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radioactiveparker · 1 year

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What I Go To School For - Steve Harrington X Teacher!Fem!Reader (Smut)

Summary - You, a Hawkins High science teacher, get seduced by your favourite student after hours

Loosely inspired by the song What I Go To School For by Busted

Warnings - Strong Language / Age Gap (all characters are 18+) / Public Sex / Oral (F & M receiving) / Spit Swapping / Unprotected Sex (PiV) / Choking / Pain Kink (?) / Praise Kink / Dacryphilia / Spanking / Overstimulation / Creampie / Breeding Kink (?) / Fingering / Cum Eating

Word count - 5.6K

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Steve Harrington relaxed himself on the door frame of your classroom, giving his hair a quick once over before crossing his arms over his chest. He slowly chewed a fresh stick of gum as his eyes raked over your sitting frame. He took particular notice of how your skirt had rolled up in your current position and exposed the soft skin of your thighs and how it tightened and stretched to fit the curve of your ass. He watched as your lips wrapped around the tip of the pen you were using and he crossed his legs to stop his cock from twitching in his pants. He thought back to his biology lesson with you earlier that day, and how he had dropped his own pen on the floor only for you to bend over in front of him and pick it up, giving him an innocent smile as you handed it to him. He quickly shook the memory from his head, preferring not to greet you with a raging boner showing. Instead, he knocked gently against the door.

"Come in." You called with an air of annoyance. You didn't bother to look up from the assignments you were currently grading, hoping that whoever wanted to speak with you would not distract you from your work for too long.

"Are you busy, Ma'am?"

"Steve!" You perked up before quickly clearing your throat and correcting yourself, "Mr Harrington, I thought you would have gone home by now. Is there something I can help you with?"

You couldn't help but pay attention to how good he looked today. Well, he looked good everyday, but today especially. You knew the moment he walked into your class this morning, that he was going to be on the forefront of your mind all day. And he was. With his perfectly combed hair, tight shirt against his pecks and well fitted jeans that stretched taught over the shape of his thighs, ass and bulge. You were aware that he was your student, and even thinking about being in a relationship with him was strictly forbidden, but you were only human, and Steve was an exceptionally good-looking man. There were moments when he was in your class that you would catch him looking at you, and there was a small part of you that hoped he reciprocated those feelings, but then you would see him looking at the other girls in your class in a similar fashion. And that was fine, you had told yourself, because he was a boy in his late teens who should be chasing after girls his age. Certainly not his teacher. It would be for the best if he didn't feel the same way, you had concluded to yourself when your class had ended, and finally made the decision to stop fantasising about something that was never going to happen. But still, you couldn't help the way he made you feel.

You quickly fixed your hair out of your face as he confidently stalked towards you and dropped himself onto the seat opposite you. You straightened your back and tried to calm your racing heart as he leaned over your desk, a tad too close for a casual meeting between student and teacher. The woodiness of his cologne was almost overwhelming but mixed well with the minty freshness of his gum. His smell alone was enough for heat to pool between your legs. For a split second, your eyes drew themselves to his smooth lips and watched him chew.

"Actually, there is. You see, I've been struggling a bit lately, and I was hoping you could go over some things with me before I take my finals."

Your shoulders slouched slightly with your disappointment. Of course, he had come to ask about his school work. Why else would he come to see you?

To bend you over your desk and fuck you like there's no tomorrow.

Absolutely not. He was your student.

Your favourite student.

But for no particular reason other than he was top of your class.

And that he's extremely hot.

"What would you like me to go over with you?"

"I seem to be struggling on the different systems in the body."

"Okay, any system in particular?"

He practically trapped your leg between his as he tucked himself further under the desk, the material of his jeans scratching along your bare leg, your knee rubbing dangerously high up on his thigh. Any sudden movement would have it resting on his--

"Reproductive system." His voice was low and silky. You wanted nothing more than to rub your thighs together to heed the aching between them, but Steve's thigh was proving to be an undesired barrier. And he had noticed, feeling them tense at his statement.

You swallowed thickly. "And what is it you would like to know?"

"How would a man go about pleasing a woman?"

You almost gasped at how forward his question was and quickly looked out of your classroom door to be sure that no other teachers had walked by and overheard.

"Mr Harrington, I don't think that's appropriate." The reality of what was happening had shocked you, and you quickly tried to divert away from the situation.

"I think it's a valid question."

Despite wanting nothing more to play along, you couldn't. It was wrong.

"Well, judging by the talk around school, I don't think you need any help in that particular area."

Steve couldn't help but smirk. You knew he was a good fuck and he wondered how many times you had thought about him fucking you. He knew that you did. It was written all over your face - the way you would look at him in class said it all. But he wanted to know how many times you had touched yourself while thinking about him fucking you. The question alone had his cock perking up.

"Maybe not. But it's still good to have some extra... tips."

Alarms were ringing in your head. Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't do it. But he was just so... seductive. The way his mouth formed his words and the flirty accent to his voice practically had you swooning. You didn't want to give in, but as you said before, you're only human. You huffed at your own weakmindedness (hoping that Steve would think you had had enough of his antics and back off) and finally decided to have a go at answering his question.

"If you must know..." You trailed off, standing up to face the whiteboard. You tried not to miss the heat of his leg between yours.

It was pure torture. You wanted nothing more than for this to stop, but you just couldn't help yourself. It had been so long since you had been like this with anyone - you were getting desperate. But that didn't cloud your judgement. You weren't looking for Steve as a quick fix. You wanted him. He was a nice boy, always looked after himself and was very polite to you. His devilishly good looks were just a bonus. But you had started something, now you must finish it. You took your time clearing the board, raking your brain for anything to say and praying that Steve would put an end to it or give you something to go off.

Instead, Steve watched as you took an eraser and cleared the remnants of pen off the board, staring longingly at your backside as it jiggled from your movements. He had no intentions of stopping. Steve had had a thing for you the second he saw you standing in front of the class - tight shirt showing off the roundness of your tits and a skimpy little pencil skirt that left nothing to the imagination.

You had turned in time to catch him staring, although he didn't seem to mind that you had caught him.

"Actually, Ma'am," the scrape of the chair against the floor startled you as Steve stood from his seat. He strode towards you again, standing close enough to trap you against the wall. You may have been a few years older than him, but he was significantly taller. His chocolate eyes fell downward from yours, and you realised he was staring down your shirt. You had unbuttoned the first few buttons to stop it from choking you, and he was now ogling at your black, lacy bra that did very little to cover your tits. He bit his lips as he watched them rise and fall with your heavy breathing. "I'm more of a... hands-on learner."

Your lips parted ever so slightly as he leaned into you further. His chest was now flush against yours, and your noses brushed gently. You closed your eyes as the mint from his breath was causing them to water, but still did nothing to pull away. If anything, you only brought him closer - resting your arms upon his strong bicep and fisting the sleeve of his shirt.

"Why don't we -erm- see what you know so far and -um- work from there." You managed to get out, feeling so pathetic for not being able to hide the effect he had on you.

"Yes, Ma'am." You had to physically prevent your eyes from rolling to the back of your head when he rasped in your ear.

He nipped gently at your lobe before placing a gentle kiss below it. You took a shaky breath in at the feeling, which egged him to continue. His touch was delicate, as if you were made of fine china, and you had to plead him for more. But he continued his slow, soft pace all the way down your neck until he reached the junction between your neck and shoulder. You supposed he was right to do so. It would be a pain having to hide hickeys for school, despite wanting to show off that he had marked you. He placed a final kiss, lingering longer than the others, and you could feel him pressing his nose into your shoulder. His deep inhale of your skin cause goose bump along your flesh. When you thought he was going to pull away, he continued to trail more kisses once again, this time pressing his lips firmer along your skin. He nipped and sucked at your collarbones, this time leaving faint bruises that would be easier to cover up. He continued on down your sternum until he reached the top of your breasts. Your hands reached into his fluffy hair as he sucked harsher and slowly unbuttoned the rest of your shirt. Finally, he pulled away from you, taking in your exposed upper body and admiring the gradient of hickeys down your front. At last, he pulled you in again, pressing his lips to yours in a clash of teeth and tongue. He moaned against your mouth and your pussy throbbed. His fingers glided themselves up your sides and over your breasts until they reached your shoulders, and he pulled your shirt down your arms to fully expose you.

"Steve," You moaned against his lips, "the door."

He let out a groan of annoyance as he pulled away and headed to shut the door. During this time, you shoved everything off your desk and perched yourself on top of it, spreading your legs as far as your pencil skirt would let you.

When Steve turned back around, he thought he was in heaven. He made his way back to you in urgency, taking his shirt off along the way. He attached his lips to yours again, bunching your skirt up to the top of your thighs and pressing your bodies together. As your hands reached into his hair again, his wrapped around your back and expertly unclasped your bra. You removed it with haste, the softness of your tits finally squished against his chest. He moaned at the warmth of them, and he could feel your nipples stiffening. You gasped for air when he pulled his lips away from yours and brought their attention back to your breasts. His tongue flicked and swirled around your nipples, and they somehow hardened even more. Teasingly, he grazed his teeth along them, and you threw your head back in pleasure. He continued to do this, pushing you lightly for you to lie back on your desk.

The cool surface came as a shock to your skin, but it was forgotten quickly as Steve kissed down your stomach and began to unzip your skirt. He made quick work of pulling it down the length of your legs before kissing his way back up to your lips. His body pressed firmly against yours, and you could feel the shape of his bulge against your heat. The thin material of your panties did little to hide how large he was, even through his jeans. Your fingers fumbled with his belt and buttons, wanting desperately to feel him even more. The movement of your lips was unrelenting, even as the two of you worked together to pull down his boxers and jeans at once.

His cock stood tall and proud - his tip a flaming red and veins bulging along its long length. Your mouth watered at the sight as you grasped him firmly in your hand, feeling how heavy and thick he was. He tried to hide the stutter in his breath, but he knew you had heard it when he saw the smirk on your lips. You pushed him back a touch, just enough for you to slide off of the table and kneel before him. Before he could protest, you had sucked his tip into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you began bobbing your head. He released a string of curses as you rolled your tongue over his veins and swirled it around the head of his cock.

He tangled his fingers in your hair and began guiding you further down on his cock, trying his best to refrain from fucking your throat. "Fuck, I bet you've been dreaming about this, huh? My cock sliding down your throat, making me feel so good. Such a good girl for me."

You moaned around his cock in agreement.

"Bet you didn't think I knew about that." He moved your head faster along his cock, angling your head so that you could look up at him. "I see the way you look at me in class. Eye-fucking me with those pretty little eyes of yours. God, it always made me so hard just wondering what you were doing to me in that head of yours."

"Think I don't know too?" You challenged, taking him in your hand and slowly stroking him. "I've seen your grades, Mr Harrington. I know my class is the only one you excel in."

"Touché." He smirked, shoving his cock back into your mouth to shut you up.

His hips stuttered a thrust and accidently jabbed his cock at the back of your throat. You gagged slightly, then swallowed around his length causing his voice to crack through a moan. He thrust again and you gagged once more.

"Relax your throat for me, baby."

You did as you were told and he fully slid his cock all the way down your throat. "Thats it. Atta girl."

Your face went red from lack of oxygen, and you gasped aloud when he slid back out. You didn't get much time to catch your breath before he rammed himself back in, nuzzling your nose into the sparse hair on his pubic bone. He held himself longer, placing one hand on the back of your head and wrapping the other around your neck to feel his bulge in your throat. You tried your best to keep him in, but he was really testing your limits, and you had to tap out. He moaned when his hand felt his length moving inside of your neck as he pulled out. He did it again a few more times before properly starting to fuck your throat, thrusting in and out and letting you gag and choke on his dick.

Once he'd had his fun, he reluctantly pulled you off him and you already missed the weight of him on your tongue. You took him into your hand again, your spit making your palm slide up and down with ease. Steve didn't think you had looked more beautiful than you did now: Hair in tangles from his fingers, mascara tears down your cheeks and your lips swollen and flushed red with a string of saliva still attaching them to his cock.

He took his thumbs and swiped them under your eyes to wipe away your tears before running them over your lips. "Tongue out."

You opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue, expecting him to start fucking your throat again. But instead he leaned down and slowly let a string of spit stream down from his mouth and pool onto your tongue. You wouldn't be surprised if you were dripping through your panties and onto the carpet right now.

"Swallow." You did so willingly, revelling in the peppermint taste. "Good girl."

He pulled you back standing up, and you ignored the ache in your knees. His hand cupped your backside and lifted you back onto your desk as he kissed your swollen lips. He bit your lip before his tongue intruded your mouth. You moaned into his mouth as he sucked gently on your tongue before swirling it around his, collecting as much saliva as he could to transfer to you. All while doing this, he sneakily relocated his gum into your mouth. You began chewing as he pulled away. It was the sexiest thing he ever had seen.

Using the back of your knees, he pulled you to the edge of the table and took his turn of kneeling in front of you. He kissed along the hem of your baby blue, cotton panties trying not to laugh at how you had miss-matched them with your black, lacy bra. He took his time pulling them down your legs - the way a string of your juices connected to the gusset of your panties was very appetising indeed. He placed the soles of your feet on his shoulders so your legs bent at the knees and wasted no time delving in. You moaned rather loudly at the sudden pleasure and had to cover your mouth in case any other teachers or janitors had decided to stay late. Steve, on the other hand, had no worries about his volume as he slurped and moaned against your cunt, relshing and savouring your taste - lapping you up like he had been deprived of any sustenance his entire life. You couldn't have held back the moan of his name if you'd tried. You legs shook at the torturous pace of his tongue as it swiped back and forth along your clit before he suckled it between his lips. Your back arched in pleasure and pain as you began to feel the tingling burn from the mint on his tongue. But it all added to the pleasure as your climax approached rather quickly.

"Steve," You whimpered, trying to pull him from you, "I wanna cum on your cock."

His head perked up at that, giving your clit one last kiss before situating himself between your legs. He wrapped them around his waist while sliding the head of his aching cock along your sopping folds. He kissed you again, this time soft and slow, almost romantic. His tip nudged along your slit as you fisted his hair, anticipating his penetration.

He sunk into you deeply and with ease. Your tight heat being stretched by his girth brought moans out of both of you. The pleasure was intoxicating. Your fingers pulled at Steve's hair when he began to thrust. His hips rocked gently, not pulling out too far to let you adjust to his size. He noticed the goose bumps prickle your skin and how your naked chest rose and fell at a gradually increasing pace. It wasn't long before you were begging him to go harder, and he was soon pounding into you, forcing you to take every last inch of his cock. You bit your lip to refrain from being too loud as the blunt shape of his head rammed against that delicious spot deep within you. But you couldn't help yourself from moaning his name, to which Steve had no problem with, loving the idea of everyone and anyone knowing it was him who made you feel this way. He begin nipping at your neck, this time neither of you caring about the marks he would leave. As he did this, he trailed his fingertips down the length of your body, giving your nipples a playful pinch along the way, before finding home on your clit. He rubbed with the perfect amount of pressure and in consistent circles, spreading your slick everywhere. You dug your heels into his back, pleading him to be closer to you as if he wasn't already inside of you. Your climax was fast approaching, but your moans died from your lips as he pulled out rather abruptly.

You could have cried at the loss, but he was tugging you off of the table and bending you over it so your entire front rested against its cool surface. You practically yelped when he slammed himself inside of her again. The new position allowed him to hit her sweet spot at the perfect angle and so much deeper than before. The room was filled with moans, pants, and wet slick sound from your dripping hole - if anyone was in the building, they were sure to know what was happening very quickly. Steve bent himself over you, but not before bringing a hand down on your ass. The loud smack and sudden sting left you breathless. He pressed his chest to your back so you were sandwiched between him and the table as he continued rocking his hips at a brash pace. His whimpers and heavy breathing were now directly in your ear and made you impossibly wetter. Steve could feel this as he ground himself against your ass, his cock gliding in and out with no restriction at all. You practically went limp as he drove into you, letting him use you as he pleased.

"How many times have you thought about me doing this to you? How many times have you touched yourself to the thought of me fucking you?" He breathed onto the shell of your ear.

"Every time." You whimpered pitifully.

All of a sudden, his hand wrapped around your throat and pulled you up so the two of you were standing. He rejoiced in the clapping of his hips against your ass, knowing he was being completely ruthless and finally fulfilling your fantasies. He felt so deep inside of you now that you would be surprised if he wasn't in your stomach. He used your throat as leverage to rag you down onto his cock, using his thrusts to meet you halfway. The edge of the table cut into your hips, but the mix of pleasure and pain only brought you closer to the edge.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?"

You whimpered a 'yes' as best as you could and he somehow thrust even faster into you. Heat swirled like a fire deep in your gut before exploding like a firework. You let out the loudest, most pornographic moan Steve had ever heard that he had to cover your mouth with his hand to keep you quiet. Your entire body was trembling in his grasp, and he worried for a second that he might have broken you. He let you relax on the table to catch your breath, still keeping himself sheathed in your warmth. He stroked your hair out of your face and kissed at your clammy back as you calmed down.

"Atta girl. You did so well for me." You mewled a pathetic, 'thank you'. "But I'm not done with you yet."

You let out a cry when he pulled out of you, leaving you feel empty as your release began dribbling down your thighs. He guided you to his usual seat at the front of the class and sat down, patting his thighs for you to take a seat. You did so with wobbling legs, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. He placed wet kisses to your lips, and each one echoed a wet smack.

"I want you to ride me, baby." He requested softly, kissing you between every other word. "You think you can do that for me?"

You nodded, even though you didn't think you actually had the strength to do so. You were just so desperate for him to be back inside of you, and so was Steve. You lined him up with your entrance before slowly easing him in. Your pussy sucked him in greedily, welcoming the intrusion. Your legs shook as you began to raise and lower yourself onto him, slamming your body down harshly. Steve's hands found themselves on your hips, using them to yank your cunt down on his cock. Steve couldn't believe what he was seeing. He wanted so badly to see you ride him, having imagined it every time he fisted his leaking cock in his room at night, and prayed that this wouldn't be the only time you would do so. Everything about you was gorgeous. He loved the way your tits jiggled with every bounce and how you threw your head back in ecstasy. He loved the feeling of your nails raking against the pale flesh of his shoulders as you used them to haul yourself up and down. It was an image that he was sure would never leave his mind.

"I want you to picture this every time you're in class." His voice scratched an itch in your brain. "Every time you sit at your desk, every time you see me sat here in class, I want you to remember how well I fucked you. I want you to remember how good I made you feel with my cock." You whimpered. "You think you can do that?"

This moment wasn't leaving you any time soon. You would have remembered it, even if he hadn't asked you to. This was something you would be using to get yourself off for a long time. You nodded wildly at his question, gasping as you continued to ride him.

But your stamina had drained very quickly, not having the strength to bounce as quickly as you would've liked to. Steve slapped your ass cheeks rather roughly before grabbing them in his palms, using them the guide you along his cock. This time, instead of going up and down, he allowed you to grind on him, rocking your hips back and forth. The two of you moaned at the feeling. Your overly sensitive clit rubbed along his pubic bone in a way that almost had you crying. You couldn't believe you were nearing your second orgasm, and Steve hadn't even had one yet. You tried to hold back as long as you could but the pleasure was too great and you spasmed on his cock once more. Your whole body shook above him and you cried into his shoulder. He groaned as your walls squeezed and pulsated around his cock, continuing to milk him even though you had stopped moving.

"Keep going, baby. I know you can do it." He praised. "I'm so close."

You forced yourself to rock back and forth again, keeping your head tucked into his shoulder and sucking a hickey where it meets his neck. You weren't going nearly as fast as before, but Steve understood that you were probably drained. Because of this, he grabbed your ass again and lifted you to sit on his desk. Your quivering legs finally had a place to rest around his waist, but it wasn't long before he was pounding into you again, just as he had done on your own desk. You whimpered and moaned and groaned from his cock pistoning in and out of you, dragging along your g spot which had swelled with arousal. You all but cried when he reached a hand down to attack your clit, spreading your slick around the nub with an extreme velocity. You had tears running down your cheeks, but you still continued to grind your hips upwards to meet with Steve's thrusts. You knew he wasn't going to let up until you came once more, but his hips were stuttering and starting to lose their rhythm. With a final loud groan, he sheathed himself entirely inside of you and freely released his load. Your sensitive walls could feel every twitch of his cock and every rope of cum spraying against them as he stuffed you full.

The two of you panted against each other, foreheads resting together and bodies still connected. Steve slowly pulled out of you before he became completely soft and you gasped at the sudden loss. You squeezed your walls together in a desperate attempt to keep every last drop of him inside of you.

"You think you can give me one more?"

No. You wanted to say. Your body needed a break, but your cunt was still aching for another release. So, stupidly, you nodded your head. He smiled at you before diverting his eyes to your wrecked cunt. He used his long fingers to collect the little amount of his seed that had seeped out and stuffed it straight back inside of you. He moaned when his fingers felt how wet and warm you were, curling them upwards to hit your sweet spot. You cried out when he started jamming his fingers into you rapidly. First with two, and then adding a third to stretch your walls the way his cock had just moments ago. He continued his unrelenting pace as he bowed down to suck your clit into his mouth. Your hands tried their hardest to push him away and you began squirming about on the desk. It was too much, what on earth were you thinking. But you were getting closer, despite how raw and painful your clit had become. The coil was becoming tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. You released your loudest moan yet and Steve freed your clit from his eager mouth. He did, however, keep his fingers moving inside you, only to force his cum back inside you that you had pushed out by the force of your release. You gripped his wrist, pleading him to stop and he finally let your pussy have a break. He brought his fingers into view, admiring the mix of your juices that had creamed on his digits. You stared at them hungrily and Steve pressed them to your lips. You parted your lips gladly and indulged in his fingers. You sucked them just as you had his cock, moaning at the sweet and salt on your taste buds. He released them from your mouth with a pop once you had thoroughly cleaned them.

Aware of your quivering legs, he left you seated on the desk as he gathered your clothes for you and helped you get dressed. He started with your panties as you clasped your bra. He slowly pulled them up your legs, kissing the soft skin as he went. He pulled them up high on your waist, hoping to keep whatever remained of his cum inside of you. He did the same with your skirt while you buttoned up your blouse and raked your fingers through your hair to flatten it out. You then watched in silence as he changed himself.

"You need a ride?" He asked, sliding his belt through the loops of his jeans.

You did, in fact. After glancing at the clock on the wall, you realised that you had missed the last bus, and you were too embarrassed to tell him that you couldn't drive. You accepted his offer gratefully, and he helped you down from off the desk. Your legs still wobbled beneath you, but you had gathered enough strength to walk with Steve supporting you with his arm around your waist. You turned back to look at your classroom before you turned the lights off. You would come in early tomorrow to clean it before anyone questioned why your classroom was left in the state that it was in.

"Wait!" Steve stopped you abruptly before you could shut your classroom door. "You have something of mine."

"I do?"

He smirked, nodding his head as he brought it closer to yours. His lips pressed to yours in your final kiss of the night. They pressed to yours lightly, clasping your bottom lip between them gently. The smooth muscle of his tongue parted your lips and slipped into your mouth. You tried your best not to moan when he rested a hand at the back of your head to pull you closer, knowing that it would echo much louder in the empty hall. His tongue grew more aggressive as it explored your mouth. You couldn't decide whether he was looking for something in there or trying to commit it to memory. But then he scooped up his gum from your mouth and brought it back to his, pulling away from you with one more smack of your lips. The way his eyes lingered on your lips, you thought that perhaps it was both. He began chewing again, giving you a cheeky wink before wrapping his arms around you once more.

You were grateful that the halls were empty as you and Steve made your way to his car.

"So," Steve started, "You think I'm gonna ace my final?"

"Oh, most definitely."

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve stranger things #stranger things #joe keery #steve harrington x teacher!reader #eddie munson smut

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whoahoney · 1 year

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The Big Bad Day

Steve Harrington x teacher!Reader

Summary: You’re a new teacher and your year has been hard, this day in particular, and your boyfriend Steve knows just what to say.

Content Warnings: children are dicks, hurt/comfort, mature language

A/N: for all of us that need to cry in Steve’s arms just for a little bit 🤍 requested by my dear @loving-and-dreaming

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You had had enough.

You were no stranger to difficulty or bad days, but this one would go down in the books.

Ever since you got the teaching position at Hawkins Elementary, you’d been optimistic about your days spent with the future of the world, teaching them their order of operations and proper sentence structure, eagerly imagining the books you’d read with the class and what crafts to make to decorate the door for each season and occasion.

But when it came down to it, it felt most days like they saw you as another child. Lessons were filled with thrown pencils, students getting up out of their seats to move around and bother their friends, as if you weren’t there, homework going without being filled out, literal 8 year old boys heckling you during your lectures,

And as if that wasn’t enough, your colleagues seemed no different. You were easily the youngest teacher there and staff meetings and lunch breaks were spent feeling invisible behind your coffee mug, no matter how many thoughts you tried to contribute. They always seemed to silence your words before they could manage their way out of your mouth.

Today, things amped up.

Richie Timmons incited a riot.

A full on riot.

The assignment was making paper snowflakes. You’d given a wonderful tutorial on how to fold and cut the snowflakes, you’d shown them the special glitter glue you’d bought with your own money, and passing out supplies seemed to go well and then they just… ruined it.

Richie decided today he’d crumple up the center pieces for their desk clumps you’d worked so hard on and start a snowball fight, leading everyone to use any and all paper to their disposal.

You’d tried to stop it, everyone throwing them at the quietest kid in the class first, but then their attention turned to you, and not in the way you wanted. Suddenly all the paper wads were smacking you in the face, with impressive aim and power, you noted.

Not to mention the pencils, crayons, and eventually scissors that flew about the room, causing you to lose your cool.

And to top it off, the wicked witch of the west hall shows up to the staff meeting talking about hearing it all from the other side of the school.

This earned you so many dirty looks from your peers, not to mention the principal. Your cheeks heated as you stared into the bread of your sandwich so lovingly prepared by your boyfriend, wanting nothing more than to melt into the floor and disappear.

You wanted to quit.

But what about Sarah H and her cursive? She’s almost got it!

Or Corey B and his separation anxiety from his mom? He’s shown some real courage lately, and another change in his routine could just mess it all up.

You laid in bed that night waiting for your boyfriend to come home to your newly shared place, trying to get the tears out before he showed up.

But they wouldn’t come.

Your body wouldn’t allow it. You felt it, so strongly, the urge and pressure to burst into tears, but the cries were buried deep in your chest, not allowed to erupt for whatever reason. Instead, you curled up on your side of the bed with a massive tension headache.

Right as you thought you might fade into restless sleep, the front door clicked open and your heart leapt.

Steve’s home.

He worked late a couple evenings a week, tonight being one of them. As you heard him drop his keys onto the counter and shrug off his jacket, you weighed the options of talking to him about it all or pretending to be asleep to not bother him.

But then the bedroom door creaked quietly, clicking closed behind him. Steve had mastered the art of walking silently, practically floating across the floor as he whispered hopefully, “Are you awake?” He reached out to touch your shoulder, his fingertips grazing it before you turned over to face him.

