back in its holder. “Why did you do that?!” he shouts as he drags Steve to the kitchen by his wrist and slams on the cold tap, shoving Steve’s hand under the flow.

“It was going to land on either your shoe, or the floor and your mom would have killed me.” Steve explains over the rushing of the water.

“Not as much as she’s going to kill me when she finds out I burned you,” Dustin argues, still holding Steve’s wrist tightly. “You know you’re her favourite out of all my friends.”

Steve huffs out a laugh at that, though knowing that Claudia Henderson has a soft spot for him warms his heart. “Yeah, probably because the rest of your friends behave like animals and have no regard for other people’s property.”

Dustin begins to pull Steve’s hand away from the water to check on it. “They’re your friends too,” he points out. “And you love us all really; we’re like your kids or something at this point.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Steve protests.

Dustin doesn’t seem to be listening though. He’s moving Steve’s hand close to and away from his face and squinting at it like he’s trying to make sense of it.

“Huh,” he utters eventually, entirely perplexed.

“What?” Steve asks, pulling his arm from Dustin’s grip.

Peering down at his palm, Steve’s flummoxed by the miniscule mark he sees there. He could have sworn the burn was bigger than that, and his palm had been an angry red. His skin had made a sizzling noise; there’s no way he misheard that.

“Must not have been as bad as we thought,” Dustin shrugs.

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “Yeah, that must be it.”

But now Robin’s words from just after the Starcourt incident are circulating in his brain, and he can’t stop glancing at his hand for the rest of the evening to check if he saw things right. He also can’t ignore the curious looks Dustin sends his way as he continues to work on his project a lot more carefully. It can’t possibly mean anything though, that would be crazy.

_____________________

They say the third time’s the charm, but Steve had never expected the third time his body did something weird would be as dramatic as this.

He’s throwing a frisbee around with Dustin, Lucas and Max outside Max’s trailer, trying his best to get her outside and take her mind off Billy for a while. It was a wonder that she agreed to it in the first place because she’s been a little closed off lately, but she seems to be getting into the game they’d made up. A couple off onlookers seem to be invested too, one of which being Robin, who’s sitting on the steps of Max’s trailer and teasing him every time he messes up.

The other is a guy he knew from high school but had never really spoken to. Eddie Munson is sitting in front of his own trailer, writing something in a beaten-up notebook and occasionally taking a drag of a cigarette. Every so often seems to look up and throw a curious glance Steve’s way, like he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing is real. Steve’s a little curious too if he’s being honest, he feels nosey for thinking it, but he kind of wants to know what the guy’s working on in that book that has him so absorbed.

At some point, as they usually do where Dustin and Lucas are involved, things start to get a bit too competitive. The next thing Steve knows, Lucas has launched the frisbee into one of the highest branches of a nearby tree.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Dustin yells. “I said you were throwing it too high, but did you listen to me?”

“I wouldn’t have had to throw it so high if you weren’t trying to hit it out of my hand every time you failed to catch it and I had to step in, idiot!” Lucas yells right back at him.

“I did not fail to catch it; you were stopping anyone else from getting a chance,” Dustin argues.

“Just admit you’re terrible at this.”

“You admit it!”

Max rolls her eyes at their antics. “Okay, if we’re done here then I’m gonna go back inside.”

“No!” Dustin, Lucas and Steve all say at the same time.

“It’s alright, I’ll go get it,” Steve says. “So, you two dickheads can stop fighting. Okay?” He walks towards the tree and scopes out a path he can climb to get to the branch in question.

As he settles on a plan and gets a good grip on his first branch, he sees Robin sit forward a little in his peripheral vision. “Uh, Steve?” She calls hesitantly. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean some of those branches at the top look kind of thin.”

“I’ll be fine, Rob,” Steve assures her.

He knows she’s right, but he can’t stand the thought of Max going back to her trailer to be left alone with painful memories. This is the first time she’s agreed to do something with them in a while so if there’s anything he can do to stretch this time out a little longer, he’ll do it. So, he takes a breath and a moment to engage his core muscles, then hoists himself up onto the first branch, quickly reaching for the next one.

The others are watching him. He can almost feel their concerned gazes searing into his back as he climbs up too more branches. He keeps going though, even when the next one creaks ominously under his weight.

“Steve, Robin was right,” Dustin shouts. “This was a stupid idea, even for you. So just come down and we’ll think of something else.”

“Fuck you, Dustin,” Steve retorts, flicking a middle finger down at him as he scans for the next branch to grab.

It’s a bit higher up this time and he has to really stretch to get to it, but he’s being fueled by pure spite and the need to prove Dustin wrong at this point, so he manages. The branch he places his feet on wobbles precariously, but he’s almost there now. He just needs to climb up one more time and then he can probably reach the stupid blue plastic disk that’s caused all of this trouble.

“What the fuck is Harrington doing?” A new concerned voice chimes in.

Steve whips around to look, almost losing his now very flimsy footing in the process. His head spins a little when he realises how high up he is and how far he has to fall. So, he only looks down long enough to see that Eddie has walked over to join their group before he’s tearing his gaze back to the tree in front of him. His breath comes out a little quicker, but he forces himself to calm down.

“Getting himself killed for the sake of rescuing our frisbee apparently,” Lucas replies.

“I just lost one brother, can I not lose another one to a fucking tree, Steve?” Max says, her tone exasperated.

“Okay, ouch, that one hurt,” Steve mumbles to himself, his heart clenching slightly at the thought that Max thinks of him as a brother and that his current actions are causing her stress. “Look it’s right there guys, I can reach it, okay? Just give me a second and try having a little faith in me for once.”