Of course he looked this beautiful, he always did. But why did he have to look at you like that? Like you were special, like he longed for you though he already had you.

The sight alone made the dam you spent your whole day building crumble. With your brows knit together and a pout on your lips, his face melted into concern as he scrambled into bed, pulling your pliant body to him and wrapping you up in an embrace.

“Sweet girl, what’s wrong? What happened?” He whispered just above your ear. You felt your hands against his bare chest, the contact soothing you some. His hand found its way into your hair, his fingertips stroking your scalp as you heaved and sobbed. “I got you, it’s okay, I’m here.” He said intermittently.

When you found yourself blurry eyed and stuffy, and your sobs had ceased, you found yourself laying with your head on Steve’s chest. His hand stroked up and down your back while the other kept your hair from falling in your face.

After giving you a few regular breaths of quiet, he wrapped his arms back around you, “Do you wanna talk about it, baby?”

“My dream job sucks.” You sniffled against his warm skin. “And I suck at it.” You whispered.

“What??” Steve craned his neck to look her in the eye.

“No one respects me. Ever! Not even the other teachers. It’s embarrassing, everyone else has great classes and cute artwork they’ve gotten their kids to collaborate on, but when it comes to 8 year olds?” You shook her head, “I’m hopeless. I chose the wrong career path.” You shrugged.

“That’s so not true, are you kidding? You’re kidding, right?” He asked, searching for the light ‘just kidding’ after your usual self deprecating jokes. But it didn’t come.

“Maybe I’m just not cut out for it.” You shrug, sliding off his chest and situating yourself on your side, his hand reaching out to hold yours.

“Babe, I’m sorry, but I don’t think you could be more wrong.” He sighed, his finger coming up to trace your cheekbone.

You closed your eyes in avoidance, you’d already made up your mind. “There’s a little boy being bullied in my class. He’s shy, smart as a whip, though. But today we were making snowflakes—” Steve smiled, remembering you sitting at the dining table, meticulously folding and cutting paper while he cooked your dinner, “—and Richie,” Steve rolled his eyes at the mention of the kids name, “just got all these kids to gang up on him! And me! Can you believe that? And it took forever it felt like, to get everyone to stop throwing shit, and yelling. Thankfully, he came out unscathed, but—“ your breath caught, “he’s gonna remember that forever. He may not want to come to school tomorrow. And it’s my fault. I’m the freaking teacher and I can’t get them to— I’m a freaking joke, Steve.”

“—You are not a joke!” He said without hesitance, his tone laced with offense taken from your words. You froze. “Do you.. do you not see how much time to spend putting lessons together? Or hear how much you talk about your kids? How much you care? You love your job. Your job is just hard and overwhelming, and you’re new at it! It’s gonna be really hard for a few years, don’t you think? But once you settle, things are gonna get so much better.” He nodded as he spoke softly, just above a whisper in the quiet apartment.

“The year’s halfway over,” he continued, “If you hate it by the end of the year, then quit! Find somewhere else, and we’ll go, but don’t quit now.” He pleaded.

The tears pouring from your eyes were steady and quiet, his message received as he ran his thumb over your cheek. You nodded. “You’d come with me?” You asked.

He nodded, “Of course I would. I’ll go wherever you are. And wherever we end up, I’m gonna come visit you in your classroom. And I’m gonna bring you lunch and flowers, and someday your kids are gonna have to start calling you Mrs. Harrington, instead.”

You sniffle and chuckle airily at the thought. “It’s all gonna be okay. And if you decide you don’t wanna teach and do something else, I’m more than happy to cheer you on in your next venture. No matter what.” He implored.

You nodded as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “I want you to sleep. Okay? And tomorrow you’re gonna go to school, and try again. Because that’s what you do. And I’ll be here when you get home waiting to hear all about it, yeah?”

You nodded, tears filling your eyes once more.

“And if you need to, call me at lunch. Okay? My whole day’s open, I’ll be home.” He nodded, “You aren’t alone. And you aren’t the worst. If anything, I think you’re the best. The greatest! Y’know if you were my teacher in fourth grade I would’ve been so happy to listen to you.” He traced around your brow and down to your cheekbone, ending at the tip of your nose as you chuckled. He wiped your tears away.

“S’gonna be okay, baby.” He whispered.

You nodded. “Thank you, Stevie. I love you, so so much.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his lips.

“I love you more. Tomorrow’s gonna be better.” He assured you, pulling you close again and holding you until you fell asleep in his arms.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

As you wait for the call to go through on your lunch break, you hear a knock at your classroom door, making you jump and hang up the phone. You smooth your hair and open the door, only to find Steve standing there with his brightest smile, a vase of daisies in one hand and lunch in the other.

“There’s my girl! How’s your day?” He asked before kissing your cheek and stepping inside.

Taglist darlings 💖

@loving-and-dreaming @newshade

#steve harrington comfort #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x teacher!reader #teacher!reader #boyfriend!steve harrington #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington requests #Steve Harrington x fem!reader

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lesservillain · 4 months

Text

alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader

cw: omegaverse dynamics, knotting, bonding/marking, breeding kink, unprotected piv, semi public, mutual pining

wc:~5.7k

Music plays at a low hum from the small radio at your desk. The only station that comes in clear has been taken over by Christmas music since Thanksgiving break. Not even Wham!’’s Last Christmas was giving the same sense of relief after hearing it every day for almost a month now.

Despite the winter wonderland outside, you still seek out the coolness of your water bottle against your skin, the chill helping to ease the flush that’s been making you sweat like it was mid July in Texas. You’d even cracked the window behind your desk in hopes that the fallen snow would help with your elevated body temperature. But you knew that all of your efforts were for nothing. That no matter how cold you made it, there was really only one thing that would actually be able to ease the discomfort that you felt spreading under your skin; the burden of being an omega in this world.

Ever since you split with your ex this past spring you’ve been having to deal with your heats on your own. It's not impossible for an omega to go through heats without an alpha to ease the pain, but when you go cold turkey after years of having someone there to satisfy the overwhelming biological need to mate, it can take a huge toll on any omega.

Science has made leaps and bounds over the last 20 years to improve suppressants for both alphas and omegas. They’re not perfect by any means, but they’re better than dealing with the intense urges that you feel when that time of the month comes.

The current suppressants you're taking are…experimental. Mixed with a birth control that’s supposed to be able to stop even the swimmers of an alpha in rut from reaching an egg of an omega they’ve marked. They were suggested by your doctor as a preventative, since omegas after losing their long alpha tend to subconsciously scent to seek out a replacement.

And they worked really well the first few months, not having a heat for nearly half a year. But the added stress of moving to a new town on your own and starting a new job where you were constantly playing catch up after inheriting a mess from the school’s previous nurse, your heat came back full swing within the first month of the school year. The dizziness, increased appetite, a dull ache in your lower back, and hot flashes put you out for three days before you could get a suppressant strong enough to make you functional again.

Now you’re having your winter heat, which, so far, has been much tamer by comparison thanks to the increased dose of your medication. But the combination of your heat with the influx of students seeing you due to peak flu and strep season, your body has been practically screaming at you by the end of each day this week to go home and relax.

The sudden overzealous opening of your office door takes your attention off your sweltering body. The all too familiar voice of Mr. Harrington calls out “Helloooo, nurse!” as he occupies the space in the doorway.

Steve Harrington was one of the school’s sophomore history teachers, as well as the football and basketball coach and the leader of the Student Achievement program. All of the staff, and probably some of the students, swoon over him at any given moment, his presence never missed due to the air that surrounds him. Unfortunately you’re not immune to his charms either. In fact, the natural attraction between the two of you was palpable at times, regardless of how much you try to ignore it.

Steve could feel it, too. And maybe it was the way his alpha brain was wired, but his flirty personality is jacked up to 10 whenever you’re around. It’s not on purpose, at least not in a conscious way. His amazing hair, the way his clothes hugged his toned body, and his almost unnaturally handsome face made him the poster child for the perfect alpha partner.

Well, perfect except for the fact that he’s the clumsiest man you’ve ever met in your life, leaving your office at least once a week with a Strawberry Shortcake bandaid after giving himself a paper cut or an ice pack on his head when a ball hits him in the face.

Despite his accident-prone nature, Steve is a highly desired, single alpha in his prime. And with you being the only unclaimed adult omega in the building, it’s put a huge target on your back for your jealous coworkers who think they have a shot with him. To remedy this, you’ve maintained a firm level of professionalism and platonic friendliness at all times with him, despite his flirty personality testing your willpower.

His intoxicating scent invades your senses sending a wave of warmth to wash over you before you can even give him a quick glance. You pull at the collar of your blouse willing the air to cool down your shirt. “You feeling okay there, nurse? You look a little flushed. Or are you just that happy to see me?”

“Mr.Harrington,” you say flatly, following with teasing sarcasm as you continue looking over your paperwork, “I was starting to worry you weren’t going to see me this week. Thought you’d finally broken your streak of bad luck.” He lets out an airy chuckle that makes the sides of your lips threaten to curl.

“Oh, honey, you know I can’t stay away from you.” He means it. He would fake appendicitis if it gave him a greater chance to be doted on by you. To get closer to you. “I would have been in here sooner if I hadn’t been glued to my desk all week getting grades in before break,” he says, voicing his grievances that were the result of his own negligence.

“I see,” you hum, continuing with the sarcastic tone. “I guess I won’t have to replenish my box of bandaids just yet.”

“Weelll,” he draws out, “All that sitting time must have built up my bad luck, because, uh, I think this one may need more than just a bandaid.”

When you finally lift your eyes from your desk, they almost bulge out of their sockets at the sight of him. Where you initially thought his arms were just crossed, you see his right hand is actually covering his left bicep, blood staining down the sleeve of his light and navy blue striped dress shirt. The lack of urgency in his tone had you thinking nothing was wrong, but of course Steve Harrington would find the time to flirt with you while he’s bleeding.

Tossing your water bottle on the desk and jumping up from your seat, you practically fly across the room to assess the damage, pulling his hand away to find a tear in the sleeve and blood spread messily on his skin underneath.

“Oh my goodness, what happened?” You ask with concern, pulling him into the office by the hand and leading him to a cot, shutting the door behind you.

“Mrs.Harmon asked if I could stay and help set up stuff around the auditorium for the choir performance tonight,” he explained as you pulled at the material of his sleeve, trying and failing and get a better look at the wound, “and I accidentally knocked a shelf off the wall while trying to get the decorations out. I moved fast enough that it didn’t crush me, but it did knick me a little.”

“A little! Mr.Harrington—” you start with a stern tone, preparing your normal lecture to him about being safe.

“Steve,” he corrects with a smug grin, insisting that you call him by his first name since you’ve met.

“Mr.Harrington,” you repeat like a warning, trying to remain professional when he’s so close to you. It’s hard when he’s staring at your face with those big hazel eyes as he watches your face scrunch in frustration while you fiddle with his shirt. A shirt that’s straining to stay together around his large bicep, leaving no give for you to get a better look at his wound.

Losing your will to argue with him, your hands rest to your hips with a sigh. “Can you, just, slip your arm out of the sleeve, please?”

“Of course,” he says with faux seriousness as you can see his all too satisfied smile, rolling your eyes at him.

Turning on your heel, you walk a few feet to grab the things from the supply cabinet to treat his wound. Your back is turned to him as you fill your arms with gauze, tape, cotton balls, and anything else you may need for a cut that large.

“You know, you’re probably the clumsiest alpha I’ve ever met,” you tease as you turn to face him again, “Sometimes I think you get hurt on purpose just to see m—“

The rest of your remark dies on your tongue as your mouth goes dry. Taking liberties with your request, you watch Mr.Harrington completely remove his shirt, dropping it on the cot behind him and facing you once more. The white under tank he’s wearing leaves little to the imagination as it hugs his broad chest tightly, thinning the material and making it almost see through. His skin still has the last lingering tint of the tan he was sporting on the first day of school, and different sized freckles and moles decorate his body like constellations in the sky. You’ve never seen so much of him all at once, head feeling fuzzy as you drink him in.

“I think you might be drooling a bit there, Ms. Nurse,” he says pointing to the corner of his own mouth to further his teasing. But you can barely hear him, the words muffled as your ears start to ring and your vision tilts as if you’d been drinking. The boil you’d been dealing with all day felt like a slight shimmer as your fever suddenly spikes, your body on fire as the scent coming from his newly exposed skin has you reeling.

The supplies you’re holding dropped to the floor, freeing your hands to grasp at the counter behind you. Steve rushes to your side, wrapping an arm around you and easing you to the ground. He barely makes it without dropping to his knees himself, the smell of your pheromones hitting him like a brick.

“H-hey, what do you need,” you hear him ask, but you can hardly register the words as his scent in close proximity only spurs your heat on more. Even with your clothes covering your skin, the touch of his hand on your waist and the one he’s rested on your knee make you crave more of him in a carnal way, the urgent need to close the gap between the two of you has your body shifting until you’re on your knees and crawling towards him.

His hands hover in the air, slightly trembling as you lean into him. He falls back on his ass as you get closer until you’re practically laying on him, rubbing against him with your face like a cat. “I need you, Steve,” you purr. He takes a sharp breath in through gritted teeth as your hand drifts lower, lower, until your fingers land on the very prominent bulge straining against his deep blue slacks. “Shit,” his head snaps back at the contact, before dropping back down to look at you with hungry eyes.

“What happened to keeping it professional?” He tries to joke, unsure if this is all just a test from the universe to see how he would react to having his nightly fantasies come true. And while Steve may be resilient in many ways, he wasn’t sure if he could hold back with the way you’re looking up at him through your lashes as if he’d hung the moon and the stars. The scent of his musk permeates the room as he gives into your needs, his desires, letting the primal urges he’s been pushing down since the day he met you front in his mind.

If you were in a different state of mind you probably would have laughed at his comment. But the intense ache that bloomed between your legs as all your senses start to leave your body has you whimpering against his chest.

Strong arms scoop you up swiftly, tossing you down on the cot and pulling the privacy curtain behind him. In the split second he was away from you, you managed to grab his discarded shirt and pull it to your nose, inhaling his lingering scent. It was like a drug that you couldn’t get enough of, your thighs rubbing together and hips moving against air as your body seeks out any kind of relief for the ache.

Suddenly, the shirt is torn from your grasp roughly. You cry out, hands reaching out aimlessly before they’re being grasped tightly around the wrists and pinned to the bed. The cot dips as a weight wedges its way between your legs, pressing against your core in a way that has you instantly bucking against it with reckless abandon, your clouded mind only thinking about satisfying the throb in your core.

“God, look at the mess you’re making on my thigh already,” Steve says with a low growl, watching you use him in a pathetic attempt to relieve yourself. The grit in his voice hits every nerve in your body on its way from your ear drums to your cunt.

“You smell so fucking sweet,” he groans as he brings your wrist to his nose and inhales, “Like vanilla or honey, o-or something better,” he stammers. He leans over you, hot tongue licking a thick stripe from your collar bone to behind your ear, lightly biting the lobe and pulling, goosebumps rising on your skin. His hair is just as soft as you imagined it would be as it tickles your cheek, a sharp contrast to the way his teeth bite at your neck, his tongue soothing over the skin.

You press your cheek into him, whining his name right into his ear, practically begging him to put you out of your misery. He releases one of your hands to grab your face, lips pursing together, making you look him in the eyes. His pupils fully blown out and close enough that you can see your own fucked out reflection in them.

“Listen to me,” he says, swallowing, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. “I’ve been wanting to do this for five fucking months. Five long months of fucking my fist to the thought of getting you under me just like this, making you a mess and having you beg for me.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, nostrils flaring as the last bit of his resolve begins to waver. “So if we do this, you’re mine from now on, got it? No more of this back and forth, pretending you don’t want me as much as I want you bullshit. Once I start…I’m not going to be able to stop. Do you understand?”

There’s no hesitation with how quickly you try to nod your head against his grip. The heat coming off of your cheeks warms the tips of his fingers. “Nuh-uh,” he tuts, giving you a little shake, “Need to hear it. Tell me you want this.”

“Want you, Steve. Need you. Need your cock, please, please please.”

He curses under his breath before his lips crash into yours. The kiss is hot and heavy right off the bat as teeth clash and tongues dance together in desperation. Your free hand finds its way into his perfect hair, pulling slightly at the nape, eliciting a moan from him that you catch as it leaves his lips.

Steve pulls away from you with a wild look in his eyes. Both of his strong hands release their hold on you so that he could rip open the front of your blouse, sending buttons flying and hitting the floor with a clatter. His mouth is back on you, nipping and biting the skin while his hands pull your tits free from the cups of your bra.

Mouth moving at lightning speed, he hungrily takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and tonguing the bud while needing at your other breast with his hand. His eyes are glassy when they look up at you, half lidded and unfocused, drool dribbles down your breast from his mouth.

Everything next happens so quickly you can barely register it. Steve pulls away from you completely, standing up fully to rip your pants down your legs. Once he throws them to the floor, he’s making quick movements to undo his own pants, his right thigh drenched from the slick that had soaked through while grinding against him.

His cock is so hard that the pressure against the crotch of his pants has the zipper undoing itself once he frees the button. Wasting no time, he shucks down his slacks and boxers in one go, his large cock and heavy balls now on full display for you, the sight making your eyes widen in surprise—and maybe fear?

Alphas are known to be bigger than even a well endowed beta, and omegas are built to handle the size of an alpha’s better than a beta can, but the size of the Steve’s cock less than a foot from your face has you mesmerized at the sheer size of it. But while your mind may be in shock, your pussy has a mind of its own, slick dripping in anticipation for the stretch you’d be receiving. Even in his large hands it looked massive, bigger than any alpha you’d been with before.

You sit up in the bed slightly, reaching out to take him in your hand, your fingers barely able to wrap around him as you stroke the angry red tip. He curses under his breath as you let your hand roll over the tip, feeling the veins against the skin of your palm with each stroke.

A little bead of precum bubbles at the tip and something in your mind snaps. Your mouth is on him in an instant, any sense you may have had left is completely gone out the window when that salty taste hits your tongue.

“Fuck, look at you,” he cooes, followed by a guttural moan at the sight of you trying to take as much of him in your mouth as you can. “Such a good girl. Trying your best to take me in that pretty little mouth of yours, huh?” His words egg you as you continue to suckle at his tip, lapping up any of his spend that leaks out as you keep pumping at his shaft.

You want to keep going, want to be good for him, but ache between your legs is becoming unbearable the longer you go on. Slick is slipping down your thighs, a puddling forming under you on the sheets as your body involuntarily preps itself to take Steve’s massive cock. You look up at him with teary eyes, lifting your ass in the air as a silent plea for him to take you like the bitch in heat that you are.

And as much as he’s loving watching you pitifully mouth his cock, seeing you present yourself for him turns off the evolved parts of his brain, leaving him to run on primal instincts only.

Grabbing you by the throat, he manhandles you onto your back and positions you so your ass on the edge of the cot. Your legs fall to the sides, opening as wide as you can get them, pussy on full display and ready to be taken.

“Hoooooo, fuck,” Steve shudders, licking his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt, hole clenching around nothing, begging for him to fill it up. He runs his fingers through your folds to collect some of your arousal, barely brushing over your throbbing clit. He brings his fingers to his mouth, shoulders slumping in satisfaction.

“Damnit, of course you taste sweet, too. Can’t wait til I can get you in my mouth,” he says with a slight slur.

You panic for a moment, unsure if you could wait any longer for him to finally be inside you. As if he can read you like a book, he lets out a soft chuckle, taking his cock in his hand and pumping it slowly. “Don’t you worry, baby girl, I’m not gonna keep you waiting any more. Next time, though…”

The sticky tip of his cock taps your clit, sending shock waves throughout your body with every touch. It’s too much and not enough all at once. His name falls from your lips, and he shushes you in return, lining himself up with your entrance.

The breach of his tip stretching you wide is like a shot of morphine in an IV drip, your body becoming numb and a live wire at the same time, replacing the pain with a fuzzy haze all over.

Steve watches the way your face contorts with pleasure as hips rock back and forth slowly. His teeth bite down on his bottom lip, trying his hardest to hold back so you can get used to his size, but the vice grip you have on his cock has him quickly losing his resolve. Body falling over you, he brackets your head between his forearms as he finally folds. His breath fanning over your face has your eyes fluttering open. Met with the most divine visual of Steve’s pinched brow, scrunched up nose, and slack jaw fill your vision entirely. Your breath is punched from your lungs as he makes that final thrust, bottoming out inside of you with a shuddered whimper.

“Oh, my god,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, rubbing his face against your skin, marking you with his scent. He begins to move, setting a pace that makes every thrust feel like heaven, the tightness of your walls amplifying every ridge and bump of his cock as it drags back and forth. “Fuck, Steve, you’re so big,” you whine, “Never felt so full be-fore!” The last syllable comes out as a gasp as he thrusts into you hard, spurred on by your words.

His arms wrap around you tightly, laying all of his upper body weight against you to pin you in place so he can fuck into mercilessly. The feeling is mind melting, nonsense words mixed with repeating his name over and over fall from your mouth with each punch of his cock against your cervix. Each thrust hits that spot inside of you dead on, throttling you towards the edge quicker than your mind can handle in your current fucked out state.

“Fuuuuck,” Steve’s voice is strained next to your ear, thrusts slowing as you “Don’t squeeze so tight, baby, I don’t wanna cum yet.”

His words have the opposite effect on you as your whole body trembles beneath him, cumming so hard his cock your vision goes white. Your chest presses into his as your back arches off the mattress, the skin to skin friction against your hardened nipples stimulating you more as he fucks you through your high.

He lifts his head to watch you come undone with a wide eyed, feral look. He’s panting, too, with a string of saliva from his tongue to the skin of your shoulder where he had latched on, the skin red and already speckling with broken blood vessels.

“You’re so pretty when you cum on my cock like that,” he says with heavy breaths, “Wanna see you do it again, and again, and again,” he babbles, leaning in to trail kisses along your jaw, continuing to thrust into you harder and harder, in his own world now. You can only cling to him as he ruts into you, nails scratching down his back. “Gonna fuck you over and over and over until it takes. Big, round belly on full display for everyone to see. You gonna tell everyone Mr.Harrington got you pregnant when you can’t hide it anymore? What will all the other teachers think?”

“Fuck, Steve, please.”

“What is it, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“Want it, Steve. Want your knot.”

“Oh, is that right?”

Suddenly, he pulls away and out of you completely. It’s such a shock to the system you can help but cry out at the loss of him. But the vacancy doesn’t last long, his strong arms lifting and flipping you with ease until you’re face down into the mattress, ass being propped up on shaky legs so he can bottom out in you once more.

This new angle changed everything. A wanton moan feels like it was being pushed out of you as it felt like his cock was in your lungs. One hand grabs a hold of your hip while the other pushes down on the back of your neck, effectively pinning you down so he can pick back up his brutal pace. There was no rhythm to his thrusts, driven purely on animalistic instincts as he chases his own pleasure, using you as a means to get him there.

“You want my knot, huh?” The question is rhetorical, said in the heat of the moment as he feels his peak nearing. “Want me to give you my knot and really knock you up? I’ll ruin you for any other alphas that think they have a chance. Cause you’re mine now, aren’t you, sweet girl? No other alpha’s gonnna fuck you like I can, right?”

“No-no, Steve! Don’t want anyone else! Only want your knot! Please, please!” Your eyes lull as he fucks you stupid, mouth parted open as you drool onto the sheets.

His weight shifts, trailing kisses down your back until he gets to that spot on the back of your neck. A chill runs down your spine as his teeth scrape against the skin over your scent gland. “Well, if that’s the case…Guess you wouldn’t mind if I held you to that, right?”

The primal part of your brain is screaming for him to do it; mark you and make you his, permanently. The logical side fights for dominance, reminding you that you never wanted to be owned by an alpha, which is why you and your ex broke up in the first place. But the way he was making you feel right now had you second guessing all your morals. He hums over you, lips lingering against your skin as he speaks.

Before you could answer, his hips were stilling inside you, the base of his cock swelling as he pumped you full with his spend. It would have been painful if it didn’t trigger the release of oxytocin in your body, making you cum with him. Your legs start to give out, but his hold on you tightens as his spend continues to spill into you., the His body shakes above you, chest heaving as tries to catch his breath.

The two of you take a moment to come down from your highs. The air around you feels electric as the two of you become one, his knot settling within your walls snuggly, the steady stream of Steve’s cum filling you to the brim until you couldn’t possibly take anymore. He rests his head over your scent gland, rubbing his face against it out of comfort while you still emit that sweet, sweet smell.

Everything feels right in the moment, until it’s interrupted by a knock and an intruding aroma. To you, it smells like smokey wood and cinnamon, but to Steve, it’s a threat. The smell of another alpha trying to get near his omega and claim her over him. You can feel his body tense up, breathing picking up in a panic, lips pressing against the skin as his mind races.

“Steve?” You say his name meekly. There’s a short pause between you, a split second before you feel it, his teeth clamping down on your skin. It’s like every nerve in your body lights up all at once. The sensation is powerful it makes you cum again, clamping down on Steve’s still hard cock buried inside of you. The moan he lets out against you is pornographic, teeth still clinging to your skin tightly as his saliva mixes with your body’s natural scent.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” The muffled voice calls from the other side of the door.

“Get the fuck out of here, Eddie!” Steve yells out to the janitor, another alpha that you’d seen in passing, pinching your skin as he does his best to keep his teeth on you. It’s quiet for a moment, and you think that Eddie left until you hear a loud, booming laugh, and a faint “About damn time!” as the new smell starts to dissipate.

Steven feels your body jolt slightly beneath him and refocuses his attention on you. You do it again with an audible snort. At first he thinks you might be crying, guilt creeping in as he’s realized what he’s done to you. But as you get louder, it’s clear that you are actually laughing.

“Was tho funneh?” He asks, drooling down onto your back.

“I don’t know,” you say through fits of giggles. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Thounds like et,” he says, laughing along with you.

“Sorry, I just…wasn’t expecting any of this.” Your body shifts under him, growing uncomfortable in the position you were in. Steve senses this, releasing your skin and licking your wounds so that, with careful maneuvering, he’s able to get both of you comfortably on your sides. He wraps his arms and legs around you, holding you close to his strong chest, eyeing his handiwork of his mark as you rest your head on his arm.

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” he says softly, kissing the back of your head. “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I took things too far…But if I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t regret it.”

It could be the residual high from your heat, or the change in your brain chemistry from his mark, or just the fact that you’ve been pushing down how much you really wanted this with him from the moment your hands touched when you both went for the same bagel at the first staff meeting over the summer, but you couldn’t deny that you didn’t regret it either.

For so long you’ve been in denial, trying to ignore that he was the reason your suppressants stopped working because you wanted him so badly that your body was rejecting them when he was around. Denying how happy you get when he brings you coffee in the morning, or how much you look forward to when he sits with you during his lunch period to talk about whatever shenanigans his multitude of friends get into, or how the whole reason you started this heat was because he let you sit in the passenger seat of his BMW while he jumped your car after work on Tuesday, the inside smelling so overwhelmingly like him that you had to jump out and rush straight to your car before you ended up jumping him in the middle of the parking lot.

“Steve?” You request his attention just above a whisper, breaking the silence between you. He hums quizzically, resting his cheek against yours. “Did you really need to grade papers this week, or have you been avoiding me this week because you knew I was going through a heat?”

His cheek vibrates against yours as he chuckles from his throat. “You’re so smart, you know that, right?” He kisses your cheek before settling back with his head on the pillow, forehead resting against the back of your head.

As the two of you lay there you ask him a million questions, picking his brain to its fullest extent with this new closeness the two of you share. Really, you just like the sound of his voice, but he does say a few things here and there that make you belly laugh.

“Don’t do that,” he laughs along with you, “We’re never going to come undone if you keep squeezing me like that!”

“I can’t help it,” you wipe a tear from your eye, trying your hardest to suppress your giggles.

Thirty minutes pass and Steve’s knot finally goes down enough that he can pull out of you. It feels like a part of you is missing now that he’s no longer occupying you after so long. Hot, sticky cum pours from you like a storm drain onto the sheet below. With a sigh, you make a mental note to add new sheets on your list of things to replace, right under a new box of bandaids.

Oh, shit. Steve’s arm.

As he starts to gather the discarded clothes on the floor, you see that that blood has dried up and mostly rubbed off after everything. After the two of you redress, you wearing Steve’s button up after he made your blouse no longer wearable, not that you were complaining as the need to nest was starting to kick in, you cared for his wound. Just a cut left behind that would be okay with a little disinfecting and a few steristrips.

“You forgot the most important part,” he says with a shake of his head as you place the last strip on his arm. You tilt your head at him in confusion, a smile forming on his face as he looks at you with a sparkle in his eyes. “Aren’t you gonna kiss it better?”

#steve harrington #alpha!steve harrington #alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fan fic #steve harrington stranger things #teacher!steve harrington #teacher!steve harrington x nurse!reader

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oneforthemunny · 6 months

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santa claus is comin' to town |janitor!eddie munson x teacher!reader|

prompt: oliver's first christmas with you and eddie, since the adoption, is off to a not so great start. luckily, eddie knows exactly how to make both your spirits bright <3

read the entire janitor!eddie and teacher!reader series here!

contains: parents eddie and reader. oliver is adopted by you and eddie. past talk of parent trauma and neglect. a little angsty, a lot fluffy <3

“Ollie, look,” You nodded, pulling the young boy’s attention to the center of the mall, right outside the food court, settled in mounds of fake snow and twinkling snowflake lights was Santa’s Village. Children of all ages jumped with excitement, giddy at the chance to tell the man at the end perched on a red velvet throne, what they desperately wanted for Christmas. Their parents handing over wads of cash for a photo, a framed memory they could cherish for years.

This was the first year you and Eddie would get the chance.

“Do you want to go see Santa?” You asked, grinning down at him with a smile so bright, it rivaled the lights around you.

Oliver didn’t match your excitement. Instead he looked over solemnly, head shaking in a sad bob that had your stomach plummeting. “No, ‘s okay.” Oliver shrugged.

You blinked, looking up at the lines. “It’s ok if you do.” You pressed gently, a soft smile to reassure him. He was still getting used to you and Eddie paying for everything, still skittish about it even after the judge made you his legal guardians. “I can go with you, if you want. I just want to make sure you tell Santa so he can get you what you want.”

Oliver shook his head again, bottom lip jutting gently, small enough to have your face dropping in worry. “No, it’s ok.” He shook his head. “Santa never comes to my house anyways. I don’t think he knows about me, or he forgets.”

“What do you mean, honey?” Your voice was strained with emotion, trying desperately to stay level, not to sound upset though your stomach was twisting in the most painful way.

Oliver looked up at you through long, dark lashes. “He never came to my house.” He muttered, a tiny huff of a sigh that made you want to sob. “I’d always send him the letters at school, but he never came.”

You felt every ounce of his disappointment, bore it heavy on your heart. Your throat constricted, unable to find the right words. What did you say to that? What could you say to make it better? You didn’t know, so instead you nodded, squeezing his hand gently, stopping for a cookie at the small corner kiosk and heading towards the music store Eddie was at. The once cheery, festive music felt mocking now, playing through the speakers.

Eddie stood by the counter, strumming the newly repaired string of his guitar to test it. His face lit up, excited to show you how they’d fixed it, how much better it sounded now with a proper tune up. Instead, his smile fell.

“Hey,” Eddie muttered, hand running over Oliver’s locks, ruffling them in an affectionate greeting that had him giggling. “What’s goin’ on?”

You didn’t meet his gaze, swallowing the burning bile that rose in the back of your throat, eyes downcast towards Oliver. “Hey, you alright?” Eddie muttered, his hand touching yours, calloused thumb gliding across your knuckles. “Somethin’ happen?”

“No,” He knew you were lying, your voice tight the way it was when something was wrong. “Did you get it fixed?”

“Yeah,” Eddie frowned, scanning your features carefully. “Are you sure-”

“-Can I go look at the CDs?” Oliver pointed towards the aisles of CDs, hand gently pulling yorus for attention.

You nodded. “Stay towards the front, ok? Where we can see you. If you can’t see us-”

“-Then you can’t see me.” Oliver grinned. “I will.” He chirped, giddily skipping over to the CDs. Somehow, his innocent happiness made your heart break more.

“Hey, look at me, baby.” Eddie muttered, knuckle brushing under your chin lightly, pulling your gaze into his. “What’s’a matter? What’s wrong?”

You pressed your lips together to stop the shake you felt coming. “I, uh, I asked Ollie if he wanted to see Santa. Tell him what he wanted for Christmas so we could get an idea for him.” Your gaze wandered to the small boy, on his tiptoes to flick through the CDs in the rock section- the ones he was starting to favor since listening with Eddie.

“He said,” You swallowed, voice quivering with emotions that you were trying your best to keep in. “He said Santa never visited him, Eddie. He thinks he forgets him every year.”

Eddie watched your face crumble, turning away to try and compose yourself. His own heart dropping. Rushes of his own childhood, the hope that maybe this year Santa would visit if he stole the Borden’s lights, threw them up on his roof instead so Santa could see. He even kept his light on so Santa would know he was home, but still, he never came.

Until he stayed with Wayne.

“Does he,” Eddie ducked, eyes cutting around the store. “He still, like, believes in him and all that?”

You paused, brows furrowing lightly. “Yeah, I mean, I think he does-”

“-I got it.” Eddie nodded, finality in his tone. “I got it, baby. Don’t worry.”

“Ed, wait, just-” You stopped him, eyes cutting to Oliver. “You can’t make him, ok? If he doesn’t want to, then we should respect that.”

“I’m not gonna make him, baby.” Eddie smiled softly. “I got it, ok. You trust me?” You nodded slowly. You did trust Eddie, in every way with everything.

“Then let me handle this, alright? Don’t worry about it.” Eddie pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, squeezing your hip lovingly, walking back to the counter to gather his guitar.

“Hey, Ollie, gotta ask you somethin’, little guy.” Eddie hummed, strumming his guitar, tongue poked out in concentration.

Oliver was in front of him, mindlessly playing with his own action figures while Eddie practiced, flipping Spider-Man off the couch cushions and launching him over the coffee table with pure childlike imagination. “Yeah?”

Eddie watched him carefully, trying to play it cool, easy- not to scare the kid. “Mama told me something,” The beloved name you’d adorned before the papers went through. Eddie had christened you with it happily, grinning at the way it made you gleam when he’d call you it. “Said you didn’t want to see Santa.”

Oliver stopped, action figure hanging in midair, eyes wide like he’d been caught doing something wrong. “Yeah.” Oliver said quietly. Eddie knew he was trying to read his tone, see if he was mad or upset.

Eddie smiled at him softly, playfully throwing a hand out to him. “Dude, why?” He grinned. “You gotta tell the big man what you want for Christmas.”

Oliver’s head lowered, dragging the plastic feet of the superhero across the coffee table. “Santa doesn’t come to visit me.” He mumbled. “He never has.”

Eddie tried not to let his face falter. He knew it was coming, and it still hurt. Instead, he tried to remember what Wayne said, exactly how he’d said it and convinced him years ago when he was in Ollie’s shoes, hurt and disappointed.

“He didn’t?” Eddie cocked his head to the side. Oliver shook his head, face falling. “That’s weird.” Eddie quipped, lips twisting in thought. He could feel Oliver’s eyes on him curiously, he wanted to play it up for him. “You know, I bet you’re not registered.”

Oliver blinked. “Registered?”

“Yeah, your parents,” Eddie cringed at the mention. “You, uh, you have to register everyone to Santa. There’s a lot of kids in the world, and he can lose count sometimes. If you move or if you have more kids, anything, you gotta get them registered so he’ll know. Kinda like attendance, y’know?” It wasn’t nearly as smooth as when Wayne did it, much more rambling, but Oliver’s eyes lit up.

“You do?” Oliver asked, setting Spider-Man down completely.

“Oh, yeah.” Eddie nodded, setting his own guitar down on the stand. “I’ve been meaning to call anyways, make sure they were sending me a form down so I could let them know that you’re here now. Let me just call really quick.”

Oliver followed him, close on Eddie’s heels into the kitchen, where you were cutting carrots for the soup. “Hey, babe,” Eddie called, opening the junk drawer by the sink. “Have you seen the phone book?”

“The phone book?” You frowned, turning to look over your shoulder at them. “It should be under the coffee table.”

“No, the one for the North Pole.” Eddie muttered, eyes lifting to yours, shooting you a wide eyed look.

You paused, tracking his sharp side eyed glance to Oliver, who’s eyes were wide and hopeful, hanging on Eddie’s every word. “Oh,” You squeaked. “Um, I think I put it in the address book in my purse.”

Eddie fumbled through the contents of your bag, swiping the floral printed contact book with a sloppy grin. “Ah, found it.” He muttered, tongue poking out when he thumbed through the names and numbers.

“Can I see?” Oliver asked, rising on his tip-toes to look over the edge of the book.

“Hey, no way, c’mon.” Eddie shook his head. “Santa only gives it to parents. So we can call when you’ve been bad, or when we move and stuff. Can’t give it out or he’ll be mad.”

Oliver hesitated, scanning Eddie’s face carefully. He was a little suspect, but Eddie said it so confidently, it was hard not to be convinced- hell, you were convinced, listening with careful amusement from the kitchen.

Eddie pulled the phone off the hook, dialing the number with a covered hand, winking over at Oliver playfully. The line rang and rang and rang, until-

“Hello?”

“Hi, this is Eddie- sorry, Edward Munson.” Eddie said cheerfully into the phone, just like he would talking to a customer service rep. “I was needing to talk to someone about registering a new house to Santa’s route.”

There was a pause, the rustling of the line on the other end. “Eddie, what the fuck- are you high?” Dustin Henderson’s confused voice rang from the other end.

Eddie grinned, jaw clenching at annoyance he tried to hide. Thankfully, Oliver didn’t seem to notice, eyes shining with awe at the phone call. “Yeah, we were just needing to talk to someone about registering our house for Santa to stop at.” Eddie’s tone was clipped behind feigned cheerfulness. “We have Oliver living here now, and we wanted to get the form sent.”

“Eddie, what-” Dustin laughed on the other end. “Are you messing with me? You’re messing with me.”

“Yeah, just a second-” Eddie covered the phone, leaning towards Oliver. “Ollie, can you grab my wallet? By the bed?”

Oliver nodded, scampering down the hall. Eddie waited before turning, cradling the phone close to his mouth. “Henderson, play the fuck along, ok? I told Oliver I was calling the North Pole.”

Dustin laughed, a loud cackle of a laugh, full belly and entertained. “Why? What are you doing-”

“-Because Santa has never visited him.” Eddie hissed lowly, ceasing Dustin’s laughter. “And I am trying to get the registration form just to make sure we get added on Santa’s route, so Santa will be sure to visit us this year.” Eddie’s tone lifted, changing instantly back to that cheery tone he had before when Oliver ran in.

“Thanks, bud.” Eddie grinned, taking the wallet. “Just my license number?” He hummed, flicking it open.

“Eddie, I’m-I’m sorry, man. I thought you were messin’ with me-”

“-Yeah, it’s W23-016.” Eddie cut the other man off through gritted teeth. “And it’s Oliver Munson. He’s eight, and his new address is 172 Azalea Lane in Hawkins, Indiana.”

The line was silent. “What do you want me to do here, Eddie? Like pretend-”

“Yeah, if you can send the form here, that would be great.” Eddie fought back an eye roll. He should’ve called Steve. “And my wife wanted me to ask, can Oliver go see Santa now and tell him what he wants, or should he wait until after we mail the form back?”

“Uh, now? Is that what you want me to say? Dude, why didn’t you call me before so I could prepare-” Dustin huffed.

“Great. We’ll get that filled out, and we’ll go next weekend.” Eddie smiled over at Oliver, heart swelling with warmth over the irritation he felt. “Thanks so much for your help, Nog. Have a good one.”

“Oh, wow, use my ninth grade dwarf name. Real mature-” Eddie didn’t wait to hear the rest of Dustin’s whining, slapping the phone on the receiver.

Oliver was bouncing, practically exploding with anticipation and excitement. You thought your heart might burst at the sight. “They’re sending it over.” Eddie clapped his hands. “Told you it was easy, Ollie. They said you just have to sign something when it comes, and we can send it back off to the North Pole, and can go see Santa next week.”

“Wow,” Oliver beamed, smiling at you. “Thank you.” He muttered, barreling into Eddie’s side, squeezing his thighs in a tight, loving hug.

“You’re welcome, bud.” Eddie smiled, patting his head affectionately. “Can you go put my guitar back in the garage? In the case, please? Make sure to fasten it.”

Eddie waited until Oliver was running back into the living room to slide over to you. Your eyes shining with adoration, awe. “That was the sweetest thing I think I’ve ever seen, Ed.” You muttered, arms wrapping around his torso. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so in love with you in my whole life.”

“C’mon,” Eddie blushed, rocking you gently, a half stepped sway. “Not gonna let the kid have a bad Christmas.”

“How did- How did you even come up with that?” You blinked, chin resting against his chest. “That was genius.”

“Well, gotta give credit to Wayne.” Eddie shrugged. “He, uh, he did it first. When I came to live with him the first time after my mom passed. Dad hadn’t got me a gift since she died, too fucked up to remember the whole Santa thing. So Wayne told me it was because he forgot to register my house after we moved. I believed it. Made me feel better thinkin’ my dad just forgot to register the house, instead of forgettin’ me, y’know?” Eddie muttered, voice dropping lowly.

Your heart ached in the most uncomfortable way, squeezing him tighter into your chest. “It was sweet.” You whispered, arms circling around his waist, pressing a kiss to the soft fabric of his t-shirt, right over his heart. It made him flush with heat. “Thank you for that.”

“Baby, do you have construction paper?” Eddie asked, sliding into your classroom. It was still early, the sun just barely lifting into the grayed Indiana morning sky, frost still fogging at the windows.

“Um, in the cabinet in the red drawer.” You pointed to the arts and crafts area, neatly organized safety scissors and crayons tucked away. “What are you doing?”

“I got this idea last night. Ollie’s real excited-” Eddie paused, scanning the classroom for the little boy.

“He went down to the gym with Mrs. Bronski.” You waved it off lightly, passing out the morning activity papers to each of the spots. “Excited about what?”

“Excited about Santa this weekend.” Eddie muttered, flipping through the stack of construction paper, shimmying out a sheet of red and green. “Anyways, I got this idea about making the form. I found these letter stamps and ink pads in the art room, asked Lois if I could borrow them and she’s letting me. I think it’d be better printed like that so it look more legit, ya know?”

You beamed, smiling brightly under the fluorescent lights of the classroom, making Eddie’s heart skip. “Yeah, that’s- that’s really sweet, Ed.”

Eddie paused, shoulder’s tensing slightly, that familiar wide eyed, scared look creeping into his features. “You- It’s stupid, isn’t it?” He asked, voice tight. “I, fuck- sorry- I just, I dunno I thought it would be cool. Better than… It doesn’t matter. That was too much, I’m sorry, I just got excited-”

“Eddie, what?” You lifted a brow, tone steady and calm, like it always was when he’d spin out like this. “Ed, I think that’s a great idea. I think it’s really sweet, and I think Ollie will love it.”

Eddie scanned your features, looking for any reason not to believe you- a quirk in your lips, a blink that felt off, anything. “Are you sure? It’s not… too much?”

“You think I’d judge you for doing too much?” You tilt your head to the side playfully. “I’m jealous I didn’t think of it because it’s perfect, Eddie. All of it. You’re just,” Your breath hitched, heart fluttering at the sight of him. “You’re just a really good dad, and it makes me so inexplicably happy that I get to be with you. Watch you be a good dad, and a good husband, and just be with you. I’m so happy with you.”

Eddie blushed, cheeks reddening at your words. If you weren’t in school, the looming threat of HR surrounding you, he’d push you up against the poster board, make out with you right there.

“Thank you.” Eddie muttered instead, looking down at his work boots, cheeks burning with the praise. “I, uh, I- yeah, I feel the same way, y’know. About you, and you’re a good mom- the best mom.” You rolled your eyes bashfully, grabbing his hand, squeezing it softly.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Steve grinned, head ducking in your doorway. Eddie rolled his eyes, scoffing with exasperation. “Gotta go get the kids. Do you want me to walk yours up too?”

“No, I’ve got it.” You smile politely. “Thanks, Steve. I’ll be right there.”

Eddie was already reaching for your lanyard of keys, dropping them in your hand, pressing a sweet, parting kiss to your cheek quickly.

He worked tirelessly in his tiny janitor’s closet, pulling out a broken ruler to make sure it was lined correctly, taking breaks in between the lunch cleanup and fixing a ceiling light, until it was perfect.

Oliver was thrilled when Eddie came home, the bright red paper in his hand. “Guess what came in the mail today, Ollie?” Eddie sang in a silly tone, a grin so wide and dazzling it made you want to melt.

Oliver signed the dotted line with careful, slanted handwriting. You thought you were going to cry seeing him sign Oliver Munson beaming with pride at the last name that was all his now.

Eddie snuck it back into your bedroom after going to “mail the letter back”, neatly laying it in your bedside drawer. That night, the two of you lied in bed, looking over every careful detail of the paper, your own prized possession.

“How long did this take you?” You muttered, fingertip tracing over Oliver’s pen scrawled signature, lip trembling all over again.

“Not too long,” Eddie’s chest rumbled under you, lips pressed into your hair, holding you against him as close as possible. “Worst part was trying to make sure I didn’t miss a letter or something. I started on green but fucked up Santa. Spelled Satan, so had to start over.”

You laughed, a small, watery giggle that had Eddie’s grin on you tightening, an affectionate squeeze to your hip. “Yeah, that might have him confused.” You beam, head lolling back on Eddie’s shoulder to look up at him. “He was so excited though, I don’t think he would have cared.”

Eddie’s lips curled in a soft smile, hand moving to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in for a sweet kiss- the kind that left your head reeling with devotion, letting him press you back into the pillows, body sliding on top of yours.

“Wait,” You panted, tapping on his chest gently.

Eddie frowned, rolling off of you. “‘M sorry. I thought you wanted to-”

You placed the paper back in your bedside drawer, neatly tucking it under a book so it wouldn’t get crinkled. “I didn’t want it to rip.” You smiled softly, flicking off the lamp.

Eddie could see your eyes, glowing with that devious hint that had his heart jumping with excitement. You crawled over him, legs straddling either side of his hips, your hands in his hair this time, pressing him into the pillow, pinning him with a feverish kiss that left him reeling.

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thornsnvultures · 11 months

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18+ nsft breeding kink, plus size!fem!reader

teacher!steve finally getting off for summer break

---

he's so excited to spend time with you, his pretty little wife.

or at least that's what he whispers in your ear when he sneaks up behind you that morning while you make breakfast. the eggs almost burn, you're too distracted from all the hot kisses he presses up and down your neck.

"got all summer to love on you. gonna take you to the beach, fuck, anywhere you can wear that new bikini. maybe around the house all summer."

you have to beat steve off of you with the spatula just so you can eat.

and you do spend a lot of time in that bikini. and a lot of time out of it. with steve's hands roaming your curves, every exposed inch that stayed hidden for those long winter months. not that you ever hid anything from him. but to see you laid bare for him at any time of day. it makes him a little crazy.

"steve, right there! fuck," you whine with your head thrown back. your fingers tug at his long, thick hair as his tongue delves deeper by the side of the backyard pool. steve pushes your legs up wider, higher, so he can bury his face in your cunt.

"that's it, baby. scream for me. let the neighbors know whose pussy this is."

two of his fingers scissor you open as he laps at your clit and you writhe on the tiled edge, giving in and screaming his name as you explode on his tongue.

"fuck, that's it, baby. c'mere," he pulls you up and into the pool with him, holding you in his arms as you sink down onto his cock. "not done with you yet."

summer thunderstorms are your favorite. curling up with steve as the rain pounds and lightning cracks across the sky. even when the power goes out you feel safe in this house in the arms of the man you love.

underneath him too, wrapped in darkness after the lights have gone out. steve holds your hands above your head as he sinks into your heat.

"look at me, baby. keep those pretty eyes open while I stuff you full of my cock."

your lashes flutter, straining against the need to keep them from rolling back. his fat cock fills you so good, so perfectly.

thunder booms as steve pounds you into the mattress. it's so close it shakes the house but all you can feel is steve. the thick hair on his chest brushes against your skin, tickling your nipples as he leans in to kiss you.

"gonna fill you up. fuck this load into you, stuff you full. that what you want, baby? want me to breed this little pussy?"

the soft way steve says such filthy things makes your brain melt, all you can do is whimper, nod, beg, plead, whine desperately for just that. for all of him.

steve mouths at your neck, presses kisses to your breasts as his thrusts grow frantic. slamming harder into you until he stills, grunting, his hips twitching with the force of his orgasm when he spills inside you. the gushing warmth pushes you over the edge and you cry out as steve drops his weight on you, still holding your hands.

steve watches intently when he pulls out of you later, watching his cum ooze out of your creamy cunt. he pushes it back in gently and you only stir a little in your sleep. the rain has stopped so steve opens a window, letting the cool night air blow in.

"my pretty little wife," he whispers fondly, smiling to himself and crawling back into bed with you.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus size!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #teacher!steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #married!steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #my fics

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stvharrngton · 4 months

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a lesson in romantics; the extra-curricular

summary: a multi-part series where reader is the new art teacher at hawkins high and the history teacher, mr. harrington, takes a shine to the new girl. mutual pining ensues on their road to love 🥀

a/n: so here’s the alternative ending! but it’s not really an alternative ending more of just a… continuation of the last chapter with a little somethin somethin extra 🤤 this has no impact on the story so it can be read as a standalone also so i won’t be tagging the taglist as it might not be something everyone wants to read

characters: steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: smut, 18+ minors dni, oral (f receiving), protected p in v, lots of pet names 🥺

SERIES MASTERLIST

THE DINER PARKING LOT, HAWKINS, MAY 1993

“…What do you say, Mr. H?”

“I think you’ve got yourself a deal, honey.” Steve swooned as he gripped your waist tightly, his warm brown orbs boring deeply into yours.

You caught him off guard when you fisted the pressed white collar of his shirt, pulling you back down to him for another searing kiss. Steve’s eyes went wide before he melted into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you almost flush with his chest.

This kiss was different than the first. It was messier, wetter, hotter. Steve licked at your bottom lip which you gladly accepted, your tongues swirling together as your fingers travelled up into his hair, nails raking over his tresses.

Despite the cool air, you both felt your bodies getting warmer, all the tension between you two, the will they won’t they, all the flirty exchanges finally unravelled into your kiss. When you finally pulled away from each other you still held one another close, Steve resting his forehead against your own.

“Here,” he said quietly, nodding towards the car. He opened the passenger door for you, only making his way to the drivers side once you were in safely. You were all over each other soon after, you were sure you’d have been in Steve’s lap if not for the restrictiveness of your dress.

Steve moved his lips to your neck, pressing featherlight kisses on the skin there. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of his lips on you, doing your utmost best to keep any whimpers or whines from spilling out. When the breath you had seemed to be holding trembled from your lips, Steve pulled away. Eyes scanning for any concerns.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice a decibel above a whisper. His hands were still on your waist, fingertips digging into the flesh that was covered by the red material of your dress. When you nodded he asked again, “Are you sure?”

The butterflies erupted in your stomach once again, Steve’s incessant need to know that you were okay, that this is what you wanted was inherently sexy. It only furthered your want for him more.

“I’m sure,” you squeaked out, licking your lips as you nodded, “your place or mine?” you asked him, encouragingly.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, trying to ignore how fast his heart was beating, “my place is closer.” Steve stammered out as he scrambled to get his keys in the ignition.

You could only smirk at how flustered Steve was becoming. You watched carefully as he drove you both to his home, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, doing his best to ignore the ache beneath his pants. Once you arrived he opened the passenger door for you like he always did, extending his hand to help you from the car.

He clicked the front door closed behind you, “Here, let me.” he said, gesturing for you to take a perch on the stairs.

Steve knelt down to unstrap your heels one at a time. You chewed on your bottom lip as you watched him set them aside before he came back to you, caressing your legs so softly, bringing his lips to your ankle before travelling up your calf.

He pushed the hem of your dress the higher he went, his lips following in tandem. A pretty little whimper escaped your lips the closer he got, your fingers reaching out for his tie to bring his lips back to yours.

“C’mere,” he whispered against your lips, moving his hands to your ass, urging you to jump. You wrapped your legs around his tailbone as he carried you upstairs, the hem of your dress hugged your hips as Steve took the opportunity to grab at the flesh of your ass.

You reached what you could only assume to be Steve’s bedroom as he sat you down on the edge of an old oak desk, his lips never leaving yours as he brushed all the pens and old lesson notes aside onto the floor. Steve didn’t care, anything thought that wasn’t you was long gone now.

His lips were on your neck again as you spoke between whines and whimpers, “Do you always bring girls home on the first date?” your lips curled into a smirk as you said it, Steve’s warm honey eyes snapping to yours.

“Only the ones who wear pretty red dresses like this.” He shot back, a smirk of his own tugging at his kiss bitten lips. It didn’t take long for Steve to move his hands to your back, his long fingers pulling on the zip of your dress. His hands caressed the skin of your back, swallowing the lump in his throat when he realised there wasn’t a clasp for him to snap open.

Steve pulled back slowly, his eyes asking that silent question once more. You nodded timidly, suddenly feeling shy as Steve slowly began to pull your dress down your arms and your body. Steve noticed the shift in your mood, the change in your body language. He picked up your hands one by one, placing a kiss on each of your knuckles, “Hey, it’s okay.” He whispered.

He peered up at you through his long lashes, his fingers coming to stroke at the soft skin of your cheek, his thumb brushing across it. “Let me take care of you, yeah? Wanna make my pretty girl feel good.”