Of course, as soon as he says that the branch he’s pulling himself the rest of the way up on breaks away in his hands with a loud crack and he has nowhere to go but down.

He feels his stomach swoop and wind rush through his hair and clothes like he’s going down the drop of a roller coaster, but this time there’s no track or safety restraints to catch him. Also, instead of exhilarated screams, he just hears the horrified yells of his friends and one acquaintance. As he’s falling, he sees the frisbee dislodge itself and follow him to the ground.

Before he hits the solid ground beneath him, he has just enough time to think ‘fucking figures’. Then there’s a resounding thud and a loud, sickening snap that rings in his ears.

Pain lances through his right leg like he’s been stabbed through it with a red-hot poker. Through the fog of shock that has descended over him, Steve just barely registers that the weird looking white and red shape on his shin is in fact a broken bone sticking out through his skin so severely that he can see inside of his leg.

A flurry of footsteps rush towards him, followed by a chorus of gasps and curses and then the sound of Robin retching. He honestly doesn’t blame her. His leg does look like something out of a horror film.

“Steve! Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Shit!” Dustin shouts, dropping to his knees and gripping Steve tightly by the shoulders. “What did you do?!”

“Fuck, are you okay, Steve?” Lucas asks unhelpfully, standing a little further back with one hand on his hip and another pressed to his head, looking a little lost and overwhelmed.

“Holy fucking shit, Harrington!” Eddie says, clearly panicking. “What the fuck?”

“Is that his fucking tibia?!” Robin exclaims, before gagging again. “Shit, I can’t look at it.”

“Who cares what it’s called?” Max saps. “It’s clearly fucking broken. So maybe we should stop standing around screaming and oh, I don’t know, call a fucking ambulance or drive him to the hospital before he bleeds out or something.”

That gives Steve pause, he looks back and forth between the scared faces surrounding him and the grotesque sight that is his leg. By all accounts, it should probably be bleeding pretty badly by now, but all he can see is a few traces of it on the bone and the edges of his ripped skin.

Also, he remembers hearing about one of the guys on the basketball team breaking their leg when he was in high school and apparently, they had vomited and passed out just after. Steve doesn’t feel nauseous or dizzy at all though, just a little bit alarmed at what it looks like and how fast it happened.

“Steve would you please stop just sitting there staring at it?” Robin says, but he barely hears her as he focuses on the edges of where his skin was cut. Steve would swear on his life he just saw part of it grow back the tiniest of millimeters.

He sits bolt upright, knocking Dustin’s hands from his shoulders and grabbing hold of the sides of his broken shin to lean in for a closer look. The group yells out protests, but it falls on death ears as he knows he sees it this time. His eyes find Robin’s and it’s like she knows what he’s thinking as soon as they meet each other’s gaze.

“Starcourt,” she gasps.

He nods at her because their conversation in the car about his face injuries was exactly where his brain was going.

“Starcourt?” the others parrot.

“Starcourt,” Steve nods. “So, I’m about do something weird and most likely disgusting,” he announces to the group. “Please don’t look if you’re squeamish because I really don’t need anyone getting sick on me right now.”

“Yeah, good call,” Robin says, turning her gaze to a patch of grass she suddenly finds particularly interesting.

“What are you talking about? What are you gonna- Fucking hell, Harrington!” Eddie shouts, his eyes practically bugging out of his head as Steve puts his fingers directly on the piece of bone that’s sticking out and pushes it back down, being careful to slot it back into place properly so it heals correctly.

The sensation of the two halves of his tibia bone clicking back together like a pair of extremely fucked up Lego pieces is going to haunt his nightmares for the next month at least. However, as he watches the bone and his skin knit themselves back together like nothing had ever happened, it’s the furthest thing from his mind. A couple of seconds later, Steve’s leg looks as good as new except for a few scrapes here and there, and he’s reeling over the implications.

Lucas drops to his knees; his eyebrows pinched together like he’s trying to understand the world's most difficult equation. Max is simply staring at him, her expression stricken. She looks like she’s taken a punch to the gut, and Steve knows he’ll have to have a conversation with her about all this when she’s ready to talk because he’s sure she’s feeling some conflicting emotions about him and her brother right now.

“The soldering iron,” Dustin whispers, drawing Steve’s attention away from the other two of Steve’s band of troublesome kids. “I knew you’d burned yourself worse than that. But it seemed impossible at the time. Shit, do you know what this means, Steve? Oh, we’re going to have to run some tests. This could be huge!”

“Henderson, I’m not going to be your lab rat,” Steve says, unimpressed. “Not a chance.”

Dustin immediately goes into whiney brat mode. “But Steeeeve, think of what this could do for science. Think about how many people you could help.”

“I fail to see how me being able to put myself back together in record speed is going to help anyone else,” Steve argues.

“That’s because you lack vision, Steve,” Dustin declares.

“Thin ice, Dustin,” Steve warns him. “Thin. Ice.”

“I - Uh-” Eddie suddenly pipes up, drawing the attention of the rest of the group, who had momentarily forgot he was also a witness to the crazy shit that just happened. “Did I just see Steve Harrington’s broken leg fix itself? Or am I high right now?”

“No, no, that’s what you saw,” Robin confirms.

“You don’t know the half of it, Munson,” Steve adds. “And you wouldn’t believe us if we told you, which we are legally not permitted to do.”

Eddie looks him dead in the eyes, his expression taking on a challenging nature. “Harrington, I just watched you push your broken shin bone back inside of you and grow your skin back over it like it was just a regular Sunday.” He says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Try me.”

Steve sighs, already knowing he’s about to break a few NDAs.

“Okay, Munson. If you think that you can handle it.”