Your heart swooned at the pet name, the ache between your legs growing with the hushed, gentle tone of his voice, the way he looked at you, really looked at every inch of you with so much adoration and desire, it really did a number on your brain. You lifted yourself enough so Steve could pull your dress down your legs.

Steve’s lips soon found yours again, moving from your neck to your collarbone. They travelled down your chest, lips leaving wet kisses in their wake. His lips encircled one of your nipples, licking and sucking as his hands caressed your breasts. You watched through hazy eyes as Steve knelt before you, his large hands curling underneath your thighs to spread and push them apart.

He indulged in your scent, eyes glued to the thin black lace that covered your heat. Steve’s fingertips squeezed at your doughy flesh, teeth grazing your inner thigh before his lips came to your clothed pussy. He pressed a kiss over the material as you exhaled a shaky breath. Steve curled his fingers around the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your legs and throwing them somewhere you would worry about later.

His eyes were glued to you, jaw slack and mouth hanging agape at the sight of you. Your cunt glistened in the dim light of Steve’s bedroom, your fingers curling around the edge of the desk in anticipation.

“Oh, man,” Steve sighed, his eyes darkening by the second. His tongue darted out to lick at his lips, “look at you, baby. I bet she tastes so sweet.”

You scooted closer to Steve as subtly as you could, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He did though and it made him chuckle, “Easy baby,” he cooed, pressing a single kiss to your throbbing clit, “I got you.”

He started off soft and slow, tongue lapping at your folds, his mouth kissing all over your pussy. Your head rolled back in pleasure, your eyes fluttering shut at the overwhelming feeling of Steve’s mouth on you. He licked at you ever so softly, tongue swirling around your swollen clit as it throbbed against him. You let your fingers thread through his hair, you couldn’t help yourself but feel his soft tresses between your fingertips as you moaned out, “Fuck, Steve, you’re so good at this.”

He smirked against you with a chuckle, sending vibrations through your core. Your compliment only spurred him on. Steve got more intense with it, licking and sucking harder, his tongue delving inside your sopping hole. You cried out in euphoria, your skin hot and clammy. You felt the knot in your stomach twist and tighten as Steve lapped at your clit, sucking at the bud.

One of his hands left your thigh, his long finger circling your hole teasingly. You mewled above him as he did so, his mouth only leaving you for a second to speak, “You taste so good, honey,” he cooed, his finger knuckle deep in your pussy now, “even better than I imagined.”

Steve smirked up at you before he went back to lapping at your clit, and you were stunned. Your mouth was open but you couldn’t speak, only managing to stammer out, “You, fuck–, you imagined?”

“How could I not?” Steve teased, adding a second finger to your cunt now, curling and scissoring you apart. He felt you clench around him and he groaned, feeling you get wetter with every stroke of his fingers, he knew you were close. “I know you’re close, sweetheart, you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”

You whimpered with a nod, gnawing on your lip to prevent yourself from making too much noise. You felt everything go hot, your toes curling as you tugged on the strands of Steve’s hair, making him groan into your cunt. You whined out in pleasure as your orgasm washed over you, racking every inch of your body.

Riding out your high as your chest heaved, your grip on Steve’s hair loosening as the lustful fog in your mind dithered away. Steve was still lapping at you, soft kitten licks to make sure he didn’t waste a drop of anything you had to offer him. Only when you winced at the sensitivity did he pull away from you.

He kissed at your plush thighs, up to your stomach, over your chest before brushing his lips against yours. You hummed at the taste of yourself on his lips as he kissed you, his tongue licking into you all pretty. He smiled against you when he felt you grip onto his tie once more, mumbling, “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“I suppose I am,” he hushed against your lips. Steve pulled away from you momentarily, hands loosening his tie as your fingers worked on unbuttoning his shirt. Tie undone and shirt unbuttoned, Steve unbuckled his belt before shoving his slacks down his legs, stepping out of the material.

Your gaze was locked on the patch of thick hair that covered his pecs, your eyes bulging out of their sockets almost. A chuckle rumbled from his throat when he noticed, his finger hooking under your chin bringing your gaze back to his, “Eyes are up here, darling.”

He kissed you so softly, so sweetly as your cheeks heated up as your ogling didn’t go unnoticed. You ran your fingers over his chest, nails scratching lightly at the coarse hair there. Your hands wandered further down his chest, over his stomach before finally reaching the waistband of his boxers.

Your fingers ghost over the bulge beneath the tight black material, your heart hammering inside your chest as you felt the length of him. “Fuck,” Steve groaned into your mouth, a breath you gladly swallowed.

When you finally dared to delve beneath Steve’s underwear, he was all about ready to lose it. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it had been a while since someone had touched him like this but fuck, was he honoured that it was you. Hands hurriedly shoving the black material down his legs ready to join the other garments that had been thrown aside.

You fully wrapped your fingers around the base of his cock now, Steve’s eyes fluttering closed as he buried his face in your shoulder. You stroked him slowly, a gentle flick of your wrist as Steve dug his fingers into the flesh of your hips.

“Shit,” he whined, “that feels so good.” He pulled away from you now, his eyes falling to where your hand was connected to his body. Your gaze followed his, swallowing a lump in your throat you didn’t know you had when you saw the size of him. Your fingers stopped in their tracks when your eyes fell on his cock for the first time. Long in size and thick in girth, veins protruding and a tip that was a pretty pink.

Steve sensed your hesitancy, his eyes softening once they fell on the nerves that decorated your features. “Hey,” he whispered, thumb stroking over the apple of your cheek soothingly, “we don’t have to—“

“No! God no,” you answered, almost a little too fast, “it’s just… you’re so—,”

“I know.” Steve chuckled lightheartedly, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “We’ll take it slow, I promise. Jus’ wanna make you feel good, honey.”

You nodded as Steven’s words went straight to your core, your thighs clenching as you watched him wrap a hand around his cock, giving it a few strokes before he reached for a foil packet hidden inside his drawer. He rolled the latex on before spitting in his own palm, lubing up his cock ready for you.

“Ready, baby?” he breathed, free hand cupping your cheek as the other guided his cock to your pussy, pressing the tip into your folds.

You didn’t say anything, but you simply grabbed the ends of his tie that was still tucked beneath the collar of his shirt and pulled him into you, crashing your lips to his. Steve took this as his cue to slip his cock into your entrance, your walls sucking him in with force.

You both moaned into each other’s mouths at the feeling, at the stretch Steve’s cock created. It was a sweet sting, something a little addictive as Steve managed to slide his length almost half-way inside of you. He gave you a minute to adjust, your lips still sliding messily over each other’s.

“Please, Steve,” you whined, doing your best to rut your hips up off the desk.

“Alright, baby,” he hushed you, petting at your hair as he continued to kiss you, “s’okay, I’ll give you what you want.” He began to move his hips, in and out, torturously slow. The wetness of your arousal covering his cock as he fucked you.

You cried out in pleasure at the feeling of Steve’s cock inside of you. You never thought this is where you’d end up when he drove you to that diner, when he bought you that milkshake, when he slow danced with you in the parking lot. But fuck, you were so grateful this is where the night led you.

“You’re doing so good, honey,” Steve cooed, his thrusts beginning to pick up the pace only slightly, “taking my cock so well.”

“You’re so big,” you mewled, throwing your head back as you squeezed your eyes shut, “fucking— holy shit.” Your eyes shot back open as Steve moved faster, deeper, the tip of his cock stroking against that spot that made you lose your mind.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” Steve sympathised. He knew he was well endowed, similar comments uttered by past lovers when they got between the sheets but no one ever felt as right as you did, “but you’re taking this cock like a fuckin’ champ.”

His lips soon found your shoulder, pressing wet, messy kisses along the skin there before they followed up to your neck, teeth nipping, tongue darting out to soothe the skin. Your hands flew to his head, fingers tangling themselves in his hair.

Steve’s large hands squeezed at your tits, rolling your nipples between his finger and thumb before they moved over your soft skin, caressing at your waist and hips before settling on your thighs. “Can you lift your hips? Hold yourself up with your hands for me, angel.”

You did as he asked, shifting yourself to the edge of the desk, lifting yourself up as you curled your fingers around the wood. Steve gripped your ass, his fingers squeezing at the flesh as he began to pound into you, the wet slap of your pussy and the mixture of your moans and Steve’s grunts the only sounds that could be heard.

“Oh my God,” you whined, moans all high-pitched and hot, the change in pace had you feeling a type of way, had your insides twisting and your pussy fluttering around Steve’s cock.

Steve’s eyes were fixated on your body. Locked on how your tits would bounce with every thrust of his cock, how the thin sheen of sweat shone on your body in the dull moonlight peaking through the curtains, how your perfectly styled hair was gradually slipping out of the bun the longer the night went on. Steve was in love, painfully soon, but you were the most beautiful being he had ever laid eyes on.

“You feel so good, fuck,” he whined, his brows pinching together in concentration as he tried to keep his orgasm at bay, “don’t know how much longer I can last, shit, pussy’s so perfect.”

The filthy words dripping from Steve’s mouth, the way his fat cock was bullying itself in and out of your pussy, the sound of his skin slapping against yours was enough to push you over the edge. Lip nestled between your teeth as you reached a hand of yours round to brush your fingers against your clit, once, twice before you were crying out once more.

“Oh, please don’t stop,” you wailed like a woman possessed, “please, Steve. I want you to cum, I want your cum, please, oh please.”

Steve was lost for words, which didn’t happen very often he would admit, but hearing you cry out for his seed had him all but tensing up on the spot. He gripped you tighter, fucked you harder, faster until his cum was spilling inside you and he was crying out your name into the night.

The feeling was overwhelming for you both. Like the back and forth, the will they won’t they had finally come to an end. There was no going back from this, no going back from this night you spent together. Steve was yours as you were his.

You melted into each other’s body, sweaty skin against sweaty skin as you both came back down to earth. You were both breathing heavy as Steve’s forehead came to rest against yours, his nose knocking against yours, toothy grins spreading across both of your mouths.

Steve brushed his lips against yours once more that night, pecking at your pillowy lips once, twice more. He would never get tired of the way they felt against his own, soft and sweet and right. Neither of you needed to say anything, to utter a single word, you both felt it, clearly on the same page.

“I think we should get cleaned up,” Steve spoke quietly, brushing the hair from your face, “bath or shower, hon?”

“I could go for a shower,” you answered, wincing as Steve pulled himself from you, the emptiness settling in. He insisted you stay put whilst he got things started. He fished the softest towels from the linen closet as he got the shower running.

Once you were clean and dry, wrapped in a towel as you sat on the edge of Steve’s bath, he leant in and pressed a single kiss to your nose. “I’ll get you some pyjamas. You’re staying the night, right? I mean— if you want to.”

And you did stay the night, of course you did. Steve’s soft sheets engulfed you as did the large bed you laid in. He spotted you a large, old t-shirt of his, the words now faded and a pair of shorts that were a little big on your hips.

You spent the night wrapped in Steve’s strong arms, your hand splayed on his chest, drawing shapes into his skin with your legs entwined. You spoke about forever and it felt so natural, like it was meant to be. Like your story had been going for decades but in reality, it was only just beginning.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington series #teacher!steve #alir #k.fic

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rosewaterandivy · 6 months

Text

Epilogue | for once in my life

Summary: Rumor has it, that hometown hero-turned-teacher Steve Harrington is hot for teacher. The English teacher next door to him at Hawkins High, who also happens to be his childhood friend, that is.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x chaotic!dumbass reader

W.C: 5.7k

Warnings: No use of y/n - reader goes by the nickname Trouble instead, yearning, Tuscan summers, a flashback or two, a wedding, and my usual filth™️

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me while I worked on an ending for our two beloved idiots. 🥺 Truthfully, part of me put off writing the epilogue simply because I didn’t want to let Trouble and Steve go— they’re so near and dear to me! But, all good things must come to an end and I hope I’ve given them a fitting one. Thank you all for reading along and sharing your joy with me, it’s been incredible to experience! 💜💜💜

Series masterlist | Series Playlist | trouble will find me (for Trouble, most ardently) | rebel without a clue (for Steve, with love)

The distance was difficult, only mitigated by the positively unreal Tuscan summer. Though the university was in Bologna in the Emilia-Romagna region, since your classes centered on Dante, you along with a few other students, called Florence your home away from home for the summer.

The sun shone bright and hot against the ancient stones of Palazzo Medici Riccardi, and felt good against your back as you lazed in the garden and courtyard on a rare day off from combing through medieval texts in jam-packed libraries and dust motes floating through the air.

Crossing the bustling street you popped into your local gelateria only to be greeted with an exuberant, “Bella!” from Alessandro behind the counter. “Finally you grace us with your presence,” He teases, already scooping out a serving of arancia rossa sorbetto for you into a cup.

“Grazie,” You say with a smile, taking the sorbetto from his outstretched hand. “Had a slow start to the morning is all, Sandro.”

“Certo, I know how it is,” He says with a knowing wink.

To be fair, the slow start to the day was warranted, given the stress-induced dream you had last night. There you were, minding your own business, thinking about Steve and the voice note he’d left you earlier, and the next thing you know, your brain decided a trip down memory lane was warranted.

“But what do I do about the dress?” Your voice is choked, tongue stumbling over the words.

It hangs in your closet, mocking you. A pink dust bag with an elegant calligraphy card that lists your former wedding date and ex-fiancé’s last name. Robin’s fingers graze the zipper on the garment bag, fingers slowly settling along the pull.

“You could try it on?”

She says it as if she wishes she didn’t have to, as if the next time you would put on the wedding dress would be for the alteration appointment which you had already canceled, along with everything else.

Truthfully, the day you found the dress wasn’t at all what you expected it to be. Sure, you’d looked around online and at a few boutiques with Nancy, Robin, your mother, and would-be mother-in-law. Nothing struck your fancy though, each dress you slipped on had something wrong with it— too tight, too loose, too many embellishments, not enough embellishments, too heavy...

It was Steve who suggested the boutique, actually. One of his mother’s friends had a daughter who’d gotten her dress from a place in Indianapolis and said the service and selection were both top-notch. So you went and made a day trip out of it; Eddie and Steve would drop you and the girls off at the boutique and hang out in the city for the day.

Though, they really did try to weasel their way in to the appointment.

“The fact that you won’t let us join you is misandry.”

“Oh my god,” you laugh. “No, it isn’t, Eds!”

“Okay,” he relents, turning around to face you in the backseat, “Maybe not misandry, but definitely discriminatory. Dudes just wanna have fun!”

Steve laughs, pulling up in front of the boutique, waves to your mother who’s waiting on the sidewalk. “Y’never know,” he teases, “Could need a second opinion in there. Especially once they open the champagne.”

Eddie squawks at that, “You get to try on dresses and drink booze? I’m offended I’ve been left out here.”

Robin opens the backdoor with a roll of her eyes, “No boys allowed, dingus.”

You follow suit, giving Steve a small smile, “Thanks for driving us.”

His gaze softens, eyes meeting yours, “Happy to help. Now, go find a stunner in there for us, will ya?”

With a shake of your head, you bring yourself back to the moment. Sitting on the floor of your former home, moving boxes and tape littering the floor ready for you to pack up the pieces of your life. You look to Robin again, she’s unzipped the garment bag entirely revealing the bodice and skirt of the gown.

She watches you thoughtfully, “I mean, just to see if you still like it? That way we’ll know if we need to pack it or sell it.”

Sighing, you wipe your damp palms against your thighs and stand up. “Yeah,” you breathe, “Okay.”

Between the two of you, you managed to wrestle into the dress. Robin securing the delicate straps as you adjust the cups and situate yourself. The door creaks open to reveal Nancy, her eyes bright with interest.

Robin gives up with her attempts to fix the zipper and numerous buttons on the back, steps aside for Nancy to intervene.

“You’re gorgeous, babe,” Robin says, voice soft. “It looks amazing on you! Same as the day we found it.”

“It’s one hell of a dress.” Nancy agrees, the zipper pull sliding home. “No one would say no to you in that.”

Your laugh comes out as a choked thing, wet and raspy. You wipe your eyes in an effort to prevent any tears from falling. But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He didn’t even have to see the dress to know that he no longer wanted you.

“Thanks, guys.”

Feeling brave enough to look at the mirror, you pause in perusal. And sure enough, it’s a stunner. Delicate lace embellished the corseted bodice, waist nipped just enough to amplify the bust. The skirt flowed down in layers of silk and tulle, the lace accenting the frothy peaks and valleys of it.

Turning, you noticed the low-dip of the back, highlighted by the beginnings of the train. It was a gown meant for a cathedral wedding, a long aisle as you walked toward the altar. A beautiful wedding dress for a wedding that no longer was.

It was getting difficult to justify keeping it.

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, bursting into the room slack-jawed, “Your tits look great!”

Robin smacks him, “No boys allowed, dingus!”

“Yeah, Eddie, don’t you know what a closed door means?”

He grins, “I think we know by now that, no, I clearly do not.”

Hearing footsteps coming down the hall, you turn to Nancy eyes wide. “Nance, the door–”

She shuts it quickly, keeping a hand on the knob. Robin and Eddie stop their bickering long enough to share a meaningful glance. You fist the full of the skirt in both hands and motion for Robin’s help in getting the dress off.

“Uh.” Steve says, voice muffled through the closed door, “What’s going on in there?”

“Nothing!” You’re quick to respond, trying and failing to keep the panic from your voice, “Just packing up some stuff.”

“Riiiight.” He drawls, “Then do I hear Eddie in there talking about tits?”

“Hey man,” Eddie says in his own defense. “I just wandered in here, I know nothing.”

“And why is the door locked?”

Nance’s eyes go to the doorknob as it jiggles in her hand. “We’re trying to figure out what to do with the dress,” she says in a breathless rush.

If looks could kill, Nancy would have dropped to the floor. You narrow your eyes at her and turn with a huff.

“What dress— t-the wedding dress?”

“Yes, Steve.” Robin sighs. “That’s the one.”

The doorknob swivels again, “C’mon, just open the door guys. Eddie’s seen it and I am officially the only one who hasn’t.”

“No!” You shout.

Everyone stops to look at you, eyes wide.

“I mean,” you sputter indignantly, stepping out of the dress and throwing on your overly large t-shirt. “S’not a big deal, I’ll probably sell it, anyway.”

Robin and Eddie maneuver it back into the garment bag with a zip just as Nancy steps away from the door, gaze soft taking in your drawn face.

Steve stumbles in soon after to find you, pants-less, the hem on your shirt grazing your bare thighs, furiously taping boxes closed and scribbling in sharpie.

“Nothing to see here!” You say, stumbling into your bike shorts, tugging them back up. “No siree, nothing at all.”

His chest falls slightly, looking from you to the pink garment bag and back again. Robin catches the minute change in his expression before he’s picking up a box and carrying it out into the hall, not a word to be said about the dress.

And all that runs through your mind is a frantic buzz of ‘It’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her wedding dress.’ Never mind that you were no longer a bride and Steve was never your intended groom. Any rational know-how kicked from your thoughts in an echo of your hammering heart.

Why your exhausted brain conjured up that particular episode, you had no idea. The instance was promptly forgotten, the dress stored at your parent’s place, and Steve never brought it up again.

Thank God for that.

Maybe it was because of Nancy and Jonathan’s looming nuptials. He’d popped the question not long after Nance moved in, and it had been full-steam ahead since March. The ceremony was to happen at the end of summer, just as your intensive was wrapping up.

She’d nearly had a coronary when you’d expressed your doubts about being able to attend.

“I’m not getting married without you Trouble, so sweet-talk those profs into letting you sit your exams early and get the fuck back home.” She sighs down the line, “There’s only so much of moping Steve we can take— Eddie is about ready to strangle him.”

You huff a laugh, “Yeah, I’m surprised he’s held out this long.”

“Yeah, she agrees dryly, "We all know you two'll take any excuse to get Steve in a headlock.”

“I don’t need an excuse,” You scoff. “That punk needs to be put in his place.”

You’d taken up Nance on her no-nonsense advice and your professors had graciously allowed you to submit your final papers early in order to make the wedding. Unfortunately, you’d miss out on a few of the celebrations like the bridal shower, bachelorette party, and rehearsal dinner— your flight would be landing just as the festivities began— but, Nancy and Jonathan had agreed to help you surprise the gang.

For all Robin, Eddie, and Steve knew there was absolutely, positively no way you could get out of your scheduled final exams. It sucked, as Robin rightfully pointed out, that you’d have to miss your best friend’s wedding but they all understood.

Steve was more hangdog about it than ever.

“Thanks Sandro,” You call out, plastic spoon in your mouth as you quickly step out the door, leaving a €5 note on the counter before he could stop you with a, “Your money is no good here, bella!”

Your phone buzzes in your bag, ducking under an awning your scramble through your well-worn tote bag to find it, throwing your sunglasses on in the process.

“Hey Fratty light,” You greet with a smile, spooning another cool helping of blood orange flavored ice into your mouth. “Do any good keg stands lately?”

Steve’s laugh nearly eclipses the warmth of the sun on your skin, a surge of heat building low in your stomach.

“At least I didn’t fall off the keg.”

“That was one time!” You scoff, jogging across the street before an aggressive Vespa can mow you down. Pulling the phone away from your mouth, you give the driver the ombrello gesture and shout, “Vaffanculo!”

He chuckles at your outburst, “Tell ‘em babe!”

“I’ll have you know, I stuck that landing Harrington and, it was quite the crowd-pleaser if I recall.”

“Sure Trouble,” You can nearly hear the eye roll at your expense, “It was the landing and not the fact that you were wearing those panties.”

The fact that he remembered the pair in question has you reeling, you nearly run into a fellow pedestrian in your dazed state.

“Anyway,” You say, cleaning your throat. “What’s on the sad boy agenda for today? Getting into divorced dad rock, any Matchbox-20 or Creed in your future?”

“God, you’re awful, and no, thanks very much.”

You hear a door slam and a car engine turn over. Someone muttering about Steve’s ‘utter lack of taste’ in music— Eddie, without a doubt.

He sighs down the line, pulling on your heartstrings because you miss them all so damn much, but Steve most of all.

“Just helping with some wedding stuff.” His voice is softer, sadder knowing you won’t be there to celebrate with them. “Boring shit, you know.”

You hum in agreement, “Well I’ll let you get to it. Don’t let Eddie flirt with too many bridesmaids!”

“You got it, chief,” Steve says, “Take care of yourself babe.”

“You too, big boy.” A huff of laughter at hearing his scoff, “Byyyeeee.”

And maybe it happens like Nance said it would, things just fall into place when they’re meant to.

After a flight from hell— a toddler would not, for love or money, stop kicking the back of your seat on the evening flight from Milan to Berlin, and you were stuck in the backmost row from Berlin to Indianapolis on the red-eye. It was a miracle you rolled up to your parents' house in one piece. You’d arrive at the venue to get ready with the rest of the bridal party where you’d hopefully be able to keep Robin sworn to secrecy.

You weren’t above putting her into a headlock, if it came down to it.

Dress, shoes, and make-up bag hastily thrown in your mom’s car, you drove to the venue just outside of Hawkins. A lovely little outdoor property owned by a local family, groves of trees and the finest collection of wildflowers you’d ever seen— fitting for Nancy and Jonathan.

You arrive in a slightly mussed frenzy, arms weighed down with your bridesmaid dress and a weekend bag that did fuck-all to protect you from the sudden onslaught of summer rain. Cursing the permeability of Indiana summers, you walk swiftly toward the bridal cottage.

The squelch of your shoes and drops of rain accompany you across the tiled path. Breathe. A steady inhale pulls the comforting scent of petrichor to your lungs, tucked safely behind the cage of your ribs. A shift in the light, a cloud makes way for the sun to shine once more; you scramble for the club masters perched on your head, impossibly tangled (of course) in a damp nest of hair.

Pried free, you rest the glasses against your nose bridge and stroll to the door. Before you can wrestle a hand free to knock, the door swings open to reveal a tipsy Vickie and bemused Nancy. A smirk settles on your lips as the two shuffle you into the cottage, tutting at the state of your hair and general tardiness.

“It is a wedding y’know,” Vickie teases grabbing the canvas bag from you. “Could make an effort to be on time.” She drops a wink your way before absconding toward the vanity table to deliver your belongings elsewhere.

Nancy huffs and rolls her eyes, taking the dresses from your arm. “Ignore her,” she soothes, “Seems the title of temporary co-M.O.H. has gone straight to her head.” She shoves a flute of champagne into your empty hand and leads you inside. “But you’re here, so the title can rightfully fall to you.”

“And how is the blushing bride?” You smile, taking in her cool, calm demeanor.

She’s notoriously hard to ruffle, so you’re not surprised to find Nancy the same as ever, albeit a tad buzzed from the champagne.

“Fuck a duck!” Robin shouts, colliding with part of the doorway as she takes the corner to quickly in her haste to get to you, having heard your voice from down the hall. She trips falling into you in a quasi-hug that’s mostly all elbows jabbed into your ribs.

“Walk with dignity, you overgrown toddler,” You laugh sipping some champagne, wrapping your arm around her in a proper hug. She buries her face into your neck with a smile. “And before you even ask, no you cannot, under any circumstance, tell your emotional support Steve about this.”

You feel her frown before she pulls back from you, “I can keep a secret y’know.”

“I don’t doubt it Bucks, just wanna surprise him is all.”

“He has no idea? Oh shit, this is gonna be good.” She says with a cackle before trotting off to help Vickie with her dress.

“Alright Wheels,” You announce polishing off your flute of champagne, “Let me at it, where’s the hairspray?”

After furious coating of L’Oreal’s finest to her hair after you’d secured a few flowers in place, you cough in a haze of hairspray and sagely advise, “That’s good for three slow dances, two fast ones, and one Lambada…” You warn, capping the canister to set it aside. “But if you wanna mosh, I’d suggest another coat.”

Nancy laughs at the suggestion, “I think we’re good.” She checks your handiwork in the mirror with a smile, “Can I ask you something Trouble?”

“Shoot.”

She turns to face you and lowers her voice to a whisper while the other bridesmaids are busy with false eyelashes and zipping up dresses. “Have you given any thought to what I said back in May?”

Ah, that conversation. The one where she (lovingly) warned you off of Steve if you weren’t certain about your feelings for him. Your big, overwhelming feelings. As if you could forget them, even thousands of miles away.

“You know,” You begin, voice pitched to meet hers, “I had a bit of time to think over the summer, no distractions, just me and the Tuscan sun.”

She stands to slip into her dress and you follow to assist— it’s a beautiful number, all minimal sleek lines and fitted to her like a glove. Nancy is gorgeous, but Nancy on her wedding day is otherworldly. She dutifully turns for you to button up the back and arrange the train for photos.

“And?”

Your eyes meet in the mirror, hers curious but not prying, yours wide, reeling from it all— the pro/con lists, numerous conversations with your mom, Eddie, and Nance, the letters, emails, voice notes, calls and texts from Steve. Somehow, some way they all amounted to this:

“You remember my twenty-first birthday?”

“How could I forget,” She chuckles knowingly, “Spin the bottle, right?”

A nod, you busy yourself smoothing out the few lines in the silhouette of the dress. “And a bit of liquid courage.”

There is no good reason why the eight of you should be doing this. Back at the loft after a night of carousing and bar-hopping, imbibed enough complimentary birthday drinks that spin the bottle seemed like a good idea. Even if the bottle in question is some ridiculously expensive high-roller shit swiped from Mr. Harrington’s study.

You’re warm, leaning on Eddie’s shoulder and whispering in his ear— goading him about kissing someone. Steve hopes it’s not you.

The glass mouth of the bottle spins to a stop in front of Jonathan who groans loudly before clambering over the whoops and hollers.

“Lay it on ‘im Munson!”

You tip backwards and shriek in glee when their lips touch. Eddie returns to your side with a roll of his eyes, pokes your knee with his finger. “Pucker up, buttercup. You’re next.”

Argyle cracks his knuckles, taps his chin thoughtfully, “Alright chica.” He says, “Hope you get Nance or Vic. Make it nice and steamy up in here.”

Steve hopes it’s him and not Nancy, selfishly. The rest of them be damned, if the bottle lands on him he’s going to frog-leap over Eddie, shove him to the side and kiss you good. If it lands on anyone else, he may get arrested for murder tonight.

There’s really no excuse for it— the longing. Best friends since childhood who drifted apart because, as always, he was a dumbass. Kissed you all of one time after the Homecoming dance freshman year and that was barely a peck.

The bottle lands on Vickie.

Slightly tipsy and putting on a show, you bite your bottom lip and lean in, slanting your mouth over hers with a soft sigh. The sound sinks into Steve’s gut and he groans in agony— jealous you’d rather kiss his ex or the redhead rather than him. Nevermind that the bottle was nowhere near landing on him.

“Keep it PG, ladies!” Robin calls, “This is taking way too long!”

“Bucks, shut up. I’m trying to take a video.” Nancy slaps the phone from Eddie’s hand.

Having had enough of it all, Steve stands. “Not that this isn’t how I want to spend my night…” he mumbles, hands patting his thighs. “But I’m peacing out.”

You look up, distracted, and bottom lip a little wet from Vickie, eyes hazy from the long night of celebrating, and quirk your head. “You leavin’, Stevie? Wan’ me to walk you?”

“What— like he’s gonna get lost from here to his room?”

Steve is going to get arrested tonight for murdering Eddie. Tries to keep his cool, regardless.

“S’okay birthday girl, I’ll be fine. You have fun.”

You hop up anyway, a bit blundering in your step, and grab his hand to yank him forward. “C’mon… I gotcha.” Fortified with liquor, you tug him along, turning a corner and chattering about how as much as you appreciate that expensive whiskey, you’d rather have a beer. There’s nothing better than some pretzels, beer, and a movie.

“Oh, uh, s-sorry.” Your hand loosens before you pull it away, self-consciously.

“For what?”

“I know we haven’t been, like, close for a while now. I didn’t mean to grab you like that.”

Oh. The realization dawns on him now, like a crash of lightning— you think he’s guarded… but he’s only been reserved for your sake.

He calls your name, followed by a murmured, “C’mere for a second.”

You lean against his bedroom door, dazed but curious. Steve steps forward until you’re nearly chest to chest, back against the wood. Your mouth opens with a nearly inaudible gasp, but he can see your pulse kick up in your throat. “Yeah?”

"You remember our first kiss?" He waits for you to nod before continuing. "I think I owe you a do-over."

Confusion flits across your face, a solitary brow quirked up in interest. "You wanna mulligan my first kiss, like... seven years after the fact?"

He ducks his chin in embarrassment, skin flushing with heat. "Yeah, I mean, if you're open to it?" He scratches the back of his neck and mumbles, "I just think you deserve better."

You bite your lip in thought, and Steve wants nothing more than to shrivel up and die— but then, you nod, and before he can think better of it, he takes his chance.

Purposefully, Steve tilts your face up fingers, trailing along your chin and jaw, thumbing the full of your bottom lip. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, all whooshes and erratic beats, almost enough to drown out the words that fall from his lips.

And then, the perfect genius that is Steve Harrington leans down to close the distance between you. Satisfied that your face is tilted just so, his hand sweeps back your hair to cradle your head as his lips descend to yours.

He kisses you like he’s got all the time in world— like it isn’t past three in the morning and you’re about a minute from slipping under. He kisses lazy, slow, and sublime. Presses you closer to him, an arm winding around your waist to pull you from the wall. More, kissing—tongues and lips and teeth— more of that touch you’ve only dreamed about and you want to kick yourself for missing it, for even daring to fantasize when the real thing is so much more.

Your palms are on his chest, pawing at him for leverage, struggling to refrain from bucking your hips up into him like you so desperately want to do. Steve pulls back with a contented sigh, and you’re surprised there isn’t a string of saliva strung between the pair of your for all the swapping spit that just occurred. There’s nothing but you and him. His gaze, so tentative and sweet, meets yours briefly as he stands back hands shoved quickly into his pockets.

“I meant something like that.”

Your mouth tugs at a corner, as if you could laugh or cry. Or smile.

Steve lets out a breathy chuckle, brandishes a small, hopeful smile, and runs a hand through his hair.

You nod. And it’s enough.

“I–I think I’ve known for a while.” You admit sheepishly, looking for any last-minute adjustments that need to be made before the precessional. One hand grasping her train, you follow Nancy toward the door. Taking a shaky breath in, you say, "Guess some part of me has been in love with him since I fell off the fence and into his backyard that first summer."

She stops short and turns back to you elated because she knows the story all too well. Steve doesn't get drunk enough to talk about it often–- the man has a wooden leg, hand to god. But once in a blue moon, it'll happen: how the new neighbor's daughter nearly busted her ass sneaking back home way after her curfew, too buzzed on shitty wine coolers and reeking of weed to realize that she'd fallen on the wrong side of the fence.

Hastily, Robin thrusts a bouquet of flowers into Nancy’s hand. Just before the band starts up, Nancy gives your hand a squeeze and advises, “Sometimes what’s meant for you comes back, Trouble. Don’t let it slip by, okay?”

Steve is just looking to survive the day, he’ll be grateful to get through, honestly.

He was beyond bummed you couldn’t be there for Nance’s wedding and that he’d be sitting with her cousin instead— she’d talked his ear off during the rehearsal dinner last night about her current rewatch of Sex and The City. He’d never been so relieved to be pulled into bridal party duties by Eddie than he was that night.

And, to top it off, you weren’t answering your phone. Logically, he knew you’d be in exams for most of the day but you normally sent him a text or voice note once you woke up or before you made it to class for the day.

He’s pathetic. Eddie forced him to leave his phone in the groom’s suite and now he feels phantom vibrations from something that isn’t even in his pocket. Heaving a sigh, he lines up ready to escort Vickie and mentally preparing himself for a detailed recounting of the havoc that Samantha’s absence has caused the SATC franchise from the Wheeler cousin.

“You know,” A lazy, familiar voice drawls to his right, “If I was a riptide, I wouldn’t take you out.” An arm loops through his, comfortable and intimate.

But no— it couldn’t possibly be…

“Hey, Harrington.” You say, quietly, knocking your hips to his, casually holding a bouquet in your hand, all easy smiles and warm touches. When Steve finally does turn, he blinks a few times to confirm that you're not some hallucination.

Because you’re here, impossibly, you’re home, and everything is finally right in the world.

You reach over to straighten his tie, the alexandrite ring gleaming on your right hand and catching the light.

“How did you—” He stammers, bereft of language.

But then there’s that smirk he adores. “Some of us are stealthy, y’know. Like a ninja.”

“Oh, fuck me right in the mouth.” He laughs loud and bright, a few people turn back in their chairs to look.

You sputter briefly as the precessional begins, hand lighting on his arm with a gentle squeeze. “Uh, that can certainly be arranged, Harrington.”

In that moment he knew, with a certain sense of finality, that he had no choice but to love you; all his love and, if he’s being honest, fear, reflected there in your eyes.

The ceremony is beautiful, of course, and the reception is now in full swing. The new Mr. and Mrs. Byers shared an adorable first dance to “At Last” by Ella Fitzgerald, which nearly had you tearing up before Steve twirled you out onto the dancefloor.

“Hey, good lookin’,” He says with a smile so sweet, it almost makes you weak in the knees.

It’s a slow song, something to get the couples up and out of their seats. Over his shoulder you spy Robin and Vickie making goony eyes at eachother while Eddie and Argyle stumble around both trying to lead the other— idiots.

“Hi, Steve.” You reply, eyes making their way back to him. “Y’know, they say you should never trust a man who can dance.”

“And why’s that, honey?”

You shrug, “Dunno. Apparently they’re all heartbreakers or something.”

Steve, thanks to his mother’s needling and his father’s need to keep up appearances, could dance. He’d escorted many a debutante, including yourself, during Cotillion. You can still hear Savannah’s nasally “Did you know that five out of six debs marry their escorts?”

But, then again, she was also drinking from the fun flask at the ripe age of sixteen. So, do with that what you will.

He spins you easily, like it’s nothing, and before you know it you’re back in his arms. His brow is furrowed in thought, but what he could possibly be thinking you hadn’t a clue. So you continue to follow his lead across the dance floor and silently thank Mrs. Harrington for forcing you and Steve into those dance classes way back when, even if he stepped on your toes and you retaliated with an accidental elbow to his ribs— knock-kneed teens the pair of you.

So much has changed since then.

The music pauses, as someone announces that the bride will toss the bouquet. You go to find the bar, but Steve promises he’ll come back with a drink for you instead and then Eddie is hustling you toward the crowd of “single ladies.”

“Eds, no.” You attempt to swat him away, but he’s having none of it.

“Far as I know, you and Harrington are fuck buddies. No declarations,” His eyes fall to your left hand, “No ring. Beyoncé would insist, sugar.”

You’ve always had a sixth sense about things. When you were younger, your family and friends often thought it was an ability— but in truth, it’s just a mixture of careful perception, logical thinking, and educated guessing.

But not even your sixth sense could explain how you’d ended up catching the bouquet. Especially with a vodka and tonic in one hand and standing at the rear of the gaggle of gals gathered for the event. Didn’t even want to take part, far more interested in finding the coat check room and seeing how long it would take Steve to blow his load once you finally got your mouth on him.

So it’s a surprise, either luck or Nance’s killer aim, when her bouquet lands in your hand, the ribbon wrapped stems falling neatly into your palm just as you turn to shout something at Eddie behind you. Catching Steve’s knowing smirk and hearing Eddie’s piercing wolf-whistle, you give him an exaggerated wink before tossing back your drink.

It’s not long after that, a few more spins around the dance floor, some cake, and more liquor, tasteful toasts from you and Argyle, fond farewells to the newlyweds and bags thrown into cars for a quick getaway, that Steve tosses you— bouquet in hand, over his shoulder and dips out of there. Ignoring Eddie’s teasing of Irish exits and Irish twins, he sets you on your feet again to lean you against the car and kisses you positively stupid.

But it’s not a surprise when Steve finally asks you the question he’s been dying to for nearly the entire summer on the drive home, Nancy’s bouquet resting against the dash as you toe off your heels.

“Hey mind-reader, how long did it take?”

“Hmm?” Pleasantly sleepy from jet lag, your mind struggles to spark a fuse of comprehension. Steve raises a solitary brow in interest.

"Whaddya mean?" You mumble out between stifled yawns.

His hand rests on your leg while he drives, big and warm, his fingers fiddling with the fabric of your dress. Steve, bless him, won't press you on it, but he also wouldn't have asked something so casually for no reason. He's crafty like a fox when he wants to be.

You take a breath and let yourself really think about it. If you’re taking the question seriously, which you damn well should, he deserves an explanation. Hesitantly, you remind Steve of the near fiasco with the wedding dress back at your old place. He nods at your rambling, how guilty and scared you felt at shutting him out.

“So, yeah, between the moving-in playlist and me being bat-shit terrified of you seeing me in a wedding dress,” You summarize, fingers finding their way to his once more. The warm glow of the streetlights cast shafts of light through the windows. “You’re about as subtle as a brick through a window, Steve Harrington," You conclude with a smirk.

His eyes widen in realization, “Oh, so that’s what you were apologizing for before left for Joshua Tree.” An annoyed sigh before a sharp inhale takes its place. “You’re so stupid.”

Back at the loft, fumbling hands in elevators lips spit slick and ruddied, Steve bats away your grabby hands with an exasperated huff as they light upon his chest. Nearly dropping his keys when they find a better way to occupy themselves.

Once inside, he presses his face into your neck, kissing hungrily, anywhere he can, down to your collarbones and chest and then he’s lifting you up by the thighs, kicking the door close, and instinctively pulling everything off.

He peels his shirt off and throws it onto the floor while you shimmy out of your dress. His mouth hasn’t left yours for anything other than to breathe.

His hands stop at the curve of your hips. The room is spinning— the entire world moving too fast in a feverish haze. Years of close-quartered friendship and the first intimate touches in months have jumped right into the deep end. You don’t even know when the two of you made way back into his room, but the door clicks shut with a kick from his foot.

“Hey, mind-reader, I got two questions for you,” Steve calls teasingly. “First, how big did you think I was, y'know before? When you accused me of, how did you put it... harboring a fugitive?”

Your brain briefly short-circuits at that, mildly embarrassed. He laughs at your slow, owlish blinks while you formulate a response other than, "Well, I, uh..."

"Okay, okay," He drops a kiss to your brow, soothing your worries away, “Second…”

You gulp. Your legs feel like jelly— all the smart words in the entire world wiped completely from existence. The pause he takes is punishingly long and the grin he gives you nearly makes you faint.

His pants are shucked somewhere near the bedroom door. One of your hands goes into his hair, other guiding him between your legs where you smear all over his fingers.

"S'been a while, do you think you can take it?”

“Oh,” A smirk quirks your lips, hand scrabbling for purchase on his tanned skin, “I think you know I can.”

Later, after frenzied forays in tangled sheets and revelling in the afterglow, you place your hand over his chest, selfishly counting his heartbeats.

You breathe, soft and sweet, “Steve,” the sound of your voice a warm balm in the inky dark. “Steve,” You say again and kiss his neck, turning toward you on the rumpled bed he kisses you, as if he could ever get enough.

“I love you.”

He pulls back, just enough so that you wrap your leg around his hips, sheet slipping off as his fingers trail up your thigh. Grazing the tip of his nose ever so lightly against your temple, you feel the rumble of laughter through his chest as it heaves against yours.

Rolls you onto your back, legs falling open to cradle his hips while he holds himself above you, hair falling into his face, “Took you long enough,” he grins, kissing you again. Your cheeks, your jaw, your chin. “I love you too, honey.”

His love is heavy and you delight in the gravity of it as he slips his way back inside, your hands pulling him closer than anyone can ever or will ever get again. It feels fated— the way your body moves and his responds in kind.

Steve only keens your name in reply.

Spun clear out of your body in the haze, pure joy erupts from your mouth, hands scrambling for him, so woozy and giddy you can’t help it.

So this is love, after all.

Finis.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #stranger things fan fiction #modern!steve #teacher!steve #the kids aren't alright - rosewateverandivy #Spotify

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thedyingwriter · 1 year

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ok so hear me out. I have this feeling that as time passes steve's fashion sense evolves and he starts experimenting with colors and fabrics. around the present time or maybe let's say in the 2010-2020 decade when he's older and gay marriage is legal and he's finally able to openly express his sexuality and enjoy dates with eddie he dresses more boldly and tries to express his sexuality through his clothing. for some reason I don't know why i can imagine him having some kind of a similar style to present day harry styles. lots of pinks and pastels and rainbows, extra baggy jeans, cardigans, pearl necklace (i can really see him with pearls as a signature look) or any kind of accessories, frills and lace.

and since we all love the rockstar!eddie x teacher!steve trope so much it would be really funny to imagine the internet going crazy after finding out their favorite metal head who literally can't wear anything except black is married to a middle school teacher who dresses like harry styles.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #st4 #robin buckley #Nancy Wheeler #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x reader #fruity four #harry styles #steddie au #steddie x reader #joe keery #joey quinn #rockstar eddie munson #teacher steve harrington

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gravedigginbbydoll · 1 year

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pencil shavings and shared smiles {pt.2}

Fem! Teacher Reader x Teacher! Eddie

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AN: I’m honestly so grateful to find people who enjoy my writing :) This started as a bit of fun aside from my current WIP that I’m DETERMINED to not immediately trash, so I wanted to practice some writing on the side, and hey, it’s been a while since I’ve done fanfiction (like, over 6 years…. I think my last fanfic was at age 16! I'm now 23.) so I figured why not? Anyways, I hope you enjoy this next bit (I’ll be honest, I was struggling with it, but the next chapters will be better, I swear!) I don’t have an exact plan for how many parts this will be, but I’m excited to see where it’s headed!

WARNINGS AND CONTENT: Minors DNI!!!, Noncanon, Hawkins AU, Normal Hawkins, Rumors about Eddie, Eventual Smut, Very fluffy, Outcasts and Bullying, Mentions of Loneliness, Flirting, Fem!Reader, use of Y/N, older! Eddie, short-haired Eddie, 1995/1996 Hawkins, F! Reader has a dark past, angst.

Summary: You settle into Hawkins, looking for a way to spruce up your place, and bump into a familiar face. You maybe even meet some new friends. Things are looking up.

The next few days following your encounter with Eddie, you throw yourself into trying to get settled in and getting to know the town. You had been there for a few days before coming to the school but still had boxes piled high and needed some items.

You focused on moving all the boxes into their designated spaces. But then, you realized you didn’t have much when it came down to it. You had work clothes, plates and bowls, cutlery, basic toiletries, cleaning supplies, and three makeup items.

In your rush to leave the city, you left so much behind you hadn’t realized. As a result, your apartment looks abandoned in its barren state, and the hideous peeling pink floral wallpaper from the 70s makes your skin crawl.

That’s what led you to this moment. A shopping spree throughout Hawkins. You’re determined to make the “blink, and you miss it” town feel cozy and like home. It is home now, after all. Though you may need a blanket to cover the ugly cracked green leather couch that came with the place.

You’re piling up blankets, knick-knacks, and even plants to busy the place. By the time you get to the antique store, you’re sure you’ve burned a hole in your savings. You look around, admiring old furniture with history you wish you knew. You see a large wooden bookshelf, probably older than you, and bite your lip, picturing the perfect reading nook in your large window, a chair with too many pillows, and a table to set your favorite cup of coffee on. You did just buy some new mugs, after all.

In your daydreaming, you barely notice the presence creeping toward you.

“As lovely as that little vintage piece is, I heard it’s haunted.”

You jump a bit, startled by the sudden speaking. When you turn, you feel that familiar creeping of heat across your skin, your stomach twists with nerves while your heart thumps a loud, steady beat. Eddie. He’s wearing a super distressed band shirt with the sleeves cut off, his slightly muscular inked biceps on display. Your thighs tighten at the display, and you mentally scold yourself.

Now is not the time! Get a hold of yourself.

His brown eyes twinkle with mischief as he tilts his head at you, sticking his thumbs in his jeans pockets. You are instantly reminded of a puppy and feel your insides practically melt. Your heart is thumping embarrassingly loud. You hope to god the cute metalhead in front of you doesn’t somehow have super senses.

“You redecorating?”

You shrug, a shy smile gracing your lips. “You could say that, I guess.”

He nods and looks back at the bookcase with intrigue. His expression is thoughtful yet almost solemn as he speaks softly, his words barely reaching you. “Seriously though, that bookcase is bad luck. Belonged to a notorious killer. Henry Creel. Killed his whole family when he was like 9.”

You feel a chill go up your spine, the sense of fear deep in your belly. But, of course, you knew the old trope of sleepy towns never really being sleepy. Still, the last thing you would’ve guessed to happen in Hawkins was premeditated murder. You peek over at Eddie, who looks at you; his eyes are almost sorrowful as he rubs your shoulder comfortingly. You feel an electric current shoot through you at his touch, and goosebumps shoot up your neck. A flutter in your stomach reminds you that you are far too emotional about this man, despite barely knowing him.

“Sorry,” He rasps. “I sometimes ramble and forget what I’m saying. I didn’t mean to spook you. It was ages ago. He’s in jail now.” He pulls away his warm touch, and you almost find yourself leaning back for more.

You shake your head. “It’s fine. Everyone has skeletons in the closet, don’t they?” You remark jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Eddie’s eyes don’t sparkle as they usually do, and he looks a bit more guarded as he smiles softly. “Yeah.”

You feel a tug at your heart and remember the encounter between the grouchy bookstore owner and Eddie. It’s clear he has a past, but you won’t bring it up. After all, you’re the last person who should be digging through someone’s history.

“Hey, so a few friends and I are headed to a bar called The Hideout; tonight to bid adieu to summer. I was just wondering…if you’d like to join?” Eddie says shyly, scratching the back of his neck as his cheeks flush. “Of course, I understand if not; I just figured since you’re new here, it may help you get more acclimated and maybe even meet some people-”

You cut off his rambling with a hand, your lips fighting the urge to smile so vast your jaw may break. “Eddie, I’d love to. What time?”

He grins, his signature dimples appearing and making your stomach flutter. “Great. Around 7 pm tonight. First drink on me.”

You feel your cheeks heat once again as you nod, tucking some hair behind your ear. “Can’t wait.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later on in the evening, you are stressed and pacing. You remember dancing and singing to calm anxiety as a young teen and get the bright idea to turn on the radio to your favorite rock station.

Now, you're dancing around your living room as You Oughta Know by Alanis Morrisette plays on your radio. You’re dressed in a black slip dress, the satin fabric accentuating your figure. Maybe you’re dressed a little too nice for a bar. Who cares? Dr. Martens on your feet create a more casual look but also possibly causes a noise complaint from your neighbors as you stomp and sing, applying makeup.

“AND I’M HERE! TO REMIND YOU! OF THE MESS YOU LEFT WHEN YOU WENT AWAY!”

You scream into your hairbrush, jumping around.

The singing calms your nerves a bit, and by the end of the song, you’re panting and thinking maybe you should try to hit the gym more.

You glance at the clock and realize the time is flashing a red and angry 7:30 pm.

“Shit shit shit shit shit!” You scramble, tripping over your feet, quickly putting on earrings and a choker, trying to rush out the door.

Fucking Alanis Morissette.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You arrive at the bar, hoping to pass off as fashionably late. You look around before spotting Eddie, his back to you in a well-loved leather jacket. He’s at a booth with some friends, a dark stout in his hand.

You tremble slightly as you walk over, your body thrumming with nervousness, and tap him on the shoulder. He turns, lighting up the minute he sees you. “Hey! You made it! Come on and sit down.”

You feel embarrassment sink into your skin, hands nervously fiddling as you sit beside him. He introduces the rest of the table, practically making your head spin. There’s Nancy, a petite and beautiful brunette who works as a Chief Editor for the local paper. Steve, a handsome man with an impressive head of hair, works as a coach at Hawkins Middle and High Schools. Robin a talkative and nervous blonde who works as a band teacher at Hawkins High. According to Eddie, this wasn’t everyone in their circle, just the ones he could fit in a booth. You laugh, nerves wracking your stomach as you hope to make a good impression.

A few minutes in, you’re laughing and practically snorting at a story Steve is telling about Eddie accidentally flashing everyone in a Romeo and Juliet drama production, where he insisted to the drama teacher that they swap the actors and actresses. Eddie had been playing a side character, a plain maiden, when he tripped over his dress and - “Absolutely ate shit! He landed with his head between his legs, and everyone could see his Garfield boxers!”

You can’t stop laughing at the image of a smaller and younger Eddie, his loud personality causing so much chaos on the stage. You were glad he had gone to buy your drink, seeing as you had laughed so hard you were sure tears had fallen from your eyes. You wiped your eyes and sighed, taking a breath in.

Eddie returned at that exact moment with your drink, settling it down while playfully glaring at Steve. “Harrington, you better not be talking shit.”

Steve flicks a paper straw wrapper at Eddie and scoffs. “Can it, Munson. I could kick your ass any day.”

Eddie immediately leaps into action and pulls Steve into a headlock, tousling his hair while laughing. Steve yells, trying to fight off the taller man and protect his hair. Robin laughs and rolls her eyes while Nancy softly smiles, shaking her head.

“Knock it off, you two. You’re letting on that you’re both children way too early. I need new friends,” Robin whines, covering her face in embarrassment.

You feel sheepish, smiling. You’re not used to the attention. Not this much, anyway. But you’re having fun. Eddie’s friends are vibrant, loud, and the most genuine people you’ve ever met.

Eddie lets Steve go, Steve grumbling about his hair and sitting back next to Robin, who smirks at him while she messes his hair up even more. Eddie then takes his spot next to you, sliding in, and due to the small booth, your thighs touch. You can’t help but feel warmth creeping across your insides from the alcohol and Eddie’s clothed leg pressing against yours, which is bare. You ignore the heat pooling between your thighs at the contact and the ever-so-sinful thoughts about his ringed and masculine hands.

Eddie leans over to you, his blinding grin causing your stomach to join in on the anatomy shuffle currently happening in your body, fluttering to the point that you think you may have swallowed a bird.

“Sorry if we’re a bit much. But, now you’ll have a few familiar faces, right?”

You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. Thanks, Eddie.”

He nods, and you almost swear you see his eyes dart toward your lips before he turns back towards the group, all arguing about what the next movie night should be. You feel your heart skip a beat. You can’t help but be grateful for this introduction and even the awkwardness it brought. You now felt a little less of a stranger in Hawkins. A sense of relief rushes through you. Maybe, things won’t have to be so lonely.

Eddie interrupts your thoughts once more when he leans over towards you. You almost feel drunk on the scent of tobacco, vanilla, rum, and something spicy like cloves and cinnamon. Your thighs tighten, and you curse your brain for instantly thinking dirty thoughts. You’re in no state to have a physical or romantic relationship. Your throat tightens as you push down the ideas and look at Eddie.

“Hey, so we're goin' to hang out at the Palace Arcade. It’s usually super packed, but tonight they’re having a party there, so no one under 21. You wanna join?” His eyes sparkle with mischief and something you may be misreading as hope.

You bite your lip, thinking that maybe you’re too deep and should head to the comfort and quiet of home. You haven’t been to an arcade in years. Much less a party. Sour memories threaten to come up, but you push them down and set your resolve. You are just a woman in her mid-twenties trying to have fun. You deserve that, at least. Even if it’s really a lie.

You smile at Eddie, nodding. “Sure, I’ll tag along. I haven’t been to an arcade in years.”

Eddie grins, his dimples flashing. “Great. You can meet the band.”

You perk up, looking at Eddie quizzically. “Band?”

He nods but puts his finger to his lips and winks, signifying it’s a secret. You furrow your brows and feel your stomach flutter as the ever prominent question wracks your brain again.

Who the hell is this man?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @bebe07011 @corrodedcoffincumslut @kurdtbean @nerdflash

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson x y/n #pencils shavings and shared smiles #teacher! eddie #teacher! em #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #eddie munson au

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munsons-hellfire · 1 year

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Chapter 1: New Beginnings

SUMMARY: You moved back to Hawkins for a fresh start, but meeting your brothers biker gang takes things for an interesting loop especially when your trying to escape the past you want to leave behind.

PAIRINGS: Biker!Eddie Munson x Teacher!Fem!Reader

PART 1 IN THE DARK PARADISE SERIES

CONTENT WARNINGS: SFW, Biker!Eddie Munson, Teacher!Reader, no use of y/n, modern take (thought a modern setting best fit the plot), implied pet names (sweetheart, princess), bug is used as a name, she her pronouns but barley used, Reader is 24 (turning 25 soon), Eddie is 26, post-upside down, vecna is defeated (will be mentioned in later parts)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so this is actually for sure my first series here on Tumblr. I am looking forward to the later parts. I got this idea when I was reading a short story about a biker and a girl. I then got a thought about Eddie as a biker and well I shared it with funsonmunson-again. I hadn't seen anything with this type of idea but I definitely thought it would be cool to write. I can't wait to build the relationship between Eddie and Reader as I get further through the series. Please let me know what you think and what you might want to see as we get further into it. This is also a modern take because I when I pictured it I just saw it taking place in our time. The canon events of the show do happen but they defeat Vecna and close all the gates. The other members of the show will be in this series, most will come in later on. Also I decided to go with a teacher!reader because my mom herself is a teacher and I think they are important so I wanted a chance to write something where the reader was a teacher.

WORD COUNT: 3.2K Words

THE DARK PARADISE SERIES MASTERLIST

Hawkins Indiana had always been your home since you could remember. But when your parents divorced and your mom moved out of the state you and your brother had to go live with your mom. Eventually your brother moved back with your father and you visited them whenever you were allowed too.

Now heading into adulthood you were standing in front of the apartment you had just rented out. It would be your home for the next few months, at least that's what you hoped. Things had gone sideways with your job back home, not to mention you weren't a fan of your new stepdad your mother had married.

The man wasn't the nicest man in the world but more so to you. He made your life a living hell and you couldn't live with him or your mother anymore, even when considering the fact that she wouldn't put her foot down. In hindsight you probably should've just moved back in with your dad and brother long before your mother had married your step father.

You could see the red flags that so clearly flew around his face but in the beginning you simply wanted to ignore it because you were going to school to be a teacher. Now that you had graduated with your masters degree there was nothing really holding you back and that included your mother.

When you FaceTimed with your older brother after graduating and told him that you had saved enough money up, that you wanted to move out of your mothers house, that you wanted to leave everything you had in New York and come back to Indiana where they lived. And your brother had the most simplistic answer to it all.

"Then if that's what your heart and mind is telling you, then come back to Hawkins. I wouldn't mind having my sister by my side and dad would love to see you again."

After Sam had mentioned those words to you, you gave him a bright smile and a quick nod. That night you began packing your belongings. You and your brother had discussed where you could live, he had pointed out the safest apartments in Hawkins. You filled up your car until none of your personal belongings were left in your mothers house.

The downside to starting over meant that you had to get new furniture, but you were lucky considering you had saved enough money for an apartment and new things as well. You had planned this out well before you brought it up to Sam. Without saying goodbye to your mother or step father you left New York and drove back home.

It took you 11 hours to drive from New York to Indiana. You had made a few stops along the way but it hadn't impacted your time on the road much. You had already rented out an apartment that wasn't far from where your brother and dad lived. They still lived with each other so it would make it easier if you wanted to do something with them.

Along the drive down to Hawkins your brother had called you and told you that a few of his friends would be helping you move your boxes from your car into your apartment. And then they would help with anything heavier once it was bought. For the first few nights you would be sleeping on an air mattress which didn't really bother you.

It would do until you could go out and get a bed. You had arrived just before nightfall, the sun was setting in the distance. It made a pretty view and one that you didn't know you missed until you moved back to Hawkins. You had just gotten your key to your apartment and were waiting for brother and dad to arrive along with a few of Sam's friends.

Your dad was actually the first to arrive, he pulled his truck up next to your four door Sedan. It was blue, one of your top three favorite colors. Looking down at your phone you saw a text from Sam saying that they would be there shortly. Placing your phone in the back of your pants pocket you walked towards your dad's truck as he climbed out and shut the door.

"There's my sweet baby!" Your dad said excitedly, with the brightest happiest smile plastered onto his lips.

"Hi, dad!" You spoke. Soon enough his arms were encased around your body as he pulled you in for a tight hug, one that you hadn't felt in a few years. "I missed you." You mumbled into his chest, with your eyes closed.

"Aw, I missed you too, princess." Your dad had no shame in calling you any kind of pet name. But you had and always would be his little princess. "I'm glad you're here now."

"Me too, dad." You pulled back from the hug and stared up at your father. He was still holding the smile on his lips as he continued to look down at you.

"How's your mother doing?" Allen questioned, his face had become serious but it was clear to you that sometimes it still hurt to talk about his ex-wife. He thought your mother was the love of his life and he thought he was hers. Though to you it seemed that your mother never really loved your father and she was just taking him along for the joy ride because they had Sam and then 2 years later had you.

"She's fine, she's with her boy toy. They're so perfect for each other it's disgusting. I had to get out of there before things got worse."

Your dad raised an eyebrow at the way you had mentioned that last sentence. "He didn't try to hurt you or anything like that did he?"

"No, god, no. He was just an ass who only cared about mom and wanted to make my life a living hell because I was a 24 year old still living with her mother. I'm just happy that I'll be starting out year 25 in my own apartment with a teaching job and I'll be closer to my dad and brother again." You tried your hardest to smile, but you knew your dad was picking up on the pain that was leaving your voice.

"If there's one thing in life I regret its that I didn't fight hard enough to get custody over you so you could live with your brother and I."

"It's okay, dad. Mom didn't want the responsibility of taking care of Sam because he was a troublemaker and difficult for her to work with. Apparently I was just easy for her."

"Hey, don't sell yourself short because your mother did. I'm so proud of the things you've accomplished in this past year alone and I can't wait to see what you'll do in the future, and I can't wait to see the impact you'll have in those kids' lives when you start teaching."

"Thank you dad." You smiled again, in the distance bikes could be heard which meant that your brother was now here. It was no secret that your brother was part of a biker club, you didn't have anything negative to say about it simply because the one he was a part of did a lot of good things not only for the community in Hawkins but surrounding communities as well.

"Your brother's here, let's get moving." Your dad walked towards your car and opened up your back door to start with that. Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Pulling it out you looked down to see a contact that you were trying to avoid at all cost and it wasn't your mother. After you find a teaching position you planned to get a new phone number so your ex could stop calling you.

You had gone the distance and blocked her from all social media that you did have, but you weren't too worried about it considering you felt you didn't have time to be on it. But you weren't so sure that would be enough of a cause for her to stop trying to contact you. She seemed to be a force to be reckoned with and she made your life far worse than the things your step father had said to you.

You only wished you had seen just who she truly was before it had gone down the wrong path. But you knew that maybe just maybe Hawkins could truly be the fresh start that you desperately needed. You looked away from your phone seeing your brother and a few of his friends pulling up next to your father's truck. Putting on a tight lipped smile you locked your phone and shoved it back in your pocket.

"Sam." You called out walking over to him as he pulled his helmet off his head. His brown hair fell from the helmet and you could instantly see the smile that fell onto his lips and how his eyes brightened when you called his name. He climbed off his bike and walked over to you pulling you in for a hug.

"I missed you so much, Bug." Sam said, you groaned at the nickname. Sam was never not going to call you Bug. When you were little you went through a very long phase and were obsessed with all kinds of bugs and had a lot of knowledge on them. You still to this day talk about certain bugs. But Sam started calling you Bug one day and never dropped it. Even sometimes the nickname would slip from your father's lips and your mother's lips.

"I missed you too," you pulled back from the hug as two of his friends walked over to you.

"I'd like you to meet some friends of mine. This is Steve Harrington, and Eddie Munson. Guys this is my sister, I like to call her Bug so I am giving you permission to call her that too." Sam smirked at you while you rolled your eyes.

"It's nice to finally meet you, I'm Steve. Sam here wouldn't shut up about his little sister coming back home." Steve said, as he shook your hand. You took in Steve's look, his hair was great, far better than what you had seen in New York. He had on tight jeans, with a polo shirt (which kind of shocked you to say the least), and he topped it off with a leather jacket, covered for the most part in patches.

On the front right side of the jacket rested the name of the club they were in. "The Wolves", seemed to fight the look they all had going on. Your brother talked about his biker club as much as you would let him so you knew most of the members without having to meet them.

"Oh, I'm sure. He's probably more excited about me being here than I am." You chuckled afterwards, then your eyes landed on the tall curly haired man who you assumed was Eddie Munson.

You were already swooning over the way his hair was styled, the bangs that rested over his forehead really seemed to fit his personality. Well, at least whatever you could pick up just from looking at him. After meeting your ex-girlfriend and learning more about her you started to get better at reading people which had been part of the reason why you started to see things you didn't see before you started dating.

Eddie was wearing ripped jeans that went with the black boots he had on his feet. Your eyes drifted to his shirt to see that he had been wearing a slightly worn out Metallica shirt. Like Steve he had been wearing a leather jacket as well. But most of the patches he had on his were on the denim jacket that rested over the leather jacket. The club logo rested on the right side as well and it was surrounded by band patches and pins.

It really helped complete his look and you couldn't keep your eyes off Eddie. Something he smirked at because he had noticed your face. Finally your hand found its way to Eddie's and the two of you shook hands. He hadn't said anything to you yet, but you were sure you felt a jolt of electricity run through your hand. And for a moment you were almost certain that he had felt the same thing, especially when you had looked into his soft brown eyes.

"It's very nice to meet you, Bug." Eddie said, with a gentle smile following behind his words.

"Come on, boys, we don't got all night." Allen called out to the three.

You and Eddie removed your hands from each other. You walked back towards your car, and opened the door. Just as you started to reach for one of your boxes you had packed your phone buzzed again in your pocket. Only this time it was a simple buzz indicating that you had received a text message from someone.

With an exhale you let go of the box holding it up by your leg. Eddie watched from the other side of your car as you pulled your phone out to look at who had texted you. You thought that maybe there was a chance it would be your mom asking where you had gone. As you unlocked your phone, you felt your blood run cold when you stared directly at the message.

It read, "I'm going to find you, and you're coming back home with me." You had an annoyed look on your face that mixed with anger and fear. Eddie was still staring at you while you looked down at the phone, he could tell just by your posture and facial expression that something was off. You knew that most likely you were going to have to take this to court eventually. Which is something you didn't want to do, in all honesty that was the last thing you wanted.

"Hey, you okay?" Eddie's voice ran through your ears and it suddenly felt comforting to hear his voice again. You looked up from your phone and placed your eyes on him as he held onto one of your boxes. Somewhere in between he had managed to pull his curly locks back into a low bun so his hair was out of the way.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay." You knew it was a lie because you were in fact not okay. But you didn't feel as though you could tell him let alone your brother or dad. The idea of telling anyone what was actually going on made you feel like you were being a burden to them. You didn't want to bother them with your problems because you knew you could solve them on your own.

Your brother and father couldn't know the real reason you had decided to up and leave your mother's house in the middle of the night. Sure you didn't like the way they talked to you but that was just a cover up for the simple fact that you were trying to escape another crazy ex, only this time it was your ex-girlfriend. She had made things a lot worse for you and more complicated than you wanted them to be.

Your ex was trying to make it clear to you that you were soulmates, but you disagreed with her time and time again. You weren't looking to settle down not yet anyway. You liked the idea of being in a relationship to a certain extent. Most of your relationships didn't last longer than 6 months at most. Though you had a thought that if something happened between you and Eddie he was going to be the one you married.

Well that's what you hoped for deep deep down. Eddie took notice once again of how lost in thought you had gotten. He wondered if this was an often occurrence or if it only happened in stressful situations like this one where you moved across the country. The metalhead could tell that something was definitely off, and it seemed whatever it was had to do with this move.

Eddie was going to make it his top priority that he figure out what it was that made you move back to your hometown, what made you decide to leave the city and head to a quiet town. He also knew one thing for certain, and it was that the second he laid his eyes on you that he wanted nothing more than to keep you safe from the horrors of the world; whatever they may be.

When Sam started talking about how you were thinking of moving back to Hawkins to be close to your dad and him, Eddie couldn't help but start to form a crush on you. The pictures that Sam had shown to him just didn't do enough justice. Your hair was longer than what it had been in the picture that had been taken. You had beautiful eyes that he felt that he could get lost in no matter what time of day.

And he thought that you looked super adorable in any type of clothes you'd wear. Right now you had jeans, and a pain blue t-shirt on, with a jacket covering your arms. You were also sporting a red pair of converse that looked a little to beat, like they had seen a lot of years. But the outfit looked really good on you. The only thing that Eddie really wanted to do was rip it off so he could see all of you.

Seeing you here now in front of him on the other side of your car, he knew there was no chance he'd be able to control himself around you. With a heavy sigh you shoved your phone back into your pocket and grabbed a hold of the box that rested on your leg. Before taking a step away from the car towards the apartment you stared up at it.

"I'm okay, I'll be okay. She can't do anything to me." You whispered to yourself, though Eddie had definitely heard you. It was enough for him to know that he was for sure going to keep you safe. He would just have to get more intel about why you were here and who you were running from so he could better prepare himself.

Eddie caught up with you as you walked towards your new apartment. You dreaded the future because of what could happen if your ex found where you had gone. But you also looked forward to it, you hoped Eddie might become something more than just your brother's friend. You already knew there was something about him that you liked and it wasn't because he was in the Wolves with your brother.

It had something to do with the spark that you had felt shoot through your hands. You weren't one to believe in all that lovey dovey crap but you could see something with Eddie, whether it ended up in a bad place or it ended up in a good place. You internally groaned knowing very well that this next year could either make or break you.

You weren't looking forward to all the possible outcomes of what could or might not happen. You only hoped that someone out there was watching over you. That there was someone out there helping to guide you in the direction you needed to go.

TAGS: @funsonmunson-again @inhumanssxx

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #biker!eddie munson #steve harrington #post-upside down #teacher!reader #reader insert #part 1 of many #part 1 #bikerlife #hawkins #biker!eddie munson x teacher!reader

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radioactiveparker · 1 year

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What I Go To School For - Steve Harrington X Teacher!Fem!Reader (Smut) *Sneak Peek*

Your lips parted ever so slightly as he leaned into you further. His chest was now flush against yours and your noses brushed gently. You closed your eyes as the mint from his breath was causing them to water, but still did nothing to pull away. If anything, you only brought him closer - resting your arms upon his strong bicep and fisting the sleeve of his shirt.

"Why don't we -erm- see what you know so far and -um- work from there." You managed to get out, feeling so pathetic for not being able to hide the effect he had on you.

"Yes, Ma'am." You had to physically prevent your eyes from rolling to the back of your head when he rasped in your ear.

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x teacher!reader #steve stranger things #stranger things #joe keery #joe keery smut

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amber-michaelson · 1 year

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Graduation

Part 4

Series MasterList

Music teacher Eddie Munson, Sport teacher Steve Harrington x student reader x Art teacher Billy Hargrove

Summary: a reward is in order for graduating with flying colours

Read at own risk

Warning: teacher x student

S/n school name

Laying on eddie's desk sipping a cheap beer "my parents are the worst they didn't even pitch to my graduation" I muttered as I turned my head to the side to see steve and billy sitting by the board as eddie was coming in from the hall "come on yn, we supposed to be celebrating" eddie laughed loudly as he sat next to me "plus that means you get to hang out with the big boys" he winked "hang out and do what tho" I murmured as i moved up so i was leaning on my elbows so i could watch all of them “well we could always reward you for being our favorite student” billy said as he got up and moved to me but stood closer to my leg so he could run his hand up and down from my leg all the way to the end of my exposed thigh, i shyly widened my legs for him “there you go” he smirked before pulling my skirt and undies off as eddie and steve silently watched “take your shirt and bra off” i only nodded in response and did as i was told discarding them on the floor i blushed as he moved around so he was standing infront of me and pulled me to him as if i weighed nothing, his hands slowly found their way to my pussy slightly teasing the lips before plunging in “fuck” i moaned out he was going gently he was going fast and hard i cried out throwing my head back “thats it” he growled as i started getting wet my moans and whines only making him go faster “oh fuck billy” i whined s my legs started shaking i looked at eddie then steve they both were looking at me with lust as they pumped their cocks “keep going billy, fuck she looks hot” steve laughed out as he cheered billy on “fuck fuck fuck” i moaned out as i cam i was to distracted to realize how close i was “that was fucking hot baby” eddie muttered stand up as they all came to me eddie and steve at my side with billy still infront they all took off their clothes “give us a hand job as he fucks you” steve said as he grabbed one of my hands and wrapped it around his cock i moved my other one to eddies before looking down to billy “ready” he asked and i mumbled a yes and watched with lust as he entered me and as he started to thrust i used his rhythm to jerk off the two cocks in my hand “thats it baby” eddie chuckled i stared up at them as they stared down at me with lust and hunger, billy started speeding up and so did i the room was starting to be filled with all our moans “fuck baby” eddie muttered thrusting into my hand “gonna cum” billy grunted before pulling out and cumming on my stomach he panted and leaned down kissing me before moving to set in the corner so he could have a show while resting eddie and steve looked at each other before nodding, i gasped as steve picked me up and layed me on one of the students table and positioned himself at my face and eddie by my thighs “baby your gonna suck him off while i fuck you ok” i eagerly nodded and opened my mouth and legs for them and arched my back as both of them thrusted in at the same time they both started moving and steve grabbed my tits groping and squeezing them “you feel like fucking heaven baby” eddie groaned as their pace started to quicken, my eyes drifted over to billy and shivered as he was staring at me intently not doing anything else but staring “of fuck she clenched” eddie yelled as he cam inside me filling me up i closed eyes and spasmed as i cam again causing steve to shoot his load down my throat “fucking hell” he growled and waited a few moments before pulling out i panted heavily and rested my head against the desk “come on yn” i quickly turned to billy “dont think we’re down yet” i gulped as their cocks got hard again ‘im not gonna walk tomorrow’.

Thee End

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retrodreamgirl · 2 years

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the games that play us | steve harrington x fem!reader

part 1 | part 2

summary: you're a kindergarten teacher at Hawkins Elementary and coincidentally steve harrington's little girl is a student in your class. there's a storm brewing, you meet wren's dad a second time, and wren and steve are having a hard day. we've got pumpkins and Steve Sheet™️ and french fries and tomatoes. plus! uncle eddie has a new friend and wren has some questions [wc: 10k]

warnings: fem!reader, teacher!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, light angst, slowburn, strangers to friends to lovers, single parent!steve, mentions of teen parent!steve, steve being the biggest girl dad, uncle eddie (he's so stinkin cute!), mentions of shitty parents (steve's), probably not proofed very well. lmk if i missed anything!

⤜♡→

“Ms. Y/l/n, guess what!” Wren lifts to her toes, hands fastened against the opening of her denim jacket. She’s been especially well behaved today, not that she ever puts a single toe beyond the line of acceptable, but you’ve been waiting for her bright smile to find you with an explanation since she skipped in this morning. Now that she has, you free your hands of chalky erasers and lean a tad so your hands brush the knees of your skirt and your eyes are level.

“What’s up, Wren?”

“My daddy’s coming to pick me up today!”

“Oh he is!? Is that what’s got you so excited?” She nods, her endless pigtails swaying in kind. You wonder if her dad is the one who fashioned them with the bright pink ribbons and the butterfly clips flattening her flyaways on either side. “Do you guys have fun plans after school today?”

After your formal introduction to Eddie, you brought him up in passing to one of the other teachers, Ms. Winters. She mentioned seeing the girl with him after school most days, along with an off comment about his commitment being a nice surprise. It was an odd take to you, the way Wren describes the affection she holds for her father and vice versa making it near impossible to believe he would be anything short of committed.

“Mmm, no. Today we have to go straight home so I can do my homework and clean my room.”

“A messy room huh?”

“I always keep it so clean, I promise!” She says it like the entirety of your relationship is dependent on the amount of clutter covering her bedroom floor. She wrings her hands, thinking a moment before explaining exactly why her room is messy, making sure you don’t think it’s entirely her fault. “I just made a bit of a mess picking my outfit last night and daddy was too tired to help me hang my clothes back so he said he’ll help me do it today.”

“Alright, well why don’t you finish cleaning up your toys so you’re all ready when your daddy gets here.”

She hops off, hands delicately swaying like the wind is carrying them alongside her, and you continue with the process of your own wind down.

Despite Wren’s good behavior the rest of the class did not act accordingly.

You’re positive it’s something in the water, a total of five students passing through timeout at various periods of the day. You’re not positive you’ll make it beyond the barrier of the school before you have to pull over and rest your head atop the steering wheel for a well deserved sob from pure exhaustion.

Over the next thirty minutes, you send students off with bus monitors and exchange pleasantries with those whose parents are always lingering in the hall, waiting for the slow crawl of their little one collecting their bags from their cubbies and saying last goodbyes to friends for the day. Each student’s pass to the door is a weight from your chest, not to say you don’t love their bright smiles and lively personalities, but you’re still growing used to the charge of a class of twenty children barely pushing six years old.

All the while, Wren sits at her desk, the one near the window overlooking the parking lot. You don’t miss the subtle shift in her demeanor, the way her shoulders seem to slowly dip and her head eventually lay against her arms along the table.

You’re fidgeting at your own desk, slowly sifting through the portraits you assigned for the day and dotting them all with an assortment of smiley face stickers. You hate to see the way her pupils widen a fraction every so often when a shadow shapes along the hall, then the way they deflate when she realizes it’s not her dad but another teacher leaving for the afternoon. The line is drawn completely when you see the way her lip wobbles at forty minutes past three.

“Hey, Wren, do you wanna have a snack with me?” Her eyes are glistening when she looks over at you, the sleeve of her jacket wiping at the wetness beginning to accumulate against her cheeks. “I have some yummy graham crackers with yogurt and I think I have an apple juice with your name on it!”

“Okay.” She says sighing, the breath catching in her throat with the words. You round your desk, the sharp clicks of your heels seeming too loud in the empty classroom. You’ve never noticed the loneliness of the whole thing, not until the happiest kid you know is crawling from her chair with an unusual cloud over her head. You offer your hand, and she rubs hers against her sleeve before accepting it.

“We just gotta make a quick trip to the teacher’s lounge so we’ll be back in time for your daddy.”

“He’s late.” You slow your pace when Wren trails behind, her feet dragging against the tile when you step past the threshold of the door. Her neck is craning toward the entrance, posters painting happy faces seeming to morph into a mocking scene when the glass pane is empty of anything but the late afternoon sun blazing against bare asphalt.

“I’m sure he’s trying to get here as fast as he can.”

You hate to see it, the incorrigible way her lips flatten at the edges. Like she doesn’t think he’s showing up at all. It begs the question of routine or a deep seeded fear.

You lead her to the lounge, her tiny feet pattering quickly behind you despite your decrease in tempo. It’s a pathetic little room really, with a round table and a fridge. Wren lingers by the door, eyes wide like it’s the holy grail. You pull your tub of yogurt and a juice box from the corner of the fridge and turn back to her with a kind smile. “Jackpot!”

“Jackpot! Can I hold something, please?”

“You take the juicebox, it’s so heavy I might fall over!” You sway on your feet, emphasis enough to have Wren giggling and her hands gently prying the small thing from you. “Thank you, sweetheart. Ready to head back?”

She looks at you a moment, poking at her chin. “What about the crackers?”

“Follow me.”

Her spirits have lifted a small amount by the time you’re back to the classroom, still empty save for her bright backpack slung over the back of her chair. You walk to your desk, plopping the tub of yogurt down and waving her over. She tentatively approaches you, this side of the wooden surface not often breached by anyone other than yourself.

You crouch to the lowermost drawer, sliding it open to reveal an assortment of goodies, some that you use sparingly when the class is being in especially good spirits and some for yourself to snack on throughout the day.

“Whoa.” Wren peeks into the stash then back to you, “That’s a lot of stuff.”

“Yeah, don’t tell anyone. It’s our little secret, okay?” You pass her the graham crackers and notice the chipping purple polish on her nails. “Does your daddy paint your nails?”

“No, my Aunt Max does it. But sometimes I pick at them and I haven’t been able to see her um…because of school.” Wren explains, scraping her nail along the edge of her thumb where a dusting of purple has scattered against it. “Next time I wanna do it like pumpkins for Halloween!”

“Oh I think that would be very cool! Let’s sit at your table and we can eat a little.” She nods and hobbles back to her chair with her juice box clutched in her fist. “Do you like your graham crackers with yogurt? It’s my favorite.”

“I’ve never had it before. My after school snack is usually half a peanut butter and jelly with some grapes and five m&ms. I get five so I can put them in the bread and make a face, but they always fall out so I just get chocolate before dinner.” You have a feeling her plan is not as sneaky as she thinks, but the mischievous glint in her eye fills you with a warmth too wholesome to burst her bubble.

You free a cracker from the brown sleeve and dip it into the tub of yogurt to carefully hand over to Wren who watches the entire process arched over the desk with rapt attention. “Tell me what you think.”

She takes a large bite, a corner of the cracker breaking off and falling to the desk leaving a glob of yogurt clinging to her cheek. She scrunches her nose and swallows, her hand grabbing at the piece that now rests atop the table.

“May I please have a napkin?”

“Yeah,” You chuckle, quick to hop up and grab the spare roll from your desk.

“It’s really good!” She says through another mouthful, allowing you to dab at the corner of her cheek. She whines a bit when you spend too long rubbing at the skin but quickly catches herself and smiles sheepish. You continue like this for a while, Wren too occupied cautiously dipping each cracker and sliding it past her lips.

Your eyes travel the expanse of the window, trying to spot any unfamiliar vehicles pulling in. There’s nothing but the sky darkening to an angry gray color, clouds settling for an evening storm. You think you should attempt to call her house, but you’re sure there won’t be an answer.

You must’ve missed something she said, because next thing Wren’s arm is tugging at the edge of your sleeve and her eyes are wide and fearful where she follows your previous path to the window.

“I want my daddy.” Nothing if not a daddy’s girl, your heart breaks at the sight of her tears welling up again, certainly no hope of anyone but him soothing her broken soul. The matter is furthered when a loud crack of thunder rumbles and the first spit of water sprinkles against the glass. “Daddy!”

She wails then and you're rounding the short distance from the table to kneel at her side, accepting her with open arms when she throws herself forward, spiraled by fear. She’s inconsolable and you almost want to start crying yourself. Her hands tighten into fists in your sweater and yours are gliding up and down her back.

Another crack of thunder and you don’t think she can get any closer, terrified of the monsters causing a ruckus in the clouds. It’s a wonder the lights don’t go out entirely, but they begin to flicker and it’s daunting enough that even you’re on edge.

You feel horrible, unable to produce the right fix to calm Wren enough that she’s no longer trembling in your arms. You attempt to talk her down, a coaxing filled with soft words, your hand gliding against one of her pigtails. Her breathing has lost all pretenses, uneven huffs of air all she can manage in her race to keep pace with her dampened emotions.

“Wren?” You glance toward the door, an unfamiliar man is standing half damp and out of breath in the doorway. You’re about to ask who he is, but Wren wrenches herself from you before you have the chance, her tiny body bolting across the room and into his arms. He catches her up like he’s done so a million times before, immediately comforting her with a doting patience.

“Daddy, where were you!?” She cries, muffled against his neck where he cradles her, pressing kisses to her crown. “We were waiting for so long and then it got dark and scary.”

“I know. I’m so sorry, sweet girl. Got held up at work and then there was an accident on the way here and I couldn’t get to a phone. I’m so sorry.” His explanation is partially directed at you, still crouched and awe struck near Wren’s chair. “Thank you for staying with her. I’m really sorry I’m late.”

“I—it’s no problem, but…who are you?” He looks up from where he was in the midst of further consoling Wren whose tears have fallen much quieter but wouldn’t halt altogether for a while yet. His brows furrow, but he stumbles forward with his hand outstretched. An admirable feat with the way Wren demands his every attention, her fingers grasping at the extension of his sleeve.

“I’m Steve Harrington, Wren’s dad.”

“No…Wren’s dad is Eddie. I met him yesterday…” You finally stand, looking between the two of them on high alert. Neither of you miss the way Wren wiggles in Steve’s arms, a giggle followed by wet sniffling. “Oh—oh my are you two…? I’m so sorry I didn’t know, please excuse my rudeness. I don’t mean anything by it, I’m sure you guys are a great couple.”

“No!” There’s barely a pause, just a momentary confusion followed by a disturbance twitching amongst the muscles of Steve’s face. “We’re not—I mean Eddie and I are not a couple. He just helps me out and picks her up from school most days. I’m Wren’s dad…her only dad.”

You’re unsure whether you should laugh or not, but the mortification of the whole thing doesn’t allow you much of a choice. Your hand flies to cover the expanse of your mouth, fighting the sputter of voice that shapes itself as a nervous giggle. Steve hitches Wren higher where she clings to his chest, the girl gone quiet since her previous giggling.

“Wren?” Steve prompts her, leaning back so he can see her tear stained cheeks.

“Me and Uncle Eddie tricked her.” Wren admits and you imagine the feeling of panic that crawled into your chest would’ve been horribly constricting were it not for the small chuckle from Steve.

“You know that wasn’t very nice, right? What if something happened and your teacher got confused about who to call?” Not a huge concern considering the heaps of paperwork in your own files as well as the front office, but Steve runs with it all the same and Wren’s cheeks redden from more than her previous display of emotions. “I think you need to apologize to her, please.”

“I’m sorry. Wasn’t nice to trick you, I’ll make sure Uncle Eddie gets in trouble too.” She promises burying her head back into Steve’s chest, shoulders still steadily heaving.

“It’s okay, Wren, I think I’m the one who should be a little embarrassed for not realizing.” You puff, glancing at your heels shifting against the pattern tile. “In any case, I’m Y/n Y/l/n. I guess it’s good to actually meet you this time.”

“No, please, I should be the one embarrassed for taking so long to meet you in the first place. It’s just that I'm usually working and I don’t get off in time to pick her up.” In the silence that follows, the patter of rain pelts the window and thunder echoes in the distance, a warning that you’re not quite in the worst of it.

“Well now we’ve met, and Wren was just so excited to have you pick her up!”

“Now Wren is ready to go home.” She pouts, something you’ve never bore witness to. You think she’s just being difficult in that way kids do when they don’t feel entirely okay about what’s happening. Steve seems put out, kissing the top of her head and smoothing her jacket beneath his palms. You walk the length back to her chair, gathering her pink backpack and sliding the untouched juicebox into the side pocket.

“Thank you.” Steve accepts the bag and carefully slings it over his shoulder. “Actually I was hoping we’d be able to talk sometime? I was planning on doing it today but obviously that’s not gonna happen, so maybe we could schedule something?”

“Oh, yeah of course. Just let me know what works best for you.”

“I’ll give you a call later in the week to set something up. I think I need to get someone home.” Wren nods against his chest, mumbling something you don’t quite catch. “Say bye please.”

“Bye, thank you for the snack.” It’s an effort not to coo at the way her head momentarily lifts to glance back at you, her eyes puffy under the weight of her tears but a toothy grin making its way to her cheeks.

“You’re welcome, sweetie. See you tomorrow.”

You watch them leave, quick to gather your own belongings and brave the strengthening storm. You stop off, just a quick pit before heading home.It’s frigid outside, the constant downpour seeping into your bones by the time you step into the general store around six.

“You're late. Rough day with the kiddos?” You pile a fresh assortment of markers to the counter, always stocking up on something these days. The most recent supply shortage is a result of a habit unteachable in most kids until they manage a hint of perfectionism in their adolescent craft. The tips of the markers seem to recede further inward with each use and soon they’ll be nothing but cylinders of plastic.

“Yeah, there was a parent late for pick-up so I had to stick around a little longer.”

“Did you tell them you’re not a daycare service?” Joyce pops a hard candy into her mouth, offering one across the counter. You take the wrapped good between your fingers, the ghost of a smile pinching your muscles.

“No, he was really nice and apologized a million times. Plus, his daughter is really sweet so I didn’t mind.”

“His daughter’s sweet, huh?” Her tone holds a teasing lilt, one you ignore in favor of popping the candy past your lips. Strawberry.

“How long are you in for? It’s getting pretty ugly out there.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably start closing up behind you so I can get home to Will.” She passes your bag over the counter, heading to the door to flip the ‘closed’ sign. “You should come over for dinner in a couple of weeks! I meant to invite you the other day, but it completely slipped my mind.”

“Oh, are you having people over? A couple of weeks is a lot of notice.”

“Just a few, something casual that I like to do from time to time. Just some of Will’s friends and some of mine, which includes you now.” You beam, twirling your bag between your fingers in an attempt not to seem too eager at the small admission. You haven’t had much time to navigate Hawkins before the start of the school year and no one seemed keen on letting you forget your lack of camaraderie.

“That would be really great, thank you. Should I bring anything?”

“If you want. But those kids will eat anything so don’t think too hard about it.”

“Great! I should get going, but I’ll probably see you in a few days. The kids have started rebelling against me by breaking all the crayons into halves.”

“Yikes.”

“I guess I should just be glad they’re sharing, right?”

~*~

“Wren, please eat your dinner.”

She’s been like this since they got home, a refusal to cooperate with Steve’s attempts at getting her to do anything. He’s not upset with her, more annoyed at the entirety of the situation; at Keith for keeping him longer than necessary and at the jackass who rear ended the poor old woman on his drive to school.

She’s barely spoken a word to him since he buckled her into her booster seat and placed a kiss to her cheek with another apology for being so late. He thinks it a feat she wandered over to the table at all, now sitting stock straight and stubborn as ever.

The storm still rages outside, pelting the window with ferocity. Steve can tell Wren isn’t unafraid, but too upset with him to voice her concerns about it. He knows it’s at least part of her sour mood, but it doesn’t feel whole.

“Don’t want it.” She pouts, Floppy tucked beneath her arm and her fingers jammed between her lips. She’s red in the cheeks, has been since he found her crying in your arms, and he thinks she might be warm from all her fussing. He made a can of soup, chicken noodle because she’s going through a phase and has decided tomato looks too much like vomit.

“Come on, lovebug, just a little before it gets cold.”

He pilots the spoon to her lips and she seals them tight, shaking her head and shoving it away. The spoon skitters along the table, golden liquid splashing everywhere.

“No!”

It’s a long meditated practice in patience and the lingering resentment from his own childhood that keeps him from losing it just then. He stands from the chair at her side and silently grabs the spoon from the center of the table to toss into the full bowl. He dabs at the spilled broth with a napkin, slowly to give him more time to collect the heavy emotion coiling in his chest.

“Wren, go to your room.” He thinks she must be able to feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. He can see her climbing from her chair without a word to trudge down the hall, her heavy steps sinking into the carpet. He winces when she slams the door then he’s collapsing at the table shielding his face in his hands.

He’s at a loss. He feels frustrated and pathetic. His kid is just being a kid, throwing a tantrum. He should be able to handle it, right?

He thinks it would be easier if it was something she’d ever done before, but she hasn’t. Sure she’s pouted over small things like the wrong color popsicle or having to keep her beloved bunny home when she goes to school, but those things are kissed away as easily as they popped into her beautiful little brain. Never has she been so forthright in her ire that she outright refuses to listen.

This time he doesn’t even really know the problem, so how’s he supposed to fix it?

He leaves her for a while, both of them needing the situation to cool a bit before he attempts to neutralize it. The apartment is silent save for the sound of him cleaning the dishes from dinner, tucking the uneaten soup into a container for later. He glances at the clock, the time nearing eight-thirty when he decides he’s spent enough time stewing.

When he enters her room, the lights are on and he can see her in a lump beneath her comforter.

“Wren.” She shifts beneath the blankets, alerting him she’s not asleep, but doesn’t respond as anything other than a quiet whimper. “Can we talk please, lovebug? I’m not mad, I just wanna know what’s wrong.”

He settles beside her, gently tugging the blanket back expecting to find her head resting against the pillow. Instead her feet poke out of the top, his hand playfully caressing her heels and she giggles kicking at him.

“Daddy!” She squeals when he pulls her free from the mass of blankets to settle in his lap. She’s changed, a pair of bright blue pajamas in place of her denim.

“There’s my Wren.” He smiles and she curls further into him. “Okay, bug, wanna tell me what’s goin on? Is it because I was late?”

She crawls out of his lap to settle beneath her blankets and lifts the edge, a silent invitation he gladly accepts. He begins pulling the ribbons from her hair, something she couldn’t always manage on her own. He frees the loose strands from the clips secured at her scalp and plops them on her nightstand. She hums when his hands run through her hair, loosening it around her shoulders.

“Today was a hard day, but I need you to talk to me. I can’t make it better if I don’t know what’s wrong.” He waits another moment for her to speak, knowing sometimes she chews on words a little longer because she wants to be understood.

“I thought you weren’t coming and I was so scared.” It’s barely a whisper, hands grabbing at one of Steve’s where it holds her against him. Both of her hands fit into the span of his palm and it reminds him that though her maturity is great she’s still barely past the point of sleeping through the night. Just a little girl more afraid of the world than even he realizes.

“I’m sorry I scared you, but I need you to understand that I will always come for you, Wren. No matter what.”

“But what if you don’t? What if you never come just like mama.” His heart breaks entirely too suddenly, the fractured pieces seeping with sorrow for his daughter’s bleak admission.

It’s not often she asks about her mom, always content with things the way they are, just the two of them. Steve explained things as best he could without damning her with the knowledge that it was without a heavy heart that her mother handed her over and ditched Hawkins for a “better future”. One without teen pregnancy in the rearview.

He figured it wasn’t something he’d have to address again until she was much older, and certainly not because she was afraid he would leave her behind.

“Is that what this is about? You’ve been thinking about your mom?”

“Everyone’s always talking about their moms at school and it just made me think about mine. I don’t know her at all, not even a picture.” She sighs, head lolling to one side as the day begins to catch up to her. “I look in the mirror sometimes to see, but everyone says I look just like you.”

“I’m sorry, sweet girl, I wish things could be different.” He loves them the way they are, but he would never deny her the opportunity to have a mother.

“Do you think she’ll ever come to see me?”

“I don’t know, bug, I’m sorry.”

Wren pauses for a beat, like she’s thinking about exactly how it makes her feel.

“It’s okay, daddy, I love you most.” She presses a kiss to his cheek, sloppy and full of affection. Just enough to make him smile through this painful moment of parenting. “Just don’t ever leave me.”

“I’ve got you, don’t you worry about that.” He holds her like that for a while, listening to her breathing as it evens out, pressed against him with her rabbit beneath her arm. He slowly untangles himself and slides the length of the mattress, pressing a kiss to her head.

“Daddy?” Her sleep filled voice stops him in his tracks.

“Yeah?”

“Do I look like her…just a little?”

He wants to tell her that she looks like his little girl, the only thing that matters to him in the world, but he knows it's not what she needs right now.

“Of course you do.” She smiles sleepily and he places another soft kiss on her forehead. “Goodnight, sweet girl.”

“Goodnight, daddy.”

~*~

“Okay, Wren, you can pick one.” Steve stands at attention, one hand slipping from his pocket to secure the hat over Wren’s ears before she can jet off between the rows of pumpkins. He dots kisses on her nose, her tongue darting out to tease his chin much to her own amusement. “Just make sure it’s a good one, I don’t want one that’s molding after a few days like last time.”

“Daddy, that wasn’t my fault.” She’s adamant, has been ever since the incident first occurred. Now she’s taken to shifting on her feet with her hands on her hips, far too much like Steve if anyone were to judge. “You’re the one who put it right by the window so its insides got cooked by the sun!”

“I wasn’t blaming you, I was just saying!”

It was a promise he made the morning after the talk. To come out to one of the local farms and let Wren pick a pumpkin out this weekend. She’s been on her best behavior and he still feels guilt bleeding into his gut after what happened.

Either way it’s tradition, letting her pick a pumpkin so they can gut it and carve it into a face. Wren is mostly into the sport of the whole thing, running up and down the rows of the patch dead set on finding the perfect pumpkin. She’s usually too grossed out by the mess of scooping the stringy organs of the fall fruit and Steve is certainly not comfortable with her wielding a carving knife, but he always lets her draw the face, silently questioning her ability to get the marker everywhere.

She also loves roasting the seeds and Steve usually picks a second pumpkin because Joyce will make pie or a pumpkin roll.

Wren races off, her converse kicking up the dried dirt and leaves beneath her feet. Steve watches her closely, wincing when she nearly trips over a root. Never a dull moment.

“Hey…you’re Wren’s dad, right?” The tone is teasing, and Steve glances to find you, Wren’s teacher with an assortment of baby pumpkins in a crate tucked in your arms.

You spotted him in the thin crowd after purchasing the barrage of seasonal squash and debated for the better part of five minutes whether it would be odd to amble over. Curiosity got the better and here you stand in the beholden of Steve Harrington with what you would describe as a look of adorable confusion dotting the lines of his cheeks.

“Hi, yeah, nice to see you again, Ms…”

“Y/n is fine.”

“Y/n. Are you hunting for class pumpkins?” He gently coaxes the box from your arms, chuckling at the way your shoulders sag without the extra weight. He glances toward Wren, making sure she’s not too far gone and finds her bent over chatting animatedly with a plump gourd.

“Yeah, I thought it would be fun to have a little pumpkin decorating contest. Though, glitter and paint…I might not have as much fun as them.” He’s immediately smitten with your smile, the way it takes over the entirety of your face and pushes at the edges of your eyes. “What about you? Gonna see if you can out decorate Wren? I’ve got bad news for you because as her teacher I can confirm that you’re gonna lose.”

“Oh I have no doubt. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve fished one of her drawings out of my pocket at work.” He sounds exasperated but the entirety of his fondness is concentrated in the raised crinkles of his eyes.

“That’s so sweet.”

“Not so sweet when you pass it to your boss instead of the list of new releases—”

“Aw, he didn’t like it?” Your hand covers the crease in your cheek, feigned surprise to counter Steve’s lopsided grimace.

“Told me to stop messing around on the job.”

“Well, I think it’s totally worth it. You’ve got a pretty great kid.” It feels odd, the umbrella of formality shading your exchange. Steve’s not sure what it is, but as much as he wants to he feels awkward suggesting a topic more casual than a teacher praising her pupil, unsure if it would be a toe too far over the line. “You never called by the way!”

“Huh?” He’s taken out of his thoughts for a moment, the words something he hasn’t heard someone say to him with such curiosity since high school. It’s ridiculously reminiscent and he has to remind himself that he’s so far removed from that time in his life that it wouldn’t make any sense to think of it now.

“About that meeting you wanted to set up. I only mention it because you seemed a little concerned…”

“Oh, yeah. Maybe we could do it sometime this week? I can plan a half day and we can talk when I come to pick Wren up…I promise I’ll be on time.”

“Yeah, that sounds fine. How is Wren after the other day? She was pretty shaken up.” Your concern warms him beneath the cool of autumn, the sight of Wren happier than ever zig-zagging between pumpkins not enough to sway you from the certainty of her well-being.

He wonders if his sudden fondness for you is strange. Hopefully not when you’ve shown such an astounding interest in his daughter. He hasn’t missed the extra encouragement on her papers, little notes left in the margins about the anecdotes Wren shares with you in class.

He’s choosing to ignore the flutter of attraction that washed over him when he saw you standing there with pumpkins in your arms. It’s simple but the way you’re wearing your cute orange sweater and flared jeans is like nothing he’s seen before. Not the clothes really, but the way you wear them with such nonchalance, picking at pumpkin shaded fuzz like you don’t realize you’re more than a momentary guide for the youth of Hawkins.

“She’s better, thank you for asking.”

“Daddy!” Just in time Wren sprints over, tugging on the fabric of his jeans with urgency. He thinks she might have to use the restroom with the way she balances on the toes of her converse, eyes larger than usual. “Daddy, come on we have to get this one before someone takes it! What’s in your hands? You can’t carry our pumpkin with that thing in the way.”

“I’m sorry, your dad was just giving me a hand.” Wren spots you then, hanging from Steve’s leg like she’ll fly away if she eases up.

“Oh…hi. Did you hear about the pumpkins too?” She glances the way she came, still on edge about the perfect pumpkin escaping her grasp. “My daddy and I are gonna decorate one. I want it to look like Uncle Eddie.”

She does the horns again and Steve swears he’s gonna kick Eddie’s ass.

“That sounds like fun! I don’t wanna keep you from your pumpkin, but you can tell me all about it on Monday. Maybe even take a picture so we can hang it in the classroom.”

Wren brightens at that, half because you’ve remembered her camera and half at the prospect of her hellfire pumpkin wreaking havoc on her classmates. You look back at Steve, arms extended for the lofty crate and he hesitates for a moment. He’s not unnoticed by Wren who glances between her teacher and her dad, catching the lack of space between them.

“You should come have lunch with us! We’re going to Benny’s and he has the yummiest french fries. Don’t you like french fries?” She inquires with her wide eyes, forgetting altogether about the perfect pumpkin, Steve notes.

“Come on, Wren, everyone loves french fries.” You placate her, though not without glancing at Steve, bashful under his attentive gaze. He doesn’t step in, more than happy to have you join but no intention to pressure you more than Wren already has. He knows it may seem mean spirited, but he’s not willing to embarrass himself by making it clear he’s not ready to see you go, whatever the reason may be. “You know, I’d love to, but I should probably get home.”

“Noooo!” Wren drags it out, leaving a wrinkle where she’d been gripping Steve’s pants. He shakes the leg and watches horrified when Wren clears the gap between the two of you and yanks the edge of your sweater. “You have to come! It’ll be perfect!”

“Wren.” He hopes the hard tone isn’t something he’ll have to use more often, but it does the trick. Wren takes a step back, the grace of embarrassment sticking to her cheeks in a rose blush. “Sorry, she just gets a little excited sometimes. But you’re more than welcome to join us if you want.”

“I don’t wanna impose, looks like you two are having a cute day together.”

“It’s not imposing, we’re inviting you.” Steve tuts, freeing his hand long enough to swipe at a strand clinging to his forehead. He can see you thinking it over, which means that you do want to come, you just aren’t sure it’s a good idea. “Benny does have the best fries.”

“Yeah, and you look cute today too! It’ll be a cute day with the three of us!”

“Well…I am pretty hungry. Plus, I think I have to be the judge of those fries.”

“Yay!” Wren dances in place, reaching for Steve’s occupied hands. “Daddy, we have to go get our pumpkin. I want chicken tendies.”

“Ok, why don’t you go on over and make sure no one takes it. I’ll be there in a second.” He nods in the direction she came from, watching her skip back between the rows with nothing more than a breathless affirmation.

“Are you sure you don’t mind me tagging along? I know it can be hard to say ‘no’ sometimes.”

“Positive. Wren seems to like you a lot and I'd like to get to know you better myself.”

“I’d like to get to know you too. I mean, it’s always good to know what kinds of parents I’m working with.” He’s cheeky now, element restored upon realization that you’re just as nervous as he is.

“If you like to get to know all your parents…then you were just playing hard to get?” You blanche, placing your hands on the edge of your crate of pumpkins. You lose your balance but Steve tugs the weight toward him to help you steady.

You’re transfixed following your dissipation of momentary panic. If you thought Eddie was pretty you aren’t quite comfortable with the way your chest skips a beat when you really look at Steve.

There’s something of a conventional attraction to him, all hazel eyes and big hair, styled just perfectly to steal your attention away from the deep blue fleece jacket obscuring the t-shirt you imagine hugging his arms. His smile pushes into dimples, precious divots in the plains of his complexion, curling with his lips when he speaks.

There are also the perfect imperfections like moles dotting his skin and the freckles lining his nose from the kiss of summer still lingering with his fading tan. The way his nose stands out amongst the symmetry of his features, all but forcing you to wonder what it would feel like if you kissed him and felt the flush of it against your skin.

“As if any of them would offer.”

“Hm, their loss.”

“Strong words for someone who doesn’t know me all that well. Let me take those! I think I’ve kept you from your pumpkins long enough.” Both of you realize the awkward dance you’re fallen victim to. Fingers kissing in the holes of the crate in effect of your attempt to fully unmarry Steve from it. “Um…thanks for the break. Should I meet you guys at Benny's? I don’t want these to get all gross in the car, so I wanna drop em’ off.”

“We could pick you up.” Steve takes a leap, unclear of his intentions but too late to take it back. He can hear a distant singing, Wren’s attempts to coax him in her direction and it forces him further. “I mean, it’s no trouble. Would be easier if we just grabbed you on the way because I never know how long she’s gonna take with these things.”

“I’m well aware.” You laugh and he knows you really mean it. It’s a refreshing feeling, someone who actually understands him rather than blank stares and constant confusion when he explains a concept foreign to anyone without a mini version of themselves plodding two steps behind them at all times. You pull a pad from the tote hanging on your shoulder and an ink pen just behind it; scribbling for a moment you tear the flesh of the page slipping it between Steve’s fingers. “Take your time, I’m happy to wait until she has the perfect pumpkin.”

“Strong words.”

“I mean every one of them.”

~*~

As it turns, the perfect pumpkin took longer than you initially anticipated. Not that you mind, it gave you enough time to make sure all your pumpkins were clean and stored somewhere suitable until you brought them in Monday morning. You almost want to change, the lingering layer of dirt a ghost against your skin, but it feels too formal and you don’t want Steve to think anything of it.

You opt to thoroughly wash your hands and spritze a fresh layer of perfume, in the middle of the second step when there’s a knock at the door. You fumble the bottle, panicking when it crashes into the porcelain sink just barely catching between your thumb and pointer. Your recovery is short lived when you hear the front door balancing on its hinges.

“Hello! We’re here for Ms. Y/l/n.” Wren sings and you can already picture your aunt bending to greet her with the biggest smile, glancing toward Steve filled with a hopeful curiosity.

You hurry into the hall, watching Steve’s shoulders loosen when he spots you speeding toward them. Your aunt is in fact folded in half, her hands on her knees while she talks to Wren. You hope she’s not wearing her usual perfume, the one that makes her smell more like a burnt cookie than the fresh one touted on the label.

“Well hi there! I don’t think we’ve met before.” You lock eyes with Steve, hoping the funny look on your face is explanation enough.

“I’m Wren Harrington! I’m five years old and I want chicken tenders.” Wren slouches backward into Steve’s legs, eyes brightening like she’s just realized he’s there. “This is my daddy!”

“Steve, nice to meet you.” You bound over, placing your hand on the curve of your aunt’s shoulders, drawing her attention away from your current company. You see the glint in her eye before she can speak, lengthening your speech for the occasion.

“I’ve told you about Wren before! She’s the one who drew me that lovely picture with all the flowers.” You draw the comparison because it was ages spent listening to her talk about how cute it was everytime she opened the fridge. You agree, but the gasp of shock with nearly every gallon of iced tea has grown to an increasing redundancy so you’re positive she hasn’t forgotten it.

“You saw my picture?” It’s like it’s been hung in a gallery the way Wren leaps forward, her eyes finding pace around the room like it’s here and she just hasn’t found it yet. You can guess her own house must be filled with her in small doses, plastered to the fridge and reflected in frames. It doesn’t take a degree to see that Steve is just as fond of Wren as she is of him, his eyes lingering on her excitement.

“I sure did, made your favorite teacher hang it right on the fridge for everyone to see!”

“Can I see?!” Wren glances at Steve, a silent permission to venture further into the unfamiliar home when your aunt extends her hand.

“Go on.” He nods, patting her back to gently thrust her forward. He gives you his whole attention then, brow raised against his hairline and a kind smile cresting his lips. “The fridge huh?”

“You should’ve just honked, it would’ve saved you the trouble.”

“I don’t mind. Wren can find a friend in just about anyone.” You can hear the excited chatter coming from the kitchen, no doubt Wren’s willingness to guide her audience through the entirety of her creation from the color crayons to the touch of glitter you recollect painting the sky. There’s an awkward lull standing here with Steve, one you attempt to remedy.

“So, what is it that you do exactly? You’ve mentioned work keeps you occupied.”

“Oh.” Steve shifts awkwardly, cheeks tinged a crimson shade. You worry you’ve stepped too far, still unversed in the politics of small town suburbia.

“I’m sorry, that was rude. Forget I asked.” Steve knuckles your shoulder, a small smile, a consolation.

“No, it’s…I don’t mind. Let’s just say I’m no professional or anything.”

“You’ve got time, I promise. No judgment here.”

“I’ve been working at Family Video since I graduated basically. Not that I would’ve gotten in, but with Wren college was near impossible.” You don’t miss the derogation coating the words. It pains you to think he blames his lack of what he deems professionalism on some preconceived notion of success not within his reach. “I’m not really sure what to do now, so it puts food on the table, ya know?”

“Nothing wrong with not knowing. Especially when you and Wren are both so young.” You shrug, your own attempt at alleviating the misplaced self hate. “I mean, maybe she can help you find what you wanna do. Kids tend to be the best judge of character.”

“You’re the best!” Wren runs back into the room, bulldozing right into your knees and burrowing into your sweater. “Thank you for hanging my picture.”

“See?” You nudge Steve, assuaging his uncertainty about Wren’s sudden affection. “Of course I hung it, no one’s ever drawn me anything before. I love it!”

“Well, I can draw you pictures all the time. Don’t even worry about it!” Wren’s exuberance is palpable, the whole of the room sprinkled with the fondness of her unbridled youth. “Can we go now? I’m hungry.”

“You all should get going, don’t let me keep you. I’ve got a coffee date with Gretchen anyhow.” She all but shoves the lot of you toward the front door, Wren already fastened around the hand your aunt hasn’t shoved your purse into. “Have fun! It was nice meeting you two, we’ll have dinner sometime.”

It’s a process getting Wren into her booster, her body flailing all over the place like her limbs are sentient in their own right. It’s the excitement of the whole thing and Steve is out of breath but still calm when he settles in the driver's seat. You manage to school your amusement, but he catches a glimpse of it all the same.

“Something funny?”

“Nope, we're all good. Right, Wren?”

“All good!” She parrots, a small blanket tucked across her chest. It’s cute, a soft pink color patterned with white plaid. “Your aunt is very nice but she smells like fire and chocolate. I thought she was cooking badly, but she said she wasn’t cooking anything.”

“Wren, that's not very nice.” Steve admonishes, tinkering with the dial on the radio.

“No it’s okay, she’s right. It’s her new perfume, Wren. I haven’t had the heart to tell her it doesn’t smell as good as she thinks.” Your head lolls over, eyes glancing toward the backseat where Wren is picking at her nails. “Hey, you got the pumpkins!”

She looks at you, then flashes her hand forward to point at them. “I got candy corn too! I think they taste gross, but Max said it just looks pretty.”

“They do, they look so pretty. I’m jealous.”

“I also got a ghost…his name is Steve Sheet.” She wags her pointer finger, painted black with an open mouthed ghost staring back.

“Any relation?” You momentarily lock eyes with the human Steve as he fastens his arm around your seat and pushes to reverse.

“I’m not sayin a word.”

“Last Halloween I asked daddy to dress up with me and he wore a sheet on his head. I asked if he was a ghost and he said he was Steve Sheet.” Wren fills in giggling. “Isn’t that just so silly?”

“The silliest. But I bet Steve Sheet was very cute.”

“I was a very handsome sheet, thank you. Wren, hand please.” You look back in time to see her pulling her fingers from her lips and wiping them on her bottoms. She mumbles something about how he always sees her, very inconvenienced by the whole thing.

There’s a contented silence for the remainder of the ride to Benny’s save for Wren’s frequent mumbling to herself in the backseat. Steve seems unbothered, like she does it often. When you take a moment to listen long enough you realize she’s practicing reading the signs as they flash. You’ve been working on helping her with pronunciation in class and she’s still having trouble but your heart is full at how easily she can make out the words even if they don’t sound entirely correct.

You think you could stay like this. A fleeting thought, but a thought you know is genuine.

When you’re finally sliding into a table at Benny’s Burgers Wren is a bit stumped. You and Steve take opposite sides of the table and the girl stands at the head like you’ve given her an impossible choice.

“Where should I sit?” Hands on her hips, lips pouting toward the two as if you should’ve all sat on one side.

“You should sit with me because I’m your favorite teacher in the world, right?” You slide the chair out, patting the lightly cushioned seat with a candy grin. Wren slowly nods her head, drifting over.

“Now wait just a second!” Steve cuts him, feigned offense lining his lips. He frees the chair beside him from beneath the table, dotting his chin with his pointer finger in much thought. “I think that as the best daddy in the world, your words Miss Harrington not mine, you should come and sit next to me.”

“That’s a good point, I did say that. Benny, what do I do?” The man himself stations at the head of the table, a kind smile when Wren addresses him with his grease stained henley and a loose apron lining his waist. “We have to talk about getting a circle table. At school we have circle tables and I can sit next to both of my friends!”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He chuckles, plopping a thin coloring book and a box of crayons down and sliding one of the extra chairs so it’s situated between yourself and Steve. “For now, how about this?”

“Perfect! And you remembered my coloring book? You’re the best!” Wren climbs into the seat, flipping the book open to a half colored kitten with rainbow stripes and exaggerated whiskers. “Benny this is Ms. Y/l/n, she’s my teacher and she’s never had your french fries before.”

“Well she better be new in town.” He huffs, mocking some fickle offense at the mere thought. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too, and call me Y/n. I’m pretty eager to try the best fries ever.”

“Well I’ll get started on em right away if you all know what you want? Well…I know what these two regs want.” He nods toward Steve and Wren, the former seeming caught at the revelation that they come here far more than maybe they should. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll take a cheeseburger, no tomato please, with fries and a coke.” Benny nods, tapping his pen against the pad of paper and trudging back to the kitchen.

“Wren, you can call me by my first name when we’re not in school, I promise I don’t mind.” You pat her free hand, the one not hard at work coloring the kitten a lovely shade of amethyst. She looks up, lips opening and closing silently. Practicing.

“First name?” She asks, like it’s a trick.

“Uh huh! It feels so weird to be Ms anything outside of school. Makes me feel old.” Wren giggles but goes back to her coloring, mumbling a chord in which she just repeats your name to herself over and over. You find Steve then, pulling at the plastic corner of one of the menus.

“How long have you been in town?” He attempts to lead the conversation, still not exactly sure where to take you. He hopes you don’t bring him to the realization that you’ve really always been in town, perhaps one of those people he was always too self involved to notice.

It seems unlikely, the whole of your existence feeling like something he wouldn’t have been able to ignore in school. Though perhaps you’d be the one doing the ignoring, far too out of his league when he really thinks of it.

“Oh, not long. I only got in officially about a week before school started. I’m still getting used to it all really. The small town vibe.”

“You didn’t live here before?” Wren interrupts, moved from the kitten to the tight ball of yarn with a soft orange crayon.

“Nope. I moved here to work after school. Hawkins seemed like a good place to get my feet wet after student teaching in the city.”

“Well I’m glad you’re here!” Benny cuts in again then, passing drinks around, a sippy cup filled with juice for Wren, like it’s been waiting for her return. “The other teacher seemed nice, but I heard she always gave the class raisins for snack.”

“I’m glad I’m here too.” You scrunch your nose, sipping from your coke and nearly coughing from the sudden carbonation building in your chest. “It’s nice, but it’s definitely daunting. Everyone already seems to know each other so I’m not really sure where I fit.”

“Trust me, it’s not just because you’re new. People here are unwelcoming at the best of times even if they’re all smiles. But now you’ve got Wren and I to show you the ropes.” Steve grabs a hold of Wren’s sippy cup, double checking Benny didn’t sneak any soda, and slips it closer to the center of the table so Wren’s arm isn’t nearly nudging it to the floor.

You’re amiable until your food arrives, Steve inquiring about your time in school, clearly feeling some sense of longing though you’re not sure what for exactly. It’s hard to grasp his feelings on the whole thing and you’re too uninitiated to ask outright.

You lightly tread when asking him about his own experiences. He mostly talks about Wren in her younger years— ”Daddy it was always Floppy!” —and the gaggle of children that have become all but his family. He glosses over the ones long gone and nestles himself in the affection of the ones gone but soon to return. By the time Benny is placing steaming plates in front of your intimate trio you feel like you’d do anything to know more about Steve Harrington. So open yet admiringly elusive.

You decide rather quickly that Benny’s fries are some of the best you’ve ever had and Wren seems satisfied at your admission. She doesn’t talk much through her eating, but Steve seems worried about the way she’s shoveling it down.

“Lovebug, please slow down before you choke. I promise it’s not going anywhere. Have a drink of juice.”

“But daddy, I’m hungryyyy!” She drags the words like she’s not already eating, like taking even a moment from the crispy chicken will be her end all. Steve ignores the drama, wetting his thumb and dragging it along a dollop of ketchup at the corner of her lips.

“Wren, please.” Is all he says, sucking his finger clean and taking a hearty bite of his burger. She listens, taking a lengthy sip of juice but immediately shoving another tender into her cheeks. Steve looks like he’s prepared to scold her again but her brows lift to the sky and she bounces in her seat.

“Uncle Eddie!” Wren exclaims through her mouthful of chicken. She halfheartedly chews, suddenly annoyed with the obstruction of speech. Even through the mumbled clamor Eddie is attuned to her presence right away. He struts over, the metal looped through his jeans clanking beneath the slap of his converse against the checkerboard tile. He’s not alone though. “Uncle Eddie, who is that lady?”

She points to the girl who’d followed after him, standing a ways away like she wasn’t sure if she was welcome. If it were up to Wren she certainly wouldn’t be.

“Hey, little bird, how’s my favorite girl?” Wren wastes no time making it abundantly clear she is not pleased that anyone else could take up Eddie’s time. She hums, settling back into her seat and chugging her juice.

“Wren slow down, please.” Steve’s speech is automatic, you can tell it’s a common occurrence when Eddie doesn’t flinch.Steve isn’t nearly as coy about his line of questioning as Wren, peeking over Eddie’s shoulder but having half a mind to lower his voice so as not to scare her off. “You on a date?”

“Something like that.” He waves it off, but brightens when his gaze lands on you, somewhat embarrassed to see Eddie after all but assuming he was Wren’s dad. “Seems I’m not the only one. What’s up, teach?”

“Hey, Uncle Eddie. It’s nice to see you again.”

“Yeah I heard I was in trouble. I haven’t had detention since high school, but I have a feeling you’d make it a lot more fun.” He teases and Steve kicks his leg where rests at the base of Wren’s chair.

“Uncle Eddie, sit with us!” Wren tugs at the lining of his jacket, whining a tad. It’s obvious it’s Eddie’s kryptonite, the way he kneels beside her and places a gentle kiss against her cheek indicative of how much it pains him to say ‘no’.

“I’m sorry, sweetness, but I’m here with my friend.”

“Who is she? I don’t know her.”

“No, you don’t. She’s just a friend, Wrennie, you don’t have to be jealous.” Eddie coos, pushing his nose against Wren’s to which she places her hands on his cheeks, pulling back to press her own kiss against his soft skin.

“Daddy said date. A date is for love.”

“Sometimes a date can just be for fun or to get to know someone.” Eddie corrects, you and Steve watching him attempt to talk himself out of her bad graces.

“You don’t need to get to know someone, you have me.”

“And you’re my favorite girl in the whole world, but I have to have someone to keep me occupied when your dad is hogging you.” Steve scoffs, hogging his own daughter, a highly amusing feat he seems to have reached. “I’ll come see you tomorrow. You can have me the whole day.”

“Promise?” She extenders her pinky, her other hand curling its way around a piece of Eddie’s hair and gently yanking it at the roots.

“I promise, super duper swear.” He connects their pinkies and tucks them against his lips. When he releases her she looks at his companion once more, moved to a table in the corner, where she periodically glances over like Eddie might have a seat or turn around and leave without her. She seems content enough and shoves a fry into her mouth, chewing animatedly. “Speaking of dates, this is a cute one you guys are on.”

“It’s not a date Eddie, it’s a cute day!” Wren corrects, rubbing her salty fingers on her shirt before Steve can catch her with a napkin. There are already stains where she’d clearly already gotten away with it a number of times. “Daddy, are you okay? Why are you so red?”

Despite your own heat, you look at Steve but not long enough for him to feel more embarrassed than he does. Eddie smiles, clapping Steve on the shoulder triumphantly.

“I’m not, it’s just warm in here.” Steve mutters, avoiding you altogether.

“You look like a tomato.” She counters, dipping her fry in ketchup and holding it up to his face before shoving it at Eddie who bites it out of her hand.

“No, I think it’s more like a heart. Right, Wren?”

“Yeah a heart.”

“Eddie, I think your friend is waiting for you.” You pipe up, pointing to the girl in the corner who is suddenly simpering. You don’t blame her irritation, being left alone while her date shoots the shit with people he won’t even introduce her to. Not that it would go particularly well. You’ve seen kids at their most jealous and suddenly Wren is no exception.

“Okay, I goin. But don’t have too much fun without me, we still have to schedule that detention!”

“Yeah, because Uncle Eddie has been bad!” Wren contributes, seeming to forget her role as a silent accomplice in the whole thing.

“So bad!” Eddie agrees, sending Steve a wink over his shoulder. “I can’t wait to be punished.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #stranger things fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fic #singledad!steve harrington #singledad!steve x teacher!reader #singledad!steve harrington x reader

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oneforthemunny · 7 months

Text

janitor!eddie is always leaving an apple on teacher!reader’s desk every morning.

he gets there early before her to do some extra maintenance- the school had given him a raise to do both so they wouldn’t have to hire someone else. it started as a joke between you two. eddie grinned when you’d brought an apple to lunch one day, playful glint in his eye. “an apple a day, huh?” he asked.

steve snorted. “that’s a doctor, munson.” he rolled his eyes.

you shrugged, biting into your apple. “I like apples, ok?” you giggled. “guess I was made to be a teacher, huh? the stereotype doin’ it for you?”

eddie couldn’t stop smiling. so every day, when he’d stop at the gas station by the trailer park, he’d get his usual pack of camels and an apple. he’d place it on your desk, scribbling on a spare piece of paper a little note that left you blushing when you’d find it.

he’d pass by your classroom, catching your eyes when you’d see him, smiling and nodding towards your apple. later, when he’d take you out, you’d kiss him sweetly on the cheek. “thanks for the apple.” you’d mutter. “it was delicious.” you’d let your bottom lip graze over his cheek, sending a hot blush down his neck and cheeks.

eddie wanted that reaction always, so he’d bring you apple after apple, proudly propping them on your desk each day with a little note.

‘you’re the apple of my eye, sweetheart. have a good day. -ed’

you’d giggle, tucking them into your purse. you’d saved everyone, reading them later when you missed him, heart fluttering in your chest.

one day, eddie walks into his ‘office’- a storage closet with a chair and an old desk, a rack to hang his jacket. there where he put his lunch pail was a small tin of hand balm, ‘for working hands’ it read.

eddie’s heart swelled. he’d complained about the blisters and callouses from working at the school mixed with his guitar making his hands rough, the cold cracking them and making them bleed. when he held his hand in yours, you’d ran a finger over the cracked, raw skin with a sympathetic pout.

eddie picked up the tin, the best folded card on top reading:

‘a little of this cream keeps the callouses away (or that’s what the store clerk told me). hope this helps you my hard working man. xoxo’

eddie slipped it into his front pocket, a dopey grin on his face. he dug his fingers into the balmy substance, rubbing it over his hands before reaching into his lunch pail, grabbing the shiny, red apple out and starting towards your class room.

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1-800-harrington · 1 year

Text

The Gym Teacher

Pairing: Teacher!Steve Harrington X Teacher!Reader

A/N: This was my first time writing for Steve, I hope you all enjoy this!! Please give me feedback.

WC: 2.8k

°•. ✿ .•°

You sighed as you got up from your desk as the bell rang, meaning it was now lunch. “Alright you all are free to go to lunch!” You announced to your class, holding open your class door for them.

“Why are you rushing us out the door today?” Max asked as herself and Jane grabbed their bags from the floor next to them.

“She’s trying to see coach Harrington while he’s still working obviously.” You roll your eyes at the voice coming from the door.

“Be quiet lucas!” You jokingly gave him a strict look. “And i’m not trying to see coach harrington, i’m just hungry.” You defend yourself.

“And thirsty for him.” You smiled and broke into snickers at Max's comment, it obviously caught you off guard.

“Yeah, yeah whatever. Besides, doesn't he have a thing for Mike’s sister?” You asked which made the kids groan and shake their heads at you.

“No, he’s like, like- Max help me out here.” Lucas sighed.

“Mr Harrington is like, absolutely smitten by you ms y/n.” Max said with a growing smile on her face.

“He’s literally got smacked with a basketball because he was too busy staring at you when you walked past the gym.” Dustin chimed in, as he walked to the front of class with his other friends.

You sighed as you propped down the door holder and walked over to your desk, where you leaned against the wood as the kids tried to explain how in love he was with you.

“Just please talk to him ms y/n.” Dustin pleaded.

“I’ll try, now go to eat lunch!” You shooed them out of the room, the other students, already left when the bell rang.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You sighed as you exited your classroom, a book you were reading in hand, you slowly made your way to the teachers break room to eat your lunch and enjoy your book.

As you walked down the hall, you started to slow down as you approached the gym doors. With a deep breath you pushed open the doors.

You were greeted to the sounds of students' shoes squeaking against the flooring. Steve stood off to the side with his arms crossed over his chest, as he would look between the students, who were playing with the basketball.

You quietly walked over to him.

“Jake, watch out.” Steve told a student, moving over to him to fix his form. “Like this?” He asked, acting out the previous motion. “Mmhm.” Steve nodded and turned to walk back to his spot but stopped for a second when he saw you standing there with a book held up to your chest.

“Hey y/l/n, i didn’t expect to see you here, didn’t you have a class to teach?” He tilted his head to the side a bit. You smiled at him and shook your head.

“I dismissed them for lunch.” Steve’s eyes widened a bit, he quickly looked down at his watch and back up at his students.

“Alright guys, after this game go to lunch!” The kids nodded at him, too occupied by their game.

“After they're done, do you uh, wanna go get something in the teacher’s lounge?” You nodded at his words, feeling warm and red from his gaze.

“Ooh, go coach!” A student cheered as they walked past to the lunchroom. “Please ignore those shit heads.” You both chuckled. “Will do.”

“Oh, careful, watch out steve!” You warned him, noticing the basketball that was tossed near you both.

“Watch out?” He said confused, before you could explain he got smacked on the side of the head with said ball. “Ooh! Are you alright?” You asked Steve, looking to see how badly he got smacked.

“I’m alright, I've taken worse.” He reassured you with a slight smile, he grabbed the ball that had landed beside him and tossed it to a student who walked over to the ball rack.

“Next time! Watch where you throw it, you could’ve hit ms. y/l/n, alright?” He told the students as they walked past you two.

“Sorry for almost hitting you ms y/l/n.” A student told you, placing their hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, we’ll try to avoid hitting you!”

“So sorry ms y/n!”

Steve had a look of betrayal on his face, you smiled at the look. “I’m the one you hit with the ball!” He jokingly scoffed.

“Yeah, but ms y/n is super sweet and nice, she feeds us in first period. and you don’t.” You chuckled and gently patted the students hand. “Well, thank you for that. Now go get some lunch or else my classroom might get raided by you guys still being hungry.” The students laughed and quickly walked out of the gym and started to run to the cafeteria.

“Lunch?” You told Steve who nodded, you both made your way to the teachers lounge.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You walked over to the fridge in the teacher’s lounge and grabbed your small lunch bag and walked over to the table Steve sat at and started to unpack your lunch.

“And what does the lovely y/n have today?” He asked with a smile as he opened up the ziplock bag.

“I brought sandwich wraps and a salad...What about you?” You asked Steve as you placed down your utensils to the side of you.

“I made a PB & J.” he sighed as he placed his sandwich on top of the bag.

“Do you want some?” You offered him a wrap and some of your salad. “It’s alright,” He smiled and watched as you poured your dressing on your salad, you then shut the lid back and started to shake it.

“You need some help with that?” He asked, laughing a bit at how aggressive you shook the tupperware.

You sheepishly nodded your head at him and handed him the salad.

“Thank you!” He shook his head at you.

“It’s not a problem.”

After Steve placed the tupperware next to you, he took a bite of his sandwich before turning to you.

“Your food looks way better than my lame PB & J.” Steve chuckles as he motioned to his limp sandwich,

“Your PB & J does look very delicious though.” You gently spoke as you took off the tupperware lid.

“Thanks, uh I heard you're helping the kids put on the musical this year?” You smiled and quickly took a bite of your salad.

“Yep, they originally wanted to do Romeo and Juliet but Higgins decided to be a pain in the ass to us.” Steve groaned at the name. “He’s always an ass. Yesterday he lectured me about being late, but why are we giving kids gym first thing in the morning?!" Steve waved his hands around, making you giggle a bit.

“Or how bout this, one day I had bought a big box of poptarts for the kids to have throughout the day in my class right,” Steve nodded at your story.

“Right, and the next day he came into my room right before the kids came in and he "confiscated" the box of poptarts and a couple days later, I went to the front office to get something and he had eaten every single package in that box!” Steve's eyes widened before he bursted out laughing.

“No way, he didn't!” He said in between chuckles.

“Honestly, he did.” You smiled and held your hands up.

“You know, the kids tell me you're a really great English teacher.” Steve smiled at you as he picked off his bread crust from his sandwich.

“Well, the kids tell me you're a pretty cool gym teacher.” You smiled back and leaned a bit more on the table.

His cheeks were tinted pink, he hid his boyish smile by shoving the bread crust into his mouth.

“No they don’t, or at least they don’t show it.” He said, looking down at the table, having trouble making eye contact with you.

“I think mike wheeler might even have some sort of resentment against me.” His words make you chuckle, mike was always kind to you, yes he did sometimes give you an attitude but you couldn’t care less.

“Well, Dustin absolutely admires you.” You both smiled at the thought of your favorite student, he was basically your student child.

“Same goes for mayfield, she likes reading the books you have them go over for your class, caught her once during gym under the bleachers.” You smile at the thought of her getting caught reading.

“Are you going to the dance they’re holding for the kids this Valentine's Day?” Steve asked, now leaning more so onto the table. “Yeah, a little sad that most of those kids are gonna have dates and here I am, no date for valentine’s..” You scrunched up your nose before sighing into your food.

- - - - - - February 14th - - - - - -

“Alright we’ll end it easy, who wants to tell me the name of Juliet's suitor?” You asked out loud to your class.

A handful of kids' hands went up instantly, your eyes wandered over the kids, you smiled as you picked a student out.

“Jane?”

She smiled at you widely before answering confidently. “Count Paris!” You smiled and nodded at her.

“Atta girl!” You walked back over to your desk and leaned against the front of it and looked over to the clock and noticed it was only a couple minutes before the kids were free to leave for lunch.

As you opened your mouth to speak you were interrupted by a knock on your room door.

You tilted your head at Robin, who sat in the back of the classroom. She shrugs at you. “Ms Mayfield, would you be kind enough to get the door please.” She smiles at you before getting up and answering the door.

She opens the door wider, you smiled as a student council member came walking in with wings attached to their back, they wheeled in a small wagon. “Here comes cupid to spread love!” the girl said tiredly.

“Alright cupid.” You smiled and watched as she handed candies to the kids who had their friends, boyfriends, girlfriends and even secret admirers send them.

“Two chocolates for mayfield, two hearts for henderson and oh,” She stopped as she read down her list, she looked up at you before walking to the door max had now propped open.

She whistles down the hall, you tilted your head confused, who was she calling over?

Your question was quickly answered as the basketball team came in with mini bouquets, Lucas walking in with a big rose bouquet.

“And twelve mini rose bouquets, and 50 red roses for ms y/l/n.” Your eyes widened as the boys walked over and handed you the smaller bouquets while Lucas placed the massive one on your desk.

“Thank you lucas.” He nodded and walked out of the classroom, closing the door as he went past.

The classroom was filled with oohs and awes from the kids.

“Who are they from Ms y/n?” You shrugged and searched the bouquets for a note or card.

You finally found the small card in the larger bouquet. You pulled it out and read over it.

“Love Grows ~ Your Admirer ;)” You looked back up at the class and noticed how they all were leaning onto their desks, waiting for you to read it to them.

“Seems like I’ve got an admirer.” The kids all squealed, they all leaned over to one another's desks and started to talk about who they thought it could be.

“It’s gotta be mr harrington!” “Oh totally.”

You smiled as the bell rang. “Alright, you all are free to go to lunch, I hope to see some of you tonight at the dance, I'm looking at you dustin!” You teased as the kids gathered their stuff and walked out of the classroom.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You sighed as you stood by the punch bowl, making sure no student tried to spike it.

“You look nice ms y/n!” Jane complimented you as herself, Mike, Max and Dustin approached the snack table. “So do you Jane.” You smiled and poured the kids cups of juice.

“Are you trying to impress Mr Harrington dressed like that tonight?” Max asked with a smirk on her face.

“No, it’s just a simple dress.” You defend yourself. “Oh yeah?” Mike raised an eyebrow at you.

“Mmhm.” you grabbed a cup and poured the juice for yourself. “Because Your dress happens to be the same color as Steve's tie.” Your eyes widened, you were now caught red handed.

“Same exact shade too!” Max laughed as the kids looked back and forth at you and Steve's clothing.

“Just tell him!” You shook your head at max, taking a sip from your cup.

“We’ll go do it if you don’t.” Max smirked at you.

“Shouldn’t you all be dancing out there?” You changed the subject as you lightly pushed the group towards the dance floor where they all dispersed and walked away.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You couldn’t help yourself, you glanced over towards Steve's direction. He was put in charge of making sure the kids weren’t gonna start fights. You quickly turned your head back as he looked over in your direction.

“Just go ask her already!” Robin groaned as she watched you and Steve stare at each other when the other wasn’t looking or paying attention.

“I can’t robin, we’ve been over this, i'm the dumb gym teacher while she’s the elegant english teacher, I’ve only ever been able to have one lunch break with her where I don’t act like a complete idiot in front of her.”

“You act like an idiot in front of who?” Nancy asked the pair as she stood behind them. “Our little quiet english teacher, y/n.” Robin smiled as the trio watched you sway along to the song playing.

“Do you like her steve?” Nancy smiled as she watched you talk with the kids.

“Like her? He’s practically in love with her!” Steve shushes Robin as he watches the kids make their way over to him.

“Ms Y/n is lonely, you should ask her if she would like some company.” Dustin told steve as they all pushed him towards the snack table.

“Watch it man, it's a new suit.” Steve muttered as he fixed himself before walking over to you, behind the table.

“What’s in that exactly?” You smiled and turned to face steve. “It’s a secret, it might be spiked, might be pure juice, who knows?” You shrug at him.

“How has it been over here?” He asks, now standing next to you at the table.

“You know, entertaining at times.” You both let out chuckles before watching as the kids all slowly got up and danced as a song came on.

“Hey y/n, do you wanna uh,” Steve scratches the back of his head.

“Would you like to dance?” Steve looked at you surprised. “Um, yeah, sure!” He smiled as you both walked to the dance floor.

The kids watched with big smiles as Steve wrapped his arms around your waist, you holding onto his upper arm.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, I haven't danced with someone since prom night.” Steve whispered to you and you both started to sway along to the music.

“Better than me, I didn't even dance with someone at prom.” Your words caught Steve's attention.

“What, had too many guys asking for a dance, you couldn’t choose?” He smiles at you.

“I wish that would’ve been the case, but someone made up a dumb rumor that I didn’t know how to dance and that if you danced with me you’d end up going to the hospital with a broken foot.” Steve scoffed.

“Well, I’d gladly get a broken foot for dancing with you.” You smiled, feeling your face heat up at his words.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

Steve smiled as you gently laid your head on his chest as you both swayed along to the song.

He looked over your shoulder and was greeted to the sight of the kids, acting like they were reeling in a fishing rod. He shook his head at them, chuckling a bit.

He nodded and raised his hand at them.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

You smiled and rolled your eyes as you spotted robin on the side of the dance floor, acting like she was kissing someone.

“Hey y/n.”

“Steve?” You both said at the same time, causing you both to look up at each other.

“You can go first.” He took a deep breath. “Would you like to go out to dinner with me?” He furrowed his brows, nervous.

You let out a light chuckle, making Steve tense up.

“How does next friday work?” You smiled at him. “It uh, it works perfectly actually!” He chuckles, his smile now wider than before.

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